The afternoon follows the pattern established in the morning. By the time we pitch camp at sunset, we’ve hiked nearly twenty kilometers. Hot and drenched in sweat, I’m anticipating the cooler presence of the moon. A moon seen from outside the shield dome is a special treat.
“That’s it for the day’s official duties.” Gronk lies on a bed of pine needles and props his head on his helmet. “I suppose you’re free to enjoy the rest of the evening in what ever manner you see fit, as long as you don’t go anywhere or make too much noise.” He laughs to himself, then ads, “You kids still play toggle at the academy?”
“Yes, sir,” Cera responds. She seems the most enamored with our talkative host.
I realize I haven’t seen Chechen since we cracked out rations thirty minutes earlier. Standing up to stretch, I locate the surly ometeotl thirty meters through the forest. He’s striding toward us and still in full armor.
I watch him approach without directly staring. The sun has sunk beneath the treetops, but as Chechen passes beneath a gap in the canopy, the fading orange light creates a glare on his face shield. As a result he appears more like a walking suit of armor than a man.
For the dozenth time since seeing the suits that morning, I wish I could try one on. The material looks like a hybrid between plasteel and foamed alloy. Whatever they’re made from, they wear like cloth and look like rubber. But I bet they’re mostly air. In a telekinetic attack they must filter a large portion of the EM spectrum.
“Oh, and make sure you don’t leave any crumbs about,” Gronk continues his chatter. “I’d rather not be visited by any Jaguars or coyotes or the like. You know, if we can avoid it.”
Chechen arrives at the small clearing where the rest of us have reclined. “I’m afraid I’ve spotted evidence of more than just wild animals in the area.”
“Really?” Gronk bolts upright, his helmet in his hands. “How many?”
“Two or three. It’s been so dry and still lately, it’s hard to tell whether the tracks were left today or a few days ago.”
“I can take a look at them,” Cera offers. “My parents are hunters. I grew up tracking things.”
Gronk stands and dons his helmet. “Sweet of you to offer, Cera. But our instructions are to keep you guys out of harm’s way if at all possible. I doubt our superiors would think—”
Chechen slams his arm into Gronk’s stomach, cutting him off. Everyone falls perfectly still. “Listen,” Chechen whispers.
Before Gronk has time to acknowledge that he has heard it too, a probe streaks overhead. It alters course suddenly. We all know what’s coming next, but there’s no time to counter it.
The sky splits as an EM pulse strikes the center of our camp. Flipped over backwards by the wash, I land on hands and knees, ready to dash for the shelter of the forest. But I’m not sure of which direction to run.
“Go!” Neca half collides with me and half scoops me up.
Together we scramble for fifty meters through the thickest part of the forest before dropping flat on our stomachs and straining our ears.
It takes several seconds for me to control my breathing enough to hear anything other than myself. “Did you see the others?”
Neca listens quietly for several more seconds before responding, “The initial pulse didn’t hit anyone directly. After that, I don’t know.”
In the distance another EM pulse sizzles through the forest canopy. “Come on,” I grab for his hand, “we’ve gotta find a way to disable it before its controllers get here.” I try to pull him up, but he resists.
“That’s the thing. I’m not so sure the controllers aren’t here already.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask. “Come on.” Another pulse collides with a tree near the campsite. I hear the trunk splinter and crack seconds later. “Someone could get killed.” I tug on him more urgently.
He yanks me down beside him. I’m about to argue further when I hear a second probe buzz past, several meters above the forest canopy. I tilt my head in time to see its blinking red eye zip out of site toward our campsite. “Now can we go?” I ask.
Neca relents, “Okay, we’ll check on the others.” We rise together and move as quickly and silently as possible. “But I don’t like it. Something doesn’t feel right. Did you notice Chechen stop at the sled before he left?”
“So?” I’m irritated Neca finds this significant enough to discuss in the midst of our current situation.
“I think he took something out of it.”
“You mean they brought equipment they planned to use? Shocker.” I slash at him with an angry hand. “Now shut up, before you get us killed.”
“Fine,” Neca huffs. “Do you have a plan, or should we just jump out and scare the probes?”
I swing a leg over a fallen tree trunk and spin into a creeping run. Neca matches me stride for stride, our feet falling at the same time to create the least possible noise. I say, “How about we charge the closest probe as soon as it targets something in the opposite direction, and then we stun it?”
“Not the brilliant master plan I expected, but it works for me.”
I make a mental note to slap him later. “You flank it on the right. I’ll aim left. That way, one of us should hit it.” The small clearing where our camp had been is now three times the size and scarred with EM burns. We crouch several meters shy of it and watch. I’m so busy looking up, I fail to notice Cera and Yetic across the way.
Neca points them out, “There, see them?”
I follow his finger and nod. “Where’s Olin?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking him that?”
“Oh, right.” I make a mental note to slap myself after I slap Neca. Before I get the chance to connect with my brother, a blue flare shoots skyward at our nine o’clock, thirty meters from the clearing. It’s got to be Olin.
Finally, I hail him. Lead the probe across the campsite and keep running.
And share the fun? He responds immediately.
Quit joking and do it.
Fine. I wondered where you guys went.
As his blue pulses grow closer, I can tell he’s throwing them up blind while choosing his footing through the forest. Luckily, or possibly by design, Olin has chosen a dense enough route that the probe is struggling to gain a clear line of site.
Instead it slashes bolts of energy through the tree limbs as blindly as Olin fires back. Neither come within meters of a kill shot. Almost there. I reassure him, or maybe I’m reassuring myself. Just don’t stop. We’ll ambush the thing as it passes overhead.
Sure thing, sis.
I wave my hands to get Yetic and Cera’s attention. There’s still enough light for them to see me, and Yetic waves in response. I point in Olin’s direction. Neca and I creep that way while remaining tucked beneath the forest canopy.
Ready or not, here I come! Olin bounds into the open. Turning and throwing up both hands, he launches a final blinding beam of EM before sprinting full bore for the opposite side of the clearing.
“Now!” I shout the command and pounce into the open.
Neca follows right beside me. Yetic and Cera do the same across the way.
Responding to my voice, the probe spins its eye in my direction first.
Neca and I pound the sky with two bright EM flares.
The probe dodges, only to fly directly into a storm unleashed by Yetic. In a dazzling display of sparks, the probe spins erratically into the top of a nearby tree and pinballs its way to the forest floor with a thud.
A second later a branch cracks at my nine o’clock. I jerk toward it and kindle a green glow in the palm of my hand.
“Nice shooting!” Gronk emerges into the clearing while spinning the second probe on a finger.
Chechen is right beside him. Their suits render them nearly invisible in the twilight.
Gronk tosses his probe to Chechen before jogging into the forest to fetch the second one. He returns at the same time as my brother. “You guys are solid for sure. Olin had the totoltetls to draw off the second probe while Chech and I were hammering the first.”
Gronk removes his helmet. I’m sure he’s smiling, but it’s too dark to tell. “Lucky for us, it looks like these buggers were operating at long range. Whoever the operators were, and we’ll have to take the probes back to command to be sure, I don’t think we need to worry about running into—”
Gronk stops in mid-sentence. His head tilts slightly to the side. For a long second nothing else happens.
I sniff the air and a familiar smell sends ripples up and down my spine. Chechen’s suit pitches forward and strikes Gronk in the back. The jostling unravels the final allusion of life as the silhouette of Gronk’s head dissipates in the breeze.
Without warning, without the slightest flicker of light or crackle of EM energy, both of the ometeotls are gone—nothing left but empty suits of armor.
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