Chapter 20 – Medical Extraction

  “Last thing from my pile,” said Besson, hefting up a stubby, thick-barreled otherworld firearm with a manual breech-action. “Grenade launcher, I think. Looks like 40 millimeter. You want?”

  “I’ll save it for Howie,” said Cole. “He can make magic ordnance.”

  Besson pushed off his log. “Ah, he got a Bombard class. Howie is pretty loud and unsubtle, so that suits him.” Besson lifted himself from the dead log. “Come on, Silk Forest is just a few miles north of us. That’s where he and Roxy are supposed to be, right?”

  Cole stood up and checked that both his weapons were loaded—his rifle with the new otherworld rounds from the ogre and his service pistol with the slide and a magazine Besson had pulled from one of the zombies Cole killed. “Silk Forest? Didn’t know it was called that. Looked like a bunch of boulders, to me.”

  He glanced at his compass and headed northeast. Besson fell into pace, not quite as distant as before they’d fought together and shared loot. Nothing like zombies and fungal ogres to build squad cohesion.

  “Ah. Well, once we get there, you’ll probably wish they were.”

  Cole eyed Besson. “You seem to know an awful lot about Curahee. Where’d you get all this intel?”

  Maybe not smart to push the self-isolating 31K trooper, but Besson just shrugged. “When you don’t talk a lot, other people fill the silence. Tell you things they otherwise wouldn’t. Especially when you’ve got a dog they want to keep petting. I put a lot together from vague hints and references.”

  “You gotta take every advantage you can get,” said Cole. “Sounds like you were looking to get ahead. Smart. Wish I’d had more time to do the same.”

  “I just wanted to survive on my own when we got here. Me and Nutmeg don’t really do other people.” He admitted, looking away. “That’s how we’ve always liked it, and it’s how we’re going to operate in Otherworlds.”

  “Alone?” asked Cole.

  Besson nodded.

  Cole hummed to himself, considering the idea of jumping through that portal solo, no backup but a dog at your feet. Granted, this was a super strong/smart/fast/cute dog. But he’d take a four-man fireteam any day.

  “What else you hear about Curahee? Anything of tactical value?”

  “Not really. There is one thing that the Kickers say, but I can’t verify.”

  “What’s that?” asked Cole.

  “That this was Director Bricker’s world. That he’s responsible for…” Besson gestured to the fungal growths on a tree. “He succeeded in defeating the ultimate evil here, and the God of Curahee sent him home as a reward. But this place was already too far gone, and by the time he found it again with DOR, there was almost nothing left but monsters and mutants.”

  “This place does seem like its best days are behind it,” said Cole. “Hold up, I think I see one of those white boulders. Let me take the lead and I’ll see if I can find the others.”

  “I’ll maintain two hundred meters,” said Besson, melting back into the woods with Nutmeg. “I’ll cover you when you get into trouble.”

  When.

  Cole moved up. Besson was a solid woodsman, but not near as good as Cole. He could still hear the man trekking through the trees a couple hundred meters behind him and Nutmeg snuffling somewhere on his right flank. With the rising terrain, he could see more of the forest behind them—including, for the first time, the ridge they’d rappelled down the day before, seeming so far away, now. They were over halfway to the mountain. Even if they weren’t being pursued by some invader from a different otherworld, things were starting to get more dangerous.

  Through the woods ahead, Cole started to realize that what he’d thought were boulders were actually another part of the canopy. But they were strung with massive tree-spanning webs. Silk forest suddenly made a lot more sense. Cole had zero desire to meet the creature that had spun them. As he skirted the perimeter, he caught sight of the occasional fungal zombie trapped in webs and struggling to get free. A few times, his enhanced acuity let him hear skittering and disturbed foliage in the trees above. He shuddered.

  How many tryouts had washed out upon encountering arachnophobia central? Cole had seen hard soldiers freak out at the sight of spiders on more than one occasion. And not just massive camel spiders, either. Itty-bitty jumping spiders or weavers hanging out in corner webs were more than enough to raise goose flesh.

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  The Silk Forest extended east for several miles and was too deep for Cole to see through to the other side. What he’d thought was a tiny field of tall stones was turning out to be a major feature of the approach to the mountain, and he was starting to wonder if they’d be able to avoid it after all without a significant detour.

  The sound of something moving through the underbrush ahead of him stopped Cole in his tracks. He quickly dropped behind a fallen log and angled his rifle through the gap, eyes on the woods ahead of him. A few minutes later, he caught sight of Roxy’s Viking shield with its blue-veined pattern. When he caught sight of her face, he was half convinced she’d started to turn into one of those wood-men ogres, having grown a second head. But a moment later, he recognized Morganstern being carried on her back.

  Howie walked next to her, new gun in hand. He’d swapped out his plate carrier for a segmented breastplate of what looked like wood, and he’d found himself an otherworld firearm, as well: a short PDW with a bark pattern. Probably the same petrification affix as Cole’s spear. His M16 Grenadier was nowhere to be seen.

  Cole waited until they were closer to signal, using the same whistled notes as before. Both stopped walking and knelt down while looking for the source of the sound.

  “Friendlies!” called Howie, whispering this time. Cole pushed up from his position and joined them. Both Roxy and Howie sighed with relief.

  “Heard a lot of gunfire after we launched that flare. What happened?”

  Cole shrugged. “Had a shot, took a shot. Got one of them. The other chased me. Besson bailed me out.”

  “You found Besson?” asked Howie.

  “He found me.” Cole glanced back the way he’d come, where Besson would be watching from deeper in the woods. Probably too many people for him, now. “You should see his dog, she’s ginormous.”

  Roxy crouched down and Howie eased Morganstern down and leaned her against a tree. Cole had thought she was unconscious, but it looked like the Kicker was at least slightly awake—though very delirious. Her eyes were unfocused, and her breathing was labored. Her clothing had been soaked with blood, and she had a splint on her left arm. Roxy put her hands on Morganstern and Cole felt the subtle pop of an ability being used.

  “She’s been cursed or something,” said Roxy. “Some sort of withering spell that’s sapping her Strength and Resilience. I’m using my second Malleable Mender charge on her whenever it’s up, but it’s barely enough to fight the effects. She needs a high-level healer.”

  Cole crouched down and lifted one of Morganstern’s eyelids, looking at the grey clouding in the whites that felt distinctly unnatural. “At least she’s alive. We keep going. Get to the top of the mountain and jump home first chance we get.”

  Roxy looked at him, eyes dark. “You said you shot at the guys she fought. Any luck?”

  Cole nodded. “Howie’s plan worked a charm. Got a clean shot on the mage that probably did this,” he said, gesturing to Morganstern. “Right in the head with 7.62 NATO. Leveled up twice from it, which I think means he’s dead.”

  “Good,” spat Roxy.

  “But there’s another one; big, armored bastard with a giant axe. And he’s the one to worry about. Runs faster than I do, and he’s got some sort of dimension-warping ability. Besson and I put some serious volume of fire onto him, but I think he would have kept coming if he’d known it was just the two of us. Probably knows where we’re headed, too.”

  Howie kicked a tree nearby, then pulled off an ear of fungus and started to chew on it. “I figured the same thing.”

  “Well, we found Ken and Han and filled them in,” said Roxy. “That means the only one unaccounted for is that spooky bitch, Nona.” Roxy sighed and looked to her right at the field of gossamer webs blanketing the floor and the canopy. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen a way around?”

  “Was hoping you had," said Cole.

  Howie huffed a bitter laugh and jerked his thumb behind him. “Fat chance. It goes on for miles that way. Shit.” He looked at the webs. “I had a pet tarantula when I was a kid, but this...”

  “You do seem like the type,” Roxy pointed out. Cole couldn’t help agreeing.

  Howie paused for a moment, considering. “Yeah, that’s fair. Still, I ain’t looking forward to seeing the LF equivalent of one. But I guess we got no choice.”

  “Well, maybe this will help discourage them,” said Cole, reaching into his bag to pull out the grenade launcher. He handed it over to Howie, who lit up like a kid on Christmas.

  “Oh, sweet! My M16 got trashed, so I needed a new grenade launcher.” He worked the bolt on the single-shot launcher before pulling out his analyzer to check its stats.

  “Hold up, before you do that…” said Cole he fished in his pack for the extra bolt he’d taken from the otherworld carbine Besson had let him break down. He put his hand on the grenade launcher and used Tinker on it. The bolt melted into the gun, replacing the one that previously cycled the action with an orange-striped one.

  Howie checked the analyzer again and then looked at Cole. “How’d you do that?”

  “Secondary class,” said Cole. “I can break down otherworld firearms and fuse parts to enhance other pieces.”

  “That’s incredible!” said Roxy.

  “Says the girl who can miraculously heal wounds,” Cole pointed out.

  Roxy waved him off. “There’s other Kickers with healing abilities way more impressive than mine. But I’ve never heard of a Kicker able to modify LF armaments like that before. Lewis Fields treat even complex firearms as a single piece of equipment, not an amalgamation of discrete parts. You might be the only one in DOR with that capability.”

  Cole shrugged. “Well, right now, installing bolts and barrels isn’t keeping Morganstern alive. If we’re doing this, let’s do it. I don’t want to get stuck in the Silk Forest after nightfall.”

  “Agreed,” said Howie.

  “What about Besson?” asked Roxy.

  Cole looked back. He could see the man covering their down-slope side, though he doubted the other two would have been able to spot him easily. “He’s with us—in his own way.”

  And hanging far enough back that if they were to get into too much trouble, he could make an easy escape. But he could have done the same thing when Ram-head chased Cole across the river, so he had to hope his instincts on the man were right.