Gov Darius Owens
17 July, 6 yal, 15:29
The wilderness, somewhere northwest of Concordia
Darius crested the short rise, peering at the creek twenty feet below that paralleled their path. The cool water burbled as it rushed by, taunting Darius with its song. His cracked lips felt like sandpaper as he ran his tongue over them. The forest had thickened dramatically over the past day, but the shadows provided little respite from Bravo’s roasting of the earth.
“Drink, please,” he wheezed hoarsely.
“Patience. We’re almost there,” the pock-faced man huffed, struggling for breath.
“You have no idea where you’re going,” Darius shot back.
“I’ll know it when I see it.”
“Maybe if you’d tell me what you’re looking for, I could help.”
Silence answered him, broken only by the footfalls of the men behind him. Two and a half days of constant hiking through the wilderness west of Concordia had left Darius’s feet painfully swollen and blistered. His captors had let him take his boots off overnight, which was a welcome relief until he discovered that the swelling prevented him from putting them back on in the morning. This seemed to offend his companions, who secured the boots to his wrist bindings by their laces. Now his bruised and battered arms were forced to carry that weight in a rather awkward position. With no ability to adjust them, there was no relief from the strain.
He was directed to skirt along the edge of the precipice that towered over the stream. Farther ahead he could see sharply descending rapids. The overlook was much shorter at that point, just where the cascading water disappeared around a giant mossy rock outcropping on the far side. The pock-faced man took the lead, as he had done a few times previously, bounding hurriedly to the bend in the stream while his companions drove Darius forward. He scurried to the creek’s bank at the bend, splashed some water on his face, and took in his surroundings. He then scrambled the short distance to the top of the cut, and waited for Darius with a smug grin.
“And here we are,” he beamed.
Darius looked around. Nothing of particular note was present. Hills flanked the valley, their heights scattered with pines and the occasional fir. The valley was a denser mixture of pines and alders, with countless boulders scattered like grains of rice spilled by a giant. Berry bushes—a half dozen inedible varieties—burst from every crevice, and the rocks along the banks teemed with lichen.
“Alright,” Darius said. “Here we are. What now?”
“We wait.”
Darius settled in at the base of a tree. He rubbed his aching feet, taking care not to touch any of the angry, swollen blisters. A few had caked over with a mixture of pus and dirt, which stung like nothing he had ever felt. He sucked in a deep breath, then pushed it out with a loud groan as the coarse rope fibers scratched one of the burst blisters.
“Would you mind not picking at those things?” his captor asked, disgust dripping in his voice. “That’s a little disgusting.”
“Sorry to inconvenience you,” Darius shot back sarcastically.
The pock-faced man shrugged. “It’s as much your fault as my boss’s. I could think of a dozen other ways to take care of you that would have been easier on both of us.”
The words struck Darius with an odd finality. Being kidnapped was one thing. Being kept in the dark with the promise of being unharmed as long as he cooperated was tolerable, though only barely. But to ‘be taken care of,’ under the circumstances, meant being silenced.
“Think I wanted to be marched all this way to have you kill me?” He choked on the words, trying to conceal the panic that was clawing at him from within. His instincts told him to flee, but that was not a possibility.
A faint smile crossed the man’s lips for a moment. “No. Not at all. I tried to tell him that, but he wouldn’t listen. He was pretty insistent on how we were to deal with you.”
“And just how is that?”
“To make sure that you’re never found. Or at least not in any identifiable way,” he smirked.
The renegade glanced up and nodded at one of his cohorts, who disappeared into the woods at a jog. His other companion set his pack down, retrieving the familiar black and yellow ropes that they used to secure Darius to the trees at night. Darius tried to scramble to his feet, but found himself staring at the business end of a nine millimeter pistol.
“Ah, ah,” the man scolded. “I can still make this unpleasant for you if you piss me off.”
“More unpleasant than death?” Darius spat back.
His captor’s head bobbed in a slow, chilling nod. “Trust me, Governor, you don’t want to try me. Other men have. They thought they could stand up to me. And, well… they found out just how quickly I could turn them into little girls.” His cold eyes locked on to Darius, piercing his soul with an icy lance. “Save yourself the trouble, Governor.”
Darius hesitated, but backed down. He was bound tightly to the tree within a couple of minutes. In the distance he heard an off-key caterwauling that sounded vaguely like native birdcalls, though not accurately reproduced.
“So if you’re going to make sure I’m never found then I’m guessing you’re not going to blow my brains out. So what’s with the ropes?”
“A head start,” the man replied, scratching at his scarred cheek.
Darius cocked his head in confusion. “A what?”
“I’ve heard this place has quite the vicious predator. I’m not going to stick around to admire it, of course.”
Darius kicked his legs and lunged, earning nothing but sharp pains from the weeping blisters on his feet.
“You sick bastard,” he spat. “You’d leave me to die like that?”
The man shrugged indifferently. “Like I said, I tried to save you from all this. I just wanted you to accidentally drown in the river. You can thank my boss for this little stunt.”
“Right, because this is so much better.”
“You’d be dead already. Wouldn’t that be better than the waiting? The horrible stench of the bear’s breath before it sinks its claws into your flesh and tears you limb from limb?”
Darius snarled as he threw his weight against his bonds. “You know, I’m really starting to dislike you. Who’s your boss? I’d like to file a complaint.”
The man laughed. “I like your spirit. It’s almost too bad that Young offered so much to have you offed. But then again, we’d probably have a serious difference of opinions at some point. It’s always that way with guys like you. Too righteous for their own good. So inflexible.”
Young. God damn it.
The mock bird calls grew closer, followed by the distant bellow of a reaper bear. His captors had attracted the attention of the living weapon that would be his end. Time seemed so short, and he had far more questions than answer. Not that he’d be able to tell anyone what he had learned. He still wanted to know, even if only for his own peace.
“So the man hires you to take me out and steal the servers, huh?” he growled bitterly.
The man took a deliberate swig from his canteen. “We were supposed to reclaim my boss’s property when no one was looking. To be honest, we didn’t know you were back there. It’s good for us that you were, since you knew about the machines. If you hadn’t been there when we took them, you would have known, and then where would we be?”
“Probably in my office, with me grilling you.”
“Exactly. I’m sorry you got involved, but it’s nothing personal. I’ve got a job to do, and thanks to you stumbling on those servers, that now includes killing you.”
“Don’t you think he’s going to extremes just to steal a few computers?” Darius asked.
The evil smile returned to the man’s cracked lips. “See, now that’s where you’re wrong. The items we’re talking about here belong to my employer. He’s quite relieved to get them back from storage.”
“Bullshit. Those computers were part of Benedict’s price for his technology. They became Projec
t property when they were delivered and installed.”
“I’m sorry, what computers are you talking about?” the man taunted. “Oh yes, the ones that no one’s ever heard about.”
“Doctor Benedict…”
“Is dead, Governor,” he interrupted. “So is Doctor Fairweather. And so are you.” His captor turned away and took a couple steps, then faced him again. “If it’s any consolation, Mr. Young is very relieved that his property has been returned to him.”
“They’re not his!” Darius bellowed.
“There isn’t a single soul that can dispute his claim. If it ever comes to light, that is.”
Damn it, he cursed mentally. If I had just told Tom. Or Roger.
“And just what is he going to do with his so-called property?”
“Oh, that’s not my business. He’s the one with the eye on the bigger picture. My job is just about done. It’s his turn now.”
Darius narrowed his eyes. “So Young tells you to jump and you jump. No matter how much damage it does to your new home. Why does your boss want those computers so much when all they can do is help the colony?”
The laughed and waved dismissively. “I don’t really care. You see, Young is a wealthy man. And this kind of job? Let’s just say it comes with a very impressive pension.”
“Young left all he had back on Earth. Everyone has to work for their keep around here, and that includes every one of you.”
“Oh, he’ll be wealthy again, now that his property has been returned.”
Darius bit his lip. Young’s plan was clear. Technological development was something that he could easily hold over the heads of Concordia’s population. Though they had gone years without it, the allure of bringing back at least some of the familiar comforts of Earth might prove too strong for some people to resist, even if it was limited in availability. While Darius planned to turn the servers into public archives to kick-start technological advancement, Young was far more cunning with business. Darius now saw that, with control over the release of technology, Young could potentially gain sway over the entire colony without ever firing a shot. It represented the death of everything he had ever done in overseeing the colony, from the rationing of the early years to the construction of Benedict Square. The backbreaking work that his fellow Concordians had put in over the course of six years to build their peaceful home might all be for nothing, snatched in a power grab by a billionaire who shouldn’t even be alive. It was sickening; Darius’s stomach churned and he felt his blood boil.
The bear howled again, just as the man sent to lure it returned. He doubled over against a nearby tree, panting hard. The other cohort worked quickly to pack all the gear. Their leader glanced into the woods behind Darius and smirked.
“Well, it looks like we’re done here. You’ve been a good sport about all of this. Sorry it didn’t work out for you, Governor. No hard feelings, right?”
“The Lord will see you get what’s coming to you,” Darius seethed.
“Someday, I have no doubt. But right now I’ve got to be going home. I’ll have a drink in your honor when I get there. Whiskey, neat. Made by that kid in town, what’s his name?” Darius clenched his teeth, refusing to play the man’s game anymore. He nodded once. “Well, I guess we’re done here.”
The three men charged downstream along the bank as quickly as they could move. They were out of sight before the reaper bear called out again. It was close by, probably within a couple hundred feet. Darius jerked in his bonds in every direction he could think of, trying to find any give in the rope, any slack that he might be able to work with.
He found that his hands could move a little bit, and that if he exhaled and held his breath, he could reach the ground. The second time he did so, he fumbled along the ground with his fingers to find anything of use. The tips brushed up against something cold and hard. Darius had to crane his neck, but was able to determine that it was a small rock with one jagged edge. He relaxed slightly, cycled two deep breaths, and tried again. His fingers again brushed over the stone, but he couldn’t get a grip on it.
The bear let out a long, low noise that was equal parts howl and growl. Darius knew he had little time left. He quickly repeated his breath sequence and made one more try for the rock, but his middle finger hit it before it passed over, and the rock rolled out of reach. Darius screamed out in frustration and anguish. The beast let out its roar again. He could hear the thunderous sounds of its footfalls as it loped toward him. Darius glanced over his shoulder, and the bear was at his tree in almost an instant.
It circled around the tree slowly, bounding twice in an aggressive manner and scattering dirt into a fine cloud with one sideways swipe of its massive paw across the earth. When it growled again, Darius could smell the stench of death in its breath. Its lips curled to reveal cruel, jagged teeth, longer than anything he had seen on Earth. Darius tried to steel himself for his imminent death, but the terror that gripped him only allowed him to do one thing: void his bladder.
The reaper bear squared off to face him less than ten feet away. It crouched on its hind legs, lowering its front end in preparation for the leap that would seal the fate of its prey. As it jumped, Darius saw the left claw swipe toward his head. Instinctively, he ducked the other way and closed his eyes. He felt searing pain in his right arm and chest, and he fell to the ground.
Again, running on pure instinct, he screamed in pain and backpedaled with his feet. He got about five feet before his back ran into a tree and his eyes shot open. The bear was preparing to attack again. Next to it rested the black and yellow rope that had bound him to the tree, shredded into many pieces by the bear’s claw. A trail of blood ran from where the beast stood to where Darius now cowered. A voice inside him shouted out, drowning out the world around him.
Get up and run!
Darius didn’t have time to react fully before the terrible predator charged again. He tried to roll out of the way of its claws, but the animal grazed him across the hip. Every part of his body burned and ached, from the fresh, bloody wounds of the bear to the days-old bruises from the beating. They didn’t mean a thing anymore. Darius was on his feet and running. He plunged headlong into the creek. The bear was only a couple of seconds behind him. Panicked, Darius darted to the other bank, but it was too steep and rocky to climb, so he ran further downstream.
The animal’s fetid breath rolled off his skin in hot, moist waves. He couldn’t chance looking back to see how far away it was. He could only keep running. That was no small chore, as the churning rapids threatened to sweep him off his feet with each stride. The creek widened and leveled out ahead, and the bank dropped to where he could probably climb out. Darius didn’t give it a second thought. He plunged toward the dry shore. But as the creek widened out, it also got significantly deeper. Darius suddenly found himself without footing, and the still-rapid current dragged him downstream even faster.
Darius thrashed around, clawing for ground with both his hands and feet. His head went under at an inopportune time, and he got a lungful of water. He coughed and retched, which only made it worse, as he immediately sucked in more water as soon as he expelled it. The world began to fade, but Darius did not relent in his desperate act of self-preservation.
As he was about to get swept downstream into another set of rapids, his hands caught the trunk of a felled tree at the river’s edge. He heaved with all his might, dragging himself on top, where he proceeded to spend the next five minutes coughing and throwing up. When he could breathe again, he remembered the reaper bear. He scrambled to shore and looked around for the beast. And he found it. On the opposite side of the channel, pacing back and forth. It snarled and growled at him, but made no further effort to pursue.
What in the hell?
That was as much thought as he gave the situation before counting his blessings and disappearing into the woods in the opposite direction.
Gabrielle Serrano
18 July, 6 yal, midday
Approximately 75 mile
s southeast of wreck site
Gabi kept her eyes locked straight ahead. The edge of her vision to the left was blocked out by a massive rock spire that shrouded them in its shadow. It was almost inconceivably tall, rising at least five hundred feet in less than the same span. The path ahead of them, along its base, was strewn with boulders more than twice her height. Little vegetation covered the ground; the tall fir trees had thinned out over the past few days, replaced by much shorter, gnarled species that otherwise looked fairly similar. The underbrush had also cleared out, and was now mostly composed of berries that Diego had inadvertently discovered to be edible. Unfortunately, the sparse vegetation could not mask the deep ravine that scarred the terrain to their right.
It was probably thirty feet deep, she guessed. While it wasn’t a sheer drop off, the slope was hopelessly steep. If she were to tumble over the edge, the fall might not kill her. However, being stuck at the bottom with no way out was a death sentence, particularly if she fell into the ice cold creek at the bottom.
Yet ahead of them lay the singular focus of her attention; a small notch between two encroaching peaks on either side, nearly completely devoid of trees. No chasm running down the center, as it hooked to the right shortly before the pass, then ran up the side of the opposing ridge in a steep v-cut. A few large boulders rested at the notch, but nothing that looked like a major obstruction from where she stood. And all that it would take for them to get there was one last push. But that push would be over a gradually steepening incline littered with talus cast from the spire above. Time and floods had taken their toll on the ravine’s channel, and at points it narrowed the path to only a few feet.
Her stomach growled, reminding her that they were hours removed from their last meal. She took a quick swig from her canteen and forced Diego to do the same, despite his protests that he wasn’t thirsty.
“We won’t be able to stop until we get to the top,” she grumbled.
He whined once more but took two small sips anyway. The Brennan siblings followed suit without a word, then double checked that their gear was secured. They carried only the bare necessities on their backs now; even the few folding shelter panels weighed too much to port over the mountains, and had been abandoned the previous morning when camp was broken. Only food, water, weapons, flint, a section of rope, and a few thin sleeping furs were left. While they cut down on the chill at night, they did not eliminate it. Yet another misery that Gabi tried to forget.
Project Columbus: Omnibus Page 121
