Someone hammered on the door, but Mike didn’t turn around. This was the plan. This was why he had come on this mission. Mike hated to betray the others like this, but it was the only choice. Betray. The word felt bitter in his mouth, but it was true. He would have to get used to it.
After a few moments, the hammering stopped. Mike wondered if Warden had told them to stop, or if whoever it was had simply given up. He didn’t turn around to find out.
Before him the building he had left over a month ago loomed larger and larger. The craft angled into a dive, aiming for the roof, and in another moment, they had landed with a soft bump. Mike stood and turned around. The time had come. He opened the door.
Everyone, including Warden, was sitting around the machine when he came out. Mike stopped in the doorway, waiting for someone to say something, but no one did. He glanced at them; Warden was impassive, his metal face stern and masked. The warforged’s expressions seemed blanker than usual as they watched him. Finally Mike reached the face he had been dreading, and felt a terrible surge of guilt.
Kara was sitting farthest away from him, looking at him with an expression of complete bewilderment. Beyond her disbelief though, Mike saw something else, something that pained him far more. It was blank shock, as if she had just lost a very good friend and couldn’t quite believe it, and he felt the guilt within him grow in reply.
“Mike,” Kara asked, “what are you doing? What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Kara,” Mike said, and he meant it. He wanted nothing more than to tell her just how sorry he was. “I have to do this.”
“But, you – you have to get back.” Kara sounded as if she were trying to reason with herself as well as Mike, trying to understand what was happening. “You have to get back so they can cure you.”
Mike looked at her, willing her to understand. “This is more important,” he said quietly. Kara seemed to fall back into her seat, subdued.
“Why?” Warden asked bluntly.
Mike told them. He told them about his mother, about how he knew she wasn’t dead, and about his plan to rescue her. He also told them about the computer virus a friend had made him, the virus that had allowed him to take over the craft. He looked at Warden as he told them, but he spoke to Kara. She needed to understand this.
When he had finished, there was silence in the craft. Mike was aware that his precious time was ticking away, but they had to understand. Finally, Warden stood.
“So,” he said, “you believe your mother is on the ground floor of this building. You have no evidence for this. If anything, you have evidence contradicting it. And you propose to enter, from the roof, and rescue her?”
Mike nodded.
“The odds of survival are less than one hundredth of one percent. You would never survive that many levels. Even if you manage to reach your mother, you’ll still have to get out. The closest exit would be on the ground, and there are hundreds of Infected outside. The moment they see you, you’re gone. And if this craft lands to rescue you, there’s a good chance the Infected will come in with you, and then this entire mission will be lost.
“Did you consider the odds, Mike? Did you consider the risk to this mission, or to us, for that matter?”
Mike looked Warden right in the eye. “I did,” he said. “I considered all those things countless times. My mother is alive. I know it, no matter what the odds say. I know I’ll probably die if I go in there, but I have to try.
“I’ll take the elevator shaft. I doubt there’s any Infected in there, and that way I’ll be able to move right to the first floor.
“As for the mission, I’ve taken precautions. When I get out, the craft will do a low fly-by. I’ll jump in, and the craft will have never even landed. Also, there’s a built in timer in the virus I’ve uploaded. After one hour, it will delete itself, and you can control the craft again. That’s all I’m asking: one hour.”
Warden glared at him. “There is the thinnest chance of success, the smallest shred. Are you willing to risk everything – this mission, our lives, yourself – on that chance?”
Mike looked defiantly back at Warden. How many times had he asked himself the same question? How many times had he been forced to supply the answer he hated, but still knew he had to give?
“Yes,” Mike said. “I am.”
Warden watched him in silence for almost thirty seconds, as if hoping he would break under the force of his electronic gaze. “Fine,” he finally said. “You have one hour. If I don’t see you at the end of that hour, or if this mission is in any way jeopardized, we will leave. Clear?”
“Perfectly,” said Mike. The instant he spoke, he remembered Chardris saying the exact same thing to Warden not so long ago. How alike they had been. Mike only hoped his story didn’t end like Chardris’ had. No, he knew it wouldn’t.
“I’m going with you,” said Kara, standing up.
Mike glanced at her in surprise. “What? No – No, Kara, it’s just me. I’m not putting anyone else in danger because of this. This is my mission.”
Kara took a step towards him. Mike noticed that there were tear tracks on her cheeks, visible in the dust that coated her face. Her eyes were shining with a dangerous and determined light. Mike instinctively took a step back.
“You won’t last one second in there, and you know it,” Kara said. “If I go with you, you’ll at least have a chance.”
Mike hadn’t counted on this. “Kara,” he began, “you can’t. It’s too dangerous. I don’t want—”
“I’m going with you!” Kara said, her voice rising slightly. “You can try to talk me out of it, or you can rescue your mother. You don’t have time for both.”
Mike looked to the ceiling in frustration, but Kara was right. He didn’t have time for this. “Fine,” he said, grabbing his M4 from where it lay on the rack. “Stay close then. I hate to think what your father would do if you got hurt in there.”
Mike walked to the back of the craft and pulled the lever to lower the ramp. “I’ll come out the west side,” he told Warden.
“I’ll wait for you,” the soulborg said, limping into the room. “But remember: once your virus is gone, so are we. If you don’t find your mother, get back here. We may be able to save at least the two of you.”
Mike nodded automatically. He had no intention of returning to the craft without his mother, but he decided now wasn’t a good time to say so. Instead, he jumped to the ground, closely followed by Kara.
“One hour,” Warden said from the craft. Then the ramp closed, the engines roared, and Mike and Kara were left standing alone on the roof.
I don't know, TGRF, is Chapter 8 out there anywhere? "Around Friday" you said. Hmph, indeed! (I really wish there was a "Snob" Smiley)
~TAF
My cat had major dental surgery and required close attention for a few days, so I apologize for the lateness. It's good to see that there are readers out there; I lose my impetus for posting when I don't see anyone.
On that note, let us proceed without further ado:
Spoiler Alert!
In one glance, Mike took in the view from the roof. It must have once been a thing of beauty: green rolling hills, blue sky stretching from horizon to unbroken horizon. There might have been a forest to the left, its leaves golden and red in the fall. Perhaps there had been a stream nearby, the rushing water a constant background.
All that Mike saw now was desolation. The ground was scarred and torn where the soulborgs had tried to stop the Infected. Bodies still lay where they had been left, only partially rotted. Crude barricades, ineffective, were scattered everywhere, a testament to the attempts of the doomed. The sight sickened Mike.
Unbidden, Chardris came to his mind. Mike remembered watching him bend over Jorhdawn, and wondering what it would be like if he found his mother the same way. Would that be the end? Would he go down fighting the Infected, like Chardris, knowing there was nothing left for him?
Mike sighed. His father had been right about obsession. It had claimed him, and now Mike knew that he would never rest until he found his mother. This mission was his life. If it failed, if it ended… so did he.
“Come on,” Kara said, taking his hand and pulling gently. “Let’s go.”
Mike merely nodded, and they set off at a sprint for the door.
It was pitch black inside. However, Mike switched on the light on his M4, and Kara was able to conjure a flickering imitation of Heirloom’s light, allowing them to see just enough to move.
The halls were empty, but the whole place reeked of Infected. The putrid stench was nearly enough to make Mike reel away whenever he passed an empty room or new hallway. The smell was only made worse by the moisture, which had seeped through the roof when it rained, and now dripped down the walls or sat still in pools of silent water.
Mike had studied the designs of the building extensively before he left, meaning he was able to find the elevator shaft easily. The doors, damaged already during the apocalypse, were easy to force open. The elevator was of course nowhere to be seen (though it was probably at the very bottom of the shaft), so Mike withdrew the harness he had brought with him for this very purpose, and secured it to the elevator cables. Then, very carefully, making as little noise as possible, he strapped both himself and Kara to the harness, and began the slow descent down.
The cables vibrated and shuddered as they dropped lower. With every foot, Mike’s trepidation increased. The odds of his success seemed to come crashing down on him. Worse than that, Warden’s words came back to him: “There is the thinnest chance of success, the smallest shred. Are you willing to risk everything – this mission, our lives, yourself – on that chance?”
What had he been thinking? This mission needed to succeed. The machine needed to reach the alliance. To put that at risk in order to rescue his mother… Mike had been selfish in the extreme. What had he done?
His thoughts were interrupted as they landed on the damp top of the elevator. It took them only a few minutes to pry the doors open and slide through, landing quietly in the hall beyond.
Silence surrounded them. The only sounds were the steady drip of water from some unidentified corner, and their breathing, which seemed unnaturally loud in the dark hallways.
Mike switched off the light on his gun. It was too bright, and the Infected could easily see it shining on a wall. Kara’s light, while still bright, was much more subtle, and harder to trace.
“Ready to do this?” Mike asked Kara, keeping an eye on the far hallway.
“No,” Kara said, “but let’s go.”
Mike nodded and took a step towards the hall. Instantly, a slow, drawn-out groan of metal filled the air. Kara jumped and clutched at Mike’s arm, and Mike tensed, his rifle held ready, but after a moment, the sound vanished into the darkness.
Mike turned to Kara. “Just like where we found the machine,” Mike said, trying to sound reassuring. He patted her arm. “Nothing to worry about. The building was groaning there, too, remember?”
Kara gave him a smile that looked forced, and let go. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she remained silent. Mike got the message, however.
“Come on,” he said. “The sooner we get out of this place, the better. My mother isn’t far.”
The hall they were in turned right, then left, then left again. It seemed to be going nowhere, but Mike knew where he was. He had studied the designs for this building so often that it was next to impossible for him to get lost in it. The hall would eventually end in a large room, and beyond that was another short hall that would lead him to where his mother was waiting.
Mike’s pace quickened. Now, after so long, he was nearly there. He could practically hear his mother’s voice, cold and feeble with hunger, but alive, so very alive…
Mike took a right turn a little too fast. The result was that he saw the Infected standing fifteen yards away too late. He backpedaled, trying to get back behind the corner, but the damage was done. The Infected let out a hiss, and came staggering towards them.
It was human, and its right leg seemed to have been shattered, meaning it moved slowly. Seeing this, Mike raised his rifle, sighted through the scope, and aimed for the center of the chest. As he looked, he noticed something odd: the Infected wasn’t carapaced. Only the thinnest film of yellow glimmered against its skin. But if it wasn’t carapaced, then that meant that it hadn’t been here for long, and that meant… Survivors.
“Mike,” Kara cried, “shoot it!”
Mike realized he had been standing still, shocked by what he had just learned. He quickly took careful aim, and was about to pull the trigger, when the Infected slipped. At first, Mike only tried to keep its chest in his sights. But then, as the Infected righted itself, he saw its face, and all thoughts of shooting it fled from his mind.
“Mike,” Kara cried, “what are you doing? Shoot it!”
But Mike couldn’t shoot it. Instead, he was staring, transfixed, at its face, for the Infected hobbling towards them looked exactly like his mother.
Spoiler Alert!
Mike’s mind seemed frozen. He simply stood there, gun lowered, staring at the Infected as it came closer. It couldn’t be his mother. It couldn’t be. She was alive. She was waiting for him. This couldn’t be his mother.
The Infected seemed to become excited as it came closer, and sped up, dragging its shattered leg behind it. Mike knew he had to shoot it, now, before it was too late, but he couldn’t lift his gun. His arms seemed locked into position as surely as his eyes were. What if the Infected was his mother? He couldn’t kill her…
There was a flash of blue, and Kara leapt towards the Infected. The sight of her seemed to jolt Mike out of his stupor, but by the time he had raised his gun again, the Infected had already staggered backwards, Kara’s spear sunk into its chest. She ripped it out, and the Infected fell over backwards. It landed on the floor with a snapping of brittle bones, and did not move.
Kara staggered backwards, but Mike still stared at the Infected’s face. As if a dream had been shattered, he could see it for what it really was now. The Infected had certainly been a woman once, but now its face was scarred, and its head was crushed on one side. Enough of its features remained though, that Mike could tell it was not his mother, though the face was very similar. He supposed thinking about his mother had tricked him into seeing her. He mentally shook himself. His illusions had nearly cost them their lives.
“Please, Mike,” Kara whispered from behind him.
Simply the sound of her voice made Mike turn around. It was cold and frightened, but it shook with something deeper, something worse.
“Please,” Kara repeated. “Go back.” Mike saw that she was shaking. “Let’s leave this place, Mike; let’s get out while we can. We can cure you back at the base… please, go back and let us save your life.”
A moment later Mike realized she was pleading. She was afraid, and the close call with the Infected seemed to have tipped her fear over the edge. Unfallen tears glistened in her eyes as she looked at him. “Please,” she repeated, her voice a whisper. “Please, Mike,”
Mike didn’t say anything. What could he say? This mission, this quest to find his mother… it was his life. He couldn’t abandon it, not now, after having come so far. Instead, he reacted instinctively. He crossed to Kara and hugged her, trying to somehow spread some of his determination to her through his hold.
Kara’s shaking slowly subsided as she leaned against Mike. As he held her, Mike whispered, “I can’t Kara. You know I can’t. Going back now wouldn’t save my life. This, this mission is my life. I have to do this.”
Mike felt a warm tear hit his arm, and held Kara closer, comforting her as best he could in the dark hall. He saw the Infected lying grotesque upon the floor, and turned Kara so that she faced away from it.
This of course meant that Mike had an unobstructed view of the corpse. Even now, he still saw the resemblance to his mother beneath the distorted features. His words came back to him: this mission is my life. I have to do this.
His father had been right. His obsession over his mother had consumed him, just as his father had said it would. He was too far in to turn back now, even if he wanted to. Mike knew, as he looked at the corpse, that he lived or died with this quest. It was his life, and if it failed, if his mother was dead…
Unbidden, Mike saw Chardris bending over Jorhdawn. Would he be like that if he failed? Would he die then, taking as many Infected with him as he could? Would his life end, if his mother was dead? But she won’t be, Mike told himself. She’ll be alive, and I will find her. He had told himself the same thing for a month. But now, for the first time, the words couldn’t quite dispel the doubts that had always been there.
Kara had slowly grown still, and her tears had stopped. Now she gently loosed herself from Mike’s arms and dried her face with her sleeve.
“I’m ready,” she said. “We need to find your mother.”
“Are you sure you can do this?” Mike asked. “There’s only going to be more Infected.” As he spoke, he felt his doubts rise within him. If Kara said she couldn’t go on, if she wanted to turn back… Mike was ready to go with her. He was ready to give in to logic.
But Kara shook her head. “I know what she means to you, Mike. We have to do this.”
Mike looked down the dark hall and sighed. “Stay close behind me,” he said. “And if I start going too fast again, stop me.” Kara smiled faintly, and then fell in behind Mike.
Mike moved around the corpse, and set off down the hall, Kara close behind. It was perfectly silent, save for an occasional echo from one of the floors above. They took a left turn, then a right, then another right, then the middle fork and left again, until the hall finally ended in a door. They were so close now; Mike knew that beyond this room, only a short hall stood between him and his mother.
Mike forced himself to be cautious as they approached the door. He wanted to pull it open and run to where he knew his mother hid, but they didn’t know what was in the room. Anything could be in there, or nothing at all.
He stopped at the door and motioned for Kara to remain behind him. Mike pressed his ear to the door, but he couldn’t hear anything. Keeping his M4 ready, he grasped the handle and pulled gently.
The door, as it transpired, was thick and heavy. After a few vain attempts, Mike was forced to give his M4 to Kara and pull with both hands. At first the door didn’t move. Then, with a sudden jarring squeal of rusty hinges, it slipped from the frame and swung wide.
Mike quickly grabbed his M4 and scanned the room. It was empty and dark like the hall they had come from. No sound met his ears. The stench of Infected was present, but that was nothing new: it was everywhere in this building. Cautiously, Mike moved forward into the room, searching the dark corners.
Without warning, Kara screamed. Before Mike could even turn, something extremely hard slammed into the back of his head and knocked him to the ground. Momentarily dazed by the blow, Mike’s mind was thrown into further confusion when his face slammed into the metal floor. Pain exploded across Mike’s head, momentarily blinding him in darkness tinged with red. He heard Kara scream again behind him, and pulled himself from the edge of unconsciousness, forcing himself to turn over. What met his eyes was a sight he thoroughly hoped to never see again.
A massive figure, taller than the doorway and hunched to fit through it, was bearing down on Kara. Its proportions seemed oddly out of place: wide shoulders, a powerful torso, but a thin lower body. Mike blinked. A viper. He was looking at an infected viper. And not just any viper, the hunched shape of those shoulders, the massive claws on either hand… he was facing the Venoc Warlord.
Mike staggered to his feet, pulling his M4 with him. His vision flickered as he stood, and he momentarily lost his balance, sinking to one knee. He looked up, determined not to let the Venoc get to Kara. He soon wished he hadn’t.
Kara appeared to be trying to fend off the gigantic snake with her spear. It seemed to have no effect on the Warlord. With one massive claw, he batted the spear aside. Mike heard it clang to the floor as the Venoc raised its other claw high, preparing to strike Kara down.
Mike raised his gun and fired instantly. Several bullets slammed into the Venoc’s raised hand, and it let loose a hiss of pain. Mike saw the carapace about the hand shatter as the bullets struck it, and black blood begin to pour out.
Hissing angrily, the Warlord whipped around. Whether by accident or intention, its claw, the one now dripping with infected blood, slammed directly into the side of Kara’s face, and she fell to the floor.
“NOO!!” Mike yelled. He didn’t care how many others heard him; he raised his gun and fired directly at the Venoc’s massive chest. The Warlord writhed in pain and arched its back, hissing with fury. Each bullet that slammed into it shattered more of the carapace so that flecks of yellow fell to the floor like shards of glass.
The Warlord, finally overcoming the pain, lunged at Mike, stretching its body out until it was nearly horizontal. The jaws opened. The red eyes burned with fever. Mike could feel the snake’s hot breath hit him in the face, but he never released the trigger. Inches from his neck, the great snake finally fell, its chest riddled with bullet holes. The light in its eyes slowly flickered and died.
Spoiler Alert!
. “Maybe it was wrong. But sometimes we do the wrong things for the right reasons.”
“That doesn’t mean we should,” said Mike, holding her gaze.
“No…” said Kara. “But now that we’ve done it… I can’t think of a nobler reason to have done so. This was, is your only chance to rescue your mother, and I think that is something that you had to do.” She dropped her hands.
Her words didn’t make Mike feel any better. She had been right in one thing though: rescuing his mother was something he had to do. He had to believe that she was alive. If he could prove that to the world, to his now-dead father… then he could prove it to himself. And that was something he had to do.
“Help me up,” Kara whispered.
Mike gently lifted her into a standing position, but she sagged against the wall the moment he let go. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, keeping a steadying hand on her uninjured shoulder. He knew she was far too weak to heal herself.
She smiled at him through the pain on her face. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I just need to get out of here. Let’s hurry and find your mother.”
For a very brief moment, Mike looked into her eyes. The pain he saw there made him pause.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Kara looked at him in silence for a moment. “We can get out of this,” she whispered, “both of us. We just need to keep going.”
Mike nodded; she was right.
Kara took a few faltering steps forwards. She held her left arm with her right, and winced every time it moved, but after a few tries, she was able to walk without Mike’s support. They entered the room again, moving slowly.
After only a few steps, Mike stopped, staring into one of the far dark corners.
“What is it?” Kara asked apprehensively.
“It’s all right,” Mike assured her. “It’s just—” He left her side and took a few steps forwards. A glimmer of green caught his eye in the gloom. No…It can’t be…
Mike rushed to the spot. Huddled in the corner was a crumpled body, a body wearing a green sweater that was very familiar to Mike. It was the same sweater that his mother had worn for years. Mike fell to his knees at the side of the body, and, dreading what he might find, rolled it onto its back.
For a brief moment Mike thought he was looking into his mother’s face. He felt a sudden jolt of fear as he saw long hair, marred skin, and glazed eyes. In another moment he realized that the body was not his mother’s, but his feeling of fear and shock remained. He had been close, so close, to losing her.
Mike sat back on his heels and closed his eyes. She’s alive, he told himself over and over. I know she’s alive. His fingers were numb with the shock of what he had nearly found, and fear at how close he had come still coursed up and down his body. Every shred of evidence against his mother being alive seemed to envelop him in a dark fog, slowly smothering his hope in doubts.
“Mike?” Kara asked, her voice sounding very far away.
Mike felt Kara place a hand on his shoulder, and some of his fear and shock seemed to slip away. “It’s all right,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I just thought… It’s not important.” He stood. “Come on. The room is just down that hall.”
Slowly, because of Kara, they exited the room. At the doorway, Mike looked back at the figure in the green sweater one last time. His mother must have given that person her sweater at some point, but how it had gotten here, Mike didn’t like to think. She’s alive, he told himself sternly. She’s alive and she’s just down the hall.
“Come on,” Mike said. “We’re nearly there.”
It was at that point that an Infected crashed into the room behind them.
Mike whirled around, bringing his gun up at the same time. He wouldn’t be stopped, not now, not when he was so close.
The Infected was a viper. It regained its balance, spotted Mike and Kara, and charged. It let out a terrible hiss as it slithered towards them, its scales scratching and rasping against the floor.
Fortunately, the viper was not carapaced, meaning that Mike only had to shoot it in the chest three times. As the last bullet sailed into it, the viper fell forwards, skidding along the floor. It fetched up against the wall and lay motionless, black blood leaking from its mouth.
“Come on,” Mike said, moving Kara in front of him. “More will probably be here soon.”
Moving quickly now, they turned into the hall. They had only gone a few steps however, when Mike’s words came true.
Hissing madly, slithering and sliding in every direction, a mass of vipers suddenly charged out of the room they had just left, turned with difficulty on the slippery metal floor, and shot towards Mike.
“Go!” Mike shouted to Kara. “I’m right behind you!”
He heard Kara break into a run, and then opened fire with his M4. Infected vipers began dropping – for lack of a better expression – like flies. However, Mike could see even more vipers pouring into the hall from the room, and knew that it was useless: he couldn’t kill them all.
Having no legs can present problems. One of those problems becomes evident when vipers attempt to move on smooth metal at high speeds. Seeing that the vipers, despite their furious hissing and constant movement, weren’t making much more progress than he was, Mike turned and ran.
The hall ended in a closed metal door. Mike skidded to a halt next to Kara, who was fruitlessly shoving on the door, trying to open it. “I think it must be locked,” she panted, pausing for a moment. Behind them, the vipers came a little closer.
Mike mentally ran through his options. This door was their only way out, and since there were no latches or locks on this side, he could only hope that there was someone on the other side who could open it. He wasn’t quite foolish enough to fire at the door when they were this close to it, so he raised his fist and resorted to banging on it as loudly as he could. Seeing what he was doing, Kara joined in.
Mike turned back to the vipers and opened fire again. They were getting closer, and they were picking up speed. He glanced behind him, but the door still remained shut. They didn’t have much time.
The closest viper was only five feet away. Mike brought it down, but two more took its place. Four feet. Three. The door still hadn’t opened. Two. One. Maybe there was no one behind it after all. Maybe Mike had been wrong. She’s alive, he told himself. And then the vipers were upon him.
Tails swung into Mike, knocking his breath out and causing him to fall to the floor. Claws slammed into him from all angles, scratching his body armor and tearing the fabric. Jaws closed in on his legs and arms, biting and tearing. Mike kicked and punched in all directions. He kept moving, twisting around, so that the vipers wouldn’t be able to get a hold of him, but he knew he was doomed. He was surrounded by vipers, and there was no way out.
And then, quite audible over the terrible hissing, a deep shudder shook the hall, and a sound of metal grinding on metal filled the air. The vipers seemed to slow for a moment, their assault wavering. And then in an instant, as if the world had been shut off by the flick of a switch, everything was black. Silence reigned. Consciousness faded.
Mike fell to the floor and knew no more.
Sound was the first thing to return. Mike slowly became aware of a low echoing drone through the dark fog that surrounded him. It varied in pitch and volume, sometimes disappearing altogether.
Mike tried to open his eyes, but his mind wouldn’t respond. He was still mostly asleep. Though he couldn’t move his arms or legs, a sensation began to creep up them, something Mike identified soon afterwards as heat. As soon as he realized this, the darkness in his mind began to turn red slowly, bit by bit. Red light began to filter through his eyelids, and Mike suddenly knew where he was. Pulling himself from sleep, he forced his eyes open.
He had been right. Above him, glowing softly with a red light and bathing him with waves of heat, was the soulborg furnace. They had made it. They were in the room beyond the door; the room Mike was sure his mother was in. That of course asked the question: how had they gotten here? And where was his mother?
Mike sat up. He was on a metal floor, and all about him lay various ruined machinery and scraps of metal. In the shadows against the far wall, two dark figures were conversing in low tones. So that was the droning he had heard while he was unconscious.
“Who’s there?” he called.
The figures turned, and one came running towards him.
“Mike!” Kara cried. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Mike said, noticing for the first time that his injuries seemed to have been healed. Kara must have done that while he was out. “What about you?”
With the red light illuminating her from above, the slashes across Kara’s face and shoulder looked particularly ugly. She clearly had not healed herself.
“I’ll be all right,” Kara said.
“But, you need to heal, you—”
“I need to conserve my strength. There will be plenty of time to heal once we get out.”
Mike decided not to point out that she had already healed him. Instead, he looked at the other figure, who had just entered the light.
The man had dark skin. Mike guessed he was roughly the same age as Drake, though the lined face and the graying hair made it difficult to tell. The man’s clear gray eyes were sunk in his head slightly, and a sparse beard added to his venerated look.
“Who are you?” Mike asked.
The man folded his arms and looked at Mike. “You should recognize me,” he said in a measured voice. “Your father and I used to be friends.”
Mike got to his feet. Beside him, Kara was glancing between the two of them nervously. Why should she be nervous? Something wasn’t right here…
Mike looked closer. He hadn’t seen it before, but now, with the light shining on it, there could be no mistaking it: the man had a long pony-tail which hung down his back.
“Carr?” Mike gasped.
The man nodded once, slowly.
Mike felt a sinking feeling. Of all the people to run into down here, Carr was not the one he would have chosen. Carr continued to frown at him, and Mike knew why.
Spoiler Alert!
Soon after the destruction of the wellsprings, back when Mike’s father had been in action, and Mike had been but seventeen, the city of Nerulgard had been attacked by a coalition army of kyrie. Mike’s father had been in command, and Mike had taken up a sword for the first time.
The city was poorly manned, and its defenses were batted aside easily. Mike’s father, wounded, struggling to save what was left of his forces, had suddenly been faced with a terrible decision.
The main bulk of the kyrie army was in the courtyard of Nerulgard, engaged with a large contingent of the defenders. Mike’s father had called for retreat to the keep, and most of the soldiers had followed his command. A few unfortunate souls had been cut off and isolated however, surrounded by kyrie.
Mike’s father could have saved them. He could have ordered a charge, and the defenders would have rushed back into the courtyard, hacking their way to the survivors. But he didn’t. One of the coalition’s flanks was closing in, and a charge would have meant terrible losses. Instead, he shut the gates to the keep, keeping the kyrie out as he knew he must, but also sentencing those left behind to certain death.
It was a choice that had to be made. There had been no alternative. Unfortunately, one of those left behind had been Carr’s young son, Daren, only fifteen. Mike had gotten to the keep in time, but Daren hadn’t survived.
Once he found out, Carr severed his friendship with Mike’s father. He held him responsible for the death of his son, and now, years later, he still had not forgiven him. He remained convinced that he had chosen Mike’s life over that of Daren, and as a result, he came to see Mike as what Daren could have been, a reminder of what had been lost.
Carr slowly tilted his head. “Why are you here, Mike?” he asked. His tone was deceptively level and controlled.
“I’m here for my mother,” Mike replied, not taking his eyes from Carr’s face. “She went missing here a month ago, and—”
He had said the wrong thing. On the word “missing,” Carr inhaled sharply. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, his voice barely controlled. “Why are you here, instead of my son?”
Mike knew how deadly Carr was, but he didn’t care. He had come all this way to find his mother, not to talk to Carr about Daren. “Look,” he said, a feeling of impatience growing inside of him, “my father had to make a choice.”
“And he chose you,” Carr interrupted. “He chose you over my son.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Mike said. Once he would have tried to talk to Carr, to reason with him. But he had tried, many times. Carr remained unshakable. Mike turned, glancing around the room. “I need to find my mother.”
“And I need to hear the truth.” Carr took a step towards Mike. “No one wants to admit it. They all say that your father did what was necessary. They’re wrong. What he did was selfish. He protected you.”
Mike whirled around to face Carr. “Everyone says that because it’s true, Carr. You want to hear the truth? Listen to them!”
“No,” Carr said. Mike detected a waver in the falsely calm voice. That was a bad sign. “Your father—”
BOOM!
Both Mike and Carr spun around to face the door. Another thunderous boom echoed off of the walls. “They’re trying to break in,” Carr breathed to himself. He turned to Mike. “You’ve brought the Infected with you! That door won’t last for long. At the far end of this room is a trap door. Go through it and you’ll find the others. We should be able to keep the Infected out.”
“What?” Mike shouted over another terrible boom from the door. “No! We need to get out!”
“You think I haven’t tried to get out a hundred times?” Carr snarled, running to the door and hoisting barricades in front of it. “It can’t be done! I lose more men every time we try!”
“No,” Mike shouted, “you don’t understand. We have a ship. It can take us all, but it’s going to leave any minute!”
Carr paused and turned. Behind him, the door shuddered as whatever was beyond it launched a new attack.
For a moment, Carr and Mike stared into each other’s eyes. Then, as the door trembled in its frame once more, Carr said, “Go. Get them out. Show us the way.”
From the tone of his voice, Mike knew that Carr’s anger had not subsided. There are times, however, when one must put aside their personal issues to deal with the larger problem. As it turned out, imminent attack by a zombie horde was one of those times.
Spoiler Alert!
Kara raced to the trap door at the far side of the room, and Mike turned, looking for the second door into the room. That door would lead them to a hall, and then all they had to do was turn left, then right, and the way out would be only a hundred feet away.
Carr ran up to Mike just as he located the door. “Where to?” he asked.
“Through there,” Mike said, pointing at the door. “It should take us straight to the front doors.”
Carr nodded, and then turned to the back of the room, where Kara was helping people out of the trap door. As Carr began shouting instructions, Mike watched the survivors. His mother was with them, he knew it. This was the only place she could be.
He scanned the crowd eagerly. It contained kyrie, elves, and even an orc, but well over half were humans. It was impossible to tell if his mother was with them, as the crowd kept moving and shifting, but Mike knew she was there. She had to be.
Mike had taken a step towards the refugees when Carr turned to him. “Let’s go,” he said. “Time to get out of here.”
Mike didn’t want to wait any longer to find his mother. He had half a mind to ignore Carr and search for her anyway, but a renewed series of jarring booms from the door convinced him otherwise. Every second mattered, and as much as he hated to admit it to himself, there was no time to search for his mother. They had to get out now.
Reluctantly, Mike turned, and led the way to the door. Carr motioned for everyone to be quiet. It wouldn’t do to alert the Infected to where they were.
Cautiously, Mike opened the door, revealing the dark hallway beyond. Escape was so close…
Argh! The tension continues! One quick question though:
Spoiler Alert!
Carr's backstory confuses me. Were the Kyrie in the battle Infected, or was the regular war still going on then? Is there a reason they were specifically mentioned as Kyrie? I can't see the importance of that detail... or is that foreshadowing we've yet to see?
~TAF
TAF was the Storyteller...
in THE ENEMY'S LAST RETREAT
Argh! The tension continues! One quick question though:
Spoiler Alert!
Carr's backstory confuses me. Were the Kyrie in the battle Infected, or was the regular war still going on then? Is there a reason they were specifically mentioned as Kyrie? I can't see the importance of that detail... or is that foreshadowing we've yet to see?
~TAF
Spoiler Alert!
No. The kyrie were not infected. That incident happened before the apocalypse. If you go all the way back to Thormun's Journal in chapter one, there was a period of chaos between the wellsprings being destroyed and the apocalypse beginning, in which alliances shifted. During that time, a good number of kyrie banded together to form a coalition army.
There's no significance to them being kyrie. It was just a random selection. Probably the only reason I called them a coalition army of kyrie is so that I could refer to them as something other than "the coalition." A single name wears out fast, even if you only use it in a few paragraphs.
February 3rd, 2016, 05:32 PM
TAF was the Storyteller... 
never fear!
William099 is Lord of Blades...
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