Chapter 48: Gratitude
Tuesday, April 4th, 11:36 AM
Santa Cruz Municipal Wharf
Joe fought to keep his expression neutral as Trent led him down a series of stairs and walkways to the bottom of the mostly-empty number three cargo hold on board the container ship A-FBW. The stench of human waste wasn’t unlike what he’d encountered at Genomics, though here, it had a rusty, salty tang.
When they reached the bottom of the hold, Joe stepped into the first tent, and his mouth tightened at what he saw. A little girl looked up at him with despairing eyes as she pulled a loose fistful of hair away from her almost-bald head.
“Radiation sickness,” said Trent. “Most in here have it, and they’re our primary concern. Half the ship’s crew is upstairs, blind after seeing the bombs from offshore. Same with quite a few from the other vessels, but they can wait.”
“What’s your name?” Joe asked the child gently.
She shook her head and pointed at her neck.
“If Brenna talks, she’ll start coughing. Once it begins, her cough will go on, sometimes for hours,” Trent said helpfully.
“I’m Joe.” He kneeled and held out his hand.
When Brenna touched it with hers, Joe healed her. The child’s mouth fell open as her skin glowed with soft golden light. Brenna blinked hard a few times, then touched her throat, worked her mouth, and looked at Joe with wide eyes.
“Are you Jesus?” she mumbled softly as Joe stood up.
Joe wrinkled his brow. “No, sweetie. I’m just a man who can use healing magic. I’m here to help everyone if I can.”
Breathing hard, Brenna stumbled forward and grabbed the hem of Joe’s shirt, then said, “My sister…” She looked at Trent. “Mister Wiggett, is Erica still—”
Trent talked over her. “Yes, she’s still alive. This way, Joe.”
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Michael ran ahead, speaking briefly with a woman who stopped him before dashing off to help move the sick and wounded onto the wharf. Rihelah remained near the shore to collect a wooden crate full of clean towels and washcloths that Ciara provided.
[You don’t have to carry them, ‘bean. I’m depositing ten more crates like that inside the closest building.]
“It’s not heavy,” Rihelah replied.
A mid-thirties brunette with a sour smirk greeted Rihelah.
“What’s in the crate?” The woman’s hand rested on a pistol at her hip.
“Clean towels.” Rihelah tilted the box toward the woman. “I’m Rihelah Najibi, RN. Me and Michael are here with Joe Schimpf. He should be healing the ones who are worst off. I’m here to help treat the rest.”
“Ah, so you’re with Jesus the Hulk, too.” The woman relaxed.
Rihelah squeezed her eyes shut and snickered, then mused, “That’s a good one. He’ll hate it for sure.”
“Oh, he does. But after he touched my arm and I regained vision in my right eye, I’m an honest-to-God believer. Kathy’s the name. Let me help you with that.”
“No need. I’m stronger than I look.” Rihelah smiled.
Kathy raised her chin and stared down her nose at Rihelah. “Hah. I like you, even if your face pisses me off.”
Rihelah looked at her feet. “Sorry. I know I’m not much to look at,” she whispered.
“Oh, that’s fucking hilarious. Just when I thought we could be friends.” Kathy muttered. Her voice was cold.
Sniffling, Rihelah tried to smile through her tears as she asked, “Um are there any sick or wounded in the buildings, yet?”
“Whoa, now.” Kathy came close, leaning over the crate to stare at Rihelah.
“Your mother call you ugly or somethin’?” Kathy looked askance at Rihelah.
A wave crashed against the shore as Rihelah’s heart caved in.
Her bottom lip quivered, then she fell to her knees, sniffling as she set the crate aside and buried her face in her hands.
“Aw shit, Rye-uh… yeah. I didn’t mean—”
“You didn’t know,” Rihelah keened, unable to stop crying.
Kathy scrunched her brow and said, “Well, your mom was all kinds of wrong if she told you that. You’re the prettiest damned girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. That’s what pisses me off. Ol’ Kathy ain’t shit compared with you.”
Kathy touched Rihelah’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Usually, attractive girls think they’re above everyone else. I’ll be over here when you’re recovered.”
She walked to the railing and watched the surf.
After a few minutes, Rihelah collected herself and picked the crate up.
“Your name… uh, say it again?” Kathy asked as she approached.
“Rihelah. And don’t worry about it. My… looks have been a problem since I was little.” Rihelah did her best to smile.
“Unreal… Alright, Rihelah, I’ll take you to where the sickos are.” Kathy shook her head.
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The weather warmed, causing the snow to melt much faster. All creeks and rivers in the area were rising. I created a bridge over the end of Schwan Lagoon, to allow passage over the considerable outflow.
Several groups of students and denizens delved the first floor of my Dungeon, with a dire warning from Mike to avoid venturing past my tide pool cavern.
[I’ll hold Vijaya back for now, to avoid unnecessary casualties. You don’t have to worry, Mike.]
“Better to get these kids in the habit of respecting danger, than to baby them, Ciara. The world won’t be a safe place until we get a lot of things sorted out. Just the sight of Vijaya should be enough to send them packing.
[I’ll tell her to scare them without attacking, then.]
“That should do it,” said Mike.
I heard a familiar voice say yes, Daddy and it made me cringe almost as much as the scene I’d barged in on.
Steven had his head thrown back as he slammed Rachel from behind. There were two other women involved as well.
Ugh. Gross. Carnal pleasure is probably not the best way to deal with trauma, but at least they’re not hurting anyone and Steven isn’t hounding my Soybean.
Then I considered my behavior before my evolution.
I’m a hypocrite. Well, anyway, I hope more people will face reality soon.
Joy and Siobhán had pointed the crowd of students toward my Dungeon. Once they found out their friends were here, it wasn’t hard for my beans to convince them.
Afterward, those two beans headed for the UCSC campus to search for the five who’d stayed behind.
I’d almost finished hollowing out the space for my third floor, but then the One World Order’s armed mob veered off Highway 1 onto High Street—toward the university.
I saw red.
I can’t let them hurt those students.
[Soybean and Joybean, we have a problem. The One World Order’s mob is headed for the campus, and they’ll arrive in less than half an hour. Get up there and evacuate whoever you can. I’ll open an escape tunnel at the University’s farm for everyone.]
“Okay.” Joy’s lips drew in tight.
Siobhán said, “Got it, ProfCon. Nita, come!”
Nita erupted from an exit I’d made for her and skittered onto Siobhan’s chest to hang in her usual giant-necklace fashion.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Then Joy and Siobhán raced up Bay Street toward UCSC.
Devilflies that had shadowed the group swept in low to bite those at the rear of their crowd, approaching from behind to land softly against the backs of arms and necks. Their fangs pumped venom through exposed skin on contact, then my Devilflies retreated skyward, as fast as their wings could carry them.
Amid a chorus of surprised shouts, one of my winged minions was crushed against a man’s neck when his hand reached up too fast for it to escape.
The group of nearly seven hundred paused, and a few of their number pushed through the crowd to find out what was happening at their rear.
Taking advantage of the confusion, I had my Devilflies swoop from above to deliver a lethal dose of toxins to some at the front of the column. This time, I didn’t lose any minions, but word got around quickly, and the OWO crowd watched the sky.
By that time, the forty who’d been attacked first dropped to their knees, sat wavering, or keeled over entirely. The potent venom, delivered much deeper and in much higher volume than a typical Black Widow is capable of, was already taking effect.
A voice I recognized screamed near the front of the mob.
“It’s the Dungeon—I knew it! Mister Dunn, we must flee, before it’s—” Emmanuel’s panicked words were cut off when a large man’s fist knocked him unconscious.
“Carry that.” The man pointed at Emmanuel.
[Everyone, I’ve found Emmanuel Gonzales, your long-lost Gollum candidate. He’s with that One World Order mob.]
“Sonofabitch,” Mike and Joe swore, from separate locations.
One of the men holding Gonzales said, “It’s bad, Matt. A girl at the back is unconscious, and it sounds like dozens of us were bitten by those things.”
Matt scowled and said, “Fine. We keep moving. Except for this idiot,” Matt flicked Gonzales in the forehead, “anyone who can’t keep up can stay here. We’ll pick them up on the way back. Dungeon or not, we’ve got numbers and firepower. I want a tight formation with shotguns and flamethrowers on the outside. If those blue bugs return, exterminate them.”
Crap. How am I supposed to deal with fire? Maybe if my Devilflies could carry something heavy, like rocks, and drop those from above—oh! Monterey falcons.
My ten birds of prey took off from my second floor, then each picked up two golf ball-sized spheres of tungsten outside my castle before ascending above the ocean on a roundabout path to gain altitude.
When I returned my vision to the mob, they had indeed left their fallen behind. Since they were all unconscious or delirious, I had my Dire Widows crawl out to finish them off.
Ahead of the traitors, Canopy Crawlers were spinning a series of massive, hastily constructed webs between buildings that still stood along the enemy’s path.
To force them along an alternate route if they got past the webs, I dug a steep-sided trench eight meters deep and ten meters wide that bordered the entire western edge of Spring Street, then down to Harvey West Park from either end. It was expensive mana-wise and took almost ten minutes to complete, but effectively, I’d trapped them inside a large, triangular area.
Once my Dire widows finished killing the seventy-nine left behind, I absorbed those bodies along with their weapons.
Emmanuel spoke again, and I listened in.
“Mister Dunn, I—”
“Mouth shut and eyes open, Gonzales,” Matt scolded Emmanuel.
Emmanuel nodded without a word, his eyes staring at the ground as they walked. It struck me as odd until I realized he was staring directly at my minion tunnels.
He can tell where I’m digging. Crap.
[I think Emmanuel has a special ability of his own. He can tell where my tunnels are.]
“Oh, that’s just great. Next, you’re gonna tell me that little prick’s become a Dungeon.” Mike scowled.
That thought was harrowing. I had no idea how to fight one of my kind.
When the traitors encountered my webs, short blasts from their flamethrowers made quick work of those, and I fretted.
But it was worse than that. When they reached the edge of my trench, Matt called for the group to halt.
“Gonzales. Your Dungeon’s playing games with us. Fix it.” Matt pointed at the trench.
Hunching over with a deferential nod, Emmanuel came forward, placed his bare palms against the pavement, and grew a bridge for them out of stone.
The speed and precision of his ability were pitiful compared with mine, but he repurposed part of the stone I’d compressed along the trench’s edge, which was worrisome.
Because the humans were there, interfering with my ability to make changes, I was powerless to stop it.
[Soybean and Joybean, I have bad news…]
“Again?” they asked in unison as they searched the campus.
[Emmanuel can shape and manipulate stone.]
I gave them the details.
“Shit keeps stacking up,” said Mike, baring his teeth. He worked hard alongside Jeffrey and Todd to equip the next group who would delve into the first floor of my Dungeon.
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After healing the worst-off passengers of the fourth vessel, Joe was nearly spent—mentally and mana-wise.
“I’ll need a break for my magic to recover,” Joe told Trent as they stepped back onto the wharf.
“Ah, that’s understandable. You’ve healed close to a hundred people,” Trent replied. “So, is it like a game or something? Some kind of interface with stats?” Trent’s bright eyes looked hopeful.
“There’s a voice that speaks when you acquire a gift. Same one that told you about the Dungeon,” Joe said, staring toward the university.
“Ah, that’s all?” Trent scrunched his brow.
“Yeah. I’ll be back in an hour. There’s something I need to do.” Without waiting for Trent’s reply, Joe took off running toward shore.
That little bastard. After we spared him, he ran off and joined the damned traitors. Joe gritted his teeth as he stopped at the entrance to the wharf.
“Ciara, I need a rifle and ammunition.” He sat for a moment.
[Do you want a rifle or a bow like Mike’s? He’s made another for you with a quiver of arrows. He says its effective range is four clicks, whatever that means.]
Joe rubbed his chin. Probably not the best time to test something new, but four kilometers of range is insane. I should practice with that, and I don’t have to be careful with these targets.
“That’s fine. Just make sure I have a few dozen arrows,” Joe replied.
[Done. Oh, wow. It costs some mana to transport mana-infused items. Not a lot, but it’s a good thing I didn’t try to send a whole arsenal.]
A spring-steel and spider silk recurve bow larger than Mike’s appeared along with a hip quiver and a backpack holding more than a hundred arrows.
“Sonofa… that’ll do,” Joe muttered, grinning as he donned the quiver and backpack, then grabbed the bow and ran.
“Tell Mike thanks for me,” said Joe as he sprinted toward Bay Street.
[The One World Order is already on the campus, Joe. Siobhán and Joy have five evacuees in a new tunnel I made that runs down to Natural Bridges. I closed it up behind them, but Emmanuel is able to open my tunnels again.]
“I’m gonna skewer that little bastard,” Joe growled.
[He’s much too slow to catch them, but some of the traitors are pursuing those seven toward Natural Bridges. I’ll clear a path for you to shoot at the opening from atop the last remaining natural arch.]
“Roger that.” Joe altered course along California Avenue and headed for Natural Bridges.
[I strengthened the arch’s structure and added a natural-looking stone wall with an arrow slit. I’ll also restore the other natural bridge and extend the wall so you can fire from multiple positions if you want.]
“The shit you can do, Dungeon…” Joe chuckled as he turned onto Delaware Avenue.
[I’ll give you updates so you won’t accidentally shoot the wrong people. It looks like they’ll be out of the tunnel before you arrive.]
“That’s appreciated, but my eyes are sharp enough that I should be fine as long as I have a line of sight,” Joe replied.
A minute later, Joe turned down Swanton Boulevard to reach the overlook parking area for the actual Natural Bridges arch.
[Joybean and Soybean are leading the students out of the tunnel now. It’s right at the edge of the beach, where you climb that low hill to reach the visitor’s center and parking lot.]
“Roger that—I’ll be there in seconds.” Joe spotted them right after he’d finished speaking and waved his free hand.
Siobhán waved excitedly back, Joy gave him a muted princess wave, and the five female students following them looked ready to pass out from exhaustion.
[They already know what you’re doing, so they won’t stop.]
“Good. I don’t want them anywhere near while I hunt. How many are pursuing?”
[There are twenty with the first group inside the tunnel, including Emmanuel. But hundreds more are spread out inside that tunnel, all marching toward you from UCSC.]
“ETA on the first group?” asked Joe.
[E-T-what?]
“Estimated Time of Arrival. ETA—how long until they reach the tunnel entrance in front of me?” Joe asked as he slipped behind the wall Ciara had made over the arches.
[Oh. One minute, I think. I’ll alert you around ten seconds before they break through.]
“Perfect.” Joe drew his bow and aimed through the arrow slit at a burned eucalyptus stump on the hillside near the tunnel exit. When he let his arrow fly, there was a screaming sound followed by an explosion of dirt one foot above where he’d aimed.
“Fuck,” said Joe as he healed the inside of his left arm where the spider silk bowstring had torn his skin. He felt his mana drain to near empty.
[Ouch, that looked painful, Joe. What? Oh.]
“Gonna take some getting used to, but at least this thing’s powerful,” Joe muttered.
[Mike says to wear the spring steel armguard, Joe. It’s strapped to your backpack.]
“Oh.” Joe snorted, set the pack down, and retrieved the armguard, then slipped the elastic bands over his hand and up his arm. As he finished, Ciara said, [Ten seconds, Joe.]
“Oorah, Dungeon.” Joe grabbed an arrow from the quiver at his right hip and drew it back, aiming one foot below the center of the tunnel entrance.
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Floors: 2
Minions: 240/240
Residents: 12/12
Denizens: 75411
Traps: 6/10