Chapter 2: Animal
“Ignition to citadel depo...do you copy?”
There was nothing but a crackle. Iggy had the communicator close to his bloody face as he held down the button speaking button.
“Ignition to citadel depo, I am still carrying package 320, I’m…in an unknown patch of the waste, please respond.”
Iggy had awoken with a tongue like sandpaper, and with all the adrenaline of the high speed chase now gone, his body was deathly weak from his injuries. Although his leg had stopped bleeding he wasn’t confident he could walk if he needed to. The radio device was slightly damaged but it was still working, Iggy knew someone was listening.
Pick up you bastards, you can hear me.
Suddenly the fuzz and crackle came to life, and a heavily muffled voice responded.
“Copy Ignition, this is Rayko, Depo office. You’re over an hour late”.
“Y-yes Depo, bandit raid, Cook’s men I think. I barely escaped with my life and my vehicle is-”
“What of the cargo, is it intact?”
Iggy sighed, noting the emotionless tone of the officer. He hadn’t gotten out of the car yet, but he had no reason to believe the grey strongbox in his boot would have been damaged, the material of the cargo’s casing was stronger than the armor of the Blockgain. But he thought he’d take a look anyway.
“Just confirming, there was a collision and-”
“And what? What is the status of the cargo?”
It wasn’t there.
Everything in the atmosphere was suddenly unpleasant. The wind became salty and dry; the screech of the crows were much more shrill and the glare of the pale orange sun felt excessively harsh. This was the effect of panic setting in.
It was definitely here…how long was I out for?
“I repeat, what is the status of the cargo? Please repor-”
Iggy ended the call immediately.
He knew what was coming next, no matter how rational or fantastical his excuse, the depo would hold him responsible for the missing cargo. The price of the cargo was seven thousand standards, the delivery error fee was another two thousand, and every day he failed to clear that debt he would be charged another thousand up to a month. The citadel is a days drive away so even if he made it back as fast as possible he would still owe them 10,000 standards total. Currently, he had just under 800, which would mean that even after his beloved car was repossessed and his weapons were sold for capital he would still have to serve a lengthy sentence at a debt camp; which he would most surely die in.
Returning to the Citadel was no longer an option.
After punching his dashboard in anger, he attempted to leave via the passenger door only to realise the feeling in his leg had mostly vanished. The bleeding had stopped but only due to a gruesome looking scab over his heavy duty cargo jeans. The wound was numb when he briefly picked at it and concluded it was probably best to leave it be.
Swinging both legs outside the car he grimaced as the hot sun beat down on his back. The waste stretched on endlessly in all directions and the only scenery apart from the discoloured sand was the remains of the Scar Buggy that he totalled. After taking the job to deliver cargo in the wasteland Iggy never thought he would be reduced to scavenging. Being a minor celebrity in the Demolition circuit meant that he had the luxury to look down on those who were forced to dive in junkyards as a means to live. And that was the folks inside the citadel; the wasters outside of it were basically living like animals. Regardless, it was survival time and supplies were top priority before the dreaded sundown.
Walking was very uncomfortable. With a minor tingling feeling in his leg he limped desperately across the 30 or so feet between his car and the smashed buggy. His sleeveless duster felt heavier than ever and his armpits itched ferociously as large droplets of sweat trickled down the inside of his wiry arms. He tried to lubricate his throat many times by swallowing only for his mouth to be scratched with the sandpapery texture of his swollen tongue.
Do powderheads carry water?
A couple of steps away from the front buggy that was cut in half by the impact of the crash, Iggy was met with the repulsive sight of one of the passengers. The Bandit's upper body had been torn from the abdomen with a trail of intestines painting a bright red trail back to the front half of the vehicle. The heavily tattooed, bare chested corpse laid face down in the sand with it's two broken arms stretched out in separate directions. In the left hand was a large dark grey revolver with an engraved creamwood handle with the barrel still warm from recent fire. With great pain he managed to lean over and grab it stuffing it quickly into his duster's pocket. Even if it was empty, firearms were like diamonds in the waste, they sold for a lot of standards. He counted two rounds in the barrel with a small sigh of disappointment.
Craning his face away from the smell of the corpse, Iggy limped to the carcass of the rival vehicle and did his best to rummage through the debris. Apart from a few bags of powder there was very little of value besides junk. There was a canteen with a small amount of liquid but Iggy decided against drinking it until he could be sure it was water. Searching the back-half of the buggy was a little more fruitful. He found a spare half canister of fuel which miraculously didn't explode upon impact when Iggy smashed into them, plus a nasty looking nail bat that had a few strings of razor-wire around the end of it. Iggy immediately liked the weight of it as he gave it a few light swings. He was then struck with the cold realisation that this weapon would have been used to maul him into a mess of meat if they had won the vehicle duel, after a long exhale his body just a little more comfortable to exist in.
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Not this time fellas...not this time.
That minor pleasant turn was instantly soured by the sight of the 2nd corpse. Although still in one piece, all of the limbs were heavily distorted and deformed from the crash. The face had the horrified final expression of life plastered across it, with gory holes for eye sockets were the waste crows had plucked them out for an afternoon meal. Iggy wretched, with the dryness of his throat kept him from bringing anything up.
Iggy mentally prepared himself to search the corpse, but the insect-like appearance of its warped appendages along with the sickly pungent scent cocktail of burnt flesh, dried blood and rusted metal was too much to stomach . Iggy simply turned away desperately trying to remove the image from his mind.
He wasn't built for this kind of violence. There had been fatal accidents in some of the derbys he was in, but he very rarely had to see the state of the victims in the aftermath and never up this close.
I sure don't want to do this again, it can't be like this all the time in the waste?
The introspection was cut short by a sharp, stabbing pain in his leg. The feeling hadn't returned fully but it was enough of a contrast to draw immediate attention to his crusted wound. It almost felt like a bite.
Still holding his new barbed nail-bat, he used his free hand to immediately grab his leg where the pain was shooting from. The scab was coarse and sticky and he was met with a slight sting when his blistered hand felt it. But the throb of the pain was coming from somewhere deeper inside his leg, underneath the scab he felt something moving.
Panic hit him like his old driving instructor smacking him across the face with a heavy glove. Iggy dropped to the floor in a seated position as he abandoned all fear of pain and began tearing at his scab for the source of the movement. He would rather bleed to death then have some sort of unknown parasite crawl around inside him. After tearing off a thick layer of stiff encrusted scab he was met with the horrific sight of something bulbous and slimy pulsating on his leg. Iggy had no interest in trying to waste precious seconds wondering what it was. He wanted it off of him immediately.
He could barely get a decent grip on it before he began to pull. It was a pale yellow colour with blotches of a wine red shade across it like the pattern of a spotted superbloom mushroom. As Iggy squeezed it to tug, the color morphed with the pressure of his hand, turning a passionate blood red like a fist-sized pimple ready to burst. Iggy's panic and anger were the only thing keeping him from passing out due to shock.
Get off, fuckkk, come on….
With a desperate tug, Iggy removed the fleshy bulb from his skin and it flew from his hands as fast as he pulled it. His scream of fear and pain was matched by a terrifying high pitched wail that came from the thing itself as it flew across the sand.
Wh-what the hell was it?
Iggy didn't have to wonder long. Through the blur of his teary eyes the source of his panic took shape. The bulb opened to show a gaping wide mouth and two protruding black eyes. It was a Bloodtoad.
Of course…I mean what else?
Fairly common across the more remote areas of the wastes, the very small Bloodtoad would burrow its way into the body of a much larger host; usually through an open wound before secreting a blood-clot toxin which would cause the opening to rapidly close up and scab over. The blood-toad would then begin to dig deeper inside and drink blood from the host gradually enough to go unnoticed while growing with every gulp.
Some reports described the toad inside a human for days or even weeks before being noticed depending on how slowly it would drink. After reaching a certain size and strength it would deliver a knockout toxin and fully devour the host from the inside as they sleep. On of the many wastes.
Dinnertime is over, you fucking animal!
Iggy's rise to his feet was unbalanced and staggered as the blood loss was fully apparent to his system but he had enough piss and vinegar pumping through him to kill the ugly frog before succumbing to his injuries. The toad was too fat and bloated to scramble to its feet in time to make its escape and Iggy had already closed in and cocked his new bat back to swing for the fences.
His ears were met with the explosion of a liquid baloon.
The sound would repulse anyone else, but to Iggy it was like the finest music. The bat found its target perfectly and caused the blood sucking monster to burst upon impact. Sweet-smelling blood splashed in every direction, the colour purple-red coated both halves of the buggy, the corpses and Iggy himself.
...Nice….
There was an elated feeling to follow, a shallow but giddy feeling of victory, Iggy wasn't even certain he had saved his own life, but ridding the world of the slimy puss balloon felt just as good.
Then came the growls.
I must smell pretty tasty right now...
Iggy's luck had it so that the scent of the sweet blood of the Toad had picked up downwind and had clearly caught the attention of something hungry. Everything was hungry in the big waste. He was a little too dizzy to hear exactly what direction it was coming from but it was getting closer.
Raidlion...Gamma-Grizz...Plentipede, what are you?
His brain gave his damaged body several orders to dash back to his car and escape. Drained from his blood-toad homerun, he was barely able to make two steps before stumbling to the ground, his legs wouldn't stand underneath him. He was now using every ounce of sheer willpower just to stay conscious. Being devoured wasn't going to be pleasant at all, he could only hope that dying quickly would spare him the agony of being digested.
Maybe I can hold my breath...it eases the pain…I just want to sleep now.
It had been widely understood that Citi-zens like Iggy were never meant for the waste and it was no more apparent to him than now in his sorry condition. Impatiently waiting to die so he wouldn't have to face being eaten by a wild animal of the waste. The growling was now ravenous and shaking the very air that brought it to Iggy. Curiosity caused the doomed driver to stare right at the source of the guttural sounds.
Ugh..another frog...of course it'd be.
It wasn't actually a frog but a Gecko of the waste variation. About 6 feet long and covered with rough yellow scales and huge black eyes with a red tint. It's lengthy tongue lashing back and forth, tasting the air for a source of food, which was now right in front of it.
Iggy wasn't scared anymore, there was nothing he could do but show defiance, he wanted to look straight at this beast and sneer, cursing it for not being the high powered muscle car he always assumed would kill him in a derby.
As the salivating reptile closed in, Iggy relaxed his eyes and let his breathing crawl to a sedate pace. It was going to come soon. Nature was going to take him back to wherever he came. He closed his eyes and he heard the sickening crunch of powerful jaws gnashing into flesh and bone. There was no feeling, only sound.