A Little Trip

Webfic Writing Challenge: Write a story involving a person with a disability, 2000 word limit.

=================================

With a solid kick, Jast dislodged the door of the all-terrain, six-wheeler truck, sending it flying a few dozen feet away. Getting a good foothold on the edge of the door frame, he leaped away from the toppled vehicle, his prodigious strength sending him arcing through the air. Twins hunks of metal and wire trailed off his shoulders, throwing off his weight more than he expected. He tried to land on his feet, but his trajectory was already spinning at an awkward angle. Only a quick curling of his torso allowed him to avoid face planting into the ground. Instead, he used his momentum to hit the ground in a roll, somersaulting twice, then thrust himself onto his feet. His landing left a bare streak in the thin layer of mud that caked the ground, leaving some plastered on his back.

After he’d steadied himself, he looked at his trashed vehicle, now about thirty feet away. He looked up to see the rugged cliffs on either side of him; the narrow gorge he’d fallen in was at least a hundred feet deep. The bright noon sun was just overhead, illuminating the dull tan and grey layers of the rock, and the dark brown mud of the gorge’s bottom. It wouldn’t be long before the sun moved on, leaving the gorge in deep shadow.

As Jast’s his eyes trailed down the rock wall and back to the truck, he noted that around the six-wheeler, several large chunks of logs had all but shattered upon impact with the ground around the vehicle. He sighed. What had appeared to be a solid natural bridge, over grown and half-covered in earth, had in fact been a log bridge so old and rotten, he doubted it would have held half the weight of his vehicle.

He glanced to either side of himself. He was more or less okay; his natural body was superhumanly strong and durable. He could have dropped down from the cliff and landed on his feet without a problem, but being thrown around the truck as it banged off the sides of the cliff had sent him spinning. While it hadn’t done much to hurt him, the experience had once again proven that his robotic arms were less durable than he was. They hung limply at his sides, the left arm dangling only by some cords, the right noticeably bent, the delicate gears and pistons crushed out of alignment. Don’t let the comics fool you; cyborg tech had nothing on good old fashioned invulnerability.

Having arms was useful, though. It meant not always having to use his feet as exceptionally clumsy hands. They would have been great for helping him scale the sides of the gorge. He glanced back and forth, looking for the shortest distance between the two rock walls. He noticed a spot that seemed a bit narrower than the rest, where only fifty feet separated them.

He glanced at his right arm. It was still powered, even though it refused to move; the com-link built into the forearm should still be working. He knelt down, positioning the limp prosthetic along his right knee. He pushed his nose against the small panel and nudged it up, then bumped a small button beneath.

Static sounded from the tiny speaker next to the button. Jast scowled. Shaking his head, he stood up and went to the truck, stopping at the windshield. He looked inside until he spotted a piece of bright red just behind the seat. Lacking a more graceful option, he kicked the windshield solidly, shattering it. He swept the crumbling glass away with his foot. Kneeling down, he waddled into the truck’s cabin, leaned down, and used his teeth to grip the red cloth. A solid yank pulled his travel pack free.

Shuffling back out of the truck, he spent another half a minute wriggling his right arm through the straps, then tying it securely to that side. Then, he returned to the narrower part of the gorge. He stood at one end, took a breath, then dashed to the other wall. About halfway into his run, he leaped as high as he could.

He managed a good twenty-five feet high, and his boots planted solidly against the wall. Unfortunately, its rough surface, the mud on his shoes, and the lopsided weight of the pack made him slip as he tried to push off. He tumbled to the ground, belly-flopping onto the thin layer of mud over hard earth. Invulnerable or not, the force of the blow knocked the wind out of him.

After several agonizing moments of breathlessness, he managed to gasp and cough some air in and out of his lungs, until he could breathe normally again. Rolling onto his feet once more, he was now utterly drenched in the dark mud. Sighing in frustration, he took a moment to collect himself, then tried again.

After the third failed attempt, he had the idea to kick his boots off, hoping that he could use his toes for an extra grip, When that didn’t quite work out, he used his feet to scrape a line of the ground free of the thin mud, then scraped the soles clean on the rock face before trying once more. Even then, his strongest kicks landed him well below the apex of his leap.

By the time he finally landed on the grassy top of the gorge, the shadows had already swallowed its bottom. Jast lay on the ground, breathing heavily. He wished his strength was as considerable as his durability. Then maybe he could have just leaped over the whole damn thing. With a small huff, he rolled onto his feet again. Glancing around, he assessed his location, and let out an irritated groan as he saw he was back on the side of the gorge he’d started at.

Well, at least now his com-link worked. Taking a seat beneath a nearby tree, he made the call to headquarters, and waited.