Awakening - The Last Science #1

Chapter 22 - The Importance of Flying - I

  The nearest town was almost thirty miles south, through endless thick forests and over steep hills. Alden wasn't totally out of shape, but it was going to be a hard run. If he was even still travelling south. He'd known the train station was the north end of town, and tried to keep it behind him as he went, but who knew if he was still running in a straight line since he'd plunged into the trees?

  It didn't matter in the end. There was no way he was setting foot inside Rallsburg ever again. He had to escape. To stay was suicide, or worse. He hadn't brought any food or water. He had left all his clothes and things back at the apartment. He knew full well that fleeing in a blind panic was foolhardy—and yet his legs kept pumping.

  A particularly thick tree root at an odd angle managed to trip him. His mind hurtled into the pool of energy he recognized as magic, and he grabbed his entire body. With a heave that rattled his bones, he flung himself upright again, changing direction in mid-air. Alden didn't fall. He just kept running.

  Alden wasn't even sure there was a town in thirty miles. He was relying on the vague memory of a few satellite maps on the internet. It could be just a patch of roads or a named intersection that never had anything built. At this time of night, he wasn't likely to flag down a passing car, so neither of those did him any good. He'd have to keep going. He could run a six minute mile on a good day, but this was longer than a marathon. Already, the distance seemed incredibly daunting, but with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he felt like he could make it.

  He never had a chance to find out.

  As Alden passed a tree, he tripped yet again on an unusually large dark lump jutting out of the ground. He was about to catch himself, but the lump moved. He heard a familiar grunt of pain. Alden was so shocked he crashed heavily into the dirt.

  "...the fuck?" Viper hissed, twisting around slightly to look at him. He was wearing dark green modern military camouflage and his face was dabbed with dark paint. He'd been laying in a concealed position, watching across a moonlit expanse in the trees. His one good arm held a pistol.

  Alden started to scramble away, but Viper grabbed one of his ankles.

  "No, stop, I have to get away from here—" Alden stammered. He was practically begging at this point. Anything to let him keep running.

  "Be quiet."

  "Let me go!" Alden shouted.

  "Kid, shut the fuck up!" Viper snapped under his breath. It was too late.

  A pile of loose twigs and branches in the center of the moonlit area began to rise up from the floor, as if the ground itself were erupting underneath them. A hulking, faceless golem slowly emerged. Silently, it rotated on the pillar of material where its legs should have been, and it began to slide toward them.

  "Shit." Viper clicked a small cord that was attached to his hand in the sling. "Weapons green."

  A rifle crack echoed through the forest. The golem's torso was flung violently to the side. It toppled over—but only seconds later, it was already pulling itself back up.

  Viper scrambled to his feet. "Goddamnit."

  "I'm sorry," Alden sputtered. He watched the golem warily as it approached. "We can just run though, right?"

  "Can't run forever. I was tryin' to get the actual owner of these fuckers," Viper spat. He thumbed his radio again. "Lure it to two-one-zero and blow it."