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Episode 041 |
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“I believe what I see and right now, I’m trying to get my mind around what I just saw.” John Hobbes, Fallen It’s amazing how there are moments of your life that you think will never end. Those precious moments, filled with emotion and defined by what you think is the end-all of life. They come so swiftly, without preparation or notice, without any semblance of preview. There is never any time to anticipate them. But looking back, you always realize that every moment in your life has been a precursor, a prelude, to what had happened. Everything in my life has led up to my death. None of us move. None of us can move. In an instant, we’re all the same. Whether we’re the ones with the guns or the ones tied, or the ones on our knees; whether we’re the bully or the bullied; whether we’ve got the light or just a match; suddenly we’re all the same. We’re all dead. Everything moves in slow motion. Morcean aims his gun at the giant figure stalking towards us. The figure doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t speed up. He doesn’t change in anyway; he only draws steadily closer. His long, powerful legs stride over the clearing, covering the distance without a second thought. Morcean pulls the trigger. Click Nothing He pulls it again. Click Still nothing Behind me, I hear the others draw out their guns. They pull the triggers on pistols, on machine guns, on shotguns. Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Nothing Morcean, furious, the only one not overtaken with terror, throws the gun. The giant swats it aside with his muscled hand as if it was a gnat. He’s just feet away from me. My life flashes in front of my eyes. Again. Morcean steps back, leaving me before the giant. My body shakes in terror. I feel his heavy booted footsteps stalking towards me, the rumble of the ground as the earth itself quakes with fear. I close my eyes. I feel him close. He’s just a single step . . . . . . past . . ? The giant courses past me with a cat’s agility. I turn around on my knees as he grabs Morcean around the neck. With no effort at all, the giant lifts Morcean up off his feet, throwing him into the crowd of men. The impact knocks them all down and they scramble as he descends upon them. My eyes shake as my whole body goes numb. I can’t tear my gaze, my soul, away from the horror that I witness. One of the goons tries to punch at the giant. Swinging at shoulder level, he hits the giant in the bottom of the chest. The giant turns to him and slams his fist down onto his body, the man crumpling under the impact. The blow lands like an atomic bomb, knocking the man back, as well as the others near him. But the giant just lays into them, decimating the goons left and right. I feel hands. I look up as Slate grabs my shoulders, pulling me up to my feet. “We’ve got to get out of here,” she says, the panic in her voice as evident as it is in her eyes. She turns and bolts for the tree line. I turn and try to follow, but I have trouble with my balance without my arms. I stumble and struggle, running as best I can. My lungs burn in no time. My whole body is overcome with hunger and exhaustion. But I don’t look back. I hear the carnage of battle; hear the screams of pain as the one-sided fight goes horribly wrong for Morcean and his men. But I don’t look back. Slate disappears into the trees and I blindly follow her. I rush into a mass of branches and don’t slow down. I push through them, letting the wood slap and rake my skin and cut my flesh. But I don’t look back. I get far enough into the trees and collapse. Gasping for air, I pant, my head buried in the leaves around me. I pant and wheeze, the fear turning into lucid exhaustion. I roll over onto my back, my eyes fighting to stay open. I look up and I see the sky through the trees. All I can think about is him. When I wake up, it’s silent. I don’t move. I look around the forest about me, searching for some sign of what’s been going on since I passed out. The woods seem lighter, but I can’t tell. I sit up, getting a better vantage around the area. I start to turn, then it hits me. “My hands,” I say, looking at my freed hands. I look at the tree behind me, to see Slate curled up against the trunk, her hands pulled in against the chill of sleep. I look around as I stand, seeing nothing but forest in all directions. “I guess we lost them. Him. All of them,” I whisper. My stomach grumbles painfully. I rub it and look at Slate. “Hey,” I say, just loud enough to disrupt her sleep. She blinks awake and looks up at me, her body fighting to stay asleep. “You okay?” I ask. “Never better,” she says, rubbing her neck as she shifts. “It’s morning,” she observes, rubbing her eyes now. She looks at me, the determination I know so well returning to her face. “What the hell was that thing?” “I don’t know,” I whisper, crossing my legs as I sit down. “He’s not a vampire, or a zombie,” she says. “Jesus, he’s huge. Like a body builder times a basketball player or something. Jesus, I’ve never seen . . .” Her voice trails off. She looks at me. “You don’t know what it is?” “No,” I say. I look up at her as she thinks. I don’t want to do this. “But I have seen him before.” She turns coldly to me, her eyes hard. “What?” “When I woke up in Argent labs, it was inside a closet,” I explain, trying to keep my voice calm and flat as the memories terrify me as much now as when they occurred. “When I got outside, I got attacked by three zombies. I ran back into the closet, but they were trying to get in. Suddenly, they stopped and rushed off. And I heard them get-get killed.” I swallow, the thought of the sight of those bodies coming back as if they were just behind me. I even convulse a bit at the mere thought of their bodies… “When I stepped outside,” I continue, “he was there.” “What did he do?” She asks. I try to answer, but the truth just doesn’t make sense. “Nothing,” I say. “He just stared, stared at me. I backed away and he walked off.” “You didn’t follow him?” She asked. I look up at her, trying to decide if she’s joking or if she’s actually serious. “Slate, that thing isn’t normal. It’s not human. I don’t know what it is, but that isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen. You saw what that guy did to Morcean. He threw him around like he was a rag doll. Just picked him like he wasn’t even there. And I know he’s big. That’s very clear to me. He’s thicker than I am wide. But he also moves like a damn panther or something.” “What are you saying?” She accuses. “He’s! Not! Human!” I spell out for her. “I don’t know what the hell he is, I don’t know if he’s some part of this whole Project 525 thing or what. But he’s not human.” “He may just be some type of mutation,” Slate starts. “No,” I say, shaking my head. I may not know much, but I know this much. “No, he’s no mutation. I looked into his eyes. I looked into them. And I didn’t see anything that’s at all human. He’s a…” My voice trails off and I get cold again. The thought of him chills me to the bone. I pull my arms close and shutter. Slate sits back against the tree and is quiet for a few moments. We both sit in the warm summer morning, shivering out of fear of what we both saw just hours ago. “Do,” she says, shattering the silence, “do you want to go back?” “No,” I say. “The SUVs may still be there. The guns,” she proposes. “No,” I repeat, my voice shaking from fear. “I don’t want to go anywhere near where that monster has been. That thing’s not…” My voice freezes into nothingness. Slate’s quiet for a moment longer. I look up at her and it slowly dawns on me that she wants to run. She wants to get away, just like me. But she’s not willing to. My mind calms as I think about her rather than him. “You don’t want to admit you’re afraid, do you?” I ask quietly. She
looks down, her hard eyes cast away. “No,” she finally says after a long
moment. She snaps a tiny twig and tosses the halves away. “No, I don’t.” she
sits there for a moment longer in front of me, then stands slowly. I look up
at her as she rises. “Come on,” she says with a quiet strength. “Let’s get
out of here.” |
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