Antumbra - A Lost Cause

Veszteség - Chapter Fifty One

The night was sleepless, and Arva couldn't relax. There was no way she could have, as every time she closed her eyes they felt incapable of remaining shut, and every time they opened she saw Katalin on the floor. She slept soundly, innocently, while Arva felt like she was about to be crushed beneath her burdens. Her thoughts were filled with vivid images of soldiers, guns, death and fire. It was getting harder and harder to cope with, and she worried they would be back for her. The IRT didn't give up, Sam said it himself. They would be back, and if they found Arva there would be no telling what could happen. As much as it hurt, she decided to leave in the middle of the night. Arva was rested, healed, fed, and had warm clothes. She could make it to town in Antumbra, hide it in some snow drift like before, and call for help. Boomer and Kyodai were still out there, and maybe if she kept going she could contact them. She grabbed her coat and pants she had been given, slipped on her boots, and walked quietly out into the night. The air was frigid but still, and it didn't snow. Perfect weather as far as she was concerned, she just needed to make sure she limped Antumbra far enough from the homestead to not wake anyone, but it would take her less than a day to move her damaged machine that far, most of which could be done under the cover of dark if she left that instant.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked from the doorway as Arva stopped just meters from the house. She turned back to face him, but couldn't look him in the eyes, her gaze falling to the snow.

"I thought it'd be best if I left now," she said, rubbing her hands together, "just in case those men came back. You were right, I can't put your family at risk any longer."

"While that's fairly noble of you," said Sam, "you'll never make it to town on foot at night."

"I won't be on foot," she said, "my... vehicle is hidden nearby. It's damaged, but I might be able to limp away-" She swallowed nervously, "figuratively speaking, that is..."

"Tell ya what," Sam said, "let me grab my tools. I may be able to help fix her up."

"I don't think you can fix this," she said, "but if I can get in contact with my Lieutenant they can send someone who can."

"You really are a soldier, then..." Sam said, somewhat angry. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out Arva's dog tags. In all the excitement she never even realized she didn't have them. Sam approached her, holding the tags to her eye level. Arva held out a hand to accept them, keeping her eyes averted, but stood her ground. Now wasn't the time to waste words on apologies and arguments. For the Kovacs' sake she needed to leave as soon as possible, and take this looming threat with her.

"Take care of your family," Arva said, "they're the most important thing."

"We can agree on that, I suppose," Sam smiled. Arva didn't say goodbye, but she didn't feel she had to. It was better this way, Katalin wouldn't have to say goodbye, and she didn't have to risk anyone's lives if she were discovered. Arva trudged through the snow, trying to remember the path she last took, but ultimately just followed her senses that guided her to Antumbra's location. Sure enough she found the familiar ridge, and after climbing it saw the mound where her machine slept. It was totally covered by the snow now, but she could still vaguely deduce its posture, and correctly assumed the cockpit's location. It hissed open, and trace amounts of steam formed in the frigid air. It had stayed warm inside, somehow, and Arva climbed in. She took off her coat and tucked it behind the harness where there was space, and let the machine form itself to her.

"You're feeling much better," Arva mused quietly. Antumbra didn't feel as sluggish or broken, which confused her, and it wasn't until she tried to stand that she realized her leg was no longer rigid. She sat up in the snow, letting the white powder rain off her and examined her suit's knee. The armour was still mangled, but the joint had been partially repaired somehow. She used Antumbra's optical zoom, and saw tiny armatures, about the size of her actual fingers, cutting, fusing and reshaping the metal in the joint. Antumbra could repair itself, albeit slowly and in a limited fashion, but it had never done this before. Granted, it had never been so badly damaged, but that's when Arva remembered something. The fuses she'd flipped when it first deactivated, some were in the off position. She'd switched them all on, and maybe this was something she inadvertently activated.