Newfoundland: 86 PA
"Get those cows back in the barn," yelled Jarna at her brother, the thick headed teen had opened up the barn and the cows were making a bee line for the fields. "We haven't milked them yet and the sun isn't even up, the frost on the field still hasn't melted."
But excited cows are hard to still and every passing second more joined the first ones out. He grabbed the lead by the horn and tried to tug it to a stop but the bovine battering ram plodded on heedless of the boy's efforts. The cattle were picking up speed and the end of the run before the field was fast approaching. Just before the lead cow breached into the fields the gate slid down and blocked the animal from escape. With no way forward and more of her sisters piling up behind, the cow turned left and ambled down the other paddock back to the barn. The others, unsure of what to do followed, leaving a tired and embarrassed teen to stare up at his father.
"I'm sorry, fodur." He said, sheepishly as he clambered over the fence. "Thank you for closing the gate."
"If you slow down and think Ulrich, I wouldn't have had to. I know you are excited to be learning how to be a field guard, but you have chores still to do first before training begins." He swatted the boy lightly on the rump, "now help your sister muck out the milking stalls so we don't get crap in the milk."
The boy ran into the barn past Jarna as her Father approached. "I don't know why he is so excited to learn what just amounts to sitting there holding a rifle." She said to him exasperated.
"It's the warrior in young boys. It's more about showing off than anything." He replied.
"To who?" She countered. "There's not a girl around for a hundred miles that isn't some level of kin. We're dwindling fodur, when I was a girl our family was fifty strong plus three more farms around us, pulling together. When the Murphrys were taken last year that left just us, and now we are but a dozen. And without modur, we're dying out." She wiped a tear from her eye at the mention of her mother. "We should go, find more people and leave this gods forsaken patch of earth to the fairies and monsters."
"This is our land girl!" her father shouted, "our family has worked this land for hundreds of years. No one is driving us off it." He finished in a low tone, red faced and panting.
"Then it will die with us, when the last one passes away old and unmarried without children to carry on." She stared daggers into the old man's eyes.
"You're right, Jarna." The man sighed after a moment of silence between them stretched too far, "but no one has been outside the fjords since my grandfather's day. We don't know if there are other people left, or where to find them if they exist." He wrapped his arms around his daughter in a hug. "Aye we may be on a boat to our end, but this boat has no oars. We may not be able to change that course now."
The two held onto each other in despair, until the sounds of laser fire drew their attention. "Is that the perimeter guns?" Asked a frightened Jarna.
"Aye," her father, as his radio crackled to life.
"It's a slaver barge, uncle!" Came the shout over the static, "we've been spotted, but get everyone else to…." The message ended following a large explosion across pasture.
"Get everyone to the shelter!" Shouted Fodur, as he ran to the heavy equipment shed.
"Where are you going?" She shouted as he rounded and made his way to the heavily armored shed.
"To buy you all some time!" Was the reply.
Jarna ran to the milk barn, her cousins and brother were still inside, and unlikely to hear the alarm bell over the sound of restless cows.
The old man slid open the heavy door allowing the first light of dawn to illuminate the heavy labor mech. He opened the cockpit and climbed inside, throwing switches and pressing buttons before he even managed to sit down. The machine roared to life as its nuclear power source got up to speed. As he buckled in, he shoved a lever forward that dropped the plow attachment from the servo arms to the ground. With the skill of decades behind the controls of the agromech, he swung it over to the tool rack linking the wrists to the jury rigged heavy laser attachments his brother had built from a ruined perimeter autogun years ago. The laser weapons thrummed as the powercore linked and energized them. The old man walked the ten ton mech out from the shed to the sight of the saucer-like alien barge hovering over the cow pasture already. The eyeless monster built in the center of the disc licked a long slimy tongue over its needle-like teeth. Its muscular arms grasping a tall, eyeball topped staff as dozens of tentacles whipped about behind its back. It howled in delight at the potential carnage as what looked like nearly naked human women walked around the perimeter of the disc wielding alien devices of death or capture. Their eyes obscured behind opaque visors. Dozens of orbs like glass jars holding giant eyeballs floated around, scouting for the monster and his blind warriors.
The old man charged up his guns and opened fire on the orbs, hoping to draw the monster's attention, and set his mech running full speed toward the slave barge.
Jarna reached the barn to the cows already whipped up into an absolute tizzy. Her cousins were huddled into a corner in a frozen panic.
Jarna ran up to the younger girls, "get to the shelter! Go, go!" She pushed on the girls and pulled them up by their arms until they were finally running from the barn. "Ulrich!" She screamed, the boy still unseen.
"Here," came the cry from the back of the barn.
She found her brother on the ground at the back of one of the milking pens. His foot was pinched in the fence where the cows had slammed into the metal twisting it around his ankle. Jarna pulled on his leg, but only produced cries of pain from her brother. She looked about until she found a pry bar, but there was nowhere to put it with enough purchase on this side without breaking Ulrich's ankle. Quickly she hopped the fence and found a spot by the post to yank on the bar. The fence groaned as the metal bent and released the boy's leg.
"Go get to the shelter!" She shouted as he limped from the pen.
She was climbing the fence when suddenly the cows surged again slamming into her and flinging her head first into a post.
The world tilted and spun when she awoke. The barn and the cows blurred in and out of her vision. Her right eye stung, a touch of her fingers discovered it was from the blood that trickled down from her temple. Jarna stood, stumbling along the fence and made her way to the doors. Fires burned across the farm. She ran immediately to the shelter and fell to her knees, the doors were wide open. She scrambled inside to find it empty, the shelves had been knocked over, their supplies scattered. Jarna ran to the house and found it empty, she checked every out-building and finally ran out into the field. Her uncle and four of her cousins lay dead in the field. She saw the smoldering ruin of the agromech, and found the still form of her father staring up at the sky, still grasping the controls. The canopy had been shattered, and the glass had pierced him in several places.
Two uncles and her great aunt lie in the field around the mech, weapons and armor shattered. They had fought as hard as they could, but in the end they were over matched. As the sun set behind the trees, Jarna knelt in the field and wept for her fallen and missing family. She cried in the field as probably the last of her kin, she was alone, cursing the gods of her ancestors that had forsaken her.
Where are you? Why did you abandon us? She screamed in her head.
As Jarna sobbed she became aware of the chittering noise. The first of them stalked out from the treeline, one leg at a time in slow motion, until all eight chitinous legs stood in the field. Mandibles beneath multiple black eyes wiggled, tasting the blood in the air before it let out a screech. It barreled forward as a dozen creatures like it followed. They tore into the bodies of her family as they crossed the field, limbs and blood flying. Jarna was forced to squeeze in between the torso and arm of the machine as one reached the cockpit and her grandfather. As it tore into his body, blood ran down atop her forcing her to gasp. The creature stopped and chittered as it slowly looked over the machine. Jarna covered her mouth and tried to control her sobs of fear and despair. She was alone, unarmed and there were so many of these things. She realized this is how her family ended. The noise from the beast stopped, and its dead eyes stared directly at her hiding spot. She screamed unintentionally as it lurched at her, the mandibles like a hand around its mouth grasping at her. Its mass moved the mech's arm out with every lunge, allowing it to snap closer and closer to her each time. As its dripping mouth closed less than an inch from her the monster suddenly disappeared with a squeal. A wet thump behind the machine set the others to screeching.
By the time Jarna climbed out from inside the mechanisms, half the creatures lay smashed and torn apart. Her family was always larger than most. Tall, broad men and women that dwarfed many of their neighbors, but the man who stood in the field surrounded by these monsters would make them feel short. He rippled with obvious muscle as he wore boots and braided leather pants and little else in this chill spring air. Long blonde hair filled with random braids spilled down his back.
A spider creature bit down on an arm only to be smote by his free hand, spaying goo and shell from the exploding head. The man flicked it away without care like he had simply spilled mead down his arm, and drove a fist into the next. The blow sent it across the field to splatter against the trees. A quick hop to the side as another tried to pounce gave him the opening to drive both fists down on it. With a loud crack, the beast was instantly still. He moved, no he danced among them, slaying them with ease, and laughed with a smile on his face the whole time, like this was all but a game to him. When all the monsters were killed he approached the destroyed agro-mech and looked down at Jarna, "your heart called, and I answered." His voice boomed, deep and hearty. He took her hand between two of his fingers and helped her out from the tangled machinery. He aided her in burning her family, moved the machine out of the field and helped her repair her home. He stayed with her for the remainder of the season. He sowed the field, planted the crops, and tended the animals. He stayed with her through the nights, destroyed every threat that arose, and kept her heart warm. He was big and strong, cheerful and handsome in ways Jarna could not resist.
He brought in wayward cattle under his arm to return to the barn and when the crop was ripe, he brought in the harvest. And when she had enough supplies to last her several years he left. One morning he was gone, no word, no explanation, he disappeared into the wind like he arrived. It would have been like he was never there if he had not left her a gift.
In the dead of winter she screamed, wrapped in blankets, clutching her belly. Sweat poured off of Jarna as each of the contractions came. She cried alone and fearful of what would happen if anything went wrong.
"Bastard couldn't stick around at least till now?" She said through gritted teeth as the pain ebbed once more.
"He is a man," said the voice in the dark, that almost caused Jarna to leap from the bed. A woman stepped from the shadows, tall and dressed in browns and greens of old norse styling, with a cape blue as the sky. She was beautiful, mature but not old, vibrant red hair cascaded down her shoulders and she looked at Jarna with piercing eyes as blue as her cape. And like her savior before this woman was tall, a full half a head above Jarna herself, "Also my grandson is still a boy in many ways. He felt your need and leapt at the chance for adventure once again." The woman stepped up to the bed and placed a hand on Jarna's belly. "He is strong, like his father, there will be no problem in his birth. We must see that you survive though, to raise him right." The lady moved quickly about the house, gathering instruments, herbs and supplies as if she had lived there her whole life. She washed Jarna and wrapped her, rubbed herbs on her belly and womanhood. When the contractions came the matron placed a hand on the side of her head and made a shushing sound that took the edge off the pain like magic. She moved her legs and pushed on her womb with expertise to put the baby in position to breach. She told Jarna when to push ahead of the pain like she knew Jarna's body better than her.
The woman pulled and the child came out with a scream, long and strong and loud. The mysterious midwife swaddled the child, cut and tied the cord swiftly with one hand. The child was placed on Jarna's chest and her nightshirt unbuttoned so the boy could feed. The woman massaged out the afterbirth and treated her bleeds, "have you thought of a name for him?"
"I've always liked Eric." Jarna said weakly.
"Eric Magnison," the woman rolled it over on her tongue thoughtfully as she worked, "a good strong name. Magic has returned to this world, the old paths are open to us again. But belief in us has all but disappeared, and travel is difficult. But your family still held to the traditions, you had enough belief for my grandson to hear your desperation and leap to your defense. But we are still stuck in the old ways, doing things for our own glory. But my great grandson will be a true force for change."
It finally dawned on Jarna who this woman was. The gods were real. And they had listened.The woman stood when she finished, "you hold in your hands the future. For you and for us." She backed away from the bed back into the shadows, as her form and voice faded into the darkness, "keep him safe. Especially should my husband's brother find him."
Kansas Territory: 109 PA
"That's the story my mother told me of how I came to be." Eric said as he finished.
The group was silent until Tom spoke up. "All this talk of gods. If things weren't bad enough with monsters, are we now doomed to suffer battles between pantheons?"
"So what happened to your mother?" Asked Moly, interrupting Tom's less than polite response. She gave him a light nudge to the ribs with her elbow.
"Ma got sick, shortly after I turned eight." Eric began. "She called out in the night for the woman who midwifed me, but she never returned. And when she was so weak she could barely speak she told me to burn her body when she was gone and leave the farm, and to never return. To go west and find more people, if they existed. So I did as she asked." Eric pulled out a braid tied at both ends. About eight inches in length and a golden brown with streaks of gray here and there. He rubbed it absentmindedly and Molly knew it must be from his mother by the love she could feel coming from him. "So I let loose the animals we had left, to fend for themselves, packed what I thought my eight year old self needed, burned down the buildings with my mother's corpse in the house and started west."
“And you have just been wandering ever since?” The doctor interjected.
“Something like that,” Eric replied. “I think I have been up and down the corridor from Iron Heart down to the El Dorado territory over a dozen times.”
“Good,” said Tom, “then I expect you know better what to expect than our previous guide.” Tom stood and stretched in front of the fire, “we had better turn in if we hope to be moving shortly after daybreak. Miss Molly?” He offered a hand to guide the blind woman.
“Thank you Mr, Decker,” she smiled, taking his hand, “goodnight all.”
Eric stood as people began to file out. “Tom, I'll take the first watch, if your men need some rack time.”
“Thanks, Eric. I'll have Juan relieve you in a few hours.” Replied Tom, still guiding the older but strangely graceful Molly to a tent.
Hernàn and his sister walked past and the doctor nodded a goodbye to him but his sister stopped in front of Eric. She seemed to stare at him with her clear green eyes like uncut emeralds. They burned with an intensity Eric had never seen before, like they could see more than normal eyes could. The look on her face was more one of curiosity than hostility. She just looked into his eyes for a few moments then gave a slight smile and rejoined her brother in heading back to the tents. Tom left Molly at the women's tent and walked the doctor and his sister to their private tent.
“You not a man of faith Mr. Decker?” Pressed Hernàn.
“No offense to your rain goddess sister or our half god guide, but if they were going to save us maybe they should have stopped the apocalypse from happening in the first place.” Tom replied.
The doctor held open the tent for Serenity to enter then turned back to the head teamster, “fair enough Mr. Decker, maybe the gods did abandon us, or maybe we abandoned them first. But she and Eric were not even born yet, so just because you have given up on the old gods, doesn't mean you shouldn't give these new ones a chance.” With a smile he turned and entered the tent, “goodnight Mr. Decker.”
When they all left Eric sat back down at the fire and the memories continued to drive themselves to the forefront of his mind.
New Brunswick Territory: 95 PA
Captain Vincent Vance looked over the top of the fallen tree at the boy knelt down in the snow. The fairies whirred around him. His eyes were half glazed yet still he swatted at them like insects with slow movements, as if he was moving through water. The small fae swirled around him, calling out to him in their tiny, bell-like voices,
"Tell us your name, love."
"You must be hungry," holding a branch of berries that sparkled and glistened like they were covered in honey.
"Don't you think I'm pretty? Don't you want a kiss?" As the third fluttered her long, tiny eyelashes at him.
Vance knew he had to move quickly or the fairies would own him. He would be their plaything until their version of play killed him. He stepped out in front of the tree and just stood there. The first of the trio buzzed up to him.
"Can I have your name?" She asked, zipping around his head.
"Can I have yours?" He responded calmly, not attempting to touch the small creature at all, no matter how close she came.
Another of the fae noticed her sister had found a new playmate and flew up. "Can I have a kiss, handsome?"
"Mine!" Snapped the first, viciously smacking at the other. The second began pulling on the hair of the first.
"Girls!" Screeched the one holding the fruits. "Don't get distracted.”
Vance pulled a few white cubes from his ration pouch.
All three fae sniffed frantically, "sugar!" they all said in unison.
"Real sugar." Said the fruit holder as she dropped the berries in her hands and they seemed to fade from existence before hitting the ground.
Vance stretched back his arm and flung the sugar cubes as far as he could. The fairies shot through the trees, bickering and slapping at each other while chasing the sweet treats.
Vance ran to the boy while the fae scraped with each other over the sugar. He scooped him up and ran. Trying to put as much distance between them as he could. The boy was in boots and pants torn off below the knee. His shirt was unbuttoned and he wore no coat in this cold. But as he carried the boy his body was strangely still warm to the touch.
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Vance placed the boy in front on the hovercycle, wrapped him in his blanket and sped off, hoping the fairies had lost interest in them enough there would be no pursuit.
Hours later the boy's body gave a sudden jerk as he caught back up with the now, sitting in front of the campfire. He looked around frantically at the now darkened woods then noticed the grizzled older man on the other side of the fire. He had close cropped hair and a short beard that was salt and pepper colored, and dull blue eyes that were almost gray. He wore a white set of combat armor with a red maple leaf looking insignia over the left breast. He was eating out of a bowl, with more of whatever was in it cooking in a pot over the fire. Having not eaten in two days the boy's stomach protested that what was in the pot was staying there.
"Messing with Fae is dangerous business." The man said. "You were moments from being a plaything."
"Ma warned me about fairies. I tried to run." The boy answered.
"Running just makes you a moving plaything." He said as he finished his bowl. "It's best to distract them or better yet get them to argue or fight." He stood up and fished more stew into the bowl. Then he came around the fire and offered some to the boy. It first crossed his mind that this was a trick, an illusion by them. But the stew smelled so good and this man hardly seemed fae-like.
"What's your name, kid?" As the boy dug into the food.
"Eric." He replied around a mouthful.
"How old are you, son?" The ranger asked.
"Nine, I think." Eric stopped and pondered for a second. "I started out last winter after my eighth birthday and it's winter again."
"How have you gone two winters without a coat, let alone a boy on your own out here with no weapons?” Vance questioned him as the boy gulped down the stew.
“I don't get cold.” He said with a swallow. “And I can handle myself fine, usually.”
Vance was put back over this to be sure, he wondered if he had taken a changeling at first, but the fae wouldn’t have teased one of their own like that. At least not as easily. “I am Captain Vance of the Tundra Rangers. Where are you headed? And where are your parents, son?”
“Mom died last winter, before she did she told me to burn the farm and set west. She wanted me to find other people. We were all that was left of our community on the coast.” He held out his bowl again.
Vance ladled the last of the stew into the bowl and handed it back to the boy. “This is the last of my rations. I hope you can hunt, son.”
“I can hunt and fish, and I can farm and forage. My mother taught me well.” Eric handed the bowl back empty again with a smile.
Vance chuckled, “well you ought to fit in well at the next settlement we reach.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Home. Fort Smith, but that lies through some dangerous territories.” Vance said, while cleaning up from dinner.
Eric got up and began helping him, “Maybe I can go with you. I want to learn to help people.”
He regarded the boy with curiosity. Not a lot of folks in this day and age wanted to help anyone but themselves. It would be a good desire to foster and grow. “Tell you what, it's a few days to the next settlement, we’ll see what you can learn and I will decide when we get there if I’m taking you to the Yukon territory.”
Fort Smith: 100 PA
The young man tore through the course, and the commander had never seen anything like it. “He’s broken every record, Vin. It seems impossible.”
“I told you, he’s a born Ranger,” Captain Vance smirked. He had told Eric to hold back, to try not to seem superhuman. Of course, that was the only word Vance could think of to describe the kid’s abilities that seemed close to appropriate. In the time he spent training him on the meandering route here, Eric seemed indestructible, and every day he just got stronger. “Tell me you don’t want to see him wearing the uniform Larry, I dare you.”
“Of course, he's in, Vin. But where the hell did you ever find him?” Commander Nevins asked, finding the reports on his pad and even watching the boy decimate his training course with his own eyes, unable to be reconciled in his head.
“New Brunswick, of all places,” chuckled Vance, “our own backyard. The boy is born to be a Ranger.”
“We'll see how he handles training camp.” Replied Nevins, finally finding something to grumble at, “then we will see if he's born for it.”
Two Months Later
Eric raised a forearm, blocking the kick and pushed back, sending the other boy flying across the mat. But after a skillful roll to his feet the boy was running back at him. He slid over the mat on his side between Eric's legs and grabbed hold. He tugged hard, and Eric just stood there looking down at him.
“Skeet, what in the hell are you doing?” Corporal Jenny Le Jeans yelled from the side of the mat. Although her tone was serious, her notably cute French accent made Eric have to suppress a smile.
“The… reverse… take down?” He said meekly.
“Are you telling me or asking me, cadet Dandridge?” Jenny barked.
Eric looked down and laughed, “I think you're doing well, keep pulling.”
“Cut the jokes, Magnison,” she sneered. She had that one eye closed and the opposing eyebrow raised look. To him it made the young superior officer look cute as opposed to fearsome as she intended.
Eric unsuccessfully attempted to stifle his laugh. “Yes sir, sergeant Popeye sir.” He couldn't stop himself.
She strode up to him, her face approaching the red of her short cropped hair. “Looks like you just earned a run to agony hill Magnison.” She pointed out the door, “double time, cadet.”
Eric trotted out the door still smiling, it was a three mile run to the hill across the base and through the parade grounds.
“Cadets! Form up!” At her command the remainder of the training unit fell into position. “Meet up at the commissary in ten, dismissed!” She watched them turn as one and jog out the exit to the mess hall. After they all left no one was there to see the smile grow on her lips before she jogged out the door Eric had left through.
She ran to the parade ground in an attempt to catch her cadet before he started down the hill, but Eric was at the gate to the grounds already.
“There is no way you made it to the hill and back already.” She said as she walked up to him. He pulled a flower from behind his back, a small violet. The only place around Fort Smith they grew was on top of Agony Hill.
Eric stepped up to the corporal, her face a mask of annoyance, and slipped the flower behind her left ear. She fought the smile as long as she could, but it eventually won out. She pushed herself onto her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck and softly pressed her lips to his. They kissed for at least a couple minutes before she pulled back, and with half lidded eyes whispered breathily, “farmboy, what am I to do with you?”
“We can keep doing this as far as I am concerned.” He whispered back through a big country smile.
“I'm serious,” she growled, “we are not supposed to be doing this. I'm risking my commission fraternizing with a cadet under my command. I worked for five years to get this rank and posting.”she sighed, running her fingers down his chest, "I'm risking it all for some doe eyed trainee just because he happens to be built like some Adonis.” she shivered as her fingers bumped over his abs.
“We'll be careful for now, and when I graduate we will be peers, and our relationship will be totally above board.” he kissed her again, long and deep as he caressed her body beneath her fatigues. It was toned and firm. She was a good soldier, a good leader and a more than good friend. Jenny was the only person he had ever made him feel like this before.
She finally broke their make out session, “stop, please. We need to get to the commissary.”
“I don't mind skipping lunch for this.” Giving her another kiss. And picking her up in his hands by her buttocks.
“Yes, but people will start to question if we don't show up.” She pulled out of his arms and started back. Oh, by the way,” she said, once again with an angry look, “Popeye? Really?”
“What,” he asked, innocently as they walked, “you have this thing with closing that one eye. I mean, how do you expect people to take you seriously?”
“I'm trying to look intimidating.” She griped.
“Adorable is what you look like.”
“Great, as if I don't have enough trouble being respected because of being both young and a woman.”
“I respect you,” he offered.
“You want in my pants,” she snapped back with a smile, “not the same thing.” she looked back at his expression after having his feelings belittled and with a hug to his massive bicep added, “not that I don't want you in them, it's just dangerous for us right now.”
Twenty armored Snow Lions and dozens of hovercycles pulled up to the settlement fifty miles southeast of Regina. The spring thaw had resulted in a landslide in the nearby hills and the entire graduating cadet class was deployed as a kind of final test after six months of training. Rescue and aid to the injured were the song of the day and the cadets were dancing like it was prom night. Treating the injured, clearing rubble and unburying homes, a thousand Tundra Rangers in white armor with the red maple leaf over the heart descended like angels on the village.
Jenny's unit pulled perimeter patrol, and while Eric would have rather been directly helping people, he was part of a team and this was his assignment.
They climbed over the hills the landslide started from, and found that half buried in the hillside was a five story building uncovered when the earth had moved.
“How the hell did that get in there?” Skeet asked.
“It was probably buried during the cataclysm, Dandridge.” Jenny replied, Skeet was a good soldier but his brain was like sap in January. “Baker, Tennant and Hondo, climb the hill and come in from the top. Dandridge, Magnison, Cauldwell and I will come in from the front.” Jenny commanded, prompting two of the humans and the mutant dogboy to start scrabbling up the hill. “And stay on coms till we clear the building.”
Eric was the first through the front, he reached up and switched on his light to see the mold covered drywall and rotting front desk of whatever this building had been previously. Sections of the floor above hung down in various spots where water had slowly dripped through the hill over hundreds of years. Jenny motioned in several directions and the unit split up.
“Call out when you find the stairs. Hondo, Baker, Tennant, are you inside yet?”
“Moving in now.” Was the dogboy's reply over the com.
“Found the stairs,” said Skeet, over his radio, “wait, something just ran up them.”
“Hold,” Jenny said, but she could hear the structure creak as Skeet barreled up the steps, “damn it skeet, I said hold. Magnison, Cauldwell on me”
Eric could hear the movement from the rest of the unit coming from different parts of the buried structure. He moved as quickly as he could in the direction Skeet had searched. When he rounded a corner and could finally see the stairs, Jenny had already disappeared up them.
She was still on the coms, “Skeet! Dandridge, answer me! What the hell?” And the coms went quiet.
Eric bounded up the steps in two hops. The floor up from the ground was a labyrinth of passages. Sections of walls had collapsed into the halls forcing him in directions he didn't want to go. The light on his helmet swept around as he turned his head. Then, at the end of one passage he saw her, crouched down half behind some rubble, was a little girl. Dirty and disheveled, like she had been in here awhile.
“Hey,” he said softly, “sweetheart. What are you doing here?” He paced slowly toward her, he reached into one of his pouches and produced a ration bar. “Come here sweetie, and I'll get you out of here.”
He had just reached her where she could take the food when she tried to stab something into his leg. Eric grabbed her wrist and picked her up. Opposed to frightened she looked confused. In her hand was a syringe, he snatched her up before she could push the plunger, but even if she had it seemed the needle had broken off. The tot just stared, perplexed at the broken implement, then she turned at his face with a haunting, vacant look in her eyes, and screamed.
The child thrashed violently in his grip. He was forced to put her down before she hurt herself, “shh, shh,” he tried to calm her as her feet returned to the moldered floor. As soon as she was loose she dashed off into the darkened passages.
“What was that!” Tennant called over the radio.
“Keep your eyes open,” replied Eric, “there is a child running around in here.”
“A kid, in here?” Baker responded.
“Where are you two?” Eric asked.
“About to descend to three.” Baker keyed.
“Well be careful, she tried to stab me, there may be others here too, just as frightened, possibly traumatized.” Eric was trying to keep order, even though he was worried how Jenny had gone silent. He picked up the syringe and held it up to his light. Inside was a sickly green, viscous liquid. He put it in a pouch and tried to follow the girl.
He wandered for several minutes before turning a corner and almost crashing into corporal Le Jeans.
“Magnison!” She yelped. “Did you see a little girl?”
“Yes,” he answered with a nod, “she tried to jab me with something.”
She held up the end of her coms wire, “little brat ripped out my radio.”
“Skeet?”
“No sign of him,” she replied.
“She might have gotten him. He could be lying somewhere incapacitated or dying.” He said worrisomely.
She motioned ahead, “well take point, let’s go find him.”
They wandered the passages for several more minutes, “why do you still have your rifle racked cadet?” She asked, her own firmly in her hands.
“She may be lashing out in fear, but she's still a kid. Holding a gun on her doesn't exactly scream, ‘I want to be your friend’.” he answered.
“And jabbing you with a needle full of goo doesn't scream friendly either.” She returned, just as his light fell on the small girl again.
“I didn't say anything about a needle.” He sighed, just as he heard her safety disengage. For a moment he feared Jenny was about to shoot the girl in cold blood.
Unfortunately, he then felt the barrel against the back of his head, “she's really sorry, Farmboy.” She whispered before she pulled the trigger.
The looks on the faces of the girl and Jenny were visible confusion as Eric rubbed the back of his head where the energy bolt impacted it, leaving only a blackened mark, as he slowly turned to face his commanding officer.
“What… are you exactly?” She asked. Just before he snatched her rifle from her hands, forcing her to step back as he effortlessly broke the gun in two.
Skeet appeared behind her, rifle leveled at him to Eric's surprise. He took a step forward regardless, only to stop when Jenny put her sidearm to her own head.
“It may not do any good to shoot you, but you will stay right there if you don't want me blowing your little girlfriend's head off.” She said in a tone colder than any he had ever heard her use. Her accent wasn't even present anymore.
“Who are you? Are you even really Jenny?” He asked.
“Oh, she's still in here,” she said, tapping the gun on her head. “She is screaming inside, like they all do. She's worried about you, but she's also hurt that you were hiding things about yourself from her. Obviously you didn't tell her what you really are either.”
“Just a farm boy from Newfoundland.” He answered. “Get out of her, now. Get out of her or so help me I will find you, whatever you are, and I will break you.”
It laughed with Jenny's voice, “I am quite safe from you. I am far from where you are, running a network of my puppets larger than you can fathom. As I have for centuries before I came to this world, as I will until this universe grows dark. I am more than you can comprehend, biped.”
Jenny and Skeet nodded at each other and without a word the child ran to Skeet, taking his hand as he led her away.
When she looked back at Eric she was smiling, this thing that had a hold of her was enjoying how this hurt him. It was amused by his distress, his despair, and it was prolonging it as long as it could. He couldn't reach his neural mace to stun her before it could use her finger to pull her own trigger.
“Just let her go.” Eric pleaded.
“No one ever gets away. There is no escape. She is strong, not a lot of beings can put up a fight like she is right now. I will say the mental training you Rangers give your people is comedable,” it was backing Jenny's body away from him now. If it got away he might never find her again, “but your minds are toys to mine. No one resists me.”
Three shapes began to form out of the dark behind her, and in response Eric moved as fast as he could. Her eyes flicked over to see the rest of the squad approaching and she smiled only saying, “whoopsie.”
Just as the trigger was pulled and Baker had managed to simply say, “corporal?” Eric had just barely managed to touch her arm as the energy bolt ripped through her head. Her already lifeless body deflated into his arms as he fell to his knees.
Eric screamed as his tears streamed down his face, and he held her still warm in his arms as she stared at the ceiling.
He carried her all the way back to the village, and while she lay on the stretcher, and the medics examined her, he stroked his fingers through her bloodsoaked hair.
Eric stood before the commander's desk back at Fort Smith. The needleless syringe sat before him and the commander held his face in his hands, the report open in front of him.
“Damn it.” He cursed. “Le Jeans was one of the best of us.” He looked at the goo in the glass. “You said this stuff just instantly let something out there take control of our people?”
“Yes, sir.” Eric replied. He just wanted to run. Just run away somewhere far and cry. But he stood there trying to stay strong when he had never felt weaker in his life.
“We will send this stuff to the lab. My hope is we can fabricate some kind of antidote, or hell a vaccine. For God's sake, any one of our people could already be compromised.” He looked up at Eric, still keeping a neutral face. “I know that doesn't help Le Jeans, but we can hopefully keep anyone else safe.”
“Sir, is that all? Am I dismissed, sir?” Eric asked. He was moments from a breakdown.
Vance stood back, off to his side, and he could see the wetness beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. “Yes, Magnison. We have the full report. Dismissed.”
Eric walked hurriedly out of the office. Vance stepped up to the desk, “Larry I want to request private Magnison be transferred to the scouts for continued training.”
The commander looked up at his old friend, ignoring the breach in protocol in using his first name in making an official request. But no one else was in the office, “a little soon, don't you think Vic? He just left boot and lost a commanding officer.”
“There is more to it than is in that report.” Vance replied, hanging his head, “he loved her. Just as I believe she did him. He lost a commander and someone he loved in one tragedy. Yet. Here he was today, standing strong before you to give a straight and clear report on everything that happened. He's hurting but it didn't stop him from doing his duty.” He walked over to the corner of the desk to sit on the edge. “Eric has special skills, sir. Skills special enough that I believe he would be perfect for reconnaissance on the Coalition of Humanity threat.”
Larry sat back in his chair trying to grasp what his friend was driving at, “what kind of special skills?”
Eric sat at the top of Agony Hill, legs pulled up under his chin, waiting for the tears. He could feel them, but for some reason they just didn't flow. Not like the previous night when they wouldn't stop.
Twenty minutes later, Captain Vance walked up the hill. Grumbling something about being too old. He took one look at his red but dry eyes and commented, “ah, you're out I see.” he sat next to the boy, “they'll come back, give them time.”
“Everything I can do. All this power, and I couldn't save her.” Eric said, his tone told Vance everything.
He let out a long sigh, as if he were going to unload some truck full of ancient wisdom, “you can't save everybody, son. I wish we could. But sometimes no matter how hard you try, no matter how good, how powerful you are, it won't be enough.” He looked the boy dead in his eyes. “But that does NOT mean we stop trying. Because my boy, for every person I couldn't save, there were a hundred that I did save. But you, well with what you can do you'll save a thousand. Hell, ten thousand I bet. And the ones you do save, to the person they come home to, to them, it will be a miracle. And that, my boy, that is why we keep trying.”
Kansas Territory: 109 PA
“That must have been terrible.” Eric had been staring into the fire, consumed by past events. He hadn't even heard her approach. Miss Molly had made it from her tent back here without making a sound. She didn't trip or stumble, neither did she bump into anything. For a blind woman, she got around quite well.
“I have my ways, my little tricks.” She answered, although he had not said anything aloud. “Yes, Mr. Magnison, I am a psychic, and I could hear your memories from my tent. The emotion, so strong.” She used his shoulder to sit down on the log next to him. “She seemed lovely. And to truly care for you. She didn't deserve what befell her. By the way, did you ever find the thing that took her from you?”
Eric shook his head and immediately realized he used a nonverbal cue on a blind woman, “no. Last report I received said the entity behind the incident was still unknown. They managed to find a way to detect the toxin, meaning that they can scan personnel and detect infected, but still no antidote. So they can lock up the compromised, but not cure them.”
She leaned her head on his muscular arm, “there are many kinds of strength Eric. The burdens you carry have made you strong in many ways, remember that.”
“Doesn't make it hurt any less.” he replied, but he smiled nonetheless.
“That's good,” Molly said with a chuckle, “it wouldn't hurt if you didn't really love them.”
“I'm good, miss Molly. You needn't worry about me.” He stood up and took her hand, helping her to her feet. “Do you need help getting back to your tent?”
“Need? No. But I wouldn't mind.” She smiled as they made their way to the encampment.
“So if you have these little tricks, why do you let Tom believe you need to be coddled?” He asked.
She laughed for a bit. “I assume you of all people would realize how letting people underestimate you can be an advantage. Besides, letting kind and strong gentlemen like you and Tom fuss over me isn't the worst thing in the world.”
“If you're a psychic then you know Tom has quite a thing for you, I assume.” He said as they stopped in front of her tent.
Again she gave a modest laugh, “You think I would have let it continue if I didn't like it? I might have a little thing for him as well.” She patted his cheek and slipped inside her tent.
Eric circled the camp a few times before some of Tom's men relieved him. Eric went to his hovercycle and sat down, leaning his back against it and using the seat to lay his head on. He folded his arms and was soon asleep himself, the memories from before making an encore performance in his dreams.
Camp was packed up shortly after daybreak. Breakfast was served for those who wanted it, Tom Decker sipped coffee as he watched the last of the tents loaded and all the trailers hitched.
Eric stepped up beside him, “we'll clear these trees and beyond that it's all fields for a while. We'll move faster but it will leave us open to attack . I'll keep ahead to watch for ambushes, but make sure your people watch the sides and rear.”
Tom finished his sip and nodded, “thanks Eric. We will have sentries in the hatches of all the mountaineers.”
“And look up.” He added, “a lot of monsters like to attack from the air in large open spaces.”
“Will do.” Tom said as he stepped up the sideboard of his truck. Eric drifted in front of the line on the hover cycle and sped off. Tom circled his finger over his head, “Mount up!” And he slipped into his cab with the doctor and his sister.
The wagon train pulled out and was once again on its way.