Chapter 16 - Trigger-Man

  Whump

  Cole opened his eyes, immediately alert and reaching for his gun. The distant clap of an explosion touched hard-wired nerves in his brain that took him back to the Middle East before he remembered he was in a much worse place. He pulled his poncho liner off and rolled over. It was still dark, and Roxy was already gone. He looked around the small camp and spotted her on the edge of the rise, looking out over the eastern forest.

  Whump

  A flash lit up an area of trees in the distance, the single spot of light in the entire dark forest. Another followed close behind, and the sounds of both impacts reached them seconds later.

  “Sounds like IDF,” said Cole, strapping on his armor.

  Howie looked back at him. “I think it’s Morganstern fighting something.”

  Cole pursed his lips. “Makes sense.”

  A spray of sparks jetted up through the canopy, followed by two more explosions.

  “Whatever it is, it’s putting up a hell of a fight,” said Roxy. “I hope she’s ok.”

  The forest went quiet.

  “Do you think she won?” asked Howie.

  Cole considered. “We’re screwed if she didn’t. Moreover, she’s screwed. But unless this is part of the tryout, there’s no way it’s normal. If she’s alive, she’ll be looking for us.”

  “And if she’s not, whatever just beat her into the dirt will be,” said Howie. “The big question is, how do we find out which is the case without serving ourselves up on a platter?”

  Roxy knuckled his arm. “Don’t talk like that. Morganstern is fine, she’ll be fine. I hope. Shit. What if she needs our help?”

  Cole lowered himself down to a squat and pulled out his cheap Syrian vape to calm his nerves. With all three of them, plus Ken and Han if they could link up, they might be able to… all die together, most likely. Howie was right. They’d be serving themselves up on a platter if they were wrong.

  “I’ve got it,” said Howie. “We bluff them out.” He went to his pack and pulled out his flare gun before coming back to the ridge. There was just enough moonlight peeking through the rainclouds for him to point out an opening in the canopy maybe four hundred meters away. “We pop a flare there, then Roxy and I circle south to where we saw the fight. Cole, you stay here. Either Morganstern comes to check out the flare, or whoever she just fought will. If it’s Morgan, you can make contact. If not? You observe and report when we link back up.”

  Cole nodded to himself. “It’s a good plan. You two won’t be in much danger if whoever it was comes looking for me. I know how to stay hidden, and my ability is off cooldown, now.”

  “And if Morganstern is still over there, she might need medical treatment, which I can do,” said Roxy. “Alright…” she scanned the northern forest, finally pointing to a cluster of white boulders visible through a scraggly patch of canopy. “There’s our rendezvous. Sorry you got shorted on sleep, Howie, you going to be ok?”

  Howie grinned. “Perks of the survivalist. Don’t need as much sleep, now. Let’s pack out quick and get moving. It could be almost dawn before we get over there.”

  Cole helped the others stow what gear was still out, tearing down his makeshift tent that had at least provided a couple of hours shut-eye. He kept his poncho out, spreading the camo cloth over his position as he lay down next to some underbrush along the ridge and settled in with his rifle. A few minutes later, a red flare burst to life over the distant clearing. Cole upped the magnification on Jefferson’s rifle and caught sight of a pair of dark, camouflaged shapes heading south. Looking through the scope, his enhanced acuity was more than enough to see in the pre-dawn light.

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  After tracking Howie and Roxy’s progress for a few minutes, he swung his barrel back toward the illuminated clearing where the fallen flare still burned with harsh vermilion light. He didn’t have Roxy’s relentless, wishful optimism, but man, it would be nice if Morganstern strolled into that clearing with her big hammer over her shoulder, wondering who the fuck had just wasted her time and getting pissed all the while. He didn’t look forward to explaining things to her.

  It looked like he wouldn’t have to, as two figures entered his field of vision, and neither was the NODs-wearing, hammer-wielding warrior woman proctoring the Kicker tryout. One was an armored giant, encased in black lacquered armor nearly from head to toe, except for tanned arms that were thick with corded muscle. He had a reed cloak, and his helmet was carved in the shape of a ram, complete with curved horns. He carried a broad shield with a painted coat of arms that was impossible to make out in the low light. But Cole could see the dents deforming its surface, as well as those that had crushed parts of his armor. His other hand hefted a large, pole axe—something that looked like it could cut cleanly through a human neck without slowing down.

  The other figure looked much smaller by comparison, and not only because they weren’t armored. The light-colored robes and peaked red and white mask with tribal patterns gave the impression of someone tall and slender, who looked short only by virtue of their proximity to the armored freak of nature next to them. The masked one examined the clearing, starting with the smoldering flare and then pacing in a slow circle. He gestured with his hands as he walked, as though plucking something out of the air. A wane light began to coat the robe-wearer’s slender hands. He thrust them apart, and a ripple of white light spread through the forest for a hundred meters or so in every direction. Luckily, Roxy and Howie had moved out as soon as they’d fired off the flare, taking the scenic route to the site of Morganstern’s battle.

  How many levels would these two be worth?

  The thought came unbidden to his brain, as though whispered by someone watching over his shoulder. The armored dude at least looked like he could take on a few heart-eater demons before breakfast. The spellcaster? He had to be high-level if someone had sent him here, right? Must be pretty tough. As tough as a .308 slasher round, though? Cole flicked his safety off and lined up his four-hundred-meter aim point. His finger hesitated on the trigger. The plan had been to observe and stay hidden. If these guys could take on a high-level Kicker, what were the odds he stood a chance? That armor on the giant could be as hard as tank armor, for all he knew. And the mage might look like a soft target, but they could have some sort of force-field spell active.

  He continued watching, hoping to gain some more insight into their capabilities. The armored giant started walking the perimeter and shouting something at his partner. He poked at the grass with his weapon. Even with his sharpened ears, from 400 meters away, he couldn’t make out any of the voices. But the mage perked up and joined the giant, looking down at something on the edge of the clearing. The mage wiggled their fingers again, and another white light coalesced and snaked out of the clearing, following the same route Roxy and Howie had taken.

  Shit. They’d picked up the trail and had some Lewis Field magic bullshit way of tracking them.

  Nothing for it, now. Cole lined up his shot. His acuity hadn’t just boosted his hearing and vision. The analyzer said that it boosted his other sensory systems, too. The subtle breeze on his hands now felt like it was telling him its exact speed and direction so that he could adjust for windage. The mage seemed to almost move in slow motion as subtle telegraphs and muscle twitches gave way to his actions a moment before he made them.

  Please don’t have a bullshit force-shield, please don’t have a bullshit force-shield.

  Cole squeezed the trigger, sending his greetings from his hiding spot hundreds of meters away. A hole and an explosion of blood appeared on the red and white mask. Cole fired again, but the armored giant was already moving, blocking the robed mage from view with his perfectly angled shield. The next several shots impacted the slab of metal and did little more than chip the paint off the coat of arms.

  The cold rush of leveling up washed over Cole, taking his breath away like he’d just plunged himself into an ice bath. It was so intense that he struggled to suck in a breath until it passed. Whether dead or not, he’d gotten enough experience from hitting the mage to push himself beyond the threshold to the next level. Whatever material that spooky mask had been made of, it hadn’t been tougher than 7.62 NATO.

  The armored warrior disappeared from the clearing, and a line of disturbed foliage and snapping branches traced a path straight towards his own rise at a disturbing clip.

  “Oh shit!” said Cole. He pushed himself up, grabbed his rifle, and sprinted in the opposite direction as fast as his legs would carry him.