The scene AGS-9 once carved into the wall of the cave had come alive! The trees swayed gently and the strange firework energy crackled as it soared upwards. Close to the ceiling of the cave the portal in space was etched into the rock and it, too, pulsated in Atlas' eyes. How could it? Atlas was hallucinating. He was groggy- exhausted; his head swayed back and forth as his eyelids twitched. Saying Atlas hadn't gotten much sleep over the last month was an understatement. He was focusing on his breathing because he couldn't focus on anything else at that moment. His eyes burned and Atlas didn't know if that was more from sleep deprivation or crying, but he didn't think he was capable of doing either at this point. Atlas knew the time to leave Camp Wellspring behind was upon him, but he felt as far from prepared as he'd ever been and came up with every reason possible to put off his departure for just a while longer.
Atlas forced himself to think about the last month to see if he had learned enough lessons to move forward. It was a nice break from the anxiety, melancholy and despair he'd been cycling through lately. It was better than the nightmares that had kept him awake.
He thought about his first rhino kill. He had been quietly sobbing, staring at the floor, on and off, for who knows how many days after AGS-9 died. Atlas was in no shape to do the axe training the android had prescribed with some of his last words. He only stopped to eat and drink, but once he ran out of food Atlas couldn't come up with any more excuses to stay frozen in place.
"This is how you starve to death, Atlas," he mumbled to himself. The hungrier he got, the more miserable he felt. The more miserable he felt, the less Atlas wanted to move at all, which only led to the hunger getting worse. With a sigh, Atlas strained, stood up, grabbed his axe- the arm of his dead friend, and made his way down from Camp Wellspring to hunt something to keep himself alive.
The way Atlas saw it he had two choices. He could go back the way they had come when they first got to the mountains and hunt some rats. It would be easy, but would also take a long time to collect enough food. Atlas' other option was to go forward in the direction he'd eventually be traveling anyhow. It was the land they'd been exploring for months since setting up at Camp Wellspring and he knew it well. There weren't many rats that way, but there were rhinos.
Atlas stared down into the forest behind Camp Wellspring. It felt like years since he and AGS-9 came desperately through it, yet there was a comfort in looking back. It looked appealing. It was the easy way. His legs wanted to move that way. He took one step, but stopped himself. Suddenly his brother, Pallas, popped into his mind. If Pallas were there, he'd have gone the other way- the hard way. He would have shown bravery, gone after a rhino, and killed one just to spite Atlas if he had to. Pallas had always pushed Atlas that final inch when Atlas was on the fence about something. If there were a challenge to face, Pallas was always eager to embrace it, even when he'd likely fail, just in case he could out-do Atlas.
The corner of Atlas' mouth turned up as he let slip the twitch of a tiny, brief smile. He turned and headed for rhino territory. He'd watched AGS-9 kill plenty of rhinos. He knew where to strike. He knew how to strike. He had just never been able to sneak up on one, and the last time he tried was when his leg got injured. Atlas came upon a rhino quickly enough. He kept his distance and readied his axe, waiting for the perfect moment. Atlas struggled to suppress the unsettling memory of the last rhino he encountered- the one that landed him in a cast. It was distracting him. He shook his head to focus, but in doing so Atlas caught this rhino's attention.
"Dammit!" yelled Atlas as the spooked rhino charged, just like last time. Atlas wasn't about to let history repeat itself. He thought about what his little brother would do- facing the challenge head on. Atlas ran at the rhino, axe drawn, and rolled into a somersault just before they collided. As he spun back up, Atlas raised the axe and just barely managed to catch the neck of the rhino right where AGS-9 had always struck. The beast was stunned. Atlas seized the opportunity and swung again. And again. It was sloppy, but Atlas knew right where to chop. The beast fell. In his excitement, Atlas forgot to move and the rhino crashed down onto his leg. "No!" he gasped, but was able to pull his leg free unharmed. Atlas' heart was pounding, but he gathered his composure and with the adrenaline of victory he hauled the food back to camp. He did this by himself.
The good spirits that the rhino hunt put Atlas in lasted about as long as his hunger. Once Atlas filled his belly, the harsh reality of his situation came crashing back down on him. He had barely gotten through his encounter with the rhino. There was a lot that could have gone wrong and Atlas chalked it up to luck that it didn't. That's when he started training with the axe. It was what AGS-9 wanted.
The memory of the rhino kill faded. Atlas looked groggily over his shoulder. AGS-9's motionless body was still leaning against the wall. The android had run out of power, but more than that Atlas' friend had died. Atlas couldn't bring himself to move the body anywhere else, so with every waking moment spent in Camp Wellspring Atlas was one glance away from his very own, personal torment. He looked next to AGS-9 where his two legs were piled.
He thought about when he went back for the legs. Atlas had gathered plenty of wood to practice making fires and stay warm. The logs also made excellent training tools for his axe. With every other swing, spin, and strike, Atlas would be facing AGS-9's direction and feel uncomfortable. At first it made Atlas sad, but after a while he blocked out that sadness and convinced himself that AGS-9 was just another decoration like a stool or a bucket. It was easy- he didn't even have any legs.
His legs! Atlas had forgotten to go back for AGS-9's legs after he first rescued him. He couldn't get that out of his mind as he went on with his practicing. The android was incomplete. His android soul could have been restless. That's the worry that refused to leave Atlas alone, anyhow. He went from sad, to indifferent, to angry. It started out as anger directed inward for forgetting to go back, but eventually Atlas started visualizing the raptors. When he slept, he dreamed about the raptors attacking AGS-9. He had only seen one from far away- the one time it emerged from the lake, so his imagination took violent, terrifying liberties with what the beasts were capable of in his mind. He became increasingly angry at the raptors. He swung harder, spun faster, and struck the wood logs with unstable force. It got to a point where Atlas felt blinded by his rage. If it weren't for the raptors AGS-9 would still be alive. He and Atlas could make a plan. They could stick to the plan. The only plan Atlas had now was whatever he decided to do. With that freedom he listened to his heart and prepared to go get the legs back so AGS-9 could be complete.
Atlas moved quickly through the woods. He was full of energy now. He was full of grit. This was another big mission to accomplish on his own, even if it was just a find-and-retrieve mission. This path was burned into Atlas' memory by now, too. He'd taken it the last few times he went out so it was fresh in his mind. It didn't hurt that the sand preserved his tracks fairly well from when he brought AGS-9 back.
It wasn't long before Atlas slowed to a walk. He wasn't tired, but just didn't want to pass where he had left the legs leaning against a tree. It was quiet as he walked. There was no artificial banter synthesized to sound human. There was no muted humming and clicking that accompanied an android performing movements based on algorithms designed to make it seem human. This was a new kind of silence that Atlas would have to get used to. He found himself looking at the ground a he walked, reminiscing about the sounds AGS-9 would make. He once found found them annoying, but now desperately missed them. When he caught himself, Atlas looked back up to focus. Thankfully he hadn't gone too far. He was right where he had left the legs. Atlas moved towards the tree where one was sticking out but stumbled with his step as a raptor walked out from the same place. It lowered its head aggressively and stepped out fully from behind the tree.
Is this the one that killed Aegeus?
Didn't he say there were two of them?
Why did it come back for the legs?
Was it waiting for me?
Does it want to kill me?
How do I kill it?
Those were some of the questions Atlas would have asked himself and tried to figure out if he wasn't immediately overcome with a violent rage at the sight of the beast. The raptor took a predatory step towards Atlas, its foot gliding over the sad silently. Atlas let loose a primal yell. His legs tightened as every muscle he could engage provided a lightning burst of energy. He swung his axe up from his side and charged at the raptor in a full sprint, screaming the whole time.
The raptor, clearly not used to being attacked, took a cautious step backwards, but it didn't matter because Atlas had leapt from his running start through the air and tackled it to the ground.
"You killed him! You killed him!" Atlas was yelling at the top of his lungs. His voice cracked as he screamed those words over and over. The boy was in a trance. The raptor reached towards Atlas, who had mounted the fallen beast's torso and started hacking at its head and neck with his axe. Atlas used his free hand to push the raptor's arms down. It flailed its arms wildly, but Atlas wasn't getting thrown off. He hacked at the raptor's head relentlessly, yelling barbarically the entire time. Before long, the raptor fell motionless. Deep scratches from flailing, metallic claws started bleeding as Atlas stood up, panting. His forehead, left arm, and back had all been cut, but the rush of adrenaline kept him going. With wide eyes and a face gritty with sand from the tussle, Atlas stared at the dead creature. He stood over it, axe ready, for five straight minutes, just staring; waiting; daring it to move. He finally looked up and made eye contact with a second raptor that had been watching the whole time. It was standing at least 100 feet away and it seemed to Atlas like it was trying to decide whether or not to attack. Atlas' adrenaline began pumping again and he jumped on top of the fallen raptor, screaming and pointing his axe at the second one.
"You too? You too! I'm ready!" Atlas yelled as loud as he could. His throat was sore. His voice was raspy. He seemed to get the point across, though, because the raptor in the distance turned and hightailed it in the opposite direction at a sprint. Atlas watched until sight of it got lost in the trees. "Tell your friends," Atlas mumbled as he picked up AGS-9's legs and headed back to camp.
Atlas shuddered after recalling his fight with the raptor. He rubbed the scar tissue on his arm from the raptor's cut two weeks ago as he snapped back to his exhausted reality. He thought the nightmares would have gotten better after he killed that raptor in real life, but apparently his dreams didn't get the memo, because it only got harder to sleep after that. He relived the uncontrollable rage every time he saw a raptor in his dream and it shook him to his core. Even if he killed the raptor again in the dream, AGS-9 was still dead. He was still abandoned here. Every horrible thing about Atlas' existence played on repeat in one form or another every time he slipped into unconsciousness. His mind even made up some extra stuff- like the bodies of his parents buried in the wreckage of The Persephone. No, sleep wasn't somewhere Atlas wanted to go.
Atlas was sick of staring at the wall. The hallucination of the drawing moving was starting to upset him. He had questions about that night that he'd never know the answer to. Then again, he'd be dead soon so it probably wasn't worth worrying about. It was then that his sister popped into his head. He tried to shake it off as another hallucination, but Demeter smiled at him. She didn't even have to say anything. Atlas had always felt close to his sister and sometimes they thought they could reach each other's minds. He took a chance and embraced this hallucination.
"I know. I need to go. I need to go find the ship. I need to find our parents, alive or dead," he said out loud as the mental image of his sister nodded peacefully. "I'm tired though. I can't sleep, Deemy," Atlas sniffed. He would have started crying at the thought of having another human to express his feelings to. Oh, how he longed for that, but he was too dehydrated to shed tears and his muscles were too weak to contract and oblige his desire to sob. All he could do was sniff.
"Please let me sleep," Atlas cried dryly to the thought of his sister, begging her to somehow shield him from the torture that grated against his spirit for the last month. Atlas slept for 2 days straight.
When Atlas finally woke, he chugged all of the water he had stored and ate a huge portion of rhino meat. He felt truly refreshed. It was like a curse had been lifted. Atlas didn't feel happy- not by a long shot, but he felt ready which was something he was terrified he'd never feel again. He turned to AGS-9's body.
"Aegeus, I can't take you with me. You're too heavy. I have to leave you here and I'm really sorry about that. I love you, Aegeus. You saved my life. I'll try to make you proud out there," Atlas didn't feel silly talking to the heap of metal. He was saying goodbye to his best friend.
With clarity he hadn't known for weeks, Atlas gathered some essential tools and supplies from around the camp and crammed them into a huge knapsack he had already fashioned from rhino hides. He equipped his armor and holstered his axe at his side. Before he took his hand off the axe, Atlas realized something and laughed. He was still glad he went back for AGS-9's legs, but if he had the android's arm with him he would never be complete anyhow. Atlas walked up to AGS-9 again.
"I hope you don't mind, but I might need this," Atlas grabbed the android leg that was in better shape and set it next to his pack. It would weigh him down, but not so much that he couldn't manage. Atlas didn't plan on coming back to Camp Wellspring.
Atlas remembered one final thing before leaving. He grabbed the piece of scrap metal that AGS-9 had originally used to etch the drawing of the clear-sky night. On the wall opposite that drawing, and right by AGS-9's body, Atlas sketched the Earth. He added marks for the 6 space colonies. It reminded him of PJ's markings. Atlas also added a stick figure underneath, holding it all up. It was his signature.
'ATLAS WAS HERE.' He had to.
Atlas took a few more minutes to take in what was left in the camp. His mind, body, and spirit had all gotten immensely stronger here with AGS-9's help. If he was going to be thankful for anything since he'd become stranded it was Camp Wellspring.
Finally, Atlas dropped his pack and AGS-9's leg down the rock wall and descended himself. He put it all on, the leg draped over his shoulders, at the bottom and went off in a relatively good mood. AGS-9 had marked many of the trees ahead with arrows that kept Atlas' destination in front of him. It was just one more gift.
It was a good thing Atlas started the next leg of his journey in good spirits because over the coming months he would be worn down all over again. This time, though, he was alone.