semblance of routine.
The only thing was, I was probably going to die before any of that happened.
Chapter 18
After getting the guns back, we left Oasis at dawn by the north gate past all the fields. On our way, we passed wheat and corn stalks, half withered by the harsh, dry environment. It was a wonder that anything at all could grow out here.
Then, we were out in the Waste again, heading northeast to Cold Mountain, a shadowy mass in the distance. It was surrounded by smaller mountains. I wondered how we’d find Bunker 114 in that entire thing.
It was still dark, and we saw no hint of the sun until a golden glow shone above the eastern mountains. The desert floor was bathed in a vibrant, orange hue.
On the way, Makara handed me my gun.
We stopped for a short break so I could get to know it better. It was a Beretta handgun. It looked at least fifty years old, but it had a lot of character. It had many scratches and scuffs from the years, and the design was sleek and round.
Makara took a moment to show me how to use it. She took out the magazine. Fully loaded, it contained seventeen rounds. Makara showed me two boxes of 9mm rounds in the pack. The two boxes each contained a hundred rounds. I had plenty of ammo as long as I didn’t get too trigger happy.
When I latched the holster onto my belt, words cannot describe how much more secure I felt.
We walked on.
“How far do you think it is?” I asked.
“Ten miles or so,” Makara said. “It’s still morning, so we’re making good progress.”
As the sun rose higher in the sky, the mountain appeared to get a little closer. It wouldn’t be long, now.
We walked on at a fast pace the rest of the day. By late afternoon, we had entered the foothills of Cold Mountain. It rose up in front of us like a giant tooth, wicked looking. It had a long, pointed top, like a spire. It was hard to see the top, as it was mostly lost in reddish haze.
I noticed something else, too, as we drew closer. The sides of the mountain were purple, pink, and burnt orange.
“What is that?” I asked.
We both stopped to look at it. It was clear that the color was unnatural. Multicolored layers of something toppled down the mountain in frozen waves. It looked alive.
“A Blight,” Makara said. “No wonder that patrol did not come back.”
“Are they always dangerous?”
“I’ve never seen one this big,” she said. “It’s taking up the whole mountain. You never know what kind of things you can run into in a Blight.”
“Monsters?”
“Just be ready. Shoot anything that moves.”
We were almost to the northern face of Cold Mountain. Nothing had jumped out at us, yet, but being in my first Blight was a nerve-wrecking experience. The entire ground was coated in a thick, sticky purple and pink substance. This, I knew, was xenofungus. I had only seen samples in my father’s lab. To see miles upon miles of it was surreal and frightening. It squished as we walked on it.
Pillars, maybe ten to twenty feet tall, rose from the purple stuff in organic towers. They appeared to be spawned by the stuff on the ground, and had massive, bell shaped openings that dripped pink slime. The slime flowed downhill, pushed along by the fungus. It collected toward the end of the Blight. It might have been the way the fungus spread ever outward.
We worked our way through the towers and spongy ground. It was late afternoon by now. We had found no Bunker entrance, so far. But I knew we would have to find it quick. Getting caught out here at night was a terrifying thought.
We turned the corner of the mountain to find ourselves on its northern face. The entire side was covered with purple and pink grime. It glowed from the hazy, setting sun, and clouds of insects swarmed near the towers. Right in the middle of it all was a gaping maw, black, lost in shadow.
“That looks promising,” Makara said.
“Like the mouth of a beast.”
“If there’s any entrance, that will be it. Come on. It’s not far.”
As we crossed the purple field, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched. I looked around, but saw nothing.
“I have a feeling something is watching us…” I said.
Makara stopped. “I don’t feel anything…”
I turned around. I could see nothing but multicolored miles of Blight, spreading in all directions.
When I turned around again, they were right in front of us.
Two dog-like creatures, completely hairless, were kneeling in front of Makara. In tandem they pounced on her, and she fell backward. She screamed, dropping her gun. Their jaws snapped, closer to her neck. She elbowed one in the head.
I ran forward, pulling out my Beretta. I fired at the one about to finish Makara. Two bullets plowed into the head. The thing yelped and went slack, purple goo oozing from the wounds.
The other monster snarled as it turned to face me. I fired several times, the bullets tearing into its chest and front legs. I couldn’t get a steady shot.
It gave a shrill shriek as it lunged for me. It had me on the ground against the slimy fungus. Its completely white eyes bored into mine. I could feel the drool dripping on my neck, stinging on contact.
Another gunshot. I felt the creature’s weight collapse onto me. I pushed it off in a panic, and reached for my neck, wiping the drool off with my hands.
“Wash it off,” Makara said, handing me her water bottle.
“Thanks.”
Makara was still recovering her breath. “Thanks, yourself. That was some shot. I would have been dead.”
“Same for you.”
I poured the water on my neck, wiping it dry with my shirt.
Makara looked at it closely. “The skin’s a bit red. But there’s no open wound. You’ll be fine.”
“Are we good to go, then?” I asked.
“Yes. We should have seen them coming. Unfortunately, they blend right in.”
We walked the rest of the way to the cave. We now stood in front of it. The air smelled cool and damp, and carried the faint smell of rot. It was hard not to feel like we were walking into some horrible creature’s mouth as we walked down the slope, into it.
When we were a good ways in, Makara retrieved a flashlight, and clicked it on.
In front of us were the dead bodies of the lost patrol.
“Oh no…” Makara said, rushing forward.
They were utterly mutilated. From head to toe, something really big had treated these people like rag dolls. A bloody head lay in a corner, surrounded by a ring of pink fungus that seemed to be feeding off it. The rest of the body parts had been gathered in a twisted, gory corpse pile.
Makara went toward it. I grabbed her by the hand.
“Are you crazy? Don’t go near that.”
Makara stopped. “You’re right. But he might be…”
Might? He probably was. But I wasn’t going to say that to Makara. The bodies were not just ripped up. They
