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Escape From Rust

Weapons break. Tanks can be grounded. Planes can crash. All out of our control.

Morale can only falter when you let it.

-King Lothar of Lupus

The lion was finished with me.

I didn’t want to look at his face. I looked to the side.

The raven haired girl was there and another lion was on top of her.

I looked to the other side.

A cement wall.

I couldn’t escape.

I couldn’t escape.

I slept no longer.

My eyes opened into a world of darkness and so I shut them again. It made no difference and I had no idea to what extent the Lupiad’s night-vision reached. I kept my breathing light and controlled until I heard at least three different rumbling snores around me.

The room was hot and heavy with musk. It was as constraining as the ropes biding my wrists to my legs behind my back. Gritting my teeth, I lightly jostled at the binds, careful not to make any loud noise, but it was no use, they were too tight.

Metal clattering on wood rang out in the back of my memories. The knife, I dropped it, but did they pick it up? I didn’t remember. I didn’t remember what they did when they were taking me.

I had to get my bearings. I was placed on the ground face-down, but one of the last things I saw was the door. I dropped the knife on my right, by the wall. A smart person would have picked up that knife, but these nasty wolves were distracted, too busy toying with their prey.

It was worth a shot. If I failed, what could they do to me that was worse than what they’ve already done? And I had to try, for Yaleen’s sake. I didn’t know how serious Lazsh was about his threat, but I couldn’t write it off as an attempt at Lacertan humor, I couldn’t take that risk.

Holding my breath, I rocked myself on my chest, wavering to the right. I tried to soften the blow, but without any hands or legs free, this was an impossible task and I landed on my side with a thump.

A sharp snort nearly caused me to jump. One of the Lupiads was stirring. I laid still, not even daring to breathe until the old chorus of snores began once again.

It’s hard to describe the maneuver I used to move. Shrugging would be a good word, shrugging my shoulders to pull myself along the rough, wood floor. It was slow-going, my shoulder was getting scraped and splintered, and I had to stop for fear of making too much noise, but I was making progress.

Hot air gusted across the back of my neck, followed by the scent of cheap beer and meat. I froze. A fourth Lupiad was there and this one was a silent sleeper. I couldn’t have been more than a few inches away from his face, more than close enough for him to see or smell me if he was awake, his tall ears were probably pointed directly at me as well.

Still, I could not stop. If I stopped now, the Lupiad would probably think I was trying to cozy up to him and that was the last thing I needed. I shuffled back a bit, then continued worming my way right, until I brushed up against the wall.

My butt felt something small, loose and sharp. This was it! I shuffled down a bit until my hands lined up with it, I felt the edge of my blade, running my hands down it until I could wrap it around the taped grip. Inhaling, I lifted it up, careful not to let the blade or grip tap against the wall.

It was hard to line up the blade with the ropes, but I managed to do it, cutting away at the tight fibers gradually. I nearly dropped the knife a few times and had to stop when I heard one of the Lupiads stirring, but I was doing it. I knew my luck was starting to turn when I felt the first loop of the bindings fall limp..

Eventually, they were loosed up enough so that I could slip one hand free. The rest of the job was almost pathetic in comparison.

My wrists were tender and sore, it was something you only notice after you’re freed.

I went still, taking a moment to think. I wanted to slit their throats while they slept. I wanted the last thing they’d see to be my face. But there was no way I could kill them all, this wasn’t a video-game or a movie, you can’t silently kill four Lupiads in a row, not without alerting one of them after the first or second kill. They’d already overpowered me once and I was not in good condition.

They had my Beretta, my rifle, and whatever remained of my clothes. There was no chance of getting them back, even if I could see in the dark. No, I had to get out of there.

Carefully, I lifted myself to my feet and slowly padded to the door, heel to toe to muffle my steps. Groping blindly in the dark, I ran my hands across the rough wood and then finally found the door handle, which was equally rough due to rust.

Of course it was rusty. This fucking town…

The handle didn’t even move a fraction of an inch before it let loose a high-pitched squeak.

Barks of alarm screamed out, sending fear shooting down my spine. I slammed the handle down and threw the door open, bolting out and to the right, illuminated by the sole window in the hallway that let a small trickle of moonlight in.

The bar was empty, except for a Sirian bouncer that was built like a freight train and had an ugly, white face, like a pit-bull, who was awoken by the clamor with a fierce growl directed at me. Without waiting to ask questions, he jumped from his chair and joined the chase. Somehow I don’t think he’d be on my side if I stopped and tried to explain the situation. Chances are, he’d be on his Lupiad cousin’s side and if he had any hesitation, they’d probably offer my ass to him in exchange for him ruling in their favor.

Yes, this meant I was justified hurling a bar stool at him, which shattered into several chunks of wood after it smashed against his chest, knocking him to the ground. I kicked over several tables and chairs as I stormed towards the exit, catching a brief glimpse of a massive, white furball rounding the hallway leading to the rooms before I left.

The night air was sharp and cold. My skin pimpled up and my breath became gray. The dirt road was moist as my bare feet slapped against it as I ran from the bar, turning to the right into an alley-way. Behind me, I heard a door slam open and a litany of Lupiad curses that were growing closer and closer.

I seethed as a stabbing pain broke out in my right foot. I didn’t have time to see what I stepped on or how bad it was, let along think about when my last tetanus shot was. I took a left into another alley, slamming into something solid.

Two eyes stared down at me, glowing blue in the moonlight, above a muzzle that was as black as night. A cherry red cigarette tip lit up, illuminating the now-familiar Lupiad and he exhaled smoke that was as gray his pelt underneath his green uniform.

“Pawel? What are…?” Dondrae tilted his head at me like a dog.

“They’re after me! Your…!” I gasped in a panic. He seemed like a decent person earlier, but he was a member of that Lupiad pack and he only knew me for a short period. There was no way he’d take my side over his friends, I wouldn’t if I were him.

Good thing he wasn’t me.

“Say no more,” he spat his cigarette onto the dirt, stomping it out with his boot. Wrapped his paws around my shoulders, he lifted me onto his shoulders and I saw his automatic rifle hanging on his back from a strap wrapped around his chest. “There’s a ledge up there!”

My hands found a shingled, sloping roof. It was difficult getting a grip, but I managed to pull myself onto it after I put the blade of my dagger between my teeth, wincing as my injured foot touched the surface. Immediately, I saw there was a second story to this building and just a few feet away, the roof sloped down at a sharp enough angle that I could reach up and grab it.

“Hey! Pull me up!” Dondrae whispered harshly. I could hear the barks and growls of his comrades off in the distance. “You think I want them to find me with your scent on me!?”

Laying on my belly, I lowered my arm. The Lupiad-Sirian hybrid grabbed it with my paw and I pulled. He was heavier than most humans, but I was able to boost him up and he crawled over me, hand claws clicking on the shingles as he raised himself.

“Come on!”

He scrambled onto the sloping roof, claws clacking as he rushed up the side of it. Who said dogs couldn’t climb?

I followed him close behind. Dondrae vanished after scaling the roof, except for his black-tipped tail which trailed over the side of the roof, letting me know that he was still there and waiting. I was careful not to pull on it as I scaled the steepest part of the roof, falling against Dondrae who grabbed me tightly against his strong chest. I let the knife slip out of my teeth and Dondrae gently put it aside.

We were in a small, flat area of the roof surrounded by the top tips of the sloped sections. Beneath us, the city was still and dark, save for the occasional flashlight beam piercing the alleyways, my pursuers.

“Are you okay?” Dondrae whispered, his wet nose brushing against my cheek.

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

His paw pads rubbed against my shoulder gently, trying to comfort me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, pursing my lips. “Thank you.”

“No need. Felt like doing the right thing,” Dondrae’s arms tightened around me. “Not the first time they’ve done this. Getting tired of it.”

I shivered. It was damned cold right now. Dondrae noticed, unstrapped his rifle, placing it carefully on the ground and undid his fatigues, taking them off and wrapping them around my shoulder. He then followed with his arms once again, putting the palm of his paw against the back of my head and gently pressing my face into his gray and white chest fur. His scent smelled strongly of earth, like freshly picked mushrooms, and cedarwood. It was comforting and I quickly found myself drifting off to sleep, despite the danger I had just been through, the danger I was still in.

I woke up.

The raven-haired girl’s arms were around me.

I got up.

We were safe.

We survived.

But…

I turned on the TV.

The lion was there.

The one who was on top of me.

He was a hero.

(All decked out in military honors.)

He liberated Europe from humanity.

(His face beaming with arrogant pride.)

He was a hero.

Of course,

The raven-haired girl saw me crying.

The first rays of sunlight broke through my eyelids, easing me back into the world of the living. I was still in the warm, furry embrace of the Lupiad-Sirian, who was now snoring intensely, his mouth hanging open with his tongue lolling out onto my shoulder. A trail of drool was running down my chest, but after everything Dondrae did for me last night, it was a small price to pay. Besides, he looked kind of cute, in a crude sort of way.

A sting of pain ached in my foot. Looking down, I saw that a bandage was wrapped around it. Dondrae must have tended to it after I fell asleep, hopefully with something more antiseptic than his tongue.

The rest of me was sore as well. My legs were aching from my desperate flight and my back was even worse, due to obvious reasons that I’m not going to focus on.

Instead, my still-muddled mind focused on a red-furred Vulpeculan. Yaleen! I had to get out of Rust before the end of the day! I didn’t hear my pursuers below, granted at this point the town was full with the rumbling of countless aliens and the Lupiads could be among them.

“Hey.”

I pushed against Dondrae’s chest and he snorted, licking his lips as he groggily awoke.

“Rest, Pawel,” he muttered, nuzzling against my cheek. “Bad dream?”

“Yeah, but...”

“If it helps, I had a great dream,” Dondrae’s nose pressed against my cheek firmly. “I was a King...”

I interrupted, “No, I have to get out of here. Someone’s waiting for me.”

“They can wait,” his paw reached under the fatigue blanket and against my back, pads massaging firmly.

“No, she can’t.”

“Yes, he...” he paused and I realized my mistake. His blue eyes suddenly opened wide and was staring down at me from the end of his muzzle. “She? You’re not traveling with that Vulpeculan, are you?”

Once again, I forgot just how widespread Yaleen’s bounty was. I should have lied. Made up a lame excuse or something, but I couldn’t, not to him, not after what he did.

“You left her alone? Here?”

“Not alone. I left her with a Lacertan friend I’m traveling with but uh, long story short, I need to meet up with them before the end of the day or else he might kill her.”

Despite the oddity of everything I just said, Dondrae didn’t miss a beat, “Sounds like a pretty shitty friend you have there.”

“Yeah, that’s why I gotta move.”

“Alright,” the Lupiad grunted, course fur chafing against me as he slid out from under me. With a rattle, he pulled up his rifle, wrapping the strap of it across his bare, gray and white chest.

Sensing hesitation, he pulled the jacket I was using as a blanket around me and buttoned it up. It was several sizes too big and was loose enough for the wind to blow through freely, but it stretched far enough below that it would cover up my shame.

We were about to begin climbing down when doubt filled my heart. I had come to trust this Lupiad in very short order and that was because I had no other choice. I had a choice to trust some drunken Lupiads earlier and it backfired badly, they wanted something else, several things. What about Dondrae?

My doubts were broken when a wet tongue suddenly slapped against my cheek and slowly stroked up. Dondrae whined, pressing his equally wet nose against my face.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It happens here,” I shrugged, peering down the side of the roof at the streets below. People were walking from place to place, but I didn’t see any of Dondrae’s friends, not that I’d have much hope of recognizing them from afar. “You just have to try and forget about it, you know?”

Dondrae nodded sadly.

It was easier climbing down than it was ascending. I hissed as I landed on the dirt, my foot still aching from the cut last night. Dondrae landed with a heavy thud behind me. He offered to carry me and, although I was tempted to have his strong arms take care of me, I refused. If we needed to hide, it was far easier to do so with us both on our feet.

Though it turned out we didn’t need to hide. We got a few stares from aliens wondering why I was wearing nothing but a Lupiad-sized military jacket, but nothing more. Still, we didn’t let down our guard for a second.

Soon we were back at Dalg’s place. The door was open and we darted inside, shutting it behind us. Dalg was behind the counter, the Alsatian-esque Sirian tilting his head and staring at us with confused, brown eyes.

“What happened to you?”

Ignoring the question, I stepped towards the counter, eyes darting from side to side, “Is the truck ready?”

“Yes, but...” Dalg was flustered, downright irritated. Granted, we were a shirtless Lupiad-Sirian hybrid and a human wearing nothing but the mutt’s oversized jacket, but it was still a surprise to see someone so unflappable have so little to say.

Sighing, I leaned against the counter. Breathing in and out, I moved onto the most important subject, “I’ll take a pistol, ammo, and a holster. You have any human models?”

Dalg retrieved a plastic container from beneath the counter and thumped it on the surface. Reaching under the rim of the lid with his claws, he opened it up and withdrew a black, polymer pistol.

“Will this do?” Dalg asked as he handed the pistol to me. It was a Glock 17, chambered in 9mm, and it felt like it belonged in my hand. Just what I wanted. I fastened a leather holster around my hip and secured the gun in it.

We agreed on the price and I went to the garage, Dalg trailing behind expecting his payment. The garage was shockingly orderly and clean, much like the merchandise in the shop, all the tools were stored in air-tight plastic containers to prevent the town’s air from damaging them. Some fluids of various colors stained the floor.

And centered in the middle of it all was my good, old Hauler; still just as dirty tan as it always had been. A few bullet-holes marked the door and the quarter-panels.

“I thought you said this was ready!?” I snapped at Dalg, whose ears folded back though did not reveal his fangs.

“The engine is working but the frame...”

“Kurwa!” I hissed, opening up a crate in the back of the flatbed and tossing pack after pack of cigarettes in Dalg’s direction. The Sirian caught them with lightning reflexes, tossing them into a bag hanging from his side. Every pack I tossed, I remembered how I earned them doing difficult jobs: the scavenging at Fool’s Field, panning at the White River, and almost getting myself killed shooting a gang lord with a heavy price on his head. These smokes were more than just money, they were trophies of jobs well done.

“You only negotiated for the engine and tires, Pawel.”

He was right. This was immature of me, even when the pressure was building and I wanted to get the hell out of town. Dalg didn’t deserve this attitude.

Sighing, I grabbed a spare set of green pants and a hooded jacket and slid them on, “I’m sorry, Dalg. Things have been...”

“Shit,” Dondrae interrupted.

“Shit,” I agreed. “And we have to leave now. Sorry if I’ve been a pain in the ass.”

I reached out my hand and Dalg grabbed it with his rough, padded palm and shook it. He did not lean in and smell me like before, likely he was still a little pissed off at my attitude, but it was a start. In the end, it didn’t matter, I probably would never return to Rust, but it was always good to be a pleasant person. You just never know when you’ll run into someone and need their help.

Still, he did not say a word further, silently making his way towards the garage door and yanking at a chain, slowly pulling the door open and revealing the morning sun-soaked dirt roads and a few aliens casually milling about. We took this as our cue to leave.

“I’ll drive,” Dondrae offered, darting into the drivers seat before I could object. He smiled at me, a toothy smile that would have made me nervous if he hadn’t proven himself already. “Your foots still fucked up.”

I got into the passenger seat and with a little help from me, Dondrae got the Hauler started and moving. We rumbled dizzily through the streets, nearly clipping a plastic chair on the side of the road. I kept my palm on the holster the whole time, carefully scanning the roads on the lookout for any trouble.

Signs of yesterday’s battle were still evident at the gate. Bullet wounds in the gates and walls, along with craters in the field. For now though, we had to deal with something more terrifying: bureaucracy.

“Bribe,” the Vulpeculan guard stretched out his black paw, palm up. His red muzzle was wrinkled in irritation or some vain attempt at being intimidating. His other palm was resting on a sub-machine gun resting by his hip, attached to a strap that wrapped over his dark blue jumpsuit.

“Now that ain’t polite, is it?” Dondrae chuckled, slapping the top of the steering wheel. “Thought this was supposed to be a friendly town?”

“Bribe,” the Vulpeculan repeated, snarling and revealing that he only had his bottom fangs, making it look like he had the world’s worst underbite.

The guard’s attempt at intimidation might have failed, but I soon grew worried when I looked in the rear-view mirror. A truck rumbled to a stop behind us and unlike before, I recognized the inhabitants immediately. Lupiads, the very same ones from last night, with the Chief sitting shotgun. Worst of all, they recognized us and soon began to excitedly talk amongst themselves.

“Don, please,” I nervously looked at the mutt sitting next to me and then to the mirror. I reached back to grab a pack of cigarettes, locking eyes with one of the Lupiads in the truck behind us who stared back with a smile. I changed my mind, I grabbed five packs and passed them over Dondrae to the Vulpeculan.

“Here, you can have extra...” as I spoke, the guard greedily tried to grab the packs but I pulled them away. He glared at me with his slitted pupils. His eyes were yellow, not green, not him. “But only if you delay those pricks behind us.”

He agreed as best as he was able to and I gave him the smokes. Dondrae stepped on the gas and we galloped out of there. I didn’t expect the guard to do much, but he surprised me when I caught sight of him in the mirror: he stepped in front of the Pack’s truck and drew his machine gun, barking orders at the Lupiads, who complied. Even they knew better than to fuck with the guards at Rust. The Vulpeculan might have been an ineffectual, corrupt bureaucrat, but the snipers and the machine-gunners on and around the wall weren’t.

“Holy shit!” Dondrae yelled, craning his head out the window. I couldn’t help but laugh as he opened his mouth and his tongue flew out behind him with the wind. It was sometimes hard not to think of him as a big, friendly dog. He slapped me on the shoulder with his heavy paw. “That was intense! We’re gonna make it!”

“Fuck, yeah we are!”

“Come on, you can be louder than that!” he flashed me a confident grin.

“FUCK YEAH!”

I was feeling better already. Something about my companion’s energetic attitude and his zest for life, or perhaps it was his calm, blue eyes. I tried to forget earlier, just pretend it never happened, but now, with Dondrae at my side, I was not even remembering to forget. The bad experience was just fading away.

But things never vanish.

The ground exploded to our right, just a few inches away from the wheel. Dondrae ducked his head down but didn’t slow the Hauler down for a beat, I followed suit, but not before looking in the side mirror. The Lupiads were trailing behind us in their truck and one of them was leaning out the side, staring down the sights of that experimental rifle that they took from me.

Dondrae’s voice quivered a little bit, the only hint that there might be some fear behind his confident exterior, “They have your magic rifle, don’t they?”

I nodded.

The bridge of Dondrae’s muzzle twitched and he swerved the Hauler sharply to the right, bumping me against the door. I didn’t need any orders, I whipped out my brand new Glock and fired a volley of bullets at their truck, just after the Lupiad with the rifle ducked back inside. This was a fine pistol, it was no replacement for the rifle and I didn’t count on clipping any of the scum chasing us, but it was a fine pistol.

Dondrae adjusted the gears right before we reached a sloping hill. We slowed down as we began the ascent.

“Their gears are all fucked up and the truck wasn’t meant for hills like this,” Dondrae explained, calm once again. “Just keep them busy!”

I loaded up the Glock and leaned out, peppering them with bullets. Sure enough, like Dondrae said, they halted at the base of the hill and then slowly, very slowly, crawled up it. By the time they were a foot up the hill, we were at the summit and they were out of sight.

Dondrae looked worried though. His ears were twitching wildly and his throat whined.

“What’s wrong?”

He frowned, jowls drooping like an old dog’s.

“You don’t hear it?”

I heard only a heavy bang of a drum, followed by five brass notes, and it was enough for me to recognize it even after it was drowned out over the roar of the jet-copter’s engines and the rush of hot air as it stormed past us in the skies. The Regulian Imperial Anthem.

Normally this would be a polite warning for us and any other prisoner on Planet to duck for cover, but they were already away from us and we were in a hurry. Dalg’s warning about the tracking system in the experimental gun was in the back of my mind too, especially when I looked back in the mirror and saw the jet-copter hover, turn around and descend.

We didn’t stick around to find out what they had in mind with the Lupiads. We heard the roar of automatic gun-fire and somehow, even after everything, I didn’t take the Pack to be dumb enough to pick a fight with the Regulians. Perhaps if they had treated me nicer, I would have warned them about the rifle, but they didn’t and so they were now in a fight they couldn’t win.

And now they were gone, along with their memory.