Dream Drive Ch. 07

"Jackson, we're going to be left behind," Vuntha said.

"You'll make it back up later."

Vuntha glanced down at his moccasins. He was wearing thicker ones than normal, usually meant for winter. They were covering up the metal jump trainers that were bound to the underside of his ankles.

Katran and Boonta stopped, too. They were a few dozen yards ahead. "Are you two cowards going to run, or shall we leave you behind?!" Boonta shouted.

"What's the matter?" Jackson called back. "You want to hold hands?"

"Face us like men!"

"You guys are gonna lose if you keep waiting!" Jackson said.

"Then what are you doing?!"

"Hey, Katran!" Jackson called. "Didn't you say something about winning that flower thing?! You won't be able to make up the points at this rate!"

Katran's head swiveled to the retreating pack. All four of them were rapidly being left in the dust. He looked back at Jackson. "Is this how you plan to fight? By running away?!"

"We'll fight later! You just keep running!"

"We will settle this now!" Boonta shouted.

"You're losing points!"

Katran growled, turned, and smacked Boonta's shoulder. He said something Jackson couldn't hear, and then took off.

"Cowards!" Boonta shouted. He turned and made to catch up to his partner.

Jackson gave their retreating backs the finger. "Told you they'd chicken out. If they try to double-team you, just stop again. Or hell, run back this way if you have to."

"Jackson, do you have any consideration for my pride at all?" Vuntha said.

"This isn't about pride. It's about winning."

Vuntha frowned. "But that's just it."

"This is a race," Jackson said. "The goal is to get you from point A to point B as quickly as possible. I came up with the best method to do that. That's worth some pride, right?"

"But we're using...things from your world. Magic things."

"So what?" Jackson said. "I'm a warrior of Shakhan. Tatanka Ska. And I don't like to lose."

"It doesn't seem fair."

"Fair?" Jackson snorted. "Nothing is fair. Ever. Why the hell are we having this conversation again?"

"This is important."

"Is it more important than Drana?" Jackson said.

"It's important because of Drana!" Vuntha said. "I just feel like...I don't know. It seems underhanded."

Jackson watched a good man struggle with the idea of blatantly cheating to get what he wanted. It would be a little funny if it weren't so sad. "It's not underhanded. Do you want to win or not?"

"Not like this. And how is it not underhanded?"

Jackson heaved a sigh. Maybe if he had a little more patience, and could word himself a bit better, he could put together something that would soothe Vuntha's worries and get them on the right track. But he didn't have either of those things. "Look," Jackson said, "Boonta started this. He knows what I am. He knew to expect something from me - they just didn't think it would give them trouble. They thought wrong." He folded his arms. "I don't have all the answers, Vuntha, but this isn't just a friendly race to the tree and back. Boonta is trying to ruin your life because he thinks it'll get to me. If that's not a good enough reason for you to use everything at our disposal in order to win, then let's just walk back now and quit wasting our time. Because if we're going to do this then you kinda need to start running again. I'm here helping you because you asked, so whichever way you pick, just don't complain to me when you regret it later."

Vuntha wiped his face. He took a breath. "Alright. I get it."

Jackson looked up at the foothills. "You ready?"

He nodded. "Good fortune to you."

"You too."

Vuntha started running on the trail of the main pack -- he was over a minute behind them, but that wouldn't be a problem.

Jackson took a sharp turn and ran in along the shoulder of the mountain. He jogged up the first hill, and then back down. The rising crags of the black rock overtook his view of the runners.

Jackson ran alone until he reached the spot they'd found earlier. It looked like a sheer cliff, but just above it was a flat shelf that they'd spotted from the slopes of another nearby hill. Jackson picked out his first handhold and started to climb.

The black rock looked slick and smooth, but it had been dry the last few days. The tough leather of his moccasins gave his feet good purchase. He picked his way up the first cliff, checking his grip as he went. He was in a hurry, but not that much of a hurry.

Normally, he wouldn't consider doing something like this. He was not a rock climber, but he had a safety net -- a health bar. Jackson didn't know how fall damage would be calculated, but it was a pretty safe bet that he wouldn't die easily.

The cliff continued up for a time, and then ended at a shelf, and then kept going. After climbing to his fourth such ledge, he took a short break. Looking down, he'd already climbed a good hundred feet or so; he couldn't pick out individual blades of grass. He slapped his hands together, shook his fingers loose, then started up again.

He made the next shelf of the shoulder when he heard a voice. "Jackson, what are you doing?! You're gonna lose!"

Jackson looked over the edge of the cliff he was on. Palla was standing at the base of the rock. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to wait for when the men come back around! It's too slow to climb, you'll never make it!"

"Yeah, I know! Don't worry about it!"

"But Jackson!" Palla said. His shout was quickly turning into a whine.

"But nothing! Don't distract me!"

"Fine! I tried to tell you!"

Jackson chuckled and went back to it. Kid thought he had everything figured out.

****

After what felt like days of climbing, Jackson was starting to think that Palla might have had the right idea. He was exhausted. His hands were chafed. His forearms were tired from clenching handholds. His back ached from pulling his body up over and over again. If he didn't have most of his points in strength and vitality, he might not have gotten this far.

Jackson grunted and tugged himself onto another ledge. It was barely two feet wide. He slid across it on his stomach.

A heavy wind scoured across the rocks. He heard a few pebbles clatter around him. He pressed himself back against the wall of the cliff and wiped the sweat off his forehead. This had all looked a lot less insane from a distance.

He glanced down.

Jackson immediately drew his head back. No big deal. I've got a health bar. I can fall. That wouldn't kill me in one go. Probably.

Jackson glanced up. The cliff above him might have been the longest yet. It was too steep to tell where it stopped. He might not even be halfway there. He had to make it in time to meet Vuntha.

He grunted, then straightened. He found a handhold, then hoisted himself up. One hand at a time.

The wind came again. Jackson jammed his left foot into a crevice and braced himself. His hide shirt rippled across his back. His body heat was sucked away until his bones felt cold.

The wind died. Jackson made to move his foot.

He couldn't. It was stuck -- wedged in too tight. He checked his grip, then pulled harder. He wiggled the leg back and forth, trying not to think about what would happen if he struggled too hard and lost his handholds.

His foot came free -- and his moccasin flew off. The leather shoe tumbled back down the cliff and into oblivion. Jackson drew in a shaky breath. "That's fucking great. That's fantastic. I hated that shoe anyway."

Jackson worked for another foothold. His skin was not as good at grabbing the rock as the moccasin. He tried to use his toes to compensate. It didn't work very well.

He wasn't sure if this was the longest cliff face yet, or if it was the fact that he felt like he was going to be flung away like a dead leaf any second, but it felt like a year before he reached the top. He dragged himself up just as another gust blew by. He pushed himself against the rock, then crawled the rest of the way, not daring to stand straight with the air howling around him.

Jackson raised himself up. Relief washed over him. This was it - the top of the shoulder of the mountain.

The shelf he stood on stretched on a good three or four dozen yards. It was like the surface of another planet. There were scattered rocks and boulders, depressions and cracks, but everything was solid black.

Jackson looked out over the plains. The rolling foothills around the mountain gave way to endless green flatlands that stretched in every direction. Only one of the two rivers broke the uniformity. It seemed as if he could see the entire world, and it was solely made up of grass and sky.

Jackson glanced up. Even after climbing all this way -- 1,000, 2,000 feet? -- he couldn't even begin to make out the top of the mountain. It was truly massive.

Jackson sat down behind a big rock; it helped cut most of the wind. He picked up a pebble and rubbed it between his hands. Despite the uniform color, it didn't feel that different from any other rock. It definitely wasn't obsidian; it wasn't shiny enough. That was the only mineral he knew was black off the top of his head.

There was something about the mountain - why did it seem so strange? Even people without any magic seemed to sense something about it.

Jackson realized what it was.

There wasn't any life up here. Even in Boston, there were weeds growing in the cracks between the concrete; there were mosquitoes. Mountaintops didn't have trees, but there would be moss and lichen on the rock. There would be shrubs. Grasses. Bugs.

The mountain had none of that. The prairie ended at the edge of the rock. The black surface could not be touched.

Jackson shivered again. Not from the cold, but from the feeling that was tugging him back below the mountain.

He took out his foldout. It came on with a tap of his finger. Time to settle in and play a video game. How long had it been? He was suffering from serious digital withdrawal. He'd have to ask Rachel for some Mentra the next time he saw her.

His foldout flickered and died.

"The shit?" Jackson pressed the screen again. Nothing happened.

What was going on? He'd just charged the thing and double-checked to make sure the battery cell he was using worked. He didn't want to be stuck on the side of the mountain twiddling his thumbs. He tried it a few more times, but it stayed unresponsive. Dammit.

Jackson checked his stats. He debated on putting essence into an Attribute, then decided to sit on it a bit longer. He hunted around the menus for some clues regarding the Amplifiers, but he couldn't see anything useful. The tabs and abilities in Isis only showed up after he discovered them for himself.

Jackson brought up his minimap and zoomed out. Most of the plains around the mountain were outlined. He scrolled to the side; he could see Chaki's indicator down in the camp. Jackson downsized the map and walked to the other side his plateau.

Far below, he could see the ant-like movements of the runners. They had collapsed into a dispersed line. Groups huddled close together here and there, keeping a healthy distance from nearby competitors. Jackson could see more than one straggler in the back -- one was probably Vuntha. It was a bit too far to pick him out.

They were almost at the halfway post. It was a large totem pole, jutting from the ground like a lonely tree. When the wind blew, the chains of beads whipped out from it like tiny hairs.

Having run out of things to do, Jackson sat down again in the sheltered spot behind the boulder. He sighed, and shifted. Fucking piece of shit computer.

He took out the foldout again. He didn't have his tools, but maybe it was something simple. He dug his nails into the plastic holster. After a minute of wiggling and cursing, he managed to pry it open.

A stench like burning rubber and old onions mixed together hit him right in the nose. Jackson winced and screwed up his face. He held the foldout away from himself and inspected it from afar.

Jackson yelped in disgust and dropped the foldout. He hopped to his feet and backed away as the thing clattered to the stone.

There was a black ooze inside of the foldout; it looked like some kind of glistening fungus. Parts of the wiring and the CPU had been eroded away. What the hell...?

Jackson's hand glowed white. He looked down. His scar pulsed white again, flashing like a light. It pulsed a third time, and then stopped.

A screen blossomed in front of Jackson's face.

Most of the menus in Isis were the same. They tended to be brown, almost like wood paneling, with curved blue lettering. On occasion, there would be a slate grey screen with squarish red letters; those were saved for alerts. All of them were slightly transparent, so he could move around while having a screen up.

This one was black. It was completely opaque. White letters etched themselves across the black screen in cursive, as if a hand was writing them even as Jackson watched.

A hunter has entered this level of the tower.

The screen shrunk itself into the upper left hand corner of his view. In the tiny space between where his peripheral vision ended and his health and essence bars began, a tiny black pentagram revealed itself. Jackson swallowed. What the hell was going on? Was it because he was messing with his foldout, or was it just coincidence?

He didn't have his spear, his main weapon. Jackson quickly moved to the center of the plateau; it was a wide, open space. No way for anything to sneak up on him. He kept swiveling, turning his head every time he thought he saw a hint of motion.

The pentagram in the corner of his vision pulsed white. It went black again.

He remembered what Shakhan had said, back when it had spoken through Shaka. It said something about the Fallen -- whatever they were -- sending hunters. Had he taken too long? Was he going to be attacked?

Time passed. Nothing happened. His only company was the wind.

Every once in a while, the black pentagram pulsed. Jackson studied it. It was very consistent. He tried counting the interval and found that they were about thirty seconds apart. After getting the same result five times in a row, he slowly relaxed.

The pulsing was probably an indicator. Maybe some kind of proximity alert?

"Shraaak!"

Jackson spun. Something was crawling across the ground toward him -- a freakish, crab-like mass. It had a shiny black carapace and a maw filled with teeth.

His indicator hadn't changed. Was this the hunter? Or something else?

The creature skittered forward across the ground. It snapped its teeth, then cried out again. It was small - only about ankle-high. Jackson took a step back and kept his eyes peeled.

The creature lunged at him. Jackson kicked out at it, but it darted to the side. Another jump, and it latched onto his ankle.

Jackson felt a sharp twinge in his foot as it clamped down -- and it quickly got worse, as if it was seeping into his skin. Jackson kicked at it with his free foot, but it wouldn't let go; its legs hooked themselves around his ankle.

His health had already dropped by 20 points, and it was going fast. A red indicator flashed under his health bar.

You have been poisoned.

A vial with a skull and crossbones blinked into place under his status bar. Jackson kicked harder, but it didn't help. His health had fallen to 210, and the rate of decrease was getting faster. He needed a solution fast.

He ran to a nearby boulder. This is gonna hurt. Jackson lifted his foot, then, as hard as he could, slammed his ankle into the rock. The creature was crushed between his leg and a hard place.

It didn't budge, but it made a sound -- maybe he'd hurt it. Unfortunately, that also made his health decrease. 187. His toes were starting to feel numb.

Jackson lifted his leg and smashed it again, and again. Black liquid started seeping from under its carapace. He kicked at it with his free foot. Two of its legs broke off, but its jaws were still buried deep.

His health was at 140. He had to make something happen.

Jackson fell to the ground on his rear. He picked up the sharpest looking rock he could find. He twisted, bringing his foot in reach.

The thing was disgusting up close -- oozing, pulsing, with green saliva dripping out from the red haze where it had bit into him. He swallowed his disgust and jammed his right hand into the wound he'd made in its shell, peeling it back and jamming the rock inside.

The creature cried out in pain -- and opening its jaws in the process. Jackson ripped it off, wincing as he did so. Its legs scrabbled to get another grip. He flung it away; it bounced off the rock and hit the ground.

He climbed to his feet, putting most of his weight on his good foot. His left leg didn't have a visible injury, but the numbness lingered, prickling at him with pins and needles. His health kept ticking down, drained away by the poison indicator.

Jackson hobbled over to the creature. It had landed on its back and was struggling to right itself. He brought a foot down and crushed it flat. A few kicks later, and it stopped moving.

A white trail of essence flew out of the bug and into Jackson. His essence went up by 14 points. Not bad.

He sat down on the ground while keeping a careful eye out for more of the toothed bugs. The poison drained him until he reached 124 health. It wasn't strong; without the bug constantly injecting it, it faded quickly.

And then, his status as a video game character took over. His health started to tick back up. After a good ten minutes, his red bar had filled up.

Once the adrenaline died down, he was able to think straight. He should have tried putting essence into a kick and creating a new ability; that probably would have helped a lot. But at least he didn't waste any.

Where the heck had that thing come from? There wasn't anything up here.

Jackson had a sudden thought. He walked back over to where he'd tossed his foldout to the ground. His suspicions were immediately confirmed. The black mass he'd taken for a fungus had hatched like an egg. The creature must have emerged from inside.

But how did it get into his foldout? The computer had been malfunctioning for a while. That must have meant it was growing inside for at least a day or two.

Jackson heard a scraping on his left. Another bug? He glanced at the pentagram -- the pulsing was the same, still slow. He crouched at the center of the plateau, ready for whatever was coming.

Vuntha's head appeared over edge of the cliff. He landed with an easy grace on the top of the plateau. A cord looped with red beads was tied tight around his forearm. "Hey, Jackson!"

"Vuntha." Jackson sighed. "I'm glad to see you."

"These things are amazing," Vuntha said. He bounced from toe to toe. "I feel like a deer! I was jumping up cliffs!"

"They'll help you drop down the steps here," Jackson said. "Whoa. What happened to your shoulder?"

Vuntha brushed his hand over a bloody cut on his skin. "It's worse than it looks. Boonta tried waiting for me at the totem pole. The trainers helped me get away, though. He'll have a serious bruise from the kick I gave him."

"Good."

"What's that smell?" Vuntha's eyes followed his nose. "Ugh. What is that thing?"

"Don't know, and I don't wanna know. But I killed it." Jackson sighed. "Take off your shoes."

Vuntha gave the crushed bug a long look, then kicked his moccasins away. Jackson brought a spare battery cell out of his pocket.

Climbing over the shoulder of the mountain would take too much time -- unless you had jump trainers. But even then, the battery wouldn't last long enough to go the whole way. The plan Jackson devised was simple; he'd climb up the mountain and meet Vuntha halfway with a spare battery. And then, Vuntha would keep hopping right down the mountain and win the entire race without breaking a sweat.