by Ethan Cooper
JACK isn’t crying, but she’s doing that thing with her face that comes right before it. Can wirewitches cry? Don’t want to see that. For some reason, especially not from her.
“What can we do?” I ask.
THUD. Structural, cracking noises in my ear. THUD.
“You didn’t give us much of a choice,” NAAQ replies.
And then I lose control. NAAQ is either caught off guard by my attack or she doesn’t care, because she doesn’t resist when I turn, grab her arm and swing her around, pushing her against the wall, close enough to feel her, smell her. She’s bigger than me, heavier, so I have no clue how I was able to move her at all—I have really awesome adrenaline I guess. There’s a faint buzzing in my ears. A shake of my head and it’s gone.
“I’M NOT DOING THIS! THIS ISN’T ME!” The words come out as a scream, primal.
NAAQ’s lips pull back; several of her teeth elongating, sharpening. She’s got a mouthful of fangs now. Every cell in my body is telling me that I’m in the process of committing suicide by wirewitch, but some unfamiliar part of myself is in control. I’m just along for the ride. I get an up-close-and-personal look at NAAQ’s teeth, still growing. I can see the etched pathways on those white surfaces, razor-edged and glistening with her saliva. She doesn’t move to push me away. And why would she? I’m insignificant. She’s here, breath in my face, chest rising and falling against mine, but not fighting back. Why isn’t she fighting back?
“So, the false-human has some fight in her,” NAAQ observes. “Good. She’ll need it soon.”
THUD THUD.
Furious that NAAQ’s talking about me like I’m in the next room instead of three centimeters off her chin, but also scared about what’s outside trying to get in, I back off, releasing her. “How do we get out of here?”
She raises an eyebrow, perhaps at my use of we, then she smiles, her head tilting toward the other room. “There’s only one way out.”
JACK is whimpering.
“Oh glitch, we’re in trouble,” one of the other wirewitches—thin, only a few inches taller than JACK—says.
“What is it, KIKA?” NAAQ asks.
“Eoas. Two of them.” THUD THUD.
Dodged death at least twice since I woke up in that alley, and now a pair of eoas have come to dance. Not sure what my life was like before, but I must’ve been a really bad girl.
There’s not much left of the wall out there. The hole the beasts have made is almost big enough for one of them to fit through. Don’t think I’ve ever seen an eoa before. Metal bones jutting from random places in skin, six legs and a long muscly tail topped with spikes. Demon horns on the head and dull gray tusks from below the jaw. Their movements violent, frantic to enter. Prey is near.
“Don’t you have any weapons?” I ask.
“Nothing we could give you,” NAAQ says. Unspoken in her tone is: we are the weapons.
“We will fight,” the last wirewitch says.
“TERA…” KIKA sighs. “We should run. We can outrun eoas.”
But she doesn’t sound confident.
“You—we don’t have a choice,” I say. THUD THUD.
“She’s right,” 3-43 says. “At the very least, we have to fight past them.” His right arm has changed, becoming a thick spike with bladed edges. The fingers on his other hand are claws, long and thin.
An exhale whistles through NAAQ’s teeth. After a second, her body begins to change as well. Her eyes are on fire. The other wirewitches are morphing too, their bodies expanding, compressing, and even sprouting new limbs, smooth curves becoming bladed edges. For the most part, their skinsuits stretch to accommodate their modified forms, but there are areas where a spike pokes out or a blade of flesh slices through. Molecular control gives them incredible abilities, bodies reshaping for battle. Within seconds, the wirewitches project a new level of lethality. Even trembling little JACK looks as deadly as the rest.
THUD!
Followed by a deep roar, and the last remnants of the wall bursting inward.
THUD!
The first eoa takes a step into the building.
I’m useless here without any weapons. Can feel static in the distance, threatening to move closer. Have to push that down. Can’t let it take over again. Must maintain control.
must the
silence static
beastTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD
The wirewitches move quickly into the other room. NAAQ’s in the front, and I follow behind the coven. The stench of a butchered animal left too long in the sun filters through the dusty air. Brown fluid streaks the lead eoa’s tusks. Is that its blood? The second one is still behind it, unable to enter yet. Room’s way too small for five wirewitches, two eoas and one blue-haired girl.
Why aren’t the wirewitches talking to each other? Shouldn’t they be coordinating their attack?
The lead eoa emits a low rumble as the coven advances. It towers over them, opening its mouth and rearing its head, tusks ready, massive horns tearing away chunks of the ceiling with every move.
NAAQ’s the tip of the spear, but KIKA attacks first. Just a blur as she leaps, landing in front of the first eoa, swinging an appendage that looks more like a katana than an arm. The eoa’s jaw splits open, dousing the wirewitch in a geyser of brownish goo—okay, blood. Her other arm, a spike, flashes upward immediately, traveling up through the eoa’s jaw and up into the roof of its mouth. The eoa tries to roar, but it comes out in a wet, muffled gurgle, goo spraying from its open mouth.
The other wirewitches move in to attack.
KIKA slips, landing on her back, and one of the eoa’s front feet pins her to the ground. She slashes at the foot with her arms, digging deep into the thick flesh, but the weight of the beast is too much.
I hear NAAQ scream as the eoa ducks its head.
The eoa’s squat head jerks up, tusks slick, and then something flies at me in a quick cutting arc. Can’t dodge it, coming too fast, can only flail my hands, helpless to deflect the brown and blue fluids splattering across the canvas of my body. KIKA’s decapitated head bounces off my outstretched hands and falls to the floor, rolls, comes to rest against the wall.
And like that, the coven is incomplete.
9/Second Requiem
2195.12.11/Morning
unclean
unclean
unclean
I’m unclean
I’m unclean, and the wirewitches are wailing—a strange sound that I’ve never heard before, reverberating in my heart, aggravating my ears. There’s a knife in that sound, cutting me up inside. It wasn’t just the violence with which KIKA died; it was the suddenness. And how easily she was dispatched. Don’t know how their bodies work, but it doesn’t look like they can just regrow their heads. Their regeneration abilities must have limits.
I understand their wailing. I know the reason. I want to open my mouth and wail with them.
But I’m frozen, unable to make a sound, covered with wirewitch blood, dark blue and silver. It’s dripping from my forehead, onto my limbs, mixing with the eoa blood, brown and blue combining into a sickish color I can’t describe, the fluids soaking into my shirt, sticky against my skin underneath.
baptize me (in blood)
a splatterstroke
of blue (and brown)
And the wirewitches swarm the eoa.
Their wails fade as the roars of the eoa rise, blade and spike drawing new wounds across rough flesh. I can hear the dull, metallic ringing as the wirewitches repeatedly hit bone. The coven is in a frenzy, dashing in and darting out before the eoa can retaliate. The eoa, bleeding from deep wounds, senses this and tries to retreat, back to the street, but his horns are caught in the ceiling. The wirewitches retreat as the eoa’s head jerks back and forth, tusks heaving side to side. Beneath, is KIKA’s body, squashed and crooked as the beast attempts to extricate itself from the collapsing ceiling.
THUD.
The wall to the left of the eoa dents inward. The second one wants in. The wall may
have a metal infrastructure, but it won’t keep the eoa out for much longer. We’re trapped in here.
“We need to get outside!” I yell. “We’ll be slaughtered if we stay inside!”
The entire room is shaking as the trapped eoa thrashes about.
3-43 catches my eye and nods. He understands the situation. Proof of his mortality is beneath the eoa. And all over me.
THUD.
NAAQ shouts something I don’t catch, and the wirewitches form up on her, just off to my right. They’re all spattered with eoa blood—even JACK.
THUD THUD THUD.
The wall beside the trapped eoa gives way in several places. The second eoa is bigger than the first, but the first begins to show signs of exhaustion. Its movements grow languid, drawn out, as if it were moving through thick mud.
Wirewitches attacking. Initial blows are brutal, thick skin ripped from its front legs, head, and sides, brown waterfalls everywhere. The eoa scrambles backward, finally pulling free of the wall. The ceiling near the wall caves in, but the wirewitches are already in the street, pressing the battle to its conclusion. Frenzied, they’re seeking swift battlefield retribution.
I run through the mangled wall, dodging sparking wires and sharp metal shards. Distracted, second eoa has turned to the wirewitches, ignoring me. I’m not the threat they are. I stay off to one side, but I don’t
(runaway)
move down the street. Not sure why. I just crouch.
Sun’s coming up. Grayish and diseased.
The first eoa goes down, one front leg sliced through by NAAQ. JACK leaps into the air. Her body arcs over the other witches, spikes extended, landing on the eoa’s head, arms raised upward, bringing them down, the eoa’s brain punctured. Eoa stiffens and spasms. JACK is thrown back over its enormous mass, her hairstalks flailing as she crashes to the street. Eoa slumps to the ground, deadweight and silent.
But the second eoa is close now. It lowers its head and—this can’t be possible can it?—leaps into the air. NAAQ’s body is jerked downward under the impact, her arms and legs twitching, the eoa’s foot gushing brown all over her prickly back.
“NAAQ!” JACK screams, moving toward the eoa.
3-43 moves also, but the eoa’s tail swings forward, over its back, forcing him to duck, stalling his approach.
NAAQ is making a terrible sound. “Kill it!” she manages. How can she talk with the eoa crushing her?
This eoa is bigger, smarter. It’s using its tail more effectively than the first one, the huge bonespikes making it difficult for the wirewitches to get close.
“Hurry,” I say, but it’s only a whisper. “It’s going to—”
A spurt of blue liquid as the eoa lowers its head and takes NAAQ’s arm in its mouth, yanking, tearing the limb off with a twitch. NAAQ’s wail hits my ears. Want to
(runaway)
cover them and crawl into a corner. I don’t. I just stare.
Again the head goes down, the second arm ripped away, a snake of blue blood slithering down into a pool beneath the eoa. When the eoa’s head lowers a third time, there’s brief thrashing and wet grindings.
NAAQ stops making noises.
There’s a new equation in my world: five minus two equals three.
10/Third Twilight
2195.12.11/Morning
TERAJACK3-43
Names all squishy together in my mind.
Wirewitches are so stunned, they’re just standing there, disbelief splattered across their faces. Eoa emits a low, rumbling growl, rich with triumphant harmonies.
The eoa shuffles forward. Oh, toward me.
Stepping backward, my eyes are drawn toward the eoa. NAAQ’s blood carves a crooked smile across the eoa’s jaw, the fluid thick and gummy. The eoa’s eyes—dim, sunken orbs set in shadow—are fixed on me. Barely visible, but they’re definitely zeroed in. Body begins to shiver. Taking another step back, but the eoa will reach me in another moment regardless. So big. And those eyes…
Flash of blue. The wirewitches back on the offensive. Saved again, if but for only a few more breaths.
The eoa’s tail whips out, catches TERA on her side. She grunts loudly, somehow dodging the bonespikes on the tail, but her body flies backward, skidding across the street.
3-43 moves in, but a jerk of the eoa’s head sends him tumbling against a wall. He crumples to the ground, stunned, struggling for breath, hairstalks limp.
Another step back, and then I lower to my knees. The static is back, making my brain throb. Get my head out of this vise and turn off that buzzsaw!
JACK’s underneath the eoa, slashing at its belly. The beast is roaring in frustration, rearing up and then back down, tail slashing. JACK darts away, unhurt, drenched in brown goo.
The wirewitches and the eoa dance. With death only half a second away, there’s no room for any miscalculations. You dance properly, or you’re dead.
The coven still isn’t talking out loud; they’re silent in their attacks, only grunting and groaning out of reflex and necessity. Too accustomed to the way it was before Cyberspace went offline. They strike at random in uncoordinated and ineffective attacks. They should talk. They are weakened and are growing weaker. The eoa takes damage, but it is wounding them faster, its unnatural bone structure brutalizing them when they strike.
I want to help, but I can’t. Weaponless and defenseless, I kneel and wait, like the prey that I am.
But I’m not the next one to fall.
It’s TERA this time. She falters awkwardly in front of the eoa, shoving razor-bladed arms into the eoa’s face. Eoa pulls back, evading her thrusts, then charges forward.
No slow motion this time because the world’s gone all light speed on me. A fast-forwarded Realspace…
…flashes before me, and I’m only a spectator because the eoa slams into TERA who is caught between the eoa’s tusks somehow she manages to go between them and not get stabbed through but she is pressed up against the eoa’s face being driven backward and upward as the eoa lifts its head TERA’s feet leave the ground and then the eoa collides with a building tusks impaling the wall and TERA’s body bursts in several places oh I can see something pouring out of her head back there a hairstalk ripped out from the force of the blow only a stump now the rest of it falls to the ground shriveling and lifeless but she is still alive and I know this because her leg just morphed into a wide blade which she is using to slit the eoa just beneath its head going for whatever serves as its neck but it’s not going to do any good because she’s dying in front of me and JACK and 3-43 and there’s nothing we can do to help her or even avenge her death because the eoa is going to kill us all but first it needs to finish with TERA and so it begins to grind her body against the wall pushing deeper into what is quickly becoming rubble TERA is beating the eoa but her body resumes its natural shape and her blades and spikes become smooth skin once again and then the eoa pulls its head with jagged tusks wet and gleaming in the rising sun and TERA’s body is torn in half when the eoa yanks sideways and through my tears and static I can see her body fall to the ground in two tumbling arcs and I bow my head…
Because I don’t want to watch anymore.
11/Fourth Fate
2195.12.11/Morning
My mind wants to know why. It’s prodding and poking, asking me questions I don’t know answers to. It wants to know the answers—all the answers—and it wants to know them now. Now now now! It’s my inner spoiled child, and it’s frustrated, unsatisfied and whiney.
Why did the wirewitches die?
Why are the eoas attacking?
Am I going to live through this?
My foot hurts. It’s a biting pain somewhere below me. Been ignoring it for a while, but suddenly it’s the only thing on my mind. It throbs like somebody’s squeezing my foot in their fist. The sounds of battle fade as the wound in my foot announces its presence. It has a focusing effect. Like the point of a needle or a thin line of laser light, it simplifies the complex, deconstructs the world until it’s a s
ingle atom.
(there…focus there)
Open my eyes and raise my head. The fray materializes in front of me, but nothing has changed. I’m still alive, waiting for the end, and JACK and 3-43 are squaring off against the eoa. They are protecting me. Why?
“We can’t win!” I shout. “We need to get out of here!”
I expect the wirewitches to ignore me, and they do. Wirewitches probably never run. Who knows what’s going on in their circuit-infected heads? Logic all twisted. Maybe this is the first time they’ve ever been on the losing side. And they are losing. That eoa isn’t going to stop until we’re all in pieces.
“It’s going to kill us all! You can’t win!”
“We know,” JACK says. Dodges the eoa’s tail.
“Leave us to our business!” 3-43 says, ducking and leaping. “You don’t understand!”
Fuck. That.
I’m on my feet, screaming, “You’ll die! What about JACK?”
Streams of eoa goo spurt into the air. 3-43 is a blur. “She is a wirewitch! She understands!”
“I don’t want to die,” JACK says calmly, in the air again, arcing gently toward the ground.
3-43 turns his head at that, but doesn’t reply. Still, he paused. Something’s alive in there after all.
JACK moves in on the beast, jumping over swinging tusks, sticking her spike arm into the eoa’s left eye, pulling out and rolling away and then back up on her feet. The eoa lurches sideways, partially blinded, a greenish puss bubbling from its eye socket. 3-43 is ready, darting close and bringing his arm down, a severing blade of hardened flesh. A tusk falls to the ground, clanging on the street. The eoa is off-balance now, unable to control its movements with any grace.
The wirewitches move in for the kill. The end is near, and the eoa senses it, its body movements suddenly erratic.
3-43’s arms are longer now, two pikes. He charges the eoa’s head from the front, leaping only to avoid the remaining tusk. His arms, stretched out before him, sink deep into the eoa’s head. I can only assume that he hits the eoa’s brain because the eoa’s body goes stiff for a second, then crumbles to the ground in a puddle of its own blood. There’s a sigh from the great beast, then the unmistakable stench of waste as its bowels release.
