Sparks
Sparks
By Raff
The sun was setting at the open end of the valley, its final ember glow bleeding out over the surface of the lake. At the sandy edge of the rippling water two friends lay, gazing up into the darkening sky. Nearby their catch buzzed and bumped lazily against the glass of several large jars, filling the area with a warm glow. It was firefly season, and the hunting had been good today. This would be more than enough to light the lanterns at the festival tomorrow, keeping the bustling booths and dances lit long into the night.
The hedgehog sighed happily, running a brown paw over his quills. He loved the summers, the festival with its lights, and above all watching the fox, as he was now. The young vulpine was running his fingers over the glass of a nearby jar, laughing as the glowing insects followed his touch. The hedgehog smiled too. Everything just seemed better when the fox was around, brighter and full of life. He could infuse anything with joy; all it took was that eager smile. He sighed again, laying back and letting the windswept lake lull him to sleep. A perfect day.
A few hours later both were sleeping peacefully, only the insect glow revealing them in the dark of the night. High overhead there was the faint hum of something flying past. A moment later a thin green mist fell. The fireflies flickered, then went dark.
The fox twitched slightly. Deep inside him countless hordes of tiny metal spiders swarmed through his bloodstream. With horrible quickness they let the current carry them to every inch of the fox's body, riding the oxygen into cells, then heading straight for that codex all cells use to reproduce, spreading it apart with long, black arms and beginning to make changes. The fox stirred restlessly.
A few feet away the same process repeated itself in the hedgehog. But here, as the spiders began to meddle their long arms caught on an unusual section of the codex. They drew back a moment, then continued, but their movements were erratic now, twitchy and hurried. And before they could finish, the spiders started to burst, one after another.
The hedgehog shot up with a start, howling as a strange pain shot through him. This only lasted a second, and as he caught his breath he glanced around suddenly. Why was it so dark? What had happened to the fireflies? He looked to where his friend had been sleeping, but the sand was empty. He called his name.
Two horrible red circles lit up, blazing through the darkness.
Eyes.
His own went wide, subconsciously scrambling to his feet and back a little. As the eyes stepped out from behind the large rock they had been camping by, into the moonlight, the hedgehog's body went rigid. Polished metal gleamed in the low light. Every inch of the creature that slowly approached him was hard, unyielding, vicious. For an instant he was frozen, mind and body refusing to move. Then the creature's muzzle wrenched open, head twisting in horrible growl, like gears grinding.
Instinct took over. The hedgehog bolted, scrambling away as fast as his legs would carry him. Dust filled the air, and a moment later he hit something and sprawled on the ground, dazed. By the time the dust settled he had picked himself up, only to discover the monster had somehow retreated almost a quarter of a mile. Then he blinked, realizing he was standing near the top of one of the valley walls, looking down at the monster, still near the rock. It hadn't moved.
He had.
As he struggled to process this the ground under his feet gave way and he found himself rapidly stumbling down the valley wall, back toward the monster, desperately trying to keep his balance. This shouldn't have been hard, but the curved wall of the valley was uneven and he felt strangely heavy for some reason, dense. Suddenly his foot snagged on something and he went head over tail.
The next few moments were a nauseating blur. He rolled, tumbled, bounced, flew through the air. His body uncurled slightly, just enough to see the monster in perfect clarity as he hurtled towards him, everything slowing to a crawl in his mind. The monster started to shift to one side, but it was too late. They collided with tremendous force. He could hear, FEEL the ripping, tearing as he went through the creature; its long, slender muzzle, small chest, its tails-
The hedgehog landed in the sand with a thud, bits of metal raining down around him, ground shaking with a few small explosions. When he scrambled up and looked behind him, there was only rubble left; a tangle of wires, metal, and shattered circuit boards.
He looked over the scene with utter confusion, absently running a paw over his quills, then gasping in pain and sharply pulling it back, into his view. Blood gently dripped from several long, fine cuts along his fingers. Reaching back gingerly, he discovered the quills had widened and flattened, like blades of grass. They were sharp now not only on the tips, but along the whole upper edge as well, like a thousand razor-edged blades. Curiously he grabbed a fractured piston from the ground, running it over the edge of his back. A moment later all but the edge he was holding fell to the ground, neatly sliced in sections.
He shook his head, casting this latest mystery aside with the others and trying to focus. Where was his friend? Then he saw it.
On their way to the beach they had played with the sand as they walked, walking backwards or with giant steps to leave strange tracks that the sand dutifully recorded. Despite the collision most of the sand near where he was standing was still undisturbed. And there were no tracks leading away from the camp.
He dug into the rubble, pulling out a gleaming bit of metal in a very familiar color, and suddenly the creature's face flashed in his memory, clearer now. The metal fell from his hand, his body shaking as he started to realize what had happened. In the months that followed he would often imagine that his friend was still there, right beside him, and that when he slashed through the monsters that attacked them the animals they had once been would spring out, grateful and unharmed, and run to safety.
But it was the comforting lie of a mind in denial. The fox was gone. They all were. In the electrical zombies that now filled the land there was nothing left to save, nothing to escape. All he could do was grind quill through metal and grant them the dignity of death.
As the hedgehog turned from the burning, twisted metal, tears warping his vision, just about to run far, far away, he caught his reflection in the moon-lit lake and leaned closer, noticing for the first time something he had missed in the adrenaline of the moment. The warm, friendly brown of his fur and quills was gone.
They had turned blue.