Deadman - Book 3 Chapter 2: Batty

I took a different path from the one I took initially to avoid being detected by the Remnants. Graves had dropped me by Shrike where they’d initially found the Pilgrim, and it seemed likely they may still be sending the occasional patrol that way. I still might meet them there later, but not until I gave Pott’s all the information I had and hedged as many bets as possible.

I took a breath and looked around the vast sea of orange sand around me. It felt good to be back in familiar territory. The warm radiation of the deadzone that Pott’s resided in had a different feel to it then the intense heat of the Cut or the peaks and valleys of rads I’d experienced in Eden. The land itself was also familiar to me, with my legs automatically taking me across familiar paths without conscious effort.

After another nearly full day of travel, the domes of Pott’s came into view. It was night, and the sky of the city was cloudy. I couldn’t make out the myriad colors of the domes, but the shadowy shape of them in the distance was a relief to me. A part of me had believed that they may not be there anymore, even after hearing Deux’s voice on the radio earlier that day.

I saw a flash of red light, and stopped moving. There was another shortly after. I started

running, drawing my rifle as I moved. I closed the distance quickly, my newfound speed and strength, along with my knowledge of the terrain allowing me to practically fly in that direction. I realized as I moved that the majority of red flashes were being fired into the air, at a patch of undulating dark clouds. Closing in, I realized that they weren’t clouds, but a group of large flying creatures.

As I closed in, one of the creatures took notice of me and dove, allowing me to take a closer look. It plummeted toward me on leathery wings, its body sleek and hairless, covered in what looked to be rotting sections of flesh. Its teeth were long and ferocious, and its eyes black. It was roughly the size of a large dog, maybe eighty pounds. Rather than waste ammo, since it was kind enough to close the distance between us for me, I reached out my left hand, caught it by the face, and smashed it into the ground next to me.

That drew the attention of the others, and a half dozen of the monsters dove in my direction, screeching at such a high pitch that I found myself momentarily deafened. I let off a half dozen shots, dropping three of them before they reached me, then I rolled under the dive of the remaining three that swiftly returned to the swarm above.

I watched as lances of red light sliced through the radbats above me, dropping them by the handful with what I recognized as fire from Cerberus las-guns. I looked over to the nearest buildings, and saw on the roofs of the nearest houses were deadmen and women, crouched and firing on any of the creatures foolish enough to swoop down on them, and firing into the swarm when they had an opening to do so.

The bats began massing again, and I raised my rifle. Firing while I made my way closer to the edge of Pott’s. My hearing began to return enough that I started to hear what sounded like a mechanical whirring, and I looked to see a suit of power armor approaching me. At first I panicked, thinking that somehow it was a Remnant, then I realized it was painted entirely black, and wielding what looked to be four Cerberus las-guns at the tip of a massive pole wired to an equally massive pack on the armor’s back. The armored figure raised the pole, aiming it at the bats and unleashed a salvo of las-fire that literally cut the swarm in half, causing a rain of bat corpses down onto the ground. The figure raised the pole again to let out another volley, but then fell to its knees.

The radbats, sensing weakness, dove on him. Normally the creatures I encountered in the wastes had some kind of survival instinct. Most would’ve fled already from the massive losses inflicted on them, but these bats didn’t seem to have the same rationality. Eight of them landed on the figure and started to tear and claw at the armor, causing the sound of claws on metal to overtake the sound of their screeching.

I moved toward the figure, holstering my rifle, and started to tear the bats off of the armor. Snapping their necks, tearing off wings, and stomping on spines until I had them cleared off. They kept coming, most of them seeming to believe that we were vulnerable, but I kept at it, killing and tearing them apart until there was a circle of their dead surrounding us.

As I continued my brutal work, the deadmen firing their lasguns continued to attack the ones in the sky. As before, even though they’d suffered intense losses, they just kept coming.

By the time I snapped the last one’s neck, I’d been killing them constantly for maybe a half hour. I could smell blood and singed flesh all around me. I bent down, grabbed one of the bat corpses, and took a bite. It was good. Heavily irradiated meat, freshly killed, one of my favorite ways to have it. As I chewed the power armored figure held out a hand and I hauled them up with my free hand, hearing the servos groan as they did so.

The figure did a couple of light squats, and adjusted the staff-weapon, slotting it into a sheath on their back. Then they opened the power armor, it was Nix, current leader of the Undertakers. I’d last spoken to her when I was investigating a murder in Pott’s. She looked much the same, wearing the black hood of her office even under the helmet of the power armor.

“Thank you. Looks like Julian’s prototype has a few kinks to work out still,” she said, knocking the power pack on her back gently with her knuckles. She looked at me squinting. “Who do I have to thank for the assist?”

I frowned, then remembered that most of my head and face had been covered in black cloth. I slid it off my face and wiped the bat blood from my mouth.

Her eyes widened. “Donovan?”

I gave her a nod. “Nix.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, the deadmen that had been covering us with lasguns made it over to us, one of them even doing as I had and biting into one of the bats he picked up from the ground.

“We should take some of these over the Last Meal to see if their cook can do anything fun with it,” he said through his mouthful.

“Most of this should probably be taken over to feed the bloodmanes,” responded a deadwoman next to him. “Cal told me their feed was getting a little low the other day.”

“Whose this?” She asked, turning to Nix.

She shifted her weight to look at her, which seemed difficult in the clearly underpowered armor. “It’s Donovan.”

The other deadmen all stopped what they were doing and turned to look at me.

I stood there for a few moments, confused by their stares, but not uncomfortable with them. I was used to stares. “Is there a problem?” I asked.

Nix stepped up. “Char, Pers, start gathering up some of these bodies. Whether for bloodmanes, fertilizer, or us it’s not a good idea to let them go to waste. Mac, go give the white robes at the Mausoleum a report on what happened, run ahead of us and tell them that Donovan is here.” She turned to me as the other deadmen went scurrying away. “Donovan, come with me… Bear with while I lug this thing around. Hopefully the power will kick back in soon.”

I moved next to her and put my arm around the suit to help her move more quickly, and we started walking. I didn’t really do it with a mind to help her, I just hated walking at a slow pace.

“Thank you,” she said as we began to move.

I grunted in response, and we began to make a good pace as we watched the deadman she sent ahead of us, run toward the edge of the domes. Pott’s looked different. The informal defense nests I’d seen at the top of the domes before were now built out, and manned. It was still a rather light defense, but the fact that they’d done it meant changes were coming.

“You wondering why they reacted that way?” asked Nix as we moved.

“That too,” I answered.

“People have been talking a lot about you since you’ve been gone. Started with some of mine who talked about the time you traveled with them to Tilly. Then other undertakers who go between STAR and Pott’s started bringing home more rumors… then a few of the non-undertaker deadmen that travel started hearing about you too, not to mention the deadmen slaves who arrived and talked about you saving them. The talk about you has only grown since you left for the Cut. Can’t imagine it’ll slow down now that you’re back.”

I listened in silence, continuing to help her lumber forward. I couldn’t imagine they’d slow down either. It’s not like I had any intention of slowing down.