Havok Bringer

Chapter 16. Country boys will survive?

Tiff stared, unsure how to respond. It was true that she and Andrew were friends, but it started as something else altogether. Tiff was assigned as his guardian during the initiation of the Reaping and the subsequent dungeon. She hadn’t known at the time that Andrew would be able to harness the suit to the level that he had. She also couldn’t have known that Elvis would become so fiercely loyal, but Elvis wasn’t the only one.

Andrew had endangered himself to free Tiff and allow her the freedom to decide to fully join the crew. Tiff knew she was endangering the rebellion and possibly her people, but she had developed trust in Andrew.

Their time on the Alcaran moon only further proved what Andrew was capable of as he surpassed even her own expectations of him. He proved himself a capable leader and a trusted ally, and he had even brought Kaj into the fold against her cautioning him against it.

Andrew had a long way to go before he fully lived up to the responsibility that came with the Havok Bringer armor and the Bloodhound, but he had proven that he was willing to try, no matter the cost to him personally.

To her credit, Tiff had never lost faith in him and continued to push him harder and harder. Things changed, however, as the crew continued to grow. At first, it had just been her and Andrew. CJ had come into the fold soon after, and eventually, Matty, Jax, Loren, Red, and Claire.

Tiff felt pain at the thought of Claire, who had been lost in the fight on the Alcaran moon. Even faced with the reality of losing people close to him, Andrew redoubled his resolve. He had used that pain to drive himself forward. At that moment, Tiff realized she held more than simply respect for the human. She still wasn’t sure exactly what these feelings were, but they were getting stronger.

“I’m sorry?” Tiff said, trying and failing to feign ignorance in the face of the revelation that had just been made.

Mrs. Dawes chuckled softly and shook her head, “Oh dear, I was to understand that you are an advanced biological AI, but you can’t see what is right in front of you? It seems to me that you are more human than you might think.”

“I chose a humanoid physiology as it seemed to be the most fitting for the reaping that was to come. I knew the reaping would be on Earth and was aware that I needed to instill a sense of trust if I was to be an effective guardian. I am happy to hear that you approve,” Tiff said, again feigning ignorance in the hope that Mrs. Dawes would leave it at that.

“Tiff, I haven’t seen my son in going on seven years. Can you believe that? I thought he was dead, and I mourned for him. So when he came back to me, I knew my prayers had been answered. The young man that I knew before the drop had returned with a power that I could hardly imagine; he returned and brought us hope. Do you understand how happy that makes a mother?”

“I can imagine you were very pleased, Mrs. Dawes,” Tiff responded.

“Pleased? Tiff, I felt like I lost a piece of myself, a piece of my heart. A mother never stops mourning their lost children. So when he came back, I felt whole again. My Andrew never had much luck with women, did you know that?” Mrs. Dawes asked.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Tiff replied, shaking her head slightly.

“Oh, he had girlfriends, sure. A couple even seemed serious, but he could never settle down. He liked the solitary life. Even when he would bring one home, I could tell that it wasn’t going to be serious. I didn’t see it in his eyes, and I didn’t see him look at them the way he looks at you,” Mrs. Dawes said as she placed a hand gently on Tiff’s forearm.

“Mrs. Dawes, I think you misunderstand,” Tiff began to say.

“You stop right there, Tiff. I know my son. I know that he has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you. To be fair, I don’t think he has admitted to himself yet, and now that I think about it, I don’t think you have either. I see it, though, in both of you. What you are feeling right now, that fear, that worry, those feelings of helplessness, that doesn’t happen for just anyone. Now, I don’t know how things work where you are from, but here on Earth, if we care for someone that much, we tell them. I am not saying that anything needs to change. What I am saying is that I think you need to consider that he isn’t going to stop. Do you understand? Those feelings will grow until they bubble to the surface, and one day, he will realize they are real. I just want you to be ready for that day. Be ready to either return those feelings or let him down gently,” Mrs. Dawes stood up and straightened her dirty apron, then grabbed Tiff by one hand, “Now, sitting in here and suffering alone isn’t going to do you any good. Andrew will contact you, I know that. Until then, would you come down to the settlement and help me with some things to pass the time?

“Yes, I can do that, Mrs. Dawes,” Tiff said as she stood and watched Mrs. Dawes turn to walk out the door, “Mrs. Dawes?”

“Yes, dear?” Mrs. Dawes turned to face Tiff one more time.

“Thank you…. For everything. Can I ask you to keep this between us for now?” Tiff said.

“Believe me, Tiff, a mother talking to her son about his alien love interest isn’t something I even want to do,” Mrs. Dawes said with a chuckle, “Now let’s go. There is plenty of work to do down in the settlement.

Michael felt like he had been on the run for weeks. In reality, it had been barely more than a week. Kinthragor was in and out of consciousness but assured Michael that he was improving. Michael knew nothing about the alien's physiology and couldn’t even diagnose primary symptoms. Did the alien have a fever? Michael couldn’t tell because the alien felt cold to the touch. He guessed the wound was maybe a bit warmer but couldn’t be sure. On top of that, is that even how the alien body worked? The body uses fever to kill contaminants and fight off infection. Does that mean that whatever species Kinthragor was, did the same thing?

There was so much unknown, so Michael continued doing what he could: feeding the alien and cleaning the wound often with clean water. That was about it.

To his credit, Kinthragor did at least have fewer total losses of consciousness. The alien slept, sure, but he didn’t lose consciousness unwillingly. Michael took that as a good sign and decided to stay the course.

The pair had made it into Georgia a couple of days ago and were currently skirting south of Atlanta near what used to be Macon. Michael and Kinthragor decided avoiding large metro areas was the best action plan. The UTV was sturdy, to be sure, but it wasn’t fast. It topped out at around 25 miles per hour and could only run about four hours before Michael would need to stop somewhere, pull out the portable solar generator, and recharge the battery.

Unfortunately, they weren’t using highways or roads, so they were only averaging about 10 miles per hour. Available sunlight only allowed them about two charges per day, with charging taking a solid hour or so. The pair had covered around 500 miles in a little over a week, so they were making decent time, but with the pace they were traveling at, Michael figured it would take somewhere between 12 and 15 days total.

“Hey, Kinny,” Michael reached into the bed of the UTV to poke the sleeping alien as he drove.

“Yes, I am awake, Michael,” Kinthragor said with a low growl.

“We need to stop soon and make camp. I haven’t seen signs of anyone around here, so this is as good a place as any. We have some fish left over from yesterday, but I haven’t seen anything that looks like it would have good odds of providing any more fish, so we are gonna have to do the best we can with what we've got,” Michael said as he looked from side to side trying to find a well-hidden spot to park the UTV.

“That is acceptable, Michael. I believe I should be able to assist with setting up camp and charging the vehicle. The pain is manageable today,” Kinthragor said as he sat up and began inspecting the wound, “The wound is healing nicely.”

Zip

Zip

“Whoah, What the hell was that?!” Michael shouted as he cut the wheel of the UTV to the left, trying to get behind some trees.

“I believe we are under attack, Michael,” Kinthragor said matter-of-factly.

“No shit! By what though? I didn’t hear any gunshots,” Michael hissed as he crouched as low in the cab of the now stationary UTV as possible.

Zip

Pop

Michael swung his head to see an arrow sticking through the passenger door of the UTV.

“Arrows? Really? They are shooting damn arrows at us! Kinny, stay down and stay covered,” Michael hissed the command to Kinthragor, who, in turn, covered himself in the tarp.

“Hey! I’m Human! I’m not one of the Lizards; stop firing at me!” Michael shouted in the direction the arrow came from as he lifted his hands above his head to show he was unarmed.

“What the hell you doin in that lizard rig then?” A voice with a thick southern accent asked in return.

“I stole it from the base up in Fort Bragg. I was part of a Wasp squad that got ambushed in Louisiana, and I’m just trying to make my way back home. They held me prisoner up there, but I escaped,” Michael shouted without exiting the UTV, hands still raised.

Michael could hear hushed whispers from the group, which couldn’t be more than twenty yards away, before the same voice responded again.

“So you spect us to believe that you just up and escaped a lizard jail? Much less a lizard jail on an old military base? Boy, what kind of fools do you take us for? You working for them damn lizards?” the voice asked again.

“No, I am not working for or with the Lacertines. I am simply trying to get home to my family. You can see that I am unarmed, and if you will let me, I will exit the vehicle and show you that I mean you no harm.” Michael said, trying to show that he wasn’t a threat.

“You stay right where you are; we will come to you. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT move, or we will fire on you with the intent of ending your life, boy,” the voice replied with an emphasis on the word boy.

Michael peered slightly over the door to see three men in their mid-to-late thirties approaching the UTV. One had a crossbow, and the other two carried machetes. The men did not look like they belonged to any settlement. Their clothes were dirty and ripped, and their long hair, scruffy beards, and black teeth spoke even more to that notion. The ring leader was in the front, with the other two cautiously at his rear, whispering to each other.

“We could sure use a rig like that; I think we may just have to take it off your hands. Are you okay with that boy? It don’t really matter if you are or not see, you are outnumbered three to one, and I don’t see a weapon one, so it’s just a matter of if you are going to give it to us? Or are we gonna take it by force?” the ringleader said with a phlegmy chuckle as he turned his head to one side and spat what looked like snuff.

The trio approached the UTV cautiously, and Michael turned his head and whispered to Kinthragor in the back of the UTV.

“Stay covered if at all possible. The last thing we need right now is for them to panic. I will try to de-escalate the situation, but if things go south, we will have to run for it,” Michael said.

Kinthragor just grunted in response. Michael wasn’t sure how they would get out of this one. Three-to-one odds and no weapons would be tough for anyone. Michael considered that maybe he could wrestle the crossbow away from the ringleader. If he could do that, he would have a bit more of an upper hand in the situation, as the other two just had basic melee weapons, but he needed an opening.

The trio was within a few feet of the UTV when Michael backed out of the driver’s door, hands still raised. The trio eyed him cautiously. Michael recognized something in the ring leader’s eyes then. Contempt? Anger? No, it was resolve. There was no chance Michael would be able to walk away, and there was absolutely no chance the trio was leaving without the vehicle.

Michael stood, hands still in the air. " Listen, fellas. I don’t want any trouble; I just want to be on my way.”

“You hear that, Clyde? This boy don’t want no trouble. Well, aint that just cute? You came into our woods, boy. Now that means you gotta pay the tax. Nobody skirts the tax, right Darrel?” the ringleader said.

“That’s right, boss! Nobody skirts the tax!” one of the other men, obviously named Darrel, answered.

Darrel was a short, chubby man with a brown, dirty beard to his chest and matted hair. He wore a sleeveless Pantera shirt that had seen better days, camouflage shorts, and old work boots. Clyde, the other lackey, was skinny to the point of looking malnourished. He wore an unkempt mullet, old torn jeans, some Hey Dude tennis shoes, and a shirt that read Wrangler butts drive me nuts. He had a thin, greying, scruffy beard and, at most, three teeth in his head.

The still, as of yet unnamed ringleader, had a stout build, coming in at around six feet tall and relatively muscular. Still, he didn’t strike a more refined demeanor than the other two. He wore boots, basketball shorts, and a red tank top about two sizes too small, emphasizing his bulbous gut.

The trio slowly circled the UTV, obviously taking in the contents of the cab and verifying whether anything else of value was inside.

“Clyde, check the bed. See what he is hiding under that tarp there,” The ringleader said as he approached me, eyeing me wildly.

“I wouldn’t do that, Clyde,” I said, taking half a step forward, hands still raised as the ringleader took the butt of the crossbow and slammed it into my stomach.

“We wasn’t asking permission, boy,” The ringleader said with a chuckle.

Clyde cautiously poked the tarp with his machete, looking curious, “It’s kind of mushy, Boss.”

“Well, see what it is, dummy! This boy might have brought us a nice deer or a pig! We gonna eat good tonight boys, whoowee!” the ringleader whooped and stomped one foot on the ground in celebration.

Michael chose that moment to act. The ringleader's attention was on the tarp in the back of the UTV, and he, fortunately, had turned away from Michael to see what was happening. Michael shot his right hand up, wrapping his fingers around the riser of the crossbow, pushing it up and away from his head where it was previously aimed.

The ringleader's face immediately twisted to surprise and anger as he spun back in Michael’s direction, but it was too late. Michael swung up with his left fist, landing a solid uppercut to the ringleader's chin before either Clyde or Darrel could react.

It wouldn’t have mattered, though; as soon as Kinthragor heard the struggle and the punch land, he shot up, blasting the tarp into the air. The faces of all three men immediately twisted in fear as they saw Kinthragor in the air, four arms spread, claws gleaming in the setting sun falling toward them with a roar.