Gun Mage 3: Surviving a Post Apocalyptic Magic Earth Read online

  “Get Charles,” I told Freya as I tried to keep my voice even. “Make sure he’s awake.”

  The rabbit woman nodded as she leapt to her feet and moved soundlessly toward the ATV. I had to admire how even keeled she seemed at the moment, because I was starting to feel an edge of panic as the rancid odor blocked out everything else.

  “Sorcha,” I called loudly as I shook the Irish mage, as much to shake off my own sudden fear as to alert her to the danger.

  “What--” Sorcha started to ask as a low growl echoed through the length of the tunnel.

  The growl didn’t sound like any creature I had ever heard, and it sent a shiver of fear down my spine. I heard the horses and the oxen balk at the sound, and both of the caravan dogs started to bark. More people started to awaken at the noise, but whatever had growled was already in the tunnel. Even as I pulled the Colt from my pocket, someone let out a terrified scream that was suddenly cut off.

  There was a scramble to light firesticks, but I could just pick out something moving in the dark. One of the dogs lunged toward the figure and managed to clamp onto an arm, but the figure swung around and something that looked like an icicle glimmered briefly before it was plunged into the canine’s side. The dog held on for a moment longer before the figure dislodged the canine and kicked it away.

  I lifted the revolver and pointed it at the strange figure as it turned back toward the humans. In the enclosed space of the tunnel, the sound of the Colt was magnified tenfold. Throw in the boom of Darwin’s Mossberg shotgun as it fired as well, and every living thing in the tunnel was momentarily deafened.

  When I could hear again, I was greeted with a horrible screeching sound that promised a long and painful death. I fought the urge to cover my ears and tried to pick out more of the dark figures against the blackness of the tunnel, but all I could see were the shapes of our fellow travelers.

  Someone finally managed to light some of the firesticks, and a yellow light started to fill the area around the dead fire. Another screech filled the air, and I finally got a good look at the interlopers as the firesticks came to life. They were definitely mutants, with white fur over what I could see of their bodies, and bright gold eyes that peered at us from beneath black hoods. One of them raised a hand to shield its eyes in the sudden light, and I saw long talons where fingernails should have been. There was something unsettling about their appearance, though I couldn’t explain what. Like the scent and the sound, the mutants’ appearance was unnerving.

  “Where’s Jack?” someone called out in a frightened voice.

  There wasn’t time for anyone to respond, as more mutants appeared from the darkness and lunged toward the travelers. One of the hunters tried to fire an arrow, but I saw one of the mutants sink a claw into his throat, then start to drag the body back toward the mouth of the tunnel.

  I fired at the retreating mutant, even though it was hard to find a target in the uncertain light, and saw the creature fall forward. I started to fire at another mutant further down the tunnel, but I felt Sorcha grab my arm at that moment and I turned around again. I saw the Irishwoman scowl at one of the mutants, and the mage and the mutant stared at each other in intense concentration. I pointed the Colt and pulled the trigger, then grabbed Sorcha with my other arm as the bullet ripped through the mutant’s head. I heard her gasp as blood blossomed from the hole and brain matter flopped to the floor.

  The alarm was going off like crazy in my head, and it nearly drowned out the boom from the Mossberg. I saw another mutant tumble to the floor near the oxen and horses as blood sprayed across the wall and puddled across the old concrete. The horses stirred uneasily as the iron scent of the blood invaded their space, but I saw Freya place a calming hand on both animals as she scanned the darkness for more mutants.

  “Hex,” Sorcha whispered in a terrified tone. “These mutants have magic.”

  “I thought that wasn’t possible,” I replied as I spotted another mutant on top of one of the wagons.

  There wasn’t time to call out a warning. I pointed the Colt, one-handed since Sorcha still had a tight hold on the other arm, and fired off the last round just as the Mossberg boomed behind us. The mutant looked up at the sound of the guns firing and then spun backwards and fell from sight off the back of the wagon. The Colt disappeared as well, and I shook my head in frustration.

  “That’s what the mages always claimed,” Sorcha said a moment later as she nudged the mutant I had shot in the head. “But maybe that’s changed.”

  “They do say there’s some crazy stuff in the middle of the continent,” I replied quietly. “Maybe they came from there.”

  I hadn’t heard any more screeches, for which I was thankful, but the fetid stench remained. The odor made it hard to concentrate, even as I tried to picture the snub nose. Thankfully, my magic seemed to understand what I wanted despite the wretched smell and the Smith and Wesson was soon in my hand.

  I tried to pick out more shapes in the shadows as I peered into the darkness of the tunnel. It was already unnerving work, and the fact that we were battling something that couldn’t be wasn’t something I could properly process at the moment.

  “They still shouldn’t exist,” she insisted as she tugged on my arm again. “And now they’ve left. But how? I didn’t see a portal, did you?”

  I looked around and realized she was right. More of the firesticks were being lit, but the mutants had disappeared as quietly as they had appeared. The bodies were gone as well, not just of the mutants, but also those of the travelers they had killed. The only sign that they had been there was the blood that had splashed across the walls and floor of the tunnel.

  “What the hell?” the surviving hunter asked as he looked around.

  “What were those things?” someone else demanded. “Were they mutants?”

  “There must have been a dark mage with them,” the woman in the quilted coat said quietly. “How else did they get in and out of here?”

  “I didn’t see a portal,” the red headed man replied in a shaky voice. “Did anyone see a portal?”

  “How many people did we lose?” one of the wagoneers asked as he looked at his own people.

  After a quick count, we established that four of our fellow travelers and one dog were missing. It felt like a huge loss, but it would have been much worse without the guns, a fact that the others in the group only now seemed to realize. But a lifetime of being told to fear guns could not be overwritten by a single event, even if we had just saved everyone from mutant mages.

  “Hey, where did you guys get those?” the remaining hunter asked as he took in the snub nose and the Mossberg. There was both fear and awe in his voice, and he looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to touch the guns or run away in terror.

  “I kept mine from my time as a state trooper,” Darwin snapped as he joined us. “And you should be glad I did.”

  “Guns, mutants, dark mages,” the woman in the quilted coat murmured. “I don’t know how tonight could get any worse.”

  “Well, there’s the fact that we can’t get out of here,” the red headed man replied as he peered at both ends of the tunnel. “I don’t know how those mutants got in here because the snow is still piled up outside.”

  “Oh, my god,” a young woman who was part of the wagon caravan declared, “we’re stuck in here until they come back for the rest of us. Then they’ll kill us all off one by one and eat us.”

  “Maybe they won’t come back,” the remaining hunter suggested. “Since we have the guns, and they know we can kill them.”

  “Then they’ll just keep us sealed in this tunnel until we die,” one of the other caravaners declared. “Or until we’re too weak to fight.”

  “I don’t want to die here,” a quiet voice murmured after a moment of silence.

  “Maybe we can dig our way out,” I suggested.

  “Depends on how much snow there is,” the red headed man mused as he stared toward the end of the tunnel.

  “It’s
risky,” Darwin added. “It could collapse on us and trap us in the snow if we aren’t careful.”

  “Better to die that way than eaten by a mutant,” someone muttered.

  Darwin, the red headed man, Sorcha, and I walked toward one end of the tunnel and started to dig, just to see if we could get a sense of how thick the snow was. We created a small crater about three feet deep and still didn’t find the end of the snow.

  “I don’t suppose your gun would be much use here?” the red headed man asked, though he seemed certain the answer would be no.

  “Nope,” Darwin replied. “We need something that will push all this snow out of the way.”

  “What about that C-4?” I asked.

  “That would move the snow,” Darwin agreed, “and half the tunnel would probably come down with it.”

  “I don’t know what see-four is, but I would veto that suggestion,” the red headed man replied.

  “There’s really only one thing we can try,” Darwin sighed.

  “The ATV,” Sorcha guessed.

  “I think there’s enough power, though a couple of folks might have to help push,” Darwin replied. “And it will need to create an opening tall enough that we can probably get the horses and oxen through without any problems.”

  “Let’s try it,” I replied. “Before those things come back.”

  Darwin nodded, and the four of us returned to the rest of the group. While Darwin started the engine of the ATV and rolled it into position, the red headed man explained what we wanted to do. After a bit of cajoling, the wagon team started to move the oxen back into their traces while Sorcha and I steadied the horses.

  “We’re set, gramps!” Freya called out over the hum of the engine once the oxen were yoked.

  Darwin held up a fist to show he’d heard her, then eased the ATV forward until it was against the snow. The pitch of the engine shot up an octave or two, and then the ATV started to push forward. For a moment, it seemed that the snow might win, but the engine whined again, and the ATV began to punch through.

  As soon as the ATV cleared the last of the snow, another cold blast of wind swept inside the tunnel. But this one smelled clean and crisp and carried the sound of an owl calling to its mate. A few chunks of snow fell from the roof of our new snow shaft, but it held long enough for everyone to squeeze through. It was a tight fit for the wagons and the oxen were less than happy, but they seemed to understand that staying in the tunnel was worse.

  Once outside, everyone took a deep breath then peered around into the darkness. Even in the moonlight, it was obvious there were no tracks in the snow to show where the mutants had come from or where they might be heading. After a few muted congratulations, we all stared at each other for a moment.

  “I guess we’ll keep moving,” the woman in the quilted coat commented. “We can make it to the next town by daybreak.”

  “You’re welcome to come with us,” one of the wagoneers offered to the woman.

  “If anyone else is heading west, they can come with us,” I also offered.

  That led to a lot of shuffling in the snow, and more than a few concerned looks were cast at the guns. Only the hunter seemed interested, but even he finally shook his head and looked out over the valley.

  “I need to get home,” the hunter declared. “And I need to tell them what happened, though I’m not sure anyone will believe me.”

  “We’ll need to alert the nearest mage,” the red headed man added with a note of regret. “The Magesterium will need to send someone who can deal with these creatures.”

  “Makes sense,” I agreed, even though I knew the man would probably end up telling them about our guns. “Well, good luck to you all.”

  “And to you,” the red headed man offered. “Listen, there aren’t a whole lot of towns between here and Scranton-Barre, but I’d try to make it to Pontius by nightfall. It’s big enough to offer some entertainment, and they generally welcome strangers. Some of the smaller towns can be less than welcoming for travelers they haven’t seen before.”

  “We’ll keep that in mind,” I replied as we shook hands.

  The groups slowly split apart after that as we trudged down the hill in the wake of the ATV and found the road once again. We were the only ones to turn west, and soon the only sounds in the cold air were the engine and the jingle of the reins. Only Darwin rode as he pushed the ATV onward ahead of us. The rest of us walked next to the horses, who still reacted nervously to every sound and movement. Happily, the magic that had created the snow storm was limited in its reach, and a couple of miles down the road we were free of the dense snow and back to the lighter snowfall from earlier in the day.

  I slowed down a bit and let Freya and the horses move ahead of us. I placed a hand on Sorcha’s arm, and after a glance at my expression, she slowed down as well.

  “Should we have warned those other travelers?” I pondered once Freya and the horses were close to the ATV. “They could have told the mage at the next town that there are mutant mages on the loose.”

  “What, and create more panic?” Sorcha asked. “Besides, I doubt anyone would believe that mutant mages exist, not even the Magesterium. I just saw them with my own eyes, and I’m still not sure I believe they exist.”

  “Why is the Magesterium so certain they can’t exist?” I asked. “If Darwin is right, then mages are just mutants as well.”

  Sorcha was quiet for several moments as she considered what I had just said. She looked miffed at first at the suggestion that she was herself a mutant, but then I saw her glance toward Freya, and her gaze became more speculative.

  “Maybe Darwin’s right, and we’re all just mutants of one type or another,” she sighed. “It’s not like there were bunny women or fire mages before the meteorite. But admitting that would be a problem for the Magesterium.”

  I thought about that for a moment, then nodded. The Magesterium had built their empire on the idea that they had saved the world with their gifts and that they were the only ones who could keep it from falling apart. But if their gifts were little more than mutations, like those they derided, then a lot of people might start asking what made them so different from the rest of the mutants. And if they weren’t that different from the rest of the mutants, then why trust anything the mages had to say?

  “Have you ever heard of mutant mages before?” I asked as I flashed back to the creatures I had seen in the tunnel. Even that was enough to give me the creeps as I remembered the stench, the inhuman sounds, and the cold stares that promised a horrible death.

  “No, not even among my fellow… insurgents,” the Irishwoman replied. “I’m sure if anyone had encountered one before now, they would have told the rest of us.”

  “I wonder where they came from,” I mused. “And why did they all look alike? Isn’t it weird to find a whole bunch of mutants with the exact same mutation?”

  “It’s definitely unusual,” Sorcha agreed. “I mean, there will be other rabbit mutants in the world, like Freya, but they’re scattered around the globe. Freya could have spent her whole life in Camden and never encountered another rabbit mutant. Maybe someone brought them all together?”

  “That’s an even scarier thought,” I said as I glanced over my shoulder. “Why would anyone gather together a group of mutant mages?”

  “I don’t know,” Sorcha admitted. “And honestly, I can’t think of one good reason to do so.”

  We walked along in silence for a bit as we considered the possibility that the mutant mages had been brought together. Or, even scarier, had somehow managed to organize themselves into a group. I grasped the Glock for a moment, just to reassure myself it was still there and to remind myself that I had the best defense against a mage, mutant or not, that anyone could ask for.

  The sky had just started to lighten when I heard the engine on the ATV sputter and cough. Darwin pulled off the road, and we could hear him curse as a small cloud of smoke started to rise from the engine.

  “Gramps?” Freya asked a
s she approached the ATV.

  Darwin had the engine cover open by then, and I could hear him as he poked and prodded at the engine. Another cloud of smoke plumed up, and Darwin started to cough. He stepped back from the ATV and peered at the three of us.

  “Sorry, Freya,” the ex-trooper sighed. “But plowing through all that snow was too much for this old girl, and I’m not going to be able to fix her with what I have. Maybe if there was a place nearby where I could pick up what I needed, but unless we find an old AutoZone that still has parts on its shelves, I’m afraid that’s it for the ATV.”

  “Let’s move what we can to the horses, then,” I suggested. “We’ll just have to walk until we can pick up mounts for everyone and figure out another way to haul our gear.”

  Darwin nodded, then patted the sturdy ATV one more time.

  “Well, we won’t need the ATV supplies any more,” Freya noted as she pulled back the tarp. “That should save us some weight.”

  Darwin joined us as we started to pick through the items in the back of the vehicle. At the end, we left the vegetable oil that had been the fuel for the ATV, as well as a tire repair kit, and a box of items that Darwin said we wouldn’t need without an engine. The rest was transferred to the horses, except for the Winchester rifle, which Darwin kept in his hands, and the original Glock which Freya tucked into her waistband after returning my version of the gun to me.

  With the gear spread between the two horses, we started to plod along the road again. No one spoke for quite some time until both Sorcha and Freya stopped and looked around.

  “What is it?” Darwin asked suspiciously as he fingered the Winchester rifle he carried.

  “Wolves,” Freya responded.

  A moment later, I caught my first glimpse of the rabbit ears she kept hidden from the rest of the world. Two long ears, in the tawny brown of a wild hare, swiveled straight up from the side of her head, then turned a few degrees in both directions.

  “They’re following us,” Freya added.