Maddrax: Volume 3 (English Edition) E-Book

Michael M. Thurner

• Herausgeber: J-Novel Pulp
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Maddrax (English Edition)
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 604

Beschreibung

Maddrax: Volume 3 (English Edition)

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Cover

The Story So Far

Undercover

World in Fear

The Caesars

Deus Ex Machina

The Complete Story So Far

About J-Novel Club

Copyright

Landmarks

Table of Contents

The Story So Far

By Ian Rolf Hill

This introduction is meant to give you a quick insight into the MADDRAX universe. For those of you who want to know the whole story, please check the extended synopsis at the end of the volume.

On February 8th, 2012, the comet “Christopher-Floyd” crashed into the Earth. United States Air Force flight commander Matthew Drax was deployed to observe the comet’s approach. When Drax and his squadron made contact with the Comet, however, they were flung five hundred years into the future.

During this time, the world as he knows it changes drastically: human civilization undergoes extreme degeneration, to the point of now resembling the Bronze Age: the world’s once-great cities lie in ruins, there are no longer any official forms of government, and people regress to living in clans and tribes, moving through the wilderness like nomads and calling themselves the “Wandering Folk.” Earth’s plants and animals have also mutated in bizarre and dangerous ways.

Upon exiting the timeslip, Drax crashes alone in the Alps. His passenger, the scientist and professor Dr. Jacob Smythe, triggered his ejector seat out of panic and is now missing. There is no trace of Drax’s other comrades.

Attacked by mutated, semi-intelligent giant rats called Taratzes, Matt is saved by a barbarian warrior named Aruula. As she finds his name, “Matt Drax,” difficult to pronounce, she gives him the nickname “Maddrax.” A telepath, Aruula is instantly able to understand Matt, and the two form a connection. Soon after, Aruula falls in love with Drax and remains by his side throughout his adventures.

In London, Matt and Aruula meet a group known as the “Technos,” whose ancestors survived the comet’s impact in bunkers beneath the city. By avoiding the immediate aftermath of the disaster, the group has not only retained its twenty-first-century intelligence, but continued to invent and innovate. However, this knowledge has come at a price: due to their centuries-long stay in the bunkers, the Technos have depleted immune systems, and are only able to visit the surface in protective suits. The community in London offers to connect Drax with other Technos around the world. The journey brings Matt and Aruula to America, now known as “Meeraka” in the language of the Wandering Folk.

Along the way, they encounter the Hydrites, an anthropomorphized species of fish-people. Later, it is revealed that they are not mutants, but rather an alien race who initially settled on Mars, where they were known as Hydrees. When Mars began losing its atmosphere hundreds of thousands of years ago, the Hydrees traveled along a tachyon-based time beam to Earth, where they took the name “Hydrite” and settled the undersea frontiers.

One of the Hydrites—a man named Quart’ol—begins traveling with the pair, ultimately sacrificing himself to save Matt’s life. In the aftermath, Matt and Aruula are separated before they can reach Meeraka. While Aruula is forced to travel with the Neo-Barbarian Rulfan (son of a London Techno and a barbarian woman), Matt Drax reaches the coast of the former USA.

In Washington (now “Waashton”), Matt learns of another bunker-based civilization, one calling itself the “World Council” and claiming to be the true global political leaders. The council’s president—General Arthur Crow—is a power-obsessed dictator looking to cement his grip on the world. A rebel group, the “Running Men,” seeks to thwart his plans. The Running Men are led by Mr. Black, a clone of the last US President (and a certain beloved action movie star).

During the clash between the World Council and the rebels, an outside consciousness takes control of Matt Drax. This turns out to be Quart’ol, who at the moment of his death, transferred his soul into Matt’s brain. Quart’ol brings Drax to an undersea city of Hydrites, Hykton, in order to have his consciousness implanted in a clone of his original body.

Matt returns to Waashton where he reunites with Aruula. Together, they are forced to flee from the World Council and end up in Los Angeles (now called “El’ay”). There, they meet the android Miki Takeo, who becomes one of their closest friends.

Meanwhile, the World Council plans a mission to the ISS, where they hope to find information about the comet’s impact. Matt is forced to travel on a repaired space shuttle to make the trip and recover the data. From space, Matt is able to see that life began evolving much faster near the site of the comet’s impact in Siberia than in other locations.

Together with Miki Takeo, Matt organizes an expedition to Crater Lake. The World Council also catches wind of the discovery and a team is en route. On the long and dangerous journey to Crater Lake, Aruula is possessed by a strange consciousness which calls itself GREEN and is a type of plant-based hive mind. Upon Matt and Aruula’s arrival at Crater Lake, the warrior reveals that she is pregnant, and that her child also possesses plant DNA. GREEN has apparently manipulated the embryo’s development, whereby its gestation is changed. Cruelly, Aruula’s child is taken from her womb by an unknown creature before she can give birth.

Shortly thereafter, Matt and Quart’ol make a shocking discovery: Comet Christopher-Floyd was actually a spaceship!

The ship was an ark belonging to an alien species known as the “Daa’mures,” who were searching for a new homeworld and crashed on Earth. The Daa’murian consciousness is stored in green crystals, whose energy is not only responsible for humanity’s degeneration, but also the mutations of other species. Their motivation is clear: the Daa’mures are using the mutations to find ideal host bodies in which to rehouse their minds. A further surprise comes in the form of information that the spaceship is also a cosmic being, known as an “Oqualun” or “Wanderer.”

When Matt accidentally destroys a Daa’murian egg, he is instantly declared enemy number one. Together with his friends, he flees to Russia. There, he meets with a group of Technos who have created an immunity serum from the blood of Mr. Black, allowing various bunker inhabitants to visit the surface without protection. They also confirm that Matt’s body has been flooded with tachyons, which slow down the aging process—possibly as a result of the time slip.

Matt annihilates the Daa’mures’ mutant army and couriers the immunity serum back to London, where he forms an alliance against the Daa’mures with General Crow.

The Daa’mures succeed at reactivating the Wanderer, which sends out a planetwide electromagnetic pulse (EMP) and takes all remaining technology on Earth out of commission. Chaos breaks out, and the Technos are forced to flee their bunkers without protection. As if that were not enough, Matt and Aruula learn that the Daa’mures themselves are only one of countless servant races created by the Wanderers to protect themselves from their enemies: the Warriors, cosmic hunters of unimaginable strength.

Matt and his allies are able to hold off the Wanderer, but the Warrior is quickly on his target’s trail. In order to overcome this threat, Matt searches beneath the Antarctic ice to find a long-lost legendary weapon created by the Hydrees: the Surface Reamer. A grand artifact of unimaginable destruction, it is naturally being pursued by General Crow as well. He attempts to force Matt to fire the Reamer at Washington, hoping to eradicate the Running Men in the process.

However, Matt manages to change the target coordinates at the last second. Instead of hitting Washington, Matt targets an area in the Appalachian mountains, where General Crow was operating a factory building organic robots. The shot effectively exchanges a region five kilometers in diameter with a bubble containing its counterpart from almost million years into the future, The Earth is left defenseless against the Warrior.

With the help of a converter that harnesses the Earth’s magnetic field, Matt is able to reload the Surface Reamer, only for it to backfire when the Warrior comes into range. The Warrior destroys the Earth, and Matt only has one chance left to fix things: entering the time bubbles created by the misfire, which lead to both the past and future.

While traveling through various parallel worlds, Matt meets the archaeologist and time traveler Tom Ericson in the year 2304. Ericson works for a group of evolved humans from the future who call themselves the “Archivists.” Their goal is not only to collect technical achievements from the parallel worlds but also to remove any dangerous time lines and continuities from existence. Matt, therefore, gains an opportunity to quickly reload the Surface Reamer and defeat the Warrior. Unfortunately, too late, and the Moon is launched from its orbit into the Reamer’s firing path, threatening to crash into the Earth.

Matt and Aruula travel through a wormhole at CERN and are sent to a far distant ring planet system. There they meet another alien species called the “Kasynari.” They offer to assist humanity with the evacuation of Earth through the use of a portable wormhole generator. In reality, their goal is to feed off the mental energy of human brains. Only by doing so they are able to maintain the camouflage required to protect their home planet.

Ultimately, it is revealed that the true threat is another Wanderer: like the Daa’mures, the Kasynari are servants of the Oqualun. However, their plan fails and the camouflage screen is nullified. In order to help the Kasynari and save the Earth, Matt and Aruula make contact with the species from whom the Kasynari adapted the wormhole technology: the Pancinovas. With their help, the pair are able to transport the Surface Reamer from the Antarctic to the ring planet system and give the Kasynari a weapon to use against the Warriors pursuing the Wanderer.

And that’s not all! The Pancinovas manage to perform the impossible: They create a gigantic wormhole that sends the moon back to its orbit, saving the Earth before returning to their own solar system. However, the wormhole passage to the ring planet system has collapsed. Contact is lost between Earth and the established colony on the moon Novis.

Before the collapse, a military hardliner named Colonel Aran Kormak also had a lucky break and escaped the collapsing wormhole. Doing so triggered a chain reaction with unexpected consequences: all across Earth, regions measuring exactly fifty kilometers in diameter have been replaced with their counterparts from parallel worlds, surrounded by near-impenetrable forests of thorns.

Undercover

By Michael M. Thurner

Colonel Aran Kormak felt cold rage.

The arduous journey to Yucatán had taken him weeks, chasing after luminous apparitions in the sky and the carcass of a flying lizard. He and his companions had traversed savannas, crossed mountains, and waded through swamps. They had even conquered the Gulf of Mexico in a miserable cockle, which brought its own share of hardship. All that, just to end up empty-handed. Kormak had missed Matthew Drax by mere minutes.

And yet, Aran Kormak had a new objective. In a city called “Sub’sisco,” a glider was waiting for him—a flying ship.

“Fall back!” Johnson screamed in a panic. “We don’t stand a chance against those beasts!”

“Stay here, you cowards!”

None of the squad’s four soldiers obeyed Kormak’s order. He could hear them running away along the strange thorny thicket, which they had been unable to penetrate. He stayed behind by himself to face an opponent that could not have been more terrifying.

Calm and composed, Aran pulled the M27 from his back. He pressed the butt against his upper body and aimed at the monster. The animal appeared to be made purely out of muscles, tendons, teeth, claws, and rage—and it shouldn’t have existed. It must have somehow made its way through the plant maze before the wall had reached its current height. The beast was injured. Its flanks were covered in blood.

A Tyrannosaurus rex, Kormak reflected; he’d read the ancient history books in Bodrum’s bunker. Now he was standing opposite an eight-meter-long lizard with a mighty tail and thick, horny skin. A second dinosaur, in addition to the flying lizard!

Roaring, the creature stormed toward him with large steps. Its tiny forelegs, equipped with sharp claws, reached out in his direction.

Thirty meters.

Kormak aimed at the dinosaur’s chest before changing his mind and targeting the small, red eyes. They were glowing insidiously.

Twenty meters.

Kormak pulled the trigger and welcomed the Tyrannosaurus with a hail of lead. The rifle butt painfully recoiled against his shoulder; he resisted and continued firing.

The dino shook its mighty skull as if those bullets had merely been pesky, bloodsucking mosquitoes. It must have been too stupid to realize that sizable pieces of flesh had been ripped from its body. Parts of its jaws had been smashed, liquid poured from its flanks, one claw had broken off. Despite it all, the animal kept storming toward Kormak.

Ten meters!

Another salvo! One of the Tyrannosaurus’s eyes burst. The animal screamed, shaking its ugly head back and forth. It slowed down, as if it had only just noticed that it was badly hurt. Then it stopped. Blood gushed out of its wounds and painted peculiar patterns on its gray skin.

Kormak threw the empty magazine aside and reloaded his weapon. These hand movements had become second nature to him. It only took him two, three seconds before he was ready to fire again. He didn’t hesitate. The dinosaur may have been lethally wounded, but it would soon pounce on him if given the opportunity. The predator didn’t look like it was just going to accept its fate. It would do everything possible to take Kormak down with it.

So, Kormak shot again—and to his surprise noticed fire coming from both sides. His squad had returned, led by Margaux of all people—the woman he had distrusted.

The Tyrannosaurus rex screamed in rage and agony. It scraped the ground with the claws on its hind legs and tried to jump—but its legs buckled. There was one last pitiful groan before silence set in. The dinosaur was dead.

***

Aran Kormak suppressed his fury. His soldiers weren’t nearly skilled enough to guarantee the success of his mission. They had recoiled from a single animal that was far inferior to them thanks to their weapons.

Back in Bodrum, he would have made the woman and the three men stand before a tribunal and ordered their summary execution. However, here in this unknown land, he had to make compromises if he wanted to attain his goal of reaching Sub’sisco—a city long ago known as San Francisco, located several thousand kilometers northwest from here.

After leaving behind Méda and its less-than-cooperative villagers, they had wandered westward along the impenetrable hedge. Past shabby huts and tiny farmsteads where famished people sat waiting lethargically for something that would never happen.

Aran’s initial hopes of finding a spot where they could break through or climb over the thorn hedge had been shattered. The wonders hiding behind the wall were outside his reach. As consolation, at least they had discovered that the next big settlement, Campeech, was about ten kilometers away. There, he intended to set camp for the night.

“Do you plan on marching to Sub’sisco on foot in day stages, colonel?” Johnson asked. “We’ll never make that.”

Kormak made a mental note. Johnson had remained loyal for weeks, but now he had started to show weakness and doubt his superior’s decisions.

“We’ll organize ourselves a transport, We’ll take what we need. The people here are disorganized. They won’t show any resistance in Campeech.”

“We should return to Knocks first,” Derwell chimed in. “With the right equipment and renewed strength...”

“You want to take a detour of two thousand kilometers so you can have a good night’s sleep?”

“N-No, colonel, I just thought...”

“Leave the thinking to those capable of it! Fool! We’ll find a quicker way to Sub’sisco.”

Aran Kormak continued on the way forward. His minions followed him without saying a word.

No matter who Kormak asked in Campeech, the answer he got was the same as the one in Méda: the means of transport available for their journey back to Meeraka were limited and unsuitable for long distances.

Horsays, horselike beasts with a wolf’s teeth, were probably the best option in this deserted land. And if they didn’t obey him, he would pull out their fangs. But first, he had to acquire some.

Though the villagers assured him that all the Horsay farms were far outside, at least one day’s march south of Campeech, Kormak had overheard a shepherd boast about his two magnificent Horsays in a shabby cantina. That man was their target. They would ambush him as soon as he left his modest abode at the edge of the village.

Kormak didn’t hesitate for long when the short man who reeked of alcohol stepped outside. He grabbed the peasant, threw him to the ground, and rolled him over face-down without paying any attention to the stares of the other locals.

Meanwhile, Johnson, Ludewick, and Derwell were chewing on some tobacco that they had acquired a few minutes earlier at a village shop—disgusting stuff with a foul taste. The smell alone repulsed Kormak. Margaux, the fifth member of his group, had also foregone the tobacco. But her lofty facial expression angered him. She was wearing her arrogance like a badge of honor. While she undoubtedly looked attractive with her dark hair and blue eyes, she lacked subservience. That was a dangerous flaw for anyone who had sworn their loyalty to him.

The shepherd, whose nose was strangely deformed, was pleading for mercy.

“Two Horsays? That’s all you got?” Kormak growled. “You like being alive, right? So tell me: where can we get more animals?”

“Only...the breeding farms to the south, sir!” The man gagged. “Please, believe me!”

Kormak let go of the man. It took several seconds for the drunk to prop himself up on his forearms. Thick strands of his oily hair stuck to his face. Aran turned up his nose. The odious smell of tobacco was somehow a lot more tolerable than this guy’s foul stench.

“Believe someone like you?” he grabbed the peasant again. “What about your neighbors? They must have Horsays too!”

The cringing weed of a man ducked as if to evade a punch. “We’re a poor village, señor,” he insisted. “No one else has Horsays, only Wakudas for the fields. They’re bad for riding. Oh, but I can get you a cart...”

He fell silent when the colonel shoved him back down into the mud. Great. Riding across the land on an ox cart. Exactly what I need right now, Kormak thought sarcastically. He kicked the man lying on the ground. “You’ll hand over both animals!” he declared in a voice that didn’t leave any room for objections. “Plus as many supplies as they can carry.”

“With pleasure, señor,” the man hastily agreed. “Twenty bax per animal and three more for the sup—”

In a flash Kormak grabbed his throat and made him choke on his words. “I have a counteroffer,” he said in a dangerously friendly voice. “Two bax for each nag and another for the supplies. Think wisely before refusing,” he added. “My next offer will be less generous. And you can still lose a lot more—like your life.”

The shepherd understood and squeezed out a hoarse “Okay!” He proved more intelligent than Aran had expected.

Kormak let go of the man and shook his cramped hands. He waved at Johnson, who pulled the man up by his collar and pushed him toward the stables.

Two Horsays was better than nothing. But it was hard to tame those aggressive beasts. Together with their load, they wouldn’t be able to carry more than one rider each. A strenuous journey of several thousand kilometers lay ahead of him. Who should I take along?

He needed someone loyal, tough, and capable. He rubbed his temples. The decision was probably up to the second Horsay rather than him. The colonel was certain that he could quickly bring a mount under control—but who else could do the same?

***

To Kormak’s delight, both Horsays turned out to be strong, well-fed animals. The shepherd must have taken better care of them than of himself. They would complete the journey without any problems.

One of them bared its teeth and let out a menacing groan when Kormak approached. He liked this one. He took a bridle off the shed’s wall and opened the gate to let the animal storm out onto the small hill. At once, it tried to push him aside with its head, but he had anticipated as much and elegantly evaded the beast’s charge.

He glared hard at the members of his squad. They were standing around with arms crossed, perplexed looks on their faces. Nobody wanted to tame these beasts. While the Horsays may have been made “rideable” that didn’t mean they would obey a new master right away.

Kormak grabbed a rope that was hanging next to the bridles and jumped over the wooden fence. The Horsay scraped the sandy ground with its right front hoof and lowered its head like a Wakuda that was about to flatten an enemy. Kormak grinned as he took two steps toward the animal. At the same time, he rapidly knotted the end of the rope, all the while keeping an eye on the attacking Horsay.

The beast growled once more before trying to ram Kormak. Skillfully, he dodged the attack and managed to sling the rope around the Horsay’s forelegs. The noose tightened. Kormak planted his feet in the sandy ground and braced himself with his whole body weight.

A violent jerk went through his entire body, but he managed to stay upright. He pulled on the rope with all his strength—and lo and behold, the Horsay skidded with its forelegs. It collapsed, fell to the side, and shortly after stood up again with a confused look on its face.

Before the animal refocused, Kormak pushed the bit in its gaping mouth and closed the bridle’s hooks. In a single bound, he mounted the animal without letting go of the rope or the bridle’s reins.

Visibly resolved to get rid of its rider, the Horsay started bucking and thrashing. Again and again, Kormak pulled the rope that still controlled the forelegs. He could feel the Horsay’s strength diminishing. It was beginning to bow to his will.

Its forelegs buckled repeatedly. Kormak’s tight hold of the reins caused a nonstop, desperate head banging. The groans had grown weaker, the steps insecure. A few minutes later, the Horsay stopped bucking. It panted, foaming from the corners of its mouth. Both reins and rope had become increasingly looser.

It was easier than Kormak had expected. Tactical skill and a ruthless leading hand—those qualities had distinguished him for years. They were equally dominant whether he was dealing with humans or animals. He pulled the reins and the Horsay came to an abrupt halt.

Kormak jumped off its back and looked into its dark eyes. He thought he recognized a glimmer of resignation there. The colonel grabbed one of its nose horns and pushed the Horsay a few steps backward. It obeyed with a slight grunt. A sense of triumph welled up in Kormak. Slowly, he turned his head and observed recognition in his followers’ eyes.

“Child’s play!” he shouted at his soldiers. “Who’s next?”

Margaux elegantly climbed the fence and sat down upon the top wooden beam. She put a straw between her lips and smiled smugly. “There’s just one Horsay left.”

Kormak bowed in an overexaggerated manner. “Great perception, soldier. May the best man win.” He didn’t care whether Margaux realized that he would have preferred a male companion.

However, to Aran’s dismay, Johnson, Ludewick, and Derwell all proceeded to fail. The second Horsay, which he had judged to be less determined than his own mount, had a field day with the three men. They only managed to stay on the animal’s back for several seconds before it threw them off.

“Give us orym!” Johnson panted. “That’ll help us conquer this beast.”

Kormak shook his head. “I’m not going to give you another dose for this. You’ll have to succeed on your own,” he declared with annoyance. “You lack energy,” he screamed at his men. “How about this: whoever tames the bucking beast gets an extra dose? Does that motivate you?”

Nothing changed. Johnson managed to stay atop the animal for a while before getting hurled against the corral’s wooden planks. He ended up lying stunned on the ground. Ludewick ran away from the Horsay until he managed to get himself to safety with a daring jump. And Derwell was almost impaled by the beast before he even had a chance to swing himself onto its back.

These losers!

“I wouldn’t mind an extra dose of orym,” Margaux sneered. So far, she had kept aloof.

Kormak laughed disparagingly. “Then try your luck!”

“May the best woman win!” Margaux jumped off the fence into the corral. She gave him a cheeky look. “What do I win besides more of the good stuff? That would be a meager reward.”

“A beating, if you don’t stay disciplined, soldier. I won’t allow such defiant behavior. Especially not from a member of my personal squad.”

She placed her fists on her hips. “Whoever tames the Horsay should get the privilege to continue the journey alongside you. But you just want to have one of the men come with you.”

Kormak smirked and pointed at the Horsay, which was standing there with its head lowered. “Fine. Ms. Margaux wants to demonstrate her riding skills.”

Ludewick grinned while dusting off his pants, Derwell cursed under his breath, and a dazed Johnson stared blankly into space.

Margaux attentively observed the Horsay and slowly approached the animal. She picked up the rope that Derwell had carelessly thrown on the ground and waited for the right moment. In a flash, she swung herself on the beast’s back and clung to it.

It was somewhat funny to see the animal bucking while a delicate figure sat glued on its back. Eventually, the Horsay was left with no choice but to calm down to catch its breath. Margaux used that moment to swing the rope so precisely that the animal bit into it. A strong pull later, the rope was secured between its jaws.

The Horsay’s renewed attempts to throw Margaux on the ground also failed. It didn’t take long until it meekly trotted into the direction indicated by its rider.

Kormak wasn’t impressed. Margaux’s slender figure just gave her an advantage staying atop the massive animal compared to her comrades. That was all.

Or was it?

He had to admit that the woman had put on an impressive display of skill. She was more capable than the other soldiers. And a Horsay only respected the rider who tamed it. Johnson, Derwell, and Ludewick would have to wrestle for days with the animal before making any progress.

“Tomorrow, Margaux and I set out,” Kormak announced decisively. “The rest of you gather information on our travel route until then. I want to know what awaits us on our way to Sub’sisco. Margaux, you relieve the shepherd of his supplies.”

“What about my reward, colonel?” The soldier swung off the Horsay’s back and patted its neck.

The information that Kormak received that night regarding the route to Sub’sisco was sobering. There was no easy passage. First, they would have to ride through a sparsely populated wilderness, then cross the Sonoran Desert. That expansive landscape had given rise to many strange stories in Campeech.

The villagers discouraged them from traversing the desert. It was rumored to be a ruthless place. And the residents didn’t just refer to the heat and drought.

Whatever, Kormak thought grimly, I will reach my goal. It’s only a question of will.

His people had amassed as much information as possible in the short time. At dawn, he and Margaux bid farewell to Johnson, Derwell, and Ludewick. The three men would have to journey back to Knocks without any orym supplies.

Kormak swung himself into the coarse leather saddle. He checked the compass, the radio device, and all the other important utensils inside his Horsay’s saddlebag.

Margaux carried the majority of the water and food supplies. The colonel didn’t help her load the provisions. She needed to learn to act independently without complaining. Vasraa had never said anything either.

Vasraa... The traitor. The woman who had abandoned him...

***

Twelve years ago

The first night following his exile from Bodrum, Aran Kormak didn’t get a wink of sleep. He uneasily rolled around in his sleeping bag, plagued by images and impressions: Oerum, the queen of Siragipps, was omnipresent in his thoughts.

Why had his plan failed? Why hadn’t he been able to lure her into the trap at Bodrum Castle and kill her? She hadn’t shown up, probably because she had seen through his plans. And now he had to live with the consequences: exile from the bunker community.

Nobody except for him had shown the courage to sacrifice a few people for the good of everyone else. If he had destroyed Oerum as planned, they would have built a shrine in his honor, and all the casualties would have been considered collateral damage. But as things were, the bunker commander Mustaaf had condemned Kormak’s unauthorized actions.

He’ll get what’s coming for him. The Siragipps attacks on Bodrum wouldn’t end. But that was no longer Kormak’s problem.

Private Alli’s snoring tore him out of his memories. The brave yet mentally challenged soldier had left the bunker community together with him and Vasraa.

Even though Alli wasn’t the smartest guy around, he had realized that Mustaaf’s lax leadership style wasn’t the right response to the Siragipps’ constant attacks. He wanted to fight, and preferably alongside Kormak, who gladly welcomed him. Having another loyal companion couldn’t do any harm. After all, a long, dangerous journey through a Siragipp-infested land lay ahead of them.

His gaze fell upon Vasraa, who was sleeping like a baby. It was as if she was on a family trip rather than in a hostile environment. She was the most loyal and reliable companion imaginable. With her head held high, she had left her home in Bodrum. At her age she was already more courageous and honorable than her father Mustaaf would ever be. Kormak didn’t know what it looked like inside of her, but he didn’t really want to think about it either. She was an excellent soldier. That was exactly what he needed right now.

Slowly, the sun rose on the horizon. Kormak noticed the red morning sky. His time in Bodrum had come to an end. Now began a life without meaningless orders and the incompetence of a cowardly leader.

“Is the weapon still working, private?” Kormak pointed at the object of his desires. He had discovered the pistol in Alli’s holster. Mustaaf had left him and Vasraa with only two knives and a day’s worth of provisions, which they now had to share with the private.

“Yes, sir. I also have spare ammunition, sir!” The soldier pushed a piece of mushy bread into his mouth.

“Good. Give me your weapon.”

Alli stopped chewing and stared at Aran, dumbfounded. “Why?”

Kormak remained calm. “As a colonel, I’m the highest-ranking member of our small group, private. Don’t you think I should be carrying our only firearm?”

Alli continued chewing like a stupid Wakuda. Finally, he nodded. “Yes, makes sense, sir,” he unfastened the holster with the pistol and handed it to Kormak.

That was easy. Aran exchanged glances with Vasraa, who grinned and shook her head.

“We should set off and distance ourselves further from the bunker,” he decided.

Vasraa packed up the remaining food. It wasn’t much but better than nothing.

“Where are we headed?” Vasraa asked. “The land is infested with Siragipps. We won’t be able to defend ourselves for long with just one firearm and two knives.”

Kormak stood up. “We’re heading northeast, toward Toorba.”

“Toorba?” Vasraa frowned. “There’s nothing valuable there.”

“That’s conventional wisdom,” Kormak answered with a grin. “But I started depositing weapons there in a hideout several months ago. I planned ahead, since I didn’t want to leave my fate up to chance, Mustaaf’s whims, or the Siragipps. We’ll raid my hideout and continue marching toward Izmir.”

Vasraa nodded affirmatively. Alli, however, didn’t seem to understand what he was talking about. Silently, he trudged along behind them.

***

They didn’t have to walk too far, merely three kilometers. But Kormak already noticed strange movements following their first few steps. He may have been blinded by the rising sun, but one thing was sure: something was approaching them.

Vasraa held her arm back. “Do you see that?”

“Yes,” Kormak replied. “Get ready.” He loaded the pistol, Vasraa drew her knife. Alli pulled out a sharp object that looked like a giant nail from his boot shaft.

It was a single Siragipp coming toward them in its typical scissor walk. This was unusual; normally, the mutated spiders preferred moving in larger groups. Kormak signaled his two companions to stay left and right of him. They formed a horizontal line while approaching the beast.

With a deafening cry, the Siragipp charged Kormak. The colonel calmly aimed at his target and fired a shot. The bullet hit the insect skull right in the forehead. The Siragipp floundered and fell over. Just to be safe, Alli stabbed its head several times with his skewer until it stayed motionless.

Kormak took a deep breath. “That was a patrol spider,” he explained. “Oerum must have sent out scouts to check the whole area. We have to hurry before a Siragipp sights us and alerts the entire pack. The sooner we get to the farm in Toorba where I hid my weapons, the better our chances of survival.”

Vasraa and Alli nodded, and they set off in a light jog.

Two more scouts crossed their path. Kormak’s precise shots slew them. The group kept running without making any stops. Kormak reloaded the pistol on the move. Less than a kilometer to the weapons cache...

The colonel tasked Alli with killing the last spider standing between them and the hill on which stood the farm. Like a crazed little Seytan, as the Turkish referred to the devil, the private stabbed the Siragipp until it became lifeless. He only lowered his weapon once all the legs had stopped twitching.

“Good work, private,” Kormak commented. Small experiences of success lifted the squad’s morale.

On the inside, however, he was much less happy. If he was Oerum, what would be his next move? Surely, the mother of all Siragipps must have known by now that they were heading toward the farm. Her scouts were everywhere. There might have been enough time for the mutant spiders to prepare an ambush.

Kormak raised his hand. “We’ll stay under cover and observe the farm for now.”

Alli nodded, whereas Vasraa sent him a knowing glance. They had been acquainted for a long time, and she must have had similar thoughts. Good. Fewer explanations, fewer discussions.

When the cottage came into sight, they crawled forward through several furrows in the field until they reached a pile of musty hay bales. There they hid. There didn’t seem to be any hostile movement; the farmstead stood peacefully in front of them.

“Nobody’s there. Let’s push ahead!”

Alli wanted to stand up, but Vasraa held him back by the arm. “Not so fast, private!”

“We’ll split up, so we can give each other cover,” Kormak murmured. “Private Alli, you take the right side. Vasraa goes around the pasture fences on our left. I’ll stay in the dried-up riverbed to the right of the farm. We’ll meet at the barn. Understood?”

Vasraa nodded briefly. Alli also seemed to understand as he grinned broadly. “And then, we’ll get the big guns, sir!”

Kormak patted his shoulder. “Then let’s go, private. And good luck!”

Alli scurried away. When Vasraa wanted to stalk off, Kormak held her back. “Could be a trap,” he whispered. “Let’s leave it to the private to trigger it. We’ll only intervene if we’ve got a realistic chance.”

Vasraa nodded again. “Thought so. The weapons aren’t in the barn, right?”

“No, they’re not,” Kormak once again found himself impressed by her keen perception.

They both took off. When he reached the hip-deep riverbed, he crouched down and followed it until he found a position roughly fifty meters to Alli’s right. He closely scanned the surroundings but couldn’t see anything suspicious.

Vasraa had also taken up her position on the other side of the farmstead. He could see her blond hair blowing in the gusty wind, followed by an arm gesture. Private Alli walked up to the barn with his knife drawn.

They didn’t have to wait for long. Once Alli had come within twenty meters of the barn gate, out of the blue, Siragipps showed up from all directions. They had kept completely silent while lurking between rusty harvesting equipment, hay bales, and piles of rotten wood. At least two dozen of them surrounded Alli.

The private tried fending off the attacks with a knife, but the first Siragipp already knocked him over, inflicting a wound on his upper body. Alli pulled himself back up and staggered toward the barn gate while calling out for his two comrades.

Kormak hated abandoning a comrade, but even the three of them together wouldn’t have stood a chance against those numbers. He followed the riverbed up to the barn, all the while staying under cover. The Siragipps hadn’t noticed him and Vasraa. They were drawn toward Alli, driven by their bloodthirst.

The soldier tore down the transverse beam locking the gate, leapt inside the barn, and tried closing the doors again behind himself. Kormak was watching him through a wide gap in the wooden planks. But Private Alli didn’t make it in time. The Siragipps advanced inside, pushing him along and eventually throwing him down. Accompanied by shrill screams, they started their meal. Then the barn gate closed behind the last spider monster. Not by itself though—Vasraa had locked it, returning the beam back to its place. Great! Now the giant spiders were trapped!

Kormak pulled out a lighter to ignite a piece of cloth. He waited patiently for the flames to start burning. Then, he hurled the cloth through a gap in the planks into the barn, where it landed on top of a small pile of straw, which instantly caught on fire.

The Siragipps hadn’t noticed the danger yet, as they were still drunk on their bloodlust. But it didn’t take long until the first shrill warning cries sounded along with hectic movements. Too late—the barn was already up in flames.

The dried wood nourished the fire abundantly. Huge flames shot up far above the barn’s gable roof. Sparks sprayed in all directions, and the sky appeared to darken. Kormak recoiled from the intense heat. The barn would be those beasts’ coffin...

At that moment, two planks broke, and a Siragipp squeezed itself through the gap. Kormak drew his pistol and fired. The animal died and blocked the newly made escape route. The terrible smell of burned chitin filled the air.

He heard Vasraa call from the front side of the barn. Apparently, she was also dealing with escaping giant spiders, but Kormak couldn’t help her. Not now when more animals would try to flee. In their panic, they broke through the burning wall, dragging along embers. They were burning and glowing. Their smoldering legs buckled. Kormak finished off his enemies with precise shots, but gradually his ammunition was running out.

Once he was sure that no more animals would follow, he walked around the barn. His reserves had been reduced to two dozen bullets. Vasraa was kneeling in front of the barn gate, surrounded by five Siragipp carcasses. Some of their legs were still twitching in their death throes.

They had won. Together and at a safe distance, they waited until the fire died down and the barn collapsed in on itself with a bang. It would probably take another hour or two for the last flames to burn out.

“Come,” Kormak invited his companion and led her around the main building toward a bunch of barrels half-filled with water. They drank and washed the dirt and soot off their bodies.

“So, where do you have your weapons stored?” Vasraa asked.

Instead of an answer, Kormak pushed one of the barrels aside. Beneath it appeared a metal plate. And a crowbar, which he used to lift the plate. A wooden ladder led downstairs. A torch was stuck in a wall fixture. Kormak ignited it and silently climbed down. He was met with cold and stale air.

Several boxes were piled on top of each other against the walls of the small room. Light-shunning insects took flight. There were rustling sounds. Kormak opened the top box and wiped some more bugs aside before unwrapping the weapons from the oilskin and handing them up to Vasraa.

The secret cache contained two flamethrowers with small kerosene tanks, two rapid-fire guns, a sniper rifle, several revolvers, corresponding ammunition for all the guns, and hand grenades. He had been able to secretly stash away these weapons over the past few months.

In addition to weapons, there were provisions such as energy bars from the Bodrum reserves. Finally, there were bandages, medicine, radio devices, crank handle flashlights, binoculars, and other daily necessities.

After clearing out the entire storage space, Kormak climbed back out. He blinked in the sun, which was protruding between the bank of clouds. It was going to be a good day after all. Shame that poor Alli isn’t here to experience it. We’ll dig him a worthy grave.

***

The present

What had started as a comfortable ride gradually devolved into torture. The heat became worse the further north they went. Moreover, the heat wasn’t dry as one would have expected from a desert. The air was strangely humid, with an almost poisonous-seeming quality.

The boundaries of the Sonora weren’t demarcated. The area changed slowly, and it was hardly noticeable. Yesterday’s palmlike plants had now been replaced by arid growths barely higher than two meters.

Kormak wiped the sweat off his face. He and Margaux had been traveling for several days, and his limbs ached from all the riding. He had enough of the constant rocking. But he would receive compensation at their goal.

They had to ration their water reserves carefully. Kormak would have loved to wet his overheated forehead, but he resisted the urge.

He nervously drummed his fingers on the saddle’s horn. Margaux’s silence was grinding him down. On the other hand, he wasn’t interested in starting a conversation either. So he remained silent. More and more frequently he perceived strange dabs of paint from the corners of his eyes. At first, he had thought it was caused by his exhaustion, but the colored stains appeared to grow in size and move closer.

The Horsays become increasingly restless, bucking frequently. It dawned upon Kormak that they had run into something that he had waved aside as “mythical nonsense” back in Campeech. He jerked the reins and stopped atop a hill to survey the land before them. His Horsay no longer had the energy to rear up as it had done repeatedly in the beginning.

The sight that met his eyes was fascinating yet repulsive. “What the hell is that?” he whispered.

Margaux brought her Horsay to a halt. “Our end,” she commented. “The villagers were right. Look!”

He glanced to his left. A red and a green carpet approached each other. The impact looked like the breaking of gigantic waves. Strange sounds echoed through the desert: an obnoxious noise, shrill and piercing. The hair on Kormak’s forearms stood on end.

“They’re eating each other up!” Kormak realized, then cleared his throat. His mouth was dry. He no longer liked his voice. It sounded too weak to match the fire burning inside of him.

“Kolchosas,” Margaux stated. “The desert’s alive.”

The residents of Campeech had warned them about these parasitic plant carpets. These creatures devoured everything in their path. There were different species differentiated by their colors. Kolchosas of the same species didn’t harm each other. If they encountered each other, they combined into an even bigger carpet.

Kormak observed the two different colored plant carpets rip each other apart. They were devouring one another! He couldn’t recognize any hunting pattern. He didn’t even know whether they were animals or plants. But his ample combat experience told him that he was dealing with a highly dangerous life form.

“We should keep away as far as possible,” came Margaux’s quavering voice.

Aran Kormak agreed with his companion. Those Kolchosas would surround, hunt, and —finally—consume them. He didn’t know how many there were or if they lived in herds. Collectively they were a serious menace.

“Let’s ride.” Kormak hit his Horsay’s neck on the left with the reins to force it forward. “For now, they’re busy destroying each other.”

“What is your plan?” Margaux asked. “Don’t tell me you want to continue riding through the desert?”

He waited until she had caught up to him, leaned over and stared deep into her eyes. “That’s exactly my plan. Is there a problem?”

“But...that’s suicide!” she panted. “I’m out!”

Momentarily, he saw Vasraa before him. The traitor. The fraud. She had been just as awkward.

Before Margaux could react, he pushed her out of the saddle. Her body slammed into the barren ground. As she was trying to get back up, Kormak removed a water bottle from her saddlebag. He wasn’t particularly surprised to see her pull her knife.

“What’s this?” he asked and unscrewed the lid. “Mutiny?”

“That’s my water, damn it! I won’t die out here just because you want to play the big leader! Give me back my bottle!”

He kept an eye on Margaux while putting the rim to his lips. As expected, she lunged at him and reached for his arm. The next moment, she flew back. Kicked by his boot, she once again met with the hard ground surface. The knife tumbled away.

Kormak casually leaned forward in his saddle. “I wouldn’t unnecessarily exert myself in this heat.” He looked down upon Margaux and took a big gulp. “This bottle is now mine. If you push me any further, more will follow. So think wisely before giving me unsolicited advice next time. And should you dare threaten me again with a weapon, I’ll feed you to the next Kolchosa.”

Margaux sat up. “You need me. Alone, you’re lost in the desert,” she murmured.

“Alone is still better than traveling with a soldier I can’t trust. Now get back on your Horsay, and we’ll continue.”

***

The days were long, the nights short. Again and again, Kormak and Margaux were pursued by Kolchosas. But so far, they had always escaped.

In the darkness of night, they alternately stood guard. But within a matter of hours, they had to move again before that greedy pest caught up with them.

The Horsays now frequently refused to walk. They were biting, bucking, rearing up and prancing on the spot. Their mounts’ insubordination cost them much time and effort. Meanwhile, the detours became longer, their water reserves dwindled. Aran needed a solution.

Above all, they were lacking orientation. Kormak was convinced there were fixed routes through the Sonoran Desert. He just didn’t know which stories were mere rumors and which ones were real.

And then, the time arrived when Margaux’s mount sat down in exhaustion and refused to get back up. The horse mutant’s eyes had turned visibly white. It was nearing its demise.

Kormak dismounted. His animal, too, was trembling. He wiped sweat off his forehead and glanced over his shoulder. The Kolchosas hadn’t given up their pursuit. The undulating surfaces, which only differentiated themselves from each other by their colors, were breaking against rocks, devouring the few existing green areas and leaving behind a brown, withered mass.

“What now?” Margaux asked.

Kormak scratched his head. “We have to continue on foot. We don’t have many provisions left anyway. We’ll strap the few remaining water bottles onto ourselves and follow the stars further up north. The Campeech villagers said that there are base camps in the desert.”

“And you believe them?”

“You got a better idea?”

She stayed silent and started removing the water bottles from the saddle.

Kormak considered slaughtering the Horsays—but decided against it. The meat would rot quickly in the desert heat. They wouldn’t have been able to carry more than a couple of pieces.

But maybe they could use the animals to divert the Kolchosas and gain distance from them. Kormak removed his saddle and bridle, then ordered Margaux to do the same. He forcefully hit the cheeks of his Horsay, which reared up and galloped away from the plant carpets.

Margaux’s erstwhile mount reacted to its conspecific’s flight reflex. Freed from the weight of the woman and the saddlebags, it struggled back to its feet and stiffly trudged after the first mutant horse. Pumping its last remaining strength through its emaciated body, the Horsay gradually sped up.

The fleeing animals kicked up so much dust that Kormak couldn’t see anything for several seconds. He coughed and wiped the dirt off his clothes. “With a little bit of luck, they will indeed help us get a lead. They ran off southwest, away from our route.” He waved Margaux over to follow him. “Let’s go! I won’t dawdle because of you. If you can’t keep up with me, that’s your problem.”

Margaux wanted to say something but stifled her comment. Kormak wasn’t sure whether he should rejoice or not. He was thirsty, and the heat bore down on him. But the fire inside was burning hotter than the sun above.

***

It took one and a half days until they finally came across a nomad settlement. Margaux collapsed some hundred meters before their goal. Kormak looked down upon her disparagingly—but eventually helped her back up. Her exhaustion had been his drive. Admittedly, she was tough.

“Don’t think I’ll carry you the rest of the way. It’s just a few more steps,” the colonel pointed forward. There were palms, cultivated plants, and low dwellings. And most certainly something to drink.

Margaux heavily leaned against him. “Water,” she moaned. “Please, water.”

With the prospect of imminent replenishment, Kormak opened the last water bottle and poured the warm liquid into Margaux’s face. She opened her mouth wide and fought for every drop of water. Aran pulled the bottle back after a few seconds. Even if the residents of the oasis had enough water, he didn’t want to waste the last ration on Margaux.

“More’s over there,” he once again pointed in the direction of the tents and clay buildings. “So get off your ass.”

“Give me some orym!” Margaux croaked her demand.

Kormak liked the greed and despair in her face. She belonged to him. She was a slave to the orym—and to his will. Wet hair strands stuck to Margaux’s face. She leaned on him with her whole body and covered her eyes with her hands. Apparently, waiting for the world to stop turning.

Kormak no longer wanted to look at the miserable spectacle. He untangled himself and marched on. “No orym!” he shouted without turning around. “Not now. We have to save it. Get to the settlement using your own strength. Then we can talk about a small dose.”

With those words he set off—and shortly after heard the noise of Margaux dragging herself. Driven by her greed and her hate for him.

Excellent. Both emotions are outstanding lubricants to keep the human body functioning.

Kormak’s feet were aching. His skin was caked in dust and sweat. Tonight, he would sleep in a tent, even if he had to kill every single resident of this oasis. Of course, he wasn’t serious, and it wasn’t necessary either. The desert dwellers welcomed him and Margaux with open arms like all desert dwellers do. They obtained water, food, and most important of all, a route.

“And you’re saying with those lizard creatures we can safely cross the desert?” Kormak asked later. At the same time, he stuffed himself with a piece of snake meat that had been roasted on a skewer over the campfire.

An old man with a long, gray beard threw a piece of wood into the fire. “The animals are called Ferryzards—and there is no ‘safety’ in the Sonoran Desert. But if you can make it to the next loading bay, you’ve got a chance at passage.”

Kormak washed the taste of burned snake meat away with a big gulp of cactus schnapps. “And where is the nearest loading bay?”

“One day’s march from here. If you’re lucky, the next transport will take off soon.”

“And if we’re not lucky?” Kormak threw the skewer into the fire.

“Then you’ll keep sweating a while longer in this heat.”

“That won’t happen.” Aran Kormak meant every word he said.

The colonel set a rapid pace, but it appeared that Margaux didn’t want to embarrass herself today, so she kept up with him. When the sun gradually changed from a bright yellow to a fiery evening red, they perceived the contours of the loading bay. A wall made of faded wood and surrounded by giant cacti. Kormak tapped the small, bax-filled bag on his belt with his right hand. He had barely used any of their cash since their departure from Knocks. Tickets for transport for him and Margaux were guaranteed.

When they approached the large gate, it opened creakingly. A middle-aged woman in a long, grubby white dress greeted them with extended arms. “Welcome to Foraama! Are you looking for passage through the Sonoran Desert?”

Kormak furrowed his brow. No, we’re just here by pure coincidence, he thought sarcastically. What kind of stupid question is that? Out loud he replied, “That’s right, good woman.”

The woman nodded nonchalantly. “Then come with me. We’ll find you a Ferryzard and a travel date.”

“We’ll leave again tomorrow.”

The woman’s smile disappeared. “Come again?”

“I said ‘tomorrow.’” Kormak walked up to her. “Tomorrow morning, toward Sub’sisco, in the northwest of Meeraka. I’m sure you’ll find a way to...speed up our journey.”

She nodded hesitantly. “That can be done. As long as you can pay to jump the queue.”

“I think we can.”

Her smile returned. “Then welcome to our loading bay. Follow me.”

She led them inside the settlement; the gate closed behind them. Kormak was eager to meet the mysterious Ferryzards that were able to traverse the Sonoran Desert and escape the Kolchosas. But first...

“Is there someplace where we can wash ourselves?” he asked.

Abruptly, the woman stopped and turned around. She grinned at him. “What do you think? Maybe some bax can open the doors to the wash oasis?”

Kormak rummaged about in his bag and pulled out as many credit cards as he thought appropriate. The woman eagerly tried grabbing them, but Kormak withdrew his hand quick as lightning.

“I don’t just want water and clean clothes, but also a sumptuous meal and preferred treatment.”

This time, Kormak let her snatch the bax. The woman’s face beamed. “Make yourselves at home before your journey tomorrow morning. I’ll take care of everything.”

The passengers gathered at the ferryzard’s head. They were exchanging suggestions on what to do next, intermingled with wild screams of panic. Kasper was no longer able to control the passengers. They were shouting at each other, cursing at the ferryman or whining incessantly. Their ideas were useless, and no one wanted to make a decision.

Kormak turned toward Margaux. “As I feared: the cacti survived but barely produce any antigens anymore.”

“Should we run away?”

“Yes, but we need to distract the Kolchosas, or they’ll come after us.”

Kormak climbed onto his seat to make himself visible to everyone else. His voice was loud and firm. It took less than a minute to get his audience’s undivided attention.

“We have to act!” he shouted. “I’m Colonel Aran Kormak, and I’m assuming command. You can either follow my instructions or end up as Kolchosa fodder.”

“Who elected you?” yelled a chubby man in the front row. He was a peddler, more concerned about his money than his life.

“Those who want to live,” Kormak countered. “If I was you, I’d keep my mouth shut and listen. Otherwise, I’ll have to think twice about taking you along. I’ve got a plan—unlike any of you.”

Someone poked the man’s side. Kormak shook his head. They were all so aimless and grateful that someone told them what to do.

“We’ve got to distract the Kolchosas!” he shouted and made a long pause before continuing to speak. This was the tricky part of his plan. “We’ll throw the old and sick overboard. Then we’ll escape via the other side of the lizard while the Kolchosas will be busy devouring their victims. We’ve got a good chance to reach the edge of the desert.”

Following a short moment of absolute silence, there was an uproar. Coarse insults were hurled at Kormak, but he had expected as much.

“How fast are you planning to advance with the sick and frail?” he asked. “They would be your demise. Accept me as your leader—and make your decision. But hurry; time is running out.”

“Why are you explaining it to them?” Margaux asked Kormak after he had climbed down from the chair in which he now sat. All around them people were discussing, screaming, and clamoring.

Kormak smiled. “I’ve just pointed them in the right direction. You’ll see: the human will to survive is stronger than any morals.”

And he seemed to be correct. It only took about half an hour until everyone agreed to the plan.

A dozen people were deemed too old or frail, among them the peddler who had disputed Kormak’s claim to leadership earlier. Now that chubby man was dragged toward the edge of Charlatan’s back. Two coarse travelers were taking care of him. One of them bashed his head with a pickaxe, while the other cut his throat. Subsequently, they threw him off the giant carcass’s back. On the ground, the peddler’s remains joined the other corpses. Kasper was also among the sacrifices. The raging mob had lynched the ferryman after blaming him for the whole precarious situation.

The Kolchosas, which were still kept away from Charlatan’s cadaver thanks to the cacti vapors, welcomed the food and buried the corpses beneath themselves.

At that moment, all remaining doubts regarding Kormak’s plan disappeared. The passengers had packed up their things, ready to flee. Once Margaux had pushed one last old woman off Charlatan’s back, Kormak had lowered a rope ladder on the opposite side. Thus, their escape began.

***

They advanced surprisingly well. Still, Kormak was sure they only had a short lead on the plant-monsters. The Kolchosas possessed excellent hunting instincts. They would pick up the group’s trail sooner or later.

For the time being, they were still digesting the human offerings, but once the sequoias’ deterring effect subsided, the plant carpets would proceed to devour Charlatan. And when they were done consuming the lizard, the Kolchosas would begin hunting the remaining humans. The impatient ones might even head out earlier.

“Stop!” Kormak yelled and raised an arm.

“What’s wrong?” Margaux asked. “We should hu—”

Kormak interrupted her abruptly. “How many of us are there?”

“I counted forty-two people, including us two.”

The colonel divided the crowd into two groups of the same size. “Listen to me!” he shouted. “We can improve our chances by splitting up. If the Kolchosas manage to catch up to one group, the other may still escape; otherwise, we’re all lost.”

“But the groups will be weaker on their own than together!” a woman exclaimed.

“And what good does that do?” Kormak objected. “Twenty people or forty, the Kolchosas will still overpower us. My plan introduces luck as a judge over life or death. Does everyone understand?”

Agitated murmuring filled the air, but to Kormak’s surprised no one protested. He had anticipated further questions and doubts. Apparently, everyone hoped to be part of the lucky group.

He pointed in the direction of a hill several hundred meters away. “Margaux and I will climb up there. With my binoculars, we’ll keep an eye on both groups and signal you which one the Kolchosas are targeting. That way, you’ll know which group should hurry and which one can preserve its strength.”

“How heroic of you,” sneered the same woman as earlier. “You just want to send us into our death to distract them from you and your companion!”

That woman’s smarter than everyone else together, Kormak thought approvingly. But of course, he didn’t express that sentiment.