Rustkiller - A Science Fiction Western Adventure (The Coilhunter Chronicles Book 2) Page 10

  When they reached the corner, Luke looked back again. His father always told him not to do that, but his mother said looking back was how you stopped making the same mistakes. It was how you learned from history. He saw the construct staring at its half-emptied nest. Then it opened a little door on the front of its torso and pulled out a little bucket of green paint and a small brush. It didn't have a mouth, so it painted a frown on its box-shaped head. It turned to look at them, and it no longer seemed threatening. It just looked sad.

  “Wait,” Luke said. He wondered if the creature thought of those bits of metal as its children. It made Luke feel really bad.

  “Come on, Luke!” Laura called. “We don't have time for this.”

  If the Coilhunter wasn't in danger, Luke might've stayed, and might've tried to understand this strange creature. His mother said they could be understood. But where was she? Was she just another bit of scrap in one of their nests?

  Laura grabbed him by the arm and led him off. They headed back to the arena, where the Iron Gunslinger was again on top of the Coilhunter, now trying to rip off his helmet—or perhaps his head.

  The kids ducked behind another pile of rubble. Laura flicked open the barrel.

  “Two bullets,” she whispered. She knew guns as well as Luke knew pencils. He was glad she was the one making the shot. He knew he'd probably miss.

  “Well, what are ya waitin' for?” Luke asked. “Shoot!”

  “I can't waste them,” Laura said. She peeked out over the debris. Luke joined her, clutching the battered owl in his arms.

  “It's there,” Luke said. “Shoot it.”

  But Laura wasn't looking for the Iron Gunslinger. She was looking for the holes inside its frame, where the Coilhunter's previous bullets hadn't seemed to have had an effect. Two more random holes wouldn't stop it.

  “It's killin' him!” Luke cried. “Shoot!”

  So Laura aimed the gun, propping it up against the rubble. It was big, far bigger than she'd held before, and way too big for her frame. She knew the recoil would be bad. She only hoped the wound would be worse.

  She fired.

  The bullet whizzed straight towards the construct's neck, tearing through some of the wires. If that were a human, its head would've been hanging off—and it'd be dead. But it wasn't. It looked up at her, and so did Nox.

  “The heart!” he shouted.

  The Iron Gunslinger tried to charge at Laura, but Nox pulled it back, then pulled at the plating around its chest. If she fired then, it might've got his hand. That didn't matter, so long as it got the creature's heart.

  She aimed again.

  “This is it,” she whispered.

  Luke held his breath and prayed.

  Then, just as Laura clicked the trigger, something knocked into the back of her. She slipped, and the bullet shot into the sky. She grunted and turned to see the little frowning construct parked behind them, its frown even bigger than before.

  33 – NO LEAD IN THE BARREL

  “You little sandsucker!” Laura roared, striking the construct with the butt of the gun. “You ruined it! You ruined it!” If she had another bullet, she might've fired at it instead.

  But she didn't.

  She was out.

  And the Coilhunter's time was following quick.

  Luke peeked out at the battle, where it seemed that Nox knew it was all falling apart. He couldn't even get the words out he wanted to speak. The Iron Gunslinger had him firmly by the throat. His eyes said enough though: Get outta here! Run! Don't look back.

  “Come on,” Laura said, grabbing Luke by the arm. “We have to go.”

  “We're not leavin' him here.”

  “We have to.”

  “We don't. We can … do somethin'. Please.”

  They argued and tugged at each other, until Luke dropped the battered owl. The little rolling construct looked at them and rubbed off its smile with a paint-stained cloth, before splashing on another frown. They barely noticed it in the heat of the moment. They barely even saw it roll away. They paid no attention to where it went.

  * * *

  The little construct skirted around the edge of the battle, hugging the walls. At times, when the Coilhunter and Iron Gunslinger rolled close, it froze, and tried to appear like part of its surroundings. Other times its head ducked inside its torso, and it shuddered.

  It continued on, through the passages the others had came from, back to where the river of oil led like breadcrumbs up to the monowheel laying on its side. The construct rolled up to it, then circled it, then tapped it gently with its clamp-like claw. It often did this, because even it was unsure what was just junk or another sleeping construct.

  The monowheel didn't budge. The shape of it reminded the construct of another clockwork being it knew, and it cocked its head to see if maybe it was a relative. It was hard to tell.

  It paused, hearing the ticking of its own brain and heart. Those ticks were slowing down. It didn't know how the constructs of flesh felt, but it seemed like they knew fear. It seemed like they knew it better when they were dying.

  The construct wiped the paint off its face and left it blank. The little tub of paint inside its torso was running out too. It was a guessing game which would go first. It didn't like to guess.

  It darted around the area, collecting bits of useful scrap. Another day, it would have added some of these to its nest. That empty nest. If it could sigh, it would've sighed. It saw the constructs of flesh do it often.

  The most useful find was a coil of wire, which it clipped into several lengths. It tied several of these around pipes and hooks on the side of the monowheel, and fixed the other ends to the battered hull of a landship that was half submerged in the sand. It attached some cogs, a crank, and a lever, wrapping some of the wire around, until finally it could get to work.

  It pulled the lever, and the cogs rotated one place. All the wires went taut, and the monowheel creaked as it raised a little. It tried again, and it came up more. And again, until the vehicle was upright, resting upon its wide landship treads.

  That was part one done, and it was the easy part. The harder part would be getting the two gunslingers to bring their battle here.

  34 – FISTS AND EYES

  Nox continued his struggle, but it shouldn't have been a struggle. He had prepared for this, even if he hadn't had the time he really needed. But it didn't matter. The Clockwork Commune was designed to adapt, and they were adapting fast. He'd barely come up with a plan before their emissary, the Iron Gunslinger, already had a counter for it. That meant Nox needed to adapt as well.

  He saw the kids return, hiding behind a barrier. The girl fired, but the shot missed. Something else was happening back there, but he couldn't see it. His eyes were fixed on the red glare of the Iron Gunslinger's.

  So he ripped some of them out. While it was strangling him, slowly crushing the reinforced armour around his neck, Nox decided not to try to pull the claws away. He didn't have the strength to match the construct. He had to use guile instead.

  That glare gave him an idea.

  So he reached up to the creature's face, where he'd already left some bullet holes, and yanked the one remaining eye free, exposing the wires beneath. The construct tried to shake off his hands, then took one of its own away from Nox's throat to swat at the Coilhunter's gloves.

  It missed.

  Without those eyes on its head, it was harder to see. It should've been impossible, but it still had more eyes dotted throughout its body. Some of them opened now for the first time. Maybe they were backups. Nox would blot them out just the same.

  He reached for one, then quickly switched and grabbed another. Feints weren't just for gunfights. You could use them in a fistfight with a construct as well. He plucked the eye out, then went for the first one again, then pretended to go for another, before returning to yank that first one out as well. The Iron Gunslinger scrambled to grab Nox's arm, but he flitted away like a butterfly.

  So it realised that a
pproach was fruitless, and it adapted.

  It returned both hands to Nox's throat, squeezing with greater ferocity. Nox could already feel the steel rubbing against his skin. It was only a matter of time before he felt it against the bone as well.

  Nox kept tearing out those eyes, one by one, but the creature no longer needed to see. It only needed to keep its hands pressed against his neck, and keep on pressing. But what it didn't know was that the Coilhunter had already resigned himself to his fate. He wasn't plucking out those eyes for his sake. He was doing it so the construct couldn't see Luke and Laura, so it couldn't get its hands on their throats too.

  And it was working.

  Until he couldn't reach the other eyes. The construct had them not just on its arms and torso, but on its legs. There were three more, two of them just centimetres out of reach, one about an inch. He stretched, tipping the iris of one.

  The armour around his neck buckled. He felt it dig into his neck, restricting the air flow. He gasped and wheezed. Time was running out quick now.

  Then, just as his consciousness started to fade, he saw a little construct roll up beside them. Both Nox and the Iron Gunslinger looked at it, bemused. Then the creature plucked the cover off the Coilhunter's wrist pad. He hadn't the strength to fight it off. It was hopeless. Even the little ones were shedding his armour.

  It pulled out a wire, which Nox thought it might try to strangle him with too. The Iron Gunslinger ignored it, as if it was nothing more than a fly. Right up until it shoved the wire into one of its open eye sockets, where it connected with the wires inside.

  It sparked, and the Iron Gunslinger roared.

  Its grip loosened, and then it hobbled back, striking the smaller construct and knocking it to the side. Nox yanked one of the metal platings around his neck free, then took a deep, gasping breath. He scrambled up, stumbling on the spot.

  Then he watched the Iron Gunslinger charge at the little construct, and he knew they were not on the same side at all.

  35 – TWO CONSTRUCTS AND ONE WHEEL

  The little construct pushed itself upright and spun around. It seemed almost to be taunting its much larger cousin. To dispel any doubt, it picked up a metal bar and tossed it at the Iron Gunslinger. That got its attention. The monstrous creature trudged after it, then halted to look back at the Coilhunter, who wavered on the spot. Then the little construct threw another object, and the Iron Gunslinger renewed its pursuit. You'd think Nox was the bigger threat, but right now he didn't feel like it.

  He followed, slow and cautious. It wasn't like he could go quick. He could barely stand. Anyone else might have limped away. But Nox wasn't just curious. He had a feeling the little construct wasn't just playing cat and mouse.

  They entered the area where the monowheel was, and the Coilhunter paused. The little construct gestured towards the vehicle, which was propped up with wires. The Iron Gunslinger stopped too, studying this new threat.

  Nox didn't give it much time to study. He bashed the controls on his wristpad, firing up the engine. He knew there wasn't much fuel in it, so he had to act quick. He turned the wheel on, which scraped against the ground, jamming against some debris. It finally dislodged the junk, sending it flying behind, and the wheel spun madly, straining the wires.

  The Iron Gunslinger had its arms out, ready to draw. But it had no guns.

  The little construct snipped the wires with its pincers, and the monowheel sprang forward, darting across the ground and slamming into the Iron Gunslinger. It knocked the construct back, throwing it into one of the scrapyard walls. Debris tumbled down on it, pinning it in place.

  Then the Coilhunter drove the monowheel back, realigned it, and climbed on board. He heard it creak beneath his weight. It was probably a good thing he'd lost some of his armour. He wasn't entirely sure how long it would hold, or how long the fuel would last.

  He drove on, spotting Laura and Luke coming around the corner.

  “Get on!” he shouted, skidding up beside them.

  They clambered into the box on the back, barely getting one leg in before he drove off again.

  Then they heard the sound of crashing steel. When they looked back, they saw the little construct zig-zagging after them, its tiny arms in the air. It had taken the time to paint a little O on its face, which they took for shock or fear.

  Then the Iron Gunslinger stomped out, but it didn't come alone. The rubble that had tumbled down upon it contained other little constructs, which now clambered about its body, fusing themselves into all the cracks and crevices, giving it extra strength, and extra eyes. All of them settled on the monowheel. Now it had one target, but could kill all three of them.

  It charged, crushing the earth beneath its now heavier feet, leaving giant prints behind. The ground shuddered as it moved, forcing the kids to hold on tighter. More scrap avalanched down on all sides, and some of it scurried after the Iron Gunslinger to fill in more of the gaps.

  The monowheel stuttered and coughed. A dark smoke came out of the exhaust, like the one that came out of the Coilhunter's mask.

  “We need fuel,” he said.

  Laura pulled the second canister from the side of the box.

  “Where do I put it?”

  Luke pointed to the oil-covered lid on the fuel tank. “In there, in there!” He grunted as he tried to unscrew it. The lid slipped out of his hands, but it was lucky he didn't slip out of the box with it. He tried to grab onto one of the metal bars running around the side, but his hands slipped. He shrieked as he tumbled forward, but Nox reached back, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him back into place.

  All the while, Laura tried to fill up the tank, but with all the bumps and tremors, she ended up pouring half the oil down the side instead. The little rolling construct skidded on some of the spillage, then dodged the rest, trying its best to keep up with them.

  “Steady,” she begged, but she probably should've prayed. Even then, she would've had to pray to the machine spirits, and right now it seemed they were animating every bit of scrap metal in the area.

  “That's enough,” Nox said, accelerating. “Throw the canister.”

  The girl launched it at the pursuing construct, as if it might somehow slow it down. Then, before it hit the ground, the remaining diesel sloshing around inside it, Nox turned back swiftly, stood up, and pulled a rifle from the side of the monowheel. He fired, and the bullet pierced the canister, causing a massive explosion just as the Iron Gunslinger ran into it. The force of the blast tore parts of it off, casting aside many of the smaller creatures that had assembled to repair it. It fell to one knee, then got back up, limping forward. Any surviving constructs crawled or rolled towards it.

  “It's still comin'!” Luke screamed.

  “Hang on,” Nox said, barely giving them time to do it before he turned sharply. He headed towards one of the walls.

  “What're you doing?” Laura cried.

  “Trust me.”

  He could tell they closed their eyes. He almost did the same.

  But just as they almost collided, and the Iron Gunslinger was almost upon them, he leant down hard to the right, enough for his entire seat to tilt with him, forcing the wheel to turn as sharply as ever. It pinged off the side of the wall, before blasting off again.

  The Iron Gunslinger couldn't turn like that. Even with bits of it still hanging off, and other bits scrambling up its limbs, it trudged straight into the wall, causing the scrap to collapse down on top of it. It tried to struggle up and reached through the mess of things, but even its reaching arm was quickly buried by the seemingly endless fall of junk.

  But like so much else in the Rust Valley, it was all interconnected. What fell there caused other things to fall elsewhere. Nox drove alongside the tumbling debris, which quickly formed a new wall, one much closer, yet almost as high as the last. He darted under the collapsing barriers, skidding past falling girders, narrowly missing engines that rolled like boulders down the metal mountains.

  When it ended, Nox
halted the monowheel, but not by choice. There was nowhere left to go. The tumbling scrap had sealed off all the passages on either side. The walls had moved, pinning them in a small clearing, while beyond those barriers the Rust Valley continued to conspire against them.

  36 – A PRISON OF PIPE AND WIRE

  Nox clambered off the monowheel, stumbled for a moment, then slumped to the ground. The kids jumped out after him and tried to help him up, but the best they could do was roll him around onto his back.

  “I'm all right,” he croaked, waving his hand dismissively.

  “You don't look all right,” Luke said.

  “Why, shucks.” Nox grunted as he pushed himself up onto one arm. “Better stick to your drawings, boy. Ya ain't got the manners for a nurse.” He coughed, and felt blood splatter against the inside of his mask. He was glad the kids couldn't see it.

  Luke might've frowned if he didn't have so much worry in his eyes. Nox barely realised the boy was clutching his arm tightly. Even wild little Aaron never did that—and he'd never do it now.

  “You need to rest,” Laura said, taking her neckerchief to wipe away some of the blood on the Coilhunter's forehead. It'd been rolling into his eyes, blocking his vision. He supposed that was the Iron Gunslinger's slow-release revenge. Nox didn't have any spares.

  “We ain't got time for rest,” Nox said. “They'll be back here.”

  “Well, you ain't any good dead,” Laura said.

  Luke shook his head while pouting. Nox never met a child who could pout as much as that boy. Words could do wonders, but there was nothing like a sullen face to play with your heartstrings.