Machine God: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Final Draft)

Canyon Dash

"Roll out," Hecto said.

We unstrapped from our seats, left the APC through the opened hatch and touched sandy ground with the Abandoned City, Sector 7. The driver parked the Fireturtle II inside a ruinous compound. The dust devoured the ground floor and seemed to creep up the pillars. Or maybe the structure was sinking into the sand, it was hard to tell.

The APC's exterior hull changed its color to the surrounding. The sandy-brown rear morphed into a concrete grayish mix and blended in.

Interesting camouflage technology.

Hecto's mighty voice caught my attention again.

"I've updated the location on your map. We stay on route."

A zigzag line flickered over the sector map on the display on my commcuff. It crossed buildings and led straight to an octagon-shaped foundation that must have been the forsaken mall.

"Let's motor," Hecto said and took charge.

We ran next to the broken house fronts of the ruins and entered the back alleys.

What a view.

Hardened sand dominated the ground, drowned in rubble and wreckages. I still wondered what had caused this calamity, but this was hardly the time to ask for clarification. We entered desolate rooms through holes in the wall, climbed over the rubble and cleared every chamber in our path. The motion sensor of my commcuff kept quiet.

"Clear," Ceedee said, so we proceeded to the next rooms.

It would have been far easier to tread the wide-open streets, but as Hecto had said before, sniper fire and IEDs endangered the march through the main roads.

While staying in formation, I inspected the gear of my comrades. Ceedee carried some sort of sniper rifle that must have been almost two meters long. A desert beauty with one heck of a scope and a mechanized tripod for stability. Probably packed quite a punch, just like Ceedee's attitude.

The guy called Darwin carried a scattergun, Glitch a modular UMP and Hecto, of course, the Bulwark pride—the AK-BL8 with its attached crystalline blade. The weapon of my choice, if it hadn't been for my low standing. Well, if I showed my worth during this mission, the committee would grant me a similar firearm.

At least that's what I hoped.

When we entered another desolate apartment on the first floor, Hecto raised his left fist. Everyone stopped.

I whispered.

"What is it?"

I pushed myself against the wall and peeked over the torn-apart window ledge. The sight showed an empty intersection covered in craters and rusty car wreckages. The sun bleached everything into a golden tint. An eerie silence devoured the scenario, interrupted only by the wind whistling through the ruins.

"My scanners don't pick up anything," I said.

"That doesn't mean crap. They only detect movement, not camping snipers."

"Do you think...?"

I looked through a hole in the wall facing the intersection. The nearby, half-finished skyscrapers offered a perfect vantage point for sharpshooters.

"We'll avoid the intersection and move around."

He updated the route on our maps. Glitch intertwined.

"But that's going to extend our mission time."

"Do you rather want to return with a bullet in your head?"

Nobody did.

"Then let's move."

We chose the adjacent building, shot up the stairs and halted near the ledge with the broken windows. Under us waited a back alley with too much wreckage, so we used our grapple guns to traverse the abyss overground.

Aim.

Shoot.

Connect to the cable and ride the line.

Since my extensive training back at the Bulwark facility, using my grapple gun felt as natural as sprinting through the city canyons. It felt almost like Basic again, aside from the tension that impregnated the dusty air. The worst that could happen in the training facility was a permission punishment, but here, in the so-called Lost Lands, danger seemed to loom around every corner. Even though the enemy type was still unclear, at least to me.

We arrived at the midpoint on our route. In order to reach the mall, we had to traverse a major road, which meant we faced potential sniper fire from the adjacent buildings. Hecto grumbled.

"We're all going to cross the street at the same time. But I want you to keep distance by at least three meters. And run in zigzag lines. The more unpredictable your movement, the fewer the chances of getting shot. Clear?"

"Clear," the team said.

The adrenaline entered my veins and sharpened my senses.

I shot out the shadows and dashed over the sandy four-lane street. Ran like a drunken idiot and leaped from one point to another, making sure no sharpshooter could figure out my movements. Heck, even I couldn't.

One by one, we reached the other side safely and inhaled the air in the shadows of the torn-open shop.

So far, so good.

My hand wiped the sand from my eyes. Man, it looked like I jackknifed through a sand tsunami.

"Don't stop, we've got to keep on moving," Hecto said.

We climbed over the rubble, entered the nearby houses and snuck along the inner walls. Hecto peeked around the corner and whistled. Ceedee stood next to him and swung her SR.

"What is it?"

"I think we just found our mall."

He added,

"And what a mall it is."