Justin Kemppainen - The Legend of Ivan

Ivan held up a hand, setting down the egg. Hopping back over to where Olga lay, he knelt and placed a hand on the weapon.

Another soft rustle occurred, this time on the opposite side of the nest.

Cobb shot a look over at Grey, whose eyes darted back and forth. “The rifle,” he said to Cobb, “bring it here, now!”

Shaking with fear, Cobb shuffled over to the dropped flechette rifle. It was covered in mud, but he brought it back to the fallen Grey, who painfully leaned up on an elbow. He took the weapon in one arm and scanned the underbrush.

“Something comes,” Ivan said.

Bipedal lizard-creatures burst out of the jungle on all sides, a deafening cacophony of screeching noises accompanying their charge.

Cobb’s life flashed before his eyes when he saw what appeared to be smaller, man-sized versions of Max, or Maxine. They ran on two legs but were brandishing longer forelimbs tipped with vicious claws. Their own scaly hides shimmered in the mid-day sun.

Grey didn’t hesitate. With the soft fupp! of the flechette rifle, one creature’s head burst against the cloud of razor-sharp needles. Cobb screamed as Grey continued firing, cursing under his breath. Several more fell.

Glancing over, Cobb’s jaw dropped to see Ivan engaged in melee combat with the vicious creatures. The large man swung the cannon in wide arcs, smashing the heavy weapon into the heads and bodies of the beasts. A wild grin stood out on his face as he worked his way towards his comrades, the cannon whipping back and forth and keeping the creatures at bay.

Grey’s face contorted in a snarl as he fired upon the monsters that continued to spill from the jungle. Cobb cowered between the two men as they defended the weak position. After running dry on ammo, Grey cast aside the rifle and yanked two energy pistols from holsters. Weak flashes, nowhere near the full potential of the deadly light, blinded and burned a couple of the creatures.

Something hit Cobb in the back. He was knocked sprawling to the ground with something heavy on top of him, and sharp daggers pierced into his back. The wind squeezed out of his lungs, and he tried to scream.

Ivan whirled around, hurling the cannon into the midsection of the beast. Cobb, though disoriented, heard an audible crack as the creature’s bones shattered under the impact, and the iron behemoth dragged it to the ground. Cobb watched it weakly struggling, intense pain obvious in its eyes.

Cobb screamed as he saw another creature charging him, claws brandished and mouth wide open, either weapon prepared to tear out his throat.

Ivan’s gloved fist smashed into the side of the beast’s face, awareness vanishing from its eyes as it stumbled and fell upon Cobb.

The unconscious creature’s hard skull impacted Cobb’s own, and he was knocked completely senseless.

The barman stood silent for a moment, in thought. It wasn’t unusual, every so often during the story he would stumble over a piece or two of information and halt in consideration. Many times he’d interject and mention that a certain bit was one of Cobb’s more elaborate embellishments. Francis had heard the story enough times to determine his own version of the truth regarding it.

“’Course, the way Cobb said it some days, he snatched up one of them energy pistols and cooked a few of the ambushin’ beasts himself.” The barman shrugged.

I considered the possibilities. “That seems doubtful, considering his average mental state.”

Francis nodded. “Yep. But, anyway, Cobb said he woke up a few hours later with a splitting headache back in the camp. It seemed Ivan and Grey had already packed up ol’ Maxine and a few of the littler ones and blasted themselves outta there.”

“What about Cobb himself?”

“He didn’t stick around too much longer. One really, really close call was enough. He took the wages he’d made, minus penalties for dodging early, and split. ‘Course…” he chuckled, “wasn’t but a few years later someone found a better use for that game preserve.”

Having done a measure of research, I was somewhat aware of what happened. “Copper, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, indeed. Soma-Corp caught wind of a worthwhile copper deposit. The proprietors of Hunter’s End were buried under a mountain of regulatory paperwork and threats. Rather than deal with the sticky mess, management cut a deal and sold it. Less’n a few months later, Soma vaporized everything on the planet and started to mine it hollow. That was it for Hunter’s End.”

I cracked a smirk. “Which has made obtaining records of people who traveled there somewhat difficult.”

“I’d imagine so.”

I thought for a moment. “You indicated that he had been telling this story for many years. Have the names ever changed within it?”

“You mean: did Cobb ever decide that the story would get more listeners if it was accredited to Ivan instead of someone else?” Francis peered down his nose at me.

I nodded.

Shaking his head, he replied, “I don’t think so. Of all the things, the details that jumped back and forth in Cobb’s little tale, it’s always been about Ivan. That’s why I always wondered if there might be somethin’ to it, ya know?”

We lapsed into silence, each contemplating.

The barman cleared his throat. “So where ya headin’ now, Archivist?”

“Uncertain. In some fashion, I intend to seek out Traverian Grey and discover if he has any further details regarding Ivan or his whereabouts.”

Francis widened his eyes. “Traverian… you know about that Mr. Grey?”

“He’s well-known in certain places. His inclusion is one of the reasons I suspect a measure of truth in Cobb’s tale.” Energy and excitement, the potential to find and distill further information, was almost intoxicating. “He was a mercenary of the most mercenary sort. He worked for whoever paid, simply enough, and he was very skilled. A job like this would be something he’d do.”

“Wow…” Francis shook his head. “I never guessed there was that much to Cobb’s story. I mean, he never did much more than drink when he was around. And hell, stuff about Ivan, people who knew him, met him, or pulled a heist with ’im were flyin’ all over the place. Hell, I even met a few blokes claimin’ to be Ivan. I know he had the name right, but I still sorta thought Cobb was just grabbin’ a piece of the legend for himself. Do you think it all really happened?”

I smiled. “Yes and no. If nothing else Cobb said was true, I think Ivan was there on Hunter’s End, and Cobb at least saw him. Could be someone else was the guide, or Cobb could have been telling the truth about everything.”

“Sheesh…” The barman swallowed, pinpricks of sweat standing out on his forehead. “You… you think then some of the other stuff they say about Ivan is true? Do you think he really blew up an entire—”

I held up a hand. “It isn’t clear as of yet, but I will find out.” I stood up, placing my wide-brimmed hat back atop my head. Straightening the long coat I wore, I gave him a nod. “Thank you, good sir, for your time and hospitality.”

“T’were my pleasure, Archivist.” Francis gave a bow. As I stepped towards the exit, the barkeep cocked his head and called out. “Hey, what did you say your name was?”

Turning back, I smiled one last time at this man I’d be doubtful to see again. “I didn’t. You may call me Sid.”

The barman nodded. “Well, I wish ye the best of luck in your search, Master Sid.”

“Thank you,” I said, stepping through the doors and into daylight.

The search had begun.

Assignment: Seeking information regarding the truth and whereabouts of Ivan.