Echo In the Machine - Chapter 8
An expanded tale written from prompts while playing ECO MOFOS!!
Start from the beginning of my ECO MOFOS!! Solo Playthrough story HERE!
CHAPTER 8: THE TANGLE
The terrain turned mean again.
The open hills and clear landscape funneled down to just a narrow run of hard-packed dirt cutting through scrubland that didn’t want me there. Bramble clawed at me, gorse snagged at my boots. Every step forward felt like I was being poked and prodded to turn around and go back the way I came. The cart didn’t help.
It dragged harder with every meter. The wheels caught on roots and the frame rattled and hitched over everything in its way. The droid sat there dead and heavy, bobbing with the motion.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, leaning into it. “I see ya.”
Ahead, the path narrowed even more. And that’s when I saw the bones.
Massive skeletons scattered across the edges of the trail like someone had dropped them there on purpose. Grizzlies maybe, or what used to be some kind of bear. Only ribcages and skulls were left, split and weathered.
I slowed when I saw something moved near the bones.
A figure.
Standing just off the path, half-hidden in the tangle. Small. Still. Watching me.
I didn’t like it. There was no room to go around, the brush was too thick on both sides. If I turned back, I’d lose half a day or maybe more.
So I kept rolling forward. Slow and careful, with my hand drifting near Ole’ Sixey.
The figure shifted as I got closer, then ducked down behind one of the ribcages like I might not notice.
I stopped the cart and looked right at where they’d gone. I stepped closer, just enough to see over the bones.
There she was.
Flame red hair, messy and bright against all that brown and gray. Half crouched behind a skeleton like a kid hiding behind a chair. She turned her head away just a little, like if she didn’t look at me, I might not see her at all.
She was scared. Or shy. Or at least pretending to be. I watched her for a second. She didn’t move. She just… existed there. She might have froze there all day if I kept looking at her.
“Alright then,” I said out loud and grabbed the cart again and started rolling past. Honestly, I didn’t need any trouble and really didn’t want the conversation.
“Hey.”
I stopped. Of course as I passed, she would say something. I sighed and glanced back over my shoulder.
Her eyes were on the droid. Not me.
“Is that yours?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“What model is it?”
“A heavy one,” I said. “And broken.”
She snuffed something that might’ve been a laugh.
I nodded toward the bones. “What’re you doing digging around a pile of dead bears?”
She hesitated. Just for a second.
Then pointed.
“Binoculars,” she said. “Tangled in there. See?”
I followed her finger and squinted to where she was pointing…and, I’ll be damned. A clean pair of binoculars wedged deep in the mess of bones and thorned brush. They didn’t look like scrap either. They looked old-world. Solid and built to last.
I looked back at her. She shrugged, “been trying to get them out.”
I eyed her for a second. It could’ve been a setup- a way to get me distracted. Could’ve also been nothing.
“Want a hand?” I asked reluctantly, half-wanting her to decline.
Her expression tightened just a bit, with fear or anxiety.
“...maybe,” she said. “Can I trust you to do the right thing?”
I blinked. “What does that mean?”
She looked down at the bones. “There was this Waster,” she said slowly. “He helped me once. Or said he would.”
I didn’t say anything.
“We did a bunch of work together,” she continued. “Then he took everything and left me stuck. Even took my tools.”
She glanced up at me then. “Tools are hard to replace.”
“Yeah,” I said. That tracked.
I shifted my weight. “Look, I’m just a Punk tryin’ to get where I need to be. I was rolling past you and you yelled to me, remember? Do you want me to help or not?”
Her eyes flicked to my gun and lingered there. I followed her gaze.
“Ah, yeah. Okay,” I said.
I slowly drew Ole’ Sixey. Her shoulders tensed.
I popped the cylinder open, turned it on its side and emptied the bullets so she could see. Then I held it out, handing it to her.
“Hold onto it,” I said. That got a reaction. She smiled then reached out slowly and carefully and took it. I nodded toward the gun. “Is that enough for you?”
“Yeah.” She gave a small, crooked smile.
I shimmied the cart off to the side of the path, grunting as the wheel caught on yet another root. “Stay,” I motioned to the droid with my open hands. Then I stepped into the mess.
The bramble scraped along my coat as I crouched low and worked my way into the thicket of scrub and bones. Up close, it was worse. Thorns wrapped through ribs and twisted tight around the binoculars like they’d grown there on purpose.
I reached in, my long arms helping, fingers brushing metal.
“Got ‘em,” I said. I pulled.
Nothing.
“Yeah, nope,” I muttered. “That ain’t happening. They are tied up real good.” I looked back at her.
“You got anything to cut through this shit?”
She was already moving. She pulled a hunting knife from her belt.
The way she held it… Sharp, focused.
For half a second, I thought I’d just walked myself into something real stupid.
“Well,” I thought to myself, lying there, “this is how I go. Stuck like a pig in a tangle of bones.”
She paused, then flipped the knife and held it out to me, handle first.
“…oh,” I said. “Thanks.”
She smirked. “You’re welcome.”
I took the knife and got to work, sawing through the bramble. It resisted at first, then gave with a series of dry snaps.
“You know,” she said behind me, “I’m something of a mechanic.”
I snorted. “Is that so?” I cut another strand.
“Yeah. What kind of ‘busted’ is that thing?” she asked, her eyes looking it over piece by piece.
“For one, the power’s dead. It was when we got it, so I don’t even know. Frame appears to be good. Those old security units were built to last.”
She didn’t answer right away. She just stepped closer to the cart, head tilted, like she was already troubleshooting it in her head.
I cut the last of the tangle and pulled the binoculars free.
“Got it.”
I worked my way back out of the bones and bramble and handed her the knife first. Then the binoculars.
She took both, checking the lenses on the binoculars like she didn’t quite believe it.
A sly grin spread across her face. “Nice,” she said.
She offered me a hand. I took it and let her pull me out the rest of the way.
“I appreciate it,” she said.
“No problem,” I said as I dusted my hands and coat off.
She handed Ole’ Sixey back. I checked it out of habit, reloaded it, then slipped it into its holster.
“So you fix droids?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “But my tools are at work,” she added.
“Where’s work?”
She pointed west. “In the stronghold.”
I let out a breath. “Of course.”
She watched me for a second. “You heading that way?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Got a friend there that I promised this droid to.”
She nodded slowly. “I’m Siren,” she said.
“Brax.”
We stood there for a moment as the wind moved through the scrub.
“You got a place to crash?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Nope, I’ve been sleeping wherever I end up.”
She pursed her lips, then nodded to herself.
“Come on,” she said after a moment. “I’ve got a spot not far from here.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You trust me now?”
“...enough.” She flashed that same smirk she’d given me with the knife.
I looked at the cart, looked west, then back at her.
“Lead the way,” I said as I gestured forward. She nodded and stepped in front of the cart and started walking. I grabbed the cart and started rolling.
And just like that, I wasn’t walking alone anymore.
CHAPTER 7 - STORM TRADE | CHAPTER 9 - SIREN'S PLACE
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