Road Trip Part 5
By: CinC Most Holy

Synopsis:

Most Holy has just returned from a confrontation with an honorable clan
of X'hirjq. In exchange for his life, he gave them information on
non-spongifying music, both simply to survive and also in the hopes that
perhaps these lizards would listen to something other than the Lavender 
Leech's singing and reconsider their alliance. Yeah, right. Here he
was in the middle of an unknown forest, with nothing but a Ka-Bar, his 10
ga. shotgun- given him by Jason, the former CINC of MAUL as he lay dying 
on the battlefield- and a ration of Twinkies.
 
The noises of the forest around him started to grow quieter as Most Holy
leaned against a large tree. He was trying to figure out where he was and
if he had done the right thing, giving the X'hirjq information. He was
tired, in a weak state of mind, and suffering from a pain in his gut that
wouldn't go away.

"Better build a fire," he said to noone in particular. Gathering 
the wood together, he heard something small in the bushes. Out ran a 
jackrabbit, across his path and into the impending darkness of the woods. 
"Must be in the midwest", he thought, continuing his chore.

He returned to his site, built the fire and slumped down against the
nearest tree. The light of the fire was comforting, even if he had to 
build it with a fire drill. Too tired to think of shelter, he fell asleep.

The WyrmBot landed in a clearing just south of Council Bluffs, IA, in a
wooded area. Immediately it began to head west, intent on finding it's
prey. There was a human in this forest, and it must die.

Most Holy awoke to the sunrise, his fire having died out. The pain in his
gut was still there, and he was still as physically tired as  he had been.
The last few days really took their toll on him, and  combined with his
unfamiliar environment and not knowing what was going on, who was alive,
and where they were if they were alive, he felt apathetic. He knew why he
was a Jihaddi, the trials he had faced had proven that to him. He just
didn't have the strength to continue.

Ping! The WyrmBot's sensors picked up a human life form matching it's data
to the northwest. Standing nearly 25 feet tall, the 'Bot was armed with a
gatling-type weapon, shoulder mounted,a plasma canon and an RPG launcher,
both attached to it's arms. Having picked up the scent, it loudly made
it's way towards it's target, 2 miles away.

Most Holy had managed to stir from his position and was busy cleaning his
shotgun. He wasn't thinking, and before he noticed he had managed to clean
the weapon four times. He was in bad shape and knew it. The pain in his
gut was getting worse, and his sense of apathy was increasing.

"What's happening to me," he thought. He lifted his shirt and saw nothing
unusual.

"Could be internal bleeding. Could be something I ate. Could be-"

He heard something in the trees beyond, a muffled crash that sounded
distinctly like metal on wood. He slowly picked up his shotgun, knife and
rations, and began disappearing slowly into the cover, using a silent
walking technique taught to him by an old Sioux. He was moving slowly, but
couldn't be heard or seen by the time he saw the glint of metal in the
sun.

A WyrmBot, painted purple, with more firepower than he cared to think
about at the moment, was not 75 feet away and closing fast. It was 
of an automated nature, a hunter-killer fitted with so many antennae and 
sensors one would think it had been a listening post in a former life. 
This metal assasin was comming straight for him, and it was obvious to 
Most Holy that though he couldn't be seen, the damnable thing knew he was 
there.

Summoning up the last of his strength, Most Holy began a flat out run
through the woods, for about a hundred yards. He then began zig-zagging
back and forth, now going in circles and now heading left. He was running
like a deer, trying to confuse his predator. Convinced he had temprarily
lost it, he began to zig-zag less and stop every thirty yards to listen.
Nothing.

He kept going, though he was moving slower and getting even more worn
down. Everytime he stopped to listen, he heard nothing, but kept on 
going, motivated by forces unknown. Then: he heard the sound of, of 
something familiar. Something... like a road, a highway. He looked 
towards the noise and saw the end of the treeline. An occasional car or 
truck was going by. If he could hitch a ride, he could put some distance 
between him and-

That damned machine was there! It landed, like some GI Joe character with
a rocket pack, right in front of him. He aimed his shotgun for the head
structure and fired, only to be hit in the chest and arms by ricochet. The
WyrmBot raised it's plasma cannon towards him, and with the realization
that now, here, he was going to die, Most Holy blacked out.