Fighting Iron 2: Perdition Plains

by Jake Bible

  “I think it was luck,” Clay called up to her. “When I fought the thing, I could tell it was about to fall apart. It wouldn’t have lasted much longer even if I hadn’t gotten the upper hand.”

  “Speaking of hands,” Morley said as he stepped from a side cave. “I have repaired the Prometheus’s arm. It is not an exact match and will need work over the next few days, but I was hoping you might pilot it again for a test run.”

  “The guy just woke up, Barnes,” Gibbons said. “How about we let him eat and take care of business before shoving him out of the cave in the big meat bag? That work for your schedule?”

  “Of course, of course,” Morley said, wiping his bloody hands on an even bloodier rag, accomplishing nothing but smearing the blood back and forth across his palms. “I’ll show you to the kitchen.”

  “Do you eat?” Clay asked.

  “Not sure,” Gibbons responded. “Hey, Barnes, do I eat?”

  “Yes, but you may not like your diet,” Morley replied. “It is fashioned after the Perditions’ diet. But, I suppose since you have never had a body and needed sustenance before then you may not know the difference.”

  “What difference?” Clay asked as they were led from the main cavern and into one of the other huts. The smell that hit him made his mouth water and stomach revolt at the same time. “Is that coffee?”

  “Chicory,” Morley said.

  “What else do I smell?” Gibbons said. “My stomach just grumbled. That’s what it’s called, right?”

  “Ah, yes, you have smelled the aged meat,” Morley said. He glanced at Clay. “I have salted meat for you, Mr. MacAulay. It is fresh, and I keep it sealed over here, so you need not worry about any contamination.”

  “Contamination from what?” Clay asked.

  Then he saw the “aged meat.” An entire leg of bison hung in the corner. It was stripped of hide, but there was plenty of fur on it in the way of mold. Clay knew there were tons of towns that had meat cellars where they aged pork or beef. The Brazilian Empire was known for their varieties and quality. This was not like that at all.

  “That’s rotten,” Clay said, taking a cautious step forward to verify. The wriggling under the flesh told him he’d hit the mark. “What is it with the Midlands and rotten meat?”

  “I would say that is a bit of a generalization,” Morley said. “It is only this region that requires a specialized diet. Perdition Plains is not like other towns. The citizens are…peculiar.”

  “Tell us something we don’t already know,” Gibbons said. His stomach growled loud enough for Clay to raise an eyebrow. “What? Give me a break. This is my first meal like ever, pal.”

  “Mr. MacAulay, your food is here,” Morley said as he popped open a barrel and plucked out several large hunks of perfectly cured meat. He set them on a plate and held it out. “Here you go. There is a table outside. Along with a water barrel you can dip out of if you are thirsty. I imagine you will be shortly after eating that meat. I’m dehydrating just looking at it.”

  Clay didn’t let Morley’s words pass him by as he took the offered plate. “My food? What about you?”

  “Yes, well, my diet is specialized,” Morley said. “As I said, this region requires it.”

  “You’re going to eat that?” Clay asked, nodding at the rotten leg of bison. “Why in the hell would you?”

  “How about you step outside and have a seat, Mr. MacAulay,” Morley said. “I will serve Mr. Gibbons and join you both as soon as I have prepared plates for myself and Paige.”

  “Sure,” Clay said and retreated from the kitchen.

  He quickly found the table outside and set his plate down. Clay ladled some water into a mug that hung from the side of the water barrel then took a seat as Gibbons came out, his face close to his plate, nose breathing deeply.

  “This is going to get weird, isn’t it?” Gibbons asked as he sat across from Clay. “You’re going to freak out if I eat this, right?”

  “I won’t freak out,” Clay replied. “But I probably won’t ask to try a bite.”

  “Goddammit!” Paige shouted.

  “Daughter? Paige, my dear?” Morley called out as he walked from the kitchen to the table, a plate of spoiled bison in each hand. “Lunch is served.”

  “Lunch?” Clay asked.

  “Yeah, you slept through the night and the morning,” Gibbons said. “I only said night before so you didn’t feel lazy.”

  “Why would you do that?” Clay asked.

  Gibbons shrugged. “Empathy? That’s what meat bags do, right? Feel empathy?”

  “Do you feel empathy, Mr. Gibbons?” Morley asked, his eyes excited.

  “Not really,” Gibbons said. “Maybe I will after I eat.”

  “Is that the six month or eight month?” Paige asked as she joined them, slapping a pair of work gloves onto the table next to her plate. She sat down, straddling the bench, and plucked a chunk of bison up and sniffed it. “Father, this is the four month. Where is the eight month?”

  “I needed the eight month for some repairs,” Morley said sheepishly. “The six month is in the larder. It needs to age to replace the eight month.”

  “So we get four month until then?” Paige snapped. “Lovely.”

  Clay pushed his plate away. He looked at Gibbons, who was busy shoving as much rotten meat into his mouth as fast as he could, and shivered.

  “Someone tell me what’s going on,” Clay said. “Why are you eating meat that most folks would avoid, you know, because it will kill you?”

  “Yes, well, you see, Mr. MacAulay, just like the Perditions—” Morley started.

  “We are nothing like the Perditions,” Paige grumbled around a mouthful of meat.

  “Not in character, no,” Morley said. “But biologically, we are very similar, although the Perditions are much, much older.”

  “Biologically similar how?” Clay asked. “What the fuck are you people?”

  “Language!” Morley hissed. “I have invited you into my home. The least you can do is act civilized while we eat.”

  “Yeah, pal, act civilized,” Gibbons said as a squirming maggot dropped from between his lips. “Hey there, little guy, where ya think you’re going?” He plucked it up and popped it into his mouth. “Clay, you really gotta try this. It’s delicious. I don’t have much to compare it to, but I’ll be eating more, that’s for sure.”

  “Gonna pass, buddy,” Clay said. He looked at Paige. “You want to fill me in or is this conversation going to take all day and all night?”

  “Lazaroti,” Paige said. “We’re lazaroti. Me, my father, the Perditions, everyone that lives in Perdition Plains.”

  Clay blinked a few times then stood up and jumped back from the table. Yet again, he went for his missing pistol then his missing knife. He swore and looked about for a weapon, any weapon, he could use to defend himself as he shouted, “Ghouls? You’re ghouls? Son of a bitch!”

  “Lazaroti?” Gibbons asked mid-chew. “Hold on. This slow brain is accessing its database. Lazaroti, lazaroti, lazaroti… Oh… Damn…”

  “Ghoul is the pejorative,” Morley said, his face filled with contempt. “It is a bigoted term from a time long gone by. Lazaroti are merely a sub-section of humanity that has evolved differently due to a genetic anomaly that once afflicted the entire human race because of a rampant virus.”

  “Don’t call us ghouls,” Paige said as she took a bite and chewed it casually. “It’s a dick thing to say.”

  “Language,” Morley said. “Civilized while we eat. It separates us from the—”

  “Baser animals of our kind,” Paige interrupted and finished for her father. “I know.”

  “Yet I still must remind you,” Morley said. He smiled and nodded at Clay. “Please, Mr. MacAulay, rejoin us. I can assure you that we are no danger to you.”

  “I might be,” Gibbons said. “Sometimes ghouls eat living flesh. You smell good, Clay. Mighty good.”

  “Mr. Gibbons, stop that,” Morley said. “Lazaroti do n
ot eat living flesh. Our ancestors did millennia ago, yes, but our genetics have evolved so that we only eat dead meat. Preferably aged and spoiled for several months, but we can eat day old meat if we are forced to. Only to survive. It is not palatable, to say the least.”

  “To say the least,” Clay said. “Cooking it is out of the question, am I right?”

  “You are correct,” Morley said. “Putting flame to food would make it inedible to us.”

  Clay hesitated then sat back down, his eyes locked onto Morley’s. Gibbons smacked his lips and looked down at his empty plate.

  “More, please,” he said.

  “Of course, how silly of me,” Morley said and stood up. He took Gibbons’ plate. “Your body isn’t used to the intense thought processes going on. You need brain food!”

  He chuckled to himself, muttering “brain food” over and over as he left the table and went back to the kitchen.

  Clay forced himself to look at Paige. She had a sly smirk on her face and was busy looking back at him as she picked at her food.

  “You want to know why we don’t look like walking corpses like the townsfolk or the Perditions,” Paige stated.

  “It crossed my mind,” Clay said.

  “Because we’re alive,” Paige said. “They are too, sort of, but not like us. Most of those townsfolk are over a hundred years old. The Perdition siblings are even older. Way older.”

  “That’s possible?” Clay asked.

  “No big deal,” Gibbons said. “An AI can live forever if I have the proper system.”

  “Sure it’s possible,” Paige said, ignoring Gibbons. “They just have to eat human meat regularly. You didn’t happen to hear or see anything while you were in town, did you? Someone screaming and begging? They like to make a show of it.”

  Clay gulped and thought back on his unfortunate night in Perdition Plains.

  “Yeah, I did,” Clay said.

  “They find strangers and keep them penned up,” Paige said. “Haul them out every few nights and butcher them in the streets. That’s the only time they eat fresh flesh. Humans have to be consumed alive for their life force to be transferred.”

  “Sweet God,” Clay whispered.

  “Don’t know if the Lord has anything to do with it,” Paige said.

  “Why didn’t they eat me or put me in their pens?” Clay asked.

  “You’re an experienced mech pilot,” Paige said.

  Clay frowned then thought he got it. “Like Mr. Bell,” he responded. “They were going to make me eat rotten meat then turn me into a Mr. Bell.”

  “Not quite,” Paige said. “Mr. Bell is like Gibbons here.” She nodded at the automaton body. “Built for one thing. They left Mr. Bell’s brain intact, upgraded his physical self with some mechanical modifications, a reverse of what they did to your mech, then stripped his consciousness of all free will, programmed him to do their bidding, and handed him your mech.”

  “What were they going to do to me then?” Clay asked.

  “Make you more like Holcomb,” Paige said. “Make you one of their kind. It’s a slow process, one that requires constant consumption of spoiled meat, but it can be done.”

  “But you said this is a genetic thing,” Clay said. “How do they know I have the DNA to become one of them?”

  Paige frowned and shrugged. “Everyone does. The virus was species-wide. At one point, the entire human population of the world was infected. Viruses alter DNA. It used to be a lot worse, believe me.”

  Gibbons looked from Clay to Paige then back to Clay.

  “She didn’t answer why she looks normal and not like a cadaver,” Gibbons said. “She’s dancing around the subject.”

  “Let’s just say that we used to look like them,” Paige said. “A long time ago. But Father found a way for us to be young again. Or relatively young. Father ages faster than I do.”

  “Dancing,” Gibbons said.

  “We’re not a threat to you, Clay,” Paige said. “I’m going to fix up that mech of yours and get you on your way. No need for a healthy man like you to be stuck in a place of death like this.”

  “You’re pretty healthy too,” Clay said. “Why not leave? You could fit right in anywhere you want. Might be hard for you to eat out, but there are stranger folks in the world.”

  “Clay MacAulay? Are you trying to be my hero?” Paige asked.

  “Wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Clay replied.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Gibbons said.

  “Not cool, buddy,” Clay said. “Just eat your—”

  “No, I’m actually going to be sick!” Gibbons announced as he stood up and rushed from the table.

  He made it about ten steps before his body voided itself. Gibbons stood there, his trousers a mess, then turned back and looked at Clay, completely helpless.

  “Oh, wow,” Clay said, trying not to laugh. “Uh, Gibbons, I think you had an accident.”

  “It’s nasty!” Gibbons cried. “What the hell just happened to me? Why does it stink? What is going on down there?”

  “You just pooped your pants,” Clay said and burst out laughing. “Welcome to having a body.”

  “Having a body sucks!” Gibbons shouted. “I want to be a mech again! Please! Get me out of this meat bag!”

  Clay laughed and laughed. He finally got it under control and looked at Paige. She wasn’t laughing, but her smirk had grown considerably.

  “What?” Clay asked.

  “He’s your AI, not mine,” Paige said. “You get to clean him up.” She stood and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I have a mech to work on so your friend can get out of that meat bag.”

  She walked off towards the battle mech, making sure to take a wide berth around Gibbons. Clay watched her go then shifted his focus onto the figure standing there with messy trousers. He sighed, got up, and walked over to his friend.

  “Come on, let’s clean you up,” Clay said, taking short breaths through his mouth. “I’m sure we can find something else you can wear.”

  Clay led Gibbons towards the hut they’d come out of earlier.

  “Here you go, Mr. Gibbons,” Morley said as he came out of the kitchen, oblivious to everything that had just occurred. “Hey, where did everyone go? And what is that smell?”

  Eighteen

  The candle flickered in its holder, the light playing on the wall of the hut as Clay lay wide awake on the cot, his hands behind his head. Gibbons slept on the floor, snoring loudly. Clay had insisted they find him a cot, but he said he wouldn’t know the difference and the floor was fine. Clay suspected Gibbons was afraid he’d have another accident and mess the cot.

  Lunch had turned into dinner, which Gibbons politely refused, once again, in Clay’s estimation, due to his fear he’d have another accident. Clay had eaten salted meat, drank plenty of water, but hadn’t grilled the Barneses further about who or what they were. They may have been lazaroti, like the Perdition Plains residents, but they were certainly not ghouls. He felt no need to insult them since they had saved his ass and were being gracious hosts.

  Not to mention that Paige was spending a lot of time and energy fixing up the battle mech. She was also using up almost every curse word known to man and when she’d run out of original ones she began to invent them.

  “Cock knocking dork bugger turd snot!” Paige shouted from the main cavern.

  Clay flicked open his pocket watch and saw it was three in the morning. He hadn’t been able to sleep a wink since he’d retired to the hut, and he didn’t expect he would the rest of the night, so he sat up, slid on his boots, and decided to see what exactly was causing the call of cock knocking dork bugger turd snot.

  “You should get some sleep,” Clay said as he left the hut and approached the scaffolded battle mech. “You’re going to hurt yourself or fall off that scaffolding, if you don’t rest.”

  “I’m not like you, Mr. MacAulay,” Paige replied. “I only need sleep every few days.”

  “Is that a d
ifference between you and the Perdition Plains people?” Clay asked. “Can I call them people? No offense, but are lazaroti people?”

  “They’re people,” Paige said as she threw a wrench into a large tool box and stepped back from her frustrating work. “I wouldn’t go so far and call the Perditions people. Some of the townsfolk aren’t so bad, they just got mixed up in the wrong business and don’t know how to get out.”

  “I can see that,” Clay said as he began to climb the scaffolding. Once up to Paige’s platform, he stood for a while with his hands on his hips and studied her work. “I have no idea what you’re trying to do here, but I appreciate the effort.”

  “I’m afraid I have no idea what I’m doing either,” Paige said. “But thank ya kindly anyway.”

  “We need Holcomb on this,” Clay said. “He supervised the first repairs, he could do it again.”

  “That is not an option,” Paige said. “Holcomb is the Perditions’ man. He isn’t strictly evil, but he won’t go against that family no matter what argument you present.”

  “Who says I was going to present an argument?” Clay laughed. “I was thinking of taking the flesh mech into town and kidnapping his ass. He fixes my mech and we have two mechs, including the flesh mech. Then we stomp on into Perdition Plains and squish the hell out of the folks in charge. Cut the head off the beast and watch it die.”

  “I applaud your optimism,” Paige said, giving him a look before continuing, “but you are sadly misguided…”

  “What is it?” Clay asked as Paige trailed off.

  “Two mechs,” Paige said. She smacked her forehead. “Why am I bothering to try to reinvent the damn wheel?”

  She started to rip off the flesh parts that she had managed to attach then yanked her hands back.

  “No, leave those there,” she said more to herself than to Clay. “They’re holding things together. For now.”

  She quickly scrambled down the scaffolding. Clay watched her go, confused as to what she was talking about. When Paige was on the ground, and halfway across the cavern floor, she stopped and looked over her shoulder.