67 – Cliffside Skirmish
Andy stood over his vanquished foe, contemplating the System’s message. He hoped things weren’t as urgent as it made them sound. There were lots of people up in the settlement who could fight, or there had been. Still, he wanted to be there. He wanted to be in the thick of it. Maybe it wasn’t a good leadership style—needing to be hands-on with everything—but the simple truth was that he was stronger than anyone else, including the Hardheads; hadn’t he just killed their champion?
Andy thought about picking up Chavez’s sword, but figured he could come back for it; he had no way to carry it comfortably. Seeing the weapon lying there made him wonder where Chavez had gotten it. Had he been an enthusiast before the apocalypse? Had he earned it from the System via some kind of quest? Were the people crafting weapons at Construction City so advanced in their skill that they could make something as complicated as a katana? Somehow, he doubted it.
Andy stepped past the body, spear ready, and continued down the tunnel. Hopefully, he’d find the way up to the trailer park quicker than if he went outside, lowered himself down, and then ran to the spot where Dwayne was waiting to lower him a rope. He didn’t have to go far before things changed; the corridor opened up into an expansive chamber with rounded walls and a domed ceiling. Two other tunnels led away from it, and at its center was a stone stairwell leading down.
Andy approached warily, eyeing the darkness into which the narrow steps descended, but his keen eyes couldn’t spot anything to be concerned about. Part of him wanted to explore, but he knew he couldn’t, not while people were fighting for their lives up in the settlement. He studied the two exits, and one of them had a distinct upward slope, so he jogged that way.
Ten feet into the new tunnel, the grade drastically steepened. It curved sharply to the right, and Andy hurried forward, sensing that he was traveling in a tight, upward spiral. After thirty seconds or so, as his thighs began to burn, he saw a flat section of floor approaching. When he got there, he found himself at a dead end—curved stone walls all around. He might have been dismayed if not for the open ceiling and the fresh air traveling down to him from above.
He reached up, grabbed the stone lip, and pulled himself up into the darkness. Just as he’d suspected, he was underneath a trailer. As he lay there, scanning left and right, looking for a break in the trailer’s skirting, he heard people yelling in the distance and he smelled…fire. Things were burning. He crawled forward, spear ahead of him, toward a small gap in the sheet metal skirting.
He grabbed hold of the edge with his gloved hand and pushed, popping out a few screws and bending it enough for him to crawl through. When he leaped to his feet, he saw a night made wild by the chaotic movement and bright colors of fire. He held his sleeve to his face as the wind shifted, throwing billowing clouds of smoke into his face. Scanning around, he saw that at least two trailers were burning over by the gate, and he could see lights bobbing in the night off to the south.
Most of the shouts were coming from that direction, too, so Andy gripped his spear before him and ran, charging through the park, racing toward the scene. When he broke past the last of the trailers, he saw that the fence had been cut and pulled away from the metal post ahead of him.
The wind carried shouts and screams to him, and he saw torches and lanterns out there in the dark beyond the fence. Thanks to the light of the fires behind him, he didn’t even need enhanced vision to see that a melee was underway. Dozens of people were wildly fighting out there in the field between the fence and the edge of the mesa. Bodies were scattered on the ground, and Andy couldn’t tell if they were invaders or friends of his, not in the dark and smoke. The scene was chaotic—people screaming, waving torches, and hacking weapons as they piled on each other.
At first, Andy felt frozen as his brain fought with itself over who to help first; he saw Bernice screaming madly, holding a long staff between herself and a man with a huge butcher’s knife in each hand. He saw Tucker, spear out, driving it toward another man with a hatchet, who wore a vest adorned with circular metal armor plates. He looked from one fight to another, recognizing someone who could use his help in each one. Then he saw Lucy, and he broke into a sprint.
She had her bow in one hand, an arrow in the other, but a man with a massive, two-handed maul was chasing her. Every time she tried to nock the arrow, the guy would get close and haul that hammer at her with murderous intent. She was running, but the edge of the plateau was close, and Andy growled in frustration as he dug deeper, commanding his legs to move faster and drive harder.
Lucy reached the edge, she turned, and Andy could tell she was contemplating her odds of getting past the guy with the hammer. Then, she saw Andy coming, locked eyes with him, and nodded. She dropped her arrow, held her bow between both her hands, and lowered her center of gravity, watching the big guy approach. He hauled the maul back—
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
And then Andy smashed into him. He was coming at an angle, and he hit the guy with his shoulder, driving him right past Lucy. Andy skidded his feet, dropped to his butt, and slid, following Lucy’s aggressor all the way to the edge of the cliff. The man fell off, screaming as he plummeted. Andy scrabbled at the clumps of dried grass, barely stopping as his feet passed the edge. Lucy fell to her knees and grabbed his wrist, and with her help, Andy pulled himself up, crawling a few feet on his hands and knees.
Lucy grabbed him around the neck and squeezed. Andy wanted to savor the moment. He wanted to hug her back, but he was facing the battle, and he saw people in trouble. “Come on,” he grunted, hauling himself—and her along with him—up. “Grab your bow. We gotta finish this.”
Lucy let go of him and looked toward the fight, nodding. “Only have one arrow.”
Andy nodded, drawing his System-award dagger from its sheath. He watched her pick up her bow and the single arrow, then he dropped his spear near her feet. “Use that.” Then, he charged into the fight, knife held ready. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t given Lucy the knife. He supposed it was because he knew the spear was a friendly weapon for a novice. She’d have the advantage of reach, and the length would make her small size less of a detriment.
He, on the other hand, had reached his soft-cap on all of his physical attributes. He had a talent for landing critical hits, and, in the darkness and wild shadows thrown by the blazing trailers, his ability to sneak and hide would make outright combat less likely. So, Andy glided through the shadows, moving from one pitched fight to another, sliding his knife into vulnerable backs, sides, legs, and necks.
As he helped his friends overcome their enemies, they rushed to help tip the scales in other fights, and soon the tide began to shift against the Hardhead invaders. He saw Lucy once, driving his spear into a tall axe-wielding maniac’s side. Then, he was distracted as someone smashed a heavy ball-peen hammer into his helmet. The plastic cracked, and the impact sent him reeling. Before he could whirl to fight his aggressor, the man had been overwhelmed by Jace and his sister. They bore him to the ground and laid into him with their weapons—and teeth.
Looking around, Andy thought it looked like the battle was about over. His people were everywhere, and only a couple of Hardheads were on their feet. One of them caught his attention, roaring and screaming over near the edge of the mesa. He was tall, wore a motorcycle helmet similar to Andy’s, and held a giant axe crosswise before him. He swung it left and right, keeping people at bay, but they kept advancing, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.
“You losers! You think you’re taking me out? I got you fuckers right where I want you!” the man bellowed. By then, the rest of the fights were over, and everyone was moving toward him; even Andy and Lucy had started that way, though Andy wasn’t sure what he’d do. He wasn’t going to stop his people from pushing the guy off. Besides, he doubted they’d listen to him if he wanted to—not after the night they’d had. He wasn’t sure how many of the park residents had died, but he could see plenty of wounded, angry people.
As he watched, wondering if the man would give up and lie down, hoping for mercy, he suddenly lifted his head to the sky and screamed. It was a sound that seemed too loud to be coming from a human throat. Then, right there in the open, for all to see, the guy started to…transform. It was straight out of a werewolf movie—his arms exploded in length, making his leather jacket look like it was short-sleeved. Claws extended from his fingertips, showering the yellow grass with droplets of blood. He screamed again, but this time it deepened and became a roar. The man stretched in height, his chest expanded, and—
One of the people in front, a stocky man with dark hair, charged forward with a spear and drove it into the monstrous man, punching it into his stomach. The creature—werewolf? Could it really be?—swiped one of its massively clawed hands downward and shattered the spear. The man screamed, falling to the side, and Andy realized the claws had hit more than the spear; they’d shredded the spear wielder’s forearm.
As people began to panic and back away, Andy pushed forward. Lucy hurried to his side, pushing his spear at him. “Take this!”
Andy nodded, handing her his knife. “Right.” Spear in hand, he started forward, past other people who warily faced the monster, weapons ready. He felt proud of the people around him in that moment. No one was running. No one was screaming. They were all facing the massive, slavering monster with determined eyes. Well, everyone but the guy on the ground, crawling toward the circle of defenders, grunting as he dragged himself with his unwounded arm. For the first time, Andy saw his face, and his heart began to race. It was Omar.
Andy continued forward, hurrying. He stared at the monster and saw that its huge, yellow eyes were fixated on Omar. It opened its long, tooth-filled snout and ran a thick red tongue over its fangs as it started forward, lifting one clawed foot and stepping toward the fallen man. Andy whistled and called, “Hey, asshole!”
People turned to look at him, surprised and startled. Some called out to him, others started forward, intent to stand by his side, but Andy was staring at the monster. “Hey!” he screamed again, speeding up to a jog. He was close now; all he had to do was get it to forget about Omar, and he had a good idea on how to do that. As the monster bunched its legs and prepared to jump, Andy exploded into a sprint, staring at the monster's long, hair-covered torso, eyeing a very vulnerable-looking spot on its side, right beneath its big, hairy shoulder.
The creature leaped, claws out, mouth wide, and Andy dove, too—spear leading the way.