Chapter Text
Tired and drowsy faces behind rain-specked glass surrounded Krystal’s float car as she maneuvered through the traffic at a snail’s pace. The coffee thermos was about three-quarters empty, but it seemed that the caffeine had begun to plateau, leaving the early morning fatigue to slink back in. She tapped a few keys in the console of her vehicle, activating the car’s A.I. and letting the autopilot take over. Leaning back in her seat, she looked ahead at the row of ships and cars at the sliver of dawn peeking out of the rain clouds that loomed over the surrounding metropolis. Random squares of glass began to flicker on with ghostly yellow light that framed the ant shapes of the building's occupants. The city was waking up as slowly as she was.
A sigh escaped her lips when she heard the sound of rain drumming lightly against her car’s window. The white noise of rain was her favorite to fall asleep to, and it made her debate the merit of a nap. It wasn’t like she was going straight into a chaotic high-stakes operating room, so what if she got some shut-eye? The seat whined mechanically as it reclined backward leaving her to seek a sleepy refuge in the sound-dampened interior of the car. Even through the fogged glass, she could make out several of the other drivers laid back as she. It seemed wasn't just her fighting the morning fatigue. Eyes closed, she began to daydream, in the mist of half wakefulness.
Today marked day six of overseeing Alex’s recovery as well as subtly probing the strange man’s memory. She had expected some progress, maybe a small trickle of vague recollections, or sudden epiphanies. When he wasn’t lying in bed reading, she walked him around the outside courtyard of the medical facility during each visit. One would think it would be enough daily stimuli to trigger something, anything.
It had been fruitless. Every day she’d go through the usual spiel of questions, give him his meal prepared by her mother, then ask again, his only response was a confused no. At least he hadn’t had any adverse reaction to the food. He was getting stronger as well walking on his own, and requiring less sleep. In fact, for the last couple of days, he was out of bed early wandering the room, rubbing the strange mark on the back of his neck when she would enter his quarters. Alex looked worried more than anything, and it was curious that he hadn’t mentioned the letters and numbers on his neck until he caught her staring at it.
He was reluctant at first, but eventually, he had allowed her to examine it, his mind put at ease with a grilled cheese sandwich. Tattoos were quite the commodity on Cerinia, her own painted chains that encircled her arms a symbol of pride and creed of the healing cast. However, his markings didn’t seem to denote anything beyond a simple number and letter designation. She didn’t like it, and she didn’t like how her patient rubbed at it whenever he was nervous, as though it was an unwanted brand. It had kept her questions at bay, and the unspoken method was still a no-go.
Any personal speculation she kept to herself, deciding to give up on sleuthing out any further clues. What was the hurry anyway? But that was just it, that same feeling she had felt on the beach, a persistent scratch at her subconscious, the same one that compelled her to come to work with her sidearm clipped to her thigh holster. It wasn’t Alex that she was wary of, in fact, the strange novelty of his presence had worn off, even the rest of the staff who would clamber to get a “look-see” at her patient now regarded the alien as a routine oddity.
She would occasionally catch little snippets of their gossip.
“Maybe he’s a mutant. I mean look how ugly he is.”
“I bet it’s an escaped convict, trust me I know the type,” and other silly nonsense she did nothing to encourage.
To her, he was just a polite man in white pajamas.
Her introspections became more vague while she dozed off, the roar of rain and wind persisted causing the car to sway, rocking her to sleep. A shrill proximity alarm snapped her awake, and she sat bolt upright, her hands swiftly grabbing the controls ten and two. Something wet dribbled down her chin, a cursory glance in her mirror reflected the embarrassing string of drool dangling from the corner of her mouth.
“By the realm, what’s the point of caf if it’s this short term.”
She hurriedly downed the last of her thermos, before appropriating the one she had intended to give Alex.
“Sorry pajama man, but you’ll get to have as many naps as you want, in lieu of coffee.”
Krystal gulped another warm quarter from the second thermos, her free hand maneuvering her vehicle into the Praxa medical hangar. The white interior fluorescent lights stung her eyes making her squint briefly before her vision adjusted. The building must’ve been light on patients; the space was sparse of vehicles aside from a few cars and a couple of rows of boxy shuttles that were reserved for emergency transport. She quickly slipped her car into its spot closest to the lobby door. Exiting the vehicle, she gave her muscles a good stretch before swiping her keycard on the door panel. The glass panel turned green and she stepped inside. The rain puddles and dirt in the hangar had soiled her shoes somewhat, and she did a quick shuffle to scrape it off. Krystal turned her head up expecting to see Yuto, the stern-faced nasally voiced bookkeeper at his desk. The chair behind the desk was empty.
What was this?
Yuto was always at his desk, usually ready with a dry humor remark.
“Well, well judging by your morning coffee mustache and vacant expression you’re less than half awake.”
Krystal’s eyes traverse the space before her, past the desk terminal and chair to the hallway beyond, then quickly to the row of empty waiting chairs to the left and right edges of the lobby.
No one.
No Yuto.
No guards.
No patients.
No healers.
The entirety of the space was devoid of anyone.
Suddenly she wasn’t so tired anymore … she was wide awake.
Krystal widened the radius of her telepathy, finding only vague distant impressions of minds. It was difficult to discern if the building was empty or sparsely populated, at the very least there should’ve been someone at the door to prevent any trespassers to the restricted levels of the building. Maybe there had been an incident, necessitating an evacuation of the facility. That couldn’t be the case though; she would’ve been given an alert and her vehicle diverted from the hangar per protocol. The wind and rain began to hammer more incessantly on the windows and skylight above the lobby.
She was too exposed here standing in the entranceway, her figure perfectly backlit.
The first thing she did was speed walk to the row of light switches next to the patient receiving hallway that stretched out of the lobby. Using her palms, she flipped the switches off all at once, rationalizing it as the need to save power. For the very first time in her life, Krystal went behind Yuto’s desk, expecting to trigger some kind of explosive tripwire followed by a harsh tongue lashing from the bookkeeper, but the spectacled dragon that guarded the medical records was still nowhere to be seen.
She wanted to call out, or shout “hey where is everyone hiding the jokes not funny,” but she knew better.
The truth of her predicament became stark when she looked back at the front entrance. The control panel’s hue had turned to an ominous red indicating that it had been set to its lockdown setting. There was a spooling sound and a metal blind slid over the door, effectively blocking her exit to the hangar. She still had her keycard, but that proved to be useless as well. Each time her card made contact with the panel it responded with a disapproving beep. Her hand went to the data-link clipped to her belt. She powered it on
and tried to call the security office. Tapping the call icon did nothing. Krystal’s frown became a grimace, as she tried calling the overseer's desk, then a random nurse's number ….. then her parents. Krystal looked nervously at Yuto’s desk terminal waiting to hear the cheery ring when she hit the call button. The computer screen remained dark … she couldn’t get past go.
She fought the urge to kick the door, and instead carefully drew her sidearm. She turned to regard the hallway that led into the outdoor courtyard and fountain. It was the only conceivable path to another possible exit. As quietly as she could muster, Krystal made her way through the corridor, her back scraping the right wall, trying to hide her profile as much as possible.
She took one last glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being tailed before peeking through the window. The courtyard was large, the ground neat trim grass that was split four ways by a granite walkway, a towering fountain at its center. Each of the pathways led to the other three main structures of the Praxa medical building. The rehabilitation wing to her right was the one Alex was housed in, the one opposite was the intensive care wing and as a result held the second hangar reserved for emergency landing and evacuation of high-risk patients. Even if the entirety of the building was in lockdown as she suspected, the entrances to the emergency wing hangar would be exempt and accessible.
“What if it’s him that’s caused this, maybe he’s killed them all, and I’m next?”
She almost shook her head at the obvious improbability of this. He was capable both physically and mentally, but no lone man in simple pajamas could take over an entire building this well guarded, and triggered a lockdown, having only a little over a week to familiarize himself with the layout. Pressing her keycard against the door panel revealed it to be unlocked and it slid aside for her. Cold morning air seeped through her gray scrubs, but the overhead retractable tarp shielded herself from the rain. It also cast a shadow over the space awarding her natural concealment. Moving swiftly, Krystal took cover next to a trimmed brush that bordered the walkway to the intensive care wing. Again she peaked above cover checking her surroundings for signs of someone, anyone else.
Nobody …. the lights to the joining halls and patient rooms were on, but she couldn’t make out any occupants. She was in a completely deserted building, on a stormy, dark dreary morning. The whole thing creeped her out.
“Maybe this is how patients really feel at the doctors … is this how Alex feels as well?”
She was still deciding which way to go next, when a strange cold foreign panic flooded her senses.
She needed to hide, get the hell out of here, scurry to some crawl space before whatever unseen intruders found her.
Pushing the intrusive thoughts away she again craned her neck looking left to right.
Krystal was at a crossroads, she could proceed to the right to the wing her patient was housed in, or escape to the hangar before whatever unseen threats befell her.
No … no she needed to run, she needed to hide they were coming.
In a flash, she realized where the thought came from.
Crouching until her figure was fully concealed behind the sticks and leaves, Krystal closed her eyes, reaching out to the dark impressions floating to her. It didn’t take long to find the source, it was rapidly becoming more strong and incessant.
There!!
Inside the intensive care wing about three floors up she felt a collection of minds, maybe a dozen or more, it was difficult to tell …. they felt off. There was another blast of panic, an instinct to hide, she was so focused that it took her completely by surprise. The sudden jolt made her yelp, and withdraw reflexively, but she recognized who was sending the telepathic signals to her.
It was Meesha, what in the blue blazes was she doing here, the other healer had been on a month leave; she shouldn’t have been nowhere near the facility. Krystal had no time to ponder this, at that moment she sensed something descending to her level through the structure of the building. Whoever or whatever they were, they were using the elevator, and she didn’t need to be a genius to predict where they were going next. She bent the branches around, until she had a big enough aperture to watch the front entrance of the intensive care wing without being spotted. A couple of minutes went by before she glimpsed two dark shapes marching towards the sliding door. The wind and rain masked the slight hiss of the door parting, but as the pair of figures moved into the shadowed courtyard, she heard the unmistakable thud of metallic boots and the jingle and clicks of well stocked ammunition belts and holsters.
She leaned closer ignoring the poke and scratch of leaves on her face. The trespassers were wearing full armor, purple grayish plates broken up by black flexible mesh at the joints and neck. One of them walked onto the granite pathway until they were about ten paces from her. Their partner planted his shoulder against the outer frame of the door, his gun aimed the way they came, covering the point man’s rear. The other armored man merely waited, his helmeted head surveying his surroundings. Against her better judgment Krystal reached out to the mind of the intruder before her, and what she glimpsed contained past the dark visored visage sent a chill down her spine.
It was a mind that was uncompromising, unfeeling, with a single minded drive to hunt and kill. The primitive instincts of natural predators came to mind, but this felt more conditioned and controlled, indicative of training and discipline. Her hands tightened around her pewny sidearm, and sweat began to form on her neck. It was a fulfillment of all her darkest apprehensions. Her place of work had been turned into a makeshift killing ground for well-armed invaders. Krystal looked first at their oversized rifles and armor, then at her small pistol and grassed stained scrubs, gauging the odds.
It was slim to none. Her only advantage was that they hadn’t seen her yet; she could get a shot off maybe two or three, land a crippling or fatal hit before she was cut down. Her best chance at survival was to see what the next minutes brought her. Krystal sighted carefully at the lead man. If he came too close she’d nail him first, his partner second while his back was to them. He lingered for a few minutes then motioned for his partner to follow him. He retreated backwards from the door, his step more light and quiet. The pair made their way towards the fountain, before making a left towards the lobby entrance.
Krystal waited until the lobby doors had shut with them in it before she jumped over the hedge and bolted for the door the armed men had exited. It slid open and she crept inside with her gun drawn half expecting to feel the impact of a lethal projectile, but the hallway was empty of anyone. After doing a double take of her surroundings, she typed a command in the door controls, locking it. It would serve as a temporary barrier from the intruders, she had no doubt they had enough firepower to blow it open, but it was better than nothing. Plus something told her that Alex was the true objective for these mystery invaders and somehow they lured Meesha here as well, he had to be in the same vicinity as the other healer. Krystal reached out again grasping for Meesha’s presence. There was no urging, no sudden shock of panic this time, instead the impression was akin to performing a task under intense pressure.
Now that Krystal was in closer proximity she could perceive the dark storm cloud minds of the intruders with better precision. There were two distinct groups, one cluster above and ahead of her surrounding Meesha, the second a ways further; definitely on the top floor. Alex had to be up there as well, she sensed that the closer group was less focused on Meesha and more on what was in the room with them. It had to be him no doubt, and the second group was awaiting his arrival in the hangar, where they were sure to whisk him away.
Krystal looked down unfavorably at the gun in her hand, and thought about all the heavily armed foes above her. Never in her life did she miss the feeling of her staff in hand. There was no way she could take them all on by her lonesome, it was suicide; she might as well tape a flashing siren on her head and charge at them for all the good it would do. Her only hope was to somehow get a signal out for help before they left with her patient, she prayed that Alex and Meesha would be spared from any harm in the meantime. Krystal muttered a four-letter curse word that she felt best summed up her predicament before speed walking for the security office. If she could get to the security hub and power on the relay dish, she could send
out an emergency transmission; it would send armed guards and ships to the building in a matter of minutes. A simple enough plan provided she eluded the armed intruders, and kept a quiet step.
“Krystal you stupid idiot you should've just stayed on the damn beach and ignored it all gone home and lived the rest of your life in boredom,” her subconscious scolded all the while she crept towards greater dangers still.
—————————————————————
Alex breathed deep and slow, his body motionless, eyelids closed. The screen to the left of his bed displayed his gradual declining heart rate from a steady sixty beats to a slow dribble of forty. A thin I.V. tube snaked from his right arm to a container of sedative that was gradually emptying its contents into the sleeping man. The translucent fluid flowed in a slow arc up and up on a continuum to his blood stream. It would’ve completed its journey, and would’ve gifted Alex a peaceful slumber, but a little nick near the end of the tube caused the liquid sedative to spill onto the sterile bed sheet. Past the cut hidden under his arm two ends of a fork tine pinched the tube shut ensuring none of the excessive fluid entered his veins. The other end of the fork that was now sharpened into a makeshift shiv was tucked under his left palm.
Alex knew something was wrong even before Meesha had entered his room. His relatively boring and routine time in the hospital had been overshadowed by a strange feeling of impending danger. He’d had time to think, time to eat, sleep and exercise under the watch of his caretakers. It wasn’t them he was cautious of, moreover he couldn’t perceive anything threatening beyond a general impression. As a result he had begun to indulge in a little contingency planning, to ensure his own safety. It consisted of mostly innocent deceptions, a few utensils pickpocketed by him and extra time spent walking around the courtyard with Krystal to gain a sense of the building's layout.
He’d had a lot of misgivings keeping his suspicions from her, but he couldn’t risk it. Maybe it really was just a symptom of whatever trauma that caused him to lose his memory. He knew better, something was wrong and he was on borrowed time that was rapidly running out. Alex wasn’t sure what to expect or what form the threat would take, but when Meesha entered his room flanked by the armed men in purple armor, and said “Alex these men are soldiers here to take you back home safely,” he knew it was an instant lie, a potentially lethal one.
There were a total of eight men that had come to escort him, all heavily armed with oversized rifles that looked capable of atomizing him with a casual trigger pull. He played dumb and innocent going along with the act, letting one of them lead him, his armored hand gripping his shoulder, his other hand no doubt close to his side arm. Alex pretended not to notice their tense demeanor, moving sedately through the empty hallways of the medical building.
He had inhabited his surroundings long enough to notice the sudden emptiness …the lack of other people.
“Where the hell was everyone?”
He knew then and there he and Meesha were in deep shit, and whatever these men had planned for them there would be no witnesses. They had led him into some kind of recovery room; rows of reclining beds each with retractable privacy curtains. He still had the shiv hidden in his left pajama sleeve as well as the fork end in his waistband, but he was still hopelessly outgunned and Meesha was between them. He played the long game and took his chance when Meesha attached his I.V. She had then moved to the terminal that displayed his vitals and was connected to the sedative dispenser.
Four of the eight soldiers had walked out of the room while the remaining stayed, their attention temporarily on the healer while she prepared to sedate him, their first tactical mistake. Alex began scratching his right bicep, pressing his left wrist against his right arm using the back and forth motion to draw the blade out past the sleeve. He had then made a show of adjusting his pants sliding the fork tine into his palm before using it to pinch the I.V. shut then swiping the shiv across the tube. It was a swift sleight of hand that only took a few seconds to perform before the armored men turned back to face him.
Meesha had tapped a few keys, and there was a hum as the sedative was dispensed. For his part, Alex had closed his eyes and began to slow his breathing. Despite the situation he did his best to calm his nerves, and wind down his heart beat. He could feel the sedative wetting his arm, it was slowly pooling and spreading across the mattress.
He felt it begin to trickle down his pant leg when he heard Meesha say, “It’s done, he’s unconscious.”
He had slowly opened his eyelids just enough to see them. The remaining four were in the room, two at the door, two flanking Meesha who stood up from her station.
“Have her wait outside,” the voice came from one of the men closer to Alex.
The healer was grabbed roughly by the arm and led into the hallway.
“What are you going to do with my patient,” Meesha dared to ask.
Alex heard her grunt in pain as she was shoved hard in the back, then she disappeared behind the doorway.
Alex didn’t react, he just laid still. The armored men simply watched him. Awake or asleep they had every opportunity to kill him. He half expected one of them to raise their gun and shoot him, but they just stood watching. Beyond the walls, he could hear the metallic thudding sound of multiple footsteps. It sounded like the group of four that had previously exited the room were proceeding to his left towards the elevator to the courtyard; now that he was perceived as dormant they were patrolling the rest of the facility. His attention was brought back to the door, two of the remaining four men were pushing some kind of cylindrical pod towards him. The pair kept pushing until it was parallel to the left side of his bed.
“Sir we have another arrival that entered the front entrance hangar,” one of them said, the voice distorted by their helmet speakers.
“The Tarkanian woman?” another voice said.
Alex felt his blood run cold at the mention of Krystal’s last name, but he still didn’t dare to move.
“Yes, I sent a couple men to the courtyard.”
“Have them take her, if she has any records of the subject on her. I want them disposed of … once he’s loaded into the stasis pod and we’re airborne we’ll waste both of the Cerinians, boss wants no loose ends”
“Affirmative, you two keep watch in the hallway, while we transfer him to the pod,” the other man said, gesturing to two of his companions. They unslung their rifles and marched out of the room.
Alex felt his hand tighten around the knife, as one of them moved to his bedside. There was a sharp hiss and a warm breeze across his face. He could now see that the glass pod was open and that one of the armored men was leaning over him. Alex felt the sensation of the man’s gloved hands working their way under his body to lift him up. If he allowed himself to be locked inside the pod, he along with Meesha and Krystal were dead.
Alex made his move. His eyes opened wide and he could see up close the armored man’s facial features behind the dark tinted visor alight with shock and wide-eyed surprise.
“No fucking way.”
Those were the last words he ever said before Alex drove the makeshift knife through the black mesh that covered the man’s neck. There was a sickening ripping sound along with a wheezing gurgling that emitted from his helmet speakers. Alex’s eyes flicked to the exit where another one of the armed men was leaning against the doorway. His eyes were widened in shock as he brought his gun up, but at that point Alex was using his free hand to push the first man in the line of fire. He reached down for the dying man’s sidearm just as the rifle began to spit blaster bolts.
The soldier fired a quick succession of projectiles, but the majority impacted the armored body covering Alex. His living shield jerked and bucked as he was shot repeatedly, his back plates burning away rapidly. Alex’s right hand closed around the butt of the pistol and he pulled it free from its holster. He aimed and squeezed the trigger twice vaporizing the door control panel. Immediately the vertical sliding door slammed shut, trapping them inside. Alex shifted his aim and fired again and the bolt caught his assailant just above his collar bone, burning a neat hole in the unarmored mesh. The soldier kept up the volley but the sudden shock of pain caused him to sway his firearm uncontrollably. Alex kept his composure, held his aim for a count of two and nailed him in the face. He crumpled to the floor, his helmet visor smoking, while his gun emptied itself into the ceiling in one long drumroll.
Alex kept his gun aimed at the dead man, eyes scanning the space for any signs of more threats. No one else living, but he began to hear the impact of gun fire. The soldiers he had blocked off were attempting to burn away the thick steal. He tried to gauge the integrity of the door, and estimated he had at least a few minutes to find an alternative exit. He had just begun to glance at the outside window to his left when a bloodied gloved hand clamped around his throat. He felt himself being lifted high into the air until his feet dangled a foot off the floor.
He looked down into the visored face of the soldier he had just stabbed. There was smoke emanating from his back, where he had been shot, and Alex could faintly smell the sweet acrid scent of burnt flesh and metal. The makeshift knife was still sticking out of his neck, the wound was still leaking blood. He was dying but not dying fast enough. Alex fired from the hip three times into the soldier’s stomach. He roared in pain and slammed Alex into the glass canopy of the stasis pod. The reinforced aperture cracked diagonally under the impact, and Alex’s head smacked against the metal frame, but he kept a firm grip on the gun, his other hand inside the choke hold.
There was a muffled boom, and the lights dimmed for a split second. The soldier glanced at the shut door. Alex had no doubt that his attackers had brought some kind of breaching tool into play; more than likely heavy gauge artillery. He took full advantage of the distraction, closing his left hand around the soldier’s thumb and yanked it downward until it broke.
“CRACK”
The hand around his throat sprang open and Alex swung his gun arm around for a fatal head shot. The armored man leaned sideways and reached getting both hands around Alex’s wrists a split second before the gun went off. Plasma streaked out of the weapon narrowly missing his shoulder and burning a hole into the bed mattress behind them. At once the sheets began to catch fire, flames rapidly climbing up and down the fabric. Alex was heaved upward again and brought down hard against the glass of the stasis pod, but he was ready and folded his body inward to take some momentum out of the blow, but it was still a tremendous impact. He kept his grip on the pistol trying to aim it at his foe's head, all the while he could hear that haunting buzzing wheezing coming from the other man’s helmet as he struggled to breathe.
There was another loud blast from outside the room, and a ceiling light was rattled out of its housing and shattered to the floor. The pistol’s barrel turned inch by agonizing inch until it was pointed squarely between the dying man’s eyes. Alex pulled the trigger, burning a quarter-sized hole out the man’s head. His body went instantly limp and crashed to the floor in a smoking bloody heap. A third blast rocked the room and caused Alex to fall backwards behind the stasis pod. He didn’t stand up, instead opting to lay prone peaking around the cover of the pod. There was an orange glowing gash at the center of the steel door, like a crooked grin that exhaled a steady stream of smoke.
He was going to have company very soon. Alex scrambled around the pod and reached for the dead man’s rifle, only to find it firmly pinned under his bulk. He’d have to heft upwards of two-hundred pounds to retrieve the weapon.
“Fuck it.”
Alex reached for the nylon grenade belt around the soldier’s waist, using his thumb and forefinger to hit the release button. The belt came free from his waist with a hard yank, and he pulled one of the grenades from the belt while tossing the rest behind the pod. His brow furrowed in frustration when he read the label on the device. He’d hope for a fragmentation grenade, but the label read [Concussion Grenade]. It wouldn’t do much against a man in full body armor and an enclosed helmet, but it would serve as the distraction he needed.
He laid as flat as he could on the ground, it wouldn’t be long now. The door to the recovery room blew wide open, a column of flame and smoke erupting from the explosion. An intense heat wave caused the beds to his right to burst into flames. The man he had previously killed and left slumped against the door was flung across the room. His bulk hit the wall above one of the beds, he then rolled back down onto the flaming mattress legs sticking in the air above the headrest.
Alex thumbed the arming switch on the grenade, but didn’t throw it just yet; he knew what was coming next. The other two soldiers didn’t wait for the smoke to clear, they began to unload a hailstorm of red plasma for their rifles. They had completely abandoned the pretense of capturing him and were firing blindly, the automatic weapons shredding and vaporizing the assortment of beds and furniture in the space. Random smoking black dots spontaneously appeared on the floor and climbed up the walls and ceiling. He could feel the heat rising in the room, but the smoke was well above his head.
A stray shot struck the glass canopy of the stasis pod shattering it and spraying shiny pebbles everywhere. Eventually the shooting stopped all together, leaving only the sharp crackling of flames and the pop and hiss of broken circuitry. Alex looked at the fragments of glass to his right and waited. The little pieces began to dance and jump, the heavy booted footsteps of the soldiers causing the mini seismic disturbance.
Alex released the arming switch and threw the grenade hard against the wall ahead of him. It bounced off the wall diagonally with a sharp metallic ping and spun off to his right. The can-sized explosive rolled past the boot of one of the soldiers before it detonated. There was a loud bang and a white flash. He heard the two men cry out in shock, and he burst out of cover firing, not bothering to aim; the smoke and flicking flames had drastically reduced the visibility of his targets. He could still see the vague shapes of the pair as they turned their large barrelled guns towards him, it was like staring down two naval cannons protruding from morning fog.
Alex turned his charge into a sideways somersault. The dazed soldiers opened up with a barrage of superheated projectiles vaporizing the remaining hospital beds. Alex came back up on his feet between his two attackers and kicked out at the right one’s forward knee, targeting the inside of the joint, causing the leg to fold. He went down hard, his limb’s flailing, rifle firing into the ceiling. The man to his left spun around bringing his gun in line to fire. Alex closed the distance in a single stride grabbing the barrel with one hand and pulling him towards him while smashing an elbow into the side of his helmet. His grip on the rifle loosened and Alex stripped it from his hands. It was still slung securely across his body, but Alex managed to maneuver the weapon until it was aimed at the man he had just knocked to the floor. He was still flat on his back, but was raising his rifle to fire.
Alex came on target first. He squeezed the trigger and the prone man’s armor was turned into a smoked cratered mess. He turned the gun back around to finish off the fourth man. His gloved hands intercepted the barrel, turning it towards the floor, he was fixing to blow Alex’s legs away. The gun went off the bolt striking the floor, missing his left foot, but he felt sparks nipping his ankle. Alex pivoted and slammed the soldier hard against the wall managing to lift the barrel of the gun away from himself. He heaved and wrenched the gun until the business end was aimed at the man’s stomach. His finger had grazed the trigger, when there was a click and a sharp hiss and a stream of steam shot out the side of the rifle and he heard something “clack” to the floor.
He glanced down to see that the rifle's power cell had been ejected from the receiver. In his peripheral vision he saw the man’s free hand twitch and a glint of something long and shiny. Alex sidestepped and turned his head away, but the six inch unsheathed knife scored a long gash above his left brow. His knife hand shot out again, and Alex knocked it aside. He countered with a straight jab that dented the soldier's helmet near his chin.
His head snapped back and the knife swung around in a wild arc. Alex ducked and spun past the blade. They had switched places, now it was Alex who was against the wall. They were both hunched over panting, and it was due to more than fatigue from the physical struggle. The flames were steadily growing in size and spreading, rapidly siphoning off the oxygen in the room. The fire was self-sustaining now; he had to finish this fight before it over took them both. Half of his vision was a red murky haze that couldn't be blinked away. His opponent’s dark figure contrasted eerily against the background of fire and smoke. He looked like a nightmare figure, a creature holding a big bloodied knife. Alex braced himself. The armored man charged straight for him, the knife in a reverse grip aiming for his belly. He stood his ground and saw it for the clever feint it was.
The soldier was halfway across the room when he switched grip and turned his slash into a stab at his gut. Alex waited until he was close enough and shifted his torso, the blade missing his abdomen by centimeters, imbedding itself in the wall. It would’ve gone straight through him and the wall, most likely pinning him there if he hadn’t missed. With the blade still stuck and his opponent off balance, Alex rolled his body over the knife hand, putting his full body weight on the fingers and wrist. The blade folded flat against the wall and clattered to the floor. Alex continued the pivot, and smashed an elbow against the man’s helmet. He gave the blow everything he had from his toes on up. The impact put a fist sized dent in the side of his helmet and sent him tumbling to the floor. Alex looked for a weapon and spotted the empty rifle on the floor; it must've fallen off during the struggle. He then scooped it up and brought it down hard stock first against the fallen man’s head.
It was a poor blow; the rifle was heavy, high powered, and was equipped with a big rubber stock to protect the user from the weapon’s recoil. Now it protected the soldier from the downward strike. His head merely rocked back an inch before he hunched in a crouch swiping at Alex’s legs with both arms. His back had barely hit the floor when the soldier was upon him. Looking upward he saw the soldier’s fist curl into a metal round bludgeon before it swung down at his head. He slipped the punch, the impact vibrating the floor next to his left ear, he could feel the sharp breeze of the near miss along with a loud crack. Grabbing the outstretched arm, Alex swung his foot up bracing the heel against the soldier’s shoulder joint. He heaved the arm backward while pushing outward with his foot, the sudden opposing force causing the joint to dislocate. The man howled in agony, thrashing like a wild animal. Alex kept his death grip on the arm, letting him expel whatever reserves of strength he had left. Twisting his torso, he rolled sideways and kicked, sending the soldier into the growing inferno.
He was engulfed immediately by the flames, the mesh sections of his suit bubbling away, and black orange burn splotches expanding across the armor's purple paint. Alex wasn’t gonna leave it to chance. His eyes swept across the floor seeking a weapon. He retrieved a rifle off the floor, checking the digital ammo counter making sure the weapon was loaded. Sure enough when he turned back around, the remaining soldier was already on his feet again, staggering forward, half melted fingers pulling his blaster pistol from his holster. Taking a deep steading breath, Alex sighted down the sights at his midsection and squeezed the trigger … sending the bastard to hell.
When it was over Alex crept into the hallway, doing a quick survey to make sure there were no deadly surprises waiting for him. He casted a look over his shoulder at the carnage he had left behind. A few minutes ago it had been a neat orderly space for rest and quiet, now it was a roaring furnace of fire, and rapidly roasting corpses. Alex felt no satisfaction at surviving this ordeal. He was exhausted, and badly shaken up. Blood was still oozing, less profusely above his left eye clouding his vision. A few clumsily swipes with his sleeve cleared his sight. It didn’t make it any better … the horror was more stark now.
“Get a grip, there’ll be more of them.”
He nodded along as though the thought was not his own.
“You need to find Krystal, and Meesha …. get them out safe … they’re in grave danger now.”
That did it … the cold frozen panic was sucked away, leaving in its place a lethal focus.
Walking over to the dead soldier he had left in the hallway, he deftly unbuckled his ammunition harness and fitted it around his dirt and blood-stained pajamas. After he had successfully dawned the extra weight, he did an experimental shrug and rotation of his shoulders to make sure it was securely fastened. It wasn’t much but he was well armed and equipped, he even had the wherewithal to put on shoes before all this started.
There was a sharp hiss as Alex ejected the partially spent power cell of the blaster rifle before he slammed a fresh one into the warm receiver.
“Beep Beep”
Charged and primed.
He was good to go.