[ IP ] Patrol

“ Clear skies today. ” 
 
 There was silence for a while, except for the low humm of the Stalker ’ s engines and the dust crunching under its wheels. Even the wind, usually a dull whoosh somewhere off in the distance, was quiet. Evenly spaced supports passed by with a painful slowness. 
 
 _ “ Mm. ” _ Finally came the answer, crackling in his ear. He spent a few moments savoring that little bit of human contact. The sound of acknowledgment, gentle interest with nothing insightful to add, the suggestion of music in the background. Thompson, the bastard, got to drive today. Well, joke ’ s on him, figured the one with ‘ Smith ’ on the chest and shoulder of his fatigues, at least up top he wasn ’ t the one who ’ d have to to maintain this torturously slow speed and constant curve around the wall. 
 
 “ Even the wind ’ s quiet. ” He added, eventually. You had to be careful with your small talk on perimeter patrol. Spend all of it at once, and you ’ d have nothing to say for several hours. Nothing to see but the city wall on your left and the wasteland to the right. In maybe half an hour they ’ d come up to the burned-out husk of a dozer. Nothing to do but watch the endless wall for damage from an angle the towers couldn ’ t. Mind-numbing and dreary. It was hard enough not to go crazy. 
 
 _ ” Dust ’ s hugging the ground, too. ” _ chirped the earpiece. On the armored front, Smith shifted slightly, with sudden interest at the newly found topic. 
 
 “ Giving you any trouble? ” He answered immediately. Almost as if having a normal conversation. 
 
 _ ” In a Stalker? Please. ” _ 
 
 And yet, try as he might, nothing new to say came. “ Mm. ” Smith answered, and that was that. 
 
 Time passed. Supports passed. Another tower also passed. Somewhere up front, a shuttle lifted off from a high rise ’ s landing strut. Not even worth commenting upon. 
 
 And then… 
 
 “ ‘ May the Lord forgive you ’? ” 
 
 _ “ Hm? ” _ But the voice on the other end figured it out quickly enough. _ “ Where? ” _ 
 
 “ Top of a support. ” 
 
 _ “ I don ’ t see -- huh, you ’ re right. ” _ Writing on the wall wasn ’ t anything new. The outcasts and other undesirables were always writing something or other on it, and a dust storm or two would scour it off soon enough. But it was unusual to see one so high up. 
 
 “ Mm. Damn zealots. ” 
 
 More time passed. The scrawl was long out of sight by the time Smith ’ s earpiece buzzed with a lone _ “ Heh. ” _ 
 
 “ What ’ s up? ” 
 
 _ ” Did you know the nomads call hellions that? ” _ 
 
 It took Smith a moment to replay the conversation, such as it were, in his head. “ What, zealots? ” 
 
 _ ” Mm. ” _ 
 
 “ I thought they called them nomads? ” But this time, he didn ’ t wait for an answer. “ What brought this on, anyway? ” 
 
 _ ” I heard one of the riot crews talking. Word is some nomads have been spotted in one of the junk settlements? ” _ 
 
 That took a while to moment to deal with. More of the wall, passed by. Supports, a dust mound, more supports, a tower, all moving before Smith ’ s eyes as he mulled it over. 
 
 “ That ’ s insane. ” He declared eventually, a nagging feeling starting to form. “ They walk on four legs and claim to use magic. There ’ s no way they ’ d _stop the car! _ ” 
 
 The brakes squealed. The tires slid on dust. Smith ’ s body yanked forward but kept his grip on the railing. He was thinking. Furiously. Something wasn ’ t right. 
 
 _ ” What the hell, man?! ” _ An annoyed voice buzzed in his ear. 
 
 “ Give me a minute... “ He muttered distractedly. Something wasn ’ t right. There was silence around them. Not even the wind. 
 
... there weren ’ t any wind. 
 
 “ Back up. ” 
 
 _ ” What? ” _ 
 
 “ Back up. About two hundred or so. ” 
 
 There was an annoyed muttering in the earpiece, but the engines whined in reverse. The wheels kicked up dust and tiny stones. There was a dust mound against the wall, he was sure of it. But… he couldn ’ t see it now. The more he looked, the more it wasn ’ t there. Something wasn ’ t right. Something nagging at the back of his mind. 
 
 _ “ What the hell are you looking at like that? It ’ s just the damn wall! Same as every other bit we ’ ve passed so far! ” _ 
 
 And then it hit him. 
 
 “ Thompson? ” 
 
 _ ” What? ” _ 
 
 “ Look at the wall. ” 
 
 _ ” The hell --?! ” _ 
 
 “ Are you looking? ” 
 
 _ ” What the -- ” _ 
 
 “ Look at the damn wall, Thompson! ” 
 
 _ ” Okay, I ’ m looking, eesh! What now? ” _ 
 
 “ How many supports are there between each tower? ” 
 
 _ ” What kind of -- ” _ 
 
 Smith furrowed his brow, eyes still fixed on the wall. Something was trying to make him look away. But this was important. 
 
 “ How many? ” 
 
 _ ” Eight, damnit! Everybody knows that! ” _ 
 
 “ Count them. ” 
 
 _ ” I ’ m telling you, eight, you -- ” _ 
 
 “ Count them! ” 
 
 _ ” Oh for -- Look, one, two, three, four, five, six -- what the shit? ” _ 
 
 Smith exhaled a breath he didn ’ t realize he was holding. He wasn ’ t going blind, or crazy. “ I ’ m gon na take a closer look. ” He said, gripping his rifle tighter and jumping off the Stalker. “ Get somebody on laslink, will you. ” 
 
 _ ” Oh yeah, what am I gon na tell them? ” _ Thompson messaged back, but the sarcastic confidence was gone from his voice, replaced with confusion. _ ” Somebody stole part of the wall? ” _ 
 
 Smith paused, stumped for a moment. Up close, the wall loomed even more than usual, and looked just as solid and weathered. He turned, and started walking alongside it. No defects, no breaches, just… seven supports. He counted them again, then shuddered at the explosion of sound in his ear. 
 
 _ ” WHAT the shit?! ” _ The volume compensation kicked in too late, and Smith covered his ears on instinct, curling up. He ’ d turned to glare at the parked Stalker and, by extension, its driver, but before he could say anything, his earpiece buzzed again. _ “ Okay, okay… walk back? There ’ s something going on… ” _ 
 
 There was something about the tone, some importance that overrode Smith ’ s annoyance. He took a step back, then another. 
 
 _ ” Holy mother of -- you ’ re just... blinking from place to… gah! Gives me a headache just to look! Something ’ s messed up, man! ” _ 
 
 Smith frowned, and turned around towards the wall. Or tried to, at least. A sense of magical vertigo slammed into him like a sledgehammer, knocking him right off his feet. 
 
 _ ” Smith? Holy shit, Smith!? ” _ 
 
 “ What? ” He complained, with a pained voice, again glaring at the armored car. 
 
 _ ” I can ’ t see you! You just… disappeared! ” _ 
 
 The glare turned to a surprised look. He could see the Stalker just fine. And behind him… he turned his head, slowly. He wasn ’ t counting, but he was sure he ’ d see eight supports now. Mostly because he ’ d be sure he ’ d have noticed that the segment between two of them was covered in carvings. 
 
 “ Thompson? ” 
 
 _ ” Yeah? ” _ 
 
 And that they were glowing. 
 
 “ You got somebody on laslink? ” 
 
 _ ” Yeah? ” _ 
 
 And even if he hadn ’ t ever seen runescript before, let alone read it… 
 
 “ Tell ‘ em there's a problem. ” 
 
 … he was pretty sure he shouldn ’ t see, through a glowing doorway, straight into an alley on the other side of the thick wall. 
 
 “ We've got a breach. ” 
 
 -- -- 
 
 _Wanna hear more about [ hellions/zealots ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/vonBoomslang/comments/22ex0v/078_so_you_wanna_hear_about_vores/? ref=search_posts )? Or maybe just [ more of my writing? ] ( /r/vonBoomslang ) _
