Chapter 43: Chapter 42: The Ferrous Jungle

The Howling Plains faded into the rearview mirror, but the relief was short-lived.

Ahead of the Pendelton Cruiser, the Ironwood Forest loomed like a fortress wall made of nature.

These weren’t normal trees. They were ancient oaks and pines that had absorbed the heavy metallic particulates from the soil for centuries. Their bark was grey and hard as cast iron. Their leaves were sharp, metallic slivers that chimed in the wind like a thousand tiny bells.

Arthur brought the car to a halt at the tree line. The massive rubber tires crunched over the hard, metallic soil.

“Damage report,” Arthur called out, flipping switches on the overhead console.

Zack pulled the iScrolls out of the lead-lined glovebox. He pressed the power rune. The screen flickered, then stabilized.

“System rebooting,” Zack said, adjusting his glasses. “The Runeware seems intact. The quartz wafers didn’t crack during the storm. Map data is loading.”

“Good,” Arthur sighed. “If we had lost the navigation Runeware, we’d be navigating by moss.”

“Moss doesn’t grow on the north side here,” Vivian noted, looking out the window. “It grows on the magnetic side.”

She pointed to a tree. A patch of glowing red moss clung to the bark, pulsing faintly.

“Magnetic Moss,” Arthur identified. “Feeds on polarity. Stay away from it; it messes with the compass.”

“Can we eat it?” Julian asked from the back seat, still rubbing his sore arm.

“If you want your stomach to become a magnet, sure,” Arthur said. “We’re going in. Windows up. Air filtration on. This forest breathes rust.”

….

Arthur shifted into low gear. The car rolled into the shadows of the Ironwood.

It was dark. The canopy above was so dense that little sunlight filtered through. What light did make it down was tinted a sickly orange by the rust on the leaves.

CLANK. SCRAPE. SCREEE.

The sounds of the forest were mechanical. Branches rubbed together with the sound of knives sharpening.

“The path is narrowing,” Arthur muttered, wrestling the steering wheel. The Cruiser was wide—seven feet across—and the iron trees didn’t yield.

BANG.

The side mirror clipped a trunk. The mirror didn’t break; the tree didn’t budge. The car shuddered.

“Careful with the paint!” Julian winced. “We just waxed it!”

“It’s a tank, Julian, not a carriage,” Arthur grunted. “Paint is ablative armor.”

They drove for an hour at a crawling pace. The GPS on the Runeware showed a straight line, but the reality was a zig-zag obstacle course.

“Stop,” Vivian said suddenly. Her hand went to her sword.

Arthur slammed the brakes. “What is it?”

“Movement,” Vivian pointed to the right. “In the brush. Low to the ground.”

Arthur turned on the external spotlights. Beams of white light cut through the gloom.

Nothing. Just twisted metal roots and piles of dead, rusted leaves.

“I don’t see anything,” Zack whispered.

“I heard it,” Vivian insisted. “Like… clicking. Lots of clicking.”

Arthur looked at his dashboard sensors. The Seismic Monitor (a needle suspended in oil) was vibrating slightly.

“Micro-tremors,” Arthur noted. “Something is digging.”

Suddenly, the front of the car dropped two feet.

“Whoa!” Julian yelled as the car pitched forward.

“Sinkhole!” Arthur slammed the car into Reverse. He floored the gas.

The wheels spun. Mud and metal shavings sprayed everywhere. But the car didn’t move backward. It was sinking deeper.

“It’s not a sinkhole!” Vivian shouted, looking out the side window. “The ground is moving! Look!”

The dirt around the tires was boiling. Hundreds of small, crab-like creatures erupted from the earth. They had shells made of rusted scrap metal and pincers that glowed with blue heat.

[Threat Identified: Scrappers.] [Type: Insectoid/Construct Hybrid.] [Diet: Metal.]

“Scrappers!” Arthur yelled. “They eat iron! They’re trying to eat the tires!”

CRUNCH.

A Scrapper latched onto the front bumper. Its pincers began to glow. It snipped through a steel bolt like it was a carrot.

“They’re dismantling the car!” Zack screamed. “We’re being stripped for parts!”

…

“We can’t drive out!” Arthur realized. “They’ve undermined the traction! Weapons free!”

“I’m on it!” Julian grabbed the Sun-Lance Rifle. He rolled down the window just an inch, stuck the barrel out, and fired.

ZAP.

The red beam hit a Scrapper. The creature exploded into a shower of molten slag.

“Good shot!” Arthur yelled. “But there are hundreds of them! Don’t overheat the Runeware in the rifle!”

Vivian kicked her door open.

“Vivian! Stay in the vehicle!” Arthur ordered.

“They’re underneath us!” Vivian shouted. “If they cut the brake lines, we’re dead!”

She leaped out onto the hood of the car. She didn’t use her rapier; she drew a second weapon she had scavenged from the workshop—a heavy, short-handled war hammer.

CLANG.

She smashed a Scrapper that was climbing the windshield. Its shell shattered.

“Get off my ride!” Vivian screamed, swinging the hammer like a pendulum of death.

Arthur looked at the swarm. They were pouring out of the ground, attracted by the immense amount of high-grade steel in the Cruiser. To them, the car was a buffet.

“We need to clear the wheels!” Arthur unbuckled his seatbelt. “Zack, take the wheel! When I say go, floor it!”

“Where are you going?” Zack cried, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Arthur grabbed a canister from the back—the wiper fluid.

Except it wasn’t water. It was a mixture of alcohol and alchemical solvent Arthur used to clean grease.

Arthur climbed out of the sunroof.

“Julian! Cover me!”

Arthur stood on the roof. Below him, the ground was a carpet of clicking, metallic crabs.

“Hey! Rust-Buckets!” Arthur yelled.

He threw the canister of solvent onto the swarm gathering at the front tires. The jug smashed, soaking the Scrappers in flammable liquid.

“Julian! Ignis!”

Julian leaned out the window. He didn’t use the rifle; he used his wand.

“Fireball!”

WHOOSH.

The solvent ignited. A wall of blue fire erupted around the front of the car.

The Scrappers shrieked—a high-pitched mechanical squeal—as the heat cooked them inside their metal shells. They scrambled back, retreating from the flames.

“Now, Zack! GO!” Arthur pounded on the roof.

Zack stomped on the gas pedal.

The V4 engine roared. With the Scrappers scattering, the tires found grip on the solid rock beneath the mud.

The car lurched forward, climbing out of the pit. Vivian grabbed the roof rack, holding on for dear life as the car bucked and surged.

“Don’t stop!” Arthur yelled, sliding back through the sunroof. “Drive until we hit hard rock!”

…

They drove for another mile, putting distance between them and the swarm, before stopping on a large, flat slab of granite where the Scrappers couldn’t burrow.

Arthur and Vivian jumped out to inspect the damage.

“The front bumper is chewed up,” Arthur noted, running his hand over the jagged metal marks. “Cowcatcher integrity at 80%. They ate the left headlight housing.”

“The tires?” Zack asked nervously.

Arthur kicked the massive rubber wheel. It was solid.

“Solid-state tires,” Arthur grinned. “They tried to bite them, but the alchemical resin tastes bad. We have some teeth marks, but structural integrity is 95%.”

Vivian wiped Scrapper-guts (which looked like oil) off her hammer. “I hate this forest. Everything here wants to eat us.”

“It’s the Mana Mutation,” Arthur explained, looking at a Scrapper carcass stuck in the grille. “The high mana density is forcing rapid evolution. These things used to be beetles. Now they are bio-mechanical recyclers.”

“We need to rest,” Julian said, leaning against the car. “And we need to eat those potatoes. My stomach is eating itself.”

…

They couldn’t camp outside. It was too dangerous.

So, they camped inside.

Arthur reconfigured the Cruiser’s interior. The front seats swiveled 180 degrees to face the back seats, creating a small “living room.”

Arthur placed a Magical Hot Plate (powered by the car’s auxiliary battery) on the center console.

“Dinner is served,” Arthur announced.

Menu:

Sliced Potatoes (Fried in Scrapper Oil… just kidding, vegetable oil).

Dried Beef Jerky (Rehydrated in Gravy).

Coffee (Black).

It wasn’t a banquet, but inside the warm, armored cabin, with the rain of rust-colored leaves falling softly on the roof, it felt luxurious.

“So,” Julian said, blowing on his coffee. “We survived the cliff. The storm. The crabs. What’s next?”

Arthur pulled out the iScroll. He tapped the screen, checking the Runeware diagnostics.

“We are approaching the Spine of Osgard,” Arthur pointed to the mountain range on the map. “We have to cross the pass. Elevation: 8,000 feet.”

“Snow?” Vivian asked.

“Yes,” Arthur nodded. “And something else.”

He pointed to a blinking icon on the map. It wasn’t a red dot (Enemy). It was a blue dot.

“A signal?” Zack asked.

“A distress beacon,” Arthur said. “Broadcasting in Atherian Code. It’s weak, but it’s there.”

“Another ruin?” Julian asked.

“Or another survivor,” Arthur said quietly. “The signal signature matches a Sentinel Unit. But it’s not set to ’Kill.’ It’s set to “Help.”

“A friendly Golem?” Vivian raised an eyebrow. “I thought they all wanted to vaporize us.”

“Maybe not this one.” Arthur shut down the slate to conserve power. “We investigate tomorrow. If it’s a Sentinel, it might have supplies. Or spare parts.”

“Or a bigger gun,” Julian added hopefully.

“Sleep,” Arthur commanded, dimming the cabin lights. “Zack, you have first watch on the radar. Wake me if the dots move.”

End of Chapter 42

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep