Zion

Chapter 8

 The weeks that follow are a barrage of fight simulations, pain, recuperation, and sun-scorched treks up mountainsides to prolific views of barren expanses which turn to glistening orange hues, as though someone has sprinkled cinnamon on the horizon and allowed for possibility and a clear, warm journey ahead.

On their umpteenth journey up the jagged side of the mountain, in which Lucile lives, Acera turns to her as oos sips down a refreshing cascade of water from a canteen.

“Why do you bring me up here? Surely it isn’t for the training anymore.”

“Look out past the ridge and tell me what you see?” Lucile says, pointing out into the distance.

“I see the horizon.”

“And?”

“Well, that’s it. There isn’t anything more.”

“Oh, there’s more alright,” she says and carefully sits down on a rock beside Acera, “there’s much, much more.”

Acera ponders these words; they seem to hold more than the mere call to continue on with the quest which oos started out on. There is something sinister to the landscape which darkens now that a siege of blackness rolls through the sky and thunders in the distance. Lightning flickers and strikes randomly at who knows what. There is an arsenal of raindrops pelting the earth far off, but none of it seems to be coming this way; the land Acera stands on is dry and desolate. Acera takes another sip.

“I assume that my training is coming to an end,” Acera utters, still staring out.

“You assume correctly. We shall disembark on the dawn of the morrow.”

“And what about that favour I owe you?”

“I will help you to obtain what you can and cannot see, your job will simply be to do as I tell you, when I tell you. Do not allow that to plague your mind for the time being though.” Lucile plants her wobbly feet on the ground, wraps her shawl so as to cover her nose and mouth, she considers Acera for a short while then climbs to her feet. Her knees creak, but she does not complain. She says no more and merely waddles down the slope and heads for the hut.

Acera moves from the ledge, rests against a large boulder and pulls out the book with the letter safely inside.

If you are still reading then it means that you have likely decided to take up the torch I offer and are heading my way. I do warn you though, you are on a trail of no return. What you encounter and experience will change everything you have come to know. Nothing is as it ever was, or as it was intended to be.

You will experience many of humanity’s greatest accomplishments which in turn revealed themselves to be their biggest failures. Do not be alarmed though; there is still hope, so long as you carry it with you. Disregard those who tell you to abandon all hope, they have merely delved so long into the dark that they have forgotten the warmth that the light can bring. My goodwill is with you. I await your arrival.

The sun bears through the windows and Acera knows that it is time to begin preparing for the journey ahead. It has finally come, the day of departure. Acera walks over to the table and finds a breakfast of the finest measure; to the likings that oos has not yet witnessed. There are red and green grapes that burst like succulent capsules in Acera’s mouth. Acera slices a loaf of cornflower bread, spreads it with goat’s cheese and bites hungrily into it. A warm venison pie follows with its meat as hearty and fresh as can be. After, oos washes it down with crystal clear water and finally sucks the sweet nectar from a bright red apple.

Acera washes oos’ face in a basin of water and suits up. The suit sits snuggly and Acera has become highly familiar with it now. The only downside which it has is that although it attempts to interact fully with oos’ biology, it does not quite allow for effective camouflaging, but what it lacks in smoke screening, it makes up for with all of its other capabilities. The best of these being the biomechanical guidance processor which interacts not only with the wearer's body, but takes into account the most likely follow up movements of attackers; something which Acera has almost managed to master.

Lucile comes through, wearing a tight-fitting tactical, black uniform and carries a helmet under her heavily tattooed arm. Her brow is sweaty and she breathes deeply as she walks over to a water dispenser and quenches her evident thirst. She seems stronger than usual with a hefty Vaporizer slung over her shoulder. Its stubby barrel shimmers and the charge is set to its highest.

“Expecting a warm welcome?” Acera says and points to the intrusive weapon.

“Just a precaution,” she says curtly and collects a few last items before exiting the dwelling, “Close the door on your way out.”

They load everything into the cargo hold of the clunky Grovler and Lucile heads up the ladder to the cockpit to fire up the engines. The large, rear door screeches closed and Acera is left in a pool of red light that emits from the beams above. Amidst the rest of the cargo, are two Caliber 300’s. Sleek, khaki coloured, one-man vehicles shaped like the archaic metal bullet and are covered in a scale-like armor; making them the vipers of this desert land. They hover inches above the ground and their anti-reflective bodies make them nearly impossible to spot as they sore across the mirage.

Acera reaches the cockpit as the old thrusters cough to life and propel them into the air.

“Buckle up, titan.”

Lucile makes a few adjustments on the controls and the rattle-cage hurtles forward and the mountain slowly fades back into the distance as they head along the sandy sea toward the promised oasis. An orange glisten erupts on the left side of the Grovler’s body and the aircraft plummets dozens of feet as Lucile attempts to steady them. Warning lights flash across the interface and it is apparent that one of the thrusters has taken a hit. Flames rush forth from the engine, but are extinguished immediately as the computer shuts the air valves on the damaged thruster.

“What was that?” Acera explodes with irritation and fear.

“Come on baby, don’t fail me now!” Lucile mutters to the Grovler and grips the controls tightly.

Another explosion is felt overhead, followed by a third which causes a cable to burst overhead, sending sparks flying all over the cabin.

“We’re taking fire!” Lucile shouts and does her best to maintain a hold of the beaten ship. Her veins stand out in her neck and perspiration dribbles down her leather face. “Get up there and shoot at whatever fucker dares to attack my ship.”

A ladder drops from the ceiling and a hatch opens above. Acera rushes to oos’ feet and clambers up the rungs to a confined turret gun above. Oos sits on the broken seat and a visor lowers in front of oos. Acera swivels the box-shaped space around to get a clear view of their pursuers. The guns finally make their way around to face the rear and Acera holds oos’ breath when oos sees that they are being tailed by not one, but two airborne Gamma 5 vehicles, carrying at least ten Perfects. The two vehicles zigzag like dragonflies flitting across a flourishing pond. With the Gamma 5s being far superior in speed, maneuverability, and firepower, the situation does not look as though it will last long for the Grovler.

Aboard one of the Gamma 5s is Alpha 1821 who is joined by nine Foxtrot members. By chance, the Grovler which picked up A7173 decided to show its head as they were running a sweep of the nearby mountain ranges. Usually, Foxtrots are responsible for hunting down and disposing of Homo sapiens, but to them, a Perfect, intended for decommissioning, who went to the extra length of removing oos’ own chip, will be as easy to hunt and kill as any brainless ape.

Acera takes aim and fires off a few rounds of the older style laser guns, which miss their mark by a long shot. Another barrage of blasts pound against and shake the Grovler, which chokes along and is now flying at a disconcerting angle, making it that much harder for Acera to aim.

“Are you going to hit anything?” Lucile’s voice shrieks up into the torrent.

“I’m trying! Their movements are too rapid; it’s impossible to get a lock,” Acera exclaims over the high-pitched sound of the lasers slicing through the air and nothing else. The left wing erupts after the other thruster is hit by the Gamma 5s and the Grovler hurtles toward a dune ahead.

“Move!” Lucile orders, leaps from her seat at the controls and heads down to the cargo hold.

Acera lets off a few more rounds, some of which meet their marks. Oos races after Lucile who is already lowering the rear ramp. She puts on her helmet, slides into one of the Caliber 300’s and ignites the engine.

“As soon as the door opens, we –”

The Grovler runs into the sand and Acera is thrown across the room. Oos slams into the other Caliber and struggles to get inside. The cargo door jams as soon as they crash and now there is no means of making a speedy escape. The two of them need to fight their way out. Acera tries to take the Vaporizer off of Lucile, but instead of releasing it, she points to a sealed unit near the ladder, that houses weapons.

Acera rips the door open, picks up a rocket launcher and clambers to the rear of the ship. Outside, the other Perfects have begun their descent, assuming that the two will now be easy pickings. Acera eases into a prime position, braces for the force of the launch and fires. The rocket flies out past the Gammas, reignites and soars miles into the air. A1821 and the Foxtrots in oos’ transport, dash out of the Gamma 5 trying to get out of the blast radius as the rocket plummets back down. Before impact, the rocket actives its reverse thrusters, slows drastically and explodes mid-air – sending a rain of smaller explosives over both Gamma 5 vehicles. Acera stands from oos’ crouched position and there is almost nothing left to be seen outside. The ships are skeletal remains of what they were only a few seconds ago. One of the crews lie scattered, like charred fleshy crumbs and the remaining Perfects flail about, trying to orientate themselves. Now is their only opportunity. They have to leave before the Perfects are back on their feet and ready to attack once again. Acera takes hold of the manual crank to release the door, turns with all oos’ remaining strength, but nothing happens. The crash has caused the internal mechanisms to jam completely and the heat from the explosion has made it far too hot to try and push open.

Noticing Acera struggle, Lucile calls out to oos and points, “We go that way.”

Acera is perplexed by the suggestion to head back up to the flight deck, which is now engulfed in flames. Lucile’s tone, however, suggests something else, something entirely outlandish. She wants them to go through the front of the Grovler.

“You’re insane,” Acera says and doubtfully climbs into oos’ Caliber.

“You know how to drive one of these?” Lucile chokes out through the increasing levels of smoke.

“No idea,” Acera admits, feels the foot controls and takes hold of the steering stick.

“Let’s go!” she says and fires off two explosions which create a hole in the ship.

Acera locates the trigger of oos’ own vehicle and follows suit. Oos punches the accelerator and hurtles forward into the blazing furnace.