Eli could have sworn that Cone had been close to tears when he found that there wouldn’t be a security perimeter. The merchant’s face was redder than the undercooked deer meat that they were eating, and he was sweating like a pig about to be slaughtered. Eli honestly couldn’t remember if he had felt his family’s pigs sweating before they were butchered. They had made a lot of noise, he knew that. Cone had been doing his fair share of squealing about how they needed some kind of a barrier between their camp and the wilderness. He said that there had to be at least two people watching their surroundings, and early-warning systems deployed in a 500-foot radius around the Roller. Beefcake had said that plan would work, if he was one of the two people on first watch. Warra had also pointed out they couldn't exactly string tripwires on the open planes. Cone had looked around and realized that he wasn’t in the wooded terrain of the Ozarks that he had spent most of his life in.

Almost all of Cone’s usefulness had been in making this venture possible. Scratch that: almost all of Cone’s usefulness had been in making this venture convenient for Eli. It was definitely within his ability, and the order he represented, to make the necessary arrangements and recruit the necessary people. He had recruited their guide and “security officer”. Cone freed him up to conduct extra research over the summer, and provided a layer of insulation between him and the five laborers. He had also done all of the liaising with the Guild to let them give the team one of the Rollers, and launch from Rusted Horizon. He still wasn’t sure how much of that had been Cone using his own skill, and whatever reputation a prominent silicone merchant had, or him saying that this was for a Formers-sponsored expedition. Maybe there had just been a lot of people who wanted him to die on the Singing Road, in comfort.

Cone still had a good deal of comfort on this journey. He was considered a second-in-command, which was more than what his own clan viewed him as. Him and Pontius also shared the pilot’s enclosure and its two relatively soft bunks. The enclosure was originally designed for two pilots to take shifts so the Roller could be driven continuously, however it also worked for one pilot and his buddy. Since Hugo and his team did all of the camp-making and maintenance, Cone was also free to spend his days admiring the planes, working through some of his own ledgers, and finding innovative ways to be paranoid. By virtue of being older and traveling for his work, Cone had his own wealth of knowledge on all of the horrors that befell those who trifled with the Singing Road or its odd mechanics. And he had been using that knowledge to a comical extent with his bitching about the need for a perimeter.

He must have said “the things come at night!” at least four times. This was true. The only times that the phenomena were encountered during waking hours was when the victims went into poorly lit areas, namely ruins, or there was some weather event that obscured visibility, like a blizzard. The “things” did not want to be seen until it was too late. What Cone probably didn’t know was that his whole notion of setting up a watch was more futile than trying to string tripwires on flat ground. Eli had been able to personally inspect the site of an attack while the bodies were still fresh. The captain of the doomed strider had been eviscerated as 30 of her crewmates stood on watch. One of the people with Eli, who had trained under a forensic specialist, estimated that the captain had been dead for almost six hours before the rest of the crew followed. She was in her vessel’s heavily armored storage-room, Cone slept in a metal and glass box; if someone had supplicated against him, he was already dead. Was that why he had been so eager to waste that person on the raft?

The only good thing to come of Cone’s blubbering about the need for better security, besides Eli’s amusement, had been everyone else’s. They hadn’t even gone through half of a beer-keg, and the crew was roaring with laughter— At Cone. In-between taking bets on who would be eaten first, Beefcake had been trying to convince Cone that he saw something moving in the distance. D.Q. had been kind enough to tell the crew how much firepower Cone had originally requested for the trip. She had almost let it slide that there had been no vague recompensation deal, and that she was only part of the team because Cone wanted a gun on board. There were other matters between her and Eli, but those wouldn’t be brought up at dinner. Hugo had come close to choking on his meat when D.Q. said Cone had asked her if her squad could mount two of their heavy MGs on the Roller, because he wanted “redundancy”. Beefcake had been too drunk to properly execute a joke about how that applied to Cone’s weight, or something. Eli knew damn well that there wouldn’t be half as much mirth if they were anywhere else in America. Cone was the only person who was being vocal about his fears, and everyone was jumping at the opportunity to prove that they weren’t afraid. Eli had also forseen this potential use for the merchant.

In the end, Cone had skulked back to his lodgings on the side of the Roller, with a hatchet slung across his back while the rest of the crew piled into their tent. Warra was nowhere to be seen. The awkward hunter must have found somewhere in the town to put her sleeping-bag after she finished with the carcass. Various chunks of deer now hung from a wire that ran from one of the ship’s railings to the tent. Although they had more than enough provisions from the Horizon, the crew had been excited at the prospect of salted venison. Eli personally wanted to see what would happen if a wolf stopped by the camp, along with other potential visitors. The actual “camp” was a cluster of bags and crates that had been deposited in the snow to make seats around the stove that D.Q. had brought. Apparently the device was a refitted version of the flamethrowers that the Regime used for defense, before they started manufacturing more advanced weapons. It ran off of the methanol fuel cannisters that she had packed. At its highest setting, the stove could produce a pillar of flame that was over four feet tall, and very good for interrogating hostages as D.Q. had explained.

The Roller itself was parked near the start of the town’s mainstreet, as close as Pontius could drive it without running over something. Eli could see the entirety of the pitiful settlement as he stood above the hatch. Apart from the sky, the only light for miles around came from a lantern in the pilot’s enclosure and a little twinkle from one of the outlying buildings. That was most likely a bit of glass reflecting off of the Roller. But everything was quiet, and the clouds were rolling in. This was a calm night, and when they woke up, everything would be covered in a layer of snow. He would have stood and admired the scenery for a while if he didn’t have to piss so badly. Beer did that, scotch didn’t. He should have drunken his scotch. He honestly thought about pissing off the bow: he could make quite an impressive arc. Unfortunately, it was too early in the expedition for him to not play by the rules. Eli made an effort to climb down without waking up Cone or Pontius, and set out in search of an unassuming wall or tree.

“Pssst” He heard someone say… to his left, and at an elevation. Someone was sitting atop one of the buildings and waving at him. The rope ladder dangled from the roof of a pharmacy and general store. Eli walked over and looked up. Above him he saw the twinkling eyes and prosthetic teeth of the expedition’s gunner.

“Hey, Eli! I have a little treat for you.” She said before pulling back. Sex? There was always a non-zero chance for sex. He thought about his odds before climbing up. What was something flirtatious to say? He could get some mileage out of her name, and how she was a “queen”.

“Good evening, my lady.” He said after heaving himself to the lip of the roof. D.Q. was sitting cross-legged next to a mounted telescope. Judging from how there was a blanket under her, and several piled up next to her, this was where she planned to spend the night. If he played his cards right, he could spend it with her. That was a big “if”. And he wasn’t yet sure if he wanted to. Sex was on the list of things that could go wrong. It made people clingy to him. Worse still, it distracted him when something happened to them.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Take a peek.” She said, holding the shaft of the telescope to him. Now if only he could get her to hold his— He needed to stop. This was why he should have tried to sleep with someone on the Rusted Horizon. It was shaping up to be a long three days, or however long they had left. But what was she trying to show him up here, if not something on her person. Was there the remains of a strip-club? An especially phallic ruin?

“Only the best for the lead researcher…” He sighed as D.Q. aimed the scope at the source of the faraway light. Part of him knew from the start that it wouldn’t be just sex or an emotionally fraught conversation up here.

“You’re the only researcher.” She reminded him. Eli pulled back from the eye-piece and looked at her.

“Do you want me to research this?” He asked. She nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, I want to see your process.”

“Deal, but then you got to give me your… tactical observations.” Eli said before returning to the scope. This could still be a kind of flirtation.

“How are the two specimens?” She asked as he felt her arm wrap around his torso. This was happening. This was really happening. This was really what she found to be intimate.

“Well, my records indicate that the male is ‘Beefcake’ and the female is ‘Splint.” He said. And now he was starting to have some fun playing along with this.

“Uh-huh, and what are they doing… sir?” She asked. D.Q. was now close enough for Eli to smell her breath.

“The subjects have discarded their clothing, and appear to be mating… however, this is unlike previous couplings that I have observed, as Splints hands are tied with a rope that is looped around an exposed structural beam.” He remarked.

“Isn’t there a special term for that?” She asked. Right now, Eli wanted nothing more than to look up and see what her face was like. What would he see? A darker version of Warra, that had been forced to sever all of her empathy and compassion? Had she been born this twisted and detached? Or was she something like him? Whatever the cause, the result was a shell of violence and sadistic amusement who reeked of spirits and propellants. This was fun. He felt safe with someone who gave so little fucks.

“What we are witnessing either belongs to the sub-category of ‘incredibly kinky’, or ‘rape.” He said.

“I’ve been watching them for about 10 minutes, I can confirm they are engaged in the latter— sir.” She said. He had no doubt that she had probably stood on this roof and watched as Beefcake had dragged an inebriated and gagged Splint over to the remote building, and just smiled at the night’s entertainment.

“And I can also confirm that you are a depraved piece of shit— my lady.” He said as he looked back at her.

“What are you going to do about this?” She asked, pointing at the scene in the distance.

“If I had something bigger than that ax he has next to him, I’d attempt something heroic.” Eli said. This was plain flirting: none of it meant anything, but it conveyed the right emotions, or lack of.

“Well, I have something that’s sure to make you a little bolder.” D.Q. said as she grabbed his wrist. Eli smiled blithely as his hand was pulled towards her chest, across her left breast, and onto the grip of a pistol on a side-holster. All the while she was smiling like his hand was still on her boob.

“You are full of surprises, my lady.”

“Why, thank you.” She said as Eli withdrew the weapon and held it up for inspection. Somehow, the gunner had come across the Regime equivalent of an heirloom. This was one of the Divining Rods, the first ever weapon to utilize their liquid-propelled rounds. Less than ten of them had been forged, and Eli had only heard tales of their crudeness.

“Just squeeze the handle to fire, right?” He asked, as he pointed the weapon at her. She reclined against her pile of blankets. Already he could feel his arm starting to fatigue under the weight.

“It’s the same kind that the Demigod uses for his executions.” She said. Eli felt patronized. He also knew that there wasn’t anything resembling a skull left on the condemned afterwards. It had been over a year since he’d handled any kind of device like this, and now he wanted to go use it.

“Alright, I’m going to go try to be a hero…” He announced before checking the telescope again. It wasn’t even a real telescope, she had just taken the scope off of a mounted gun. Eli put Beefcake’s head in the middle of the crosshairs, just for the look of it. Maybe he would kill him tonight. But how to go about it? He was conducting his business in a slightly collapsed house that was 400 yards from the main street, and the cover it provided. Eli would have to approach from a flanking angle. He already saw beefcake checking his rear every few seconds as he was grinding away on Splint. There was a house next to them, he could wait in that until Beefcake started going back to camp. And what was that on the roof…

Something looked at him

Eli fell back onto the blanket under him and let out a puff of foggy breath. This was going to be his best expedition yet, by far.

“What is it?” D.Q. asked, slightly concerned.

“See for yourself.” He said. She obliged. He must have knocked the telescope out of focus on his way down, because she took a few moments to find it. When she did, she shuddered and collapsed next to him.

“Oh wow… Wow.” She said, like they had just finished fucking.

“Now that is a phenomena.” Eli said.

“Those eyes…” He had thought an owl at first, but they were so gray that they looked more like a subterranean fish of some kind. But the rest of the phenomena was still avian in structure. And it was perched on the roof.

“It looked right at us, like full eye-contact.” He was ruining the moment with these observations, and he knew it. He just had to remember enough for a detailed entry.

“What did you see?” She asked. He closed his eyes and saw a glimpse of it again.

“A line of fire… almost a hundred feet in the air, stretching as far as I could see.” He said. There were flashes of another scene, but this one struck him the most.

“Not stretching— walking.” She added.

“Did you see the cars?”

“They were new.” They had been. He had seen the coats of paint reflecting the flames.

“This is significant.”

“What was it?” She asked him with genuine curiosity, but no fear whatsoever.

“I think we both had a visions of Interstate 94 being carpet-bombed.”

“The fuck is—?”

“The Singing Road… It became the Singing Road.”

“So it’s…”

“It was never just a myth.” Eli said, as he stood up and looked across the frozen expanse, and whatever the fuck was out there.

“This place has been cursed since the Burnout.” D.Q. propped herself up on her arm and grabbed the barrel of the Divining Rod she’d given him. It was a small miracle that he hadn’t accidentally set it off.

“Are you still going to be a hero?” She asked. Eli passed the gun back to her.

“If any of my research is accurate, that thing on the roof will settle matters.” He said as he stepped back to the ladder. D.Q. sat up and frowned at him

“Off to sleep? Really?”

“I need to keep my mind sharp for the next… For what’s coming. I need to record as much of this as possible.” He explained.

“Record…hmph.” She said, like he was lying.

“It’s my job.” Eli said as he started climbing down.

“Do you know the only thing worse than having nothing to hold onto?” She asked when only his head remained above the roofline. He shrugged, she may not have seen the gesture.

“Pretending to hold onto something.” She said.

As he walked back to the Roller and the assortment of doomed fools within, Eli thought hard about what separated him from someone like D.Q. By joining the Regime, she had basically declared that she had nothing left to live for except bloodlust and thrill-seeking. Currently, Eli held a more cultured version of that ideology. He wanted novel experiences, and… a kind of demented exclusivity to them. Other people would accomplish more in their lives, and their memories would persist for longer than the un-chipped Formers. But the things he had witnessed were his alone, and he had seen far more than anyone else could imagine. He had his lists of all the phenomena he had encountered, and all the things that had gone wrong. All that was left in his life was to keep adding to them.