57-No Way Out

James raced through the dark, into the tree line, away from the yellow walls of light and toward the one side of the camp that wasn’t blocked off by those structures. The only way out.

Need to get far away, out of hearing, out of sight. Then hide. Stay hidden during the day. Probably need to be underground, so Rostov’s stupid god won’t spot me for him. The next night, I can double back, maybe fly the distance back to the Rodriguez camp. That should make it difficult for anyone to follow. None of them will have the kind of Mana reserves I have, even assuming one of them has wind magic to fly with.

And if one or two people in the Rostov camp had the requisite abilities and could follow him, James would enjoy taking his frustrations out on that person anyway. It wasn’t as if anyone in the Rostov camp could match him. It was their sheer numbers that was the problem.

An arrow whipped by the side of his head, tearing through the silk on one side. But the mask held tight to his face for now.

Thank goodness for that silk, he thought. If I can’t get somewhere underground by daybreak, I could at least stick myself to a tree with it and use Natural Camouflage until night comes again.

The air around him fairly burst with intense fiery heat as James rushed through the trees. The forest was burning, thanks to James, again. But I didn’t even get the kills this time.

He grew somber. Everything about tonight was a terrible, ugly failure.

But at least he would escape to lick his wounds. He who fights and runs away can live to fight another day.

A shot rang out and tore through the silk on the other side of James’s mask, and he felt the mask almost ready to fly off of his face. He grabbed it to keep it where it belonged, then darted through a small gap between two trees.

I don’t seem to be losing them as quickly as I’d expect with my Agility.

But he was being chased by a lot of people, coming from several directions. The forest was alive with the sound of snapping twigs and branches, and he could hear even the ones that were far away. He had to be gaining some distance.

More shots rang out, but they went wide.

James picked up his pace, dashing further and faster through the forest.

He kept going at a full sprint for another several minutes, silently thanking the System for his insane Stamina. The air became quieter and quieter as he outpaced both his pursuers and the forest fire.

He kept running as the silence predominated, mostly in a straight line. He started to feel like he might be able to stop soon. He should be far enough ahead now. Just get as much distance as possible before you stop, he told himself. His Stamina wasn’t at the bottom yet, although it had been dropping much faster for the minutes he spent sprinting.

James was so preoccupied with getting away that he almost missed it. He came very suddenly to the end of the forest.

Rather than a new biome in front of him, he saw nothing.

A vast gulf. A chasm filled with nothing but black emptiness.

James was running at such high speed that he had to dig in his heels to stop, and he barely managed in time. His momentum carried him to the edge of the cliff.

As he stood there, he looked straight down. Besides the sheer cliff itself, he couldn’t make out a single detail as far as his eyes could see.

Only darkness.

He tried to peer across the chasm to spot what was on the other side. Maybe he could throw a weapon with some spider silk, establish an anchor on the opposite end of the chasm, pull himself across.

But he saw only darkness in the distance. There was no apparent end to it, though with his vision, he would expect to see some hint of the other side even if it was far away. And the moon is bright tonight.

He shuddered slightly. It reminds me of what the ancients supposedly believed, that the world was flat. In reality, pre-Columbus Europeans already knew that the world was curved. It was 19th Century thinkers who reinvented the Middle Ages as a period when people were so backwards that they believed the Earth was flat.

But this was like the edge of the world that those mythological pre-Columbians supposedly believed they would sail off of.

Nothingness. The edge of the map.

Slowly, carefully, James backed away from the edge. He didn’t want to look at it. The void was too disturbing. With his enhanced sight, he should be able to see deep down into it. But it was as if there was nothing at the bottom.

It seemed impossible. Nothing like this should exist on the Earth he knew.

One more confirmation, if I needed it, that Orientation is in another universe or a separate dimension or something.

James heard noises of movement from back the way he’d come. Snapping twigs, voices that were trying to be quiet but didn’t seem to account for his superhuman hearing.

How?! I haven’t stopped here that long, have I? How could they have found me so quickly?

He looked around. There was nowhere to run except back the way he’d come or along the cliffside. That seemed dangerous. Considering their numbers, he’d just run into more cult members if they were so determined to follow him.

He looked at the tracks he’d left in the ground. They’ll definitely know I was here. Maybe he could use that to his advantage. The ground near the cliffside was dirt, but he’d just been running through an area of forest full of clover.

I have a minute or two before they get close, he estimated. Just enough time?

James walked forward several feet along the cliff side, deliberately making heavier footfalls than usual. He kept going until he’d walked from the dirt that lined the cliffside to the clover that marked the reentry into the forest.

He looked back. Perfect. An easy to follow trail.

He stepped backwards through his footsteps until he was close to the cliffside again. Then he stood in the treads he’d left from when he stopped himself from running off the edge of the cliff.

And he jumped up the side of the closest tree. As soon as he was secure in a branch, he affixed his mask more firmly on his head with a new, hastily applied layer of spider-silk.

With that done, he activated Natural Camouflage. His pulse slowed, his breathing grew shallow, his body relaxed, and he felt as if he was melding into the tree. And he waited.

A few seconds passed, and he heard voices.

“Definitely came this way,” a voice he didn’t know said.

“The Skill says he’s still somewhere over here,” Officer Ross said. “It’s a little general. Kinda like reading radar, I think.”

“You haven’t had to use this Skill very often before, have you, Officer?” Rostov testily replied. “Perhaps there’s been a bit of a learning curve?”

Seven figures materialized from the darkness into James’s field of view. He was slightly gratified to see that they each looked more exhausted than he felt. Their white clothes were dirty. Several of them looked annoyed. One of them was the wreath-wearing man. Thankfully not the middle-aged wreath-wearing woman, who James guessed was somewhere above this man in the cult hierarchy. Another was the man with the reddish skin and the tiny horns. And Jan Roest, looking hideously burned but considerably healed up compared with how James had left him.

Shit, they brought the A-team. And me, almost in the red on Mana. It had been recharging as he ran away, and much faster than pre-Race Evolution, but it was nowhere near enough for James to get into a fight. Certainly not the kind of flashy fighting he’d done back at the cultists’ camp earlier.

“No, I haven’t had to use the Skill very often,” Ross shot back. “Normally Moloch gives us the location data. What’s up, his GPS not working?”

“How dare you blaspheme my god to my face?! My god who has saved your life time and time again! You presume too much, Officer!” Rostov fumed. “If you are not capable of tracking down our enemy, then perhaps I no longer need you, eh? Remember who is keeping who alive here! I doubt Catherine would appreciate your blasphemy either.”

“Leave my wife out of this, Rostov!” The policeman grabbed Rostov by the collar and looked like he wanted to strike him.

There was a moment of tense silence as the two held eye contact, clear hatred in Ross’s expression. Rostov’s face, however, revealed nothing. James wondered if Rostov was using a Skill on Ross right now, to place him back under control. It would be strange if a cult leader didn’t have some powers in the same vein as what he’d experienced from Chava.

Finally, Rostov broke the silence.

“He is a sun god, anyway, so how is he supposed to help us at night?!” A note of humor. That same sly, charismatic way of putting people at ease that James had noted before.

Even Officer Ross, who clearly hated Rostov’s guts, seemed affected. He snorted derisively but released Rostov’s collar.

“We’ll look until we find him in any case,” the wreath-wearer said, stepping forward to place himself between the two.

“Yes,” Rostov agreed. He sounded much calmer now. “There is no need for alarm. The other searchers will signal if they find him. We have him so thoroughly boxed in, there can be no way out.”

The seven figures moved on, and James let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Just have to wait a little while now to make sure they won’t come back and that the next patrol isn’t following immediately after. Then I’ll sneak down from this tree and dig a hole for myself on the side of the cliff. I can keep the entrance to the hole open, so I’ll be able to breathe. No one will be able to see me unless they somehow cross to the other side of the cliff. And as far as I know, there’s nothing on the other side of the cliff. Just void. It’s the edge of the map.

Something about the plan sounded odd as he thought it out, but he couldn’t see anything wrong with it. Just something that felt strange, and he had no time now to try and drill down to figure out whether it meant anything.

He started counting in his head. One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi, four-Mississippi, five-Mississippi. I’ll go until I get to ten, and then I’ll hop down from this place and start climbing down the cliff side. Shouldn’t take much Mana just to dig out a human-sized hole.

As he had these thoughts, he heard the sound of approaching humans again. It felt slightly muffled this time, as if they were trying to be quiet, but there was no mistaking it.

Damn it, I missed my window! What little there was of one. I’ll just have to wait a bit longer…

Then he heard more footfalls. These were coming from the opposite direction.

Two groups were converging on this one spot.

This can’t be a coincidence. He recalled the exchange earlier, about Officer Ross’s tracking ability. It must have something to do with that. They knew he was here.

Can’t risk my life testing what’s on the other side of that cliff. Can’t stay here and hope they go away, not when they’re gathering in numbers.

He moved from a prone position, to a crouch, to standing.

Then he took a running leap, jumping from the branch he stood on—and this time he felt the bullet almost at the same time that he heard the shot ring out.

James collapsed to the ground, clutching his side.

Not completely bulletproof, then. He’d suspected as much. It was only a shallow wound, and hopefully the shooter would be running out of bullets about now. But he didn’t want to bet on it.

As another shot rang through the air, James quickly sprang back toward the tree and took cover behind it.

“There’s no point in hiding anymore, heathen!” Rostov’s voice taunted loudly. “Did you think we didn’t know you were there?”

“You had me fooled!” James called back. Just need them to give me a little time. I’ll come up with something.

“Do you prefer to surrender or fight?” Rostov asked, maintaining the same elevated volume. “We’ve made sure we have plenty of people in case you prefer the fight.”

“For me personally, I prefer the fight!” Jan Roest pronounced in his distinctive accent. “Come on out and let us fuck you up!”

James could hear the pain in his voice even through the sneering. Sounds like you’re the one who’s fucked up. Normally, he would want to taunt an opponent in a situation like this.

But here, there was just no point. They had the numbers to beat him, he was almost certain. There was no point in winding them up. He thought furiously, trying to come up with some way to escape. Some way he could win or flee back through the forest behind him.

Before he could come up with a plan, he saw them drawing closer all around him. He could only guess there were some on the other side of his tree, but the ones he could see were enough of a problem. A baker’s dozen of Rostov’s people, with his strongest except for the other two wreath-wearers all represented.

Then things got worse. Someone kindled a yellow glow, emanating from behind him.

A wall to cut off any possible retreat.

“Brought you that fight you were looking for, intruder.” Rostov’s voice came from behind James, presumably behind the yellow barrier wall.

Of course he waits to gloat properly until he’s protected again, James thought. I must have scared the crap out of him with that explosion. Bloody coward!

“Coward!” James spat. “Get out from behind that energy field and fight me yourself. Like a real man!”

“I’m more of a support role, but thank you for thinking of me,” Rostov replied. He sounded completely unperturbed.

James had known the cheap shot wouldn’t work. Still worth a try.

As he spoke, the thirteen on the same side of the barrier with him had positioned themselves, evenly spacing themselves to better cut off any escape. With the wall behind him and the tough fighters all around him, James was surrounded.

Ross was one of those who had him encircled. He had put his pistol back in its holster, James saw, and drawn a small club. Since Ross had been through Evolution, James anticipated this was going to hurt.

Roest was another of those poised to attack. James got his first good look at the man’s weapon, a gleaming red spear that glowed slightly in the darkness.

The man with the little horns was there too, holding a big club that James could vaguely see was covered in intricate carvings.

A woman with a longsword and pristine white armor.

A stocky man with two long knives.

“Get him!” Roest snarled.

The other faces all blended together as the thirteen charged in unison. The fight wasn’t polite, like what he’d seen in movies when the hero was attacked by a gang. There was no choreography, no taking turns. Everyone wanted a piece of James at once.

Clubs struck his head and shoulders, spear thrusts pierced through where he’d just been standing, and a sword swing almost took his head off. He dodged what he could, weaved around deadly attacks, and simply took the blows from the clubs.

The bad thing was simply that he was too overwhelmed to go on offense.

James had been in several one-sided fights over the last week. It was just unfortunate that this time, he was on the wrong side.

Slowly but surely, the repeated blows whittled down his Health. Stab wounds that were barely dodged pulled back and turned into slashes that grazed him. Bludgeoning weapons gradually achieved their purpose and broke several of James’s weaker bones after repeated blows: a rib, several fingers on his left hand, the left wrist.

And then he found an opening. James dove through a gap that had briefly appeared between the attackers.

As he dove, his Predator’s Instincts went wild. But it was impossible for him to dodge in midair without magic charged to protect him.

Roest’s spear pierced through James’s back, and he felt the searing heat explode through his lung. He was on fire from the inside.

He wanted to scream, but the air had all gone out of him.

He managed to crawl forward, spear still stuck through him, but it was agony.

The weapon finally pulled out of his chest cavity, and James felt Roest’s breath as the man leaned in close.

“I told you, didn’t I? Heh heh”

In a flash, James sprang up, grabbed Roest by the throat, and turned him around to use him as a human shield. Even with his left hand almost fully disabled, the Strength difference was insurmountable. With his left arm wrapped around Roest’s throat and his right hand crushing the wrist of the hand that held the spear, Roest dropped the weapon.

“How does this feel?” James asked. “Bring back any memories?”

“Motherfucker,” Roest sputtered, uncomfortable in the role of repeat hostage. “I’ll kill you, you piece of aaaaahhhh—”

He let out a pained yelp as James tightened his grip and broke Roest’s wrist.

“Don’t just stand there, you sons ‘o bitches, do something!” Roest croaked at the others. They shuffled indecisively, slowly moving to form a new circle around James. But Roest had been at the furthest reach of their semicircle before, close to the edge of the chasm.

Now James had the advantages of a hostage in hand and his back to the cliff. He couldn’t be surrounded, and he could only be attacked with great peril to Roest.

Still, James knew his situation was shit, and it was only going to deteriorate from here. The cultists would undoubtedly sacrifice a pawn like Roest to kill an obviously high value target like himself. He would’ve made the same call if he had to.

He weighed his options, and he decided there weren’t any good ones. And only one that was somewhat acceptable.

He yanked backward on Roest, and the two of them tumbled together over the edge of the cliff and into the murky blackness below.

As they fell into darkness, James began to laugh.