Supper was duck meat pie stuffed with sliced carrots, celery, various herbs, and a white, gravy-like sauce that was unlike anything August had ever tasted. Beth had offered apple cider to wash it all down. Everyone but August and Belmont had politely refused it. Belmont drained hers in earnest, which led August to believe the drink would be no different than the multitude of Slupman fruit juices back home. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. The drink was sour, and it took everything to keep a straight face while chugging it down.
Beth’s son Alvis—the young blonde-haired cowboy who’d led them to Beth’s house—had joined them for supper. He’d swept the squad with a suspicious eye for the first half of the meal but eventually relaxed and even exchanged information with General Wolf.
“I’m still impressed y’all managed to make it here in relative peace,” Alvis said. “Safe strolls in the wilderness are rare. I guess those fancy weapons and that shiny armor help.”
“It was far from a safe stroll,” Sterling said with some bite in his voice.
Alvis eyed him, but Wolf spoke before anything could come of it. “We’re quite familiar with the dangers of the wilderness, I’m afraid. Getting here was no easy feat.”
“What did you encounter?” Alvis asked, reluctantly breaking the staring contest with the exterminator.
“Dolorium,” Wolf said.
“I could have guessed that much,” Alvis said.
“Let our guests speak, Dear,” Beth said.
“Yeah, Dear,” Sterling said in a mocking tone. “Besides, it was more than just dolo. On top of the usual flying beasts we’re all familiar with, we were also attacked by a horde of caraperium at an old fueling station.” He leaned over the table for dramatic effect as he awaited the reaction of their hosts. None came.
“Those fancy egg terms won’t work out here,” Alvis said. “The only reason I understand the word ‘dolo’ is from hearing them in your movies.” He looked to Dalton West, who’d been quiet throughout the meal, and smirked. “Thanks to you, I guess.”
The old sniper nodded without looking up from his plate.
“What do you call them?” Rosek asked.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Alvis regarded her and shrugged. “Bugs.”
“We don’t feel they deserve a proper name,” Beth said. “Bugs does just fine.”
“In any case,” Wolf said. “Caraperium are the flightless ones with the single horn on their head.”
Alvis’ mouth fell open for a moment. “And you’re telling me y’all fought off a swarm of those bastards?”
“Language, Alvis,” Beth said. “We have guests.”
The young cowboy ignored her and stared at Wolf, awaiting a response.
The general nodded. “Indeed, we did.”
Alvis clapped his hands once and leaned back in his chair. He let out a quick chuckle as Beth jumped from the sudden noise. “No way. That’s impossible. I don’t care what kind of armor or firepower you’ve got. A swarm of those things could take out anyone.”
“We aren’t just anyone,” Sterling said with the familiar smirk that some might call arrogant. “We are Leon City’s most elite collection of soldiers. Maybe the most decorated outfit ever put together, except for the kid there,” he nodded toward August.
“It wasn’t as easy as Colonel Sterling is making it sound,” Wolf said. “I acquired this in the process,” he unclipped the front of his armor and pulled his undershirt down to expose the bandaged wound where the dolo stinger had gone clean through. Beth winced and looked away while Alvis gazed and pursed his lips. “That’s not all,” Wolf let his shirt spring back up and redid the clasps of his protective vest. “Another soldier got his arm crushed by debris. And that fails to mention all the scrapes, bruises, and whatnot.”
Alvis scanned the table. “The arm must’ve healed pretty quickly. I don’t see any injuries.”
The squad shared an awkward collective shift. Wolf spoke. “We set out with seven. Our engineer broke for home a couple of nights ago. Left at night while he was keeping watch.”
“I doubt he made it far alone,” Alvis said. “Considering his broken arm and all.”
“You never know,” Beth said. “Miracles do happen.”
“Speaking of miracles,” Alvis said, “do you think you guys can find my pa?”
Beth tapped her son’s forearm with minimal force. “That’s rude, Alvis. We don’t go asking strangers for something like that.”
“Why not?” Alvis said. “What are the odds that a non-hostile group of soldiers would arrive from the egg just a couple weeks after Pa goes missing?” He looked around the table with desperate eyes. “It’s meant to be, right?”
“I doubt Colonel Slupman had much to worry about if I’m honest,” Wolf said, absent-mindedly.
“What do you mean?” Beth asked.
Wolf snapped from his minor dreamlike state and shook his head dismissively. “Nothing. He’s well-connected.” He looked at Alvis, “as for your father, I’m sorry. Our mission is to destroy the nest. If your father happens to be there we will save him and escort him home, and perhaps—depending how the mission plays out—we will help you find your father afterward.”
Silence reigned for a long moment.
“So, what can you tell us about what we should expect in the coming days out west?” Wolf asked.
Beth raised two hands. “Nope. We aren’t talking about this stuff at supper time anymore. We should be chattin’ about pleasant things—mundane things, at the very least. I’ve allowed this conversation to go on sour long enough. If you’re gonna talk about anything, let it be uplifting and optimistic.”
The rest of the meal passed in silence.