by Jake Bible
Jay sprinted to the salvage mech and clambered up the leg.
***
Tears fell down June’s cheeks and dripped from her chin into her stew, but she didn’t notice as she took bite after bite.
The Boss laughed heartily. “Awww, I was looking forward to Mech Pilot stew. Oh, well, she made her choice. Let’s eat!”
The villagers cheered subserviently, none of them truly overjoyed by the Boss’s game, but all glad they could finally feed their bellies after a long night’s confinement and a hard day’s work.
Olivia began to reach out for June, but the Boss grabbed her arm and pulled her away, leaving June alone with her torturous meal.
***
Jay punched a massive fist into the Foggy Bottom pavement, crushing a dozen UDC troops at once.
“Climb aboard, kid!” he yelled to the Rookie, who was already slinging his carbine and dashing to the salvage mech.
The Rookie gripped the massive fist and hung on tight as Jay brought it up to cockpit level.
“Let’s get the fuck out-AAAAAHHH!” the Rookie yelped as a bullet tore through his chest. He collapsed halfway into the cockpit, forcing Jay to grab a hold and pull him the rest of the way in.
“Kid! Are you okay?” Jay cried.
“Yeah, just go!”
***
Rachel and Harlow’s mechs stood before the mech base’s hangar doors, the transport behind them with Bisby’s mech taking up the rear.
“Open them up, Jethro,” Capreze ordered, seated at the transport controls.
“Yes, sir,” Jethro responded, already making the key strokes necessary to override the base’s storm protocols. Even though the worst of the waste storm had passed, the wind that whipped into the hangar buffeted and shook the mechs and transport.
“Stay alert and stay tight,” Capreze called over the com. “Pilots? Let’s move out.”
The mechs and transport stepped and rolled from the base, into the wasteland.
Chapter Six
Part One- Storms & Stompers
“Sensor readings are getting clearer, Bishop Wyble.”
“Thank you, Deacon Montoya. And what can those sensor readings tell us?” Bishop Wyble asked, seated directly behind Deacon Montoya as the man drove the Rancher transport towards the mech base.
“Very little, your Eminence,” Deacon Montoya responded. “The storm interference is still quite a bit. We can see that the base has full power and does not appear to have suffered any damage as a result of the waste storm.”
“Well, that is fortunate. The Archbishop would not be pleased to have the new seat of his diocese ruined,” said the Bishop.
***
“Reverend Stemple? Please report,” Bishop Wyble called over the Rancher com.
“Yes, Your Eminence. The convoy is in perfect order. All transports are ready for the conversion of the mech base,” Reverend Stemple replied.
“And our new friends? How are they faring?”
Reverend Stemple glanced at the UDC trooper driving the transport. “Cooperating nicely, Your Grace. All transports report the same.”
“Excellent. God will make you a True Disciple upon your Change. Carry on His work, Reverend. God bless.”
“Thank you, Bishop Wyble. I am at His and Your service.”
The Reverend glanced again at the UDC driver and shivered.
***
The dead mech lumbered across the wasteland, past mesas and bluffs, over hillsides. This dead mech did not think, did not reason, it truly was an extension of its zombie pilot.
Cresting a hill, the deader spotted the Rancher convoy and its starving, undead pilot thrashed about the cockpit, bloodlust and hunger driving it into a frenzy.
The dead mech ran towards the transports, towards fresh meat.
From long dead training, it raised its 50mms, but to no effect, the ammunition having run out years ago.
The guns clicked empty as the dead mech bore down on the rear transport.
***
“Masters?” Jay called over the com. “The kid’s in bad shape.”
“I’m…fine,” the Rookie said between ashen lips, as he held a compression bandage to his chest. “Keep moving…”
“No, you aren’t fucking fine!” Jay shouted. “We need to stop so I can look at that wound!”
“See that bluff over there? Due east? Half mile out?” Masters asked.
“Yeah, I see it,” Jay responded.
“We can take up a defensive position there so you can check out the Razor,” Masters said.
“Don’t… call… me… Razor… asshole,” the Rookie growled, coughing.
“Good, you still have some fight,” Masters laughed.
***
“We have an incoming Demon, Reverend Stemple,” Reverend Hilldebrand called over the com. “Less than 100 yards behind us and closing fast.”
Reverend Stemple turned to the UDC driver. “Show me,” he ordered.
Stone faced and without response, the driver tapped at his console, bringing up the rear most transports vid feed. The feed showed a dead mech bearing down on the rear transport, arms raised, ready to attack.
“Transport Gamma Three? Do you have a lock on the Demon approaching?” Reverend Stemple called.
“Yes, Reverend.”
“Release your disciples and let us send the abomination back to Hell.”
“Yes, Reverend.”
***
“Reverend Hilldebrand? This is Transport Gamma Three. Bless you for alerting us to the Demon presence. We can handle it from here,” Deacon Williams reported over the com.
“Of course, Deacon. It is my honor and duty,” Reverend Hilldebrand responded.
“Anoint the Demon, Sister,” Deacon Williams ordered his driver, a young Rancher woman.
“Yes, Deacon. It is my honor and duty,” the driver responded, tapping at her console.
Deacon Williams watched on the vid as cannons fired gallons of blood and offal upon the pursuing dead mech.
“Demon anointed, sir.”
“Very good, Sister. Release the disciples. God bless each one.”
***
The main rear cargo hatch of Transport Gamma Three opened wide and dozens of zombies spilled out. Their feeding instincts kicked in immediately as the smell of the blood and offal that “anointed” the dead mech wafted over them.
Nearly six dozen zombies swarmed the dead mech, believing that there was more to it than just a coating of human fluids.
The dead mech stumbled from the onslaught of the zombies, but they were not heavy enough to fully bring the machine down. It began to fling deaders about the wasteland, attempting to defend itself while still pursuing the transports.
***
“Has the Demon been dispatched to Hell?” Bishop Wyble asked.
“Deacon Williams here, Your Grace. The disciples have been released upon the abomination, but they do not seem to have strength enough to bring the Demon down,” answered Deacon Williams over the com.
“Hmmm,” Bishop Wyble mused. “I’d hate to lose more disciples. Deacon Williams?”
“Yes, Your Eminence?”
“Do you have any more cargo of importance?”
“No, Your Grace. We’re only carrying disciples.”
“And crew? How many?”
“Um, myself, Sister Elizabeth and two disciple handlers, Your Grace.”
“Excellent! Then I declare martyrdom for you all! Glory is to be yours!”
***
Deacon Williams blanched. “Martyrdom, Your Grace?”
“Yes, Deacon Williams. Today I give you the greatest honor short of becoming a True Disciple! Do you not agree?” Bishop Wyble answered over the com.
“Of course I agree, Your Grace. You have truly bestowed a great honor upon us.”
“And your families, of course. They shall be well provided for.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Blessings be upon you and your crew, Deacon Williams.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” the Deacon severed the com connection. “Turn us about Sister. We shall send the Demon to Hell ourselves. And wipe those tears from your eyes!”
***
The dead mech flung the last of the zombies to the dirt, stomping and crushing as many as possible without breaking stride. Despite the attack of the zombies it had gained ground. The smell of the blood still coating its structure sent it into a frenzy and it doubled its pursuit.
One of the transports split form the convoy and turned directly at the deader. The dead mech was momentarily puzzled then the bloodlust overcame it and it charged straight at the transport.
The transport began to fire all of its weapons at the deader, but within seconds they collided.
***
Bishop Wyble watched the collision of the dead mech and transport on the vid screen. A massive explosion resulted sending a fireball thirty yards into the air. The Bishop clapped loudly.
“Spectacular! The Heavens surely saw that demonstration of faith!” he called out.
“Yes, Your grace. Those Rancher souls will have a special place in Heaven, thanks to your Eminence’s charity of Martyrdom bestowed upon them,” Deacon Montoya said.
“Careful, Deacon. Flattery will get you everywhere!” the Bishop chuckled. “Now, what progress have we made with the sensor readings of the heathen mech base?”
“Unfortunately, nothing more yet, Your Grace.”
***
“Just hold on, kid, we’re almost to the bluff,” Jay said. “Masters will cover our asses while I patch you up.”
“I’m… I’m fine,” the Rookie grunted. “I’ve been through worse.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’ve been through worse. You keep saying that, but one day worse is going to turn into dead and I’m going to do my best to make sure today isn’t that day.”
The Rookie grimaced from the pain. “Okay, Jay. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it, kid. You were the one that saved mine and Masters’ asses back in Foggy Bottom, so it’s the least I can do.”
***
“ETA, Deacon Montoya?” Bishop Wyble asked.
“If the storm maintains the same speed as now? Approximately an hour or two,” the Deacon responded.
“Splendid, Deacon, that is just splendid.” The Bishop angled his seat back and covered his face with a cloth. “Wake me when we are in sight of the base, if you will, Deacon. Or unless we get any new sensor readings.”
“Yes, Your Grace. It would be my pleasure.”
“What would?”
“Your Grace?”
“What would be your pleasure, Deacon?”
“To wake you, Your Grace.”
“Well, of course it would be! All for honor and duty, Deacon Montoya!”
***
“Fucking hold still!” Jay yelled as he probed the Rookie’s bullet wound. “I can’t see shit with all this blood and your fucking wiggling!”
“I’m… trying… OW, FUCK! To… be… still…” the Rookie groaned.
Jay splashed a generous amount of antiseptic into the wound and blotted it with gauze. “Shit! I’m gonna need to cut into there.”
“Do you… have… a scalpel?” the Rookie asked.
“No,” Jay said. “But I have a diamond point laser blade. Sorry about this, kid.”
Jay fired up the handheld tool, its tip glowing red. He pressed a button and the laser began to slice.
***
“Hey guys?” Masters called over the com.
“Not now, Masters!” Jay barked.
“Yeah, I understand, just listen.” Masters double-checked his sensor readings. “We have two more problems. First, it looks like we have a waste storm heading right for us. We’ve got maybe two hours. Second, we are going to have company in less than an hour. We’ve been tracked. UDC transports are on their way right now if these readings are right.”
Masters listened to the Rookie’s groans and Jay’s curses over the com.
“Okay. Right. You’re busy. I can handle this,” Masters said to no one in particular.
***
“Leave me,” the Rookie croaked. “Get your asses back to base. They need to know about Foggy Bottom.”
“Nice try, but I ain’t going anywhere. And, since we’re about to have a fight on our hands, I can guarantee Masters isn’t going, either. He’d never miss a fight,” Jay responded.
Gripping the pair of pliers plunged deep into the Rookie’s chest, Jay gave a hard tug and was rewarded with a wet pop. He held the pliers up to the Rookie’s face. “Plus, I just found the bullet, so we’re good…as soon as I cauterize the wound.” The Rookie moaned.
***
“Any ETA on when we can get the fuck out of here?” Masters yelled over the com. “Because I’m talking minutes before the UDC are… Never mind. They just crested the hill.”
Masters readied his weapons systems, double checked his energy reserves and prepped for the fight.
“You know what?” Masters continued. “You guys don’t worry about this. I can handle a single transport in my sleep.” Three more transports crested the hill right on the heels of the first one. “Or four. Still no worries.”
Warnings blared and Masters watched as all four transports targeted missiles on his mech.
***
The Rookie, sweat dripping down his face, gritted his teeth as Jay cauterized the bullet wound.
“At least you stopped screaming like a baby girl,” Jay said as he finished.
“Fuck…you…Rind,” the Rookie croaked.
“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you, you little cage fighting freak!”
Despite his pain the Rookie laughed, wishing immediately he hadn’t, as his chest shook, creating fresh waves of pain.
“Ow…”
“You act like you ain’t ever been shot before,” Jay said cleaning up the bloody mess that was the salvage mech’s cockpit.
“I haven’t.”
“Really? I’ve been shot seven times. Deserved every bullet.”
***
Deacon Montoya listened to his com intently. “Roger that. I’ll alert the Bishop immediately.”
Bishop Wyble removed the cloth from his face and sighed. “What is it, Deacon?”
“Two mechs escaped Foggy Bottom, Your Grace. However, UDC transports were dispatched and they have tracked and found the mechs. They are engaging as we speak, Your Eminence.”
“That is wonderful news, Montoya! Please keep me posted as to the outcome of the battle! I am sure God will shine down on our new UDC brethren and make them victorious against the heathen machines!” Bishop Wyble bellowed.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Montoya responded.
***
Masters switched on his external loudspeakers. “Attention approaching UDC transports. I will give you one chance to turn your little pussy asses around and go home. I don’t know if you are all dead, undead, living, but slightly spoiled or what-the-fuck-ever! But, I’m sure none of you want my mech fist shoved up your fuckholes!”
The transports responded by firing their missiles. Masters grinned from ear to ear then broke into a full run towards the transports.
“Really? Puny little missiles? Against a mech? What fucking field manual are you guys smoking?”
The missiles and mech sped towards each other.
***
“Here, sip this,” Jay said, handing the Rookie a flask. “It’ll take the edge off.”
The Rookie gladly took the offered flask and quickly downed the contents handing back the empty flask to Jay. “Thanks.”
Jay stared at the empty flask then back to the Rookie. “I said ‘sip’, asshole.”
“Oh, sorry,” the Rookie apologized. “That wasn’t the last was it?”
“It was in the cockpit. I’ll have to climb out and down to get more out of storage.”
“That would be great,” the Rookie said lazily as the warmth of the shine spread through his body, numbing the pain.
Without breaking stride, Masters sprang into the air, twisting his mech about, letting the missiles fly past him. He came down on his massive fists, palms flat and immediately piloted his mech into a backwards handspring, landing just yards from the first UDC transport.
“Howdy! I see you want to play!” Masters laughed reaching down and picking the first transport off the ground. “Lift with your legs! That’s how we stay healthy in the workplace!”
He swung the transport about and back the way he came, directly into the missiles that had changed course and were heading right for him.
***
The explosion sent pieces of transport and troops flying across the wasteland. The salvage mech shuddered, nearly knocking Jay loose as he descended to the storage compartment for more shine.
“Fucking show off!” Jay yelled into his com.
“Jealous much?!?” Masters yelled back.
Jay reached the compartment, lifted the hatch and gasped. “Holy fucking shit!”
“What?” the Rookie asked over the com. “You okay?”
“You won’t believe this! But, Legit actually made good on his promise! Every part I asked for is loaded in here!” Jay searched a bit more. “But the fuckers took the shine!”
“Bastards!” the Rookie yelled.
***
The giant fist slammed down and through the closest UDC transport, crushing everything inside. Masters lifted the transport and shook it off, sending it flying 300 yards before it smashed to the ground, sending fiery shrapnel across the wasteland.
“Wooo-fucking-hoooo!” Masters crowed. “I am loving the smashy-smashy! I haven’t fucked shit up with my mech in a while! Feels fucking good!”
Cannon fire brought Masters’ attention back to the remaining transports. He dodged to the left, letting the artillery shells wiz past him.
“Really? That’s all you got! Leave it to UDC fuckheads to bring transports to a mech fight!”
***
Jay climbed back into the cockpit. “Hey, you’re missing the show,” he said, carefully helping the Rookie sit upright so he could see the action. “You should watch this, you’ll learn a thing or two about how to pilot a mech.”
The Rookie stared in amazement at the deftness with which Masters maneuvered his mech.
