Iron

She bent over the sink, washing her hands thoroughly with soap; she cupped icy water in her hands, splashing it on her face. She refused to look at the countre.


"Man, those things are ugly." Pushing her sunglasses down her nose, Liz peered into the padded box and shuddered. "Eugh. They aren't gonna make my car short out or anything, are they?"

Running Brook rolls her eyes, giving Liz an exasperated look. "Only if you scare them, Liz," she sighed. Lifting her hat off her head, she began to fan herself with it. "I asked for you 'cause I heard you've got ways with creatures, make them all easy-like. You don't want to do it, I'm sure there's another hunter willing to move a box across two states for five hundred."

"I never said I wouldn't do it," Liz snapped, shoving her glasses back up. "Just wanna make sure I'm not gonna get stranded with these ugly mothers in the middle-a-nowhere. In case you hadn't realised, it's fuckin' hot out."

Running Brook's eyes glinted. "You'll get where you need to go, long as you don't scare them."


Knock, knock, knock.

It was weak, but christ, she didn't have the energy left to pound the knocker. No one told her he lived on the third fucking floor.

In the box, they warbled softly. Scared for her, scared of her; same fucking thing.

She shifted the box higher and knocked again.

"You're late. You were supposed to be here four hours ago."

The old man who opened the door glared at her; she just stared blankly in response.

"The damn 'birds fried my fucking car. Had to walk. Just give me my fucking money."

"They what? You scared them! Your fault! Now they'll be worthless for days, weeks even! No money!" His bony fingers reached out to snatch the poor battered box, but she lurched backwards, collapsing against the opposite wall.

"No money...no 'birds." Each gasp hurt; god, she needed water. And rest.

They warbled again. Slowly, laboriously, she slid against the wall, towards the stairs.

"I'll tell Running Brook they were refused on delivery."


Grimacing, Liz smacked the consul. It didn't help; the AC sputtered and died.

"Great. Just great. I hope you guys don't mind some air flow; I'm fuckin' dyin' in here."

The box chirped and crackled; she took that as a go a head. Sighing, she lowered all the windows, pressing down on the gas just a bit as the air swirled in. They were making good time; hell, she'd prolly make it to the destination early at this rate.

When the sun went dark, Liz didn't even blink. It wasn't until she glanced out the passenger window that she yelped, slamming on the brakes. The car spun, screeching across the blacktop until it came to an abrupt stop.

The box rocked on the seat and stilled; Liz gave it an absent pat, pulling out her sawed off.

"Okay, babies, you need to stay quiet now, kay? I'll be right back..." Fumbling her door open, Liz spun out, leveling her gun at the spectre in front of her.

"What the fuck?"


Closing her eyes, she stood up, still not looking. She should, what would it matter, 's'not like it would be important or anything.

A bitter laugh escaped her throat, rough and resigned. The 'birds chirped anxiously from the room.

She grabbed it, eyes closed. Counting to ten, she forced herself to look.


The door shut behind her with joyous ringing; closing her eyes, Liz basked in the cold air for several long moments. Pulling herself together, she limped to the first aid isle, grabbing bandages and icepacks and antiseptics.

Turning to leave, she saw them sitting there. Eyes narrowed, she grabbed a box from the shelf and limped to the check out, angry, sure, but so, so--

scared.


It looked like a woman, made and clothed in bones. It was just...staring at her, unblinking, eyes like empty sockets. Swallowing once, Liz cocked her gun.

"What are you?" she demanded, voice strong, hands steady. It didn't answer, just seemed to sway closer, clacking and clattering. A shiver of fear crept down her spine; she had no idea what this thing was, how to kill it.

When it got to the car she stepped back, involuntarily putting distance between them. It unfurled a hand towards her, reaching, fingers glowing bright--

The car exploded.


Clenching her eyes shut, she felt the wall against her back, sliding down, down, down until the shock of cold tile. She curled up, back to the wall, hugging herself as the sobs started. Realising what was still in her hand, she flung the plastic away from her. It cracked against the wall, rolling twice and stopping. Pregnant.


"Hello, this is Liz." Grabbing an apple from the table, she buffed it on her shirt and took a nice, juicy bite. "Uhn, christ these are good."

"That's great," came a dry voice over the phone. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in a job."

She took another bite. "Depends. Who am I talking to and what's the job?"

"My name is Running Brook, and it's a simple transport job. I'll make it worth your while."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. Five Hundred to deliver a box across two states."

"Huh. What's the box of?"

The line crackled. "Thunderbirds."


Gingerly, Liz pushed herself off the ground, ears still ringing. The sun was back, burning away high in the sky, cooking the earth; Liz felt battered, burned. What had--

Shit. The 'birds. Scrambling upwards, she threw herself into the car, ignoring the stench of burnt ozone, pulling frantically at the poor, battered box on the floor.

Four solemn, ugly birds stared up at her, warbling in fear; she sighed, going limp.

"Christ..." Her throat felt ruined, scorched. When she swallowed, it just clicked. Dehydrated. Christ.

Something nibbled at her fingers; raising her head, she blinked tiredly. The 'birds stared back, concerned. Sighing, she pulled the box into her arms.

"Lets get you guys where you're supposed to go."


"So he didn't want them?" Running Brook clucked her tongue. "Pity. Oh well, I'll take them back. The poor dears look all right. You took care of them?"

Liz was slumped against her car, feeling drawn and warm. She bobbed her head; "Yeah."

"And you said they protected you? Against what?"

"Dunno; have to research it." Pulling something from her pocket, she tossed it at Running Brook. It was a icon of some sort, dancing bones and a ring.

When Running Brook stared at her, Liz shrugged. "Found it by my car when I went back to see if I couldn't get the fucker working after they fried it." One of the 'birds warbled at her; she reached over and gave it a friendly pat on the head. "You guys did good. I think it's Aztecan, possibly."

Running Brook gave her a sharp look. "Are you alright? You said you were practically on top of the car when it blew."

Liz flashed her a bland smile. "Of course."

AN: Written 08.05.17
Alright. This story is probably immensely confusing. It's supposed to be. Kinda. I didn't want to do obvious breaks between the scene changes, but if they seem to work, someone tell me. I'll also do one where the story flows from beginning to end.

This story's been in my head for awhile, though not with the particulars. Liz, being alone and finding out she's pregnant, and a story being told at different paces--that was all there.

The things in the story are Thunderbirds and Tzitzimitl. Again, San gave me the letter; I chose the beasts.

Critique, please.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thunderbird_%28mythology%29
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tzitzimitl

The chronological and less cool version: http://setsuna-jikan.deviantart.com/art/Iron-Birds-Chronological-85964956