He couldn’t figure Lyre out.
Everything she did felt planned, purposeful, careful and exact. Like at all times she was working towards a greater goal, but it was never even remotely clear until it had already been accomplished through an incredibly unlikely series of events. And while her actions felt deliberate, her frequent inaction was just fucking weird. He’d ask her a question and it would take ten minutes for her to respond if he was lucky. If he wasn’t she just wouldn’t say anything. And it wasn’t as though he was asking something difficult or sensitive all the time; at one point he had asked “Are you going to stop for lunch?” and it took her nearly fifteen minutes to say “No”.
It was like she was a supercomputer trying to run on a potato battery.
For example, how she was walking. She could go faster than she was walking now, he’d seen it, but as it was she was going at his top speed. He could barely keep up, and any sane person would see that he was struggling and slow down a bit, but she didn’t. She’d stop for exactly three and a half seconds, and then he’d stumble a bit and it would take him, you guessed it, three and a half seconds to get his footing back. Somehow, she knew what would happen, and timed things with enough precision that zero time was wasted.
It was really, really creepy. Lyre was creepy, and maybe he wasn’t one to talk, but he was just calling it like he saw it.
A hand grabbed his shoulder, forcing him backwards. The shove was light enough that he could have resisted if he had been prepared, but it caught him off guard enough that he ended up on his ass in the sand.
“Lyre, what the hell?”
His only response was Lyre’s signature ‘on several hallucinogens and also heroin’ stare, so he looked around to see-
Ah. There was a ravine in front of them. About a foot and a half wide, and deep enough that he couldn’t see the bottom. Lyre did this a lot. Instead of warning him like a normal person, she’d just wait till the very last second and then forcefully yank him away from whatever environmental hazard was there.
“You know, you’re allowed to warn me in advance.”
And she was gone. Halfway through his sentence, she’d started climbing down the sandstone cliff, completely ignoring him. He could wait here for her to return, but this area was exposed and drones could be passing by. He could climb down after her, but his hand was injured. They’d run out of bandages, so the one he was wearing hadn’t been changed for over 24 hours, and it was wet and crusty. He could slip.
The ravine was narrow enough that he could probably brace himself against the walls as he climbed down, taking some of the stress off his hand. Plus, he didn’t entirely trust Lyre. He was following her because she was his best lead, but he was still highly suspicious of her motives, and didn’t want to let her out of his sight.
Spike sat down, and carefully slid into the ravine, hands and feet braced against the sides.
Immediately, he felt the wall against his back shift and soften, sand showering down into his hair. Shit. He should have thought of this! Digging his limbs in a bit more, he managed to keep himself from falling, but now that portion was just a bit wider and smoother than the rest.
This was too dangerous.
Looking down, the bottom was closer than he’d initially thought, about 14 feet down, and Lyre was around the halfway point directly below him. He’d showered sand onto her, which was probably unhelpful, and if he fell, he’d probably injure them both. He couldn’t keep descending, so he looked up, to see if he could climb back out.
The edge of the ravine was just out of his reach, now. He had a feeling that if he tried reaching up, he’d slip and fall. He really was the dumbest motherfucker to breathe air, wasn’t he? Although, looking back at some of the stunts him and his friends had done, that wasn’t anything new.
He didn’t want to think about that right now. It was making his head hurt a little.
“My grip’s not stable. I need you to get out of my way or I might fall on you,” Spike called down.
No response. Fucking hell. At least Lyre was close to the bottom now. Alright, maybe he could hold his position until she was out of the way, and then climb down. That way, he’d be the only one potentially getting injured if he fell.
He managed to hold on, barely. At one point, his foot slipped, sending a light rain of sand down on Lyre. He had to quickly jam it into another foothold before the rest of his limbs started sliding, which he managed by some miracle, and then Lyre was out of the way and he could start heading down.
As soon as he moved his bandaged hand, he started sliding, rather quickly, skin and clothing scraping against the sand. He hit the bottom with a thud, and was immediately back on his feet, checking for injuries as chunks of sand fell around him. One hit his shoulder, exploding into dust upon contact,
First, he patted down his lower body, checking for any signs of breaks or sprains. When that turned up with nothing, stripped off a glove and felt around where he’d scraped against the sand. A portion of his back about the size of his hand felt sticky and wet, which was definitely bad, but given the circumstances, things could have gone much worse. He’d have to bandage that at the first opportunity.
He looked around for Lyre, and she was gone, because of fucking course she was. He could shout for her, but who knows what was down here.
“Lyre? Where are you?” On second thought, he didn’t actually care. If he got eaten, he got eaten, and she’d probably kill anything here with her shirt or something equally stupid anyways.
No immediate response, which was normal, so he waited. About a minute or two later, he heard, “In the tunnel.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Which was incredibly vague, but he could tell where the sound came from, so he just started walking over there. His hoodie stuck to his back uncomfortably, unsticking and resticking a bit as he walked. There was… a tiny gap. To call it a tunnel was really giving it far too much credit. He could fit, but it would be very tight. It had probably been tight for her as well.
Good thing Spike wasn’t claustrophobic. He drew his knife, just in case, and edged into the gap sideways. Sand rubbed against his chest and back as he shuffled inwards. It was dark, and by dark, he meant he could not see a single goddamn thing. Why, Lyre? Why had she gone in here without so much as a candle to light her way? After a little while, the space opened up, air warm and still. He shuffled forwards, knife held out, hand waving in front of him to check for obstacles.
A hand brushed against a smooth metal surface.
Instinctively, he flung himself backwards, falling onto his hands. Scrambling backwards- the gap, find the exit- he bumped into a solid sandstone wall. Frantically patting at it, the exit was nowhere to be felt. Get out, he needed to keep moving, but what if there were more? His grip on the knife was tight enough that he felt the rubber layer on the hilt deforming, as he sat shaking by the wall.
If he could see, he’d be able to escape, be able to defend himself, but as it is, anything could attack him and he was helpless to stop it, there was absolutely nothing he could do to save himself. His voice had shrivelled up and died in his throat, and all he could do was hold the knife out in the blind blackness.
This is the end the end the end sharp metal shards stabbing piercing rusty death slit your throat disembowel blood and intestines spilling out the smell of piss and shit cut your arms and legs cant run cant fight back fill you like a goddamn pincushion dead and rotting and no one will find your corpse among the discarded broken things youll never see it coming you wont know until its far far too late until rusty blades have bled out and dissembled never see mom dad dog friends teachers crush neighbour shrapnel in your lungs in your heart kidneys liver everything leaking acid and bile and
“Spike, come.”
Lyre Lyre was here she was calling him she was okay maybe he’d be okay if he moved. Trust her. Trust her like before and she’d get them through life before. She’d fought metal and she’d won before he’d helped a bit but she’d done it.
He tried to stand. Too unsteady, twitching and shaking, and he fell. He started crawling, knife still in hand, his fingernails had torn the rubber hilt and he looked frantically through the darkness and there was light, dim and shadows everywhere but he could see. Disused broken metal shells dusty but clean, no rust no rust he was okay, Lyre was there crosslegged on the floor, she wasn’t hurt, no metal embedded in her skin. She had a headlight, dim and flickering, and she was dissembling a bot.
Don’t show weakness.
He stood, nearly fell, and then was upright. The metal hunks flickered around him, it reminded him- a twinge of pain went through his skull and he looked away, walking to Lyre, hoping his steps looked more sure than they felt.
This was fine. He was totally fine, they were just chunks of garbage. He wasn’t afraid of these junk heaps, that would just be stupid. He’d been startled because he hadn’t expected to find anything down here, and he was shaking from leftover adrenaline from the fall.
The thing Lyre had taken apart was still pretty intact, but the pile she was making was big. Maybe she was hollowing it out.
“Why are you collecting this stuff? Tell me specifically, don’t just say ‘for the plan’. Tell me what exactly you are using it for.” He’d learned how to word questions in a way she’d understand, mostly. It took her longer to answer, but he rarely had to ask twice. As he waited for a response, he sat down next to her, closing his eyes. Just because he wanted to rest them, not because he wanted to avoid looking at anything.
“It’s protective gear. The plan needs it so we can go faster.” As soon as she finished talking, his knife was yanked out of his grip and his eyes flew open. He relaxed once he saw it was just Lyre, using it to hack at one of the bot’s limbs.
Protective gear? It didn’t look tough. Something rubbery or plasticky. Not to protect against sharp force, and using metal as well would work better for blunt. Maybe a chemical defence, to guard against acid or something similar.
“What will it protect us from?”
“It protects against heat.” Lyre’s voice, the reminder that there was someone beside him and he wasn’t alone down here was nice. It didn’t reassure him, because he was fine and nothing needed reassuring. It was nice, and that was all.
Insulation, then. They’d be going somewhere extremely hot. There was a crack as Lyre pried the arm free and dug out a capsule, spreading a viscous fluid over the edges of the pieces and sticking them together.
If he helped, they’d be out of this shithole quicker. “Can I help? If so, tell me what I should do.”
“Put the sealant on the pieces to make gloves and footwear and two harnesses. It needs to cover the entire extremity halfway up to the forearm and shin but also have good grip. The harness has to fit securely.” As she talked, Lyre put down the piece she was working on, sawing at another arm. That knife would be wrecked pretty soon.
Alright. He wasn’t an arts-and-crafts sort of person, but he’d put enough shit together in shop class that he could probably muddle his way through. The fluid was the sealant, looked like. He was worried he’d need another blade to cut stuff up, but luckily, the pieces Lyre had piled up were already the right size.
The end products were ugly as shit, and he wasted some materials making them, but they didn’t distort or break when he yanked on them and the harnesses fit snugly. Well, his fit him snugly. He’d had to eyeball it for Lyre, and made hers a bit smaller than his. Hopefully it would work. Some of the pieces had torn off in a way that there were ridges and crevices, so he’d used those for the palms and soles to ensure good traction.
“Will this harness fit you like it needs to?” Spike held his mutated creation up so Lyre could inspect it.
“Yes.” Lyre had two identical robot arms now. She snatched the harnesses, and began using the resin to attach one arm to each. Part of each arm had clearly been messed with, although Spike couldn’t tell exactly how.
God damn it, would he have to wear the robot arm on his harness? That was… inconvenient. It would keep tapping against him as he walked or climbed. Not like that was particularly stressful or anything, but it would be annoying.
Once Lyre was done attaching the arms, she held one harness out with one arm, grabbing his head and turning it until he was looking at the tampered portion. There was a button or something there, looked like.
“Don’t do that. If you want to show me something-”
“Press the button to turn the magnet on or off. Move the switch to move the arm around.” And of course she talked right over him, because Lyre.
Why did he need a magnet robot arm, exactly? He took a closer look at the button and lever, trying to discern how exactly she’d hooked this up. All he discovered was that he did not know enough about electronics to understand it. Lyre had put on her harness, so he followed suit, the arm resting against his hip.
“I’m sorry. I won’t do it anymore. What should I do instead?”
“Good.” Maybe now she’d respect his autonomy and personal space. Who was he kidding, of course she wouldn’t, but at least she wouldn’t do that exact thing again. Better than nothing. “If you want to show me something, point at it and hold it so I can see. Don’t grab me.”
“Okay.”
“Are we done here? Can we leave this godforsaken shithole?” Most of the back of his hoodie was damp and sticky now. He really hoped they found some bandages or something soon.
“Yes.”
Thank fucking god.
With the headlight, it was pretty easy to find their way back out through the gap. Sunlight stabbed down as Lyre started climbing, one hand at the controls and the robot arm aiding her climb. Looked easy.
He reached over, wiggling the lever a bit to test before he started climbing. The arm swung out to the side, way more than he intended, and forwards, way less than he intended. The two dimensions of movement were clearly not proportional. It probably wasn’t Lyre’s fault, she’d rigged a working robot arm from scrap so of course it wasn’t perfect. Still inconvenient.
He had to practise for a few minutes, getting a feel for how it responded, before he felt comfortable enough to start climbing. It was a bit better for climbing than his hands alone, he could dig it into the sand for a more secure grip, but it took a lot of concentration.
He made it up without any more slips and falls, crawling a couple feet away, then looked up.
Hands up, he shoved Lyre away. She’d backed up just enough that she didn’t fall, and luckily there was enough counterbalancing force that he didn’t fall on his face like an idiot. Why was she so close? What reason did she have to be hovering two inches from his face?
You know, a lot of his questions nowadays could be answered with, ‘because it’s Lyre and Lyre is fucking weird’. He could have told her off, asked her not to get so close next time, but at this point he was tired enough that he didn’t want to pick that particular battle now. He’d say something later.
By the time he stood, she was running away.
Son of a bitch, not this again, Spike thought, taking off after her.