At the Wall


By Evan Drake


© 2020, Evan Drake, All Rights Reserved

A blood-red sun sat high in cloudless sky, its rays beaming
unblocked on the world like an unblinking eye. The winds were still as if the
whole world held its breath in anticipation. Miles of highway braiding its
surface lay abandoned. Its wilderness forgotten and alone. The only breaking of
the silence was a single tempestcycle tearing down the lonely highway.

            Slynthus
was on one last ride to rid the world of the great beast that had been
terrorizing the nearby towns. He opened up the throttle on his bike, getting
lost in the exhilaration as it approached top speed. How long had it been since
he raced down the highway like this? Not since his youth some 20-odd years ago.
Now that he was a grandfather, he preferred to play things safe usually.

            But not
today. Today, he couldn't afford to be safe. He couldn't take his time. Lives
were at stake and he could never forgive himself if he didn't make it in time. Even
knowing this, he took the risk of racing down the highway without a visor just
as he always did when he rode alone. His eyes and reflexes worked just fine and
they could use the warmup before the big battle. As advanced as the Tirandi's
technology was, he couldn't stand being dependent on it. Machines could be
broken or malfunction and one's skills needed to be adequate in order to make
up the difference. That was how he had survived as long as he did. Even though
he wore the latest in exosuit battle tech, his scaled body was all muscle. He
wasn't as strong or as large as he had been in his youth but still more than
capable of holding his own. While he couldn't see it, he knew his green scales
had begun to lose their color, another unfortunate sign of aging.

            Aging
wasn't all bad. He had plenty of pleasant life experiences. One of which was
meeting his wife. While he had a family, he was a warrior first and foremost. A
good warrior knew when their time had passed. After this, his time as the hero
would be done and the next generation could take over.

A cursory look at the fuel gauge
showed he was at a half tank. “Well, erring on the side of caution hasn't
gotten me very far." He tapped the green button on the console and gripped the
handle bars as the tempestcycle surged forward with greater speed than before.
If his reflexes had been any slower, he would've been thrown to the highway and
at that speed, turned into scaled paste.

His grip tightened further on the
handlebars. The last battle. Just the thought of it left him with mixed
feelings.  He desired to be with his
family, to watch his grandchildren grow old and perhaps have children of their
own, but he was also a warrior. His place was on the battlefield. Being there
felt right.

He quickly pushed the thought from
his mind. Now was not to time to daydream and stare at the horizon. There would
be time for that when he had won and peace restored.

            It only
took ten minutes to reach his destination, the small town of Pross. He quickly
switched off the hyperdrive and applied the brake until he slowed to a crawl.
This was to get a better look at the surrounding area and to keep the engine's
noise down so as not to alert the beast of his approach. Though, if it were
half as impressive as the reports described, it likely knew he was coming.

            The town was
hard to look at. The streets were decorated with gore, flaming vehicles, and wrecked
buildings. Never had he seen such wanton destruction. Periodically he looked
down at the scanner on the bike's console. But each time, the scanner showed
nothing. Not a single life form.

            Slynthus
swallowed the lead ball forming in his throat. Were there truly no survivors?
No resistance? He knew soldiers were stationed here. Surely, they were putting
up a fight? Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was false. If
there were a battle taking place, no doubt, he would hear it over the deafening
silence. Still, he continued on, refusing to give up hope.

Eventually, the radar sprang to
life, showing a large blip on its screen. It had to be the beast. No way that
was a Tirandi.

            He stopped
the bike and hopped off. He then synced the radar with his exosuit and gathered
his weapons from the side compartment.

            The radar
showed the beast was nearby and approaching quickly, so Slynthus hid in the
ruins of a nearby building, crouching low and aiming the barrel of his rifle
through a hole in the wall.

            He felt its
approach before he heard it. A low rumble felt deep in his bones. It shook the
ruins around him making him feel it could come down at any moment. He took slow
deep breaths to still his shaking hands. Fear was nothing new to him. Fear kept
his arrogance at bay and prevented him from making foolish decisions to claim
the kill. It was a tool just like any emotion. With practice, it could be
wielded.

            The sound
of the beast's steps came next. It's thundering footfalls echoed through the
abandoned streets. The shaking around Slynthus worsened as if the very planet
trembled in this creature's presence. He braced the rifle against his shoulder
then peered through the scope for signs of his enemy.

            He was not
prepared for what he saw. It looked like a Tirandi and yet it didn't. It was
too large for one. Easily twice Slynthus' height and three times as wide. It's
body was covered in jagged brown scales, spines thicker than his arm running
down its back all the way to its tail which looked more like a spiked club than
a bodily appendage. It's snout was much longer than that of a typical Tirandi
and filled with jagged teeth, dripping with blood.

            Slynthus' legs
began to shake. He nearly dropped the rifle as he stared at the creature lumbering
down the street. What was this thing and where did it come from? And most
importantly, was it alone?

            He supposed
the answers to his questions would have to come later. For now killing the
beast was all that mattered and all he cared about. Reaffirming his resolve, he
repositioned his rifle and took aim. The eyes or the throat were the ideal
targets. Hitting either one would severely cripple the beast and increase his chances.

            The beast
stopped walking. It pointed its massive snout in the air and sniffed. Slynthus
froze. There was no wind. The beast couldn't have caught his scent this
quickly, and especially not amidst all the blood and smoke.

            Just before
he could tell himself he was imagining things, the beast shot a look over its
shoulder. A single yellow eye locked onto his and he held his breath. A grin
slowly spread across its muzzle. There was no denying it; the beast saw him,
but how? He was hidden behind cover. Even if it heard him drive into the city,
it couldn't have known exactly where he was. In his peripheral, the heartbeat
monitor flashed red in his visor. He needed to calm down but he couldn't. Just
like he couldn't take his eyes off the monster before him.

            The beast
turned away and lumbered down the street. It wasn't until its steps receded
that Slynthus relaxed and started to breathe again. This was different from the
fear he felt before his other battles. He was actually glad the beast was
ignoring him. The heartbeat monitor slowly changed from red to yellow to green.

            He felt the
rumble beneath his feet again. Part of him wanted to run, but he quickly
squashed that feeling and raised his rifle for the third time. Since hiding was
no longer and option, he would fire the moment the beast came into view.

            The
rumbling of its steps grew closer. He waited with bated breath, finger on the
trigger. The thundering footfalls became louder.

            The beast
didn't come into view. Immediately, he knew something was wrong. The radar
showed it was practically on top of him. Did it have some kind of cloaking
ability? That would be a problem. Infrared wouldn't work in the middle of the
day especially not with all the fires around.        

Just as he considered turning on
the echo visor, a strange feeling shot up his spine. He spun around just in
time to see the beast crash through the wall. Unable to dodge, he held his arms
over his face as rubble pelted his body like shrapnel.

            Shield
capacity dropped to 85%. He lowered his arms only to find the beast had crossed
the distance between them. Before he could raise his weapon, it seized him in a
massive clawed fist. He pointed his rifle at the beasts face and fired. It was
only in one hand, but the proximity more than made up for the accuracy loss.

            The beast
roared in pain then began slamming him against the walls and ground. Warning!
flashed across his visor as the shield capacity was in freefall. Slynthus
managed to get his bearings and activate the suit's defenses.

            The pulse
of the suit was dazzling, and filled his vision. The beast roared again, only
this time he felt weightless. He opened his eyes and saw the beast moving away
from him rapidly. It looked like it was fleeing but then he realized it wasn't
moving, he was. His impromptu flight was interrupted by something. Likely a
window judging from the sound of shattering glass. The suit's shields didn't
hold out and his body was wracked with pain.

****

“Dad, wake up! What are you doing out here?"

            Slynthus
slowly opened his eyes to see his daughter, Argonry smiling down at him, the
sun haloing her face. She looked just as beautiful as she did the last time he
saw her. The same rustic-brown scales and gentle green eyes. Her smile that
made the sun's light look dim.

            Even as he
looked at her, he knew it wasn't right. His daughter was dead. Killed by
disease years ago. He reached up and touched her face. She felt real. He felt
the tears forming as he caressed her cheek. How many times had he wished for
this moment? How many times had he wanted to see his daughter again?

            Argonry
tilted her head. “Dad? Is something wrong?"

            “No,
everything's fine. I didn't mean to scare you." It didn't matter if she was
real or not. She was here now. That was all he needed to know. Not where he was
or how he got there. The beast didn't matter. He could spend the rest of his
time here.

            “Dad, it's
okay. I'm not mad." She chuckled and held out her hand. “Come on. You're going
to be late."

            Late for
what, he had no idea, but he took her hand. She hauled him to his feet with
surprising strength.

****

Slynthus looked around. Argonry was gone. The sun was gone,
replaced by artificial lighting. He stood in the middle of what looked like an
office. The desk had been destroyed. If he had to guess, he would say his
impact did it. Same for the hole in the floor. Below, the large window
overlooking the street was shattered.

            He heard
the rumble of the beast's footsteps again and his blood ran cold. He checked
his shields. It had recharged to 19% capacity while he was unconscious. It
wouldn't be enough. He looked around and noticed his rifle was missing. He knew
he had to have lost it when the creature had first grabbed hold of him.

            There was
no time to look for it. The beast was getting closer. Whether it was climbing
up the side of the building or taking the stairs or leaping up through the
floors, he didn't know, but he did know fighting here was a bad idea. In these
confined spaces it had the advantage.

            The biggest
problem was his lack of a proper weapon. He had the pulse blade, but engaging
that thing in melee was the last thing he wanted to do especially with his
shields low.

            Nothing for
it. He needed to buy time until his shields recovered and find a more suitable
weapon. Hiding like a coward left a bad taste in his mouth, but it was the best
he could do.

            Suddenly, a
massive clawed hand shot out of the floor. It grabbed Slynthus' leg before he
could register what happened and pulled him down to the floor below. The beast
wasted no time snatching him off the floor and slamming him into a nearby wall.
He drew his pulse blade and faced the creature.

            It swung
its fist, larger than his head, at him. He ducked under the blow hearing the
gust of air from the whiffed attack. He quickly took advantage of the opening,
lunging forward with the blade outstretched, aiming for where he hoped the
creature's heart would be. The lunging stab found its target, but the blade
didn't even sink an inch through its thick hide.

            Slynthus
had no time to reflect on the failure as another punch hit home. The shields
were depleted in a single blow, his visor cracked and showed several warnings.
He had no time to read them as the air rushed from his lungs and he felt
weightless again. This time he remained conscious as he flew through the thin
walls and slid along the floor.

It felt as if his suit and chest
had been caved in. The visor was cracked so its readings were hard to make out,
but it seemed several systems were heavily damaged. It was too difficult to see
with the visor on now, so he removed it then coughed as he struggled to take in
air.

            This
couldn't be real. He had never struggled like this before. He always had some
kind of plan. There was always an option. Something that he could do to see
himself through the trial and claim victory. Something in the environment or a
trait of the opponent he could exploit. But this thing seemed to have no
weaknesses and unless it was vulnerable to office supplies, he had no advantages.

With a loud groan, he sat up,
trying to ignore the searing pain in his torso. Likely a rib or two had been
cracked or even broken. Normally the suit would apply emergency first-aid in
the event of injury. That it wasn't doing it now meant that was one of the
broken features. Nothing he could do about it now, he figured. He would have to
make due through sheer wit and determination. There were too many counting on
him. The dead needed to be avenged and the living protected. That was his duty.

            He heard
the beast smashing its way through the walls and panic gripped him. A single
thought passed through his mind: he was going to die here. He was never going
to see his grandchildren or daughter-in-law ever again. He would never hold
them, play with them, or comfort them. They would be left to the mercy of this
monster, waiting for their failure of a grandfather to come home and rescue
them.

            Images
flashed before him, memories of his past. He tried to push them away, but they
remained. His happiest and saddest moments, and the emotions with them, flooded
him all at once. He burst into tears, not caring if anyone could see him or
even if it made him appear weak before his enemy. He couldn't die. Not here. Not
like this. No matter what it took, he had to see his grandchildren again. Hold
them and hear their voices one last time.

            The beast
stood over him, its jaws dripping with saliva, soulless eyes shining with glee.
Without his visor, he caught a whiff of its putrid breath. Slynthus held his
own and activated the thrusters. He shot across the floor and out the window. He
quickly adjusted his body so that he would land on his feet on the street
below.

A sharp pain radiated through his
ribcage, but there was no time to focus on that. It would be there soon and he
didn't plan to wait for its arrival. Reactivating the thrusters, he took off
into the air. The suit's thrusters were only meant for quick flights. The
furthest it would get him was to the edge of the city, but that wasn't his true
goal.

Thankfully, they hadn't moved too
far away from where he had parked the tempestcycle. He quickly set down on the
ground, hopped onto the bike, then started the engine. He rode off down the
street towards the nearest exit, activating the hyperdrive as he did so. There
was only enough fuel to take him halfway home, but it would put more than
enough distance between him and that beast as quickly as possible.

He didn't stop, didn't slow down,
and didn't look back. The buildings, the flames, the blood, it all shot past
him in a blur. The wind howled in his ears, but it couldn't drown out the
beasts roars nor the Tirandi calling his name as loudly as if they were beside
him. They cursed him, called him a failure, a coward, and he knew they were
right. He rode on until the bike ran out of fuel. Then he climbed off and
activated the suits thrusters again, taking flight for as long as he was able.
The thrusters carried him another quarter of the way there before it ran out.
Even still, he continued walking. There was no time. Every second, the beast
was drawing closer. There was no stopping it.

He needed to find his family before
that thing did and get them to safety. He hated himself for being this weak.
For taking the path of cowards and the selfish to save his family and skin. The
voices of those he failed rang loudly in his ears all the way home.