[Original Novel] Metal Fever 2: The Erasure of Asherah, Part 48
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24
Part 25
Part 26
Part 27
Part 28
Part 29
Part 30
Part 31
Part 32
Part 33
Part 34
Part 35
Part 36
Part 37
Part 38
Part 39
Part 40
Part 41
Part 42
Part 43
Part 44
Part 45
Part 46
Part 47
At last, stillness and quietude. There wasn’t anything like the exhilaration of victory. I only felt gutted as I surveyed the full extent of the carnage. The chieftess joined me. “Who did this?” I asked.
“Some of my scouts came upon a sort of shipyard, just a short ways inland from the coast. Built into a mangrove swamp, the ocean is accessible from there by a deep canal they must’ve dug.” A shipyard? I asked her to describe it more completely.
“The scouts...were followed back to our village. But before the men with guns came and began killing, the scouts told me that some sort of preparation goes on there. Many white men with crazed eyes, trembling always. They package up white sand. Sharp little pieces, like broken glass. Then they put it into the boat.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Criddlers? Even out here? If they’re Crazy Dave’s men, it wouldn’t surprise me. Very little could surprise me at this point, after the events of the past few days. I knelt and picked up the helmet of the man I shot.
It bore an etched logo of some sort on the sides. A crucifix surrounded by the outline of a flame. No fuckin’ way. Really? Apparently I ruled out Remnants a bit too quickly earlier. These fuckers lost the civil war but never stopped fighting, hiding out in the ever-swelling GMO jungle that’s engulfed even formerly arid states.
Still, to find them in South America…? What the hell are they up to way out here? The ferns rustled, about ten yards from us. I trained my gun on them, only to lower it when a group of surviving villagers cautiously emerged.
The chieftess embraced them one at a time, and cried with them. I could summon no tears. Not for lack of feeling! On the contrary my heart felt like a tempest in a teacup. Rather I still felt dumbstruck and painfully sobered by the experience of killing for the first time.
Once the dead were buried and the fires put out, I told the chieftess of my visions. Of the beautiful apparition I’d spent the last few days cavorting with. She seemed wholly unsurprised. Still preoccupied with the attack of course, but there was something else. A mixture of indifference and irritation.
“Of course. You partook of the sacrament, so she came. She always comes when we drink.” It all just rolled off her tongue like it was the most self-evident fact in the world. Like I was some sort of stunted invalid for presuming to inform her of it.
Maybe I am? I don’t know. They must’ve done that ceremony what, thousands of times? Still, difficult to express even a fraction of what I felt to a people for whom the impossible is a routine occurrence. So much so as to be banal if it weren’t sacred.
“Where did you run off to that night?” the chieftess demanded. “Had you stayed, you might’ve-” I showered her with apologies, confessing that I’d simply been terrified by an encounter with something wholly outside the realm of my experience.
She seemed somewhat placated. I added that I was never very far away, given the walk back took less than an hour. “My VTOL crashed nearby. I’m surprised you didn’t see it.” I had to describe what I meant by VTOL, but her eyes soon lit up in recognition as I did so.
“Oh! The flying metal things. One of those landed close by the morning after you fled the ceremony.” I frowned, and set about narrowing down the possibilities. Could Remnants get ahold of their own VTOL? They sure as hell can’t build one.
That’s not their style, based on what little I knew of Remnants from documentaries. They live underground, to evade thermal imagers. It’s speculated their bunkers and burrows are sealed, that they’ve rigged scrubbers to purify the air inside. Otherwise the gas storms would get ‘em.
They emerge from those tunnels and chambers only to travel, and then only beneath the jungle canopy. Their apparent operation of a meth lab in the mangrove swamp could explain the degree of recklessness they would need to hijack a VTOL and fly it during the day.
I looked up to find the chieftess squeezing out one of those strange, bulbous pods onto her wounds. The juice exhibited the usual healing effect. All the other surviving villagers were busy doing the same.
I took this opportunity to bring up my swollen leg. She winced. “Have you tried to treat it?” I confirmed that I made use of the first aid kit I found in the crashed VTOL. “What have you been eating then? Garbage I’ll wager, if your body can’t even fight off this infection despite that treatment.”
I groaned. “You sound just like her. Asherah, I mean.” It only pleased her to hear that. “My dad too” I added. “He never shuts up about how what people these days really need is good, wholesome organic meals in their bellies.”
She shrugged. “He’s right. Sounds like a smart guy. I wonder why you didn’t inherit that quality from him.” Just outside, villagers were still hard at work regenerating the charred fronds comprising the outer skin of each hut.
“Listen, this isn’t over. If I know criddlers...and I’m afraid to say that I know them all too well...they won’t take this lying down. They’ll be back, and in greater numbers. You can’t deal with these guys the way you dealt with the missionaries or aid workers. There is no gentleness in them. Their hearts are nothing but fire, hatred and speed.”
She asked what I planned to do about it. “I need you to level with me about where all this GMO plant tech came from. I can tell you guard that information closely, but hopefully you agree circumstances warrant sharing it with me. What are the limits? Can you make guns out of it?” She looked troubled and reluctant for a moment.
“Non-lethal weapons are fine” I clarified. “I just need something with stopping power. Do you just plant seeds for each type of tool or weapon? Are there specific seeds for every-” She abruptly stood, took me by the hand and led me to a hut tucked away at the edge of a pond.
Inside was something I’d not yet seen. Some kind of undulating, veiny mass of green plant flesh streaked with purple stains. “So...what? This is what the seeds come out of?” Once again she didn’t bother explaining. Then again, this was the sort of thing that must be seen to be understood.
She took my pistol, and extended it towards a massive egg shaped bulb at the top of the mass. Its roots, dug into the soft dark soil beneath us, writhed in recognition. The bulb then peeled open like the petals of a flower.
The chieftess placed the pistol into the center of the open petals. Slowly, they folded shut. Nothing happened for a little bit, until the hideous thing started to churn and pulsate. I’d estimate ten to fifteen minutes passed.
Finally, the petals reopened. There in the center was a brand new plant based device which I have no basis of comparison for. A large opening at one end seemed about the right diameter for my forearm. The small opening at the other end, presumably, is what I was meant to point at enemies.
“Wait, where’d my pistol go?” I inquired. The chieftess assured me I wouldn’t need it anymore. I was considerably less sure of that. When she instructed me to insert my hand into the larger of the two openings, I became exponentially less certain any of it was a good idea.
The opening smelled faintly of freshly cut grass. It looked moist, the interior a light purple mottled with pink blotches. Small tendrils about an inch long lined the opening and waved feebly to and fro as if reaching for my arm.
“I ain’t sticking my arm in that thing” I stated, on no uncertain terms. I mean, I’ve stuck my appendages in some dubious places before. But for fuck’s sake, a guy’s got to draw the line somewhere.
Is this how they made all of their tools? This...organic copier? But I saw them planting seeds on the day I first arrived in the village. Indeed, there were translucent sacks of seed pods suspended from the inner wall of the hut.
Stay Tuned for Part 49
Remnants living underground? Who are they? I’m glad he was there, thanks to him they are saved since they don’t carry any weapons. At least for now, but as he mentioned, they will come back.
I realize that every time I love the Sci-fi and that I should give it a chance in my life.
Thank you for being part of this and I look forward to the next chapter.
I noticed a certain zeal on the part of the boss when he told her about his experience with Asherah! Although this is normal among them, maybe someone from outside can be taken with some caution. Although in our reality some plants have healing power, I am surprised by the power of those particular healing pods, not to mention the fact that they are used as weapons. A whole new and wonderful world, though fictitious, opens up before my eyes. Greetings
Wonderful writing.