Greenblatt ducked behind one of the computer consoles and tried to peek around it, but it wasn’t clear where exactly he could look. There were sounds of footsteps pounding throughout the lab, but whenever he went to check, the creature wasn’t there.

  At times, he could swear he caught it out of the corner of his eye. A shimmer of refraction could be made out, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Greenblatt needed a way to kill the creature, otherwise he would have to abandon his plans of arming the Disciples. And he hated to leave his curiosities unsatisfied.

  There were some options. He was obviously unable to fight the creature head on. The speed of its tongue was enough to decide that outcome for him. No, he needed to use his head. There were plenty of heavy objects to tip over onto it. He could take cover from that tongue while he shoved something over. There was no telling how fast the creature was natively, however.

  Another idea was an isolation chamber that was lit with freshly powered fluorescents. If he could lure the thing in there, he could trap it inside. It was risky, sure, but it was a good plan. Then the thought of it breaching containment reminded him that he didn’t know how powerful the beast was. Greenblatt reconsidered.

  The stomping was getting louder, and Greenblatt could feel it shaking the floor beneath his feet. He was about to peek around the computer console when he caught the glimmer of the beast in the corner of his eye again. The shimmering thing opened its mouth wide, and Greenblatt rolled just in time for the tongue to whip past his torso. It smashed the console, and when it withdrew, it sliced along the jagged metal and exposed wiring.

  Its pained mewling was what gave him the idea. Greenblatt grabbed the closest thing to him, a decaying screwdriver, and swung it at the tongue, but it arced and hit nothing. That wouldn’t work. He had to find something the tongue could strike and instantly kill it. An exposed power coil or reactor would work nicely. But this wasn’t the dangerous workshops of the wasteland. It was easier to find something as unsafe as an unattended reactor when its operators didn’t know any better. The people who built this place knew what they were doing.

  Greenblatt ran for his life. He wanted to stay visible enough to the creature to entice it to follow, but not such an easy target that he could be swept up by its tongue. His eyes searched for anything else. A heated grill could do it, or maybe even aiming for one of the light fixtures and praying there was enough voltage flowing through it to kill the creature.

  He found his answer when he rounded a corner and tripped on the grated floor. As he crashed into the metal, pain flared in his side. He could hear the creature coming close, so close that it rattled the bars of the grated floor. Greenblatt pushed himself up and peered beneath the bars.

  For whatever reason, there was a fan down there. It was large enough that Greenblatt could fit two of himself across its diameter. The blades spun lazily in its bracket, but the warlord could see a step ladder and a control console on one wall leading down to it. He realized it was meant for maintenance to shut down the blades to carry on their work in the lower levels.

  The creature’s footsteps were making the grate jump now, and Greenblatt could see where it opened up and led down. He scrambled for it and heard the curious, throaty gurgles of his pursuer right behind him. The grate jumped again, and he rolled for it, nearly falling down the exhaust shaft before snatching a rung on the wall.

  Greenblatt knew he had to act quickly. The monster was dropping its camouflage now as it gave up hiding and went in for the kill. A tapered head with horns growing over its eyes stared down at him and hissed. The body’s natural color was a bright green, and it had a fat torso with skinny limbs. It couldn’t fit its tongue through the bars to snatch him up, but there was no telling how long that would last. Thin, clawed fingers were already trying to find where it lifted.

  One leg after another, Greenblatt climbed down the rungs like his life depended on it. His heart hammered in his chest when he heard the grate creak as it lifted. The controls for the fan were right next to his foot when something heavy and wet smacked him in the back of the neck. He was knocked off of the ladder and fell screaming into the void beneath the fan. As darkness approached and the fear of death was all but a reality, he was yanked back up as if on a bungie cord.

  The tongue was retracting, and for a moment, Greenblatt didn’t know whether he preferred to fall to his death or to be eaten alive by the thing above him. It wasn’t a choice he had, necessarily, but the brief thought was dreadful enough that he thought he might instead die of a heart attack.

  But death never came. As it happens, the warlord of the Black Thumbs was a vehement follower of the Karmic teachings. And Karma was in a good mood that evening.

  Greenblatt sailed towards the creature, but in the monster’s animalistic shortsightedness, it only lifted the grate partially. Just enough to get its tongue through. It hadn’t calculated the size of its prey. When Greenblatt finally made it to the top of the exhaust shaft, he slammed into the grate, causing it to pop up into the thing’s face. It slammed the beast and it released Greenblatt. The warlord fell again.

  He managed to crash into the fan’s bracket and cling to it for dear life. His legs kicked for purchase, and above, the monster’s pained cries were turning into angry roars. Greenblatt could hear it wrenching back the grate and flinging it aside. Somewhere in the lab, he heard it crash.

  One of the fan blades lazily rolled towards him, and he used it as a foothold to finish his climb. The bracket was made of three thin metal bars that stretched from the center of the fan to the outer walls of the shaft. Each bar was about the width of his foot, and as he balanced on it, he realized he needed to move quickly. Karma would not allow him to be so lucky a second time.

  Or would it? Greenblatt was making a decent pace across the bars. He didn’t have an acrobat’s grace, but it was faster than he expected he could make it. But it wouldn’t be fast enough to dodge another whip of the tongue. He tried to pick up speed, balancing with his arms out. He lost his balance just in time for the tongue to go flying past his head and stick to one of the fan blades. That was it. That was his chance.

  Greenblatt nearly leapt to the fan controls on the wall. One hand held the rungs of the ladder for dear life while the other twisted the fan’s throttle all the way up and then worked the lever. Years of decay had rusted it into place, and any moment now, the tongue could get unstuck and return for a second chance at its prey. Greenblatt pulled on the lever so hard the muscles in his arm felt like they were going to snap like over tuned piano wire. Finally, he took a leap of faith. He let go of the ladder and held onto the lever.

  There was a squealing protest as the lever came loose, then suddenly, it snapped downwards. Greenblatt hugged it tight, and the sound of grinding metal screamed from beneath him. The fan blades turned faster and faster, clipping the soles of his boots as he tried desperately to cling to the lever.

  Soon, they were at full speed, and the tongue was still attached. The organ was being pulled and wrapped in the machinery like taffy. Back at the top of the shaft, the creature was crying out and protesting. It wrenched backwards, then was thrown into the shaft. It hit the spinning blades and sprayed blood all over Greenblatt. The warlord saw one of the blades lodge in its head, then the whole fan was coming apart. The violent crash of the creature had shattered the rusted bolts holding it all in place, and the bracket tore from the wall. The monster and the fan fell into the void below, and Greenblatt heard them crash a long way down.

  With great effort, Greenblatt pulled himself back up the shaft. When he finally made it back to the lab, he collapsed on the floor and tried to catch his breath. It was decided then that he would have to create something that would kill all of the megafauna in the valley, even if that meant synthesizing a new disease or remaking the gamma bombs that created the twin suns in the first place. Anything to never see a butterfly or a chameleon in his life ever again.

  After a brief rest, he managed to pull himself up and look around the lab. Even after all of that chaos, he thought he still had everything he needed to put his plan in action. The first order of business was to find where they stored the shale.

  Across the jungle, Shi-Toh and Mac travelled the edge of the river followed by the small legion of lobotomites. Both were exhausted and dreading the meeting, but where else was there to go? At this point of the journey, there was no turning back.

  Shi-Toh led on at a snail’s pace. The noise of the clan’s rambunctious partying could be heard close by, and it slowed the journey. Just a week ago, that noise would have made Mac fly into a frenzy and crash through the jungle in a rampage. Now, she almost wanted to jump in the river and hide.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “What do you think they’ll do to me, Macaw?” the feathered man asked. His voice was somber but contented, as though he had accepted his fate.

  The girl shrugged, but then she realized he couldn’t even see her. She was a good ten feet behind him, and he didn’t care enough to gauge her reaction. A thick film of venom filled the back of her throat, and she spat it at him, “If you’re lucky, Jackmaw will shoot you and make it quick. If you’re not… he’ll skin you alive.”

  There was an uncharacteristic chuckle from Shi-Toh, and he said, “How Karmically comedic. Do you remember the raid we did on Watch Dog? The little township on the bluffs?”

  Mac nodded, again forgetting that he technically couldn’t see her when she was behind him. “Yes.”

  “There was a sheriff there. I forgot his name, but then I never thought I’d want to remember it. He came out all by himself swinging around a piece of scrap metal like he was some lone ranger. Jackmaw liked that. Liked him the same way he liked that boy.”

  “Krav,” Mac insisted.

  “Right. Krav. Well, that poor sheriff. The things we did to him. I remember back then we had a lieutenant that had a thing for men. Threlkeld was his name, I think. We let him have his way with the sheriff, close enough to the town that they could hear him screaming. Once he was plenty violated, we continued to torture him. Remember that?”

  She did remember. After Threlkeld had sodomized him, they all thought the fight had gone out of him. But there was still that glimmer of resistance, and Jackmaw was done trying to convince him to join the clan. They took turns cutting bits of skin off of him until he died of shock, then they tossed his flayed corpse into the middle of the town. Maybe it was a good thing that Krav didn’t come along after all.

  “I remember his poor wife screaming her head off. Wife, or sister, or someone who thought he was important. She came out holding up her dress in her hands and yelling for him to wake up. It’s crazy how stupid some people get when they see a corpse.”

  “It was his wife,” Mac recalled. She remembered the way the woman stained her hands with blood holding the corpse. It looked like a fresh cut of meat, and it was getting its juices all over her pretty dress. The memory of the woman kissing the corpse’s lips used to make her laugh, but it hurt her deeply now.

  “His wife…” Shi-Toh nodded. “That makes sense. Even when a few of the clan tried to pry her away from that thing, she clung to it like it would protect her. The guys really wanted her, you know. They hadn’t had anything to abuse in some months and Jackmaw told them to pick out a couple of souvenirs… Did you know it was me who killed her? Back then I told myself it was because she was getting on my nerves, but I wonder if it was mercy. Could a small bit of humanity have granted her that last charity?”

  Mercy? Charity? They weren’t words Shi-Toh was accustomed to speaking unironically. Mac twisted her face just listening to him. The feathered man sounded like a guilty convict who was trying to rationalize their evil just before the electric chair. There was no sincerity in his words, just pathetic offerings to Karma so that he might spare his own life.

  They approached the camp, and Shi-Toh took a deep breath. From where they were, they would be spotted at any minute. He snatched Mac by the arm and looked her cold in the eyes. “Whatever he asks of you, just don’t forget who brought you back to us. Understand?”

  Mac looked into the onyx glasses, now fully aware of the secret he hid behind them. She saw him for exactly who he was, a frightened little man hiding his truths from the world. If Jackmaw did interrogate her, she would tell him exactly what she thought about his consul. “I understand.”

  “Good… Good. Then here goes nothing.” Shi-Toh took a deep breath and led on into the camp. There were welcoming hails from all around as the clan slowly noticed him. Some of the lieutenants were eyeing him up, and he knew that they were privy to his fate. He swallowed the urge to approach them and beg for them to divulge what they knew. Instead, he held his head high and looked towards the elephant.

  Jackmaw waited atop the beast. He sat upon it like a wild throne, and to Shi-Toh, he looked like a pagan god. The kind worshipped by backwards cultures of days long past. It was just the kind of terrifying presence the warlord had, and it was beaming on Shi-Toh like the oppressive shine of a lighthouse. The feathered man felt small beneath that glare, and smaller still the closer he got to Bantu. He didn’t know if Mac was still behind him, but he didn’t know if that mattered so much anymore. As long as he didn’t have the Krav boy, he was a dead man walking.

  “Greetings, Lord,” he managed to put together without stammering. He stood at the feet of the elephant and looked up at Jackmaw with his hands behind his back. Luckily for him, his legs had managed to stay as rigid as tree trunks. It was his hands that were opening and closing in fits of anxiety. When Jackmaw said nothing for a long time, he continued. “I’ve returned the Macaw to us.”

  “Shi-Toh… We’ve got gear heads from Kiva Noon and a jungle full of drugs that we can damn near smoke right out of the ground. I know you can do a better job of convincing me to spare your sorry little life.”

  Next to Jackmaw up on the elephant was the war sage, Lenny. He wasn’t looking down at Shi-Toh, instead staring off at Mac. There were tears forming in his eyes, and Shi-Toh realized he was refusing to look at him. It boiled the feathered man’s blood to be ignored by a runt like him. He swallowed his venom and focused on Jackmaw.

  “I shot him dead in the desert, Lord. That boy you call your apprentice. He would have never given himself up to the clan. The Macaw can attest to that.”

  Hearing about his brother’s death made Lenny shake the tears from his eyes and climb down the elephant. He couldn’t stand this conversation anymore. Jackmaw watched him go, then he turned his blood red gaze on Mac.

  “What say you, Macaw? You travelled with the boy, would he have made a good apprentice.”

  “No,” Mac said. She smiled to herself. The memory of Krav wasn’t old, but it had been bittersweet to recall. She had the time of her life with him, and yet the thought of him was like sticking a frozen needle through her heart. “He was a force to be reckoned with, but he wouldn’t have liked living in a clan. He’s his own person… was his own person.”

  Jackmaw seemed to consider her words. With a sigh, he fell from the elephant and crashed in front of Shi-Toh. As much as he had been a thorn in the warlord’s side, the feathered man had never been the full target of his ire. It was intense, and it would have killed a lesser man just to be in the presence of. Jackmaw reached down and gripped Shi-Toh’s shoulder so hard, he thought his might dislocate his arm.

  Jackmaw leaned in close, so close Shi-Toh could feel his breath on his ear like he was standing too close to an oven. “I want to give you one last chance. I found the Emerald Expanse.”

  “Lord?” Shi-Toh nearly shouted. Jackmaw gripped his shoulder tighter, and they both heard a pop. The feathered man winced.

  “Shh! One last chance, Shi-Toh! The Tallyman says it’s a bigger haul than we could ever carry. We’ll load up what we can and head to the meet point. You stay with part of the clan and hold the expanse. There will be people to come try and take it from us.”

  “Who?”

  “Does it matter? I had a few mock root sessions with the war sage and he warned me about it. That’s good enough for me. And my word is good enough for you. Now, when I let you go, I want you to go find yourself something to eat and pretend this never happened. I’m going to leave you in charge of some guys, and if they know you broke my heart, they might tear you apart in your sleep.”

  “Y-yes, Lord.” The grip came away from Shi-Toh, and he did as he was told. The two separated, and the clan looked away as if nothing ever happened.

  On the other side of Bantu, Lenny had found a quiet place to wretch. Tears and vomit flowed from him without end, and he knew if Jackmaw saw him like this, the warlord would execute him for being a weakling. But how could he calm himself? That was it, that was the confirmation he needed. Now he was all alone. The only family he had left was the dysfunctional Gordo clan, and the thought of considering them any more than kidnapping psychopaths was like adding insult to injury.

  He had just finished emptying himself of his dinner when he dry heaved with so much ferocity that it took the strength out of him. Lenny choked and gagged as his throat lurched and demanded more bile, more release. Finally, he fell to his knees. He wiped his mouth and rolled to lean on the trunk of a tree.

  There was a visitor coming around Bantu. The girl Shi-Toh had brought back with him. The one Krav had travelled with.

  “Stay back,” he warned weakly. Just talking threatened to force up more vomit he knew he didn’t have. “I’m… I’m really sick.”

  The girl paused a few paces away from him and watched. There was a quiet, lonely look on her face. She also seemed like she wanted to cry. Her lips quivered with unspoken words, then she asked, “Are you Lenny?”

  Something about that question hit him like an arrow to the heart. His chest heaved, and then he was uncontrollably sobbing into his hands, stifling his cries from the rest of the clan. The boy curled in on himself. With any luck, he might be able to disappear and never have to worry about Jackmaw, or the Gordo clan, or Krav ever again.

  The girl was slow with her approach. She was creeping up on him like she was trying to pet a deer without spooking it. When her hand finally met his shoulder, he shook and choked out a sob.

  “He was a really good guy. Well, not a good guy, but a decent one. He turned the valley upside down looking for you. He tore down a raider hive to save me and Rufus. Blew up the Pit to get a map to this place. We were so close…” she started to cry as well, something she thought she couldn’t do anymore. “We almost saved you.”

  “Did he really fight the vulture?” Lenny sniffed and tried to laugh.

  Mac nodded. “He got a good hit on is face before it retreated.”

  “Good,” Lenny laughed, then he sobbed. “I fucking hated that thing.”

  It was unclear to Mac whether she would have stayed with the Gordo clan. This experience, traveling the wasteland with a group of people that actually cared about her, had shown her how much fun it was to be her own person. She could experiment on whatever she wanted, forage whatever she needed. She didn’t have to follow the clan wherever the winds of fate took them, didn’t have to make whatever Jackmaw Yapyap and Shit-Toh demanded. It was eye opening.

  She thought that she would have enjoyed being back, but she saw the Gordo clan for the band of murderers that it was. All it took was them taking her friend from her. Mac stared down at the brother of the boy she would have called her best friend, and she wrapped her arms around him.

  Weakness be damned. If they were going to execute him for showing a little emotion, they might as well kill them both. She dared them to kill the two most valuable members of the clan. As Lenny shook and sobbed in her arms, Mac squeezed tighter and allowed herself to cry with him.

  Krav was a stupid, stupid boy. But he was worth every tear shed by the two.