Thread: The Chapters of Helm

Chapter III

Day One (Afternoon to Night)

Nathan Aki [Southern Fort]

The clunky box weighed a good thirty-five pounds. Nathan heaved it into the bag and fingered for the smooth metal of his shotgun’s handle. Thus equipped, the man stood with the bag’s strap constricting a shoulder.

The sun glued high in the sky; it grinned towards the pale white stones of the fort. Nathan had all ready slipped his way out the back doorway and shot through muddy grounds in the midst of a sweet and pleasant aroma. The birds chirped, crickets sang, woodpeckers pecked and bees buzzed. Twigs, pale leaves, rocks and rotten logs crunched under Nathan’s sneakers and water continued to drip on his dark brown hair. There was no way to deny it-- it was a great mimicry of Earth, an almost exact duplicate of some tropical forest island. Nonetheless the man was already counting in his mind the flaws their captors had made in the construction of the Earth mock.

The most obvious was the sun rising from the west and preparing to set eastbound. Additionally the trees were very similar in composition, most of them having exactly ten braches. Jagged white stones were placed systematically in rows ten feet apart every fifty steps or so. Finally, upon observing a few of the bumble bees he discovered anatomical flaws in the thickness of the wings and body. And what was with that window peering out into space? Nathan wondered. I saw that right before heading outside. Perhaps it was a television screen. If it was indeed real, what does that mean?

The density of the trees lessened. Leftward Nathan laid eyed on the mouth of a cave at the base of the brown mountain wall. To the right grew an expanse of tall wheat-like grass, a pointed radio tower a half a mile beyond. As appealing as these options were, Nathan was lulled on by the sight straight ahead-- the ocean. He stomped forward (sending some grazing deer into a frantic run) and lowered the declining landscape to the shoreline of the isle. The beach, void of any sand, consisted of rocks and splintered planks of wood. Nathan scooped one of the planks up and felt the rough texture.

“I can see the shadow of land in the horizon,” he said gazing out over the vast blue. “Perhaps it is better to let them do the killing for now. I have a strange inclination that something important is out there.” Nathan plopped the bag down, unzipped and yanked out his hammock. It was a tangled mess of white string. “I have the wood, I have the string. To work…”

***

The sun’s final rays vanished behind the mountainous mass to the left. Nathan tied his last knot. He get up, stretched his limbs and nodded in approval at his newly created raft. It spanned out five logs, three feet wide and seven feet long. The rope (that had before been a hammock) crisscrossed and bound the boat together. There was no doubt in Nathan’s mind that it was adequate enough to hold him on a voyage.

Walking down the shoreline Nathan did his best to estimate the distance to the island. When he was comfortable with his position the man threw the raft down onto the shallow portion of the water. Turning he snatched the biggest stick he could find to act as an ore and then laid flat on his belly over the raft. Before setting sail he tied the strap of the bag around his stomach and assured it was zipped up tight. When he knew all was as it should be Nathan pushed the rocky shore with the stick and began to traverse the dark icy waters.

It was wobbly and unstable, yet it floated. He carefully stoked the water, alternating from left to right, glad to see he was making some, even if little, progress.

And so he sailed on into the night’s horizon…

Jackie Cho [North of Preparation Area]

Run, the thought ripped through her head. In truth she started to run before the though occurred, and now the forest sped past her in a blur-- her calves burning, her arms screaming as braches and thorns cut at her skin. Running, Cho decided, had to be the only logical choice. It didn’t matter who it was. Anyone clutching a pistol equaled bad news.

A gunshot blast slammed her ears. Shrieking and picking up speed she wove around trees until she broke out from the forestry. Ahead a railroad track cut across white rocks, leading off into a tunnel made of concrete. Yellow signs were placed along the sides of the track, displaying a black cautionary “v”. past the tracks and up a leaf-riddled incline a white boulder rested in front of the face of a small mountain. The white stone shined in the evening sunlight. Piney trees were rooted few and far between.

Jackie immediately bolted for the concrete tunnel to find a grated fence and padlock denying access. Flipping around she went the opposite direction, racing down the wood tracks, her only thought focused on escape. The tracks turned slightly, reminding Jackie of a slithering snake. The sun vanished behind the accumulating clouds above; the world around grew dark and more dreary. Then Jackie realized she was tired. She veered off at the first patch of trees, stepping through weeds to get into the vital cover she desired.

She heaved the backpack between some roots and eyed the stout branches of a tree, deciding they were just wide enough to hold her although uncomfortably high up. Near the base, the branches were thin, though a few looked stable enough to climb on. Giving an uneasy glance around, Jackie unzipped her backpack and sliped her sandwich into a pocket. Following this she collects a number of stout sticks along the straw-scattered ground. She lodged a few of them near the weaker branches in hopes of making them look more durable. Anyone who comes after me will make noise, she thought to herself, scraping some leaves closer to the tree’s perimeter. Either by stepping on these leaves or breaking some of the branches.

Stepping up on one of the few sturdy branches, Jackie muscled her way up towards the top. Once she found a comfortable branch, camouflaged by the tree’s leaves, she rested her back against the bark and wrapped her legs around it. Things were getting dark-- real dark-- and Jackie did all she could to suppress the fear that bored her insides. Thinking the food would help she took the sandwich from the bag and started to chow down. The bread was stale, though for some reason it seemed like the most delicious meal of her life. Tossing the zip lock bag aside she watched it float down near her pack. Jackie gasped, seeing something very peculiar near where the bag landed. There were two orbs, a red and yellow aura, staring at her. A pair of eyes.


“Whoa now,” Jackie said nearly loosing balance. “Whoever you are, go away.”

The eyes came closer. Jackie made out the rest of its body. It was a tall man donning blue and silver armor. His eyes indeed pierced through the evening darkness and his grin showed a pair of sharp fangs. Most peculiar of all were black demonic wings, much like the kind Jackie saw in comic books, stretched out from its back. It cocked its head up, its radical aqua hair drooping in front of half of its face. “Contrary to your feeble perception begotten by too much time with normal humanity,” it said in a deep voice without its lips moving in the slightest, “I am not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” Jackie shrieked, “I don’t want to see another living thing as long as I live. Go!”

“Interesting that your curiosity doesn’t peak in regards to my identity and abnormal qualities,” said it. “I would caulk it up to a state of shock and disbelief continuing from when you started this little game. In any event I am here to help you. You are at present the most helpless, as I once was. Yet in your eyes I detect a will to kill, a dormant aggression that you’ve never been able to release, a passive attitude that you secretly despise. You want to kill the others. You want to go home. Home, yes. A warm room with a delicious steaming meal. A cat on the couch, a fire crackling, a touch from family. Ironic that home is the reward for winning, when winning requires you to do everything contrary to what you’ve learned from home. Well, it would be ironic if the reward wasn’t an enormous lie. Still, being the final survivor has its rewards and you get the gift of continued survival, even if its on a maggot’s level.”

Jackie couldn’t believe her ears. “Who--”

“The Phoenix. I already know your name. Now then,” In the flash of an eye The Phoenix perched on the same branch where Jackie sat staring at her from one foot away The shine left its blue hair, the sunlight waning further. “I could fill you in on Ap and the relation to this island but I don’t think you care.”

“But I do!” Jackie insisted. “Tell me everything, please.”

“Denied. I will not waste my breath on trivialities that will in no way ease our situation. Take this,” The Phoenix contracted his wings. He pulled out a gun from behind him, his gloved hands shoving the piece in front of Jackie’s nose. She took it. It was long blue-plated gun. The barrel extended past the body. A red and yellow shine reflected on it from the monster’s eyes. “A rail gun,” it said. “Fit anything that you can push in the barrel-- a stick, a metal bar, so forth, and it will shoot it in a manner more efficient than any pistol. If the substance you load inside is hard enough it can even go through objects to reach the desired target.”

“I really don’t want to k-- kill though,” she said, “But I mean. It might come in handy for defense…”

“You will kill starting now and end this fiasco as quick as you can. I’m not sure if you have the blood of Helm in you, but you are the one I have chosen to finish this. Remember that you must be willing to kill or you will never see tomorrow.” It leapt off the branch and flew into the night like a vampire bat. It was gone.

Alex Denman [Farmhouse]

The machine gun proved more burdensome than he first imagined when he found it within the old box. It was heavy, bulky, and somewhere in the back of his mind he imagined himself accidentally pulling the trigger and putting a hole through his foot. Still-- he knew practically well that there was only one logic reason for carrying it with him-- murder. The haunting voice of the mechanical malefactor echoed in his head. I must kill everyone, Denman’s thoughts went wild. I don’t know who I am but-- I know I don’t want to hurt anyone. I-- I’ve always wanted to help people-- to be there for someone.

The pressure of the neck collar was overwhelming, and even the light from the sun that seeped below the farmhouse’s door faded into a dread-evoking darkness. Alex pictured that some reptilian monster would leap out if he proceeded farther into the farmhouse. He felt much safer below the open canvas of the sky. Once he had slipped back outside ontop of the grassy hill he scoped behind the windmill. The wall of trees covered part of the orange and indigo sky. A gunshot pounded a distance away. That was all Denman needed to hear to get his body moving. He pawed the gun with both hands and zoomed for the cover of the greenery, lowering his body as if expecting a sweep of bullets to take his head off. I can’t do this, he thought as he went, panting heavily. I just can’t hurt anyone else. It’s not me. Only if absolutely must. Only if I’m cornered…

Constellations of stars watched overhead. Alex slowed his pace (gasping at every shadow of every tree) and then came to a complete stop when he saw something run past. It was a red and yellow streak, a creature that he thought a man from the heavy footsteps and gasping breaths. It vanished as quick as it had came, and it left Alex paralyzed with fear.

Was there any escape? Would he remain running the remainder of his time, destined to be shot or obliterated? What was that strange creature? He proceeded at a crawling pace, hypnotized by primal terror and the vastness of the moonless night sky.

Finn McCaorty [Dirt Road]

His head ached, arms burned, legs seared and chest moaned. The red-headed man had fallen asleep lying by the dusty road, head on a wet and mossy stump and his bag of goods clinched in a fist. When he woke he heaved up, abs sore, smirking in the direction of the dropping sun to the east. He plucked out the map the stranger Chigun had granted him and, taking advantage of the last spat of light, studied it intently. He pressed his bony finger on the spot he estimated he resided. Just a little trip southward and I’m at a garage. He may not have secured the jeep thanks to the shaggy haired bastard, but he would surly get something just as good.

Once Finn returned to his feet he gave a big toothy grin. He knew his injuries were healing up. The man walked forward south of the road, stumbling as if drunk, all the while wishing it was true. More than once he lost his balance over a slippery rock, or jumped from his skin at the sudden flight of a crow from the trees’ canopy. Above-- through the ceiling of leaves-- Finn admired the stars, stirring in his head the image of some mystic land on a mountain, a blond beauty by his side and bagpipes in hand. Then again, Finn thought, feeling an insect bite the back of his neck, even loosing all my money to the guys would be better than this. Hell, anything.

He dawned upon the garage sooner than he expected, running into the side of the brick structure and jamming his nose. “Shit,” he yelled, stumbling around the corner and catching sight of the open garage door. It was a peculiar sight: the tiny structure in the middle of a tree-infested terrain, no roads connected to it or any signs of civilization around it. Shrugging, Finn stammered through the open door and fingered the cool drywall for a light switch. It took him five minutes before he found it and flipped it.

Barren came to mind. The overhead lights reflected on smooth concrete. Finn approached a small tool bench first, dust rushing up his nose when he inhaled. “Lesse,” he said, “Gotta kit of hexagonal screwdrivers, a knife, a roll o’ bandages,” he moved the clear case with the bandages out of the way to look behind it, “keys to somethin’, and a book.” he scraped the book across the wood surface to read its title: Ap Tu, Pessue Husu.

The right corner of the garage took Finn’s attention. Black cloth covered something half his size. Unable to stop himself Finn let down his bag and map and tore the veil off the object. He stood shocked at the sight of a motorcycle, and a new one at that. Its muffler shined, its seat spit polished and Its casing a sleek black and grey that gave it a professional sports-grade appeal. Finn yelled in excitement, discovering that the Yamaha was fueled and ready to go.

“Oh, this is amazing,” he said, “Who needs a gun when ya got this bad boy.”

After the initial excitement waned Finn sat against the dented wall beside the bike. It was night, almost impossible to see outside, and given that the garage was surrounded by forest for at least a quarter mile, Finn decided it best to wait before driving. Besides, his mind spoke, there are killers out there. Hell if they get me. I’m not an easy one to get rid of!

Unconsciously he reached for his flask of whiskey.

Charlotte Briggs [North of Preparation Area]

The Asian trash poked her head up from behind the jagged boulder. Then, like a rabbit, she ran in a zig-zag fashion using some stout pines and oaks as cover. Charlotte yelled, taking aim as best she could (though failing to adequately line up her sights). In the pull of the trigger she was sent back into the rocky mountainous wall, her ears, like the time in her room, consumed by the tinnitus following the blast. The shock faded, and Charlotte knew deep within herself that she had failed to make the bullet connect with her peer‘s flesh. This feeling was confirmed when she ventured out from her cover and followed in her would-be-victims tracks. Charlotte saw what she thought might be her in the distance: a figure passing by trees and through bushes.

“Fuck,” Charlotte said. She stomped her heel on a twig. “I-- I could have had her. I should have blown her brains out the moment she said anything to me.”

She felt a fire burn within. There would be no tolerating these strangers. If she didn’t kill, another would take advantage of her and she would be the one breathing her last. That in mind-- she was left perplexed. What now? Without thought of properly answering that question Charlotte pressed the desert eagle against her chest and took delicate strides in the direction she had come from. When the preparation area, complete with signpost, came into sight Charlotte cautiously walked around to avoid being exposed in the open. The light of the day vanished, and by the time she came beside an old farmhouse onto of a hill the stars were out and she had trouble seeing very far in front of her.

Charlotte heard a woodpecker in the distance along with the call of a crow. The wind brushed her hair and the moist evening grass kissed her ankles. She crossed over a toppled tree, skipped over a rivulet and even caught sight of a dirt road. Where she was going was a mystery, but it comforted her to know there were no sounds of footsteps, no voices, and no human contact. The forest continued with the same trite, nondescript details up until Charlotte caught flashing red lights above in the sky. She also heard the crash of ocean waves. Sprinting to the base of the tower she grasped hold of one of its metal beam. There was no doubt about it-- it was a radio tower.

Scanning the gravel surrounding the tower Charlotte’s eyes locked onto a tiny shack made of flimsy red metal with a tin roof. Behind the shack and down a sharp hill she saw vast black waters along with distant far off lights. That’s either another part of this place way over there, she thought, or there are smaller islands out in that ocean. She looked from the tower, to the shack, to the water and finally to the dark forest wall behind her. It was night, the perfect time to hunt prey. Yet still the tower might hold some secret, perhaps the key to finding help. Finally, the islands held a mysterious and exotic appeal.

“Need to act,” Charlotte frowned, “I swear to God I will come out on top…”

Marco Didoria [Dirt Road -- East Bound]

It was dark, the sun dipping below the mountain that lined behind the infamous test facility. Marco had hit the road again, this time in the opposite direction. The red-headed man must have invoked his sympathy. Or, perhaps, the spark of fear in the man’s eyes told him he was like himself and, therefore, trustworthy. Either way Marco was searching for him.

Twenty minutes before Marco had cleaned house at the work shed. He had taken a wrench and shattered the padlocks on the toolboxes. To his great delight there was a rocket inside, a thin pointed missile that fit into the shaft of the RPG like a glove to a hand. He had also pocketed a box of shotgun shells, a grenade and the wrench he had used. Needless to say returning to the jeep with all his acquired goods proved more than a light task.

Now Marco, realizing his headlights were still set to low, switched the knob to augment their intensity. Again curious the man punched the radio button with his finger. He thought deep inside that maybe, just maybe there would be some clue in the programming. “--node is 12 miles high from the underworld,” said a man’s voice from the jeep’s speakers. “The gracious ones above, and of course we mean the ones in the mecha-planetary ring, have declared new freedom grants in regards to occupational selection on a personal level. Of course the OCU-tests will still set limits to some choices where the individual is shown to explicitly lack the qualifications.”

Marco slammed the breaks, shifted the jeep into park, cut the power to the engine and pocketed the keys. I’m sure of it, he thought. This is where that guy fell off from. I should find him around here somewhere. Marco snatched his bulky sack and rocket launcher. Popping the door open he stepped into the rough dirt and took a close survey of the ground. He kept his body low and squinted to see, going step by step and looking for any sign that might point him towards the stranger. Footsteps! Marco caught a pair of boot tracks, albeit faint, leading off southbound through a stretch of trees. It didn’t take but five minutes following the prints before Marco saw lights from a red-bricked building past a couple of trees. He slowed his pace so his footsteps wouldn’t crack any twigs or crunch any leaves. There was no doubt-- the man resided in the building before him. The question: could he really trust him? Should he give it a chance?

After all it he could still return to the jeep.

Daniel Seyton [Northern Cottage]


“Someone there?” Daniel Seyton asked with trembling hands. “You here to slaughter me?”

No response. The wind blew, birds chirped, and the sun sloped down in the sky sending its light into his eyes. “My… imagination?” His thoughts turned to the voice he had heard below the well. “That’s it, I’ve just finally lost it. This is all me being crazy. That makes the most sense.”

The man sagged his shoulders and waltzed over to the open door of the cottage, shooing away a swarm of pesky flies. Taking a peek inside he saw nothing that interested him particularly-- there was a hearth before a fireplace, an old stove and a straw bed all above a dusty old floor. Turning his head to take a close look at the rocking chair he about lost his wits. There, staring at him, stood a wide-eyed man with fiery red hair and piercing eyes. Daniel jumped back and gave a yell.

“Hell!”

“Woah, is it something on my face? Calm down,” said the man, holding out a hand as if to wave Daniel’s fright away. “Where’d you come from? Didn’t see you before.”

Daniel fell to his knees and snatched locks of his own hair, teeth chattering. “God, we have to kill each other. That’s what it said. Just get it over with, as you can see I’ve got no weapon.”

The man smirked and held both hands out wide. “All I have is some trinkets in my pocket, bud. No guns or anything. Geeze, why would I possibly want to kill you anyway?”

Daniel staggered back to proper footing, again pulling his trench coat closer to his body. “You’re just saying that to catch me off guard. I feel the breath of the wind, the solid porch,” Daniel tapped his shoes on the wood below him, “and hear the trickle of the stream. Its too real for me to be casually dreaming. So clearly my entire mind has gone crazy. You’re another part of me that wants to slit my throat.”

“Uh, name’s Revol. Not ‘part of you’.” The man stepped up onto the porch, placing his bony fingers on a handle of the rocking chair. The sun vanished behind him. The area grew significantly darker. Daniel noticed Revol clenching onto a small white bag. He tossed it and Daniel instinctively snatched it out of the air. “I found that tucked around the corner. Forgive me but I took a peek inside, you got a think for pink diaries?”

Daniel slammed the bag on the ground and opened it, shuffling through the contents with hurried hands. Sure enough a furry pink diary laid below a pencil with a pony shaped eraser. Beside that a flashlight and razor sharp scalpel rested in wait for use. Zipping it back Daniel threw the bag’s strap over his shoulder and shot a rather nasty look towards Revol. “I don’t know who owns this junk, but I’m keeping it.”

Revol came closer, smiling a wry grin.

[Continued Below]

Revol [Northern Cottage]

[Continued From Above]

The dark-headed lad was terrified. Revol could see it all over his face. “Daniel,” the newcomer said after a long pause. “My name is Daniel Seyton and I’m confused as hell.”

“Let’s go inside,” Revol nudged his head towards the open cabin door, “You have a lot of questions and I’m in the talking mood.” He paced in first without a second glance at him glum companion. The cabin consisted of a single room. The chairs and dining table looked worthy of admittance in a 19th century museum. The stove hatch was open, void of coal, and the fireplace had no firewood. After he grew tired of taking in the sights Revol plopped his ass on the hard edge of the straw bed. Then came Daniel’s awkward and slow entrance. The man pulled up a chair and sat three feet away, staring towards Revol like it was the first time he had seen a human being.

“So, uh, Revol,” he said. “What are these ‘rules and regulations’ I was told about?”

“Rules?” Revol thought for a moment. “Oh, right. That collar you have on-- just don’t mess with the testing guys and you’ll be fine. Also someone has to die every three days or everyone gets taken out.”

“So it’s true,” his face grew pale. “We are here because we have to kill each other!”

“Yeah,” Revol shook his head, “I wish I could tell you otherwise. But hey, you look like a reasonable guy and I ain’t got any plans to kill unless in self-defense. If we stick together our chances skyrocket. It might actually be fun.”

“Fun? Shit, are you high?” Daniel dropped the white bag to the floor, leaning forward, “Well I don’t want to play. You’re behind this, aren’t you? I don’t see a collar on your neck.”

“Long story man. In short I escaped. I don’t think I’m supposed to be participating. Seriously though we can both benefit from watching each other’s backs. Though if there‘s a girl she‘s all mine, comprende?”

Daniel brushed a hand across his forehead. He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Revol scanned the room. It’s much darker than before, he thought. Night came on me fast. Revol, bounding from the bed, walked to the entrance of the cabin. “Make your choice quick, Daniel. We either go together or alone.”

…

Chapter IV

Day One (Night to Morning)

Lyinda [Test Facility]

The silver rims of the door shimmered from twin fires dancing on circular podiums. The sleeper awoke with a jolt to find herself naked on the damp ground, a steel pendulum blade kissing her delicate neck. The pendulum’s surface displayed a young woman with dark gold hair and squinting eyes. There was a tint of fear in the reflection’s face, though surprisingly absent given the obscure situation. Pushing with one hand and pulling with the other she crawled from under the semicircular knife and, once reaching a podium, stood. The warmth of the fire soothed the skin that had pressed on the cool floor. Other than the fires there was no light source. Likewise, other than the door there was nothing significant along the pale walls. The slender yet muscular woman darted for the door, grasping the textured handle and yanking. It didn’t budge. She tried a second and third time with the same dreadful result. The woman had no doubt: It was locked tight. Above, the grated ceiling caught her attention—through it wafted the sound of blowing air and the smell of old cabbages. A small hole was cut at the center of the checkered vent for the rope of the pendulum to rise into the darkness above.

“Remain calm Lyinda,” she found herself muttering to no one in particular, “the flow of air comes above—I can probably escape if I cut through the ceiling.” The pendulum came to mind. Its blade would prove more than enough to cut through flimsy metal. Prior to having the chance to try her plan, a deep metallic voice consumed the area, its luring and rapid speech reverberating all around.

“That is the problem with your specific demography, man—wo. You are so certain that you can figure every puzzle out through intuition. Did you not stop to consider than the air you hear is coming out of a one-centimeter-wide copper pipe unfit for a human to climb through? Additionally you have formed a conception in your mind of the purpose of what that room is for. The truth is there is no purpose, even that pendulum isn’t able to swing, and there is no pit. Is this funny?”

Lyinda pressed her back to the hard wall. She panted and glanced around. “Whom do you work for?” The moment her mouth closed the silver-rimmed door creaked open. The woman stared but may as well have been glued to place, her forearms shivering. “I am clearly at your mercy. State your intentions”

“Through that door,” the voice said, “is a wonderland that encourages you to show love to your fellow man via bloodshed. More specifically, through that door is clothing to cover your ugly body. Most specifically, through that door is some utterly useless objects that may amuse you in the sphere of time you stumble about. If I got any more specific it would ruin all the surprise, do you not agree?”

“You didn’t answer the question you pig bastard,” Lyinda said after rapid pants, “Who do you work for? State your intentions.”

“The rebel whom goes by ‘Chigun’ is in love with someone. Can you guess whom? He loves the demolitions expert!”

Lyinda cursed. I’ve heard enough of this nonsense. The handle winked in the firelight. She snatched it, swung the door ajar and stormed through into a room covered with a blanket of darkness. In the distance a thin ray of chatoyant light reflected against her moist eyes. Step by step she forced her aching body forward. The light grew larger by the moment.

“You have ignored me,” the voice said. The point of light assumed the shape of a door. “Have your years of harsh disciplinary training and teaching desensitized you to the basic courtesies of conversation?”

“Quiet,” Lyinda snapped, “you may think you’re doing some justice to your country, but you’re just a filthy terrorist. You will be caught—especially if you refuse to let me go. It won’t be long before they realize I’m gone.” Lyinda blinked. She didn’t know who they were. She couldn’t recall the past week, or even the past year. “Have you put me on some kind of amnesia drug…?”

“Women are less rational than men,” it said, “we make no claims to be void of sexism, racism, ageism or ethnocentrism. Our point is that an older man would not have made a clearly false deduction such as an ‘amnesia drug’. Such a drug does not even exist, yet your lack of knowledge and tendency to talk brought about this moment of shame. It is truly fortunate that you cannot vote.”

Stepping into the light, Lyinda captured first the stone pillars by each corner. An alter waited in the center with the mutilated carcass of a kangaroo resting on top. The smell of decay matched the obscene sight. Behind the sacrifice waited a set of thin steps rising up to a wood trapdoor on the ceiling. A pair of trousers lay on the stone tiles with a folded T-shirt on top. Resting by the white shirt a lumpy sack awaited recovery. Lyinda took the shirt first, squeezing it past her head, arms and breasts. The tight fit showed the curves of her body well. The trousers went on next. Lyinda grunted in attempt to pull them up, again dealing with a garment two sizes too small. Once they were on she looked with disdain at her ankles and the bottom of her calves, noting that the pants didn’t go down as far as they were supposed to. Humiliating, yet irrelevant.

She thumbed through the contents of the dusty, wrinkled sack. The five items rattled around: an Ale-8 soft drink, a pocketknife, a bag of peanuts, a G.I. Joe action figure and a pornographic magazine. Lyinda’s eyes left the bag for the bare ceiling, and then to the stairs. “Women,” Lyinda said, “are a hell of a lot more intuitive than men. For example,” her memory flashed, “one time I waited in the trenches and lured out a man with a magazine just like this one here. The horny bastard put down his gun to pick it up. I almost felt sorry for the moron.”

The hard, cold stairs passed under her feet. The voice responded, yet she blocked it out with her thoughts. I have no choice but to proceed and play along. Eventually I’ll figure out what’s going on. I must keep a logical mind and suppress my fear. She pulled at the trapdoor’s handle from the top step. It detached and crashed into the stairs, toppling down by the sacrifice alter. She heard crickets, smelt grass and saw a purple and black mesh of a sky. Stuffing the sack into her trouser pocket Lyinda pulled herself above the trapdoor, feeling the dirt and the tickle of moist weeds on her forearms. She climbed outside. It was dark and difficult to make much out. The moonless sky provided little aid, though she deduced that a field expanded ahead and around her. The voice spoke one last time, “Keep in mind, confused, that you are not to reenter the test facility. Please kill others if you want to live. It is in the interest of the pursuit of science. Good day.”

In the distance an explosion resounded in the air.

Marco Didoria [Garage]

Marco knew someone hid inside. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what bright lights and harsh breaths meant. It meant the red haired muscle-head. Thrusting the hand grenade from the bag, he snatched it in-flight. Alliances had no point, he decided. They were going to blow up in two days unless they obeyed the bastardly voice anyhow. He crept around the corner with nimble steps until a stick cracked under his weight. The man inside yelled something in a strong accent. Marco turned the corner to the open garage door and peeked inside to see the man standing and looking around with rapid glances.

Marco pulled the pin from the green egg. The Scottish gentleman, seeing only the launcher and assuming the worst, charged for Marco with a brutal yell. He planted his fist into Marco’s gut and slammed an elbow into his jaw. Stumbling back the shaggy-haired soldier stared at the active grenade and, in a fright, lugged it behind his enemy. A flash blinded Marco, and a piercing explosion rendered him deaf. The rocket-propelled grenade launcher slipped from his shoulder. His face scrunched from the heat of the blast. It took a few seconds for Marco’s bearings to return when he noticed his opponent had vanished. “Where are you coward?” Marco said scooping up his launcher and taking aim at the shadows of the trees ahead. “You can’t run far, that blast must have scorched your back.”

Turning for the bricked garage Marco’s question vanished. The man, hunched over, glowered at him from the roof. His face remained half in shadow, his eyes wide and venomous containing both extreme pain and the anger of an animal on its last spurt of life. “You fucker,” he slurred after a cough, “No one kills Finn.” Marco witnessed a knife flick from Finn’s sleeve and park in his right palm. “Not after I just got the ride of my life.” He leapt from the roof and dropped down towards the shocked Marco. Shock turned to pain as the edge of the knife dug into Marco’s stomach. Embracing him Finn retracted the blooded knife, lunging for Marco’s throat while kneeing him in the balls. Marco thought fast. Using the RPG as a blunt weapon he bashed Finn in the skull. Marco stumbled back with a cupped hand around his delicate spot. Looking down at Finn’s struggling body Marco saw the flesh of his back under a torn and ripped shirt. It oozed crimson blood.

Finn staggered to his footing, turned, and attempted to attack Marco once more…

[Continued On “Finn McCoarty”]

Finn McCaorty [Garage]

[Continued From “Marco Didoria”]

Finn’s punch connected with Marco’s chest, his kick with Marco’s side. Still the pain biting Finn’s back exceeded anything he knew before. The last stretch had come. He’s gotta be on his last leg, Finn thought. He whiffed the aroma of his own blood and listened to the crickets’ songs. The sky began to light up with an orange and indigo tint—the start of dawn.

Marco retreated back and, in a display of stamina and finesse that exceeded Finn’s expectations, leapt onto the branch of a cider tree three feet above the leafy ground. “That hurt,” Marco said, “I’ve had enough of you.” Finn collapsed to one knee. The burn from the grenade proved too much to bear. Looking up he saw that Marco aimed the rocket launcher barrel directly towards him. “I didn’t want to waste this—but you’re too much to risk eliminating any other way.”

“Why,” Finn said between gasps, the sun visible in the western sky. “Why d’ya cave in and play this damn game?”

“Why?” Marco said, hunched over. “Survival. May your soul rest in peace.”

A bright glowing ball shot from Marco’s launcher. The trees, grass and sky warped around the object. The following second the rocket impaled Finn. Pain consumed his brain, the sky, then the ground, then the sky again sliding past his eyes like some kind of slideshow. Slimy red intestines slapped on his face while his head landed aside his severed foot in the mud. Pieces of his spinal cord and chunks of a fleshy arm rained from the heavens above. No breaths came to his lungs. He had no lungs.

His sense of sight failed first. The pain transmuted into an odd mixture of euphoria and anxiety. A line of speech repeated in his head, I’ll be waiting for you; I’ll be waiting for you. Now he remembered. He remembered his past life with clarity. She was his age, one of the first that stole his heart. The day before he awoke in the room with the desk and radio he had spent the evening on a bridge playing the bagpipes for her. “I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow,” she told him with a smile. “Promise me you’ll come back here tomorrow.”

Finn McCaorty died.

Alex Denman [West of Farmhouse]

The voice had called him a coward, a soft and average bloke whom didn’t have killing in him. It spoke the truth, though Alex didn’t see an issue in a pacifist stance. Just in case he changed his mind a black machine gun rested comfortably in his steel-gloved palms. If nothing else it would be the perfect tool in self-defense. With it he could sniff out a trustworthy ally and eliminate any with wicked plans.

The dark sheet in the sky slowly pulled back; the morning sun poked its illuminated head in the western horizon ahead. Water drooped on Alex’s head from moist leaves dancing in the wind. Sticks and leaves snapped from his fortified boots. The oaks and ciders thinned as Alex came out into a field. Before him a railroad cut through the grass, sitting atop a mound of gravel. Rightward, he saw, after squinting, the track running into a concrete tunnel and out of sight. Leftward it continued off sloshing up and down in an undulating fashion. I’ll head left he decided after a quick survey. After all, the tunnel had been blocked off with a grated fence and straight ahead there stood a white mountainous barrier.

The sky merged into a bright orange. A patch of forest along the journey took Alex’s attention. More specifically it was the sight of a human leg hanging from one of the branches between a cluster of red leaves and sticky pines. He approached with caution, skimming the outskirts and eyeing a thick bundle of herbs and bushes. Crouching down low Alex hid and observed. She was a slumbering Asian lass. Her body leaned to one side against a tree shaft and appeared ready to topple clear off. Her clothes were skimpy; her hair not too long and not too short. Parked on her lap a strange white weapon that winked at him in the dawn light. Alex’s sights lowered and locked onto a colorful backpack with pieces of straw scattered around by the tree’s roots.

I’ll watch here, Alex thought lowering and placing his machine gun on the ground in front of him. Girls seem to be the reasonable sort, I doubt she’d want to kill. I guess time will tell. And so he watched.

[Refer To “Jackie Cho”]

Jackie Cho [Forest Patch—West of Test Facility]

Jackie jerked awake. The light of the morning poured through the canopy of pines and leaves. Her legs were asleep, doubtlessly due to the weight of the sleek rail gun. “I wonder how long I was out,” she mumbled, raising the gun and jabbing her tingling thighs with an elbow. “Well, there’s work to do now.” She jumped from the branch and crashed onto the ground, stumbling forward and falling flat on her face. Rolling around she heaved up and stood, plopping the weapon beside her book bag. She unzipped the bag, plucked out her laptop, and pressed it on the muddy ground monitor-side-down. Luckily the battery to the computer didn’t require a screwdriver and, with the pressure of her finger, the thin power unit came out—a slab as hard as platinum. She tossed the unit from one hand to the other playfully. Once she grew bored of the single player game of catch she thumbed the unit down the barrel of the rifle. It fit perfectly.

The gun beeped and thin trails of steam poured out of slits near the barrel shaft. The aroma of gasoline with oil filled the area. Interesting, Jackie examined it while the steam thinned into the morning air. It must have converted the power unit just now into a shape it can fire, a gun that can transform anything into a bullet. I wonder how it looks when I pull the trigger. Excitement filled her. Her thoughts turned to the arburn-haired, pistol waving Caucasian. That woman would have made great target practice.

A notebook (and its companion the pencil) was the next thing Jackie retrieved from her pack. She scribbled a rough map, stressing her memory. She had gone north from the facility onto a forest path with quaint little rivers. Following this she ran west until a railroad track and then paced south until reaching her current location. She wasn’t that far above from where she started if her calculations proved correct. After staring at the rough sketch on the lined paper for a moment Jackie drew and arrow pointing left. She would keep going west towards the rising sun.

“It’s decided, I’m off,” Jackie hummed, stuffing everything of hers minus the gun into the pack. She sloshed it onto her back and took the rail gun in her right paw, resting the long barrel shaft on her shoulder. She took off in high spirits.

Charlotte Briggs [Southern Shore—Radio Tower]

“Those are Islands,” Charlotte said upon lowering the hill and stepping onto the rocky shore. They were near impossible to make out, yet she knew. A light flashed from one of the sea-bound landmasses, beaconing her to come. There was but one problem—Charlotte couldn’t swim all that way and she never built a raft or boat in her life. Still a denizen of the island would be safe. “I’m sure of it.”

The waves crashed against the shore. A sea breeze brushed by her hair and cheeks. Charlotte found it cumbersome to walk about in her heels and she couldn’t imagine what she could do to traverse the waters. Then she caught sight of a toppled over tree down the shore a bit. It had been severed from the roots by either a hurricane of sorts or the sharp edge of an axe.I read in a book once, Charlotte thought, about the tide. If I can catch it right maybe I can ride on that tree when the ocean pulls back.

“That’s a stupid idea,” said a voice. Charlotte nearly tripped on her feet as she twirled around. Red and yellow eyes glowered at her through the dark wall of the night. “Don’t be alarmed, I won’t waste my time kill a wretch like you. I am Chigun; consequently you have reached the very spot I am bound. Well, here and the old wood hut near the tower.”

Charlotte squinted but could not see the creature that spoke, only its fear-invoking eyes. “You heard my thoughts,” she said.

“Irrelevant, though I can remember the days when I would be shocked. I know exactly who you are and what you intend, an ability I bought through bloodshed.” It raised a hand and pointed towards the island, appearing to the young woman as a shadow blending in with the black waters behind it. “I don’t particularly have favorites, though I prefer those who are kind in nature. I do understand if you go the path of the contrary. I can help you get to the islands if you so seek, for many secrets lay dormant there.”

“I—I just want to be safe. Can’t you get me the hell out of here?” Charlotte said, “I have to go home, dammit, I want to go back.”

“No. The Apian people are a sick science-obsessed race, and heaven forbid they allow some to survive after witnessing a section of the geo-ring. You have no hope of going home. You can live under some semblance of existence if you are skilled enough,” it paused. “Head west down this shore, woman, and you will find a boat tied slightly out from shore. It has a motor and should take you there if it has enough fuel. If not do it the old fashioned way through an oar—after all your peer has beaten you on that end.”

Chigun’s words sped through her head. You have no hope of going home. Charlotte felt a tear trickle down her cheek and her jaw hung open. “What’s the point. I thought if I won I got to go home.”

Chigun extended a brown parchment and stuffed it into Charlotte’s hands. “I’ll be here if you need support, I can’t go far from this spot. Please, take this letter to the demolition expert on the southernmost isle. You may have trouble getting there as whirlpools surround it. Use the labyrinths on the other isles to venture there via the underwater cities.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” Charlotte said.

“It is, but your reward is having that collar of yours removed. Oh, and Nathan will kill you. I would avoid him.”

“Who?”

“Enough. Go, please. I need rest.”

* * *

She found the wooden boat, one resembling a canoe, half a mile down shore. It was easy enough to spot it given that the morning sun poking out from the western horizon. Swimming in the freezing water Charlotte climbed in and yanked the engine cord. It didn’t make a sound. With a loud cry and a drawn out sigh she returned to shore to fetch a suitable oar—in this case a long sturdy branch nestled in a spot of sand. Returning she untied the rope and began her slow approach towards the closest island.

Nathan Aki [Island # 1; Easternmost]

Nathan’s raft was coming apart. Fortunately the man discovered this just as it washed onto the sandy shore. The trip had been rough. More than once the raft flipped over. It was only by some miracle that Nathan managed to keep all his belonging together, though everything he owned was now soaked. He rolled off and crawled up the tan hill, rejoicing that he had solace from the freezing chill of the salty waters. He removed his pack and threw it aside, raising his arms at the sight of the sun, easily visible and casting an orange circle on the distant waters. “I did it,” he told himself with a laugh, “I did what no idiot here will think to do.”

The island was pathetically small. Nathan could see the other shore from where he stood on his knees, lowering his arms as the excitement ebbed away. In the center of the island was a grassy field with a singular palm tree. Below the coconuts of the palm stood a stone structure—a small labyrinth with a door leading into a dark unknown. Turning his head left Nathan saw a wood cottage. Half of the logs of this structure were cracked or caving in. He had to wonder if there was a place where someone actually lived. Looking right Nathan saw the bulk of the small country he had left the evening before. It was much larger than he originally imagined. He saw the tops of two other islands farther out past the palm tree.

Equipping his goods Nathan gave another glance at his raft. The strings were tangled and the cracking logs came loose. It was close to being beyond repair. Nathan had to decide what to do next.


Revol [Northern Cottage]

“Fine, together,” Daniel mustered the voice.

Revol lit a cigarette and pressed the filter side between his lips. He paced the front porch, gazing out into the darkness—hearing the howls of what he thought were wolves—and then plopped his ass on the rocking chair. Daniel followed, hunch-backed and hands in pockets, poking his head out the doorway and eyeing Revol. Revol eyed back, suspicious though his nerves remained calm. The warmth of the tobacco entered Revol’s lungs, where he then blew out the smoke in masterful ring puffs. His nerves relaxed and his head felt a layer of calm and complacency. He forgot just how good nicotine could be.

“Sir, er—“

“Revol, man. Now where do you want to go from here?”

“You know the place right? You tell me.”

“Well, eh,” Revol took another hit from the cigarette, “Might be better if we got an even bigger group, right? I want to go say hello to some people that way.” He pointed directly ahead of him. Daniel followed the direction Revol pointed with his eyes. “As you can see it’s night, so might be best to travel now under the protection of the dark.”

“Isn’t it the other way around?” Daniel mused, “I mean scary things come out at night.”

Revol cast an annoyed glance at the man, whom continued to press his trench coat close to his body and hunch over like a ghoul. His scalpel came to mind. I just need to get that away from him, just in case. Maybe I’ll get the chance to--

“Fine,” Daniel said, “lead the way, but if you try anything I’m out of here, understand?”

“Guess I could say the same,” Revol said climbing to his feet. He stepped off the porch and onto the moist grass. He took rapid steps and heard Daniel follow close behind, panting. Ahead awaited a forest line leading into a nest of trees, stumps and the like—the usual. Still someone might be found nearby, and for Revol that held particular interest.

“Yo, new guy.” Revol said, “If we run into any maniacs are you going to be fit to kill?”

Revol heard the young man draw in breath as he pushed a hairy vine out of the way, squinting to see two feet ahead of him. “If they look like they’ll try anything on me, yes.”

Revol nodded with approval.

[Continued Below]

Daniel Seyton [South of the Cottage]

[Continued From Above]

The distant wolf cries sent a shot of fear up Daniel’s spine. He took in a whiff of the cigarette smoke as Revol blew, the wind carrying it right to his nose. In honesty he didn’t know which frightened him more, the wolves, or the red-haired snake face that seemed so friendly at face value. Daniel had slipped the scalpel into a trench coat pocket minutes before, suspicious heavy on his conscious. He kept a close grasp on the rough strap of his bag of belongings.

The sky turned a shade of orange. Daniel was shocked. “Didn’t it just turn night? How is it that it looks to be dawn now?”

The man ahead shrugged, skipping over a mossy root and splintered stump. Daniel mimicked the jumps and kept close behind. Birds began to sing, customary to the mornings he recalled, and the crickets continued to hum. The howls died down and then, almost at once, halted completely. Peeking over Revol’s shoulder he saw nothing but more of the same—rows of stout trees, boulders, twigs, stumps, streams and miniature ponds with murky waters. There was no way, Daniel realized, that he could navigate on his own. For now sticking with him was best.

“So, Revol,” Daniel said after a long spurt of silence. The darkness had faded into morning light. “Where are we? Can you fill me in with detail?”

Revol flicked the remainder of his cigarette from his fingers and proceeded to light another one. “Far as I can tell it’s an island, not that huge. I was told there’s a volcano in the west, and some different caves and labyrinths, that sort of thing. ‘Sposidly each person you kill you get a point and can spend it for special things. Other than that I don’t know. The island could be in the middle of an endless ocean for all I understand. I doubt there’s escape.”

“Damnit. Then again, maybe it’s fate. I don’t really care—“

“Lighten up. You only live once, you might as well enjoy the game while you’re alive.”

“I—“ Daniel was awestruck. “That’s absurd! There’s nothing to enjoy about any of this. Hell, I don’t even remember where I came from. Where did you come from?”

Revol shrugged once more. “Don’t think about it. C’mon let’s pick up the pace. I heard an explosion earlier. Maybe we’ll find people there.”

Thus the duo proceeded further south, unsure of what they would find, or what traps could lay ahead.

…

Chapter V

Day Two (Morning to Afternoon)

Nathan Aki [Island # 1; Easternmost]

The collapsed abode had no windows, only splintered walls and floors that made ones feet ache. Nathan didn’t like the dim interior anymore than the average man, shuffling his shoes to get a close eye of the bookless shelves. He saw a peculiar statue of an Indian spearing a Caucasian man laying flat on the ground. Nothing stood out as useful, and nothing gave signs of recent denizens. Before returning to the sunny island, however, a small note under the shelf beckoned Nathan near. He thumbed it from the dust and read.

To those above, in all of your glory and power, do I write. The geo-ring is running at ninety-five percent efficiency. The connection with the ten Overhead Nodes is at full strength, and the S-4s have been distributed to all peoples.

There is no doubt that Ap is all powerful on a universal scale. This concludes my rather simple report.

The document held no ones signature, leaving Nathan curious to its author. Flipping the paper around he spotted a crude drawing of charcoal. On the left it read “Beginning” and had a picture of a tall city, with monorails running through and tiny stick figures walking about. An arrow pointed to the right where it read “End” with a depiction of a ruined city, buildings cut in half and corpses in the mud.

Nathan pocketed the paper and jumped out the doorway-- back onto the grassy plane. Waves crashed all around. A seagull soared and flew from above and, as usual, the wind pounded his face. The stone labyrinth beckoned him to draw near; its cracked steps leading down into a dark catacomb. Securing his belongings tight Nathan lowered into the depths, relived that it never grew pitch black, his every step sounding an echo.

***

Twenty minutes of the clay-bricked hallway rendered Nathan tired. Light poured in from holes cut out at the top of the walls, casting shadows on the skeletons and piles of dung. The foul smell chewed at Nathan’s brain with the effect of a toxin, the scurry of rats interrupting his thoughts. Drawings carved the ground from a knifes blade-- some depicting cities, some of large towers and others of stick men being tortured with tubes, blades and other devices. Nathan came across a small table, empty syringes and bottles scattered across the surface. He snatched one bottle and syringe and continued on.

“Great,” Nathan said coming to a three-way divide. Without putting much thought into the choice Nathan continued straight ahead, lowering a set of stairs and seeing more of the same kind of hallway. Occasionally he would catch sight of an oddly placed pillar that he would have to walk around, or a hole in the wall where the bricks crumbled away. Then he saw the end: a white, metal door with a circular wheel. The bolts were visible around the arched top of the doorway where much of the paint had chipped away. Snatching the wheel he turned with all his might, ignoring the screech it made from the lack of oil. The door came open.

Blood oozed down the white cracks of the medical walls. Leftward chrome cords dipped from the ceiling and went into the chunky throats of headless humans strapped to silver chairs. Ahead, behind a glass centerpiece, lurked five circular chambers locking in naked men and women whom stared at Nathan in terror. Below the glass centerpiece waited a control panel with its inner wires and processing chips exposed. Rightward hung a diagram of a conveyor belt carrying intestines and organs with foreign text written across the top. A ladder led down into a hole in the corner. A box titled “evidence” rested in the center room and bid Nathan to approach. He crept forward, pulled open the cardboard flaps, and retrieved the one and only paper tucked inside. He read:

Phi us Leampu’n Ap Te

Cde - Rachael Peacecraft

“To any restricted to the common tongue, I write a warning that needs your attention. The structure in the title is the epitome of fear within us, the reason many refuse to as much as leave our humble refuge. I, Rachael, have had the privilege of converting a former worker of the aforementioned structure, and in light of that have gained great insight to assist our community.

“Though it is not the Castle of Lost Dreams it is of nearly the same severity of punishment. Because of this knowledge it is clear to me that the majority of our captured converts are not sent to the land below, as formerly thought. Instead a subtle example is being made of us, even outside of the public eye. The technical term for this structure among the marked is ‘Phi us Leampu’n,’ for those of the common tongue, I have dubbed the truthful name of ’pressure house’. The origin is lost in history, much like everything else, but the techniques used there are rather primitive. The house generally has five levels, one under the element plate. Rooms are filled with circular holding tubes for humans, designed for many measures of torture. Through simple mechanics air pressure within these cells can be raised or lowered at any speed programmed. The result of one undergoing the torture is either a gradual or quick implosion. Reports show the eardrums rupture first, followed by the eyes. Death is only granted once the pressure surpasses the cranium, or in less common cases the lungs. Unfortunately, the horrors within do not end there.

“Incineration in furnaces is another common practice, along with a ride along the ‘Shink‘, or conveyor belt. The programmer can remove and ligament at any speed. They tend to go quick on the muscles, and slow on the bones. In response a cyanide capsule with a perfected fail-safe will be attached along the back of each members teeth. These can be removed once inside our walls. At the very least a peaceful journey to death can be assured. We will be addressing this as top priority. And as always, we will continue working to better protect the Red Stallion.”

The paper slipped from Nathan’s hands. Warm sweat soaked his shirt. The booming metallic voice returned:

“What are you doing?” It said, “Coming here was a very stupid idea.”

The lights shut off leaving Nathan blind. In his fright he stumbled forward and toppled to the tiled ground. “Turn that back on…”

“If you are so insistent on going this route to meet with me than I have no choice but to make it as difficult as possible. You will continue the remainder of this chamber without light.” A buzzing permeated the area. “Additionally we will go ahead and… kill the people in that chamber. You have no love for them anyway.”

“What is this place?”


“A prototype, a rather ancient place actually,” it said over bloodied screams, “it is unfortunate for you there are many ways to die in here. I look forward to seeing you stumble into a pod where we will squeeze your brain. Or mayhaps we will just crush your lower half and laugh with delight. We will keep your head alive until you grow old. You will be ever so bored at being nothing but a head for seven decades. Even if you make it through you will have to get me to cooperate and take that necklace off of you. Ask yourself-- why would I do something like that? You may as well turn back now.”

Once the voice ceased only the eerie buzz remained.

Charlotte Briggs [Island # 1; Easternmost]

[Refer to “Nathan Aki“]

The belly of the boat slid onto sand beside a rickety raft. The scolding hot sun laughed at Charlotte from its high spot in the afternoon sky. To contrast this a cool splash tickled her neck. She rubbed the seagull droppings off and stared at the white smear on her forearm.

The sand pressed between her toes (as she discarded her heels, finding them utterly destroyed from her journey). The rosy, half-collapsed cottage held for her little interest and she instead caught notice of the palm tree in the midst of tall grass. Its long leafy branches cast shadows over a crumbling stone outhouse. More importantly a coconut bobbed in the wind. Seeing no immanent danger the woman strode into the grass, small rocks cutting at her feet She scaled the textured stem of the tree and pawed at the fruit like a monkey. After the third whack it tumbled to the ground. Dropping down Charlotte took one of the sharpest rocks nearby and cleaved the coconut wide open. The innards tasted cool and delicious; it was nothing short of refreshing.

The sky held the late afternoon signs. Charlotte left the shell of the coconut and wobbled over to the outhouse, peeking in from the side without a wall. Ugh, this isn’t a place to use the bathroom. The stairs go down-- It didn’t take anymore thought, her legs moved for her. They carried her down into the unknown labyrinth.

***

Charlotte grew tired of walking down the endless hall of brown clay bricks. The skeletons no longer frightened her as much as when she saw them first, and the smell grew a bit more bearable. Still, given the horrors and the creepy pictures engraved on the floor, she couldn’t understand why she kept walking. This has to be something, that red-haired freak told me about this. Just keep calm. She pressed her side on the lumpy wall and took a breather.

A rat bite got her moving again. She passed a table with empty jars and syringes, and then the hallway came to a three-way divide, large overhead lamps illuminating the intersection. Forward a thin stairwell led down, and to the right and left it appeared as the same hallway expanding off. Which way? A pop shot through her ears and everything went dark.

She screamed and flipped the pistol from her jean pocket, aiming in different haphazard directions. A voice resounded from the distance, though she couldn’t tell which direction, and a churning much like a piston took her ears by storm. This is terrible, she thought. She had to choose which direction to take and, more importantly, how she would get much needed light!

Jackie Cho [Forest Patch—West of Test Facility]

A thud froze the confident Asian woman in her tracks. On the ground in front of her stared a cellular telephone, her face reflecting in its crystal display screen. She bent over (quite a task given the bulk of her gun) and picked it up, holding it to where she could get a clear view. Arching a brow she glanced over her shoulder and past the tree she’d spent the night on.

The phone slipped from her fingers, her eyes widening. A man in clad armor spied on her from behind a shaggy bush. He must have known he was spotted, and thus he spoke first.

“Hey, don’t’ be frightened. I-- I just want to talk, you know?”

Jackie flipped around to face him, restraining the urge to whip her rail gun into place in order to aim at the stranger’s head. She didn’t see a weapon with him, though she didn’t know what hid behind the bush. “Show your hands,” Jackie demanded.

The stranger rose two gloved hands, both empty. “I’m Alex Denman. And you?”

Slowly she lowered the rain gun so she held it with both arms, ready to aim and fire quickly if necessary. “ Jackie. How long have you been watching me?”

“Not long. Just got here,” he said, brushing a hand through his hair as he lowered his arms. “I-- you know. I just want to know not everyone’s gone crazy. I heard this explosion earlier. But I don‘t want to kill anyone! I just want to meet some people I can trust.”


“Well I certainly don’t trust you,” Jackie shot, tapping a foot from both excitement and anxiety. The sun’s rays lit the leafy ground beautifully, casting shadows all around. “I hear it, you’re fiddling with something behind that bush.”

“Uh,” the man’s face flushed red. “I, I admit. I do have a weapon. I didn’t want to scare you off.” Alex stood. Clamped tight in his right arm shimmered a black steel-plated machine gun. He kept the barrel towards the ground. Jackie, on the other hand, took aim immediately.

“Not funny,” she closed one eye and targeted his chest through the iron sights, tightening her grasp of the stock and trigger. “Give me one good reason not to blow a hole through that fancy armor of yours.”

Alex flinched and slipped behind a tree about five meters from the bush. “Calm down! I told you I don’t want to kill!”

It took about a minute before Jackie calmed herself. She squinted and saw the side of his arm sticking out from the tree. “Remove the magazine.”

“What?” he said.

“Take the ammo out of the damn gun,” she said, “I don’t want to be full of holes the moment I turn around. I want to know you can’t shoot me before I’ll even talk about traveling with you.”

“What about you,” he shouted back, his voice echoing from far away.

“That’s the terms buddy. I can shoot, you can’t. If you can’t comply than get the hell away from me.”

[Continued Below]

Alex Denman [Forest Patch—West of Test Facility]

[Continued from Above]

Alex’s back pressed against the tree, taking a moment to register the woman’s demands. He glared at the gun from the side and, after some thought, popped out the circular magazine with a small switch. “I’m keeping the magazine on me though,” he said, “It just stays off the gun until a combat situation, that’s all. I have to defend myself you know.” He extended his arm with the magazine between his thumb and index finger, allowing Jackie to see it. To further the message he squeezed the trigger. The gun sounded off piercing clicks.

“Okay, come out slowly,” she told him. Alex slipped into the open with cautious steps and approached her. She had since lowered her weapon allowing Alex to breath a long sigh of relief.

“You take point so I can watch you,” Jackie said, “I tell you where to go.”

“Damn, lighten up,” Alex said with a perturbed tone, “I told you I’m not going to shoot you. We can walk side by side.”

Jackie’s face went from angry to complacent. Her shoulders sagged. “Fine, but one suspicious move and you’re out of here.”

“Same with you. Then it‘s agreed.”

The pair started out westward, their shoulders rubbing and their eyes flickering towards each other every couple of seconds. Jackie kept her sighs on the machine gun, while Alex made sure he knew the position of her rail gun. They traveled slow, breaking out from the forest patch into the field with the railroad and distant white mountain. Jackie took a slight lead, curving to the left to follow along the tracks. Alex mimicked her moves.

“So, where are you going anyway?” Alex asked.

“Volcano,” she replied, “Don’t know why. Seems like a good place to spy on some of the other participants. I guess just to the other side of the island in general.”

“Not a bad idea. I’m curious what’s over there.”

They continued in silence for a time until Jackie pointed right. “See where the mountain gets shorter right there? If we climb over it’ll get us to the volcano quicker.”

Alex nodded, “Fine if you say so. Let’s go.”

Thus the two closed in on the white rock mountain.


[Continued Below]

Revol [Far South of Cottage]

[Continued from Above]

A pesky bee zipped from a patch of clovers and looped around. The chirps, caws, barks, howls, drips, splashes and songs resounded, as they usually did, accompanied by a fair smell of spring. There also came a noise not all that common: rain. It started slow at first, but it didn’t take long for thousands of raindrops to unleash on the world-- pelting the ground, hopping on leaves and drenching anyone foolish enough to stay outside. Along with the rain came its dark twin, thunder, clapping in all its anger. Those who got wet felt both sticky and warm feeling from the heat of the humidity and the uncomfortable drips of water on their head, nose and shoulders.

Revol wiped a droplet from his eyebrow and struggled to see anything other than green. He knew Daniel kept close behind, though paid him little mind in his drive to forge ahead. He traveled up the hill in hopes of contact with others. From behind, Daniel whispered to himself, muttered curses and pleas. Revol didn’t have time to pay it much mind increased his speed all the more.

Then he broke from the greenery, finding himself atop a small stretch of concrete. Leftward Revol saw the distant glimmer of a window and the wild twists of a windmill. Over the edge of the concrete slab awaited a ten-foot drop, and then a railway cutting over a mound of gravel leading into the distance. The tall grass of the field blew in the storm and lightning raged in the distance. Revol squinted to see ahead, scanning the area. He came upon two little specs and almost leapt with excitement. “Look! I think I see other people over there. C’mon lets sprint and catch up.”


Daniel clasped Revol’s wrist. “Wait, why? Why do you want to head towards the explosion? Why other people? They’re murderers!”

Revol flicked his wrist away and turned to face his cowardly companion. The man’s hair covered part of his eyes, drenched with the rainwater. His trench coat blew about wildly in the wind and he clamped onto his white bag with both arms. “Look,” Revol said, “I see what you’re saying about the explosion thing, but they’re traveling together. That means they’re obviously open to the idea of an alliance. Besides, we’ll keep a stealthy watch on them first. If they look like bad news we’re out.”

“Hell! Can’t we just stick together and go find a place to sleep somewhere?” We’re unarmed.”

“I’m a very good fist fighter, Daniel.” and with that Revol leapt off of the concrete slab and onto the railings. “Follow if you’re not chicken!” He sprint with all his might, the world passing by his vision in a blur.

[Continued Below]

Daniel Seyton [Tracks; West of Facility]


[Continued from Above]

Daniel ran as fast as he could against the pelting rain, squinting his eyes in fear of loosing one of them. I have this damn bag, I’m hungry, tired and sick of all of this. Revol remained a good deal ahead. Daniel’s boots clapped after each step, his feet beneath them soaked. I should just go off on my own, these people are gonna kill me in my sleep.

Revol stared at him when he finally caught up, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. He pointed towards Daniel’s right. On a stone incline, rising up for the peak, climbed two people hardly distinguished through the rain. “Follow my lead,” Revol said in a loud voice to combat the winds and thunderclaps. “See the trees by the base of that mountain? We’ll observe there, but we have to get there before they reach the top. In other words, run!” Revol bolted off from the tracks, onto the muddy fields en route to the two strangers.

“W--wait,” Daniel came close behind. Half way across the field the man’s boot lodged in the mud forcing him to pause and correct it. By the time he arrived Revol had found a comfortable spot between two trees. Daniel squatted next to the red-head and looked straight up. Sure enough there scaled a black-haired girl and a round armored man. The strangers were almost at the top.

“Look they have guns,” Daniel whispered. Revol Shhh’d him.

“They’re at a disadvantage while climbing,” Revol said almost inaudibly. “Quite a compromising position. Maybe we should take their guns.”

“W--what?” Daniel said two notches too loud “Let’s just--”


“Someone there?” Came the armored man’s voice from above. Daniel leapt to his feet and retreated ten steps with sweat seeping from his pours.

“Time to run,” Daniel shouted

“Who’s that?” asked a woman.

Ahead-- past Revol’s shaking head-- Daniel witnessed the Asian woman with defined muscles and Caucasian armored man slide down the side of the mountain to the murky ground. They approached Revol and Daniel’s position with hasty steps.

“Machine gun! Some kind of shotgun thing,” Daniel shouted.

“Shut up,” Revol demanded, also retreating.

The armored man slammed a black circular magazine into his iron-clad machine gun while the woman pointed a gaping barrel in their direction. Revol and Daniel looked at each other.

“Who are you two?” The woman asked Daniel and Revol. “You better give me a good reason not to shoot.”

“Likewise,” said the armored man, “I hope you two aren’t planning anything.”

Thus a battle loomed amongst the four, the future uncertain…

Lyinda [Preparation Area]

The sun popped up before Lyinda comprehended that light replaced the darkness. The chamber she experienced some minutes before dwelled on her mind, though the explosion took precedence of her thoughts. She took a moment to look at jeep tracks in the open field and then at the peculiar signpost with names. Then she darted off, clearing the length of the field and breaking into the western forest. The trees reminded her of her life before-- of the life she no longer recalled. Birds soared visibly above and, for such a hellish situation, the weather mimicked the perfect day. She hurdled logs and stumps and avoided pesky branches with the finesse of an acrobat. Her years of military training, a time she remembered only vaguely, paid off ten fold.

The patch of forest ended abruptly in favor of a lumpy dirt road. She continued down it without halting, eyeing the accumulating clouds above that eclipsed some of the comforting light. Then the jeep came to view. The one that made the skid marks, she thought. The owner must be responsible for the explosion earlier. I think I’ll pay him a visit. She found herself cursing when the jeep lights flickered on. The owner clearly sat inside. Right as Lyinda dawned the wheels skid, shooting dust into the air. The automobile rocketed off into the distance.

Stopping she felt the urge to hurl her sack of trinkets at her feet. “Dammit, I needed to ask questions--” her eyes trailed to her left and caught a line of obvious footprints between two giant oaks. “Maybe I can find them out on my own.”

She followed the tracks through the forest until coming to a bricked building. At the base of the structure rested a man or, more accurately, partof a man. It could be described as no less than a pool of intestines and blood, a head by an arm, a shattered spine. Scarlet blood smeared on the bricks and trees nearby. Lyinda could only pause and stare. It was a scene so vulgar that it would have been a rare sight even in the most intense wars.

She gazed out towards the forest and sighed. She needed to calculate her next move.

Marco Didoria [En Route to Volcano]

Resting on the passenger side of the jeep the green rocket launcher relaxed its head. Marco’s sack of goods overflowed. From it came the shimmering motorcycle keys and a thick and detailed map of all things related to the island. Marco’s fingers tapped the leather wheel excitedly, a gold circlet perfectly fit on right ring finger. Bandages wrapped tightly around his injured stomach, and below them a pinch of whiskey fought infection.

The ride consisted of lots of bumps, each causing the man to cringe in pain. Marco had to swerve off the dirt road and weave around trees to avoid running into the same cliff he encountered his first ride up. The radio dial winked at him and begged to be pushed, but the memory of the last two broadcasts stayed Marco’s hands.

A raindrop splotched on the windshield. Followed by a dozen others, and then a hundred. The area had grown dark, and the canopy of trees leaves swayed wildly in the sudden storm. He flipped on the windshield wipers to full and continued to drive on. Relief came when he came onto a gravel road, following it west with much higher speeds.

***

Ten minutes of the gravel road and Marco gazed at the new sights of the island. There were more stumps than trees, more stone pillars and archaic architecture than wildlife. He felt like he entered a Mayan civilization. The Volcano loomed ahead, towering a good one hundred times his height into the sky. The gravel road ended abruptly. The jeep rode over grass, and then rock, until Marco stomped the breaks. He reached the Volcano, and right in front of him, lodged into the side of the volcanic wall, a ten-foot tall and six-foot wide computer waited for his use.

Marco popped the door open and embraced the rain. He wasted no time-- slapping both palms at the Computer keyboard and staring into a blank screen.

“Hello,” the computer spoke in a high-pitched female voice, “I love you.”


Marco’s face flushed. “W--wha?”


“You drew first blood. Your grand total is one. Would you like a pistol? Maybe a gallon of water and a basket of cookies? Or may I entice you with a handful of grenades. Oh, rockets are nice too.”

“T--that’s it?” Marco muttered. The computer screen remained blank. “What about flying or super speed? You know superman shit.”

“Oh, you must be joking. You aren’t funny, you know. Wings require you to be much more proficient at your craft. So does super-- man-- shit? Anyway, name your weapon and it is yours in exchange for that point as long as it is not something ridiculous. Like a particle decelerator. That requires many more points.”

Marco gazed from the machine back to the running jeep as thunder sounded in the sky. Well, he thought. What to do?

…

Chapter VI

Day Two (Afternoon to Night)

Nathan Aki [Phi us Leampu’n Ap Te]

Fatigued and taken by fright, the young man slipped into a disturbed sleep.

Marco Didoria [Volcano Base]

“Where are you off to?” The disappointed lull of the computer asked, “am I not good enough for you?”

Marco didn’t waste time responding to a machine. Instead he raced to the dry sanctuary of the jeep’s padded seat. The rain pounded on the roof like a thousand fingers tapping on glass. The sky had darkened enough that the volcano became a silhouette in a fog of blue.

Slamming the door and flipping the light on he retrieved the parchment he secured from Finn and studied the intricate cartography. This circle here, his thumb pressed left of the volcano, leaving a smudge, has what I seek. Placing the map aside his hand met the gearshift and switched it to drive. The vehicle’s engine bellowed and the tires scratched. A jerk of the wheel sent it off in the right direction: zooming over barren dirt. Light shot in waves ahead; booming thunder roared as a beast. Worn stone pyramids and twisted iron pillars flashed past the windows. Large and small stumps alike spread across the path, some meeting the wheel of the jeep and giving Marco a harsh shake. He pressed the gas pedal harder with his big toe noticing, for the first time, his fuel gauge. It had another hour of gas at best.

The rained ceased in the blink of an eye. The clouds dispersed, starting with a small circle of clear sky. The circle grew until sunlight poured onto the land again. Marco gazed in astonishment at the shining blue until, looking ahead of him. He saw a white building speeding towards him. He slammed the break; the jeep skidded to a halt ten millimeters from the structure.

“Another close call,” Marco sighed, popping the door open and letting in the melody of the birds. Shifting to park and retrieving the keys Marco exited the vehicle and locked it up. “Guess I’ll leave my crap here so I don’t have to carry so much.” Twirling the key chain on his ringed finger, Marco trotted around what he assumed to be a house, moving from dirt to concrete. His feet froze once he got sight of what lie behind, taking in the sight of civilization-- of a city.

Three towering skyscrapers lined the back of the metropolis, their windows shimmering from the eastern sun. Between two of these a small tower stood on a rock cliff, reminding Marco of a lighthouse. In the center, surrounded by pools of green water, a statue-- a robed, hunched over woman, holding a small baby-- wept. She stood on a cracked circular pedestal made of black marble, a contrast to the white sheen of the figure. Eastward a blue capitol building watched the statue, its steps surrounded by thin columns that supported a second story. On the opposing end of the city a plethora of square huts littered the walking space, each without doors or windows.

Marco descended three stairs to the level of the statue, the wind blowing his ever lengthening hair. In his progress a peculiar detail became prominent-- that of the littered and maimed corpses covered in a white powder. Additionally the city had no streets, no light posts and no citizens roaming about. A deep bitter cry sounded from the capitol building and a tick pounded every second from a clock tower lying on its side. Thick wires ran from the arched roof of the fallen clock to the side of the capitol building.

Clamping his bandaged stomach, Marco lugged his heavy shoulders over to the woman statue. Engraved in the pedestal it read: “She who solves the puzzle will be granted access to the wealth of mankind. That which is tall and grand shall be built in an hour. That which serves no purpose shall rise in a minute. Seek elsewhere for the remainder of your instructions.” Blinking Marco read the message again, and then glanced up at the scrunched, miserable face of the hooded woman.

The sobs captivated his attention, drawing him to leave the statue behind in favor of the blue construct. Slipping between two vats of the water he ran the distance in but a moment, climbing the stairs towards the building’s black ironclad door. There, lying at his shoes, Marco gazed at a decapitated body dressed in a fine yellow tunic. Clutched in the cold pale hands a loaded revolver awaited retrieval. Where the man’s head should be rested a thick gray tome atop a splotch of dried blood.

Marco clutched the book in both hands and pressed his ear to it. This book is the one weeping? Sure enough the wail assaulted his ears stronger than ever. The title read “The Significance of Humankind.” Opening it he shuffled through the pages-- finding every one of them to be empty. Once he reached the end he noted the last page had been torn from place…

Far off, on the roof of the lighthouse, someone lined Marco’s head with their sniper’s scope.

Daniel Seyton(1) [East of Volcano-- Tracks]

“No!” Daniel bellowed as he took a trembling step back. Both the armored man and woman pointed their barrels towards him. Rain seized Daniel’s head, dripping down the bridge of his nose and over his ears. It didn’t phase him. Nothing except the daunting barrels mattered.

“Calm down,” the gun wielding man said in a drawn out voice. “Name’s Alex. She’s my traveling companion Jackie. You?’

“Daniel, and he’s--” Daniel glanced towards the distant tracks and then towards the mountain wall, “Revol? Where did you go!”

Jackie approached. “Where did he go?”

“Ran like a chicken no doubt,” Alex smirked, appearing to enjoy the situation. “Now that the courtesies of names are out of the way, why don’t you explain exactly who you are?”

Daniel retreated ten paces, his heart ready to burst from his chest. Then he felt someone warm breaths from behind. Before Daniel could investigate a pair of hairy arms constricted his chest. Below his chin he saw the shine of a knife’s blade pointed directly at the collar on his neck. Daniel flailed his arms and legs, but to no avail-- his captor had an iron grip on him. “Let go,” Daniel bellowed, watching helpless as Alex and Jackie came closer, “Revol, that’s not you, is it?”

“It is,” said a stone cold voice, “you two stop where you are.” Jackie and Alex froze. “I’m willing to bet this collar will explode if I apply enough stress to it. You wouldn’t like to go up in flames, would you?”

“I see I was right,” Alex said with arching brows, “you really can’t be trusted.”


“I saw it in your eyes,” Revol growled, “you were going to shoot anyway. Go ahead, I dare you!”

“Idiot,” Daniel yelled, “You’ll die too. You’re fucking crazy, traitor!”

[Continued Below]


Revol [East of Volcano-- Tracks]

[Continued Above]

The storms, the rain and the swaying of the trees around them stopped instantaneously. The clouds folded back and the eastern sun poked its head out to watch the events unfold. No one spoke after Daniel’s last words, though his weeping filled the air. Jackie’s eyes bored into Revol with a hatred, her lips curling down in a frown. Alex, by contrast, smirked and even made slight approaches in their direction. Revol looked from him, to Daniel’s thick mop-like hair. He kept his thoughts to a minimum, relying on his most primal instincts to lead him through alive.

“You’re bluffing,” Alex said. He removed a hand from his gun to feel at his own collar, “This thing is hard as rock.”


“I will see you splattered along the wall unless you leave me be,” Revol shot.

Alex continued his approach. “I‘ve had enough. I should have had the guts to do this earlier--”

Revol’s instincts flashed. Releasing Daniel, Revol gave him a thunderous kick towards the shocked Alex. Flipping the dagger around to a frontward stance he bolted around Daniel‘s guileless body, slipping to Alex’s flank and slicing into his eye. Alex released a guttural cry of pain, yellow and white puss flowing over his lips and chin. In a fury Alex twirled to match Revol’s position and unleashed two dozen bullets from the end of his gun. Revol flew back with new holes in his flesh. He slammed onto the damp grass.

Adrenaline flooded his brain. He staggered up and hurled the knife for Alex’s head, sprinting away with his last sliver of life. The pain hadn’t hit him yet-- though he knew it would. Energy evaporated from him, his stamina wiping away in the evening breeze. Gunshots permeated behind. Revol fell flat on his face.

He got up a second time, eyes bloodshot and mouth drooling. His sprint decreased to a jog, and then, at the side of the train tracks, he slowed to a stop. Everything around rippled in his vision and faded in and out of focus. Then he collapsed, two of his ribs shattered from the fall onto the track’s railing. Reaching out he took a handful of gravel and squeezed tight.

I can’t die, no…

[Continued Below]

Alex Denman [East of Volcano-- Tracks]

[Continued Above]

Daniel had run a good distance, but it didn’t stop Alex from firing continuous bursts towards him. Alex saw him fall to the ground through the crescent of his only eye. Then he collapsed. He brooded for a moment in an intermezzo of pain and numbness, and then he ripped the dagger from his cheeks, tasting an inordinate quantity of blood.

“AUUUUGHHHHH,” Alex scram, tendrils of blood dripping from his lips. Revol’s blade had impaled both cheek and tongue. He felt as if a chainsaw grinded his cranium in two halves, or like someone cut his eye open with a thin razor blade over and over again.

“Dear god,” Jackie exclaimed, though Alex barely heard her through the ringing in his ears, “are you going to make it?”

“’ut opp,” Alex said back, “ouk ish hhit.” He felt Jackie’s hand touch his shoulder, but he swatted it away with a yelp. ’Uur goina shuut me nuh, iight?”

“I don’t understand you,” she said louder, “We really need to patch you up. Oh, fuck. I can’t believe that just happened!”

Alex spit out a mouthful of blood and vomit, cradling his eye and cheek with his palms. Further attempts to communicate were futile. He wasn’t sure if he could live with the pain he experienced, yet he refused to let it end. It all depended on how his “traveling companion” chose to take advantage of him.

“I-- I should have something in my pack that can help. Just hold on, okay?”

Alex felt around for his gun and drew it close to his chest.

[Continued Below]

Daniel Seyton(2) [East of Volcano-- Tracks]

[Continued Above]

Daniel’s face kissed the ground. He could tell from the biting pain in his shoulders that he had been shot-- thought how many times he couldn’t tell. Slipping the scalpel from his trench coat Daniel continued by dragging himself along the ground, trying desperately to get as far away as possible.

[Continued Below]

Jackie Cho [East of Volcano-- Tracks]

[Continued Above]

The only thing Jackie thought useful from her pack was the notebook. She tore a few pages from it and, gently walking over to the hunched man (his armor gleaning silver from the last rays of the sun) dabbing what blood she could from his cheeks. He jerked and moaned, uttering nonsense. She got in front of him and, moving his hand from his eye gently, rubbed the paper to get the pus from under his already swollen eyelid.

She placed the paper by the base of one of the trees and reclaimed the rail gun she had left by the pack. The attack had left her trembling and, deep inside, she knew it could have been different if she hadn’t locked up with fright. I should have fired, she thought, I could have killed that son of a bitch before he even got close. She looked towards the incline of the mountainous wall they had climbed up. No, we shouldn’t have even confronted them. We could be far away right now.

Alex stood slowly and faced her, his face a purple and red mesh. His lips drooped and he continued to ooze blood. At closer glance she could see him crying from his good eye, tears dripping down his blooded cheek. “eets guh,” he said. Jackie interpreted it as Let’s go.

“What? Are you up for moving?” she paused and noted the direction he looked towards. “You mean go and finish those two off? One of them is dead, I think. The other one didn’t seem to want any of this.”

The man proceeded to talk some more, though none of it made any sense at all. Sighing Jackie zipped her pack and hauled it onto her back. “Seriously Alex, we need to talk about the immediate future. Your future.”

The last rays of the sun vanished. Alex looked at her and continued to weep.

Lyinda [Garage]

Lyinda’s snowy skin tingled from each drop of the sudden storm, her dark gold hair waving in the gusts. Her face remained stone hard as she gazed out through the collection of trees. Flashes of lightning and cries of thunder surrounded her. The rain tapped each leaf, pelted the garage roof, and washed the dead man’s blood away. She looked at the body one last time without the slightest of sympathies before trekking forward.

Her walk became a run after two steps, her military boots cracking every twig and stomping every thorny vine. She passed a patch of sugarcane and jetted through a grove of blue roses and weeds. Gliding around the trees held no challenge, nor did leaping over rivulets and ditches. Perched on the restless branches, crows watched her with their beady eyes. Death lies this way, they told her. You are running to your grave. The oaks and ciders grew more distant when, leftward, she spotted white specks. Slowing her pace she moved towards it, breaking free from the vegetation onto a gravel road.

Scratching her forehead with long nails she sighed. The rocky motorway spanned far off into the storm’s veil. Right before she took off again something caught her attention from the corner of her eyes. There, along the side of the road, a tall, wood church building with open door invited her passage. Dim candlelight flickered through two glass murals and on the roof a bell waited to be rung. Happy to get out of the rain Lyinda stepped up three creaky steps into the warm and, most importantly, dry interior. A red carpet with pews on both sides led to a small stage. Interestingly enough the pulpit wasn’t a pulpit at all, but rather a diamond-shaped steel exoskeleton housing a glowing orb. Inside the glass sphere fire and ice swirled around in a brilliant display of color, beaconing Lyinda to come closer.

Her every step reverberated, her breaths soft and direct. Once she had made it to the top of the stage the soldier pressed against the orb with her right index finger. A constellation of sounds consumed the church: a door slamming, gears churning, glass shattering, electricity humming and a generator cranking. The diamond lowered into the ground into a compartment that sealed off with a trapdoor. Turning she saw the pews had become white consoles with glowing computer monitors, the doors and windows replaced with iron slabs with connected red bulbs. The red carpet was no more, in it’s stead a pointed obelisk hosting a projector rose from the wood. The lens of the projector shot a cone of light.

A movie screen presented two pictures of different planets. On the right displayed a blue planet with swirling white-- undeniably the earth in all of its majestic glory. The left showed a dominantly white planet at least twice in size, a strange metal disc orbiting it as any natural planetary ring.

“Hello,” said a monitor behind Lyinda, causing her to jump in fright. It had a surprisingly human tone. “My name is Teleportation Facility Administrator, TFA for short. Please hold while I identify you.” Red flashed through Lyinda’s eyes. “Identification confirmed. You are Condemned 003245. How are you doing today, Condemned 003245?”

Lyinda cast a quick glance all around, looking for some unseen assassin that she would have to eliminate. “You’re a machine?”

“I am glad that you are feeling “you’re a machine?” I am doing well myself. Please state desired location of teleport.”

Lyinda stared at the projected screen for a moment, her jaw hanging open from confusion. “I-- I don’t know. Do you honestly expect me to believe I can teleport? This technology, the revolving pews and all, just which country am I in?”

“You are currently located at space coordinates X 1243-7345254 Y 0177-4856139. I have been denied access to pinpoint this on the display. Please forgive me, Condemned 003245.”

Lyinda stomped her foot and threw her leather sack onto the ground. “Stop screwing with me. I won’t talk. Even this new-age interrogation method won’t make me crack.” Her cheeks flushed, knowing she didn’t remember anything anyway.

“I have just been informed by Miss. Montag and Mr. Helmet that I have made an egregious error. Switching video feed.” The display changed to a map of a small island with a peninsula on the left side and three islands below. “I am told the islands are off limits because only idiots with no life go there. Please select desired location of artificial island ‘Dacil’.”

Lyinda laughed, knowing full well the spectacle was a fraud constructed by sick terrorists. “There,” she pointed, both amused and frightened. “Take me to that rock formation in the center. I want to see this.”

The wind lashed at her face, the sky cloudless with a purple tint. The giant volcano gazed down at her with a look that threatened to stomp her if she drew near. Small stone pyramids and twisted iron pillars surrounded the rocky area, and stumps scattered about. Rightward a sky-high cliff carried a mass of trees. At her feet, in the thick mud, her sack awaited.

Lyinda collapsed to her knees, speechless.

Charlotte Briggs [Underwater Catacombs]

The smell of decay snipped at Charlotte’s mind. Lowering to her hands and knees, she brushed her palms on the lumpy, dust-covered stones and proceeded with a burst of courage. The floor changed into a steep descending stairwell. She cautiously stood and tiptoed down, kissing the wall with her torso. She smiled as she pressed her bare feet at the bottom, sliding them the rest of the way. Sometimes she would run into a pile of bones or the carcass of some unseen animal. Her resolve remained and she pressed ever onward. That is until the strange sounds grated on her nerves. Deep moans sang from the walls along with the hum of electricity. A man’s yell came from far off, leaving her to wonder if it came from the man who used the ruddy raft.

Her head cleaved a wall. Crying, Charlotte held in a scream and groped the obstruction. An opening. She sidestepped and entered, her feet stepping onto icy steel, the smell of decay replaced with a pungent aroma of body odor. She continued to slide forward when her feet touched something warm. Bending over to feel, she touched what was undeniably a living human. He snored softly and muttered under his breath.

“What are you doing?” The familiar voice from the test facility said in a tone more angry than usual. “You’ve come as well? Have you both traded in your brains for garbage?”

“Shut up, fucker,” Charlotte shot, recalling the incident in her room. “Is there nowhere I can go where you aren’t spouting your crap?”

“What is that you have? A letter? For me?”

Charlotte’s eyes widened, reaching for Chigun’s parchment. “You? No, defiantly not you. Turn on some lights!”

“Denied. More importantly, you are faced with another, and might I add defenseless, test participant. You have a gun. Go ahead and shoot him dead and then leave so we can move on to better things. Oh and leave that letter here.”

Charlotte looked down at the man, seeing nothing. “I’ll so what I want, but not because you said it.”

“Very well. Just know if you proceed, and I do hope you leave the letter so it is not damaged, that you will be fed to a pack of pigs. A fitting end. That said, I bid you a good life. Goodbye.”

After a time Charlotte bit her bottom lip and sat down. What do I do?

Peter [Test Facility]

Peter jerked awake. A forty inch computer monitor flashed images of exotic trees and strange, humanoid birds. The machine had three separate keyboards, only a few keys that he recognized as English letters. Looking over his shoulder Peter saw nothing but dry walls and a paint-splotched concrete floor. Above, through a glass ceiling, dark outlines of human figures watched.

“Hello?” Peter stared at his thick leather gloves and then back to the monitor. “I don’t remember falling asleep here--”

“Hello,” said a deep computerized voice. “That whore Jackie Cho refused to fix out computer. We figured a man is more up for the job. Fix our computer please. Our records show you are good with puzzles.”

Peter’s blue eyes stared for a moment before it dawned that he might not be dreaming. Staring up he squinted to see who stood above. “Crap! Is this a kidnapping?”

“Perhaps so, the point is we can’t figure out how to access the Internet, or so we tell you. Just do as you are told.”

Peter stormed from the seat and paced around the door-less room. He rubbed his forehead and took in harsh breaths. “Oh god, oh god, I read about this kind of thing. You’re gonna ransom me off, right?”

“We take your jumping to irrational conclusions as an indicator that you will not fix the computer. This angers me. Activating Transport. Please die.”

The room vanished and Peter felt his body suspend mid-air. His back cleaved dirt and rocks. He laid outside below a moonless night's sky. Crickets and distant howls came along with the aroma of gunpowder and grass. Staggering to his feet Peter spotted a dirty leather sack waiting to be retrieved.

He had to figure out what in the hell was going on.

…

Chapter VII

Day Two (Night to Morning)

Marco Didoria [Western Metropolis]

What’s a man to do? Stuck in some shantytown watching the sun dip below the distant emerald ocean. The riddle made no sense. No, it made more sense than the white washed buildings that filled the city square—the ones without even a door, window, or chimney. There were no housecats like back on the old world and the roads were a pinch too narrow for any cars. And just why was that clock tower on its side, anyway?

Marco’s gaze lazily rose between the two skyscrapers (now reflecting a brilliant indigo and red from each square window) where a small tower jetted from the top of a rocky plateau. The slit on the tower’s domed roof hosted a white protrusion, what Marco assumed to be a light. Yet what if it wasn’t a lighthouse? Perhaps he should investigate.

No. Besides, he had a weeping book at his side (and wow, the howls can get to one’s nerves quicker than a few stabs in the gut) and a jeep he wouldn’t trust to abandon for long. Marco drew closer to the woman-statue as if about to ask her for some clue, and then returned his watch to the lighthouse. Then he noticed it—a little speck, like one of those ants you squish in the mud, moving about behind the light. Could it be another playing the game, he thought. That’s right. It was just a game, after all. I should be safe since the sun is almost gone, then again will I be able to see anything?

A high-pitched crack dispelled Marco’s thoughts. He lost balance, using his elbows to absorb the impact of his fall. Enough sunlight remained to illuminate the large hole in the lady-statue, and the chunks of marble lying by the tubs of liquid. Someone shot at him; someone had actually shot at him! Checking with a fury he breathed a sigh of relief to see no new wounds and then darted while crouching towards the neighborhood of featureless houses. He didn’t stop until one of the houses served as a wedged between him and the accursed lighthouse.

“The distance, has to be a long range rifle,” Marco panted seeing the first patch of stars in the sky (interestingly all in rather bland circular formations, it would have made boring astronomy). “Dammit,” then, for the first time since viewing the ungodly corpse, he groped at his new, shining revolver. That’s right. The assailant would wait and, after seeing no further movement would come to confirm his kill. All Marco had to do was wait him out and attack when the time came. Hey, a point is a point, right? What’s another stranger dead-- especially for a stranger who had shot at him.

The crickets grew especially loud coming with it the pungent smell of gunpowder. How long had it been? An hour? Maybe he would be better off staying frozen there until dawn. Yes, then he’d be doubly sure to watch out for any pesky ants in the distance. Never again would he be so careless. Or so he thought. A voice washed over him from behind, a female’s dark, melodious voice. “I have a teaser pointing at your spine. This teaser will render you permanently paralyzed.”

Marco jerked. He had told himself a million times: if someone snuck up on him he was to shoot without thinking. Yeah, easier said cozy and alone. Then he said: “wait, I—“

“Drop the weapon on the ground, move ahead ten spaces and turn around. Slowly.”

Marco tossed the weapon away from the dark concrete wall of the building, stepped ahead ten spaces and turned to face the woman. Slowly. To him she was nothing more than a shadow, a faint semblance of eyes with an amorphous body. Somehow he pictured her smiling.

“Good,” she said, “no sudden movements or I will kill you.” Marco watched the black blob move closer, felt it snatch the weeping book from his grasp, and return to its original position. He couldn’t see, but there was a pop, a clank, and the crying ceased. The night then seemed eerily quiet. “I was hoping you would be of some use, but I see you have a neck brace like the others. Still, maybe…”

“Are you going to kill me or not?” Marco said with his hands instinctively up (perhaps he had been a criminal before?). “An explanation would be nice, seeing as how you nearly put a hole through me earlier.”

She laughed. It was sarcastic, as expected. “Oh, well I’m not exactly the kind to care about lives as insignificant as the ‘test participants’. Still…”

“Still what?”

“Call it a hunch. You seem the type that can help me. Maybe in turn I can help you.”

Marco could see her a little more clearly. She had dark hair to be sure, short though covering her ears. Her armor, or was it a tight suit? The kind those dancers wear. No, it looked more textured, with sheaths along the belt, horizontal slits moving down her pants and a plastic-looking plate over her abdomen. Her eyes gave off a pointed, yellow gaze. Marco could only describe her as a ninja with demonic pupils, although she seemed very well developed where it counted.

“The only way you can help is getting me off this rock,” Marco said. “Well, maybe if you have some kind of arsenal that would help too,” he flashed his white teeth, thinking himself funny.

“Oh how I’ve longed,” her voice rose and shocked Marco, “to get off of this damnable rock. Even without the confinement of the explosive collar—even then I cannot figure out how escape is possible. I do have ideas…”

Marco wrinkled his nose. Something about her he just couldn’t trust. He decided to pry further, however. “I’m about as clueless as one can get. Seeing as how you’ve got me as hostage, I’m listening.”

She laughed again. “Come, there are ears here. There are special designated buffers where we can talk.”

* * *

The tick, tock and clang of the clock bounced back and forth in Marco’s ears. The clock tower had been close and for that, at least, he was grateful. Ahead he could see the shadows of the gears twisting and grinding. The woman sat on a wood beam (presumably a pillar that broke following the tower’s collapse) and indicated for Marco to take a seat on the floor ahead of her. Grumbling and thinking of the revolver in her custody, he obeyed. She now sat above him by a head-- her brows furled-- her sarcastic smile visible from a small fire she had lit near the entrance. The young man sighed feeling as if he were forced into story time or some other nonsense. Shaking his head, he then tried to remain serious.

“So, these ‘ears’ are deaf here?”

“Correct, this tower has been cleansed by me personally. You can say I’ve taken this city as my residence. I haven’t been out of my usual spots in a while.”

“So, no collar?” Marco examined her delicate neck, also covered with the black tight-suit armor. “You also seem to know a lot. Who are you? More importantly, tell me your plan. I don’t want to be in the dark about anything.”

Her smile vanished. “Just because I’ve let you live doesn’t mean I trust you. This is a killing field, after all. I’m Contra, an exiled assassin for the eighth-sector judge circle of the Apian Empire. They intended to put me where most exiles go, Zaybous, but there must have been some mistake. I ended up here!”

“’Apian’? And what exactly is ‘here’? Oh, and the weeping book—“

“One at a time,” she said, fiddling with his revolver and avoiding his eye contact. “I won’t try to explain what Ap is other than a planet that I happened to have served long ago, before the bastards cast me out. I barely know more about what here is than you. I know it is worse than Zaybous could have ever been. There is also evidence that it is in close proximity to planet Ap. I once spent two months on a voyage at sea from this island. No—there’s nothing out there. It just keeps going and going until you wind up here again.”

“Wait, so you literally went in and straight line and—“


“Yup, like one of those podchasers.” She noticed Marco’s blank look, “Eh, anyway, the volcano is sealed shut with titanium multi-level locks. The test facility building at the east has some interesting things inside, yet nothing that will get me off.”

“How long have you been here?”

“The six year anniversary is any day now,” her eyes returned to his. “Funny to
think I was exiled due to a simple misunderstanding.” She gauged Marco’s expression and looked as if waiting for him to ask for more. He decided to play along.

“Go on.”

“A record mix-up, someone had it out for me. My file was placed in the criminal section and the criminal, your typical murderer, in the supervisor. Funny thing was, I wasn’t even supposed to have a file—I’m no judge. The slave traders and exile transporters don’t know anyone personally, so one look at the file and they believed it. I was in bed, night, sleeping soundly when a knock came to the door.”

Marco grimaced. He could picture the rest.

“Five hooded men apprehended me and put restraints over my mouth before I could raise a word of protest. After all—my file was in the condemned rack—I already ‘had my trial’. And my brother, damn him,” she looked down. “Sorry—I only recently put the pieces together that he was most likely the one who did this to me. Anyway, long story short. I find myself with the rest of the cattle in the cage of a starship set out for Zaybous. I went to sleep and,” she paused, “I woke up inside this clock tower.”

Marco was taken aback. He almost felt sorry for her, though then again, was his situation much better? At least she had gotten the opportunity to live six years. With the collar he had a few days at best. His past and his future were meaningless.

“So, this book,” Marco broke the silence. “Was it audio devices?”

“Yes, actually,” she smiled with half-closed eyes, “a form of terror. Anyone without the knowledge would think it was legitimately crying and lose their mind. Ironically it was attached to a book about the folly of mankind.” Then, as if reading his mind, she said, “you’re thinking about sleep, right?” Her yellow eyes were glued to him. “I’ve told you all I will for now, it’s up to you wither to stick around or to run off. At this point I’ve made up my mind: you can do what you want. Help me or run off, whatever. I doubt I can accomplish anything that I haven’t tried before. Though your name would be nice…”

“Marco,” Marco said, “Marco Didoria,” he deliberately looked away and shrugged his shoulders. “First, give me my damn gun back, then we can talk about the whole I scratch your back, you scratch mine crap.”

“Someone’s foul tempered,” she slid the revolver forward without hesitation, to Marco’s surprise. Then she said: “Oh, you know what happens to the winners of these contests, don’t you?”

Marco stared at her for awhile, and then said, “no, can’t say I thought much about it.”

“Wise. Goodnight, Marco.” She pressed her back on the surface of the pillar after lying down and closed her eyes. “Feel free to shoot me, dear, though it may cost you your life.”

Marco continued to stare, utterly confused.

Revol [Railroad tracks]

It’s amazing how memories work. There are those times when you have brief flashes of images, of faces and things that warm your heart—yet you can’t quite place the specific time and events those images belonged to. Until this very moment, Revol had dealt with this problem, yet now it all flooded back like the cap in his mind had been plucked away.

It’s so dark now, and it was raining before. Where did the rain go?

What did it matter if he used to be an outdoorsman, a charming man in his early twenties who had just drew up plans for a new logging company? That was in another world, a fiction. All that mattered was his torso, filled with too many lead bullets to count, and the pain of his ribs that chewed at his flesh like a pair of monstrous teeth. But he had to get up. He had to survive. He was Revol, rated most likely to succeed in his senior year, a star hunter and wilderness survivor man.

Then his memories included the dark days following his capture, but he quickly brushed the thought of that away.

Heaving to his feet sent a biting pain through the left side of his body. It took all his effort not to scream and alert the others of his exact position. He then surveyed the sparsely forested direction he had came from, and then froze after hearing a rustling sound…

Jackie Cho, that Asian woman he had pointed out to Daniel, broke into the clearing with her fiery eyes on him. Her weapon has changed as she now clenched onto Alex’s heavy-duty machine gun complete with circular magazine. She pointed it at him. Revol stared at the black tunnel that was the SMG barrel with his mouth agape. He could only think of one thing to say, “wait.”

“It’s a miracle you’re standing,” she said with a voice more snide and sarcastic than he would have hoped. “Unfortunately you cut up Alex pretty bad. You’re too dangerous to keep alive.”

Bitch, he thought. Isn’t it obvious from my wounds I would die anyway? Still, maybe I can talk my way out of this one.

“W-wait,” Revol said again, “I was caught up in the moment, y-you know I would never play this damn thing. I lost it out there, please. I’m going to die anyway, so can’t you let me go?”

Jackie grinned ever so slightly, tilting her head. “If you’re going to die anyway all the more reason to kill you. Better the points go to someone.”

“You can’t be serious! You’re enjoying this, killing innocent people, I can’t believe you—“

“Look at you trying to place fault on me when you betrayed your own friend and nearly killed Alex. I’m sorry. Actually, no, I’m not. Goodbye.”

Revol was just about to say ‘wait’ for the third time when a series of pops, like firecrackers, washed over the land. Jackie smiled over the smoking barrel of the weapon, eyeing Revol as he examined the new holes all over his stomach and thighs. Both his shirt and pants were soaking with a crimson red. Needless to say he reeked of blood.

Then something hit Revol, something powerful and internal, like a part of him had just switched on. A little voice like the one that admonished him from within the test facility spoke inside his mind, though this time it was even deeper in pitch. “Submitting cleansing impulses. Submit.”

“Yes sir,” Revol said out loud, causing Jackie to stare in confusion. She thought about shooting again but figured he was just loosing the last shred of his logical facilities.

“Bodily functions down. Nearly fatal,” the voice said, “Enter soldier mode, then follow with survivor mode for approximately three days time.”

Revol’s eyes flashed with intense yellow, causing Jackie to gasp. His pain faded away and the dark green and brown colors around him grew more warm and vibrant. Glancing at his arms Revol smiled as the mussels in his arms bulged from a rush of concentrated steroids commanded from his S-4 implant. By the time Jackie shot another round at him he had ducked and leapt to the right with the prowess of a master martial artists. He lunged for the woman, his fist connecting with her skull.

Jackie was thrown back and slammed against the surface of a nearby tree, one with a tall trunk that provided little cover. By the time she had recovered Revol had already covered half the distance to her, his arm back ready the jab his index and middle finger into the whites of her eye. Revol’s hair danced wildly in the wind, his grin broadened and his excitement flooded into his veins.

He felt powerful, like he could snap any obstacle in half. More importantly he felt really pissed at the bitch in front of him who didn’t show him mercy. In the name of the laws of the land, she will die! But Jackie had other plans. Instead of sidestepping or attempting to avoid his advance, she took a bold step forward and jetted out the sub-machine gun. The barrel kissed Revol’s forehead and then—

A sharp, severe headache was the last sensation Revol ever felt. His body launched into the air and from the back of his skull brains shot out much like the blast of a shotgun. His moist eyes pushed out and his tongue dipped out from between his teeth. The new hole between his eyebrows came complete with a waterfall of blood.

Jackie rubbed the red bump on her forehead where Revol had hit her and cursed at the corpse. She only took a second before examining his body for all of his items. Once these items were secure she turned to leave.

Jackie Cho [Railroad Tracks]

[Continued Above]

Before Jackie had the chance to walk six meters towards the location of the other straggler, a familiar presence grappled her attention. Like last time the encompassing darkness of the moonless night masked most of its finer details, its silky blue hair covering parts of its red and yellow eyes. The beast stood and full height (towering at least seven feet tall) its sapphire armor shining just barely from the starry illumination. Jackie, her heart still pumping from the adrenaline of killing a man, wasn’t afraid. She did stop, however, and open her eyes just slightly in wonderment.

The Phoenix lowered its head. “You hold not my gift?”

“I still have it. It’s waiting for me near the mountain,” she pointed, though The Phoenix did not bother to look. “I figured since it could only shoot once before a long reload time I would swap it out for one better fitting for the situation.”

“Intuitive. To think before you were chirping on about self-defense and your refusal to kill. It seems a person can change in a day. Or, perhaps it is simply that the phony side of you has withered. You are, after all, only human.”

Jackie felt anger well up inside her. Whatever this creature was, she didn’t sign up for its help. Still, she decided it best not to anger it. “It’s as you say. Now I have another prey to kill, if you would excuse me…”

“I’m afraid my time is limited so you’ll have to postpone your plans,” it stomped forward. Jackie, in turn, stumbled backwards. She felt the urge to aim the sub-machine gun at the monster, to fill it full of holes. Terror began to flood through her veins—inexplicable and irrational. The Phoenix continued to speak through its mind, “take me to your latest victim.”

“What?” Jackie said.


Its red eye flared and grew brighter. “The one you murdered, I wish to see him.”

Jackie turned, trying to hider her shivering, and ran the six meters back near the train tracks. It was there Revol laid, sprawled out in a puddle of blood not yet congealed. Once at the body Jackie kept her distance, watching The Phoenix storm towards the corpse. It dropped to its knees, lowered, lowered some more and then…

Jackie turned her gaze away and grimaced. Chomp, crack, slurp. Other than cannibalism, she didn’t know how to describe it. It wasn’t like that thing was human, right? Nonetheless she couldn’t take another moment of it. With a firm step forward she started making her distance, figuring that the best chance to get away was while it wasn’t looking at her. Her brain scream to her legs to workuntil a deafening, skull-shattering bellow pounded behind her. Shoving a shoulder against a tree to prevent falling she stared back at The Phoenix. Its onyx wings jetted out, its body surrounded by a dome of crimson light. Turning it stomped for Jackie with a blooded smile, its fists clenched.

“N—no! Stay away!” Jackie heard herself say, falling back onto her ass.

“You have done me a service,” The Phoenix said.

“Get away,” Jackie focused the monster’s head in her gun’s iron sights.

It stopped with a barely perceptible smile forming over its lips. The red aura intensified and forced Jackie to squint. “It’s not as if I particularly enjoy that part either. I have some of my former power back—“

“If you don’t leave now I’ll kill you, I swear,” Jackie’s teeth clattered.

“I’m not leaving yet,” The Phoenix’s smile grew, “If you were wielding my gift I might have been afraid. That toy is not worthy of my notice.”

“You mean this gift?”

Both Jackie and The Phoenix looked up. There, in the shadows, was the barrel of the rail gun held in the shaking palms of Alex Denman.

[Continued Below]

Alex Denman [Railroad Tracks]

[Continued Above]

Alex knew how he must have looked, assuming they could see him through the veil of night. His eye had since sealed itself shut with a pitch-black bruise covering the side of his face. It had taken all his effort to speak coherently, although his mouth ached as if it held a thousand needles. Earlier he examined his checks through the reflection of a puddle to find two grizzly, bloody gashes that were bound for infection. That aside once he heard the yell and Jackie’s frightened voice there was no choice but to act. He was, after all, covered neck to toe with battle armor. “Don’t make any,” he swallowed spit and blood, “movement.” Alex caught sight of the mutilated corpse by the railroad track. Who’s doing was that? Alex thought, just what is that thing?


“This really is turning into an amusing spectacle,” said the demon, “I have gained back much of my old self through feasting on death. I doubt even that rail gun can kill me now.”

“Look at her,” Alex pointed toward Jackie, “She obviously doesn’t sheel comf’table wif oou,” he swallowed, “around so can’t you just get the hell out of here? Do you really want to find out if this can kill you now?”

The Phoenix glared from Alex to Jackie and gave a little nod, “It is almost daybreak anyway. I will return next time the darkness falls.” Its wings snapped and its massive body rose into the air. Then, like a bat, it darted off into the night sky. Alex lowered the gun and ran over to Jackie, whom was still sitting on her bottom. Offering a hand she hesitantly accepted. Alex couldn’t feel her, though he imagined she was both burning up and covered with goose bumps. Once the red glow vanished from the sky he bided Jackie to walk with him. Together they returned past the sparse trees to the mountainside they had started at.

“Thanks, Alex,” Jackie let go of his forearm and stumbled back to a large boulder. She sat.

“What was that ‘hing?” Alex said after a moment. Then, as if intending to cut himself off, he spat, “shit!”

“What?” Jackie stood.

Alex groped at the grass and dirt through the blinding pain in his head. Somehow he had enough wits to notice his bag of belongings were no longer there. What was more, in its place a magazine rested waiting to be read. More accurately, it waited to be looked at, given that it was a very recent issue of Playboy. Alex’s ears twitched, hearing leaves rustle. There, in the distance, he saw the shadow of a person running off. “He stole!” Alex pointed, “t—that bastard!”

By the time Alex convinced Jackie to go after the perpetrator it was long too late.

Lyinda [Near Volcano]

[Continued Above]

There was always a great satisfaction in learning a skill. Some enjoyed mastering sports, others martial arts, Lyinda must have been some sort of covert ops specialist or a part-time thief. Having come out of pure curiosity, she had snagged the bag and retreated even as the owners were returning. Better to get away with something to show than stay and get gunned down. Just through feeling the bag’s contents Lyinda figured there were no useful weapons. Just give me a damn gun already, she said to whatever was listening, or at least a place to take a bath.

The rocky road lowered the rocky hill in a back and forth fashion. Squinting past the dark she made out her footprints from her original trip to the bag. Now all she had to do was return to the giant volcano she had ‘appeared’ in front of and count her gains. The outline of some stone ruins waited at the bottom of the hill, and beyond, like a giant upside-down “V”, the volcano welcomed her to come closer. She ran over the grass that crunched under her feet, leapt over a collection of stumps and zoomed over the rocky terrain, until coming to the lighted up computer terminal that was so articulately attached to the side of the massive rock formation, not to mention the jeep tire tracks leading westward, the very same that had brought her to that dead man’s body.

Sitting she scraped out the contents of the bag and used the computer’s light to see what she was dealing with. First to come out was a long green key, then a bottle, a cheap cigarette lighter and a cellular telephone (which appeared to be out of batteries). Staring Lyinda gave a slight yell. “I went through all the trouble for this utter crap?”

“Ha ha,” the computer said, taunting her, “You are funny.”

Staring, Lyinda slobbered at the mouth, “does everything in this screwed up world talk?”

Yet the computer refused to say anything else. Lyinda felt like crying. She plopped down and watched the lonely black sky. What ever is a woman to do…


Nathan Aki [Phi us Leampu’n Ap Te]

One of the few decent dreams Nathan ever had the privilege of having evaporated from two distinct voices—that of the deep, masculine machine and a definitively feminine peer. His mind did a double take, his ears perceiving the minor nuances of a gun clattering in shaking hands. There was no doubt that meant trouble. Nathan secured his bag and scurried away from the woman in the direction he had seen the ladder; the pungent smell of blood complimenting the obnoxious screeches. Slipping the bag straps over a shoulder his hands slapped the ladder as he slid down. His feet met rough resistance and ahead a hint of light beaconed him to approach….

* * *

The computer had lied. More specifically, its exaggeration had legitimately frightened him. What a fool to let his guard down out of fear. The island was blanked by brilliant sunlight, the breeze warm and carrying the smell of sand and palm trees. Grass went as far as the eye could see and flowers of vivid color—crimson, plum, indigo, yellow—released their pedals in the wind. On top of a small incline a wood house, painted purple, appeared inviting. It was a two-story structure with large porch and many windows. Surrounding it were patches of cabbage and, to Nathan’s left, a field of wheat. Interestingly enough the sky had no sun, nor did it hold its regular blue tint. It was a deeper blue somehow, artificial.

Then ‘that woman’ came to mind. Slapping the bag down by a black cat (whom came by to sniff Nathan’s feet), the youth snapped out his shotgun and turned around. Sure enough the adolescent girl ascended out of the cave’s mouth, her pistol barrel meeting Nathan’s gaze. He froze, his eyes widening and mouth twitching, and for a moment gave into the idea of his immanent death. Snap out of it, his thoughts admonished him. I have the upper hand here. Nathan ran directly for her, knowing the unexpected move is always most proficient in combat. Avoiding being in the direct line of fire Nathan jabbed the front of his shotgun into her stomach. Almost at once the woman winced back and weaved around his shotgun, a furious fire in her eyes. Taking the initiative from Nathan’s shock, she pressed her desert eagle into his eye socket. Checkmate.

“It’s not nice to attack a girl, you bastard. Aren’t you supposed to be all chivalrous or something?”

“Wait,” Nathan inched his shotgun barrel closer to her. He had thought he hit her pretty hard, but whatever the case he was in some deep shit. “You came at me with that thing pointed at me, what was I supposed to do, give you a hug?”

Her smile faded, “put the gun down.” Gnashing his teeth, Nathan tossed the weapon aside, half of it landing within the cave the other half on the grass. “Now turn around.” Following instructions he faced the field and purple house.


“Look,” Nathan said, feeling the gun barrel on the back of his skull, “do you even know why I came here? I can’t imagine you happening to know too. You must have been following me this whole time.”

“Shut up—“

“This is the least beneficial time to fight, or did you not hear the warning? Three days without playing along and its goodbye to our heads. Even if you kill me, do you think you can get back and kill someone else in that amount of time? No. Back at the staging area I had a prevailing thought enter my head: go, go to the southernmost island and seek out the demolitions expert. Someone here can get these neck collars off. If that happens we don’t have to kill anyone.”

“This is a trick. You want to let my guard down.”

“I’m unarmed. Take what you will, but look, time is of the essence for the both of us.”

The gun barrel receded from his head. The woman rushed past him and snatched the shotgun, then stumbled over to take the bag. She was quite the funny sight trying to carry all of it. Then she, facing Nathan, backpedaled to get as much distance as possible. “Take me to this expert person or I’ll use all of this on you.”

Nathan cracked his neck and scoped the purple house. Pointing he nodded. “That looks like a good place to start looking.”

[Continued Below]

Charlotte Briggs [Southernmost Island]

[Continued Above]

So, his name was Nathan Aki. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, though his mostly blank expression annoyed her. In her left hand she wielded the silver pistol, in the right the shotgun. The bag bounced against her back hanging over her right shoulder—and it was really damn heavy.

The pair stopped before the porch of the house. Nathan began to head around to look for a front door when a voice took them both off guard. It belonged to a woman, young, spunky with an air of sarcasm. “This is no place for a young couple to go on a date, oh no, what a silly decision this was.” Charlotte and Nathan stepped back (still a good distance away from each other) and up where they heard footsteps. The slender figure came into view. From her gentle eyes she removed a pair of oil-splotched goggles and slipped them into a pocket of her white miner’s work-coat. On her arms were peculiar steel gauntlets and around her thin neck hung a pale necklace. Her hair, dark blue like the artificial sky, covered one eye. Contrary to her tone a smile did not appear on her face.

“You were the one speaking to us this whole time,” Nathan said. Charlotte shot a glance over to him. Is he serious? She isn’t anything like I pictured—no, it’s not true.

“I apologize for the trouble,” she said, resting her elbows on the porches railing, “but there has been a mistake. You weren’t supposed to get here at all. Someone must be tinkering in my affairs.”

“Wait, so this is the demolition expert?” Charlotte said, making a face from the pain in her shoulder. “You’re my age.”

“I’m no expert, I just happen to have made your collars,” her expression grew more angry. “Now shut up and hand me the letter.”

Charlotte caught Nathan stare at her from the corner of her eyes. Then he said: “collars off, then you get your letter.”


She laughed, stepping back from the porch beam and turning her back to them. “You’re in no position to be bargaining. Well, it has been quite a few years…”

“Since?”

“Since I tested anyone. Please wait there,” she walked off out of sight. By the time the woman came around the wood house her goggles had returned to her face and black gloves covered her hands. Charlotte shrieked and moved away from her and closer to Nathan. “You may use anything at your disposal. Your job is to defeat me in combat. If you succeed the collar key is in safe six,” she smiled, “I do not intend to show you mercy so I expect the same in return.”

“What? You have no gun or anything,” Charlotte said and took another step back, now at Nathan’s flank. “And there’s so much I want to ask—”

“I agree,” Nathan said bluntly. “Answers are preferable, though I don’t intend to leave here without getting this off. If fighting you is the only way to do this, than so be it. Also, a name is polite. Mine is Nathan.”

“Mine?” her smile turned sad. “That’s all in the past now. I would so like to read that letter before dying, but this score needs to be settled now. As for your questions young lady, I’m sorry but I have nothing to say.” Her arms rose in front of her face, her hands forming fists, “prepare yourselves and kill me.”

Charlotte froze, unsure of what to do.


Peter [Preparation Area]

There were no words to describe the confusion and the fear. To live once in a land of positive energy (the memory of which was blocked by an amnesiac barrier) compared to the dark, humid outdoors of this land. Peter’s thumb brushed the rough material of the bag and tensed his shoulders. Ten minutes had passed in this featureless field without any sign of life. There was no moon to guide the way and the stars were unlike those of ‘that planet’. Whatever the case running was the best plan of action, and so that was what Peter did. The grass crunched under heavy footsteps as he took in steady breaths. There, to the right and up that hill, a silhouette of a building next to what appeared to be a windmill. Forging up the incline the silhouette became more clear, that of a wall, an old farmhouse. Yes, it was the perfect place for cover where he could formulate a plan.

The door was already cracked so getting inside wasn’t a problem. What was a problem was the light; Peter squinted and felt around, touching the hard texture of an oaken table and the smooth feel of wallpaper. To the right he felt a wood door and he wasted no time in opening it up and slipping deeper into the house. There was an old cabbage smell and he gave a few coughs from sudden inhalation of dust. To Peter’s great relief he came upon the cool dial of an oil lamp. The blue flame within the globe sent shadows dancing along the walls. The room had white carpet, yellow painted walls, three leather couches, a brick fireplace and another door leading off into a dark haze. Sitting on the couch beside the nightstand that he had found the lamp on, Peter fished through the bag he had acquired from the voice. The first thing that came out was a silver spoon. Peter almost laughed, discovering also a magnifying glass, a pack of cards, a bag of cookies and padded gloves. Returning them to the sack he sighed. I was expecting something better than that.

His hands froze from a sudden sound outside, like someone had hit the side of the house. Forgetting the bag Peter rose and kept a calculating gaze in the direction he had come in from, sliding his boots along the frilly carpet. Reaching the fireplace he searched around and found in a basket a poker: a fine long metal rod with a pointed end. Cautiously moving back to the couch he had been sitting at, he knelt by its side and peeked out just barely. He would be ready for any enemy that decided to barge in on him.

The front door of the house creaked open…

[Continued Below]

Daniel Seyton [En Route to Farmhouse]

[Continued From Above]

It took five whole minutes to climb to his feet. The wet bark itched against his neck and forearms and the darkness brought no hope. Sounds were distorted, even the crickets seemed more melancholy than usual, and Daniel couldn’t place the smell. Was it his blood? Just thinking about it caused the man to clinch his fists, breath deeply and gnash his teeth. Betrayal, it wasn’t as trivial as the storybooks made it out to be, a few apologetic words or treaties couldn’t right the wrongs or take away the wounds. His mind flashed with pictures of the redheaded devil, those cold eyes, that lulling voice! Hate never held such a precise definition as it did then.

“I hate you, hate, hate you!” Daniel’s voice grew sore, his eyes moist and his jaw aching. Taking his first attempt at walking Daniel collapsed back to his knees, his palms landing on sharp rocks that added two more wounds to his body. His stomach churned and then a spray of chunky vomit spewed from his mouth. He figured there went the last of his nutrients, given that he hadn’t eaten since he had arrived. Staring up he cursed louder, wanting to pull some great deity from the sky and force him to make it right. Just get up, Daniel, he thought to himself. This is it, you only have a little bit of energy left. You have to get somewhere to mend yourself and fast! I refuse to die because of that bastard Revol! Climbing up once more, Daniel bellowed a yell from his chest and charged forward, legs churning. At once he regretted his decision as things around became blurry and his head faint.

Daniel broke into a clearing and passed over a railroad track, and then beyond he saw the silhouette of a house he had seen once before—the farmhouse. Reaching a steep hill leading up to the house Daniel collapsed once more and had to proceed by crawling, using embedded rocks and sticks to scale up. Each new rock he grasped sent pain shooting to his cranium, his gunshot wounds (at least more than one, Daniel decided) stinging like a constant barrage of bees. Once at the top he used the frame of the windmill to stand and lurched for the house wall. Using the support he walked around the side, catching wind of the door and a faint candlelight from inside. “s’one there,” he whispered, a stream of tears flowing down his checks.

I’m going to die.

Pushing the door open Daniel stumbled in, coking his head rightward towards the firelight. He wasn’t fooled for a moment. He saw the dark mop-like hair sticking above the arm of a leather couch. Daniel gave a wry grin. Ironic to come all this way only to find another ‘player’, but what did it really matter? Falling to the carpeted floor Daniel’s senses dulled. “H—help,” he whimpered.

Daniel knew the bitter truth. If this unknown player didn’t help him soon, he would most assuredly leave the mortal realm and answer that all-important question. Still, he didn’t want to know. Not yet. At least let me see the sunrise one more time…

…

Helm Character Recap…

Gives point by point moves of characters up through chapter VII.
Gives current health of characters as of the end of Chapter VIII.

Lyinda (Kromoh) - Uninjured

IV: Starts
V: Traveles west until coming to Finn's body and the motorcycle shed.
VI: Finds a strange church that turns out to be a teleport station. Is sent to the volcano.
VII: Steals Alex Denman's belongings.

Nathan Aki (Sindred) - Injured

I: Starts. Obtains double shotgun.
II: Goes to southern fort. Obtains ammo and grenades.
III: Builds his own raft and sets a course for the easternmost island.
IV: Arrives at the easternmost island.
V: Explores island and goes deep into an underground labyrinth. Talks with the expert.
VI: Dreams of Russia…
VII: Meets up with Charlotte and relinquishes items to her after reaching the southernmost island. Meets the demolition expert who wants to fight them in order for them to have their collars removed.

Alex Denman (DD) - Severely Injured

I: Starts with battle armor.
II: Goes to farmhouse. Obtains machine gun.
III: Leaves farmhouse unsure of where to go.
IV: Discovers where Jackie is and spies on her.
V: Reassures Jackie and travels with her for the volcano. Meets Daniel and Revol.
VI: Revol takes his eye and injures his cheeks. Shoots Revol many times.
VII: Waits as Jackie kills Revol. Threatens The Phoenix. Loses his belongings.

Jackie Cho (Lord Toaster) - Uninjured 2 Points.

I: Starts.
II: Goes north and is caught off guard by Charlotte and her pistol.
III: Escapes danger, heading west. Makes to sleep in a tree. Meets The Phoenix and obtains a rail gun.
IV: Plans where to go. Spied on by Alex.
V: Meets Alex demanding he take out his gun magazine. They set off for the Volcano. Get cut off by meeting Daniel and Revol.
VI: Treats Alex’s wounds the best she can after Revol assaults him.
VII: Kills Revol. Meets The Phoenix for the second time.

Macro Didoria (Grod) - Uninjured 1 Point.

I: Starts with an RPG.
II: Fights for the jeep with Finn and wins. Heads west and enters a tool shed.
III: Receives items from shed. Drives back to where he saw Finn fall off.
IV: Kills Finn McCaorty
V: Takes motorcycle keys and Finn’s items. Drives to Volcano.
VI: Drives far west to a city with an odd puzzle connected to it.
VII: Nearly shot by Contra. After both calm down they talk.

Finn McCaorty (Man of Steel) - Dead

I: Starts with Chigun. Receives map of the island.
II: Fights Marco for the jeep. Rides on top of it until being thrown off.
III: Enters a garage with a motorcycle in it.
IV: Is flanked and killed by Marco and his RPG.

Charlotte Briggs (Carousoul) - Uninjured

I: Starts. Obtains Desert Eagle
II: Goes slightly north and aims her gun at Jackie Cho with intent to kill.
III: Fires and misses. Jackie gets away. Goes far south.
IV: Wants to go to the southern islands. Meets Chigun who gives her a letter and a boat.
V: Reaches the easternmost island. Goes through a labyrinth and all lights shut off
VI: Catches up with the sleeping Nathan Aki. Taunted by the demolition’s expert.
VII: Reaches the southernmost island with Nathan. Meets the demolition expert who wants to fight them in order for them to have their collars removed.

Revol (De-loused) - Dead

I: Starts without a collar. Goes north.
II: Travels until meeting Daniel outside a wood cottage.
III: Talks with Daniel. Goes inside cottage.
IV: Travels south. Is suspicious of Daniel and wants to take his scalpel.
V: Follow explosion from Marco’s rocket. Meets the untrusting Alex and Jackie.
VI: Takes Daniel hostage. Manages to slice Alex Denman’s eye out and cut both of his cheeks. Is shot several times but gets away temporarily at the train tracks.
VII: Is revealed as an agent. Dies at the hands of Jackie Cho and the machine gun.

Daniel Seyton (CyroDragoon) - Severely Injured

II: Starts. Meets Revol outside a wood cottage in the north.
III: Talks with Revol. Goes inside cottage.
IV: Travels south with Revol in the supposed attempt to meet others.
V: Follow explosion from Marco’s rocket. Meets the untrusting Alex and Jackie.
VI: Taken hostage by Revol. Runs and is shot by Alex three times in the back.
VII: Manages to make it to the farmhouse where Peter is.

Peter (PeteB) - Uninjured

VI: Starts
VII: Travels to the farmhouse. Is visited by the injured Daniel Seyton.

Frank Dread (Firedog) - Uninjured

No History

Rogger Dread (Tigerman) - Uninjured

No History