Writing Prompt: Write a scene emulating the prose of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. Focus on third-person close narrator point-of-view.
Naphtali Archeron knelt on the cracked surface of the Wasteland. Her splayed fingers barely touched the ruined earth as though she feared its corruption would spread to her. Nazca was to her back. Its monolithic buildings abandoned by the Ancients stood sentinel atop the horizon. The distant city wavered like a hazy mirage from the distance and the heat that baked the Wasteland. The Wasteland was all around them. The city. Naphtali. Her crew. They were all that decorated the seemingly endless stretch of dead land.
Ahead of Naphtali rose the remains of the archaeological dig site Samara had enlisted her misfit crew to escort her to. The site was dominated by a half-buried Ancientech drill that resembled a massive centipede lashed to the ground by wires and cables protruding from its sides. More technology that did not belong to them. It was the Ancients’. But the New Nations saw only the supposed advantages of the Restorians, reverse engineering Ancientech and magitech. Not the dangers. Even after the catastrophe at Zarephath. Dig sites continued to sprout up anywhere a hint of ‘techs appeared. This particular dig site had already been used to explore what lay beneath the Wasteland. It had been abandoned by the archaeologues like the Ancients had abandoned Nazca. And Zarephath. And all the other lingering cities still left on the face of Phaedrana. What they left behind were like toys in a sandbox. Toys that the New Nations had no business playing with.
Samara Granseal continued to set up her equipment. Her work consumed her. As far as Naphtali could tell now that she had reached the dig site her escorts no longer existed. There was only the machine. Her work. Whatever magitech score she was so sure she would find. Such lust for a vanished civilizations scraps was beyond Naphtali’s understanding. She could be no help to the archaeologue. Which was fine by her. She wanted no part in this stupidity any more than she had already signed up for against her better judgment. But money was a bitch to come by for her and her ilk. Turning down work was just as foolish as venturing out to the Wasteland in search of ‘tech.
So instead she fished out a pre-rolled spliff of hinas from her duster. Lit it with a crude match. She took a long draw from it then made her way to Wyatt. He looked at her from behind his cobbled together spectacles as she approached. She looked like a desert phantom with her black military duster flapping chaotically in the sandy winds. When she reached him she knelt down beside him and looked at the device he was tinkering with. It was a slender electronic device with a series of unlit rectangular lights on one side. Wyatt had popped the back off and was realigning the wires. She spoke to him in a whisper so quiet the winds threatened to steal her words.
Is it operational?
Should be.
Wyatt made one last adjustment and snapped the plastic back on the device on and flipped a switch. The lowest three rectangles glowed to life. They were bright green. Wyatt whispered back to Naphtali.
That’s the sound of the wind.
How much louder can we get before attracting any metal demons’ attention?
Not much. Their sense-nets are. Well. Sensitive to say the least.
Naphtali said: Test. A fourth green light blinked awake. She said it again louder. She spoke in her normal vocal range. A yellow light flicked on above the four green lights. She waited. She hesitated. Then she said loudly: Zolom.
A second yellow light appeared. Then a red light blinked to life ominously above it. There was only one light left unlit on the device. She looked at Wyatt.
Two reds are too many. Two reds is toast. Two reds is Zolom.
Naphtali shook her head.
We shouldn’t be here, Wyatt. Noise limit is too low. And somehow I doubt that metal bug back there is going to stay quiet.
It was your call.
She sighed
Let’s just hope the high winds keep up. Mask our activity. Keep your specs on.
Naphtali pushed herself upright and moved away from Wyatt and turned to face Ky Kizler and Kuran Fenrir. She performed a series of hand gestures to warn each of them to keep quiet. Real quiet.
Just as she did Samara’s monstrous metal centipede stirred to life. With it came the grinding roar of sand-choked metal on metal and the hum of whatever powered the machine. It shook the ground as it shuddered back to life. Naphtali looked to Samara. The fucking thing’s sound dampeners had failed. Samara looked back at Naphtali in horror. Her hand dropped to her holster.
The device in Wyatt’s hand was lit fully. The final two red lights shined brightest.
Behind Naphtali the Wasteland burst open. The sky filled with slate grey dirt that turned into a cloud of dust as the hardened earth crumbled apart. Another cry sounded. Gears and machinery clicked and whirred and thrummed with a life far more awake than the drill. Naphtali turned. She felt the surge of combat training flood through her like a dormant creature stirred to live. She rode the familiar rush of adrenaline and spun about. Her revolver and sword were already in her hands. Her lifetime’s worth of training took command. She shed herself one of Naphtali and became Zarephath’s Naphtali now that she faced another remnant of the Ancients: the Zolom. The machine-worm dwarfed the centipedal drilling device. It twisted in the air and snaked upwards. It emitted a screech that silenced even the winds. Its tubular body constantly shifted and blinked with the unmistakable activity of Ancientech advanced machinery. All blue lights and organic shaped metal casing. The metal worm looped in the air and blotted out the sun. Naphtali and her crew became one organic unit. Weapons drawn and prepared for battle as the shadow of the Zolom spread over them. Washed them in darkness. The Zolom let out chilling inhuman machine screech and curled directly towards Naphtali and her team.
