RedGoblin
02-15-2006, 10:37 AM
This is a WIP, but wanted to share it with you guys...
Edited for corrections
************************************************** ************************
In the distance, the sun was just breaking over the ridge. Jon Brackham crunched his way across the ground, pulling on his hole filled gloves. Overhead the clouds churned and boiled as they always did on Desolation, unnatural, but beautiful none the less. The bomb seemed to have had that effect on most of the world.
He slowly approached his outbuilding. Its walls were beaten and battered. Time had definitely taken its toll on the old structure, just as it had on him. He reminisced of when it was a younger, sturdier building. Back when it seemed they would both last forever. But time has a way of corroding things, especially on Desolation. Enduring the radiation storms, earthquakes and the various abominations the bomb had created definitely had taken its toll on everything.
“Time to work” He thought to himself, pulling the Bola of his hat tighter around his neck.
Stepping inside, the smell of metal and oil assaulted his nostrils. He breathed it all in and reached for the light switch. A quick flicker and sparking sound from the overhead lights could be heard as they illuminated the belly of the building. He slowly made his way over to the mechanical monster that lived within the stomach of this time torn structure. The A3 Reaper, a miracle of modern farming ingenuity. Its reinforced body stood twice as tall as Jon. Nestled atop three massive lift vents, the cab was large enough to house two operators needed to control it. Protruding from its sides were two hydraulic arms that each housed the reaper blades, a system of three long curved blades, laser sharpened for clean quick harvesting, while another two arms held the catching baskets and scoops.
Jon ran his hand over the back of one of the blades as he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.
“’bout time you got your bones out here!” he said without turning around to see who it was.
“Sorry Pop. I had to give Mom a hand with cleanin’ up the dishes.”
Jon slowly turned raising an eyebrow at his only son. He was turning out to be a fine young man, a strong able-bodied youth. It hardly seemed that it had been nineteen years since he was born. How small he was then, innocent and pure, just like the sky used to be. He looked so much like his mother; she was in almost every aspect him. Except his eyes, those were his.
“Well... no harm no foul I s’pose. Now lets get to work, we got a long day ahead of us.”
His son vaulted up onto the Reaper, strapping himself quickly into his operating seat, while Jon slowly followed.
“You really think it will be that long? I mean we only got a quarter of a harvest left. We should have that done by mid-afternoon shouldn’t we Pop?”
Jon turned once again and looked at his son.
“I don’t think so Coop. If we hit it hard and fast like the other days then yea, you’d be right. But bein’ so near to bein’ done, there’s no need to rush. We’ll just take our time and enjoy it. Besides, I think you need to slow down some and take in the quiet. There’s plenty’a noise in the world today, it don’t need any help from us.”
Jon’s hand fell to the ignition panel. His fingers flew over the sequence strokes purely from muscle memory and finally lingered over the start button.
“Ready?” he grinned at Cooper.
“Sure ‘nough.”
“Then its go time.”
Jon’s finger pressed down on the button and the Reaper began to hum. The hum was joined by the sound of rushing air as Jon pulled the lever to open the lift vents, pushing the whole of the monstrous machine into the air.
“Straps secure?” Jon asked.
“Check.”
“Guidance, Blade control?”
“Check, check”.
With the last check confirmed Jon pressed forward on the stick, a slight scraping could be heard as the vent panels shifted beneath them driving the massive Reaper forward and out into the light of day.
*******************
The sound of gunfire rang through his ears as his finger squeezed back on the trigger again releasing another flash from the end of his barrel. The twin Long-arms lit the night like fireworks at some ancient parade. His hands rising and falling in alternate succession, as if he was conducting a symphony of death, but in place of a baton he led the orchestration with flying lead.
The bullets ripped through the oncoming masses but did nothing to halt their approach. Almost as fast as they fell, they would rise again. He looked over to his partner, also engaged in battle, pumping and firing his rifle into the oncoming gang of lumbering bodies.
“How you doin over there Jack?” he yelled over the sound of gunfire.
“Ah, you know...” he fired a shot, ripping one of the targets legs off at the knee; it spilled forward to its chest.
“...makes me feel special that we’re getting so much attention.”
Jack pointed his barrel down and let loose another slug into the legless bodies head.
“Fall back, I’m almost out!” he yelled to Jack, stepping back, his guns still blazing one after the other.
“Jesus Hicks, there’s too many!” Jack yelled, moving backwards toward a shadowed alley.
“God damn Breathers are everywhere tonight.”
“Must be ‘cause you smell so good.” Jack snickered
They quickly side stepped into an alley, using the corner as cover to reload their weapons. Hicks crouched. By the time threw down the empty cylinders of his Long-arms and dropped fresh ones into them Jack had turned the corner to start firing again.
“That’s odd.”
“What?”
“They stopped followin’ us.”
“What are you talking about? Stopped following us?” Hicks glanced up at his friend.
“No, I’m serious; they’ve turned tail and are leavin’.” Jack began to chuckle
“I’m not jokin’, look at ‘em, shambling their Breather hides right on back the way they came!”
Hick’s stood and walked out of the alley.
“Well, what are they doin’, they got a town meetin’ to go to ‘er something?” He asked Jack.
“Can’t say that I have any inclination.” Jack replied as he removed his hat to scratch his head in confusion.
“I’ve never seen that in all my trips to D-town.”
Hicks’ sentence was cut short as a figure flew over him as if it had leapt, tackling one of the retreating Breathers to the ground. The figure stooped and Hicks watched as whatever it was began to tear and eat at the fallen prey.
“What the hell is that?!” Hicks yelled, turning to look at Jack. He saw an eerie glow coming from behind him. Two tiny pin-points, the kind of glow an animals eyes make when the light catches them just right. He tried to yell but was too late, whatever the thing was, had already sprung. Its feet landed on the back of Jacks shoulders; pushing him forward and knocking him down, just as the other had done to the Breather. One massive hand gripped the back of Jacks head, and the other cupped his chin. The hand was twice that of any normal mans. The skin ripped around the predominant joints, exposing the bone of incredibly oversized knuckles.
Hicks’ Long-arm rose before him, but it was too late. Quicker than he could pull the trigger back it had twisted Jack’s neck clean around with a loud snap. His face dropped as he glanced to the ground in a moment of reverence for his lost companion. When he lifted his eyes back up, he noted how it peered at him. Stooping over the body of his dead friend, it was almost man like in appearance, and had buried its grotesque hand into Jacks broken neck. In an almost defiant manner it sneered and jerked out his spinal column.
Hicks raised his gun once again. Looking the retched thing in the eyes, his finger slowly tensed on the trigger relieving the slack. It began to squat for another pounce. As the massive body began to heave upwards Hicks gave his trigger the final squeeze. The force of the shot sent the creature hurling backwards. The bullet ripped under its jaw, blowing out the top of its head. He looked over his shoulder only to see dozens more of them pouncing and ripping at the retreating Breathers. His gunfire had caught the attention of a few of them, now glaring at him from down the street. His eyes locked with theirs as they began to knock and scrape their massive boney knuckles against the ground.
“What the hell?”
The knocking and scratching echoed down the streets of Desolation City like war drums, and was soon doubled and then tripled as the others joined in. They had all stopped what they were doing and turned to face him. Dozens of eyes reflected back the light of the night sky and his own eyes widened as he noticed them all beginning to move.
“Aw-Hell.” He muttered, turning to run.
Managing to stay just beyond their boney outstretched reach, he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see one of them descending upon him. Raising one of his guns back under the opposite arm and let loose a round. The bullet sped to its destination with incredible accuracy, causing it to fall like a rock to the ground below.
“Sweet Mother Earth I love this baby.” He said giving the gun a quick kiss without breaking stride.
Ahead he could see their H.R.C.’s right where they left them before venturing into the city. He was almost there.
Pushing even harder he managed to put a little more space between him and the creatures. The spurs of his boots jingled as he ran up to the cycle. His hands methodically spun his Long-arms into their holsters at his hips. Grabbing the handles he threw a leg over the seat, swinging himself up onto the bike. Kicking his legs out and snapping them back down against the cycles sides; he jammed his spurs into the ignition slots, causing it to roar to life. With a squeeze of the throttle the bike repelled itself nearly three feet from the ground hovering in place. Dust and debris shot into the air as he sped into the distance. Descending from the sky three of the creatures had landed on the very spot he had just vacated. Grabbing one of his Long-arms from its resting place he turned and shot a final farewell into each of their skulls.
Flashes of rust colored lightning illuminated the sky behind him as he rode. It was a radiation storm. They were common enough. Nothing he or any other survivor hadn’t seen all too frequently. He turned one last time to look at the city, said a silent prayer and turned back around. Pulling open a lapel of his long jacket, he glanced down. There inside one of his pockets was the thing Jack had died for, a single vial of medicine for his employers’ daughter.
“She better be worth it...” He thought as he squeezed the throttle tighter and headed for Eden Valley.
Edited for corrections
************************************************** ************************
In the distance, the sun was just breaking over the ridge. Jon Brackham crunched his way across the ground, pulling on his hole filled gloves. Overhead the clouds churned and boiled as they always did on Desolation, unnatural, but beautiful none the less. The bomb seemed to have had that effect on most of the world.
He slowly approached his outbuilding. Its walls were beaten and battered. Time had definitely taken its toll on the old structure, just as it had on him. He reminisced of when it was a younger, sturdier building. Back when it seemed they would both last forever. But time has a way of corroding things, especially on Desolation. Enduring the radiation storms, earthquakes and the various abominations the bomb had created definitely had taken its toll on everything.
“Time to work” He thought to himself, pulling the Bola of his hat tighter around his neck.
Stepping inside, the smell of metal and oil assaulted his nostrils. He breathed it all in and reached for the light switch. A quick flicker and sparking sound from the overhead lights could be heard as they illuminated the belly of the building. He slowly made his way over to the mechanical monster that lived within the stomach of this time torn structure. The A3 Reaper, a miracle of modern farming ingenuity. Its reinforced body stood twice as tall as Jon. Nestled atop three massive lift vents, the cab was large enough to house two operators needed to control it. Protruding from its sides were two hydraulic arms that each housed the reaper blades, a system of three long curved blades, laser sharpened for clean quick harvesting, while another two arms held the catching baskets and scoops.
Jon ran his hand over the back of one of the blades as he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.
“’bout time you got your bones out here!” he said without turning around to see who it was.
“Sorry Pop. I had to give Mom a hand with cleanin’ up the dishes.”
Jon slowly turned raising an eyebrow at his only son. He was turning out to be a fine young man, a strong able-bodied youth. It hardly seemed that it had been nineteen years since he was born. How small he was then, innocent and pure, just like the sky used to be. He looked so much like his mother; she was in almost every aspect him. Except his eyes, those were his.
“Well... no harm no foul I s’pose. Now lets get to work, we got a long day ahead of us.”
His son vaulted up onto the Reaper, strapping himself quickly into his operating seat, while Jon slowly followed.
“You really think it will be that long? I mean we only got a quarter of a harvest left. We should have that done by mid-afternoon shouldn’t we Pop?”
Jon turned once again and looked at his son.
“I don’t think so Coop. If we hit it hard and fast like the other days then yea, you’d be right. But bein’ so near to bein’ done, there’s no need to rush. We’ll just take our time and enjoy it. Besides, I think you need to slow down some and take in the quiet. There’s plenty’a noise in the world today, it don’t need any help from us.”
Jon’s hand fell to the ignition panel. His fingers flew over the sequence strokes purely from muscle memory and finally lingered over the start button.
“Ready?” he grinned at Cooper.
“Sure ‘nough.”
“Then its go time.”
Jon’s finger pressed down on the button and the Reaper began to hum. The hum was joined by the sound of rushing air as Jon pulled the lever to open the lift vents, pushing the whole of the monstrous machine into the air.
“Straps secure?” Jon asked.
“Check.”
“Guidance, Blade control?”
“Check, check”.
With the last check confirmed Jon pressed forward on the stick, a slight scraping could be heard as the vent panels shifted beneath them driving the massive Reaper forward and out into the light of day.
*******************
The sound of gunfire rang through his ears as his finger squeezed back on the trigger again releasing another flash from the end of his barrel. The twin Long-arms lit the night like fireworks at some ancient parade. His hands rising and falling in alternate succession, as if he was conducting a symphony of death, but in place of a baton he led the orchestration with flying lead.
The bullets ripped through the oncoming masses but did nothing to halt their approach. Almost as fast as they fell, they would rise again. He looked over to his partner, also engaged in battle, pumping and firing his rifle into the oncoming gang of lumbering bodies.
“How you doin over there Jack?” he yelled over the sound of gunfire.
“Ah, you know...” he fired a shot, ripping one of the targets legs off at the knee; it spilled forward to its chest.
“...makes me feel special that we’re getting so much attention.”
Jack pointed his barrel down and let loose another slug into the legless bodies head.
“Fall back, I’m almost out!” he yelled to Jack, stepping back, his guns still blazing one after the other.
“Jesus Hicks, there’s too many!” Jack yelled, moving backwards toward a shadowed alley.
“God damn Breathers are everywhere tonight.”
“Must be ‘cause you smell so good.” Jack snickered
They quickly side stepped into an alley, using the corner as cover to reload their weapons. Hicks crouched. By the time threw down the empty cylinders of his Long-arms and dropped fresh ones into them Jack had turned the corner to start firing again.
“That’s odd.”
“What?”
“They stopped followin’ us.”
“What are you talking about? Stopped following us?” Hicks glanced up at his friend.
“No, I’m serious; they’ve turned tail and are leavin’.” Jack began to chuckle
“I’m not jokin’, look at ‘em, shambling their Breather hides right on back the way they came!”
Hick’s stood and walked out of the alley.
“Well, what are they doin’, they got a town meetin’ to go to ‘er something?” He asked Jack.
“Can’t say that I have any inclination.” Jack replied as he removed his hat to scratch his head in confusion.
“I’ve never seen that in all my trips to D-town.”
Hicks’ sentence was cut short as a figure flew over him as if it had leapt, tackling one of the retreating Breathers to the ground. The figure stooped and Hicks watched as whatever it was began to tear and eat at the fallen prey.
“What the hell is that?!” Hicks yelled, turning to look at Jack. He saw an eerie glow coming from behind him. Two tiny pin-points, the kind of glow an animals eyes make when the light catches them just right. He tried to yell but was too late, whatever the thing was, had already sprung. Its feet landed on the back of Jacks shoulders; pushing him forward and knocking him down, just as the other had done to the Breather. One massive hand gripped the back of Jacks head, and the other cupped his chin. The hand was twice that of any normal mans. The skin ripped around the predominant joints, exposing the bone of incredibly oversized knuckles.
Hicks’ Long-arm rose before him, but it was too late. Quicker than he could pull the trigger back it had twisted Jack’s neck clean around with a loud snap. His face dropped as he glanced to the ground in a moment of reverence for his lost companion. When he lifted his eyes back up, he noted how it peered at him. Stooping over the body of his dead friend, it was almost man like in appearance, and had buried its grotesque hand into Jacks broken neck. In an almost defiant manner it sneered and jerked out his spinal column.
Hicks raised his gun once again. Looking the retched thing in the eyes, his finger slowly tensed on the trigger relieving the slack. It began to squat for another pounce. As the massive body began to heave upwards Hicks gave his trigger the final squeeze. The force of the shot sent the creature hurling backwards. The bullet ripped under its jaw, blowing out the top of its head. He looked over his shoulder only to see dozens more of them pouncing and ripping at the retreating Breathers. His gunfire had caught the attention of a few of them, now glaring at him from down the street. His eyes locked with theirs as they began to knock and scrape their massive boney knuckles against the ground.
“What the hell?”
The knocking and scratching echoed down the streets of Desolation City like war drums, and was soon doubled and then tripled as the others joined in. They had all stopped what they were doing and turned to face him. Dozens of eyes reflected back the light of the night sky and his own eyes widened as he noticed them all beginning to move.
“Aw-Hell.” He muttered, turning to run.
Managing to stay just beyond their boney outstretched reach, he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see one of them descending upon him. Raising one of his guns back under the opposite arm and let loose a round. The bullet sped to its destination with incredible accuracy, causing it to fall like a rock to the ground below.
“Sweet Mother Earth I love this baby.” He said giving the gun a quick kiss without breaking stride.
Ahead he could see their H.R.C.’s right where they left them before venturing into the city. He was almost there.
Pushing even harder he managed to put a little more space between him and the creatures. The spurs of his boots jingled as he ran up to the cycle. His hands methodically spun his Long-arms into their holsters at his hips. Grabbing the handles he threw a leg over the seat, swinging himself up onto the bike. Kicking his legs out and snapping them back down against the cycles sides; he jammed his spurs into the ignition slots, causing it to roar to life. With a squeeze of the throttle the bike repelled itself nearly three feet from the ground hovering in place. Dust and debris shot into the air as he sped into the distance. Descending from the sky three of the creatures had landed on the very spot he had just vacated. Grabbing one of his Long-arms from its resting place he turned and shot a final farewell into each of their skulls.
Flashes of rust colored lightning illuminated the sky behind him as he rode. It was a radiation storm. They were common enough. Nothing he or any other survivor hadn’t seen all too frequently. He turned one last time to look at the city, said a silent prayer and turned back around. Pulling open a lapel of his long jacket, he glanced down. There inside one of his pockets was the thing Jack had died for, a single vial of medicine for his employers’ daughter.
“She better be worth it...” He thought as he squeezed the throttle tighter and headed for Eden Valley.