Apocalypse: Fairy System by Macronomicon (fox in socks read aloud txt) 📕

jumped into the Jeep and cranked the engine, which turned over with a victorious roar.

Oh thank god Smartass didn’t ruin everything.

“What’s that awful racket?” Smartass demanded, hauling herself out of the water by the cup holder.

Jeb glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry.”

“Sorry for wha—AIII!”

Jeb gunned it.

The fairy and all the water surrounding her was violently sloshed into the back as Jeb charged the pirates, finally able to open up the engine now that he was off-road.

Kinda like a metaphor for my life.

Jeb stuck the wand out the open top and began pulling the trigger non-stop, creating a string of explosions above him, marching straight toward the approaching pirates at roughly sixty miles an hour.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

Jeb laid on the horn with his thumb as he approached, filling the space between the explosions with the Jeep’s piercing wail.

BOOMEEEEBOOMEEEBOOMEEEBOOMBOOMEEEEBOOMEEEBOOMEEEBOOM BOOMEEEEBOOMEEEBOOMEEEBOOMBOOMEEEEBOOMEEEBOOMEEEBOOM BOOMEEEEBOOMEEEBOOMEEEBOOM

***Krag the Unswerving, Warrior level 32***

“Payday, gentlemen,” Krag said, lowering the spyglass from his eye. “We’ve got a caravan loaded down with artifacts from the Stitching, and a new place to pick over. They’ve got so much loot, we may not have space for prisoners.”

“We’ve always got space for the right prisoners, captain!” one of the sleazier crewmen shouted, eliciting a roar of approval.

Morale is always a factor, Krag thought, eyeing the dumb bastard. “Aye, that we do,” Krag said with a smirk.

The cheering redoubled as they turned the jets on.

The ‘jets’ were Myst engines stolen from the military strapped to oil lenses, the resulting spray then atomized as it shot through a spinning grate.

The resulting black mist was lit on fire, and they were off, cruising over the bushy surface of the alien desert fast enough to drive the wind through their hair, tugging at their loose clothes. Boulders and other large impediments got shoved under the sand by the faradan stone coating on the bottom of the boat.

Krag was hoping they had a gold lens the size of his thumb. With the right application of a Myst engine, they could live like kings.

Well, not all of us, he thought, eyeing the rest of his crew. If he found a gold lens of sufficient size, they would start dropping like flies. Less shares to split. They would die and he would become Mr. Krag, Legitimate Businessman.

Krag was contemplating murder when there was a flash of light above the caravan, followed by a rumble they heard above the sound of the jets.

What in the Roil was that? Krag thought. If he didn’t know any better, Krag would have guessed it was a light anti-infantry weapon straight from the empire’s military.

Those were only wielded by powerful aristocrats who showed up simply to flick their wrist and cause mass destruction amongst the rank and file.

He should know, because he’d spent nearly a decade working for the bastards.

A moment later there was another flaming explosion above the caravan, followed by another rumble, elsewhere above the caravan, a moment before he thought he heard something.

“Hold! Kill the jets!”

The pirate manning the steering wheel pulled the oily lever with a clunk, stalling out the ship as the stream of burning oil stopped. The boat slid to a gentle stop, their ears adjusting to the sudden silence.

“What is it, captain?”

“SHH!”

Krag cocked his head, pointing his good ear toward the caravan.

Eoeoooeooaoaooeoa!

The cacophony of noise sounded like eerie wailing from this distance, making the thick hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“What in the Roil is going on over there?” Krag muttered, bringing up his spyglass.

The eyes of the strange human wagons on the road were blinking open and closed like living things while giving off terrifying wails, and one of them was moving.

The boxy thing pulled off the road and turned to face them before it began moving toward them. It began moving toward them fast. Another flash and rumble sounded as the box wagon charged toward them, at speeds that outpaced their expensive faradan-clad boats.

“I don’t like the look of that,” one of the men, Smer, said, shaking his head.

“Who—”

BoomeeeboomeeeboomeeeBOOMEEEBOOOM!

The rumbles got louder as the strange contraption flew toward them, creating its own cloud of dust as it flew over the rough terrain, gouts of flame bursting in the air above it as it charged.

Krag had a decision to make. He had to decide right here and now whether the value they would get out of the caravan was worth the damage to his boat and crew.

“Turn the ship around. We’ll go after easier prey.”

***Jeb Trapper***

“And that,” Jeb said as he came to a lurching halt in front of the caravan, “is how you perform a threat display.” Jeb craned his neck to study the retreating cloud of dust.

“Much appreciated,” Brav’s dad said, nodding.

“We should get the fuck outta here before they realize it.”

“Agreed.”

Chapter 10: Road Trip

Jeb loomed over a map of the west coast, practically butting heads with Smartass as they both surveyed the details.

“Okay, here’re the POIs,” Jeb said, circling the three oil refineries in California, the candy factories between here and L.A., and Silicon Valley.

Jeb found his eyes sliding to the east, where Las Vegas stood. Only two hundred miles away from L.A.

“What’s in Las Vegas?” Smartass asked, following his gaze.

“Sex clubs. Lots and lots of sex clubs. They’d be my number two choice for places that can spawn good vibes lenses, right after hippy music festivals and right before SCA meetups. Except these are fixed locations.”

“You realize these places are actually twice as far away from each other as they would normally be because of the Stitching, right?”

Hmmm.

Jeb located himself on the I-5, then used a Blue’s Clues ruler