Chapter 82: Chapter 78

“Anthony!” A voice cut through the pleasant dream I had been having, dragging me from the scaled arms and coils I was wrapped in.

“Anthony! Why are all the towels dirty?” It rumbled across the campground, rattling the windows in my mud-crete house. I awoke fully and unrolled myself from the duvet, leaping to the window and gaping at what I saw.

“Anthony, I want a divorce!” The titan roared. A thirty foot scale model of Mr. Sada’s dead wife’s upper half towered beside his mansion in the nearby distance. She was as I had found her in the basement bathroom, nude and half melted.

One arm was melted near the wrist, and more melting was apparent at her midsection, which truncated at the bellybutton. In the place of melted flesh or gore, great glops of heated clay ran from her elbow joint. The towering construction leaned with the bad joint on the surrounding mud-crete wall and used its good hand to point directly in the upstairs window.

Jumping out of bed, I grabbed my highwater blaster and a bandoleer of MIRV shells, as well as both of my blades.

I turned and threw open my bedroom doors, intending to just jump off the side of the building. I had fallen asleep in my Sleem-stomper boots and was ready to go, aside from some stiffness in my trousers that I assumed would wear off on the way over.

As the sleek, black BuyMort pod arrived on my balcony, I remembered the nature of my dream and groaned.

Therrize slithered out of the rainbow beam, smiling in recognition. She wore a tight leather miniskirt with a midriff revealing leather jacket, both in bright, candy-apple red.

“Oh, hi Tyson!” The scantily-clad Nah’gh woman turned to glance at the towering vision of Mr. Sada’s nude dead wife, and her eyes shot comically wide. “Woah, what the hell is that thing?!”

“A dream storm!” I gasped. “I have to run, you can leave whenever. Sorry, Therrize!”

She nodded and slid back out of my way. Before I jumped off the roof, I saw the pod that had delivered my dream purchase on its way to deliver more. Down the row of huts it went, stopping at doors and beaming in various things. I heard screams as more people came awake, and more dream purchases began getting delivered.

Then suppressed gunfire, as a patrol of hobbs engaged with something inside the campground. I hesitated when I reached the end of my own road but sighed and turned to go deal with the situation at Mr. Sada’s. I had to trust that my hobbs could handle their work.

“I hate you Anthony!” The towering woman shrieked. “You never made me happy!” She shifted at the trunk, enormous clay breasts wobbling as she wound up and smacked the house. The top floor crushed under the blow, wood and glass flying into the air. With the fingers on her good hand, the towering clay golem sifted through the rubble.

“Where are you, Anthony? Don’t hide from me!” She roared, sweeping more rubble from the top floor across the road in front of me. I ran up the narrow corridor to Mr. Sada’s, avoiding the debris and dodging the bits of it still falling.

“Anthony!” She shrieked at the skies. It was a dead ringer for his wife’s voice too, I had heard her scream at him like this more than once.

Not usually while thirty feet high and made from mostly clay.

Metal limbs showed beneath some of the bigger portions of cracked or melted clay, and it was apparent this was another dream purchase from the bizarrely versatile CloneMort facilities. This time, with the huge fund he had available, it appeared BuyMort was able to bring his nightmare into scale.

I pushed open the metal gates to see a group of hobbs standing in a far corner, discussing something among themselves while gesturing to the large clay golem. As soon as one saw me, he waved me over. I had seen the hobb leading this group before but didn’t know their name yet.

“Boss! Boss, get clear.” The large, male hobb ran over and guided me to their corner. “It not care about us.”

“Why is nobody shooting at that thing?” I asked, glancing between the gathered hobbs.

“It clay, boss. Waste of bullets. We called for RPG, one coming,” the hobb who had grabbed me said.

“Anthony, stop hiding!” Clay Mrs. Sada bellowed. She moved her notice to the backyard, and I immediately thought of Drusk.

I left the hobbs to their huddle and started sprinting past the house to Drusk’s shed. The mordren was up, and outside of his shed. His guard hobb was trying to help the still drugged mordren away from the shed, and as I ran toward them, the giant clay golem smashed it immediately behind them with her good hand.

“Are you in there, Anthony?” She roared, grabbing up the flattened shed to look. When she didn’t find her husband beneath it, she shrieked in frustration at the sky.

“Stop hiding from me, Anthony! You’re not even a man, hiding from your own wife!”

That had to have been one hell of a nightmare.

I slipped in under Drusk’s other arm, trying to be careful not to jostle it. He leaned on me heavily though, so I just hefted and got him to walking. The golem didn’t notice or care about us at all, going back to sifting through the rubble of the second floor of Mr. Sada’s mansion.

When we came into view, the other hobbs all ran over to help, and we got Drusk to the gate. A single hobb was running down the road toward us as our group helped drag Drusk away. The new hobb was Ordo, and he was carrying our RPG launcher, with a bag of rockets.

He grinned as he saw me, and I held the gate open for him. As soon as he was in the driveway, he turned and hefted the launcher.

“Just blow up the big clay ones, boss. They go down easy,” he grunted. The hobb squeezed the trigger on his launcher, and the rocket sailed directly into Mrs. Sada’s armpit. Globs of clay blasted away, and the metal superstructure of the golem was revealed as the good arm screamed with metal fatigue and partially collapsed.

I nodded as Ordo crouched to reload. Then I hefted my highwater blaster shotgun and slipped a MIRV shell into its breach. I fired up at the golem, and my cluster bomb ripped away a portion of her face and neck.

More clay fell loose and slapped to the ground as she screamed in rage and shook her head. “Anthony you bastard! You won’t even protect your wife!”

She slammed her truncated wrist on the top of the ruined manor, crushing the back portion of the building entirely.

“What kind of man hides while his wife is attacked, Anthony!” the golem demanded.

I shook my head and slid another MIRV shell in the breach, sliding the rack forward and priming the round. Then a sudden hollow panic seized me. I froze and realized that now was my perfect moment.

Just let it kill him, I thought, staring at the ground in front of me. Just don’t save him.

I cast a panicked look over at Ordo, whose face contorted into an angry frown. He slapped my shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Hey! Hord still in there.”

He had known my thoughts, just from the look on my face. And he’d just made it clear that Hord needed to be saved . . . but he didn’t give a rat’s ass about Mr. Sada.

I blinked up at him and snapped out of it. I raised my shotgun and blasted the giant golem in the face with another MIRV shell, before stepping out of Ordo’s way, giving him space as he raised his launcher back to one shoulder.

He aimed for her head, and the rocket soared into what was left of her clay face. An explosion rocked the inside of the giant golem’s head, and it reeled drunkenly back, black smoke pouring from its naked metal frame.

One more time, the golem tried to scream the word “Anthony!” but whatever device it used to speak was damaged beyond proper function, and the sound came out garbled. The golem slumped to one side and stopped moving.

I shook my head and clapped the hobb on the back. “Good work, Ordo.”

He nodded and hefted the launcher. “Lot of nightmares, but BlueCleave have under control. I help you.”

“Thank you,” I said, turning to the ruins of Mr. Sada’s house.

He stumbled from the doorway in his robe, followed closely by Hord. The hobb quickly holstered his sidearm when he saw me.

“He survive,” Ordo said, looking at me. “You real boss, we all know it. Just tell me what you want. I do it.”

I hesitated, staring at my former boss. I saw his face from so long ago, staring down at me through the pouring rain. "You alright, son?" he had said. "Here, let's get you somewhere warm."

I saw him and what he had done for me, and my eyes began to tear. But I saw all the other faces alongside him and behind him, I was all of the other faces as well. Molls smiling beautifully enough to make me blush. Rayna stern and loyal, her rifle’s muzzle flashing in the battle to save our site. Doofus. Phyllis. Lee.

 

This was our city. Our kingdom. I was pretty shit at caring about myself, but I had a lot more of people depending on me now.

 

A hundred people. Maybe a thousand later. And that number would grow and grow, keeping what was left of us all safe against the selfishness of other sentients and the uncaring algorithms of the system. Those others, they were going to be what kept us alive in this damn nightmare.

 

"You alright, son?"

 

You are reading story BuyMort: Rise of the Windowpuncher – How I Became the Accidental Warlord of Arizona. Apocalyptic GameLit at novel35.com

That had been a different world. I tried for so long and I tried so fucking hard, but I couldn't save him. Not the way he'd saved me. Because the world was different now, and he was going to get us all killed.

 

I was a leader now. A man whose decisions could cost everyone their life. I needed to weigh matters, decide what was best for all of us as a whole . . .

 

“No, Ordo. He died in the dream storm. Get Hord out of here,” I growled.

Ordo barked a few words in the hobb language, gesturing to Hord. Hord froze, turned to look at Mr. Sada, then started jogging toward Ordo.

I tried my best to smile at Mr. Sada as I walked toward him, but I couldn’t. The expression froze and turned into a grimace. Mr. Sada stared at his bodyguard leaving his side, then turned to see me approaching. Something clicked, and he scrambled back inside.

When I arrived at his doorway a few seconds later, he was already in what was left of the kitchen.

“Tyson, wait. Stop, what did I do?” He asked. His voice rose into a whine and my jaw clenched. I stepped into his house and started walking toward him across the living room.

“Hey, c’mon man, you’re freakin’ me out. This isn’t funny!”

Mr. Sada backed up and clutched at the marble countertop as he went. He was shaking his head at me and staring into my eyes. I wished I had remembered my helmet before I came.

“It was just a bad dream!” His voice cracked and I moved to follow him around the marble countertop. He dodged again, clutching the lip of marble and staying away from me.

I turned to him and let out a shaking breath, between my clenched teeth. Then I summoned the atomic breaker gauntlets and smashed the countertop. I inadvertently activated my power blow ability in both arms, and the slab of marble erupted in a cloud of blue light and dust.

Mr. Sada fell back from the explosion, expensive marble shrapnel dotting his face and throat. He rubbed at his eyes, prone on the stairs.

“What the fuck, Tyson!“

His scream wasn’t angry.

Just afraid.

I briefly wondered if maybe all of his previous profanities had been fear rather than anger. A knot formed in my throat, even as I rushed forward.

He tried to block me but I moved fast, grabbed his throat, and lifted him bodily overhead.

“Tyson please!” He wheezed. “I’m sor-”

I squeezed hard. Bone crushed like powder, and he slumped to the floor, eyes unfocused. My gauntlet had held him by the top of his neck, and when I bore down, I crushed his brainstem, killing him instantly.

The sudden silence was deafening.

In the background, where the marble counter used to be, my cartoon starfish danced in the dust cloud that remained.

I sat down on the ruined stairs beside his crumpled body, breathing marble dust and just staring at my gauntlets. They pulsed and hummed, oblivious to the life they'd just snuffed out, gathering the remaining atomic energy in the air into themselves.

 

Once they were finished, I dismissed them.

 

To my side, rivulets of red ran from Mr. Sada's ears, pooling over the kitchen floor. 

 

"You should have fucking listened," I muttered.

 

"Not the dream. The dream wasn't your fault. But the rest of it. All of that garbage ‘I'm the boss’ bullshit that you had to keep throwing about. You were supposed to fucking listen!”

 

My voice dropped to a whisper. “I didn’t hate you, Mr. Sada. I was going to save you. I was going to save all of us, man."

 

His eyes were blank. Peaceful in a way.

 

Maybe this was best for him as well.

 

He wasn't made for this world. His had been a place of luxury and inheritance, where merit and effort were hired to make rich people richer, and you didn't have to take responsibility for stuff if you had that golden spoon.

 

Here there was no golden spoon. Not for any of our little group, anyways.  I hunched over his body and rifled through the pockets of his robe. The MortBlock was in his right pocket. I had suspected he wouldn’t move around without it.

This MortBlock no longer has an owner! It covers the entire area of Silken Sands. Would you like to claim ownership of this MortBlock?

The cube gave me its prompts, and I went through the motions. My MortBlock, which I had taken from the orange Sleem orb in the basement, lit up as it accepted the new territory into my own.

I controlled the entire campground, and roughly half an acre around it in each direction, which extended our current territory to just outside the walls. I noticed our funding had not changed and realized that the morties Mr. Sada had made from nearly destroying our spider ranch had not been returned to the affiliate from his personal account.

A sleek, black pod floated lazily through the shattered and crumbling patio doors, and beamed in a small package, depositing it on the floor at my feet. Then it turned and left, happily whistling its transaction-complete sound.

The box had a small flesh-paper sticker attached to the outside, like a shipping label. It was emblazoned with a fresh brand that read “BuyMort Living Will Services. Anthony J.J. Sada.”

I guess that answered what happened to your morties after you die. If you set up a will, it would send gifts to your loved ones, friends, affiliates, or even enemies.

And if you didn’t, well, my bet was that BuyMort just absorbed the morties.

With a heavy sigh, I flipped open my knife and slit the flesh tape around the box, before opening its cover flaps.

A copy of the bulls-head ring Mr. Sada always wore was seated inside the box, with a tiny white card tucked into the back of the jewelry container.

The note only held a few words, and a single letter to sign it. I could tell it was from him, even though the lettering was printed by a machine. It simply said, “To remind you who’s boss. S.”

I choked on the laughter that bubbled up, quieted myself, and then slowly took the ring out and put it on my own finger.

It fit perfectly.

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