Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [78]
As for the latter, I’ve speculated that other realities might exist, but it’s never been proven. Until now, maybe. Of course, delivering that evidence depends on us getting home. Maybe people passed over before; they just never found their way back.
March. Shit. If I don’t return, he’ll think I left him for good and with no explanations, no good-byes. Surely he’ll know I’d never do that of my own free will—just disappear on him. Urgency possesses me, and I quicken my step, bounding over spiky-leafed plants. Vines writhe on the ground, snapping at my ankles, likely attached to some sentient flora.
Running doesn’t solve anything, though. It just makes me tired, and when I finally have no more breath, and stop, panting, we’re still in the middle of this Mary-forsaken jungle. So far, nothing has attacked us, but I sense things stirring in the undergrowth, circling us to determine our weaknesses. Fear percolating anew, I spin to face Vel. He’s already got his twin blades in hand, so I guess he feels it, too.
“Back to back, Sirantha. We are about to meet our first natives.”
Without speaking, I ready my weapon and fall in behind him. I’d feel better if I had the live hum for insurance; as it is, we must win this fight on skill and strength. Monsters burst out of the bushes from all sides. I have only seconds to take in an impression of green mottled fur, razor-sharp talons, and long, yellow teeth. There are holes where their ears ought to be, and their eyes are oddly placed. They’re also convinced we’re their next meal.
Not today.
Four of them, which means taking two at once. My time in prison has left me stronger than ever, even more than when I graduated as a combat jumper, and I haven’t forgotten any of my training. In a way, it feels good to have an enemy I can fight instead of the tide of public opinion or a jury’s good graces. When the first one lunges at me, I crack it soundly across the skull with my shockstick, a two- handed swing. If I had any juice, the thing would be twitching on the ground, its nervous system blown to hell. Instead, the beast reels back with a high-pitched sound.
Dark fluid trickles from its maw, brown-black, much darker than human blood. The viscosity is different too, stickier, more like tree sap. Could these creatures be evolved from the native flora? Shit, that’s not fur. It’s . . . moss. I don’t have time to ponder as it communicates with its hunting partner, and they both dive at me at once. I counter with another hard swing and a snap kick aimed at the vulnerable throat.
In response to the strike, tentacles flares from the creature’s throat and twine around my ankle. I slam to the ground because, despite their slenderness, these tendril- vine things possess a terrible, tensile strength. I wish I had blades like Vel’s, but I don’t, so I roll, trying to twist them. If these things can move, then they have nerve endings, and I can hurt them.
Vel vaults me, twin blades gleaming, and slices the cords binding me. His monsters follow in unnatural bounds. They don’t move like anything I’ve ever seen; they have too many legs, for one thing, and they leap, not run.
Now free, I flip to my feet. I have some sense now of what these creatures are trying to do. Once they get us bound and helpless on the ground, they will devour us while we’re still alive. Like the Morgut, they prefer fresh prey; maybe they savor a screaming-terror taste in their meat.
They time another leap, and this time, the lead plant- thing succeeds in biting me. It hurts like a bitch, and the teeth lock on like certain carnivorous fish,