《The Singing Road》


 The Singing Road Part 1

    Considering where they were going, and what would probably happen to them, Eli had a surprisingly good feeling about this assignment. He had been sent to all kinds of hell-holes in the East with poor equipment and impoverished crews. In one of his notebooks there was a list titled, ¡°Everything That Has Gone Wrong¡± detailing the various mishaps that he had endured over the years. There were day-one engine failures, mountainous treks where the only trained mountaineer broke their leg, fear-induced mutinies, hasty tribunals followed by botched executions, moisture ruining all of the good paper, and two expeditions that had ended with him as the sole survivor. There were 56 more items on the list, but only three of them had happened again on this trip¡ª so far. Him and another member couldn¡¯t see eye-to-eye on who was really in charge, but there was a piece of paper somewhere that said Eli had ¡°complete authority¡±. He had packed the wrong kind of clothing for the environment; the original plan had been to go during the summer, but he had decided to push it back to early winter, so that was on him. And less than a day into the journey, one member of the crew had already killed themselves.


    Thankfully it wasn¡¯t a specialist, just one of the six laborers they had picked up to help with setting up camp and running the vessel. And the other five were the kind who focused more on the newly available loft and increased rations instead of their dead comrade. That was good, it was too early to have something lowering morale. And the method chosen wasn¡¯t too traumatizing either. To begin with, Eli was already desensitized to suicides after witnessing people jump into alligator-infested water, or just off of buildings. He had even been the one to walk into a cabin with a newly-hanging corpse in it. However, he had never seen this exact method before, and now he was the one ruminating on it.


    Long ago, the people up here had discovered that the easiest, and least messy, way to end their lives was by freezing to death in their sleep. This person, apparently his nickname was ¡°Center-brace¡±, had gone outside last night with nothing but his undergarments and laid down in the newly fallen snow. He did look like he was sleeping when he died, and he appeared to be at peace, more so than some of the poison victims. The body had been found by ¡°Splint¡± as she went out to take a morning piss. She had continued to take her piss, then went back into her tent and calmly announced that they had a ¡°sleeper¡± to deal with once they had all woken up properly. At least this is what Eli had deduced from what he heard and the line of footprints going to and from the tree-line; there were a few extra prints around the body from when she had identified who it was.


    In between striking the camp-site, members of the crew had gone to the body and payed their respects. They had stood at the feet of the corpse, shifted uncomfortably, muttered something, taken a drink from whatever was in their personal flask, and gone back to work. Eli had gone up with ¡°Cone¡± to fulfill his obligation to the departed. How was the administrator going to talk his way through this? He saw Cone nervously side-eying him. Like any good merchant, he knew to look away and wait until someone else started the conversation.


    ¡°Can we bury him? With the ground frozen and everything?¡± Eli asked while looking at the corpse.


    ¡°We can heat spades with the engine and get him under, but it¡¯ll take time¡­ An extra hour, at least.¡± Cone said. None of this was actually about funerary rites. Eli needed to see how he responded to the death of a crew-member. Depressed? Bitter? Embarrassed that this had happened under his watch?


    Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°Did he leave a note or anything?¡± Eli asked.


    ¡°No. I asked his mates, he hadn¡¯t told them anything or given some kind of a will. They don¡¯t even know what he would have wanted.¡± Another side-eye from Cone.


    ¡°How would they not know what he wanted? They were on the same crew.¡± Eli said.


    ¡°From what I gather, Center-Brace was a new addition to this crew from another clan.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®from what you gather¡¯? These are the people that you brought on.¡± Eli said.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I hand-picked them. Do you¡­¡± Cone paused.


    ¡°One, my best people normally work on larger vessels and in larger groups. Two, this is their busy season, so it¡¯s not like I could get them for a contract like this.¡± Cone said. It didn¡¯t sound like he even knew what he was insinuating about this contract. Disdain? Fear?


    ¡°This isn¡¯t about me not getting ¡®the best¡¯, and I didn¡¯t ask you for it. All I wanted was people who were reliable, and you told me you¡¯d find those people. But it appears that not even you know what you ended up with.¡± Eli said with a sweeping motion that included the man in the snow. Cone bit his lip and stared at Eli. Behind those brown eyes and obviously frustrated countenance, there was the man that Eli needed for this job: someone who knew to admit fault and failure rather than being indignant.


    ¡°I apologize¡­ I assumed that this kind of thing would have been noticed by someone else. We should move out.¡± Cone said as he turned back to the ship. Eli lingered for a bit longer.


    ¡°You know I¡¯m not mad¡­ I just¡­ can you just assure me that no one else is gonna do something like this¡­ or worse?¡± He asked.


    Cone smiled as he climbed up the ladder. Their gunner, who was helping to secure the packed tents looked up at the corpse. Her and the pilot were the only people who hadn¡¯t gone out to look at the body. Even the guide had gone out and left a carved trinket in the man¡¯s frozen hand.


    ¡°We gon¡¯ bury ¡®im?¡± She asked as she jumped down to the walkway. Normally, she took the time to fully enunciate her sentences, but those times weren¡¯t when she was working, or eating. Because of his experience working with the people North of the Delta, Eli was her unofficial translator. Cone looked to him for guidance. Someone else answered.


    ¡°If someone chooses to sleep in the snow, then that is where they lie¡­ undisturbed. We forsake his body as he has forsaken the living.¡± One of the crew said from his perch on the bow. Eli hadn¡¯t learned his name yet, probably something derivative of heavy industry.


    ¡°Very well then, let¡¯s be on our way.¡± Eli said, leaving Center-Brace to whatever birds or¡­ other things were out there. That was the other good thing about this mission, nothing felt hidden up here. This was the planes: just hills, shrubs, stands of trees, and prairies for miles. And the trees weren¡¯t terribly thick like the woods he was used to, besides, it didn¡¯t even smell that bad. Maybe that was just the cold masking his senses. The intense cold and snow were the only new things. Relatively speaking, this land appeared innocent. Then again, if that really was the case, he wouldn¡¯t have been sent up here.

 The Singing Road Part 2

    ¡°Sign! 10 O¡¯Clock! 300 yards off! Ship-Sign! It¡¯s a Sail! Raft! We got a Raft!¡± The lookout screamed. For a moment, Eli thought that they had spotted someone trying their luck on one of the frozen rivers up here. Everyone except him and the gunner had no experience with naval ¡°ships¡±. To them, a ¡°raft¡± was just an especially small and shitty craft. Apparently this lookout, one of Cone¡¯s crew, was trained to identify the vessel¡¯s propulsion mechanism. What was the call for their craft? Wheel and skids?


    From his viewpoint, on the vessel¡¯s fuselage, Eli could see the sail riding above the trees. It looked like a wing, or some kind of fin. It was a dark brown with no visible seams, like what he had seen with the membranes of bats, or maybe it was catfish skin. Either way, it was loping through another clearing in the woods, apparently unaware of the 60-foot Relay Roller III right next to it. This begged the question, whose presence were they unaware of? Eli was adept at picking out shapes deep in bayous and forests, but not with snow, and certainly not at 50 miles an hour. He knew this pace was necessary in order to stay within their pick-up window, yet he felt some remorse at skipping over so many things. Center-Clip¡¯s, or whatever his name was, body was now hundreds of miles away. If this had been one of his normal trips, he would be around long enough to see the birds start to pick at it.


    ¡°Can you see his colors?¡± Cone shouted to the lookout after studying the sail for himself.


    ¡°No! Too much coverage!¡± The lookout said back. Cone grumbled something to himself before walking back to the pilot¡¯s console. Eli followed. There wasn¡¯t enough space in the pilot¡¯s little enclosure to fit all three of them, so he had to wait outside. Cone kept his grumbly expression as he talked with the pilot, who nodded as he focused on the terrain. After hearing something he liked, the pilot grinned and started steering the Roller closer to the treeline. Cone stepped out as Eli was fighting to keep his balance.


    ¡°Like I said, there might be some of my business popping up during this contract.¡± Cone said, also with a grin.


    ¡°You think they¡¯re someone you know?¡± Asked Eli.


    ¡°Remember how I was saying that my clan had been scuffling with the Blue-Rips last year? Well, there¡¯s only five clans that fly sails, and only one desperate enough to send someone up here.¡± Once again, Cone wasn¡¯t sure what his intended undertone for ¡°up here¡± was.


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that person could be from any one of the clans.¡± Eli said.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m pretty sure that this fella¡¯s a Blue-Rip, and even then, I¡¯ll take a 20 percent chance.¡± Cone said.


    ¡°Are you going to run him down?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Pilot says he doesn¡¯t want shit on the plow, and that he¡¯ll sleep a lot better if he knows the Regime girl can hit a moving target.¡± Cone said. A moving target, what did the pilot expect ¡°up here¡±?


    ¡°You really want me to ask her if she¡¯s willing to waste slugs on a 1 in 5 chance of¡­ what the fuck does this even get you?¡± Eli asked. Cone walked past him and climbed onto the center walkway.


    ¡°You¡¯re still new to this place. Take vengeance whenever you can, preferably when no one else is looking.¡± Cone said to arguably the most multicultural crew in a 500-mile radius. Dragging political squabbles into the mission was also on the list of things that could go wrong.


    ¡°Hey D.Q! How close do you need to be to hit a person?¡± Cone asked the gunner as she laid on top of the cargo. No one had mustered the courage to ask her what the name meant.


    ¡°Offa this rig?¡± Her eyebrow perked up and her cheek clenched, giving Eli enough of a view to speculate on what had been done to her mouth.


    ¡°50 would be nice, but I can make do up to a hundred. I¡¯ll get him down.¡± D.Q. assured Cone as she stood up and began pulling her gear out from the other bags. After some effort and accented cursing, she finally retrieved a rusted metal box that was almost as big as she was. When Eli recruited her, there had been a particularly entertaining conversation about stowing her weapon. Although he had never seen them without their weapons, he had assumed that Regime troops had containers to keep their armaments in. D.Q. had told him that such containers didn¡¯t exist: people of the Regime always carried their guns with them. Then she had started rhapsodizing about how that practice came to be¡ª whether it was out of paranoid bloodlust, or some kind of pride. Eli had been forced to interrupt her and ask if she could have a case made specially for the trip. She didn¡¯t ask questions, and had met the rest of the crew with four tanks of fuel and that box.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    As the pilot maneuvered the Roller through patches of trees and over mild hills. D.Q. assembled her weapon. Kneeling over her box, she reached into the container and handled its contents like she was fixing an engine or some other mechanical task that Eli had no taste for. He was curious about what was inside, mostly to learn about D.Q.¡¯s packing competence, but kept a respectful distance along with the rest of the crew. The finished product was some kind of a rifle with a barrel the length of Eli¡¯s leg, and an enormous lever on the side of it. D.Q. leaned it next to her as she fished for ammunition. She scooped up three slugs, each the size of Eli¡¯s fist, and shoved one into an opening on the rifle. After a moment¡¯s contemplation, she let the other two fall back into the box. She stood up and pulled the gun¡¯s lever. Eli wasn¡¯t sure what that did, but it definitely meant someone was going to die.


    The crewmembers who weren¡¯t below decks stepped out of her way as she walked to the front. Cone looked away from his angry watching of the sail and stared at the gun.


    ¡°Is that¡ª¡± He started before D.Q. cut him off.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, this is a light configuration! You have your two barrels, belt-fed, and fully automatic!¡± She shouted at him before bracing the rifle against her shoulder. By now, the entire crew had assembled behind her, even their guide who was still lurking behind the pilot¡¯s compartment. The sailing raft was now within firing distance, and Eli could see that the pitiful ship¡¯s captain was wearing blue. Even if this wasn¡¯t any kind of meaningful payback for the ¡°scuffling¡± that Cone¡¯s faction had endured, it would definitely make up for Center-Brace¡¯s stunt this morning. Eli only considered murders as something that went wrong when the victim was someone outside of the group, and if they didn¡¯t cause trouble for the crew afterwards. Perhaps this would be like that time with the pigeon-feeder and kick off a disastrous chain of events, leaving Eli as yet another sole survivor. Hopefully they were just gunning down a stranger for the shit of it, and nothing else.


    Eli had been too focused on watching the sail to see the slug hit the raft¡¯s captain. The ¡°crack¡± of the rifle was legendary, but the blood was lackluster. There had been a little splotch on the ground before the raft flipped over. He had become accustomed to the fine mist and chunks produced by Regime¡¯s close-quarter weapons. Nevertheless, he was confident that D.Q.¡¯s contraption would also make her wrists throb for the rest of the day. She allowed herself a brief smile before turning back to disassemble her weapon. He heard one of the crew muttering, ¡°hope we don¡¯t see that again¡±. Someone else yelped after trying to pick up the slug¡¯s ejected casing. Cone was staring at the blue figure in the snow.


    ¡°How long do you think that person has?¡± Eli asked D.Q.


    ¡°Hit his torso¡ª anywhere between five minutes to the rest of the afternoon. But he¡¯s not getting up.¡± She answered.


    ¡°Why do you ask?¡± Cone inquired.


    ¡°I have some questions¡­ I¡¯ll send him your regards.¡± Eli said as he started climbing down.


    About twenty feet past the wreckage, there was steam from where the slug had landed. The raft had been a few pipes held together by fabric and welds, but it was so firmly wedged into the snow that the sail couldn¡¯t move it. With some of the tethers twisted up or snapped off, the mass of brown fabric was partially folded, as if it was stooping over the carnage. By now, there was a respectable amount of blood coloring the snow and the figure¡¯s blue coat. Eli honestly couldn¡¯t tell their sex with their hood and severely emaciated frame. He didn¡¯t even know where the slug had gone through their body.


    ¡°Fuckers¡­¡± The person began.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t my call.¡±


    ¡°At least they could have had the¡­ balls¡­ to come down here and¡­¡±


    ¡°Why are you up here?¡±


    ¡°Just make it stop.¡±


    ¡°My man says you¡¯re a Blue-Rip, and that¡¯s a more Southern territory. What brings you here?¡±


    ¡°What are you?¡± They asked, angrily.


    ¡°Were you going to be a supplicant?¡± They chuckled.


    ¡°Tell your ¡®man¡¯ that my business is already done with¡­ Them¡­ they see everything that happens up here.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see about that.¡± Eli said as he knelt next to them.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you¡­ past the Singing Road.¡±


    ¡°Possibly¡­¡± He said, reaching into his jacket. The person looked like they were at an impasse between trying to say something more spiteful, or just letting their painful death do the talking. They had said what he had wanted to hear, and Eli slit their throat quickly. He wiped the blood off his knife with the remaining parts of the blue coat that weren¡¯t already soaked.


    ¡°Past the Singing Road¡­¡± He said to himself. Two deaths in, and the good feeling still hadn¡¯t left him.

 The Singing Road Part 3

    By now, the crew should have developed the impression that Eli wasn¡¯t just a researcher. Even if they had never worked with someone in his trade before, they probably held the notion that researchers and other professional intellectuals were just scrawny pricks who read books while others did the work. Most of this was true, especially about the other members of his order. Those people were infamous as being some of the skinniest and least sociable humans on the planet. However, none of that mattered as they were also the smartest little shits to ever exist. Eli was one of them, technically, and just as he wasn¡¯t a full member, he couldn¡¯t rely on his knowledge alone. He needed his people-skills and the endurance to make it through a shift; he also had to be a fantastic liar.


    Even now, a few members of the crew were on the verge of staring in awe at him as he walked back to the ship. They had already been the victim of Eli¡¯s skill at talking his way through bars and canteens to find local professionals, and convincing said professionals to join a vaguely defined ¡°expedition¡±. He had been hauling his own bags when they had loaded up the Roller yesterday evening, even though there were twelve of them, and five were full of reading materials. Many had bore witness to him holding his own weight and liquor during some pre-mission boozing, and then address a suicide victim the following morning. And now, a few people might have thought they saw him mercy-killing the unfortunate captain of the raft, but they couldn¡¯t be sure. No one was sure about what Eli wanted with them up here, and that¡¯s how he preferred it.


    He stopped in front of the rope ladder that had been thrown down and put his hands on his hips to address Cone. He felt kind of playful like this, he also felt himself sinking into the snow a little bit.


    ¡°The fellow back there also sends his warm regards to you, he says he wishes that you ¡®had the balls to send him off.¡± He said. Cone chuckled.


    ¡°We¡¯d best be going now.¡± The merchant replied.


    Eli started climbing up the rope ladder. It was easy enough to go over the ship¡¯s railings and handle the six-ish foot drop into the snow, but there was no way to climb back onto the ship. There were two ladders on the sides, along with this rope ladder. He had been assured that the device was over sixty feet long in case they had a straggler or a scenario where they needed to retrieve someone but couldn¡¯t risk slowing down. The pilot had told him about that feature when Eli informed him of their destination.


    ¡°You scared?¡± Eli teased when he was back on the deck. Cone blinked, and at least four people looked back and forth between him and Eli, and then at the surrounding wilderness.


    ¡°Fuck you.¡± Cone answered, doing his best to make it sound like a joke. He even went as far as to attempt another chuckle. People were looking more at the woods now. The mood was souring fast, he shouldn¡¯t have asked about Cone being scared. Well, it looked like it was up to Eli to brighten the mood.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re going to last another four hours¡­ making it to the first camp-site with nothing to do but admire the surroundings¡ª come down to my quarters, I¡¯ll put something on the kettle, introduce the crew more¡­ ¡®Formerly¡¯ if you will, and answer any questions you might have. Besides, I think we¡¯ve had enough action for one day.¡± Eli said before leading the way to the access-hatch to his quarters. No one in the crew was hesitant to follow him down. A few made an effort to shake the snow off of their clothing, or pack an excess layer into their bags before following. The guide made one complete scan of her surroundings before unknotting her scarf and scampering down.


    The Relay Rollers were designed to be mobile boardrooms. Instead of asking for privacy and a large space aboard their ships, or agreeing to rendezvous at a remote camp, high-ranking captains and other officials used the rollers to conduct their business. Treaties were signed, and policies were adjusted in the comfort of the main fuselage. Roughly the size of an old grain silo, Relay Roller I basically was a grain silo with a tractor attached to it, the fuselage or ¡°pipe¡± contained a carpeted floor, ten chairs, a desk, a kitchenette, and a surprisingly well-made projector system. It did not have a shitter. Behind the pipe was the iconic ¡°roller¡±, a twelve foot wide tire. The pilot¡¯s enclosure and all of the mechanical¡­ stuff was to the right of the wheel, while cargo space was to the left. There were skids mounted at the front for steering. The vessels could also be customized depending on the journey¡¯s needs. Eli had asked for a heavy-duty plow, a deployable tent that could house the rest of the crew, a cot for himself, and a tripod mounted at the end of the Pipe so he could use a telescope through the window-slits.


    He had also been curious about how the five remaining members of the unspecialized crew would respond to being allowed inside a Roller¡¯s cabin. Without a doubt, they had seen one blasting across the horizon while they were stuck on whatever rigs they had been assigned to. And they had definitely seen the great captains and their retainers who used these machines, from a distance of course. But here they were, in one of this world¡¯s many unorthodox halls of wisdom and significance. The leather chairs they were sitting in had held the asses of people who had raised thousands out of desperation, and stopped wars. How much of that been done aboard Relay Roller III? Regardless, these people couldn¡¯t be bothered. All of the five common crew had claimed a chair for themselves and were stress-testing the seat¡¯s ability to spin around. Thankfully, their normal working environments were so turbulent that Eli didn¡¯t have to worry about one of them getting sick. Cone sat as close to him as possible, while D.Q. claimed a chair for herself and Eli¡¯s desk for her boots, the guide lurked in a corner.


    ¡°Can your pilot hear us?¡± Eli asked Cone as he unfolded the projector from the wall and tried not to make an ass of himself with the lighting system. From what he understood, the light shined through his papers, reflected off of a mirror near the ceiling, and that ended up¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m here! I¡¯ll stomp or something if there¡¯s a question.¡± The pilot shouted through a vent that Cone had just opened. He would have to make sure to close it later.


    ¡°We¡¯re getting bored!¡± One of the crew shouted, it might have been Splint. She was only screwing around. Eli shot her a glance and she jumped in her chair.


    After more trial and error, Eli had the silhouette of his hand projected against a wall of wooden cabinets near the back of the pipe. That was supposed to be the screen. The Roller¡¯s designers could add carpets and amazing lighting, but not a cloth screen or electrical intercom. This would do. He¡¯d had to climb the last 30 feet of a decayed skyscraper without a pick once. But this was a new thing that could go wrong: shitty presentation materials. This would also be his first actual ¡°presentation¡±, instead of just asking the team to crowd around him while he pointed at a map.


    ¡°Without further adieu, I present¡­ The itinerary!¡± Eli said to a mixed reaction. A few grinned, but at least two people looked like they wanted to throw themselves in front of the plow.


    ¡°My name is Ellis Blicker, but you can call me ¡®Eli¡¯, and I am the head researcher of this expedition.¡± He said.


    ¡°Who¡¯s expedition is this?¡± One of the crew-members asked. Eli hadn¡¯t heard from this one before.


    ¡°My order, the Formers.¡±


    ¡°But the Guild owns this ship!¡± Another crew-member, Splint, exclaimed.


    ¡°You could say that Formers owns the Guild¡ª sorry.¡± Eli apologized to the crew.


    ¡°The arrangement is that Formers consults for the Guild, and they give us the resources and personnel we need for whatever our projects might be¡­ so you will all be compensated through the Guild.¡± Eli felt like he had to clarify this.


    ¡°My second in command is Sylvester, but everyone calls him ¡®Cone¡¯ he¡¯s done some great work down South as a merchant.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯d ¡®Cone¡¯ come from?¡± One of the crew asked.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s his hat.¡± Someone whispered


    ¡°It¡¯s his dick.¡± Someone else said. Cone shrugged.


    ¡°Regardless of where his name comes from, he got us this ship, our supplies, and our pilot.¡± Cone attempted a bow in his chair.


    ¡°It¡¯s Pontius!¡± Came the pilot¡¯s voice from his vent.


    ¡°As in like¡­ Pontius Pilate?¡± Eli asked.


    ¡°Because I¡¯m the pilot!¡±


    ¡°Your name¡¯s Pontius¡­ you haven¡¯t read the¡­¡± Eli didn¡¯t bother to ask if he had read the Bible.


    Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°He¡¯s handpicked.¡± Cone assured him.


    ¡°And we are joined by five laborers from Cone¡¯s clan. Could you go around and say your names?¡±


    ¡°Hugo!¡± This was the person who had demanded that Center-Brace¡¯s body be undisturbed.


    ¡°Varny!¡± Had the stained hair and clothing of a painter, or at least a chemical specialist.


    ¡°Splint!¡± Had a set of knives and a sewing kit on her vest, she looked like a medic.


    ¡°Beefcake!¡± Despite the dim-witted nature this name implied, Beefcake had been cracking jokes and exchanging snide comments with Splint for most of the meeting. He was also absurdly muscled.


    ¡°Dedschik!¡± Kicked up her metal leg.


    ¡°Ded-schick?¡± Eli clarified.


    ¡°Dead-Chick. She fucking refuses to die!¡± Beefcake explained. The people who Eli encountered on these trips fucking refused to be remotely ordinary.


    ¡°And that leaves¡­¡± Their guide picked up the slack.


    ¡°Warra, I¡¯ve lived in this region my whole life, know the terrain by heart, I get game and some forage, and I¡¯m on good terms with the locals.¡± Warra said, she was basically


    reciting the terms that her and Eli had agreed on.


    ¡°Last and certainly but not least, our¡­ security officer. This is D.Q.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the name stand for?¡± Varly asked.


    ¡°Q¡¯s for Queen.¡± The gunner responded.


    ¡°And the D?¡± Asked Cone.


    ¡°Dick.¡± Said Beefcake.


    ¡°You really wanna know?¡± She asked, with one hand reaching toward her left shirtsleeve.


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Almost everyone said in unison.


    D.Q. Pulled up her shirt sleeve to show an image of a boar¡¯s head with a bullet going through the top of it, made entirely out of scar tissue.


    ¡°Death, motherfuckers! I¡¯m the Death Queen!¡± She proudly announced. The piece on her shoulder was made by ¡°muzzle-art¡±, a Regime practice of burning tattoos onto people with the superheated business-ends of their weapons. A piece like that would have taken several hours, and at least a hundred rounds to keep the weapon hot enough to consistently give those third degree burns.


    ¡°I need one of those.¡± Dedschik said.


    ¡°We might need one of you on my squad.¡± D.Q. replied.


    ¡°She¡¯s here, from Regime, as part of a multi-party reimbursement plan. I honestly have no idea of what actually happened, but apparently there was this¡­ misunderstanding between Regime, Formers, and some valuable cargo. So, she¡¯s just with us to pay some debts.¡± Eli explained.


    ¡°So you don¡¯t think we¡¯ll actually need D.Q. and her machine gun?¡± Hugo leaned forward to ask, like this was the most important question that had popped up so far.


    ¡°It¡¯s an autocannon.¡± Said the gunner.


    ¡°I always like to have some kind of security on these expeditions¡ª because I carry a lot of valuable equipment. I was just going to have a launcher mounted, or ask if any of you were good with a crossbow or something. D.Q.¡¯s just an added bonus¡ª and she¡¯s the best mechanic on her squad.¡± Eli said. Hugo wasn¡¯t fully convinced.


    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®these expeditions?¡± Beefcake asked, with air-quotes.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting there. First, let¡¯s talk about our timeframe.¡± It was finally time to put that projector system to good use.


    Eli displayed the slide showing their proposed route as a dotted line that bounced off of a solid line at the top of the paper.


    ¡°As you know, we are currently aboard the Relay Roller III. last night we launched from the Dreadnaught, Rusted Horizon, and we are currently headed north¡­ to the Singing Road.¡± Eli said, gesturing to the solid line.


    ¡°Warra has identified a number of points of interest, we are currently heading towards¡­ Triangle, right now.¡± Eli pointed to the triangle, which was right next to a note that read ¡°PB Town 5¡±


    ¡°Meanwhile, the Rusted Horizon will continue on its course to the East.¡± Eli made sure to swipe his hand across the bottom of the paper so there wasn¡¯t any confusion. Was that patronizing?


    ¡°We have a five day window before the Horizon passes, that¡¯s our only opportunity for an extraction by a Guild vessel.¡±


    ¡°Extraction.¡± Beefcake sniggered. Was he being too serious?


    ¡°Any questions on our travel plans?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Will we be going to the double-X?¡± Hugo asked. That was the only site which was above the Singing Road. Eli paused. The entire room was still. Beefcake had even stopped leaning towards Splint and was now staring at him. Eli was almost certain that if he said that they were going to the Double-X, the crew would kill him on the spot. His next sentence would mean the difference between wrapping up the presentation, and Dedschik¡¯s steel foot going through his skull.


    ¡°That¡¯s why I have the telescope and the mounting. You don¡¯t have to physically be somewhere to see what¡¯s so interesting about it... Besides, it¡¯s only an airplane wreck. And there¡¯s no shortage of those.¡± Eli said to Hugo¡¯s relief. But some of the tension remained.


    ¡°What are you going to do?¡± Beefcake asked the question of the hour.


    ¡°This is a research expedition. Research.¡± Eli said. It was worth a shot.


    ¡°What kind of research?¡± Hugo was leaning forward again.


    ¡°He needs us for the blood-sacrifice.¡± Beefcake quipped.


    ¡°Goddamn it, Beefcake¡ª I was going to make that joke!¡± Cone said. A few people chuckled, and the good feeling held for a whole five seconds before they realized that Eli hadn¡¯t said anything, or even defended that there wouldn¡¯t be blood-sacrifice. Once again, he could feel Dedschik¡¯s boot on his neck while Beefcake and¡­ probably Hugo held him down.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to do exactly what I¡¯ve done for all 14 expeditions that I¡¯ve led¡­¡± Eli said, calmly, but enthusiastic. What good was this job if he didn¡¯t enjoy it?


    ¡°I¡¯m going to investigate nearby points of interest, conduct interviews with witnesses and locals, and do my best to create a factual record of any phenomena that we encounter.¡± He said, smiling at the end.


    ¡°While doing my best not to risk the health and safety of my crew.¡± He added.


    ¡°Have you ever lost any of your crew to a ¡®phenomena?¡± Varly asked. Eli would have bet one of his scotch bottles that Varly didn¡¯t know what that word meant.


    ¡°I had two people go overboard during a storm on the Delta, we lost a woman to a rockslide around the Catskills, and six folks accidentally poisoned themselves after drinking from a bad spring.¡± Those could have been avoided; he couldn¡¯t say the same for most of the deaths.


    ¡°Have you ever done an expedition like this?¡± Asked D.Q.


    ¡°Like ¡®this?¡¯ There¡¯s a lot of different answers to that. Have I ever led an expedition in this region? Not quite. Most of my work is in the East, but I¡¯ve come out to the Belt a few times before. This is the furthest North I¡¯ve ever been. Have I ever had a team this large? Technically, no. I piggybacked on a convoy of ruin-strippers as they were heading towards a new site, and there were over seventy of them. Normally, my group is only five strong. And this is the first time I¡¯ve worked on any kind of frost-ship¡­ let¡¯s see¡­ Am I doing anything special with this expedition that I wouldn¡¯t normally do?... I would say that I¡¯m not usually this formal with the crew, doing introductions and everything¡­ Then again, each assignment is different. So¡­¡± What did the crew need to hear from this? Eli took a deep breath.


    ¡°I am well aware that many of you are nervous about our destination¡­ The Singing Road¡­ You have a good reason to be scared. As did all of the other crews that I have worked with over the years. My expeditions go to places that are shrouded in mystery and bad omens. But to answer Varly¡¯s earlier question¡ª No, I have never lost a crew-member to a ¡®phenomena¡¯. The same way that¡­¡± Now he found himself staring at the vent in the back of the meeting-room.


    ¡°You know why Pontius isn¡¯t with us right now? Because he¡¯s our pilot¡ª he¡¯s trained in how to operate a vessel like this, and we all trust him to do so. We¡¯re putting our lives in that guy¡¯s sweaty hands.¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re doing the same with your soft ones.¡± Hugo answered.


    ¡°Basically. Because you know I¡¯m a professional. Pontius pilots, Warra makes sure we don¡¯t get lost, Cone organizes shipping, D.Q. puts holes in things, Beefcake¡­ makes jokes, and I research ¡®phenomena¡¯. So please trust me when I tell you that I¡¯m damn good at it, and that if you do as I say, and help me do my research, we¡¯ll all be home and dry on the Rusted Horizon before we know it. Deal?¡±


    Hugo, the one who had proven to be the one who needed the most convincing, leaned back and crossed his legs. He was an old and well seasoned man, and the other four crew-members would follow his lead.


    ¡°You got a deal, Formers.¡± He said. Was saying the name of Eli¡¯s order supposed to be a slight or something?


    D.Q. and Cone shrugged, he knew that they had been onboard since he had first talked with them. Meanwhile, Warra was staring at him from the back of the pipe as if she knew every lie that he had told during that speech. He was honestly proud of doing an oration like that. And he was also confident that Pontius would do whatever Cone said, so he wasn¡¯t a concern.


    Things were still going very well. Why should he be surprised about this? He had been planning this mission for several months now. Even though most of that time had gone to independent research, he had still been meticulous with the recruitments. This was a good group: diverse but universally suspicious of what had brought them together. And they seemed to get along well enough, except for the guide. He could have done a better job on restraining his own gallows humor, and maybe being less condescending. Then again, he still had to act like a Formers, even if it meant being a dick. He didn¡¯t want to keep chatting around with everyone else like he was one of them. Sure, he¡¯d make good on his promise for warm tea, and let them spin around in those chairs some more. Then he¡¯d shoo them off and start re-reading some materials. But he was satisfied; these people would hold together until things got really intense.

 The Singing Road Part 4

    As he had said in his little speech before the crew, the mysteries and bad omens surrounding the Singing Road were plentiful. However, the facts were sparse, probably the sparsest he had ever seen for a mission. While he had those five bags full of reading materials, all of the truly indisputable information could be written on his hand. Those bags were full of testimonies, transcribed interviews, witness depictions, and all manner of reliably-sourced, but completely subjective data. And most of that data was conflicting. People said the phenomena happened exclusively at night, or just when visibility was poor, that the phenomena had to be targeted at them, that their encounter was random, that it looked like a bird¡­ sometimes. Even the mortality rate was inconsistent. He had calculated the average to be 96%; there was also a 12% chance for no casualties, but that didn¡¯t interest him. Eli didn¡¯t exactly have a death-wish, but he hadn¡¯t done all of this work to wind up with only a little blood on his hands.


    There might have been small pieces of bone on D.Q.¡¯s boots. They had left a breast-line shaped stain on his desk when she had left. Most of the stain had been dirty snow, which had melted into the papers. But there were a few leftover chunks. Most of them were gravel or other small rocks, however some of them were pale white. He pinched one of them for a better look. After some intense squinting, all he could deduce was that it was indeed white, and solid. If he put it under his microscope, he might have found that it had the crystalline structure of marble or some other white stone, and not the porous make-up of bone. However, it was late in the afternoon and he was too comfortable at his desk to unpack the microscope, and not interested enough to make the whole bone-marble debate into a metaphor for how exact methods in research helped cut through ambiguity. He¡¯d find something else to equate the Singing Road¡¯s phenomena to, when he was done reading.


    Where would he start with this? He didn¡¯t have enough time to skim through everything, and too much for only one binder. And he would sooner be forced to hastily re-pack than go up and talk with the crew to kill time. There wouldn¡¯t be any time to himself once they arrived at the camp. Well, he was a Formers. Why not start with the literature of his people?


    EP-S Dept. Case File 02 ¡°The Singing Road¡± hadn¡¯t been touched since it had first been given to him. He¡¯d gone through it, made notes, and then started his own research. That habit had served him well whenever he had a new assignment. The binder exterior was three metal sheets held together with hinges, and the actual pages were also made of quarter-inch thick steel rectangles. The letters were indents on the sheets. Formers made their archival materials to last, and this was no exception. From what he had been told, these binders were printed directly from the order¡¯s digital libraries and there were only a handful of machines in the world that could produce them. Compared to all of the worn paper and scratched out words that he possessed, the official binder was uncomfortably mechanical. Even the text read like it hadn¡¯t been touched by human hands.


    As he had hoped, there wasn¡¯t anything in there that he didn¡¯t already know. The main reason that he didn¡¯t re-read these binders until the last minute was that he hated reading something that he had forgotten about. Everyone made mistakes, and he didn¡¯t need to be reminded of them before an expedition started. Besides, surprises were always welcome. He did find a particularly handy distinction on the earliest reported event. This was from before the Singing Road was even considered a location capable of producing ¡°phenomena¡±. The important takeaway was that Formers only had proof that a U3C operation had been ordered on I-94, not that it had been completed. The actions of U3C, also known as ¡°Unprecedented Civil Collapse Coordination¡±, or ¡°The Amoral Death-Throes of a Military Superpower,¡± were responsible for files 01 to 05 in Eli¡¯s department. He knew that the Formers had a complete list of their operations, and was almost certain that it was impossible for someone to read it without crying at the absurdity. He found this nuance intriguing, as it left a lot of room for speculation. While the binder included the original command that had been issued to the military bases and pilots, it fell on his shoulders to see how well it had been executed. That would have to be where he started, and he already had an idea of who he should talk to for that¡­


    ¡°Am I intruding?¡± Asked Cone, after he was already halfway down the ladder to Eli¡¯s room. It just occurred to him that he had over three quarters of the Roller to himself.


    ¡°I¡¯m busy.¡± Eli said, trying to dismiss him.


    ¡°I see that.¡± Cone replied. This warranted Eli turning in his chair to face the merchant. The snow kicked up from the plow had not been kind to him, he looked like something was trying to paint him over in white. But he didn¡¯t look like he had come down here just to warm up. And the shadows being cast from the hatch were too orderly to be made by trees alone.


    ¡°We need to talk.¡± Cone said.


    ¡°We can do that while I read, close the hatch.¡± Eli said. He put the Formers binder on the desk and pulled out one of his case-studies from over the summer. Cone sat in a chair to the left of his desk and glanced at the metal binder. Eli should have turned it so the cover reflected lamplight at him.


    ¡°You¡¯re not chipped, are you?¡± Cone asked. This was normally one of the things that went wrong: people being too suspicious about his lack of an implant. At least he knew that Cone was too timid to try and check his head for surgical scars while he was asleep. Eli didn¡¯t care to track how many times he had woken up to someone fondling his scalp, nor speculate all of the times when he had slept through those examinations.


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t think I am.¡± Eli said, as he flipped through the binder. This had been the crew from that herding syndicate. He remembered the stench of shit from their surviving cows more than anything else. Their ship was designed to be flipped over when there wasn¡¯t enough snow for their herds to pull it, and it was painted red like an old barn. He made a deal that he would help them move their stock to a nearby settlement in exchange for their testimonies and descriptions. Looking back, part of him wondered if he made that arrangement to spend time around animals again.


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    ¡°That¡¯s funny.¡± Cone said. Eli didn¡¯t bother looking up to hear the accusation.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never met a Formers who didn¡¯t have a chip in them¡­ isn¡¯t that what makes you people so special?¡± Cone asked. Those people with the cows had encountered a phenomena as they were cross-cutting a section of planes. It was the only incident where there had been writing involved. The phenomena had detailed its terms in the cow¡¯s blood. Eli had been ready to write the incident off as grimly imaginative bandits, but some of the mutilations were too¡­ He didn¡¯t have the word for it, but he had a strong feeling that this was a Singing Road phenomena. Feelings, yes. He¡¯d written extensively about that elsewhere. Eli looked faced Cone as he groped for his next reading.


    ¡°And I¡¯ve never met a guy named ¡®Cone¡¯ who didn¡¯t have a pointed head¡­ or an absolutely bizarre dick.¡± Eli said. Cone smiled.


    ¡°It¡¯s short for ¡®Silicone¡¯ I¡¯m the administrator for its refinement and transport. You know, my clan is the only group on the continent who can supply Formers with the purity they need to make new chips.¡± Cone said. Eli looked down at his new reading. This was just an old notebook with a few pages he had put markers in. Over his last expeditions, he had found that a good exercise was listing the most common emotions that interviewees described. Naturally, ¡°afraid¡± and all of its synonyms were at the top. Below those, he found more exotic descriptors, like ¡°despaired,¡± ¡°anxious,¡± ¡°hopeful,¡± and ¡°complacent, like I stood accused of something and was just waiting for the punishment¡­ and I was fine to wait until it was my turn¡­ they were helping me to wait.¡± That quote had come from a sole-survivor.


    ¡°Do you know where those chips go?¡± Eli asked, now he was making eye-contact with Cone.


    ¡°Obviously not to you.¡±


    ¡°Nor my department.¡±


    ¡°What department is that?¡±


    ¡°Aberration Studies.¡± Eli said. Another reason that he had picked Cone, was that he knew this man scared easily.


    ¡°Aberration Studies?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re divided into four specialties. There¡¯s the Internal specialists, who study phenomena in the Order itself, caused either by psychosis¡­ or faulty hardware. The newly-created Swell and Deltan specialists¡ª that¡¯s self-explanatory. Then there¡¯s the chemical specialists¡ª they deal with unique toxic or radioactive spills.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the fourth specialty?¡±


    ¡°Social. Myths, cults, urban legends, folklore, gods, monsters¡­ I work with the supernatural.¡± Eli had honed that line to a devastating edge over the years. The real trick had been getting the order right.


    ¡°You¡¯ve lost me.¡±


    ¡°Are there really gods and monsters?¡±


    ¡°Fuck no.¡±


    ¡°What are they then?¡±


    ¡°Stories and exaggerations.¡±


    ¡°But my order works in facts.¡± Eli said, spreading his arms out to all of the packed text around him.


    ¡°So they send you to places like this¡­¡±


    ¡°To find out what¡¯s really going on.¡±


    ¡°You still haven¡¯t answered my question. You do all of this work for Formers, so why don¡¯t you have the thing that makes you a Formers?¡± Cone asked. He was more resilient than Eli anticipated.


    ¡°I asked this question when I was first recruited for this job. They told me that a chip wouldn¡¯t be required for my work, so long as I was good at remembering and writing things down, and they also said it would make it more difficult for me to interact with remote populations¡­ having a computer chip put through my skull and all.¡± Eli said.


    ¡°Could you have one put in if you wanted?¡±


    ¡°Sure¡­ but I like doing the work without one.¡± He said. Cone nodded, and frowned a little as he looked at the metal binder on the desk.


    ¡°Some of the people up there were wondering, about that. Because all they know about Formers is that they have the chips in them. But they all like you¡­ and I¡ª I like you, but¡­¡±


    ¡°But what?¡± Eli asked.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been doing business with your order for almost a decade, and¡­¡±


    ¡°You still don¡¯t trust us?¡±


    ¡°I still don¡¯t¡­ I just don¡¯t know what it is that you guys¡­ You all make me, uneasy¡­ with how much you all seem to know¡­ and how little you tell us.¡± Cone said. How long had that confession been brewing in him?


    ¡°You know what you¡¯ve never told me? And what I find awfully funny?¡± Eli asked.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What a man like you, who¡¯s done almost ten years of business with one of the most powerful factions in the world, is doing up by the Singing Road¡ª especially one who¡¯s as scared of it as you.¡± Cone frowned yet again.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s like you said. I started up that silicone trade, and for the past six years I¡¯ve been bored with it¡­ I¡¯m bored with what I do and¡­ everything, and I was about to start hating it. Then you came along, and¡­ Eli, I¡¯m 58 years old. I don¡¯t want to die and say I was just a merchant who made sure the fucking shipments came in on time¡­ I¡ª¡± Eli raised his hand. He really didn¡¯t want to hear this.


    ¡°Spare me the melodrama, it¡¯s OK. We all want some adventure in our lives.¡± Now Cone was confused.


    ¡°You asked¡ª¡±


    ¡°I thought there might be something else you wanted to do up here.¡± Eli said. Cone chuckled, but Eli could see that he was pissed enough to ask Pontius to run him over, or have one of the crew push him over the rails.


    ¡°You know, you¡¯re an even bigger asshole than some of the chipped fellas.¡± Cone said as he stood up to leave. Eli kept smiling at him until he got bored of that and started reading again. Cone would be the first.


    Now he was onto a sheet he had written on the major commonalities of the phenomena:


    ¡°All of the interactions indicate that THEY are animated to some extent. Many people have advocated that in hind-sight it might have just been an advanced siege machine, but mechanical experts have repeatedly stated that no machine they know of can move like the phenomena they saw. However, all agree that the phenomena are composed of an aggregate of mu¡ª¡±


    He heard the brake pads, or whatever the stopping mechanism was, screeching. Either there was something in their way, or they had arrived at the first point of interest.

 The Singing Road Part 5

    Eli had a theory that the best climbers were the people who had to master the art on the fly, or be killed. He had learned how to ascend the studded pine trunks and rough-hewn cabins of his childhood. While he was as good as any small child could be at climbing, he only did it when he wanted to gain a vantage point, or get the jump on some of his family¡¯s pigs. Every other person his age probably had some fond memories of scampering up the ruins in their community, or the rigging of whatever vehicles they were traveling in. But if he consulted those born before the ¡¯40s or even the mid ¡¯30s, he¡¯d receive those people¡¯s tales of running for their lives, and shivering against branches while their family¡¯s killers stalked beneath them. And other good times like that. Warra was still climbing like the early marauders were on her tail.


    She had reached the top of a store building in the time it had taken Eli to¡­ she hadn¡¯t even given him enough time to see what else was on the main street. He had asked to see the town from the rooftops first. Everywhere around the Roller was too crowded with people making camp, and being up there would make him feel like an overseer of some kind, which was always nice. Besides, it would be nice to give Cone a sense of command and some responsibilities besides questioning the researcher. He could hear them barking at each other as they unrolled the tent and brought out provisions. But what would they do after that? This might be one of the rare scenarios where the crew became distraught by idleness alone. That had happened once before, and it was incredibly predictable.


    His climb up the side of the building wasn¡¯t as bad as he thought it would be. The remnants of a large truck had been parked a few feet from the structure, so he was really climbing the vehicle and kicking against the wall when he needed support. He had learned how to climb the old world¡¯s vehicles on the trading excursions that his family lead to a nearby settlement. The local children had taught him how to wedge his feet into different kinds of hub caps, and see if the roof was still walkable. There was still glass in the truck¡¯s window, so he couldn¡¯t rest his foot on the door. After some particularly embarrassing maneuvers, he rolled himself onto the building¡¯s roof. He started sinking. There was over a foot of snow on everything out here, and for a moment he honestly thought that he would need to ask Warra to pull him out. When he sat up, he found her squatting near the edge and looking out.


    They really were in the middle of fucking nowhere. This feeling had been growing in Eli since he had been told he was going to the Singing Road. Cone had warned Eli about how remote their destination was, multiple times, but he wasn¡¯t bothered. His route up to the Rusted Horizon had been met with fewer and fewer other vessels the further he went, and almost none were headed the same way. Every other conversation from the Horizon¡¯s crew had been something about how their super-vehicle was, ¡°the last sign of civilization up here.¡± The pilot who had delivered the Roller commented on how far he had come. And the non-specialized crew had just about shat their pants when they realized how much farther they had to go. So what did he expect? That there would be lush forests and thriving cities, or at least what was left of them? What lay in front of him was basically a worse version of the ocean: it didn¡¯t have waves or fish, just snow-covered land for as far as he could see.


    ¡°They won¡¯t like you.¡± Warra said, without looking in his direction. Eli¡¯s perception over his guide changed on an almost hourly basis. There were times when she imbued the spirit of a fearsome and wise woods-person, and other times when she behaved as obtusely as a petty child. He decided to play along.


    ¡°Why not?¡± He asked. Warra stood up and started walking along the roof. Eli held back so her scarf wouldn¡¯t blow in his face.


    ¡°They won¡¯t.¡± She said, like she was giving herself the last word.


    ¡°Who¡¯s ¡®they?¡± Eli asked.


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you.¡± Warra said. Eli grinned.


    ¡°How old were you?¡± He asked.


    This question made Warra turn and stare at him. He¡¯d done a good job of catching her off-guard. Judging from how her mouth was hanging open, he might have been the first person to have ever asked this question. He also had a feeling that he was the first person she had talked to in over a year.


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    ¡°When the Burnout hit. How old were you? Six? Four?¡± He asked again. Now she was looking at her surroundings like they had heard a wild animal or something. On second thought, she looked like a cornered deer.


    ¡°They¡ª¡± She tried to start.


    ¡°I know a feral child when I meet one.¡± Eli said. If he was right, her only social interactions were when she was selling pelts or agreeing to guide someone. And people would only ask her about where she was from, or what she could offer, but nothing about her. Eli could see her now, the real ¡°Warra¡±. A little child crawling through fields and sobbing to herself while the world burned around her. Everything about her was this awkward hybrid of grim survivalist and stunted innocent. He had seen this type before, but never someone who was nearly as remote as her.


    ¡°How was it? Spending your nights in hollowed trees, eating live mice, running at the first sign of artificial noise.¡± Eli said all of the things he imagined that she would have been forced to do. This was bordering on cruel. On closer inspection, it looked like the purple in her scarf was from old polyester fabrics¡ª maybe the clothes she was wearing when the world fell. Warra looked slightly less frightened now, like she was receiving some of Eli¡¯s compassion.


    ¡°I was fast. And quiet.¡± She said, with a hint of pride.


    ¡°But you weren¡¯t alone. A little kid, who couldn¡¯t even pronounce the ¡®L¡¯ in her name couldn¡¯t have survived the winters of what was then North Dakota without some help.¡± Eli said. He had suspected this much from the start. Warra wouldn¡¯t be a direct link to the phenomena, but she had been damn close with it. She stepped back as she realized that he was still trying to use her.


    ¡°You are cruel.¡± She said. Eli knew this. People always commented on his meanness once the interviews started. He just wanted to know things, and he didn¡¯t mind bluntness. For this kind of information, he would gladly do away with any niceties and interrogate her at knife-point. He had honestly thought about doing this, and then saying that she had killed herself or something. It wasn¡¯t like anyone would be looking for her. Unfortunately, Center-Brace had already done that and two suicides would look suspicious. And he couldn¡¯t say that she had tried to kill him. Everyone knew that it would take years of training, or a lot of drugs to match the sheer ferocity that these wild-people had in a fight. He was stuck trying to talk her story out of her.


    ¡°How did you get separated from your parents?¡± He asked. This might be interesting.


    ¡°They were talking about what was best. They were so afraid of what was coming, that they¡­¡± Warra said before choking up. In that moment, she might have gone all the way back to that fateful evening, or whenever, when she had overheard her parents talking about putting a knife through their daughter¡¯s throat while she slept. He had actually studied an order of child-killers for one of his assignments.


    ¡°They wanted to spare you from it.¡± He said. Now it sounded like he was trying to comfort her. It just felt natural to say something to try and put her at ease. It wasn¡¯t like she had ever taken the time to process this. But this wasn¡¯t his job. He was supposed to be investigating phenomena, not helping this adult feral get her shit together.


    ¡°The fires, and the guns, and the screams.¡± Warra said. Her eyes were now bloodshot, and there were bits of frozen mucus and saliva around her face. Eli watched his breath fogging the air instead of the breakdown in front of him. It wasn¡¯t like she would tell the crew what a cold bastard he was.


    ¡°So you ran off.¡± He said.


    ¡°I survived.¡±


    ¡°Have your friends ever told you why they helped you?¡± Eli questioned. If she would just say a little about this¡­ A little bit about anything specific would be helpful.


    ¡°I don¡¯t ask¡­ I never ask.¡± Warra said, shaking her head. She might have run off from her parents, but she understood loyalty. Maybe she was just crazy, but she definitely appeared to be indebted to something. Something must have helped her through the early years, taught her how to survive and hunt, and then start trading when things quieted down. A good mentor could have done that. But if she had been taught by someone, she would have named them already. There was phenomena here, and Warra was the best proof he¡¯d found. Maybe she¡¯d tell him something more useful in a later conversation. As of right now, he could climb back down if he wanted to talk to another brick wall. Who else was there that he hadn¡¯t chatted with?

 The Singing Road Part 6

    ¡°Hey, Hugo!¡± Eli shouted. The old laborer stood up from where he and his team had been crouched by the Roller¡¯s wheel. They were sliding metal sheets under the wheel so it would have traction for when they left. Apparently it saved time, however Eli had the feeling that Hugo was just trying to keep his crew busy. While Cone was a high-tier administrator in his clan, he rarely interacted with the common workers. That work fell to people like Hugo. Eli wasn¡¯t sure how the dynamic worked between the four crewmates, their boss, and one of their community¡¯s most valuable organizers. Varly, Splint, Beefcake, and Dedschik all followed Cone when he asked them to do something, but they looked to Hugo for everything else. While they would definitely be loyal to representatives of their clan, they put the most faith in whoever they had worked with the longest. On account of his age, Hugo was that person by default.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Hugo said as he jogged to the expedition¡¯s lead researcher. Jogged. This was the height of professionalism. Looking back, he might have been able to cut Cone out of this mission entirely.


    ¡°What¡¯s your experience with ruin-stripping?¡± Eli asked.


    ¡°I worked it for almost ten years before I moved to freight-handling.¡± Hugo replied. This was exactly what he needed.


    ¡°Alright, come with me.¡± He said as he started walking to the town¡¯s main street.


    ¡°What do you want me for?¡± Hugo asked, looking back to make sure his underlings were continuing to work. While he had been a bit of a prick during the meeting, Hugo had really come around. He was being consistently respectful, and almost servile.


    ¡°Blood-sacrifice.¡± Eli quipped to a face of stones and white hair. While the foreman definitely had a sense of humor, he must have left it onboard the Rusted Horizon. Eli looked forward to drinks with him when this was all over, if he made it.


    ¡°I need an expert¡¯s appraisal on this town. I did my share of stripping when I was a kid, but it¡¯s a different environment out East, everything rotted very quickly.¡± Eli said, hoping that a bit of technical jargon and a practical job would warm him back up. Hugo nodded.


    ¡°You¡¯re right about that. Our winters act as a good preservative for the wooden structures. The trouble is that the freezing shreds concrete.¡± Hugo said. Thankfully he wasn¡¯t the kind of old person who rambled about their jobs. That was also on the list of things that went wrong, because it killed so much time.


    ¡°A lot of the structures look intact.¡± Eli commented as they started walking past the buildings.


    ¡°They do¡­¡± Hugo said as he stopped in front of one of the buildings. Judging from the shards on the ground, the front wall had been mostly glass, with supporting pillars placed every 8 feet. And judging from how one of the pillars had been snapped off from its place, things hadn¡¯t been entirely peaceful in the area. Yet everything else appeared to be undisturbed by anything stronger or more deliberate than the elements. This was a remarkably well-preserved town¡ª there still was a town and not charred remnants buried under sediment. Eli¡¯s parents had broken into tears when they saw what had become of their village after they left it for the hills. All across the country, he had heard the cry of ¡°There¡¯s nothing left!¡±. But the people who lived here could resume their lives after some minor renovations¡­ if any of them were still alive after all these years.


    ¡°Looked like a store of some kind, someone might have driven their car through this wall.¡± Eli said as he walked into the opening. Inside were the merchandise racks found in stores. Most of the items were so rusted that he couldn¡¯t tell what they had sold. It didn¡¯t help that the setting sun made everything look black, and like there was something waiting for them in each corner. Hugo was squatting by an intact portion of the half-wall that ran beneath the panes of glass. Things like this bugged him. The world before the Burnout had resources out the ass, so why couldn¡¯t they have just used panes that went from the ground to the ceiling? The half-wall looked stupid. Maybe the people back then found it aesthetically pleasing.


    ¡°I thought so too¡­ but this lower barrier was made of wood, and it¡¯s not likely that one of their cars would¡¯ve just hopped it.¡± Hugo said as he stood up to look for another piece of evidence. The stick up his ass wasn¡¯t stopping him from being diligent. Eli stooped over the half-wall. The little barrier had been full of wood, but most of it had rotted out, leaving this shell of paint and other things that Eli didn¡¯t have a word for. Hugo was right to say that it wouldn¡¯t have withstood a car even in its prime. The old man was in the back of the shop looking down at something on the floor.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Eli asked.


    ¡°A mounted sign.¡± He said. No shit. There wasn¡¯t much of it left besides a circle-shaped plateau of rust with the remnants of several bulbs sticking out from it. Even after this much time, a few of those bulbs should have still been intact. He had even seen some fluorescent tubes that were still somewhat operational. He walked over for a closer look; Hugo pointed to the remaining text. The few patches of red lettering weren¡¯t legible anymore, however, this looked like something that would be mounted on the outside of a structure.


    ¡°How bad do the winds get up here?¡± Eli asked.


    ¡°Your guess is as good as mine.¡± Hugo said. Eli didn¡¯t know why he had asked that. Of course Hugo wouldn¡¯t know anything about the meteorological conditions near the Singing Road. And that sign looked like it had been sitting for at least 30 years, perhaps even longer. It could have been blown through the wall during the early days of the Burnout, when the weather could have done just about anything. One of the phenomena he researched had viewed a series of fire-tornadoes as divine proof that they should start marauding through the remnants of southern Missouri.


    ¡°Think it could have come from that?¡± Eli interrupted his own reminiscing of that expedition by pointing to a motel across the road. There wasn¡¯t anything else on the street that would have needed a flashy sign like the one in the store.


    ¡°Would have required one hell of a gust.¡± Hugo said as he traced a line of flight with his pointer. The angle seemed rational, but the sign would have had to have traveled over 40 feet, with enough force to go through a sheet of glass. He felt uneasy about this.


    ¡°Or something stronger.¡± He said.


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    ¡°Blastwave?¡± Hugo wondered. Those things had produced all manner of absurd arrangements for the stripping industry. He had no doubt that Hugo might regale him with stories of pulling cars from third-floor offices, or trying to assemble skeletons that had been scattered across 60 foot areas. If there really were supernatural forces present during the end of the world, the blastwave would be the closest thing.


    ¡°Hard to say.¡± Eli answered as he realized that nothing in the area looked blown-up. There hadn¡¯t even been fires here. And the only roof that was collapsed had obviously been a result of heavy snowfall and weak architecture. The blast would have to had come from further away, maybe if he asked for a sweep he¡¯d find the blackened remains of a fuel truck or someone¡¯s septic tank. Maybe this had been from¡­


    ¡°Huh, we got a laundromat.¡± Hugo said to himself. While Eli had been pondering the travels of a certain mounted sign, the laborer had walked down the street to the front of another establishment.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Eli asked as he walked over. The road was still a mostly continuos surface. Winter had killed off all of the small plants and covered everything in snow, yet he could tell that there was something more solid than dirt under his boots. He also saw a few saplings poking up in the middle of the street, which meant it was only a matter of time before their roots destroyed the asphalt. With what was left of the old world, everything was a matter of time.


    ¡°The laundry machines are still here.¡± Eli pointed to the lines of metal cabinets that lay beyond another shattered wall of glass. They started walking into the building. While Eli stepped through the glass remains, mindful to make sure nothing fell from its place and stabbed him, Hugo opted for the door-frame, which had once housed a door made of glass. The hinges screamed as they were forced open for the first time in years. Hugo could have just stepped through the frame. At least they knew that no one else had been here recently.


    ¡°This place never had anything past the first wave of stripping.¡± Hugo said like he was making some academic deduction.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t heard of that model before.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s still a lot of debate on each wave¡­ but what you need to know is that the first ever ruin-strippers were just looters.¡± Hugo said. Eli had never thought of it that way before. It was a uncomfortable evolution to imagine. The looters had been animals ravaging the places they had once lived and worked in the hopes that they might survive long enough to burn through another locale. Their descendants were somber and thorough workers, who picked apart ruins for profit and a more stable future. But no one did that work unless they wanted to. Eli¡¯s family and everyone else in his community said that they found it soothing to help put the tortured relics to good use. At one point they had also been looters. His ¡°uncle¡± had told the story about how he killed a woman with a loaded shopping cart as he was fleeing his condominium.


    ¡°So the first wave was everything that wasn¡¯t nailed down: Packaged food, currency that might still be usable, clothing, vehicles, weapons. Everything a looter could want.¡± Eli said.


    ¡°But here, it doesn¡¯t seem like anyone came back for the other things. Each of these machines contains a decently powerful motor, and they¡¯re relatively easy to move. This is almost as good as a restaurant.¡± Hugo said. He was frowning as he thought about all of the materials here that had gone to waste. Eli had no illusions about what this man had been forced to do after the Burnout.


    ¡°Any thoughts on how the looting went?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Hold on.¡± Hugo said as he pulled a multi-tool from his belt. At one point it had been a wrench, but the butt-end had been filed into a chisel shape, and there was a pick welded to the side of one of the pincers. Eli could make out a set of notches near the chisel. Hugo could probably still kill people with that thing. Right now, he was using it as a crowbar to force open a compartment under one of the machines. After grunting in exertion, the cover came loose metal coins flooded out.


    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of currency.¡± Eli said as a pile formed on the floor.


    ¡°It¡¯s not the most valuable form of old currency¡­ but it¡¯s still plenty strange. If I was the owner of this laundromat, and I knew that the world was coming to an end, I would have emptied and stashed my income on a nightly basis. It¡¯s been 40 years, but I know there¡¯s no way that¡¯s just one day of business.¡± Hugo said as he looked down at the mass on the floor. Now he was grimacing worse than when Eli had told some of his jokes during the orientation meeting. There was something fucked up here, and Hugo was beginning to see it plainly.


    ¡°How old were you?¡± Eli asked.


    ¡°I turned 30 in the fall of 2030.¡± Hugo said. He had definitely rehearsed that line many times before. He might have been saying it since that year.


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s lucky.¡±


    ¡°You got a fucked up sense of luck.¡± Hugo replied as he walked back into the street. He really wasn¡¯t good at talking with older people. No one was, everyone that this age-group was comfortable with was dead.


    ¡°What do you reckon we¡¯ll find in the other structures?¡± Eli asked when he caught up to Hugo.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try and find something residential next. If we were here¡­ 25 years ago, I think there would be a clearer picture of what happened.¡± Hugo said without even looking at him. The setting sun made him look far older and tired than he actually was. The solar red made his wrinkled and tan skin look like rust.


    ¡°There doesn¡¯t look like there was much violence.¡± Eli said


    ¡°I know for a fact that this isn¡¯t one of those towns that was completely abandoned before the Burnout. There¡¯s still parked vehicles, and¡­¡± Hugo bit his lip, and he was breathing heavier.


    ¡°What do you feel happened?¡±


    ¡°People were living here, pretty close to the end¡ª but they left in a hurry. Like something happened that forced them to leave. They decided to forsake this place.¡± Hugo said. That sounded like a retreat into the same dogma he had spouted when he found Center-Brace¡¯s frozen corpse. At least he had some kind of a faith to retreat to. Eli only had his academia and cutting wit.


    ¡°Do you consider yourself to be unreasonably superstitious?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m cautious.¡± Hugo said in an unexpected show of self-awareness. But he was still bitter, and afraid of what was here.


    ¡°Caution and superstition are two very different realms.¡± Eli said. The old laborer looked at him. And thought for a moment.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen things, and¡­ there have been events in my life that I¡¯ve never been able to explain.¡± He said. This much was true. Another Formers, this one with a chip, had calculated that people like Hugo were more likely to win a pre-Burnout lottery, than to survive for as long as they had. The person before him had been one of the few to escape the burning cities and mind-breaking slaughter. All of this while keeping his own sanity and morals. Hugo was one of millions.


    ¡°Let me ask you this. If there are miracles, then isn¡¯t there the possibility for something darker?¡± He asked with all of the wisdom he had absorbed in his long and agonizing life.


    ¡°Do you think part of it¡¯s here?¡± Eli asked. Almost immediately, he knew he should have waited¡­ or found a way to not sound like an asshat. As impatient as he was, someone like Hugo deserved his respect. And now the old man was glowering at him.


    ¡°I think that people like you have no true reverence.¡± He said as he left to join his crew. Eli was used to pissing people off, and being numb to their responses. For the first time in several years, he was fucking hurt by this kind of rejection. It wasn¡¯t like he had wanted Hugo to like him or something, but¡­ not this.


    The sun had almost disappeared from the horizon. Soon it would be dark out, and Eli would have something more entertaining to research than that various oddities and relics that surrounded him.

 The Singing Road Part 7

    Eli could have sworn that Cone had been close to tears when he found that there wouldn¡¯t be a security perimeter. The merchant¡¯s face was redder than the undercooked deer meat that they were eating, and he was sweating like a pig about to be slaughtered. Eli honestly couldn¡¯t remember if he had felt his family¡¯s pigs sweating before they were butchered. They had made a lot of noise, he knew that. Cone had been doing his fair share of squealing about how they needed some kind of a barrier between their camp and the wilderness. He said that there had to be at least two people watching their surroundings, and early-warning systems deployed in a 500-foot radius around the Roller. Beefcake had said that plan would work, if he was one of the two people on first watch. Warra had also pointed out they couldn''t exactly string tripwires on the open planes. Cone had looked around and realized that he wasn¡¯t in the wooded terrain of the Ozarks that he had spent most of his life in.


    Almost all of Cone¡¯s usefulness had been in making this venture possible. Scratch that: almost all of Cone¡¯s usefulness had been in making this venture convenient for Eli. It was definitely within his ability, and the order he represented, to make the necessary arrangements and recruit the necessary people. He had recruited their guide and ¡°security officer¡±. Cone freed him up to conduct extra research over the summer, and provided a layer of insulation between him and the five laborers. He had also done all of the liaising with the Guild to let them give the team one of the Rollers, and launch from Rusted Horizon. He still wasn¡¯t sure how much of that had been Cone using his own skill, and whatever reputation a prominent silicone merchant had, or him saying that this was for a Formers-sponsored expedition. Maybe there had just been a lot of people who wanted him to die on the Singing Road, in comfort.


    Cone still had a good deal of comfort on this journey. He was considered a second-in-command, which was more than what his own clan viewed him as. Him and Pontius also shared the pilot¡¯s enclosure and its two relatively soft bunks. The enclosure was originally designed for two pilots to take shifts so the Roller could be driven continuously, however it also worked for one pilot and his buddy. Since Hugo and his team did all of the camp-making and maintenance, Cone was also free to spend his days admiring the planes, working through some of his own ledgers, and finding innovative ways to be paranoid. By virtue of being older and traveling for his work, Cone had his own wealth of knowledge on all of the horrors that befell those who trifled with the Singing Road or its odd mechanics. And he had been using that knowledge to a comical extent with his bitching about the need for a perimeter.


    He must have said ¡°the things come at night!¡± at least four times. This was true. The only times that the phenomena were encountered during waking hours was when the victims went into poorly lit areas, namely ruins, or there was some weather event that obscured visibility, like a blizzard. The ¡°things¡± did not want to be seen until it was too late. What Cone probably didn¡¯t know was that his whole notion of setting up a watch was more futile than trying to string tripwires on flat ground. Eli had been able to personally inspect the site of an attack while the bodies were still fresh. The captain of the doomed strider had been eviscerated as 30 of her crewmates stood on watch. One of the people with Eli, who had trained under a forensic specialist, estimated that the captain had been dead for almost six hours before the rest of the crew followed. She was in her vessel¡¯s heavily armored storage-room, Cone slept in a metal and glass box; if someone had supplicated against him, he was already dead. Was that why he had been so eager to waste that person on the raft?


    The only good thing to come of Cone¡¯s blubbering about the need for better security, besides Eli¡¯s amusement, had been everyone else¡¯s. They hadn¡¯t even gone through half of a beer-keg, and the crew was roaring with laughter¡ª At Cone. In-between taking bets on who would be eaten first, Beefcake had been trying to convince Cone that he saw something moving in the distance. D.Q. had been kind enough to tell the crew how much firepower Cone had originally requested for the trip. She had almost let it slide that there had been no vague recompensation deal, and that she was only part of the team because Cone wanted a gun on board. There were other matters between her and Eli, but those wouldn¡¯t be brought up at dinner. Hugo had come close to choking on his meat when D.Q. said Cone had asked her if her squad could mount two of their heavy MGs on the Roller, because he wanted ¡°redundancy¡±. Beefcake had been too drunk to properly execute a joke about how that applied to Cone¡¯s weight, or something. Eli knew damn well that there wouldn¡¯t be half as much mirth if they were anywhere else in America. Cone was the only person who was being vocal about his fears, and everyone was jumping at the opportunity to prove that they weren¡¯t afraid. Eli had also forseen this potential use for the merchant.


    In the end, Cone had skulked back to his lodgings on the side of the Roller, with a hatchet slung across his back while the rest of the crew piled into their tent. Warra was nowhere to be seen. The awkward hunter must have found somewhere in the town to put her sleeping-bag after she finished with the carcass. Various chunks of deer now hung from a wire that ran from one of the ship¡¯s railings to the tent. Although they had more than enough provisions from the Horizon, the crew had been excited at the prospect of salted venison. Eli personally wanted to see what would happen if a wolf stopped by the camp, along with other potential visitors. The actual ¡°camp¡± was a cluster of bags and crates that had been deposited in the snow to make seats around the stove that D.Q. had brought. Apparently the device was a refitted version of the flamethrowers that the Regime used for defense, before they started manufacturing more advanced weapons. It ran off of the methanol fuel cannisters that she had packed. At its highest setting, the stove could produce a pillar of flame that was over four feet tall, and very good for interrogating hostages as D.Q. had explained.


    The Roller itself was parked near the start of the town¡¯s mainstreet, as close as Pontius could drive it without running over something. Eli could see the entirety of the pitiful settlement as he stood above the hatch. Apart from the sky, the only light for miles around came from a lantern in the pilot¡¯s enclosure and a little twinkle from one of the outlying buildings. That was most likely a bit of glass reflecting off of the Roller. But everything was quiet, and the clouds were rolling in. This was a calm night, and when they woke up, everything would be covered in a layer of snow. He would have stood and admired the scenery for a while if he didn¡¯t have to piss so badly. Beer did that, scotch didn¡¯t. He should have drunken his scotch. He honestly thought about pissing off the bow: he could make quite an impressive arc. Unfortunately, it was too early in the expedition for him to not play by the rules. Eli made an effort to climb down without waking up Cone or Pontius, and set out in search of an unassuming wall or tree.


    ¡°Pssst¡± He heard someone say¡­ to his left, and at an elevation. Someone was sitting atop one of the buildings and waving at him. The rope ladder dangled from the roof of a pharmacy and general store. Eli walked over and looked up. Above him he saw the twinkling eyes and prosthetic teeth of the expedition¡¯s gunner.


    ¡°Hey, Eli! I have a little treat for you.¡± She said before pulling back. Sex? There was always a non-zero chance for sex. He thought about his odds before climbing up. What was something flirtatious to say? He could get some mileage out of her name, and how she was a ¡°queen¡±.


    ¡°Good evening, my lady.¡± He said after heaving himself to the lip of the roof. D.Q. was sitting cross-legged next to a mounted telescope. Judging from how there was a blanket under her, and several piled up next to her, this was where she planned to spend the night. If he played his cards right, he could spend it with her. That was a big ¡°if¡±. And he wasn¡¯t yet sure if he wanted to. Sex was on the list of things that could go wrong. It made people clingy to him. Worse still, it distracted him when something happened to them.


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    ¡°Take a peek.¡± She said, holding the shaft of the telescope to him. Now if only he could get her to hold his¡ª He needed to stop. This was why he should have tried to sleep with someone on the Rusted Horizon. It was shaping up to be a long three days, or however long they had left. But what was she trying to show him up here, if not something on her person. Was there the remains of a strip-club? An especially phallic ruin?


    ¡°Only the best for the lead researcher¡­¡± He sighed as D.Q. aimed the scope at the source of the faraway light. Part of him knew from the start that it wouldn¡¯t be just sex or an emotionally fraught conversation up here.


    ¡°You¡¯re the only researcher.¡± She reminded him. Eli pulled back from the eye-piece and looked at her.


    ¡°Do you want me to research this?¡± He asked. She nodded enthusiastically.


    ¡°Yeah, I want to see your process.¡±


    ¡°Deal, but then you got to give me your¡­ tactical observations.¡± Eli said before returning to the scope. This could still be a kind of flirtation.


    ¡°How are the two specimens?¡± She asked as he felt her arm wrap around his torso. This was happening. This was really happening. This was really what she found to be intimate.


    ¡°Well, my records indicate that the male is ¡®Beefcake¡¯ and the female is ¡®Splint.¡± He said. And now he was starting to have some fun playing along with this.


    ¡°Uh-huh, and what are they doing¡­ sir?¡± She asked. D.Q. was now close enough for Eli to smell her breath.


    ¡°The subjects have discarded their clothing, and appear to be mating¡­ however, this is unlike previous couplings that I have observed, as Splints hands are tied with a rope that is looped around an exposed structural beam.¡± He remarked.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there a special term for that?¡± She asked. Right now, Eli wanted nothing more than to look up and see what her face was like. What would he see? A darker version of Warra, that had been forced to sever all of her empathy and compassion? Had she been born this twisted and detached? Or was she something like him? Whatever the cause, the result was a shell of violence and sadistic amusement who reeked of spirits and propellants. This was fun. He felt safe with someone who gave so little fucks.


    ¡°What we are witnessing either belongs to the sub-category of ¡®incredibly kinky¡¯, or ¡®rape.¡± He said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been watching them for about 10 minutes, I can confirm they are engaged in the latter¡ª sir.¡± She said. He had no doubt that she had probably stood on this roof and watched as Beefcake had dragged an inebriated and gagged Splint over to the remote building, and just smiled at the night¡¯s entertainment.


    ¡°And I can also confirm that you are a depraved piece of shit¡ª my lady.¡± He said as he looked back at her.


    ¡°What are you going to do about this?¡± She asked, pointing at the scene in the distance.


    ¡°If I had something bigger than that ax he has next to him, I¡¯d attempt something heroic.¡± Eli said. This was plain flirting: none of it meant anything, but it conveyed the right emotions, or lack of.


    ¡°Well, I have something that¡¯s sure to make you a little bolder.¡± D.Q. said as she grabbed his wrist. Eli smiled blithely as his hand was pulled towards her chest, across her left breast, and onto the grip of a pistol on a side-holster. All the while she was smiling like his hand was still on her boob.


    ¡°You are full of surprises, my lady.¡±


    ¡°Why, thank you.¡± She said as Eli withdrew the weapon and held it up for inspection. Somehow, the gunner had come across the Regime equivalent of an heirloom. This was one of the Divining Rods, the first ever weapon to utilize their liquid-propelled rounds. Less than ten of them had been forged, and Eli had only heard tales of their crudeness.


    ¡°Just squeeze the handle to fire, right?¡± He asked, as he pointed the weapon at her. She reclined against her pile of blankets. Already he could feel his arm starting to fatigue under the weight.


    ¡°It¡¯s the same kind that the Demigod uses for his executions.¡± She said. Eli felt patronized. He also knew that there wasn¡¯t anything resembling a skull left on the condemned afterwards. It had been over a year since he¡¯d handled any kind of device like this, and now he wanted to go use it.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m going to go try to be a hero¡­¡± He announced before checking the telescope again. It wasn¡¯t even a real telescope, she had just taken the scope off of a mounted gun. Eli put Beefcake¡¯s head in the middle of the crosshairs, just for the look of it. Maybe he would kill him tonight. But how to go about it? He was conducting his business in a slightly collapsed house that was 400 yards from the main street, and the cover it provided. Eli would have to approach from a flanking angle. He already saw beefcake checking his rear every few seconds as he was grinding away on Splint. There was a house next to them, he could wait in that until Beefcake started going back to camp. And what was that on the roof¡­


    Something looked at him


    Eli fell back onto the blanket under him and let out a puff of foggy breath. This was going to be his best expedition yet, by far.


    ¡°What is it?¡± D.Q. asked, slightly concerned.


    ¡°See for yourself.¡± He said. She obliged. He must have knocked the telescope out of focus on his way down, because she took a few moments to find it. When she did, she shuddered and collapsed next to him.


    ¡°Oh wow¡­ Wow.¡± She said, like they had just finished fucking.


    ¡°Now that is a phenomena.¡± Eli said.


    ¡°Those eyes¡­¡± He had thought an owl at first, but they were so gray that they looked more like a subterranean fish of some kind. But the rest of the phenomena was still avian in structure. And it was perched on the roof.


    ¡°It looked right at us, like full eye-contact.¡± He was ruining the moment with these observations, and he knew it. He just had to remember enough for a detailed entry.


    ¡°What did you see?¡± She asked. He closed his eyes and saw a glimpse of it again.


    ¡°A line of fire¡­ almost a hundred feet in the air, stretching as far as I could see.¡± He said. There were flashes of another scene, but this one struck him the most.


    ¡°Not stretching¡ª walking.¡± She added.


    ¡°Did you see the cars?¡±


    ¡°They were new.¡± They had been. He had seen the coats of paint reflecting the flames.


    ¡°This is significant.¡±


    ¡°What was it?¡± She asked him with genuine curiosity, but no fear whatsoever.


    ¡°I think we both had a visions of Interstate 94 being carpet-bombed.¡±


    ¡°The fuck is¡ª?¡±


    ¡°The Singing Road¡­ It became the Singing Road.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°It was never just a myth.¡± Eli said, as he stood up and looked across the frozen expanse, and whatever the fuck was out there.


    ¡°This place has been cursed since the Burnout.¡± D.Q. propped herself up on her arm and grabbed the barrel of the Divining Rod she¡¯d given him. It was a small miracle that he hadn¡¯t accidentally set it off.


    ¡°Are you still going to be a hero?¡± She asked. Eli passed the gun back to her.


    ¡°If any of my research is accurate, that thing on the roof will settle matters.¡± He said as he stepped back to the ladder. D.Q. sat up and frowned at him


    ¡°Off to sleep? Really?¡±


    ¡°I need to keep my mind sharp for the next¡­ For what¡¯s coming. I need to record as much of this as possible.¡± He explained.


    ¡°Record¡­hmph.¡± She said, like he was lying.


    ¡°It¡¯s my job.¡± Eli said as he started climbing down.


    ¡°Do you know the only thing worse than having nothing to hold onto?¡± She asked when only his head remained above the roofline. He shrugged, she may not have seen the gesture.


    ¡°Pretending to hold onto something.¡± She said.


    As he walked back to the Roller and the assortment of doomed fools within, Eli thought hard about what separated him from someone like D.Q. By joining the Regime, she had basically declared that she had nothing left to live for except bloodlust and thrill-seeking. Currently, Eli held a more cultured version of that ideology. He wanted novel experiences, and¡­ a kind of demented exclusivity to them. Other people would accomplish more in their lives, and their memories would persist for longer than the un-chipped Formers. But the things he had witnessed were his alone, and he had seen far more than anyone else could imagine. He had his lists of all the phenomena he had encountered, and all the things that had gone wrong. All that was left in his life was to keep adding to them.