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The Promethead - Paths of Approach
A Following Thunder – 16

A Following Thunder – 16

He could hear himself breathing, could feel the dull agony in the expansion and contraction of his chest. He could feel cold hardness beneath him. Sounds crackled and blew.

He wasn’t dead after all, Goa realized. Death surely wouldn’t hurt this bad. He hoped it wouldn’t.

There was some light beyond his eyelids. Pain behind them, pain continually in his chest as he breathed in, and then out again. Repeated.

He was alive. He opened his eyes. The ground was grey, dirt and scattered gravel, the sky above was streaked with grey. But there was light coming from above. Not the light he still ached for. It must just be the sun.

He looked around as much as he could without moving. That wasn’t going to be enjoyable, he knew. All he could see was sky and smoke and dirt.

It was painful to move. Goa's chest hurt, his arms hurt, his legs hurt. But he could move them. He slowly rolled himself onto his side, glanced around further. He was lying in a ditch, over the broken remains of the post, but free. The blast must have blown him free of his bonds. Abek reached up and rubbed his face. It was sticky and cold. He saw the wet blood on his hand.

As injured as he was though, he was still alive. And still intact.

The things must have left him for dead. He could hear the wind, the sound of blazing fires, but nothing else. No crying, no screaming, no sound of human beings, or even mechanical noises. He crawled up, pulled himself up and over the lip of the ditch. His eyes widened.

The terrain had been flattened. The structures which had once surrounded him were completely blown away. What was left were great burning and smoking ruins, There was no sign of the southland cannibals. He got to his feet, stumbled around looking for anything of use. There were some tools still littering the ground, even some there were some weapons. And there were signs living humans had been there once. There were even a few limbs strewn about.

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Goa picked up a severed hand that still gripped a pistol, pried loose the fingers and pulled the weapon free, dropping what remained of the man who had once had held it. The metal was cold but it was comforting in his grip.

There were no signs of the mechs either. Somehow, he had managed to survive all the destruction. Lucky again. Or was it more than that? He had dreamt something, but now could barely recall it as anything more than streaming light. He rubbed his head. It was tender just about everywhere he touched. Could have just been the blast then, he decided.

It was time to find his way out of here, make his way back to where he’s cached his pack. In the distance, beyond the smoke, the towers still stood, landmarks enough to guide him back to it.

Kel’s family wasn’t going to be too happy, Abek knew, to learn he didn’t make it on his first trip with the outlander. The kid had two brothers. They were older, big men. It wouldn’t be good for him to go back to Recklin now.

Where could he go then? Where would be close enough for his meager supplies to last?

Maybe Panak. Yes. The place was said to be little more than a shithole run by a violent strongman, but it was no more than two or three weeks walk from these blasted ruins at worst. And it was also rumored greggas were more or less welcome there, outlander or not. He’d even heard there were some so called ‘Sleepers’ in the vicinity who would pay well for useful tech.

Goa glanced around at the burning ruins. There was still some intact tools, weapons, and tech lying about. The trip wouldn’t be a complete loss then.

The veteran spotted the burnt remains of another leg on the ground a few yards away. Yeah, with luck he might make it. He was a survivor after all.

Abek took a breath in, looked up into the sky, seeing beams of sunlight streaming through the clouds and smoke. They reminded him of something, something from his concussion dream.

Light.

He turned his gaze back to his more immediate surroundings, breathed in painfully, spat out the collected blood in his mouth.

Time to get to work, he told himself. You can rest when you’ve got a shelter again. One far away from here.

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