Acid Reign : Genesis

Gus navigated the heavy transport along the broken highways of the Fringe with ease. His nervous attention to every detail of the terrain and the worry of everything that could go wrong usually made for as smooth a ride as possible.

Lights on one of the launchers Gus had mounted before they left lit up as a burst of air drove one of the sensors into the ground. The monitors in the cab flickered, then pinged, displaying movement three hundred yards behind them.

“You called it,” Gus said as he hit Ripp in the arm.

“I think we should stop by the ’ol waterpark.”

Gus looked over at Ripp.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“How far do you think it is?”

“Up ahead. You think it’s another runner?”

“No. Whoever it is, I’m sure it has something to do with those soldiers from the other day.”

After a couple of miles, Gus turned off the main road and passed by a faded sign that read, North Clackamas Water Park.

Four Nucrean soldiers were crammed inside a transport. They all fell into each other as the vehicle hit a big pothole.

“Shit, private! Those dark spots on the grid are holes,” the captain said as he maneuvered back into his seat. “So avoid them.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

“Private Allen tries to hit as many holes as he can sir,” Private Gray said.

The group laughed.

Allen looked down at the grid and saw that Ripp and Gus had changed direction. “Cap. Targets changed direction. Headed east, north-east. Orders?”

“Well, soldier, follow them.”

“Sir.”

The captain noticed the tension and anxiety building in the young soldier, and remembered his first time in the Fringe.

“Take a deep breath and relax. Just keep following, go where they go, and stop when they stop. Just not right next to them. Copy?”

“Sir,” Allen said with renewed confidence.

“And Private?”

“Sir?”

“Watch the holes,” the captain said with a smile.

“Sir.”

Private Gray sat back in his seat and looked over at Corporal Alvarez, who was staring out of the small window in the rear door.

Alvarez had been out in the Fringe a handful of times with his father, but never this far. He watched the terrain change from a smooth level road with barren tundra on either side to a cityscape of destruction.

“Doesn’t feel right.”

“The Fringe never feels right, Corporal,” said the captain with a reassuring tone.

Alvarez saw old transports that were piles of rusted metal and shredded fiberglass. Most buildings had been reduced to rubble, but there were a few scattered that held their frames. Surprisingly, a couple of buildings looked intact. Those were the vaults of the Runners. Alvarez wanted to be a Runner before he joined the Nucrean Guard. He still dreamed of what it would be like to walk around the floors of one of these buildings, stepping through a portal into another time.

Private Gray noticed the trance Alvarez was in and looked out his own window to see what he was looking at.

“They’re slowing down. Keep your distance, Private.” The captain swiveled the display around to his side and zoomed in on an incomplete model of the area. He watched Ripp and Gus’s tracer as it navigated through the destruction effortlessly, and tried to ignore the growing warning inside his gut.

He convinced himself that there was nothing to worry about. Their orders were simple, eliminate the runners by any means. His men were well trained, and two unsuspecting runners, focused on the dangers of the Fringe, shouldn’t be a problem.

“We should shoot up now, while we have a head start.”

“Didn’t you shoot up before we left port?”

“Never be too careful,” Ripp said with a smile.

“Now, I’m just saying this because I care, but I think you have a problem, Ripp.”

“Not a radiation problem,” Ripp said.

Gus wasn’t used to Ripp justifying the overuse of the radiation stims. Usually he would just ignore the prods, but justifying it, even in joking, verified the suspicion Gus had.

“You should talk. Can’t be worse than living on Johnny’s liquor,” Ripp said defensively.

As much as Gus wanted to address the issue, he knew he couldn’t argue with that. A click and hiss echoed through the transport as they both injected their necks with a bright liquid from small metal vials.

Gus pulled off the main road and onto a narrow one that was bordered by rows of barren cement terraces. In front of them, filling the horizon, was the monstrous waterpark.

The fifteen-acre spaghetti bowl of waterslides, tide pools and splash pads remained intact after the Fissure. Dried out dust-filled pools surrounded an enormous building. In some of the pools there were large sections of slides missing, but huge, rusted, jagged metal frames of playgrounds remained.

Gus slowed and parked in one of the shallow pools next to the main building. Filling the four-story building were more tubes, slides, and play areas. Shining from under many of the slides was a faint white glow that gently cut through the rusted orange fog of the Fringe.

Growing in the dust, under the canopy of rusted slides, were thousands of white, luminescent lilies. No one could explain how these flowers survived or what made them glow. In certain areas, Runners would find them in small groupings, maybe four or five at a time, but here there were thousands.

“Let’s do this quick,” Ripp said.

They moved to the back of the transport and Ripp typed in the code on a panel. The cargo bay opened. Inside, there were a dozen different tech tools and gear strapped to the walls along with two large cases bolted to the floor.

Gus helped Ripp put on a full view rad-helmet. The air filter and oxygen tank were on the backside of it. The front was a solid glass shield. Ripp looked down at his Pigeon and saw that the transport that had been following them was only a half-mile away.

“We gotta hurry,” Ripp said.

Ripp latched his helmet in place and turned the glow light on. After Ripp helped him with his helmet, Gus turned on his two-way radio and motioned for Ripp to do the same.

“You think they know that we know they’re following us?” Gus asked.

“No, they would have come at us right when we stopped. They’re still hanging back.”

Ripp grabbed a submachine gun from one of the cases and threw the strap around his shoulder. Gus grabbed his signature semi-auto shotgun with the shortened barrel and holstered a large revolver. He took a rectangular locking mechanism off the wall and put it in his pack.

“I have an idea,” Gus said as he put a small canister of oil in his pack. He slung the bag around his shoulder, hefted the shotgun and put a hand on the side door of the transport.

“Ready?” he asked and turned to find a definitely ready Ripp, who motioned impatiently for Gus to open the door.

The door flew open. A rush of dust and thick orange-hued air bellowed into the transport as Gus and Ripp hopped out. They ran to a broken wall on the side of the main building. The open part of the wall led to a set of stairs leading down below the lobby floor. The stairwell was dark and damp but the luminescent flowers growing in the corners gave enough light to see the steps.

They slowed as they came to the bottom of the stairs and stopped at an iron gate. Black water filled both sides of a cement walkway that ran under the gate and continued down a dark corridor. Short, faint moans and banging gently echoed from an opening near the end of the hallway.

Gus and Ripp turned down the lights in their helmets.

“Ready?” Ripp asked.

The captain pointed to where Ripp and Gus’s transport had stopped just outside the main building. “Hold up.”

Private Allen slammed on the breaks throwing everyone forward, and making the captain drop the holo-map he was holding.

“Geesh Allen,” Gray said, hitting him on the side of the head.

“Sorry, Sir.”

“It’s fine, just get your head right,” said the captain calmly as he grabbed the holo-map from the floor. “Hats on, guys.” He pointed at a broken section of one of the slides that had fallen and was laying on its side. “Private, pull up just left of the big tube there. That should be out of their line of sight if they happen to come back out before we are set.”

“What’s with the glow?” Private Gray asked, pointing at the white aura underneath the structures.

“I see it, too,” Allen replied with anxiety in his voice.

“They’re flowers,” Alvarez answered with an unexpected reverence.

The captain and the group all looked at Alvarez.

“Flowers in the Fringe?” Gray asked.

Allen eased into the accelerator and headed to the fallen slide piece.

“They grow out here. Usually in small patches,” Alvarez answered, remembering what his dad told him.

“Can’t worry about flowers right now, boys. You can pick some for your lady friends or for each other if you want when we’re done,” the Captain said, trying to get them to focus.

The captain, Gray and Alvarez quickly geared up and were ready as Allen brought the transport to an overly cautious stop.

“Alvarez on point, Allen you’re on six.” The captain checked his rifle and tucked a small walnut-sized Skynut drone into one of his vest pouches. Alvarez and Gray checked their rifles while Allen secured his helmet and pulled his pistol from a holster on the door.

The Captain looked around checking his team and saw that they were ready.

“Let’s move.”

The bright lights in the transport faded into a deep red glow as the doors opened. They all exited and quickly formed a fire-team line at the edge of the eight-foot-tall broken section of the water slide. Alvarez motioned for them to advance. They moved smoothly across the empty wading pool and after checking the other transport, and finding it locked, moved quickly to the broken wall. They stopped at the lobby, and as they were checking the corners of the room, they heard a faint banging coming from downstairs.

Alvarez looked around, quickly pointed down the stairwell and advanced with the rest of the team following closely behind. They made their way down the stairs and came to a long hallway. The banging started again, and this time it was much louder. Alvarez motioned for the team to hold, and after the banging stopped, proceeded down the corridor.

Alvarez slowly scanned the hallway with his gun-light. A system of pipes on the ceiling ran the length of the hall and then disappeared into the wall. Alvarez used his light to show everyone the black water on both sides of the cement walkway that also ran down the corridor. The walkway was narrow, and a couple of sections seemed to disappear in the water, but it was solid.

They came to the iron gate. Alvarez checked for trip wires or traps and signaled to the rest of the team that it was clear. As they moved forward, a faint light came from a hole in the wall near the end of the hallway. Alvarez pointed to it and signaled for direction from the captain, who reached in his pocket and pulled out a small drone with Skynut painted on the side. He entered a sequence into the monitor on his wrist, and the drone unfolded. After he gently tossed it up, the drone fell a couple of inches then stabilized as the propellers gripped the air. He pointed at the small drone, then pointed down the hall. Immediately, the drone turned and made its way to the open section at the end of the hall.

The captain looked down at a small monitor and saw shadows overlapping and mixing with each other.

“Gotta be some kind of hideout for the renegades. Must be dozens,” the captain whispered in the coms. “I’ll take lead now, Alvarez.”

The captain moved forward, rifle ready, and walked out onto the concrete walkway. He crouched, and then motioned for his team to follow. They moved through the doorway, slowly approaching the hole in the wall. The Captain motioned to hold as he moved right next to the drone. He pointed at it then pointed to the hole.

The drone flew through the opening and stopped at the end of a tunnel that led to a huge underground cavern. Hundreds of yellow lights embedded in the walls illuminated a vast underground community. Fringers dotted every landing, every nook, and every path. There were hundreds of them. The Skynut drone tried to focus, but light was too low for a detailed view.

“Too many to take on,” the captain whispered into the coms. “We need to head back. We know the location now.”

The captain looked down at his monitor and saw half of a mutated face staring blankly at the drone. “Quietly, back to the transport NOW,” he said louder this time, motioning repeatedly for the soldiers to go.

“What’s going on Cap?” Gray asked quietly.

“Just move,” he replied.

“Move, move, move,” the captain whispered.

“Fringers,” Alvarez said clearly for everyone to hear.

Just as the team turned around and headed back, the door slammed shut making a monstrous sound that shook the walls.

“What the hell, rookie!” Gray said, before noticing that Allen was nowhere near the door. Realizing that it hadn’t been any of them, they all flashed a light at the doorway and saw the newly added lockbox and the dim silhouette of a soaking wet Gus and Ripp rushing up the stairs.

“Get that door open,” the captain barked, as he turned around. He saw a group of shadows running right at them.

The muzzle flash of the captain’s rifle illuminated the broken hallway, showing the horrible state of the feral humans. Their faces were patchworks of sores and bruises. Their eyes were bright yellow and seemed larger than they should have been. Some open wounds and sores oozed with infection. Their tattered clothing seemed irrelevant.

The soldiers’ gunfire echoed and shook the hallway. One Fringer fell, then another, and then another as Alvarez and Gray joined the captain in firing on the group.

“How’s that lock coming?” the captain yelled.

“We don’t have cutting tools,” Allen replied.

“Shoot it!”

Allen leaned at an angle to avoid a direct ricochet. His pistol fired but didn’t make a scratch.

“Bulletproof.”

“Keep trying!”

“More!” Alvarez screamed.

The growing Fringer group barreling through the opening now blacked out the light from the broken hallway. The muzzle flashes strobed through the pitch-black corridor, making it look like an old movie.

“Changing.”

The Fringer group was thinning, but there seemed to be more shadows spilling out of the opening in the wall. The captain pulled his grenade off his vest, activated it and tossed it as close to the opening as he could. Gray and Alvarez continued to mow down the Fringers until the explosion.

Boom!

Debris, blood and Fringer parts flew in every direction. Other than a couple of disoriented Fringers that made easy targets, the horde was down.

His team shot the remaining stragglers. He had hoped that the blast would have closed off the opening to the tunnel, but it hadn’t.

“You guys good?”

A collective “good”, sounded muffled and inhuman, but was reassuring.

Gray tossed his rifle to Allen, who immediately began hammering the box with the butt of the gun. The box loosened a bit, but held firm. He used the barrel of the gun as a lever to try to free it, but it wasn’t coming off.

Air rushed down the corridor. The floors and walls shook as a rumble grew to a roar. The light in the hallway went dark.

“More!”

The bullets hit their marks, but the group was much bigger this time and no matter how many they shot, the horde was still coming.

“How’s that door coming?” Alvarez asked this time.

“Not coming,” Allen replied.

Gray quickly drew his pistol as his last magazine emptied. The captain was out of his last magazine and resorted to his pistol as well.

Alvarez stopped shooting. He looked back at Allen who was still hammering away at the lockbox, and felt bad for the kid. This wasn’t the way to go. He unhooked his grenade, pulled the pin, and ran into the horde.

“NO!” the captain yelled.

Alvarez dove into the shadows. The explosion was too close. A flying Fringer body hit the captain, and pinned him to the floor. Allen was thrown hard against the door knocking him unconscious.

Gray was in the front of the team and absorbed the main part of the blast. His armor was ripped from his arms and legs. One hand was missing. His helmet had been shattered, leaving shards of glass embedded into his face. It was a quick death for him.

Everything was dark. The gun lights and headlamps had all shattered. Allen could hear the rumble of Fringers making their way to the corridor. Moving was excruciating, as he felt around for his pistol. He couldn’t locate it. He felt his knife still in its sheath, but couldn’t seem to get a solid grip on the handle. His hands wouldn’t work.

He heard a grunt, followed by a scraping, then a splash, then another grunt, followed by another splash. Something was picking up the bodies and was tossing them into the water that ran alongside the walkway. He could only imagine what was able to do that with such ease. The splashes got closer and closer as his vision started to adjust to the darkness. He could make out a huge silhouette against the faint light coming from the broken wall at the end of the corridor. He looked up at the locking mechanism, reached up slowly and pushed against it.

His heart sank as he felt that the locking box was still very much attached. He looked back to the monstrous shadow relentlessly making its way through the mass of bodies. There was nowhere to run and his knife wouldn’t be enough to stop whatever it was that was coming, but he pulled it from its sheath anyway.

The shadow paused. Heavy breathing filled the corridor. Allen didn’t know if it belonged to him or the monstrous shadow coming towards him.

Allen’s head fell and hit the ground hard. The ringing started again and a bright empty light filled his eyes. He felt the cement below him begin to tear his gear as he was dragged toward the end of the corridor. Through his cracked helmet visor, he could make out a hunched mass of muscle charging with a sideways gate right to the lighted hole dragging him effortlessly like a weightless doll. He tried to reach the massive hand that was crushing his ankle, but he was immediately yanked forward, causing him to fall back hitting his head again.

A low rumble of chanting thundered in the air, as he was pulled closer to the hole. Something sharp cut through his gear and ripped into his side. His scream seemed to intensify the chanting.

He could feel his armor filling with blood. His vision blurred and he could no longer struggle against the Fringer’s grip. He lay back, ignoring the jostling and banging of his helmet against the ground, and focused on the small hypnotizing lights passing above him.

There was an enormous cavern filled with layers of uneven makeshift shanties that littered the walls and created multiple levels. Fringers of all ages and sizes dotted as far as he could see.

“Children,” he said to himself.

He didn’t want to believe it, but it made sense. They had managed to survive for generations underground. He imagined people running to the basement after the Fissure, seeking refuge, and stumbling across this cavern. Considering the primal state of the cavern’s citizens, the lights and shanties had to be a contribution of generations long past.

The Fringer tossed him through the air. The cavern lights danced around him then disappeared into darkness as the spinning cavern came to a sudden and violent stop. He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear the chanting all around him. He was confused as sharp tugs and pulls on his body began, and then the horrible realization of being eaten crept into his mind, just as a large rock slammed down on his helmet.

Ripp gave a thumb’s up to an excited Gus, who was climbing in the driver’s seat of the soldier’s transport.

“Gunfire stopped,” Gus pointed out.

“Lasted longer than I thought it would,” Ripp replied.

“They were kind enough to leave the keys,” Gus said as he started the engine.

“It’s got a perpetual drive,” Gus yelled.

“That’s great, but you know you can’t drive it back into Nucrea, let alone sell it?”

“You let me worry about that. There’s a place I can store it, until I can break her down.”

“That’s all you, brother.”

“More credits for me,” Gus shot back.

“Now that all the fun is over, should we get back to work?”

Ripp checked the gauges and rerouted the navigation system.

“Lead on,” Gus said.

Ripp finished logging an environmental scan into the transport’s system, backed up and turned back down the narrow road, with Gus beaming in his new transport behind him.