Apocalypse Parenting

Thirty minutes later, Benjamin was blasting away at the treezilla’s trunk with one oversize bullet after another, sending showers of splinters into the air with every hit. I was glad we’d been able to use the Minor Matter Replicators to duplicate his ammo, because the Maffiyir was beyond the planning abilities of even the most intensive preppers. The big gun was clearly damaging the treezilla, but it was taking a lot of bullets.

A strong person with a Shop-purchased axe might do more, but they’d be taking their life into their hands to do it. This might be slow, but it’s safe. At least it’s dead easy to hit from a distance.

The trunk was wider than most real trees would be, stretching nearly ten feet across. The branches reminded me of a willow, but now that the fence had been blasted away from in front of it, I realized the proportions reminded me more of those fat African trees. What were they called? I couldn’t bring the name to mind. Eidetic memory only helped me with things I’d actively committed to remembering since acquiring the skill.

Maybe I should take some time to skim an encyclopedia or something.

I shoved the thought aside. I needed to focus. The massive stationary trunk made an easy target, and none of Benjamin’s shots were missing. I was supposed to keep Analyze on and watch for when the invulnerability started, since there supposedly wasn’t any announcement or obvious cue.

Eventually, I lifted a hand and the booming gun quieted. “That last hit didn’t do the damage it ought to. Time to move in.”

We’d been joined by three additional combat groups as we waited; this close to our home, there was no reason not to use overwhelming force.

A wave of three dozen birds and about half as many ferrets charged as we drew nearer, proof that the treezilla had been holding back. If it had just been my dozen-odd cohorts, the wave could have overwhelmed us, but with our additional help we barely slowed. There was still more than one human for every attacking monster.

From this distance, I could see the treezilla was largely hollow. A latticework of organic supports cocooned an empty area with a pulsing column at its core. Tiny sacs along the column grew and burst open, sending more birds and ferrets out at us.

A branch crashed down toward me, forcing me to dodge. The Arsenal had told us that the range of the roots and branches was larger than I’d have expected, but they couldn’t give us an exact range since each tree was slightly different. Even with prior warning, I was shocked. That thing is only thirty feet tall and we’re still close to a hundred feet away!

Our little army spread out, forcing the tree to divide its attacks. The roots were slow, lacking the whiplike speed of the branches above, just as the Arsenal had said. They were most dangerous against opponents who didn’t know to be wary, although they could still block our movement… that was dangerous enough in itself, with the whump-whump-whump of the branches slamming against the ground. One branch tried to sweep a woman with Flight out of the sky and missed, crashing through the roof of the nearby house.

It’s hitting hard.

George had generously volunteered to be the shit-talker this time, and he stepped forward to be sure he was close enough to the treezilla - the Arsenal had said this wouldn’t work unless you were actually within striking range of the massive monster. We’d run a quick test, and it seemed they were correct. “This is too easy!” he bellowed.

Immediately, a larger sac begin swelling in the depths of the shattered tree trunk. I had to dodge another branch-strike and actually managed an almost-credible roll to the side, barely stumbling at all as I made it back to my feet. There was no time to be proud of myself, however: the sac burst, and a miniature version of the large tree burst out, dubbed a “treewalker” by the Arsenal.

As the name implied, this monster was definitely not stationary, approaching us shockingly quickly, using its roots like tentacles. Like its parent, it cracked its branch-tentacles in whiplike motions, pummeling anyone nearby.

Wait, though! Did the big tree… it did! I blasted out a quick Announcement.

Area around the treewalker should be safe from the treezilla’s branch strikes. I’ve seen one attack aborted and another redirected when they would have damaged its offspring.

Taking my own advice, I charged in close to the smaller tree. I took a raking blow from one of the little birds as it dive-bombed me from behind, slicing the sleeve of my shirt and scratching the skin of my shoulder. I’d seen it coming, of course, but my hard-won combat instincts were now all wrong. I expected my sword in my right hand and my shield in my left, so when I’d half-turned to slice it down, I’d instead waved my shield at it uselessly. I’d realized my mistake almost immediately, but even if the little birds were weak, they were fast.

Assisted Strike! I admonished myself. Always! You’ve gotten good enough to not always need it, but now the difficulty has been upped. And your shield is in your right hand now. Your RIGHT.

My mental recriminations were interrupted by another attack, this time a blow from the treewalker. A root to my left and an ally to my right made dodging a dicey proposition, so I activated Parry and huddled behind my shield.

The extra force from the ability was sufficient to let me block the blow and then some. Splinters drifted down around me as the treewalker withdrew its damaged limb. I readied myself for another attack, but no second strike came. The reason why was obvious: while the treewalker was resilient, my hundred-some allies had been pelting it with bullets and supernatural abilities since the instant it had arrived. The fact that the treewalker had stayed alive for multiple seconds under such an onslaught was impressive, but that was its limit. The surface of its trunk was littered with damage and it was bowed over around a massive missing section, creaking precariously for a moment before dispersing into a fading cloud of nanomachines.

A lustrous amber teardrop appeared where it had been, and Veronica caught it before it could fall, charging forward to slam it into the core of the treezilla, which we’d been told would kill it. Force Shields popped up, guarding her as she ran. The pointed end of the amber tear sunk easily into the treezilla’s pulsing heart column, bypassing the invulnerability. The surface of the trunk and many of the roots grew withered. Three of the branches actually rotted away and fell to the ground.

I felt myself relax… then frowned and focused on Analyze.

The tiny monster sacs in the center of the trunk were still growing. More slowly, but they were still growing. “It’s not dead! Guys! Don’t relax! It’s not dead!”

Veronica backed away, eyes wide. “What? No. I did it just how they told me to… They already killed two this way. This hurt it! It’s just taking a while to die.”

I swung an iron plate in front of her with Telekinesis. The root clutched at the obstruction, decoying it away from her legs for a critical second. “It’s definitely not dead!”

“Meghan!” George yelled, waving his dulled bracelet at me. “Insult it!”

With a jolt, I realized he was right. I could summon another treewalker. We could do this again. We had the people. Everyone looked nervous, but we hadn’t taken many injuries, and only one had been serious. We’d wiped out all the tiny monsters, and a good portion of the treezilla’s branches, and even damaged some of the roots. More small monsters were appearing, but slowly, and its ability to attack us had been greatly diminished.

“Fine! But we do this smart.” I shifted to an Announcement to be sure everyone heard.

Everyone, clear a path. Don’t get in the way of Ben’s gun! Ben, fire as soon as you see it.

People hurried to the sides and I gulped, raising my voice. “This thing is way too weak to stand up to us!”

Eligibility verified. Complaint registered. Intensifying.

My bracelet dimmed and a new sac on the trunk began swelling. A massive bullet flattened itself against it. Damn, I thought. I guess the growing treewalker is still protected by the treezilla’s immunity. Good on Ben for trying, though.

Ben held his fire until the treewalker hatched. The moment the sac burst, another bullet slammed into the monster’s side, leaving smoke pouring out of a ragged hole.

“Attack!” I yelled. My instructions were unnecessary, my voice drowned out by the retort of dozens of guns - I’d have to have a healer repair my hearing later - and the blinding flare of dozens of abilities.

The new treewalker didn’t even get to attack anyone, evaporating into smoke a bare ten feet from its parent, a few tardy bullets ricocheting off the amber teardrop that replaced it.

Hope that didn’t damage it, I thought, then Announced Cover Meghan! as I ran forward.

Words flickered into my mind as I picked up the teardrop, but I ignored them, simply flagging them for my Eidetic Memory to review later. Another treezilla branch swung toward me, but I ignored that too, protected by the literal tunnel of Force Shields my allies had erected. I vaulted through the aperture in the bark and slammed the teardrop into the central pillar. It slid in easily, bypassing the glistening coating that had made everything else bounce off. The remainder of the treezilla’s trunk withered and its branches dropped to the ground.

It didn’t vanish, and I felt my heart sink, using Analyze to search for signs of life. How much more do we have to do?

Then George yelled. “We got it! I was watching my Points: they just jumped by several thousand. It’s dead!”

“Where’s the other prizes?” someone else asked. “There’s gotta be like… a Titan’s Heart or something, right? Not just Points?”

“If there is, Colonel Zwerinski didn’t tell me about it.” Veronica said.

“Is everyone okay?” I called, flaring Analyze one last time as I looked over the assembled crowd. We’d gone in with 126 people and we still had… Wait, seriously? Everyone made it?

There were 82 of us still milling around the base of the tree, with ten more people guarding Ben and his gun emplacement, and 23 healers at work stabilizing our heavily injured people. There were 14 people severely injured - legs should not be that shape! - but I’d seen every one of them move. If the healers could stabilize everyone, we might not even have any permanent injuries; the pulverizing nature of the treezilla’s attacks meant that there ought to be something there for Healing Touch to restore. And with nearly two healers per heavily-hurt patient…

“We aced it,” I said softly. “No one dead. Maybe no lasting injuries?”

My words took some of the tension out of the crowd. Not everyone had Analyze and could instantly assess a situation the way I could.

“We did have a lot of advantages,” George said. “Getting a cheat sheet from the Arsenal really helped, even if needing more than one treewalker came as a surprise. Oh! Someone needs to tell the Arsenal-”

“Colonel Zwerinski was watching. He passed it along,” Veronica said. She gingerly prodded a withered root with her toe, her shoulders sagging. “I take back what I said earlier. Someone else can fight the new stuff next time. I’m over it.”

A wave of laughter rumbled through our assembled group.

If it had a slightly hysterical edge, if it didn’t quite reach anyone’s eyes… who could blame us?