Dynamis | Chapter 10 - Burden (Patreon)

EDIT: The previous chapter 10 was chapter 11. My mistake. The post has been updated.

Lilibelle took long, measured breaths, drumming her fingers along the handguard of her rifle while the helicopter's blades spun. She was seated in the back corner, taking careful inventory of who was aboard, what their history with the Deadeye group was, and whether or not they were the types to abandon their armed siblings.

Kurtis, Cameron, and Jesiah made up the other three members on board. Two of them were seniors, like Ivy and Warrick. The third, Jesiah, was a freshie who had been assigned to the newest class of recruits. Kurtis and Cameron looked their part; strong builds, stoic expressions, that kind of no-nonsense attitude that made them unpredictable in times of strife.

Those were the types Lilibelle disliked the most.

Kurtis sat in the rightmost seat. He plucked a pack of cigarettes and a metal lighter from one of the front pockets of his combat vest. He tapped one of the death sticks into his hand and lit the end. The lighter clinked shut with the flick of his thumb and he cocked his head back to blow a puff of smoke into the cabin.

“Couldn’t wait until the door was open?” Lilibelle said, waving her hand in front of her face.

“Forgot we had a lady on board,” Kurtis said, not looking at her. Tapping some ash off the end, he took a long drag off the filter, then rolled a small window down and blew the smoke out of the helicopter. “My apologies.”

She hated him already.

“Careful. You tick her off too much and she might bite that hand off,” Cameron chuckled in the seat directly across from Lilibelle. “She seems the feisty type.”

Lilibelle glared at Cameron. Her fingers settled around the neck of her gun, gripping it tightly. The leather of her glove squeaked with her effort. “We’re here to save my partner, not to make merriment. So unless you have something useful to say, shut the fuck up.”

Kurtis whistled. “You might be right, Cameron.” He held his hands up. “Don’t mind me, princess. I’m just here to do a job, same as you,” he said, the cigarette bouncing with his lips.

Jesiah writhed in the seat across from Kurtis. His gaze kept darting between Kurtis and Lilibelle, so Lilibelle shot a sideways glance at Kurtis. He caught her glance, so she stared, and he stared right back. His jaw rocked side to side, a crisp cracking sound releasing from between the bones.

Kurtis grunted, then hunched over, the cigarette pinched between his forefinger and thumb.

“S-So, they don’t make them like that anymore,” Jesiah stammered, gesturing toward something with his head.

“Hah?” Lilibelle frowned.

“That gun. Your gun.”

Lilibelle looked at the gun, then back at Jesiah. “No. They don’t.”

“It’s an SE-48, right? The Dragon model.”

Lilibelle nodded. “Yes. I’ve had this baby since I was a child.” She reminisced on the days her father took her shooting, setting up practice targets for the day she would inevitably be forced to fight for her life. She and this gun were inseparable.

Kurtis sputtered. “Since you were a child? Don’t go telling fables, lady.”

“It’s true,” she enunciated. “I fired this weapon three times a week when I was a little girl. My father taught me. This girl’s as much a part of me as the rest of my body.”

Cameron unholstered the pistol around his leg and held it up, barrel pointed to the ceiling. “You should claim one of these instead. Newest model of SEm. Many of the same features as the 48, but much more compact. Here.” He turned it around and extended the butt of the gun for Lilibelle to observe. “Feel the weight.” Lilibelle stared at it for a few seconds, then shook her head. “Suit yourself. But you’re missing out.” He tucked the weapon back into its holster.

“Why?” Jesiah asked.

“The SE-48 is outdated,” Kurtis explained, blowing more smoke out of the cabin. “Red Rocket’s developed four new models since then, all of them with significantly improved firepower” He waved his hand dismissively and puffed on the cigarette. “The SE-48 isn’t worth it.”

Lilibelle clenched her jaw. “You’re wrong.”

“Is that so?” He flicked his death stick out of the helicopter. “You seem pretty attached to that thing. Care to prove me wrong?”

Oh, would I. “When we get back, set up the firing range. Pick any SE model you like.” She returned to drumming her fingers along the gun’s neck. “I’ll show you what the 48 can do.”

“Put your money where your mouth is, toots. Bet on it.”

Lilibelle sneered. “One thousand credits.” Kurtis started. “What’s wrong? Too much for you? We can take it down to five hundred if that makes you more comfortable.”

Cameron snorted.

“One thousand’s fine,” Kurtis said.

“Shake on it.” Lilibelle extended her hand. Kurtis stared at it for a moment, met her stare, then shook it with his meaty hand. Lilibelle returned an equally firm grip. “Don’t go crying to your friends when we’re done.”

“Watch what you say with that prissy mouth of yours,” he said, letting go. “You’re liable to get more than you bargained for.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Hey, knock it off. Both of you.” Cameron glared at Lilibelle. “Don’t forget that you’re here because we allowed it. We were perfectly fine going about this without you.” Lilibelle clicked her tongue. “We’re here on a rescue mission, so let’s not forget that,” Cameron said as he leaned forward. “We don’t need any infighting to drive us apart. The Fiends do that well enough on their own.”

Lilibelle inhaled deeply. Cameron was right. All that mattered right now was getting Karl and his seniors out of harm’s way. Their competition meant nothing when compared to the Fiends. She could worry about the aftermath later.

“Fiends sighted,” Saren—the pilot—said. He clicked a few switches above him, and Lilibelle leaned forward against the seat’s buckles. “Dropping altitude and investigating.”

The cabin shook with the sharp descent. A flash of lightning. Thunder roared in the distance and Lilibelle gasped as Zhutanach came into view. Hundreds of burnt bodies, human and Fiend alike, littered the ground in specks. Soot and ash rose into the sky, the ground a mix of black and brown and red. Lilibelle had no words. She simply stared.

“Mission target located,” the pilot said.

Lilibelle’s attention snapped to Saren. “Take us down!”

“Lowering altitude. Estimated distance to target: three hundred meters.”

Lilibelle took the gun into her hands, undid the safety, and clicked on the automatic function. A digital display lit up on the side indicating her ammo count. It read at a full ninety rounds. Not nearly enough for the swarm of Fiends she saw below. She threw open the case beside her for the belt of ammunition she requested and snaked the end through the lid. Snapping the case shut, she loaded the belt into the chamber on the side of her gun, then clicked a switch at the top to secure the ammunition. The count now read four hundred.

“Stabilizing cabin,” Saren said. Lilibelle undid the buckles to her seat and held onto one of the many thick black bars above her. Kurtis, Cameron, and Jesiah undid their buckles next, and Kurtis stood beside Lilibelle. He withdrew a pair of handguns, energy-based from the looks of it, and spun them for effect.

“You’re so cool,” she mocked.

Kurtis smirked. “If any of us are going to go out, we should do it in style.”

“I’ll remember that when I walk over your corpse.”

Cameron shook his head.

“Fifty meters away,” the pilot said.

The helicopter came to a steady descent, and Lilibelle threw open the door on her side. Cameron and Jesiah slid open the door on the opposite side. Fiends crawled up the hill toward three people wearing neurosuits. One of them looked to be injured, and a man with a familiar head of blond hair was standing between him and the Fiends that threatened them.

Karl. Karl glanced over his shoulder at her, the whites of his eyes clear, even in the dead of night like this. Another person—a woman—fired a few shots out of her own gun, shouted at him as she holstered her weapon and started dragging the injured man toward the helicopter. A grunt-class Fiend with hook-like arms leaped toward Karl, and Lilibelle fired a few rounds into the creature’s head.

All Lilibelle could hear was gunfire. She wasted no words on these creatures. The Fiends swarmed the hill like locusts, hissing and screeching and clawing their way toward their meals. Lilibelle fired with pinpoint precision, using controlled bursts and leveling each Fiend that crested the hill. Body parts were strewn about by her shots, setting ablaze anything that wasn’t instantly blown up.

Karl cried over the din, firing into the collection of Fiends while he helped the woman lift the injured man toward the helicopter. The Fiends were gaining on them, and Lilibelle fought back the urge to glance at Karl to ensure he was all right. There was no time for that, she needed to keep her head in the fight. A single lapse in judgment, a single misplaced shot, and Karl was dead.

A Fiend hissed and clicked its hungry mandibles at her, trying to invade the helicopter’s cabin. She squealed and reeled back, when two green flashes of light bathed the zone. Ooze spattered against her forearms and jacket, drenching half of her face. She glanced at Kurtis, who winked before firing three more shots in the opposite direction. Behind her, Cameron and Jesiah were dealing with their own Fiends, never once looking over their shoulders.

Lilibelle resumed her position and continued shooting. Karl and the others were close now. It was clear from the looks on their faces and the veils of sweat they wore that they were ragged and well beyond their limits. Even so, they pushed, and Karl continued to support their escape with a few well-placed shots of his own.

Karl and the unknown woman lifted the man—whom Lilibelle now recognized as Sean—into the helicopter between her and Kurtis. Lilibelle didn’t pay Sean little more than a glance, but she caught enough of him within her peripheral vision to know that he was in bad shape.

“They’re on board!” Lilibelle screamed. “Get us out of here!”

Kurtis knocked on the glass. “You heard her! Get us the hell out!”

The rotor blades spun faster and the helicopter began to ascend. Lilibelle and Kurtis continued to gun down approaching Fiends, their numbers growing increasingly concerning with every second that passed. Each time she shot one, two more showed up in its place. Droplets of sweat fell off the front of her brow. Her concentration waned, her muscles warred against her, adrenaline pounded in her ears. She didn’t stop firing until they were nearly fifty meters off the ground.

Lilibelle panted, watching the Fiends become smaller and smaller as they ascended. They screeched and hopped, but at this height, there was no way for them to reach them. Lilibelle’s lips were so dry, so parched of the water she desperately craved. Her hands shook. Her whole body shook while Kurtis and Cameron shut the doors to the helicopter.

“Hey.” Kurtis holstered one of his guns to put a hand on her shoulder. “You all right?”

She slapped it away. “I’m fine.”

“Well, fuck a guy for trying.”

“He needs help,” Karl said. Lilibelle brought her attention to Sean. He was pale, his eyes half-open, his lips barely moving.

“Make a hole.” Cameron put away his gun and gestured with his arms for the others to make space. Karl and the small woman stepped away from Sean, and Cameron pressed his ear to Sean’s chest. “He’s still breathing. Bring me the kit.”

Lilibelle undid the latch that held the medical kit to the floor under the seats, then slid it across the scalelike floor. Cameron stopped it with his knee, balancing it precariously between his legs, and threw the top open.

“Are you all right?” Lilibelle asked Karl.

Karl nodded, though he didn’t look at her. He was too busy staring at Sean. The gun was shaking in his hand. She wanted to ask him how this had happened, who the girl was. But instead, all she could do was stare. After the helicopter gained some altitude, she steeled herself and looked at Sean more closely.

Sean had closed his eyes. Pink flesh poked through the neurosuit where he had been slashed. Fresh blood poured out of the wound, dripping onto the floor. Cameron sifted through the supplies and procured a scalpel inside. He drew the scalpel down Sean’s arm, tearing a hole through the suit and exposing his ghastly-pale arm.

Cameron grimaced, then returned to his work.

The woman took a seat, lifting one leg over the other. She was a scrawny thing, and wore a neurosuit just like the ones Karl and Sean were wearing.

“Who are you?” Lilibelle asked.

One of her eyes—her left one—moved independently, causing Lilibelle to hiss through her nose. “My name is Kalki.”

Lilibelle waited for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, Lilibelle asked, “What were you doing here?”

“Classified.” She leaned back and crossed her arms without turning to look at her. Though the eye continued to watch her.

“She works for Stinger,” Karl said.

“Bad boy.” Kalki hummed her discontent and shook her head.

“Oh, shut up. Stop calling me that,” Karl said, glaring at her. Large dark circles hung under his eyes, and the tips of his blond hair were riddled with sweatdrops. “She’s been with us the whole time. I don’t think Stinger’s coming back for her.”

“Check her for any weapons,” Cameron said.

Kurtis moved to stand beside Lilibelle, veering his head to one side to observe the sidearm attached to her thigh. “All right”—he wagged the first two fingers of his free hand—“fork it over.” She withdrew the gun, spun it around, and gave it to him. After a cursory look, Kurtis tucked it into the back of his pants.

“What’s a Stinger op doing here?” Jesiah asked.

Kurtis shrugged. “Beats me. Want to answer the kid’s question?” Kalki kept her mouth shut, staring at Sean. “No? All right, sweetheart, here’s how it’s going to go, then. Right now, you’ve got two options. You can be smart about this and tell us why you’re here, or we can open up the doors and let the Fiends have you. Your choice.”

“You would not do that,” Kalki said. Still, she refused to look at them.

“He would,” Cameron said. He’d finished injecting Sean with a syringe and was working to wrap the wound with gauze. “He’s killed for less.”

Kalki looked up. The green eye, which Lilibelle noticed was mechanical, finally stopped staring, and now both eyes were on Kurtis. “We were here researching an anomaly, when said anomaly destroyed my DF. That is all.”

“What kind of anomaly?” Kurtis said.

“I cannot answer that.”

“Then I guess—”

“You will have to feed me to the Fiends.”

Kurtis moved to open the doors. “Fine by me.”

“Hold on.” Lilibelle took a step closer, trying to gauge the woman’s intentions. “Let’s hand her over to the admiral. Let him decide what to do with her.”

Kurtis kept his hand on the door but didn’t move.

“You would dare risk the ire of Stinger?” Kalki asked.

Lilibelle smiled smugly. “The ire of Stinger? For all they know, you’re dead.”