Free Shadows Beneath: The Writing Excuses Anthology by Howard Tayler Dan Wells Mary Robinette Kowal Brandon Sanderson Page A

“To— I—” I shook my head. “What?”
    “That creature is the power source for the BSE-7,” said the engineer. “A Bound Supernatural Entity. The 7 refers to a gremlin, maliciously eager to destroy anything technological it comes across.”
    “And you strapped it to my truck?”
    “It was bound,” he said quickly. “Its energies were directed, like a . . . like a shaped explosive. All the tech-breaking power is pointed out and down, so anything you drive over, like a landmine or an IED, gets broken before it can do anything to hurt you. It can’t do anything to your own vehicle—unless, obviously, the binding breaks and it gets loose.” He gestured feebly at the truck, which the gremlin was now gleefully disemboweling.
    “That thing came after us,” said the driver. “Unless one of you’s a robot and didn’t tell me, I don’t think it limits its destruction to technological devices.”
    “Case in point,” said the gunner, “your dead friend over there.”
    “Now you understand why we needed to find the salt as quickly as possible,” said the engineer. “The salt will hold it, though, as long as nothing breaks the circle.”
    “So we’re safe here until the next stiff breeze,” I said, “or until we starve to death, whichever comes first.”
    “We’ve got plenty of MREs,” said the driver.
    “I think I’d prefer to starve,” said the gunner.
    “There’s got to be a way to kill it,” I said. “Our guns fell apart, but the knife didn’t—maybe that’s too simple a machine to be affected?”
    “You can’t kill a demon,” said the engineer. “Trust us on this one. You can only bind it.”
    “Exactly what kind of engineer are you?” I asked.
    He didn’t answer.
    “And we can’t forget the Taliban,” said my driver. “This is the fourth IED we’ve run across in the last hour. There’s a group here, and they’re active, and they’re doing something they don’t want anyone to see. And after all the noise our gremlin’s been making, they’re going to know we’re here.”
    I turned to the engineer. “Can we use the radio with that thing’s . . . anti-technology field ruining everything?”
    “Anything inside the salt circle should work fine.”
    “Get it working,” I told my driver. “Tell the convoy where we are, and that we’ve been hit with an IED. Leave the . . . weirder details vague.” He saluted and climbed in through the window of the overturned vehicle. I looked at the engineer. “Now: tell me everything you know about this gremlin.”
    “It would probably be easier to just read the manual.”
    “You have a manual for a gremlin?”
    “The BSE-7 is intended for field use,” he said. “We have a Dash-10 operator’s manual already printed, though it’s obviously just a prototype.” He pulled a slim paper booklet from his backpack and handed it to me.
    “‘BSE-7 Vehicle-Mounted Anti-Explosive Device,’” I read. “‘The BSE-7 is powered by a lambda-class demon, commonly called a gremlin. It is designed to be mounted under . . .’” I skipped ahead, leafing past the usage sections to the fifth chapter: Maintenance. “‘If the device fails and the supernatural entity becomes unbound, it can be held at bay with salt.’ Which we’ve done. ‘Salt can be found in every MRE, and should be easy to come by, even in the field. Your first action should be to contain the demon in a circle of salt, as an unbound gremlin inside a base or camp can be surprisingly destructive.’” I threw the manual down. “It says our first action should be to contain the demon, you idiot, not us.”
    “The manual makes that sound a lot easier than it is.”
    “They always do.” I picked up the booklet, found the same page again, and continued reading. “‘With the demon neutralized in a salt circle, report the malfunction immediately to your assigned demonologist.’ We have an assigned demonologist?”
    “They’re still in training,” said the