Where Wild Spider-Horses Roam

Only three things remained constant in these Days of Despair—

_______heat, death, and mechanics.

It was gratifying to know that, for as long as his synthetic heart continued to pump rejuvenating blood, the Old Thinking would survive.

This far out here on the irradiated range, it was the infallible old tech that protected them from sun’s deadly stare. The transparent energy field that surrounded their compound was powered by the same relentless sizzle that it was designed to reflect. His bunker, his ark, his protective barriers, not to mention all his clever devices, both internal and external— everything the old man valued was a remnant from a bygone age.

It had been 15 months 27 days since he had rescued the 20-somethings. When they came upon him, he offered them refuge, because he longed to teach the old ways to a new generation. They were exiles from Iron Canyon, meaning they were probably cutthroats, thieves, or perverts. Likely all three. But it had been 64 years since he had spent time in the company of a female. He had no real libido anymore; the regeneration process didn’t preserve his sex drive; but he still had an ardent interest in admiring a gorgeous young female.

Besides… wasn’t “hospitality” one of the best of the forgotten words?

He thought it was the right thing to do, what his chivalrous code demanded, but it didn’t take long for him to realize that allowing Bonny and Johnny to move in with him was a big mistake.

He often spied on them, listening to their secret conversations. They talked in whispers, not knowing he could amplify his hearing.

He never hinted at all the tricks his widgets could do.

They talked often about murdering him. The only reason they hadn't slain him already was because of Sampson.

His lion rarely left his side. Today, however, the plan was for the young’uns to help the old man with some chores in the barn. While the three of them worked, he let Sampson roam free.

After rolling in the sand, the great beast sauntered off to the granite slab on the far side of the compound, his favorite place to laze and taunt Sol.

The trio had been out of the ark for barely twenty minutes when the old man spotted the old monster, just outside their oasis.

He’d seen this Thing in the past, many long bakes before. It looked like a horse-sized spider/crustacean hybrid. The sinister-sick octoped was perfectly adapted to the Wicked Warmth.

Spikes stuck out razor-sharp from the shell on the aberration's back. Its carapace reflected the vicious sunshine with blinding flashes. It had both fangs and pinchers. Beneath a shielded head & gargantuan antlers, eldritch crimson eyes glowed like radioactive apples.

A quick brain-scan confirmed this was the same beast that lurked here thirty-seven years ago. Back then, after assessing the compound’s energy field at a distance, it had simply moved on.

Some heat freaks were dumb but sly; others were cunning and resourceful. Bitter experience taught the old man that he shouldn’t be surprised by anything that flapped, pattered, or slithered out of the swelter. The worst abominations often had the greatest intelligence.

Case in point: here again was this gargantuan grotesquery, standing stock-still in the exact spot where it stood almost four decades ago. The malformity was fixated on something, and when the old man looked to see what had captured its attention, he nearly jumped out of his wrinkled skin.

Bonny! It was staring right at Bonny!

The desert fiend opened its jagged snout, bellowing a deep drumbeat vibration. Bonny jumped and gasped. Johnny quivered and whimpered. Only the old man remained silent and unshaken.

All three of them then felt the thumping rattle of the coming horde. Orange grit, maroon gravel, and beige sand were kicked up in swirls by scurrying extremities.

Roughly three hundred yards beyond their sun shield, the heat haze rendered everything unseeable. But now, from out of that oscillating blur, the stampede burst forth— moose monstrosities, blighted deer, sand jackals—were those insectistags? Maybe even elongated wildebeests? He couldn’t tell what all the various twisted-up species might be, and he marveled at how they all charged in tandem.

A perfect team!

When it quickly became apparent that the advancing herd was aimed right at his time-tested barrier, the old man had to laugh.

The photon palisades were utterly impenetrable!

He was about to witness a spectacular mass suicide!

He had extolled their perfect security innumerable times to his two young confederates. If the compound’s defenses were flawed in any way, he not only forgot what their weaknesses were, he must have flushed all information related to those shortcomings from his system.

Having run out of personal cyber storage space 72 years ago, he had to go through his brain-banks regularly to purge unimportant memories— a real pain in the ass.

Thrilled like he hadn’t been since he met the 'onnys, the old man made certain all cameras in the area, both external and internal, were recording.

The first mutant hit the power field with such devastating force that shell fragments and bone splinters went flying in every direction. Horns shattered. One particularly large antler rebounded back the way it came, impaling the racing atrocity right behind it. Clusters of scales shattered with loud 💥💥 BANGs!!!💥💥💥!!! Bloody gore splashed, sizzled, and popped, like grease in an overheated skillet.

The old man took several steps back to stand beside Johnny.

Clapping her hands together, Bonny giggled and jumped with glee.

More of the ghastly throng collided with the force fields. Simultaneously, five heat freaks were instantly atomized, as if they had exploded from within.

Churning energy rippled and sparked as a pair of hooved horrors barreled into it hard enough to make it partway through! One varmint was split across its midsection— its front arachnid half remained mostly whole, but its rear horsey half was minced. The other seven-legged, three-eyed lout was cut lengthwise, its left side clearly more durable than its right.

The worst horrors came last, slamming into an overloaded reaction field that first wavered and then wobbled. Dying horribly, even as they were torn to shreds— they just kept coming and coming and coming, until the power grid finally gave way with a thundercrack discharge of wild electricity. One of the last, fattest mutations trotted through the gap without losing any body parts, only to be slain by a _lightning bolt to the back of its head.

The Alpha leader of the pack left its watcher’s spot with a death-defying leap, landing to create an eruption of sand, then sprinted forward, its nightmare gaze still fixed on Bonny.

The old man was shocked senseless by the betrayal of his defenses. He flashed on the memory of firearms (how he wished for some now!). But all his ammunition was expended nearly a century ago, when he used to go on deadly excursions beyond his ark.

He had only his sword and dagger to rely on, and he was too discombobulated to raise either.

He heard Bonny unsheathe her rapier.

Johnny ran for the bunker.

They all would have died if not for Sampson. The old man thought the old lion was too far away to intervene in time; he was strong but no longer lithe. But Sampson proved him wrong. Yes, Bonny would have done some damage with her blade before she went down but, ultimately, she was no match for this vile titan.

Like his master, the barrel-chested lion was enhanced with bionics. A whirling antenna hid in the thick mane surrounding Sampson's majestic head. Sampson’s guts and hindquarters were all-natural meat, but its mechanical forepaws hissed when he leaped and clacked when he landed.

Sampson ran directly in between the humans and the rampaging creature. When he roared, the antique jewelry that hung around his neck swatted sunbeams.

“No!” shouted the old man.

“Hell yeah!” shouted Bonny.

With uncanny speed and bone-shattering might, the horse-spider-crab-thing swung its enormous antlers to batter the mechanically enhanced lion. Sampson lashed back, digging through his attacker’s armor with a flurry of steel claws, while chomping repeatedly on its face with razor-filled jaws.

The monster fought back with its own fangs before Sampson snapped them off.

The lion went for the aberration's eyes.

After a swift, ferocious battle, the mutation collapsed.

Only a few seconds later, the energy shield recalibrated itself and whooshed back up.

Before dying, a log-sized pincher shot out, going straight through Sampson's neck. The old man gasped in shock, his eyes nearly as big as his gaping mouth.

With the clatter of broken gears and pained gasping, the last of the cat’s life was bled out of him.

Somewhere underground, a klaxon went off.

The old man rushed over to Sampson, already knowing it was too late.

He became frantic to extract the horrible spike impaling his friend. Pulling on it, he cut himself on jagged scales, screaming. The regeneration process healed him quick, but he still needed both Bonny and Johnny's help to free Samson's body.

Screaming like a dry desert wind, the old man broke the golden chain around his kitty’s neck. Locket in hand, he fled, going straight down to their Loaves and Fishes machine, where he quantumized especially potent liquor.

***⚡_______⚡***

The old man sat drunk in a corner, the goblet in his lap gripped tightly between his thighs. Cupped in one trembling hand, he held the cherished momento that Sampson had brandished for decades. Inside the heart-shaped locket was a small piece of the left ventricle from his own original heart.

Up until this morning, the old-timer had been utterly certain he already knew everything that he'd ever need to know.

He thought that he had seen it all.

Tonight, he felt stupid and blind and lost.

He had brainwashed himself into thinking neither he nor Sampson would ever die. What a cruel fantasy!

All his best behavioral modification aps were useless.

He wept uncontrollably.

His left cybernetic eye thrummed blue beams.

***⚡_______⚡***

Before the assault, the young man was convinced the old man was overselling his importance. Johnny thought this entire complex was completely automated and self-repairing. Johnny previously cautioned against killing the old man only because he was terrified of the lion.

Now Sampson was dead, and Johnny secretly rejoiced. But he had a new concern. The old man was wrong to claim they were invulnerable here. Today had been nearly calamitous! What else was that bastard wrong about?

If the old man didn’t fully understand the old tech, what hope did Johnny and Bonny ever have of understanding it?

Still petrified, unable to extract the infected memory of that rampaging beast from his psyche, Johnny concluded they needed the old man— and likely always would.

***⚡_______⚡***

As for the young woman, she was forever bloodthirsty. Bonny killed that bitch back on Sanctuary Hill just because the cunt looked at her wrong. Half-crazy most of the time, she was convinced she was possessed by heat demons, a direct result of the Trial of Eight Swords that she endured right before they were driven out of Iron Canyon.

Since they’d joined up with the old man, a day hadn’t passed that Bonny hadn’t fantasized about stabbing him. But while she didn’t fear Sampson like Johnny did, she did respect the lion. Murdering their host simply wasn’t safe. Or practical. But she longed to do it.

Everything changed when she saw the old man grieving.

Bonny didn’t like people in general, not even Johnny, but in the many bakes they'd lived together, she’d grown quite fond of Sampson. She could still remember the first time the lion ever licked her hand— a bonding moment between two apex predators.

Watching the old man bawl, she cried for Sampson too.

Finally, she consciously dried her tears and took Johnny's hand. “Come on,” she said to her partner-in-crime.

The old man came too.

Johnny did all the work digging the grave, but it was Bonny's idea, and she supervised, so she naturally took all the credit.

The three of them buried Sampson as a family. Afterward, Bonny approached an old man who had never looked older. Tenderly, she said, “We’ve been together all this time, and we don’t even know your name.”

He had to stop and ask his brain-banks for help.

“Noah,” he finally said. “I think my name is Noah.”

That night, Bonny removed her birth prevention device so that she and Johnny could conceive a new future for them all.

⚡__________________ ⚡

*by

____________________Bolt ⚡

This is a newly revamped version of the first story I ever published on Vocal three years ago.