Chapter 8: We'll Say These Words Forever

The kid had twisted on his back, caught between fear of getting shot again, freaking out about already being shot and blood coming away on his hand, and trying to scramble away.

“I gotcha, bud!” Jack called as he grabbed the young man under each underarm and began dragging him backward — internally, he knew it was with a significant edge in strength on top of the effects of adrenaline. It was as if his will formed blades to carve out his body’s path in advance, smoothing out the rough lines and barriers of reality.

A flash and another bullet flew. He was aware of it zipping past his ear a split moment before he heard the crack. That was new — detecting a speeding bullet. It was too fast for him to react much, especially for his first experience seeing it.

It missed, though. It missed.

In the next moment, or so it seemed, they were past the doors. Jack had almost fully lifted the injured man to move faster. He dove to the floor once inside and Terrance slammed the door shut, bolting it soon after.

Tanner’s voice came on the radio once more. “Lucky for you, Jack, I need more practice on the range. And not everyone over here understands our relationship, or maybe I’d have gotten another crack. But let’s be clear: every one of you ignorant hicks will get ten times the bullets pumped into them if you don’t bring that little blue bitch to me right fraggin' now! No more bullshit negotiating!”

Two of the other men helped Texas to a couch, one of them stuffing some pills into his mouth ‘for pain.’ Swallowing them with his face a rictus of fear, he managed through clenched teeth, “A rifle! I want a rifle, damn it!”

His uncle eyed Jack with some combination of wonder and disturbance. “Jack, I ain’t never seen a man move like that. We were about to start shootin’ with you out there, son. I swear we were. But you did it quick. Holy hell, you should’ve been special forces, not a pilot.”

Jack all but ignored this comment, not wanting to explain and not wanting to look at his uncle much right then. He moved back to the wall in a crouch as he picked up his rifle and clicked the radio receiver. A man, he says. I’m more than that, now, right? “You are the worst prick to ever walk Memoria’s steel, Tanner. You won’t be walking at all when I’m done with you.”

The radio clicked back quickly. “That’s rich, Jack. Does everyone in there share your suicidal bravado? You’ve got ten seconds to convince me you’re bringing the bitch and the item out or we’re unleashing hell. One… Two…”

Terrance sighed and clicked in. “Alright. Alright! We’re getting her.”

“Thirty seconds. I suggest you hurry.”

Off the radio, Jack spoke insistently, “We can’t! There won’t be any restraint either way. They’re already past the edge of no return. Maybe they were just from what they did with Neex, I dunno. They aren’t going to leave witnesses to this, though.”

Instead of moving to comply with Tanner, though, everyone got in position by windows, faces grim.

His uncle looked Jack dead in the eyes. “I know that, son. Neex, is it? Well, she’s under my roof, and everything and everyone under this roof won’t be given up without a fight, cavalry coming or not.”

And then Old Man Terrance got into position and clicked the receiver. “You know, bandits killed my ma and broke my daddy’s will when I was practically a boy. I was stalling, but me and mine are more ready for you rotten eggs than you could know. Sheep don’t tend the farm. Alright, Mick.”

As soon as that name was called there was a crack of a high-caliber rifle, and then Jack was aware of yelling from outside. Another crack resounded, and there was a scream. Shortly following this, a storm of gunfire began from both sides.

Bullets hit reinforced inner concrete walls and a door almost as strong. Most of it stayed inside the material. A few higher-caliber shots blew through even this, though. Jack only somewhat registered the intake, because he leaned around a window and dropped rounds like mad himself. The vehicles got pelted by their combined and continuous semi-automatic fire, and Mick from above punished their return fire with multiple snipe shots.

The slurry of fire died down as their foes took too many casualties from the sniper and went for deep cover. Jack dropped back and surveyed their own issues. His uncle was fine, though he had a bullet shot through the very top of his hat that he was probably not even aware of. One man had taken a nasty arm wound, but he either was functioning on adrenaline or he prepared with pain pills, because he’d switched to a sidearm and ignored the wound. Another man was sitting on his ass checking himself because he’d been shot in the chest. He had a vest on, but he’d clearly felt the impact.

Jack was fortunately pristine. In actuality, he had the crappiest angle for both firing and getting shot, because his car, Alice, was partially between them, obscuring the line of sight. She’d taken some shots on the back end.

Motherfraggin' bitch-ass punks, they’re shooting up my car! Tanner probably did it on purpose, that scumsucker.

He thought he had maybe hit a rifle once, despite the difficulty and his general rustiness.

When Jack took a super quick peek again, he noticed one of the truck’s spotlights had been completely rendered inoperable. The other had maybe a bulb or two blown out in a big ring of them.

As he was watching, a subtle shift in the twilight made him do a double-take, and then he saw blatantly what was happening. The truck with the blown light was moving — pivoting and turning to face them.

Oh shit! “They’re going to ram the fraggin' house!” he called as he began retreating. “Back, back, back!”

A levitation engine had incredible acceleration potential when you both wanted it and removed the standard protocols of its limitations for general safety…

The front of the house exploded inward. Jack briefly deduced in a strangely calm center of himself that the truck had indeed had those limitations removed.

The impact noise was incredible as a powerful steel frame collided with a heavy brick wall and shattered it inward, mangling itself in the process. Debris went in every direction and the ceiling collapsed. The truck fishtailed on Jack’s side, and bricks flew at him. A large chunk came at his head, and he just barely fell backward and moved his head back to make it glancing enough to not crack his skull like a melon. Some other resistance occurred too — one that he was very briefly aware caused him, the air, and everything around him to vibrate.

Easy for you to say. It was his first — rather hysterical — thought as he sat up on a gritty and dirty floor caked with debris, the time between head impact and rising mushed together.

His hand closed around a chunk of brick. His vision was still blurred and his head hurt terribly. The ceiling was like a big lean-to he was underneath, solid planks fallen at a diagonal angle, cracked but not broken. From outside, from above maybe, he could hear gunfire, but he didn’t see anything more than indirect flashes.

In his head was Neex. <Jack! Was there an explosion?>

<A crash, Neex. Stay there! Please. Lock the door, barricade, find a weapon, hide. You can hide great, right?>

<Yes, but I want to help. I’m worried. You were hurt. I wish we were closer to home.>

<I’ll be alright. Please listen. They have guns. Lots of guns.>

<Guns are not the strongest power to wield. I hate that you’re restrained from knowing yours. I believe that you will be a great warrior, Jack. I will listen and heed, but: No Death.>

<No Death, Neex. Never. I promise.>

Jack tried to blink away the haze and fully get his bearings. Need to see if my uncle is okay, and-

Suddenly, a dark, blurry figure, likely in a helmet and mask, came from around the edge of the debris lean-to, a rifle sweeping over in Jack’s direction…

Jack’s dulled reflexes were still just enough to beat the swing of the rifle. He hurled the chunk of brick at the figure, catching him in the head — the man cried out and fell backward from the impact, his rifle firing off once into nowhere.

Poetic justice. But the enemy wasn’t neutralized; still moving. Jack threw himself up and charged. The footing and his impaired state of consciousness were not well suited for such action. As the man was just catching sight of Jack barreling his way and trying to bring the rifle up, Jack tripped — thankfully he was close enough to adjust and half leap, half fall right on top of his foe.

He could feel the man’s breath knocked out of him. Jack followed it up with a punch that the man blocked with an arm, though not without suffering pain as his forearm took a hit. As Jack lifted his fist for another try, his foe managed to pivot and sling Jack to the side — somewhat unfortunately, this was on top of the assault rifle.

Nonetheless, the man tried to slip away. Jack grappled him and pushed him down, managing to handily press him to the floor face first. He tried a punch in the back, vaguely aiming for the kidney area, but his fist struck thick armor that blunted the impact.

As the man struggled to get up, Jack put his full weight on his back and effectively pinned him. “Get offa me!” the man yelled in a panicked tone.

Jack considered the request as his eyes looked to the left. “Actually, I will.” He grabbed the rifle off of the debris-ridden floor and stood, quickly training it on his enemy.

The man had flipped around onto his back during this time. Rather than beg for his life — which might’ve been the better play — he was scrambling to unbutton and unholster a sidearm at his hip.

Primarily to bypass armor, Jack aimed at the man’s arm and pulled the rifle’s trigger, which popped off three bullets in rapid succession right through an unprotected biceps. The man cried out and covered the wound with his other hand, turning slightly.

I’ve shot another human being. Why are we like this? An odd and uncomfortable thought in the middle of the madness.

Another figure came around the corner, a rifle already coming to bear. Jack dove to his right just as shots flew by. He did not quite dodge bullets, but he did dodge a deadly line of fire.

A little slower! A little slower and I’d have eaten them with my ribs.

Jack returned fire from the dusty floor with a rock jabbing him in the hip. Bullets took the man in the well-armored abdomen. Well-trained, it only caused him to step back and adjust as he aimed his weapon again.

Luckily, Jack’s rolling and scurrying brought him behind the cover of some brick debris and a collapsed dresser that had been full of jeans. Shots rang and ricocheted, causing Jack to flinch, but he felt no injury. He ended up crouched awkwardly, but his rifle was trained to open fire on anyone who approached. At least his spot was well cushioned with jeans beneath him.

He could still clearly hear gunfire outside, indicating a strong likelihood other farmhands or his uncle’s family had come in support. His hearing was totally undamaged despite all the indoor gunfire, apparently protected by his Toughness trait as well.

Handy. My hearing is… healed? Better than ever. I think. Must be part of the generic enhancement package.

Odd thoughts amid a crisis.

The man on the ground moaned and cried about his wound. Meanwhile, the other called, “Come out with your hands up!”

“I think I’m good,” Jack called back. “How you doin’?”

“Shoot that crazy motherfragger dead, little brother,” the injured man said in between hysterical sobs. “Shoot him dead!”

“Shut the frag up,” the other responded. “How did he get your rifle, you bitch? Cotton-balled amateur. I hope you bleed out.” After a pause, in a muted tone, he continued, “Got someone pinned down toward the west wing from the hole. Need backup; Over.”

Wearing a headpiece. Jack looked around as he prepared to make some sort of play. Retreat would expose him though he might make it to the hallway and create a bottleneck in his favor. Unfortunately, that would bring enemies in Neex’s direction…

There was a slurry of strange sounds and screams from outside, and then the man who had just called for backup yelled, “Son-of-a-” before firing off his rifle. Meanwhile, the sobbing guy Jack shot screamed bloody murder, and, by the sounds, discharged his sidearm. Jack could tell it was not in his direction, so he peeked around the rock aiming his weapon.

A gigantic mass of glowing green gelatinous material was around the two combatants… around and enveloping them completely. A few bullets seemed to have made tracks through the gel, but didn’t get far, and were suspended in it the same as the weapons and the men themselves. Muffled cries and the futile struggle of their bodies were all they could manage within it — otherwise, they were like suspended mannequins. By whatever means, even gunfire had ceased.

Somewhere within the mass, another shape flowed through it to them. It was a floating, enclosed dark-visored helmet and navy blue long coat — without a body. “Ah, no need, gentlemen,” a tinny yet smooth voice announced, seeming to vibrate through the gel as a whole. He had a bizarre accent. “Don’t you see the fight is over? Have a nap in the warm embrace of The Mother’s arms. Figuratively speaking, of course.”

He knew exactly who the Non was, as a publicly-known ‘peacekeeper’ and recent war hero with rare front-line footage. Ooze. Wall-of-Ooze.

Another voice erupted, so loud it could be felt in the bones. “Citizens of Allied Humanity.” It was slightly modulated, coming from an amplifier from somewhere above and outside. “We are the Agentus Nonpareil, here by the authority of Archon Memoria in cooperation with the leadership of Eden. Cease all violence and surrender to our processing or you may be injured or killed, with your punishment for the violation of laws worsened — if you survive. Cooperate and live.”

Still a bit stunned, Jack watched as the struggle began to fade in the two caught-up fighters. Suddenly, the helmet suspended in the ooze turned almost ninety degrees to look Jack’s way, something like two little bright stars just visible behind a dark visor.

Jack immediately tossed the gun down and stood with his hands up. “I surrender.” Resisting the Nons was suicide. Or worse.

I’m one of them, though. Does he know? Can he see?

Wall-of-Ooze laughed heartily. “That’s a good man! A smart man. Smart men are rather my favorite. Good, good, good! Would you like to be protected against stray fire or other damage within my ooze, citizen? I assure you that you’ll breathe fresh air easily within, by my efforts — unlike these two miscreants, here. Oh, hmm! They’re unconscious, aren’t they? Time to restore their proper breathing!”

Outside, all gunfire died. One last distant scream, then nothing. Silence.

Jack swallowed and shook his head slightly. “Uh, no thanks. Ooze. Ooze, sir. Or is it Wall?”

“I would’ve preferred Wall, but it was vetoed. Ooze. Agent Ooze if you want to be proper. I don’t care, though.”

“Well, I’m just a citizen, right? I could call you Wall.”

“That you could, Citizen! Unofficially.” Somehow, a star eye seemed to wink at him.

“Will do.” He has no idea. Memoria is probably still not allowed here consciously, despite whatever arrangement was made for them to come.

“Just hold position a while longer, Citizen. Everyone’s being rounded up, but the perimeter has to be triple-secured. We don’t want missed snipers taking potshots, especially when we move people.”

“Move who where?”

“Hold questions for now, too, Citizen. If you would.”

Jack nodded and made contact with Neex via thought-quick Mem-text. <Neex, Memoria’s people are here. I guess I can’t tell you what to do about it, but the Agentus Nonpareil are the elite of the elite. They’re securing the perimeter. You could try to stealth out of here or surrender. Personally, I’m stuck, but it doesn’t have to limit you.>

Neex quickly replied. <I think being taken by her official agents is precisely what I want, Jack. I will put the shirt robe back on and wait on the bed to be less threatening against potential overreaction. Could you warn them?>

Jack had to take a moment to admit within himself that attempting to play dumb about who he was not only probably wouldn’t work, but even if it did, he’d hamstring his ability to be in the mix about whatever happened with Neex. The collective everything he’d struggled for. <Yeah, will do. Don’t forget to unlock and unbarricade the door. Otherwise, they might just break through it.>

<Oh, right! Good thinking. I would’ve completely forgotten because I am silly!>

Despite the situation, Jack smiled a bit. He also felt a bit sick, between his bodily depletion, the concussion, the tumbling come-down from the stresses of a shootout, and uncertainty about both of their futures.

What is going to happen to her? Memoria has to see the promise in this ally. She has to.

Just as Jack was opening his mouth to ask about casualties and whether his uncle was okay, there the old man was stepping around the corner as Wall-of-Ooze oozed out of the way.

Terrance was dustier, dirtier, and bloodier than Jack had ever seen him. His arm was in a sling, already in an ugly-looking, hard instant-cast, and he was limping. As soon as he laid eyes on Jack, he exclaimed in relief, “Jack! Thank the sky you’re alright! Haha, that’s my boy!”

His uncle rushed over limp and all to hug him with one arm — Jack returned it, equally relieved despite their frayed relationship. After separating and clapping Jack on the shoulder, his uncle grinned in pleasure with a bloody mouth missing a tooth. He proudly declared, “A survivor! That’s us Lakers! Didn’t I tell ya?”

“Yeah,” Jack breathed, nodding and swallowing with a throat that felt incredibly parched. He felt a pang of guilt as he studied his uncle — despite good spirits, he looked like he’d been through a warzone. He might as well have been. “Uncle… I’m sorry. I brought all this down on your head. Literally.”

His uncle looked away, shaking his head slightly. And then there was a modulated cleared-throat noise behind him.

Three Nons were there — two in full kit with their enclosed, mirror-visored helmets on, and another with the iconic coat but no inner suit and hints of plain clothes. But they were blurred and obscured, as was his face. It was discernible that he had unusually long hair, and his eyes were glowing red pinpoints shining through. Jack felt an immediate spine-tingling discomfort when their ‘eyes’ met and he looked away.

Creepy. Does he see anything? Does he know?