by Jake Bible
“Too functional? No,” One Arm said about the leg that had been blasted and he had to repair. “But functional enough.”
The leg was welded onto his exoskeleton with a mismatched patchwork of struts. It stuck straight out from his body and Bisby could see by the swath the mech cut through the deaders that he was dragging it more than walking on it.
“Whatever keeps you moving,” Bisby said as he hopped into One Arm’s hand for the quick ride up to the cockpit. “That’s all that fucking matters.”
“In which direction shall we go, Pilot?” One Arm asked.
“Straight ahead,” Bisby said. “There’s a Railer train we may be able to catch.” The cockpit hatch opened and Bisby stared. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Hey,” Mathew said, his feet up on the control console. “You’re riding bitch.”
Fifty-Seven
“We are the same now, Stone,” Reginald said. “Equals. Of a sort.”
“Oh, Reg,” Stone said, shaking his head. “Is that what you think? We’re equals? Why would you even think that?”
Reginald thumped his chest. “Because we are both improved. The new men of the world.”
Stone walked casually closer to Reginald then stopped when he was about five yards away. “We aren’t men, Reginald. We aren’t anything. We’re biochrome amalgamations of what Ms. Isely thinks we should be.”
“But we still have our minds,” Reginald said as he tapped his temple. “We still have what makes us ‘us’.”
“Do we?” Stone asked. “Are you sure? How would you even know? That woman could have easily altered everything about us. You assume too much, Reg.”
Reginald frowned and stared at Stone for a long moment as the battle waged around them.
“Why do you have to do that, Stone?” he finally asked.
“Do what, Reg?” Stone asked.
“Cut me down to size,” Reginald replied. “You’ve always done that. When we were partners –partners- you made sure I was behind you, never next to you. You can’t stand it that I am finally on the same level as you and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Stone chuckled for a second then lashed out with blinding speed. BC shot from his hands and slashed Reginald across the face and chest. Reginald fell back, his body bleeding, shocked at the sudden attack.
He stood up and his wounds closed as if they hadn’t happened. “That wasn’t very mature of you, Stone.”
“Never claimed maturity, Reg,” Stone said. “Just ferocity.”
The two former partners locked eyes and stayed perfectly still, each waiting for the other to make the next move. Each trying to figure out what that move would be since, as far as they knew, neither of them could be killed.
***
“Those are your boys down there,” Charlie said as he watched the battle safely on a holo in the BTT’s cabin. “Care to wager on which one will win?”
“Neither,” Mr. Gein said. “It’s a lose lose situation.”
“I don’t buy that,” Charlie replied.
Mr. Gein stood up and refilled his drink. “Fine, there will be a winner.” Mr. Gein shrugged as he downed his gin and tonic and made another. “And it will be the one that always wins.” He went and sat back down, his face drawn and pale. “The one that always wins. I don’t know how, but he can’t lose. Even death can’t beat him.”
“Great,” Charlie said. “That’s just great.”
“Can anything beat him?” Melissa asked. “A Ghost, maybe?”
“Possibly,” Mr. Gein responded. “But I wouldn’t test it. You’d have to be touching him to manipulate the BC he’s made of. If you are that close then you’re already dead.”
“I’ve gotten out of worse,” Melissa said. “I’m pretty hard to kill also.”
“But not impossible,” Mr. Gein said. “Stone, and Reginald, were designed to be impossible to kill. A nuclear blast? Possibly. But even that I have no illusions about.”
“Sweet god,” Charlie said. “You people really fucked this world up.”
Mr. Gein shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I was just a bureaucrat following the easier path. I don’t fuck anything up. I just push the papers that order the world to be fucked up.”
***
“Come on, cuz,” Immy said as she helped Dog up and onto his cyce. “Can you ride?”
“Don’t have a choice,” Dog said. “Let’s finish this shit. New guy is busy with other new guy. Let them duke it out while we wipe the wasteland clean of these fucks.”
“I like that spirit, cuz,” Immy grinned as she hopped on her cyce and powered it up. “Cleaning up fucks is a great way to spend the day.”
“Enough of the talk,” the Mayor said over the com. “We have already lost a third of our people. And we’re losing more as you chat!”
“Sorry, daddy,” Immy said. “We’ll get them rallied.”
Dog and Immy roared away from the stalemate of Stone and Reginald. They opened up on anyone that wasn’t from Eden. They didn’t care if it was a shock trooper or if it was a tech running from a burning HAV. Everyone in their path was ripped to bits by their gunfire.
“Riders of Eden,” Dog said over the com. “We are losing ground. That ain’t cool, folks. I signed up to be the future leader of Eden because I saw strength in you all. You were able to pull off one pretty amazing farce for my benefit. Now let’s pull some truth on these fucks. Time to truly make the Three know what it’s like to tangle with the wasteland. Let’s show them nothing but defeat. That’s all they deserve.”
A chorus of voices responded and Dog could instantly feel the mood change. Where he had seen cyces avoiding conflict, ducking in and out to make random, safe attacks, he watched packs of cyces converge on shock troopers and lay into them until there was nothing but a bloody mess of biochrome and bodies.
Riders that had been wounded and knew they wouldn’t make it out alive rammed their cyces right into HAVs, ripping the massive transports apart in a suicidal explosion of bravery.
Shock troopers spun about, their rifles barking wildly, never able to get a solid target. They’d have one cyce in their sights, but be blindsided by another behind them, unable to turn in time to save themselves. Men and women screamed as they had metal ripped from their bodies. They cried out in agony as their shock suits were compromised and their jack ports yanked straight from the bone they were fused to.
Troopers fell, HAVs burned, and cyces roared.
***
“Enough,” Stone said. “Call your people off and leave. Tell the Three that they’ve lost. That the wasteland isn’t for them.” Stone spread his arms wide. “And why would they want it? Look at this hell! It isn’t suitable for the lowest scab junkie! You want to call this home?”
“No, I want to go home,” Reginald said. “Sit by a fire with a cup of tea. Maybe a biscuit or two. Just relax for a change.”
“You actually think the Three will allow that?” Stone scoffed. “If so then Isely really did mess with your head. They own you, Reg! You are their dog, their puppet, their bitch! You will never be done because men like that will never let you be done!” Stone smiled devilishly. “Ask yourself this, Reg: what happens to the Three when they do win? When no one is left to conquer? You think they won’t split and start fighting each other?”
Reginald didn’t answer.
“Haven’t thought about that, have you Reg? That’s why we will never be equals. You follow. I refuse to. Why? Because following gets you killed for someone else. I’ve already done that. Fool me once, and all that shite. Trust me, Reg, when the Three get bored they will be at each others’ throats in no time because that is their nature. What will you do then?”
“Words,” Reginald said. “That’s what you’ve always been, Stone. The man with the words. Words get you nowhere anymore, Stone. Only brute force will win. That is the nature of the world now.”
“Brute force?” Stone laughed. BC shot out from his hands and attached to the wreckage of two HAVs. Stone b
rought his hands together and the HAVs slammed into Reginald from either side of him. “You have the stones to lecture me on brute force?”
Stone shot out more tendrils from his body. Tentacles from his shoulders, his back, his legs, searched the field for as much BC as possible. He grabbed it, amazed at how his mind could distinguish equally between all of his new appendages, and added to the mass of BC that crushed down on Reginald.
“Brute force,” Stone chuckled. “I’ll give you brute force, you simpering suck-ass.”
A thick rod of BC shot from the pile that held Reginald and impaled Stone. He stumbled for a minute and looked down at the BC that was sticking from his abdomen. BC that he couldn’t seem to control. The BC broke off and fell to the ground then pooled and reshaped in a blink.
Reginald stood nose to nose with Stone.
“You think too much, Stone,” Reginald grinned. “You forget to shut up and just act.” Reginald grabbed Stone by the neck and ran him backwards until they slammed into the overturned husk of an HAV. “I think I’ll shut you up forever.”
***
“Christ,” Melissa said. “I wish I was down there.”
“Don’t do it,” Charlie said. “You’re an endangered species.”
“So are you,” Melissa said.
“Aren’t we all,” Mr. Gein added, lifting his glass. “Well, maybe not me, but it sure is fun to toast and talk desperate times with you two. If I’d known Americans were such great company I wouldn’t have helped wipe you from the planet.”
“There’s more of us,” Charlie said. “Hidden, secure. We’ll find them and make sure the Americans survive as a people.”
“Bully for you, boy!” Mr. Gein cheered and finished his drink. “This calls for another, don’t you think?”
***
The Line between Immy and Dog’s cyces sliced through everything in its path as if metal and flesh were made of air. Behind them lay the carnage of their attack. Nothing was left whole, nothing was left living. What the Line didn’t kill, Dog or Immy did, whether with their cyces’ guns or with a well placed shot from their pistols.
The two that were born of the wasteland did what came naturally to them: they destroyed. From deader hordes, to freak waste storms, the wasteland was nothing but barren destruction and open chaos. The cousins channeled that, made it their own, and brought the entire force of the wasteland down on the Three’s troopers.
With all cyces in synch with what had to be done, the riders of Eden painted the wasteland earth with foreign blood. The parched dirt soaked up the crimson liquid with a thirst that would have seemed animalistic if anyone had paid attention.
But no one did. They were too busy killing or dying.
***
“Getting a little bloody around here,” Stone said as he landed a right hook into Reginald’s cheek knocking him sideways and tumbling through the air into a pile of dead troopers. “With you playing patty cake with me it seems your forces have lost focus. And lost their lives.”
Reginald threw all the BC he could gather at Stone. Spears, blades, shards of sharpened metal, all imbedded themselves in various parts of Stone’s body. He stumbled back, but absorbed what he could and let the rest fall to the ground.
“That stung, but what was the point?” Stone asked. “We can be here all day, Reg. We can be here all decade. Nothing will change. You’ll fight me, I’ll fight you. Forever.”
“Then admit we are the same, Stone,” Reginald said as he fashioned a long sword from the shock suit of a broken trooper. “Just say the words and I’ll walk away like you want. That’s all it takes.”
Stone smiled at the sword and created his own. It was about two inches longer than Reginald’s. The other man noticed it and lengthened his. Stone replied in kind by extending his a fraction more.
Reginald’s face balled up with fury.
“STOP IT!” he roared.
“No,” Stone said as he gripped his sword with both hands. “Not until you recognize that we are not the same. You are Reginald. I am Stone. Two different people. Or machines. Or whatever the fuck we are. Get over your fucking need for equality and suck it up, Reg!”
Reginald charged Stone and their swords clashed, the clang of metal echoing across the wasteland making trooper and rider alike turn at the sound. The force of the impact created a small shockwave that sent dust and debris whipping through the battle. But neither Stone nor Reginald budged an inch.
“I will kill you, Stone,” Reginald said. “Then you will be right. We won’t be the same. You’ll be dead. I’ll be alive.”
***
“Call them back,” Ms. Isely said. “Those damn magcycle mutants, or whatever they are, are winning! Call the troops back! Have Reginald withdraw so we can reassess this plan and strike again!”
“Oh, Ms. Isely,” Mr. Plain said as he watched the battle on the holo in the center of the Three’s command tent. “Your lack of faith is sad.”
“Disappointing,” Mr. Brown Eyes nodded.
“Pitiful,” Mr. Continental almost spat.
“But, sirs, you have to realize-,” Ms. Isely started.
“No, we do not,” Mr. Plain said. “Have a peek outside, will you?”
Ms. Isely watched the men closely then cautiously got up and opened the tent flap. She looked past all of the work on the beach and at the rows of ships setting anchor in the bay.
“Dear, god,” Ms. Isely said. “Where did they all come from?”
“We have resources even you do not know about,” Mr. Continental replied. “So losing one skirmish in the desert isn’t an issue.”
“Not even a hiccup,” Mr. Plain said.
“Barely registers,” Mr. Brown Eyes added.
“So take your seat, Ms. Isely,” Mr. Continental ordered. “And watch it all play out.”
***
The riders rounded up the last of the troopers. No one said a word as they cut them down, executing them on the spot. The wasteland wasn’t about prisoners.
“Couldn’t have carried them on our cyces,” Immy said as she watched the range of emotions play across Dog’s face. “And I wouldn’t if I could. Not after what happened to Agnatha.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Dog replied turning his attention to the battle between Stone and Reginald. “What do we do about those guys?”
“Your call,” Immy said. “What can we do?”
“Leave them,” Dog replied. “I’m sure your father can keep tabs on them.”
“Already am,” the Mayor replied over the com. “Just sat down with some drinks and snacks. All of Eden is watching this fight. Quite a show.”
“He’s kidding, right?” Dog asked.
“Kidding?” Immy laughed. “Not even close. Half the wasteland is our entertainment. Better than the vids that the UDC used to broadcast. Reality is stranger than fiction.”
“That’s just messed up,” Dog said. “But I like it.”
Some of the riders pulled sidearms as the BTT shivered into existence just a few yards away.
“Let’s get the wounded inside and get the fuck out of here,” Melissa said from the door as the ramp extended to the ground. “Just heard from Capreze. They have a feeling a whole lot of undead are about to come down on the Stronghold. The couple BTTs that are available are on their way. You folks will be flying in style shortly. No time to waste.”
Fifty-Eight
The zombies were only yards behind Masters and Harlow as they ran to the Railer train they could see in the distance.
“HEY!” Masters shouted. “HEY! OVER HERE!”
“Mitch,” Harlow gasped. “Mitch…I can’t…”
“Bullshit,” he said as he draped her arm over his shoulder and helped her along. He turned and emptied his 9mm into the crush of zombies coming at them. He had no idea if he took any out, but he was glad to do something, anything. “Just hang on to me.”
“We won’t make…it,” Harlow said. She looked over at her hand on Masters’s shoulder and saw the black li
nes extending up her wrist and arm. She knew she had an hour or less. “Leave me. Baby…leave me.”
“Fuck that shit,” Masters said. “Not a fucking chance in hell I’m leaving a hot piece of ass like you to those things. You may hate me, but I still love you. And your ass. It’s mine, baby, all mine.”
Harlow couldn’t help but smile as she pushed herself to jog along with Masters. “You’re…going to…die too,” she croaked. “I can’t…have that.”
“Not your choice, sweet cheeks,” Masters said. “We keep going. Together.”
Harlow risked a look over her shoulder and gasped. They were so close. The smell and the sounds grew with every step.
“STAY STILL!” a voice boomed from above. “JUST STAND STILL FOR A MINUTE!”
Masters and Harlow looked up and both nearly fell over. A badly scorched and scarred BTT was just above them, the cargo bay door sliding open. Masters skidded to a stop and held Harlow to him.
“See, baby?” Masters said, kissing her feverous cheek. “All good. Cavalry arrived.”
The BTT settled over them and Masters shoved Harlow up into the cargo bay. He grabbed onto the edge and pulled himself up, barely escaping the grabbing hands of a hundred deaders. Some were able to leap at the BTT and grab the edge of the cargo hold, but as the bay door slid shut their hands were severed and the zombies fell away.
“Fuck,” Masters said, looking around at the BTT’s cargo hold. “Uh, hello?”
“Up in the cockpit,” Styles 7 said. “Come up, y’all. I have drinks.” The BTT lurched and Masters and Harlow felt it lose altitude. “Better drink up while we can still fly. This baby took a beating when that blast hit. Almost knocked me out of the air.”
“Are we heading back to the Stronghold?” Masters asked as he helped Harlow up the stairs from the hold.
“No can do, bud,” Styles 7’s voice said over the speakers. “This baby will never make it. I’m gonna put us down by that train. Maybe we can figure something out with them.”
