The Wild Beasts of Anthony Mannis
Chapter 19

“I remember the skydrone’s spotlights. They were beaming everywhere, the false white light that the Borges love to use. They were huntin’ for yer brotha, I knew, and so after I left ya I ran t’ya Ma’s house fast as I could—not that there was much I could do against all those Spectre Men and SSI. And boy! That drawling voice on the loudspeakers! It was drivin’ me crazy!

“I got to yer backyard right as the Borges were makin’ to leave. They had grabbed yer brotha and yer Ma and thrown them in a battlewagon. I raised my rifle, ready to shoot…and froze.

“They had taken alla the kids, suspectin’ that each of ’em could be an invoker; and their parents as well. Anyone who resisted was beaten bloody and thrown onboard. I figured there were only three options. First: I shoot, they catch me, I get thrown onboard and taken ta Grabam’s Hold. Second: I shoot, they don’t catch me, they raze the town until they replace me and I get thrown onboard and taken ta Grabam’s Hold. Third: I don’t shoot, but I follow them. Round up some more men and bide our time, waiting to strike.

“So that’s what I did. As soon as they rolled out of town, I got together some ex-OZM and some Tzolkhan and we horsed up and headed out after them. We know Hoemba so well we could move in the dark—and we stayed on their trail for days.

“Slowly the convoy began to break apart: the East Rangers and Spectre Teams, havin’ answered the call for a raid, went back ta their forest posts. The skydrones went back ta their patrol routes. That was our chance.

“Our assault was carried out the next day, as the trucks made their way towards Melville. It was simple, but effective. We had rolled a tree trunk across the road, sideways like, so it looked like it fell down. When the truck stopped, we dropped another log behind it. The drivers were just PSOs and yielded as soon as we pointed guns at ’em. The Spectre Team that were guards had a bit of fight in ’em, but we outnumbered ’em and took ’em down. Railguns don’t work so well against regular folk—that seven-second charge time is killa.

“We got the villagers out, including yer Ma—but there was no Munroe. I don’t know how, but he had been carted off separately and slipped past us. Still, a pretty good haul overall. We dove inta the forest, making sure ta cover our tracks. Not even Raffick himself coulda been able ta follow us! When we got ta the outskirts of Melville we split up into groups as ta not draw attention, and went into town a group at a time. I made sure yer Ma stayed with me. And would ya believe the gossip that was going round!

“Word on the street was that a powerful invoker was making their way through the forest. He had fought countless rangers, defeated a colossus terrorizing Lanaya, and broken out of PSO Headquarters in town—some locals were claiming to have seen the great escape. Some even said that he rescued the convoy of Mint Village prisoners! It’s the beginning of a revolution, they whispered, the OZM are coming back. Hector is reborn.

“Yer ma knew it was you, and wanted to go ta ya right away. That was not possible, for now we’re fugitives in alla the forest. We made our way instead ta OZM territory in Ocean Zone, and once yer ma was safe I came back ta help Oaktown rebel…and here we are.

“Now, I know what yer thinking,” Darius said, raising his hands in mock defense, “and yer ma is well-protected in a solid compound with a good friend of mine. It is my intention ta go back ta her as soon as I am able.”

Anthony took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling as he processed all that he had heard. He drummed his fingers on the table, took a sip of water, and cleared his throat loudly.

“So Munroe knows that Ma got kidnapped, but not by who. The Borges are using that to fuel his rampage and accomplish their own agenda.”

Darius shrugged. “Sounds about right. They could tell ’im the OZM nabbed her (and they’d be right) and he’d come storming afta us.”

“But you’re the good guys.”

“Not in their eyes. And if they brainwashed ’im like they do ta the other SSI, he’ll hate us already, even if yer pops was an OZM captain. But it seems like right now they want ta use him to get ta ya.”

“So what’s next?”

Darius leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “Next? Let me tell ya…”

#

Midway through Darius’ story, Philip had put the spatula down and gone outside. He had heard it before, and was more interested in something else. He found her in a fenced enclosure, filling a log some thirty-odd yards away with arrows. Her breath was small puffs in the crisp morning air.

“What do you want,” she snapped. Zip, went an arrow angrily, thud it hit the target.

Philip leaned back on the enclosure’s fence and watched her loose a few more, each one replaceing the mark. Zip. Thud.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve only seen you use that bow a few times, yet you seem to have mastered it in days, where it would take other people years.”

“You sound like my mother.” Hayley blew a wisp of hair out of her eye as she sighted her target. “That’s what she would say whenever she showed me something new. ’It took me months to master that move, but you learned it in a week.’ Stuff like that.”

Zip. Thud.

“I dunno, I just, it clicks in my head.” She waved her hand around emphatically, as if it would provide explanation for her. “I see someone do something—stringing a bow, or a backflip—and I can copy it no problem.”

“You’re a savant,” Philip remarked.

“Yea, whatever. Put a label on it if it makes you feel good. Maybe I just learn better. Maybe everyone else sucks.”

Zip. Thud.

Philip pulled out the large ranger revolver he kept holstered with him. He thought back to their hunting trip with the Tzolkhan, when the warriors went with knives and spears against Spectre Men with body armor, riot shields, and electric batons. He remembered their battle outside Oaktown—the napalm, battlewagons, and the sweeper that dove in at the end to take Raffick, The Jester, and Munroe away.

“Such a divide in technology,” he said aloud, “They get so much and we have so little.”

Hayley glanced at him.

“They kidnap our inventors and make us work for them. They try to keep us from reading and imagining. They want us in the dark, to feel like a lower species, incapable of coming up with new ideas or ever implementing them.”

Zip. Thud.

“Hayley,” Philip said suddenly, “why don’t you ever use a gun?”

“No guns,” Hayley’s eyes slitted dangerously and sparked in the early morning sun. “My father was an artist. He made armor to keep people alive. My mother was an artist. She could make soldiers surrender without shedding blood, and look them in the eye when she had to.

“I know how to disassemble, reassemble, clean, load, and shoot a gun. It is too easy. It is not an art. It is anti-art. It is Death.”

She pulled hard on the next arrow and it went way off the mark. Her hands were trembling. “Death comes too easy.”

“You’re full of anger.”

“Screw you.”

“It may cause you to make bad decisions.”

Hayley whirled to face him, straw jacket fluttering. “I know what you’re talking about. It won’t happen. Anthony’s my friend. You’re my friend. I’d die for either one of you.”

“Very dramatic,” said Philip dryly. He turned the revolver around in his hands. Though it was a skillful piece of craftsmanship, it was becoming uglier to him by the moment.

“Do you know why the Spectre Men use revolvers, when they could be using pulse rifles or disrupter pistols?”

Hayley shrugged.

“In the Second Uprising, OZM officers used revolvers in the field. These are powerful guns you know, you could tear a hole in someone so large you could stick two fingers through them. Still…they were no match against Borges laser technology. Now, six-shooters are standard issue for Spectre Men, the most elite soldiers in the Citadel Defense Force. It’s to remind Atosians that the most beautiful weapon the OZM had to offer paled in comparison to the full might of the Borges. They mock us.”

“Got it, the Borges have ’em for trophy reasons,” said Hayley impatiently, “What’s the point?”

Philip sighted down the revolver. “This isn’t a weapon of the Borges. It’s an honorable symbol of our people crafted by Atosian artists like your father. This…is the greatest weapon ever made.”

Hayley watched him as he played with the massive pistol in his hand. Though a small part of her thought he looked silly and unwieldy, the way he stood with the gun reminded her of a soldier. An OZM officer.

She stepped in close to him, fists balled, teeth clenched, her nose almost touching his. “You think I’m gonna fly off the handle and sell you to the Borges again.”

Philip stared sternly at her over his glasses but said nothing.

“Philip, I’ll never give you a reason to turn that gun on me. You don’t know how much grief I’ve given myself because of what I did. Every day I think about it.”

She stepped back and picked up her bow and arrow.

“Can I tell you something? When I got shot yesterday, you know what the first thing I thought was? I was thinking, ‘oh, good.’ Oh, good. I wanted to die. I was relieved. All the pressure was gone. I was as light as air. I’m sorry Papa. I’m sorry Mother. I’m sorry Anthony. I tried.”

Zip. Thud.

“The world is not that kind,” she concluded.

“The world is impartial.” Philip answered.

“Ass.” she said, with a sad smile. “I want to tell him, I do. He deserves that; he deserves to know. He deserves to make one of his big ol’ monsters and pummel me into the ground. He should, he should, he-should-he-should. But I wake up in the morning and the fire is out and the sun is shining and I see you guys sleeping next to me and I think about telling him and him getting mad and I think about how I don’t want you both to leave. Please don’t leave.”

Though her eyes were glassed fire and her teeth were clenched, her lower lip quavered. All of a sudden, Philip understood and he felt ashamed. She is lonely. Her parents were taken away, she watched grown men burn to death, and she wandered lonely for years, stealing and swindling and fighting. We are her family: when she finally meets people her age with whom she can laugh and play, she is divided between the debt of her old life and the love of her new one. Who am I to judge when she chooses wrong?

He hugged her, even though her jacket was rough and scratchy and her armor made him feel like he was hugging a beetle. She’s young, and I forget that because she is forced to act older.

She hugged back, her grip so strong it made him cough. Then he was off his feet and on the ground. Hayley stood over him grinning.

“You let me have double-underhooks.”

“What—”

“Race you to dinner!” she yelled, cartwheeling away.

This kid, he thought, dusting himself off. Always playing tough.

#

There were still bacon and eggs left when Hayley and Philip got back, and they wolfed the food down while Darius rolled after-meal cigars for Ikoa and himself.

“Not many of these left in the Zones, ya know,” he commented, smelling the cigar lovingly, “rationing and all that. I bet Papa Borges has got crates of them up in his castle.”

Anthony rapped his fingers impatiently on the table. “So when are we moving, Darius? I’m ready to go now.”

Darius breathed out a cloud of smoke, relaxed and full. “Patience, sonny. You’re part of a movement now. No more hidey-hole by day creep-along by night, tryna hide from the rangers.”

He sat up and leaned in. “This city has been reclaimed by the Ocean Zone Militia: we got rules now. We got a chain o’ command.”

“You’ll excuse us, but we’re not soldiers.” said Philip primly.

“No. Yer better,” exclaimed Darius, “y’all are heroes. Y’all will inspire the men!”

He pointed to Anthony. “Yer Hector reborn, the Son of the Forest, the boy who fought the SSI and won.”

He pointed to Hayley. “Yer an Avenging Angel, sworn to retribution. A valkyrie in this modern day and age.”

He pointed to Philip. “Yer uh, the brains behind the operation, able to replace the solution to a problem quickly, and uh, promptly.”

Anthony nudged Philip with his elbow. “Nice, dude.”

Hayley crossed her arms and slouched, eyes rolling. “What a load of crap. We ain’t no heroes. Me especially. And the last thing I need is a bunch of people knowing me and what I’m up to.”

“We do prefer to move a bit…undetected.” Philip agreed.

“Sure ya do,” said Darius coolly, “ya only set a field on fire yesterday after draggin’ a squad of Borges ta our front door.”

Hayley’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, old man.”

Darius raised his hands in apology, his arms big enough around to throw her through a window. “I understand. We can talk about this later.”

There was a knock at the door, and an OZM soldier came in—a young, angular woman sharply dressed in a pressed blue and brass uniform. The soldier looked at Darius, then the three companions.

Darius flicked ash off his cigar. “Why don’t ya kids take it easy today and explore around town tomorrow? Ya may see what it’s like to live free of Borges oppression.”

“Thanks for your permission,” Hayley scowled. She went up the stairs to the dormitories, Anthony behind her. Philip gave Darius and the soldiers an odd look, then followed his friends.

Darius watched them go upstairs, then turned to the soldier who had just come in. “Brennan, what’s the good word?”

“Free Crossing holds, but barely,” said the smartly-uniformed scout, “Borges have cordoned around them. They need a siege-buster, and soon. It’s only a matter of time before they say ‘screw it’ and activate the Dragonslayers.”

Darius tapped on his chin, thinking. “Hmmm. If they do that, then Free Crossing will turn on the wall cannons. There will be heavy casualties on both sides. We need ta hold The Line if our operations are to succeed.”

He shifted in his seat. “I didn’t want ta head back there this early, but it’s manageable. We can mobilize as early as tomorrow morning, wagons need ta be fueled and we need ta stock on ammo. We have a siege buster—in fact, I’m going ta head up to talk ta him now.”

#

Hayley eyed the uniformed man at the end of the hallway. He appeared to be whittling a jumping-jack, but she knew better. She winked at him as Anthony and Philip went through the door to their dormitory: a refurnished study, done over with three trundle beds and a fireplace—small but cozy.

“New boss same as the old boss, eh?” she said, throwing herself on one of the beds heavily.

“Darius is cool, Hayles. We’ve known him forever.” Anthony yawned. He reclined on one of the beds and idly grabbed at one of the study’s many books.

“I suppose you don’t mind that he posted a guard on our door then.”

“He’s got our best interest in mind,” said Philip.

“Does he?”

Anthony rolled over. “Ah, come off it, Haystack. Here, read me a bedtime story please?” He tossed her the book he had grabbed. It was titled A Beginner’s Introduction to Atosian Mythology.

“Nah,” Hayley’s eyes flitted, “I don’t feel like it. Get Philip to read it to ya.”

…A fully realized dragon is considered by many to be the pinnacle creation of an invoker. Both a colossus and crony, the flying behemoth can truly be a sight to behold. If one is ever seen, know that a truly powerful invoker is behind it…

There was a knock at their door, and Darius came in.

“Change of plans,” he announced. “We’re heading out ta Free Crossing at first light.”

Anthony sat up. “But you said we could see Oaktown tomorrow! What about the shepherd’s pie?”

“Another time. Besides, didn’t ya want to leave early? Ta see yer mother that ya haven’t seen in, how long? Didn’t ya want ta see her?”

“Well yes, but—”

“This is settled. Bunker down for the night kids, it’s going ta be a hell of a day tomorrow.”

The door closed with a solid thud and they heard Darius tromp heavily away.

“First he says we’re staying. Then he says we’re going. Go here, go there. Why does he get to make the decisions?” Anthony grumbled.

Hayley got up and stretched felinely. “That’s why I do my own thing. No one tells me what to do.”

“To be fair, Darius isn’t mistreating us or anything,” said Philip.

“Not mistreating no, but he’s treating us like we’re kids!” Anthony complained.

“Well…”

“Not just kids, Phil,” Hayley pointed out, “sure the door’s unlocked, but there’s a guard on it. And how Darius told us to bunker down? He basically means ‘don’t go anywhere.’ He sees us as assets for the OZM cause! To him, Anthony is a weapon, and Darius doesn’t want him to be unaccounted for.”

Philip shook his head. “That can’t be. We’re his friends, we known him.”

“War. Changes. People.” There was a fire in her eyes—the one she would never be able to forget; the one she saw when she slept.

“We are not at war.”

Hayley laughed, a screech. “We will be.”

She went to the window and popped it open creakily. The sounds of Oaktown night life came flooding in.

“What are you doing?” said Philip.

“Gonna get some shepherd’s pie. Anthony, you want in?”

“Sounds good to me!” Anthony got up and peered out of the third story window, glancing down the street in both directions mischievously. A columnar, lime-green beast that vaguely resembled a Saguaro cactus was waiting patiently outside, a palm the size of a flatbed extending toward them.

“You shouldn’t leave,” said Philip. “What will Darius think?”

Hayley smirked, one leg out the window. “He won’t know.”

“But—”

“Come on, Phil,” Anthony urged, “let’s see the city. It’s perfectly safe OZM territory now. There are no PSOs. We’ll be back before anyone notices.”

“But—”

“Man, are you goin’ to let us escape? Then what will Darius think?” Hayley put her foot down.

Philip sighed and went out the window with them. The beast lowered them to the ground, and promptly disappeared.