Dream Drive Ch. 07

Paranoia guided Jackson's next move. When he opened the battery slot of the jump trainers, he went a step further and cracked open the case.

The smell smacked him again. It wasn't as strong, but it was there. And he saw what he was looking for -- a black sort of ooze sitting on the electronics. Jackson scraped it out with his fingers and wiped it on a boulder. "God, that's disgusting."

"What's going on?" Vuntha asked. "What is that stuff?"

"I don't know," Jackson said. "I cleaned it out, at least, so it should get you down to the bottom of the mountain. I'll take a closer look at it later."

"Are you sure?"

No, Jackson thought. "Yeah, I'm sure," Jackson said.

"Alright." Vuntha tested his recharged trainers a bit. "I can definitely feel a difference. See you back at the start!"

"Yep."

"Hey...Jackson?"

Jackson turned back. "What's up?"

Vuntha faced him. "I had a lot of time to think while I was running. With you climbing up here...you sacrificed your position so that I can win."

Jackson shrugged. "I told you I don't care about the competition."

"But still," Vuntha said. "You came to my aid when I needed it, and then I complained about the aid you gave. I'm sorry I second-guessed you. I just - with Drana, it's making me nervous."

"I can kinda see where you were coming from. You just gotta learn not to give a fuck."

Vuntha grinned. "I think that'll be hard."

"Alright," Jackson said. "If I think you're being stupid, I'll smack you. How's that sound?"

"I think I'd be offended at first, but appreciate it later."

"Sounds like a plan," Jackson said. He walked toward the opposite side of the plateau. "See you in a while."

"Thank you, Jackson."

Jackson started climbing down without answering.

The side of the mountain that Vuntha had run up was less cliffs and more a steep slope, but it was impossible to go straight down without assistance. Jackson had to take long switchback pathways in order to get down to the halfway post.

When he finally arrived, there was only one cord left -- a thin leather strip with a half-dozen beads tied along its length. He untied it from the totem and started jogging back home.

It was a long, lonely run. The sun ticked up higher into the sky, dispelling the morning chill.

His feet hit the ground in the same way over and over. He had to change how he rolled his ankles because parts of his toes started numbing up. He was definitely not used to this, and the prior struggle of climbing up the mountain was not helping.

Jackson wondered about that. He was definitely able to run for a longer time because of his enhanced Vitality. He wouldn't have lasted over a minute without heaving his breaths if it wasn't for the upgrades. But there was an underlying tiredness that prevailed beyond that. After walking for days on end with the tribe, his legs and feet hurt, and his joints ached. He recovered statistical Health after resting, but on a different level, he was still human. It was the same with sleep -- he didn't have to sleep, but if he went for days without letting his mind relax, it started to seriously affect him.

He kept running. He ran for a while more, and then ran some more. He jogged until his mind was blank and his legs felt like hot slag. He took a little break, and then kept going.

Jackson blissfully imagined a quiet finish with only one or two people left to see him home. He had nobly played his role as the altruistic sacrifice bunt, but he had an ulterior motive. He was sick of the looks all the tribesmen were giving him - the calls, the adorations.

Dealing with people was a giant pain in the ass. That was why he made himself scarce after he played games online; it was why he ignored the flood of messages in his Dream Hub inbox. Maybe if he finished last, they would write him off as a fluke and stop sending their wives in freakish strength-transfer sex offerings.

Attention gained from grand accomplishments was fleeting. It was the shallow surface opinion of people trained to like others because it was popular to like them. That attention dried up as soon as the accomplishments stopped flowing. He'd learned that his first day in the Dream Hub. The only person he needed to satisfy was himself, and he meant to keep it that way.

A little smile crossed his face. Maybe he'd try to make a few other people satisfied. But only a few.

Jackson knew why Vuntha's attitude had changed after his run. It lasted forever. You had no choice but to either think about things or go nuts with monotony. His moccasins slapped into the earth in a dead rhythm.

When he finally came to that depressing conclusion of apathetic selfishness, after Westley had died, after Charles...after what he did, he had wondered about it. Was it the right thing to do? Or was he just depressed? Was he a freak, or was he morally justified to withdraw?

Of course it was justified. How could it not be, when there were so many humans on Earth that they were labeled with numbers? How could it not be, when the entire real world was a parade of people judging others by their appearance? And even in the Dream Hub, where everyone was perfected, evaluations simply shifted to two other factors: your win/loss record in games and the length of your friends list.

And despite not wanting to deal with people, here he was, competing in some stupid series of games because Vuntha needed a hand. On the other hand, Boonta was a pretty terrible person, so Jackson was willing to go out of his way to make sure he got what was coming. And how much effort was it, anyway? Throw some jump trainers on Vuntha and make sure he got back in one piece. Problem solved.

Their plan wasn't complicated. Jackson liked simple plans. They tended to last longer. Do what needed to be done, then pack up and go home.

That, and get back at Boonta. If it wasn't for Jackson's intervention, Boonta really would have hurt Chaki. He needed to be knocked on his ass.

Jackson finally rounded the shoulder of the mountain. The camp bloomed into sight. His legs were flooded with a tingling sense of relief -- either that, or they were going numb again.

Jackson would have made a very ugly expression at what was waiting for him, but he was too tired to bother. A sea of tribesmen, at least as big as what had gathered for the start of the race, were standing in two huge groups on either side of the finish line. A roar of cheers told Jackson he'd been spotted. He spat to the side and put his head down.

He ran up between the people. The crowd bent inward to follow him as he made for the finish. Hundreds of them ran alongside him, tapping his back, brushing his shoulders, and calling his name before falling away. They were of every age and both genders, though mostly children. Boys and girls alike ran circles around his heels as he dragged himself across the last few dozen yards.

Jackson crossed the finish line with his cord in his fist. Vuntha was there to greet him with a grin that put Jackson's small smile to shame. He embraced Jackson hard, squeezing the life out of his chest. "Jackson! You made it!"

"Vuntha -- air -- tired -"

"Ha!" Vuntha let him go. Jackson gulped air as if chugging it from a glass. "I had to give my partner a proper greeting!"

Jackson looked around at the throng surrounding them. "What the hell is all this for? I'm the loser."

"Well, yes," Vuntha said, "but everyone knows we were working together. Thanks to you, I set a new record!"

"Jackson!" Palla emerged from the crowd. "Wooooo!" He flew into a leaping tackle-hug.

Jackson stumbled back under the force. It felt like the bug creature was suckered onto his chest. "Palla -- shit - take it easy!"

"Wooo!" Palla smacked Jackson's back, then dropped to the ground. "How did you do it?! Everyone wants to know!"

Jackson coughed, then shrugged. "Uh...beginner's luck, I guess."

Palla made a face as if he'd just swallowed three spoonfuls of lemon juice. "Jeeze, Chaki's right. You're a bad liar."

"I'll tell you when you're older."

"Everything is always when I'm older! I hate that!"

Jackson pushed his way through the crowd. He had something more important to get to. "Vuntha," Jackson said, "come on."

"I'm coming!" Vuntha had to shoulder through the people to get next to him again. It seemed like everyone wanted to get their hand on him at least once.

Jackson had to shout to be heard. "What is with the touching?!"

"It's tradition!" Vuntha said. "Everyone wants to touch the winner of the race!"

"I didn't win!"

"But didn't you!?"

Jackson's only argument was a sigh. It was lost in an ocean of cheers.

By the time they made the tents, the temporary celebration had died down. Jackson ducked through the tipis, wincing every time someone called out Tatanka Ska! or rushed in to give him a tap on the arm.

Eventually, they made it back to Shaka's tipi. The woman herself was waiting with Landri and Chaki; they were seated outside around a small cooking fire. "Ah, there he is," Shaka said. "My apologies I didn't join the spontaneous gathering."

"No offense taken."

"Good, because it was giving me a headache."

"Me too," Jackson said.

"Hmph." Chaki folded her arms. "All this uproar for a cheater."

"It's not cheating if you don't get caught," Jackson said.

"I knew it! What did you do?!"

"I didn't say I cheated," Jackson said. "I was just making an observation."

"You're such a terrible liar."

"What is with people saying that?" Jackson said. "I'm not that bad a liar."

Shaka and Chaki fixed Jackson with identical spirit guide stares. Landri raised an eyebrow, but kept working on her sewing without even looking up. Vuntha coughed awkwardly.

"Yeah," Jackson said, "well, whatever." He ducked into the tent.

Vuntha lifted the flap. "Jackson, the archery starts pretty soon. We need to get on our horses."

"I just need to check something first. Go ahead, I'll meet you there. Leave the trainers outside, will you?"

Vuntha nodded. "Remember to bring your cord, it's important for the lottery." He ducked away.

Jackson glanced to the side. His trusty iron spear was propped against the hide wall. He grabbed it. They'd cleaned it up quite a bit, taking care of the rust, sharpening the tip, and tying on a small pair of wingtips under the blade. In his inventory, instead of Rusty Iron-tipped Spear, it was titled Wooden-winged Iron Spear.

With his weapon in hand, he faced his duffle bag. The bright blue sack rested quietly next to Shaka's wooden trunk. He peered at it suspiciously.

Cloth moved. Something shifted inside the bag.

Jackson swallowed.

There was a scrape: metal-on-metal, or maybe plastic. A clicking noise. Mandibles cutting the air.

He glanced at the entrance of the tent. "Chaki, you out there?"

"I am here," Chaki's voice said.

"Your bow nearby?"

"Yes, I have it. What is it?"

"Get it ready," Jackson said. "There's a --"

The bag burst open.

****

Chaki huffed and folded her arms as Jackson retreated into the tent. "I can't believe he cheated."

"I can," Shaka said.

"They're sacrificing honor to win," Chaki said. "I can't agree with that choice. What's the point of winning if it isn't done fairly?"

"Think of it this way," Shaka said. "Jackson has placed the happiness of Drana and Vuntha above his sense of honor. Would you rather we strain for honor to the exclusion of sense? He thinks of the greater good of the tribe, and the good of his friends."

Chaki's lips churned. "It leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I do not like it."

"I raised a fine daughter," Landri said.

"Thank you, mother."

"When men butt heads, they tend to ignore the rules they pretend to follow the rest of the time," Landri said. "That's fine, within reason. Just make sure you don't let him go too far."

Chaki let her arms fall to her sides. She was Jackson's North Star, was she not? She had to guide him. That was easier said than done.

She could not control him with her approval and disapproval alone. Sometimes it was very important to him; other times, he dismissed it without a second thought. He must view her as naive. She would have to correct that.

Jackson's voice came from Shaka's tent. He sounded serious. "Chaki, you out there?"

"I am here."

"Your bow nearby?"

Chaki glanced down; her bow rested on the grass beside her. She'd been doing a little practice just earlier. "Yes, I have it. What is it?"

"Get it ready," Jackson said. "There's a --"

Something ripped inside the tent; there was the sound of metal striking metal. And then, something between a shriek and a growl.

Chaki had a sudden mental image of the inside of a wooden cage. Her spine shivered.

She grabbed her bow and got to her feet. Shaka had abandoned her wasna and was standing, knife ready. Chaki's mother looked as if she was ready to use her bone sewing needle as a stabbing implement.

There was a pulse of essence from inside the tipi. White light flashed; for an instant, Chaki could see the shadowed outline of Jackson and some sort of multi-limbed thing on the ground. She grabbed an arrow off the ground and nocked it.

The flap of the tent snapped open. A black creature flew past Chaki's head, propelled by fat wings protruding from under a carapace.

"Stop that one!" Jackson shouted.

Chaki turned, following the creature with her arrow. The tip glowed white as she focused energy into a Power Shot.

"Chaki!" Landri said. "If you miss, you'll hit someone in the camp!"

Chaki's fingers hesitated. Another pulse of magic came from the tent. Shaka ducked inside to help Jackson.

The bug was getting further away. She had to think. Jackson had been telling her about abilities -- they could be made, and they could be changed. She had to make a shot that would definitely hit.

Chaki focused more essence into the bow. The entire arrow turned white. She had to use it to help her aim.

Hanta's words of advice came to her. She drew a mental line between her arrow and the creature. Elbow stays level. Focus on the center of the target. Eyes look down the shaft of the arrow.

How many times had she done this while hunting? Dozens of times, hundreds. She fired from foot, on horseback. She'd downed bison by herself. Hitting this bug would be easy. She would make it easy.

The arrow left her fingers without her really noticing. It was automatic, inevitable, as if it just had to happen that way. Something seemed to push the arrow out.

It arced through the sky and struck the beetle dead center. The arrow punched through the creature's underside and pierced one of its wings. It dropped from the sky.

Chaki glanced at her blue essence bar -- what a thing that was! -- but to her surprise, it didn't move. She just used essence, but it didn't drop. She didn't even feel drained.

A now-familiar sequence of music played in Chaki's ears, the short happy notes from an instrument Jackson called a trumpet.

Your Bond Level has risen to 10!

- Essence Regeneration slightly increased

- Strength increase

- Agility increase

Another game-screen flashed in front of her, overlapping the level-up announcement.

You have created a new skill: Aimed Shot.

Aimed Shot -- Greatly increase the accuracy of the next arrow fired.

- Essence Cost: 15

- Level: 42

- Progress: 56.7%

Chaki pumped her fist. "Mother, I'm level ten!"

Landri relaxed her grip on her sewing needle. "I'm sure that's lovely, dear. Let's go make sure that thing is dead."

Jackson shoved out of the tent flap. "Chaki, are you alright?"

"I'm level ten!"

"Did you get the bug?"

"I shot it from the sky," Chaki said, pointing. "What was it, exactly?"

"I'll explain in a sec," Jackson said. "Where are your books? The ones I brought from Earth?"

"In my tipi."

"Go check them out. Be very careful. There might be more of the bugs around them. I'll take care of the one you shot."

"It fell over there," Landri said. "Follow me." She started leading Jackson through the tents.

"Shaka," Chaki asked, "what's going on?"

"I don't know," Shaka said. "For now, do as he says. This is Shakhan's business." The commotion had drawn more than a few people; Shaka turned away. "I will explain to the others. You're made of stronger stuff than I am, now. Make sure there aren't more."

Chaki kept her bow tucked firmly at her side and ran through the camp toward her tipi. A few people called out to her; she ignored them.

Chaki came to a slow halt in front of her tipi and nocked an arrow. She gave the tent a once-over. The entrance flap was tied shut; there weren't any rips in the sides. She gingerly undid the leather tie and slid her head inside the flap, leading with her bow.

It was quiet. A wind rustled the canvass. The fire in the center of the tent had lost all its heat.

She saw her books near her blankets. One of them was still open where she'd left it. The other was closed. She crept around the fire pit.

Chaki lifted her foot, nudged one of the books with her toes, then jumped back. No reaction. She carefully poked through the blankets and the rest of their things until she was absolutely satisfied there were no more of the creatures. She firmly tied the tent flap shut, then went back to Shaka's tent.

As Chaki got close, she had to pinch her nose. An acrid smell was rising into the air, carried on a thick cloud of green-black smoke.

Several black, insectoid corpses were piled over the flames. Beneath them were other items -- pieces of metal, a handful of containers, and bits of plastic, already twisting into odd shapes from the heat. Jackson was loading spare clumps of grass and a few twigs onto the fire, stoking it to greater flame.

"What is all this?"

"How were the books?" Jackson asked. "Was there any black stuff on them? Anything like a fungus?"

"They were fine," Chaki said. "The tent was empty."

Jackson frowned in thought. "...alright. I think I get how they're playing this." He glanced up. "All the stuff I brought -- the electronics, anyway -- it all started growing this black ooze. The stuff that I used was contaminated the most. The armor fell apart as soon as I picked it up, and it had more larva inside it."

"Is something wrong with the things you brought from Earth?" Chaki asked.

"I think so," Jackson said. "Everything was ruined -- eaten away by the ooze. Except my pepper spray."

"You believe these creatures form out of what you brought through the connection to your world?" Shaka said.

"Yeah."

"Those things are for fighting, right?" Chaki said. "Maybe you can't bring those sorts of things through."

"It ate through my foldout," Jackson said. "Even my spiderbot was wasted away. It doesn't like any kind of machine." Jackson grumbled something under his breath that Chaki couldn't quite hear.

"Jackson," Chaki said, "I made a new ability, I think. It said it was called Aimed Shot."

"Sounds useful."

"It does," she said, "but when I used it the first time, I didn't lose any essence."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Jackson said. "The first time you make an ability, it doesn't use up essence. But I also think it's a little weaker than the full version."

"Weaker..." Chaki thought back to her shot. The skill made it seem effortless. What would a true Aimed Shot feel like?

"Jackson!" They all turned at the sound of Palla's voice. He was running toward the tent. "Jackson!"

"What?"

"They're starting the archery! You're gonna get disqualified!"

"I don't see why."

"You technically lost," Palla said. "You go in reverse order of points in the second round. You're first!"

"Shit." Jackson started moving. "Where's Smallgrass?"

"I already got her ready at the field."

"Shaka!" Jackson called. "Make sure all that stuff burns!"