Book 2: Chapter 25: On the Road

Book 2: Chapter 25: On the Road

Snow gently fell, drifting down from the slate gray sky as Carmen steadily trudged alongside the pickup truck. As heavily laden as it was, the vehicle could barely move more than a few miles per hour, and even that was only possible because of the incredible accomplishments of a few Engineers. Electric motors still worked after the apocalypse, but far less efficiently than they had in the past. As a result, even electric cars – or trucks, in this case – were vastly underpowered. Still, considering that they’d yet to find any proper beasts of burden – and if they did discover a herd of horses or oxen, they would probably be mutated and wild – it was the best way to move large quantities of gear, supplies, and goods.

The truck itself was one of seven they’d commandeered for the trip out to the mine, though even that number seemed inadequate, considering how much they needed to do to get the settlement up and running. Fortunately, Easton’s scouts as well as the men and women who worked as laborers had already cut a path through the wilderness. It wasn’t a road – not precisely – but it would make resupply much easier.

Of course, that wasn’t why Roman and his cronies had been so adamant about its construction. They didn’t care about what went to the mining settlement; instead, they were only concerned about what came out. Roman had big plans for how he intended to use the cold iron to catapult his budding kingdom to the top of the region’s pecking order.

That was fine by Carmen, because after Alyssa’s death, she’d begun to pull back from the settlement she’d helped found. And in that time, things had changed so much that she barely recognized it anymore. By all accounts, it was a successful city. They were well set up for security, and nobody really went hungry anymore. However, it was so far removed from the culture they’d lost in the apocalypse that it felt like an entirely different world.

Many of the freedoms modern society had taken for granted had been discarded. Any criticism of the city’s leadership – or of Roman himself – was met with swift reprisal in the form of banishment. The logic was that if someone disagreed with the way things were run, they could try to make their own way.

Some had left voluntarily, but even more had been cast out into the wilderness, kicking and screaming all the way. Carmen could understand it, too, and from both sides. In Roman’s favor was that his methods had turned Easton into a safe haven amidst the chaos of a changed and much more dangerous world. He provided protection and stability when both were in short supply. From his perspective, they had only survived because of his efforts, so having the methods by which he provided that survival questioned was tantamount to a slap in the face.

Even so, the idea that someone could be sentenced to death – because that’s what banishment usually meant – over spoken criticism was absolutely abhorrent. And making it even worse was that Carmen knew that if Alyssa had been there, she wouldn’t have allowed it to happen.

But at least Roman had come around on the subject of Scholars and the subset of classes that came from the archetype. In the beginning, the benefits those people offered were far outweighed by the cost of keeping them safe and fed while supporting their progression. Now, though, Easton had the resources to spare, and what’s more, they’d developed a need for the sort of people who could ease the burden of bureaucracy.

They still weren’t treated particularly well – at least not in comparison to crafters or combatants – but at least they weren’t refused entry altogether, which was a step up from the previous policy.

Whatever the case, Carmen had no interest in politics. She just wanted to get to the mine, get it working properly, and then progress her own path while raising her son. However, she couldn’t escape the reality that Roman’s policies could very well affect Miguel, so she knew she didn’t have the luxury of just ignoring it.

For now, though, she could focus on the things she could control.

To that end, she continued to walk aside the slow-moving truck. She was far from the first line of defense – there were dozens of scouts and other combatants traveling along with the convoy – but she remained alert regardless. She had also been wearing her armor almost constantly since leaving Easton a week before, and even if it was well-fitted, she was eager to get to their destination so she could go back to normal attire.

It wasn’t that it was too heavy. Her Strength attribute was more than capable of bearing the weight. But wearing a full suit of plate armor for twelve hours out of each day was incredibly uncomfortable. The only upside was that the experience had already prompted her to incorporate some changes into her designs.

Just as she was solidifying some of her plans in her mind, one of the scouts burst through the dense foliage, skidding to a stop just in front of Carmen. “What is it now?” she demanded.

The scout – a stout young man who’d only just gained his class – said, “Incoming. Apes of some kind.” He pointed back the way he’d come, saying, “The others are slowing them down.”

“How many?” asked Carmen, her grip tightening on Destroyer’s haft. Over the weeks since she’d finished forging it, the hammer had proved its worth a hundred times over. Crossing the threshold from Crude to Simple grade had been a qualitative leap forward, and one she was more than capable of exploiting in battle.

“Ten at least. Maybe as many as twenty.”

“Incoming!” Carmen bellowed in warning. The response was well-practiced as the trucks ground to a halt and the members of the caravan readied themselves for battle. Because the threat was omni-directional, the bulk of the responding force joined Carmen and the scout, but they knew better than to leave the other directions undefended. The result was a lopsided deployment with Carmen at the head.

There were a few decently strong combatants at her flanks, but none were the cream of Easton’s crop. Indeed, almost everyone she’d been given were, at best, green. At worst, they were the sort of below-average specimens Roman would have been glad to send away.

Others weren’t so limited, though no one was high enough level to truly affect the battle alone. As a result, teamwork and organized tactics proved to be the deciding factor. The chimps were powerful – far more so than any individual in the convoy – but they were also animals. As such, they didn’t fight with anything approaching a cohesive strategy, and that difference saw the defenders through to victory.

Still, it took hours until, at last, there were only a few left. Those were quickly dispatched until only a single wounded chimp faced off against Carmen. It was the biggest and strongest of the entire pack, and so, it would be the last to fall. Carmen stepped forward, slamming her hammer into its side. It tried to dodge, but it could do nothing to avoid the follow up attack.

With a sledgehammer strike that absolutely destroyed the skull of the last chimp, Carmen finished the battle. Looking around, she saw a few injured warriors, but miraculously, none had died. That was probably due to the Healers’ intervention, but it may well have been because of the group’s experience. They’d fought quite a few battles along the way, so it would’ve been odd if they didn’t get better at it.

She glanced back toward the truck to see Miguel standing in the bed, bow in hand and mostly empty quiver at his hip. He didn’t have an archetype yet, but he’d already proven himself a talented archer – which was just fine by Carmen. Anything that kept him out of the thick of battle was great, especially if it gave him the tools to survive when things inevitably went wrong.

To that end, he’d been training with the scouts and even taking lessons from some of the other combatants. The problem was that most of them had, only a few years before, led absolutely ordinary lives doing mundane jobs. There was only so much Miguel could learn from construction workers or accountants.

Even so, in the two-and-a-half years since the apocalypse had begun, Miguel had learned to handle himself with a handful of weapons. And he’d continue to train with those until he was given the opportunity to choose an archetype when he turned fourteen. That was still a few years away, but Carmen hoped that he would learn enough to set himself apart and gain a host of solid options.

She quickly found the man in charge of the combatants. Technically, he had equal standing with her, but Colt had made it clear from the very beginning that he saw her as the expedition’s true leader. Largely, this was based on the immense respect with which he’d held Alyssa, but it was also the result of his single-minded pursuit of personal strength. Either way, she appreciated it, if for no other reason than that she knew just how disastrous having two leaders could be.

The man himself was a little over average height, with relatively narrow shoulders, a thick black beard, and only stubble on his head. In his hand was a katana that Carmen had forged herself; it was still Crude grade, but it was still one of her better pieces, and she knew from experience that Colt was well-suited to using it.

In terms of levels, he was in the top five combatants in Easton, but in terms of actual skill, he was probably the most dangerous person in the settlement. Which was probably why Roman had sent him away. Like Alyssa before him, he’d made a habit of throwing himself into the thick of things, and his reputation had seen quite a boost because of his penchant for saving people.

Perhaps that was what would’ve happened to Alyssa, if she had lived. Maybe Roman would have sent her away, too.

Colt took off his wide-brimmed cowboy hat that was his personal affectation and wiped his forearm across his forehead before saying, “Could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Yeah. How far do we have until we get there?” she asked. “Because we can’t keep going like this indefinitely.”

“A day. Maybe two before the scouts get into range. Another couple of days for the rest of us.”

Carmen shook her head. “To think, there was a time when we would’ve been able to cover this much ground in a day. Wish these hunks of junk could go a little faster.”

Colt spat on the ground and said, “Not really my department. You want someone or something cut in half, I’m your guy. You want to figure out how to make cars run right? That’s more like your thing.”

“I’m no Engineer. I just smack hot metal with a hammer,” Carmen pointed out as she watched Colt use a spare bit of cloth to clean the blood and bits of chimp flesh from his blade. “If it was just a normal engine, I could maybe do something. But these electric motors?” She shook her head, then said, “I’ve heard that there are some Engineers back home who are trying to implement Ethera into the process. I’m not sure how that works, but I think I speak for everyone when I say I hope they figure it out soon.”

“Won’t get any argument from me.”

With that, they began the process of tending to the wounded and getting moving again. Soon enough, the sun started to dip below the horizon, and Carmen called for a halt. After spending the next hour making camp, she settled in with Miguel next to a fire.

After Alyssa’s death, he barely spoke anymore. Hopefully, getting the mine set up would give them both a fresh start.