7. Of Course It Was
The earthen wall collapsed, fully revealing the secret tunnel beyond. A squad of Blood Oats rushed in, guns and knives at the ready. They stormed down the tunnel, periodically punching the sides to check for more false walls.
“Clear! Send in a torch,” the leader yelled after a dozen feet. Another squad moved in behind the first, each member carrying torches.
“Find anything?” One of the members asked.
“Gonna make these fuckers bleed,” another said.
“Not yet. Tunnel might split. Pass me a torch."
They passed a torch forward until it reached the leader. As the torch reached the front of the group, the entire tunnel shuddered.
“BACK!” The leader yelled, trying to push through the confused crowd. “Move, fuck sakes, MOVE!”
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Pyro stood with both hands braced against the dirt in front of him, sweating profusely. His usually tan skin was almost white, his scraggly black beard seemingly drained of all color. I had to brace myself against anything I could as the tunnel shook uncontrollably. Dirt rained upon us as our ceiling caved in, opening us up to the sky above. A few rocks smacked into my shoulders and I got a mouth full of dirt, but that was about the only damage that any of us took.
I stepped onto the foot or so of dirt and rocks that had fallen and focused on summoning my slime next to me. I sent my slime up first, closely followed by Thwain.
“Dart into the trees, then circle back. Run through the clearing a few times, but don’t get caught,” I told it. It bounded off with glee. I scrambled up and out, pistol in hand, as Pyro sank down and put his back against the side of the hole.
Thwain had already slunk off, moving between the trees. I backed up from the shack and put my back against a tree, my head on a swivel the entire time. I peeked out, looking at our secret hideout. It had been absolutely demolished. The walls were askew and riddled with a hundred bullet holes. The gang members had obviously peppered the poor thing to within an inch of its life. A twenty-foot stretch of ground leading out from the shack was sunken about four feet down from where our escape tunnel had collapsed.
My slime bounded in from between some trees, rampaging through the remnants of the shack. Three shots rang out as it jumped by. I gripped my pistol tighter. There was scrambling from within the shack.
“Shit, a monster?” Someone yelled.
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“How in the Tower do they have one of those?” A second voice yelled.
“In!” I yelled at my slime, rushing around the shack before darting in towards it. I saw Thwain do the same, flanking from the other side of the shack.
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Boing! SHHHHHLAP!
My slime landed like a meteor in the first hole that Pyro made in the center of the shack. Cursing and a single gunshot rang out, followed by more cursing. Thwain and I rushed in, aiming our guns as best we could and opening fire on the two remaining gang members. They were huddled to one side of the hole, pointing knives at the slime threateningly. Two evidently empty pistols lay at their feet.
I emptied my pistol into both men until my gun dematerialized into a puff of smoke. The poor bastards didn’t stand a chance. Thwain picked his shots more carefully, sending a single shot into each gang member before rushing off into the woods again to look for more stragglers. My slime got to work on cleaning up the bodies, taking far less time than last time. I scanned the forest, hunkering down to reduce my profile a bit. I only heard Thwain’s footsteps and the sucking and hissing of slimy, gooey acid.
I left Slimey to his work and went to see how Pyro was making out. The dumbass was snoring away in his hidey hole, using a rock as a pillow. Sighing, I left him to his nap and snuck around the forest for a bit, not finding anything or anyone of note.
A gunshot rang out in the distance. It had been over twenty minutes since I had set my slime to the task of body disposal. I booked it, hollering at my monster as I passed. “Let’s go, Slimey.” It bounded off after me dutifully. I would like to say that I gracefully pranced through the trees, but there were a lot more curses and a lot more crashing through branches than I would like to admit. Soon, I came upon Thwain standing above a small body, trying to dam a river of tears from flowing down his face.
I refused to look down. “Slimey, dispose,” I choked out. My slime gratefully agreed. Thwain stuck his arm out to stop it, but then he hesitated. He crumpled, sobbing into his hands.
“Nope,” I said. “I’m not looking, but you’re not stopping me.” It was a kid. It had to be. Of course it was. Fuck the gangs for sending kids on a hit. The Tower was punishing us for our victory in the worst way. The crumpled form was too small not to be. I turned right the fuck around. I wasn’t going to let it haunt my nightmares, it was already done. The Tower could fuck with Thwain all it wanted, I wasn’t going to let it mess with my head, too. My slime burbled in pleasure, causing bile to rise in my throat.
I pulled on Thwain until he got to his feet, then dragged him back to the remnants of the shack. We sat for a long moment in silence, neither of us talking. Eventually, my slime returned, sharking around for snacks. I unsummoned it, not wanting to be reminded of what we had done. I just kept telling myself over and over again that it was necessary and that it wasn’t our fault. It was the Tower’s sick sense of humor. It was the Blood Oats. It was the powerful that refused to help. It was the weak that refused to try. It was too much. It was all too much.
Over an hour passed before Pyro groggily climbed out of his hole.
“Alright, what did I miss?” He asked.
“Nothing,” both Thwain and I said in unison.
Pyro looked at us both in suspicion. His eyes widened a little, obviously noticing our ragged appearance and our red-rimmed eyes. He just nodded slowly and turned towards the jumble that used to be the shack.
“What’s next?” He asked. Thwain just grunted.
“We need to clean up,” I said. “Hide any and all traces of your geomancy.” At Pyro’s raised eyebrow, I elaborated. “If we took care of all of them, nobody knows what we can do. No need to leave them any hints. Cover up the mess. Pyro.”
Pyro groaned, but got to work, slowly raising dirt and covering any traces of the collapsed tunnel and both holes. He sluggishly moved foot by foot of earth until the area looked relatively normal. Meanwhile, I picked up a few guns and any other traces of the gang members, collecting them in a pile. By the time the clearing looked half normal again, the sun had gone and went, plunging us into darkness. We made our way into the woods, careful not to leave any tracks, until we found a good spot. Pyro created a small depression at the base of a large tree, hiding us a bit under its bulk. I threw the few pieces of blankets that I managed to salvage from the shack into the hole and tumbled in. I was asleep before the others had a chance to move in.