Severed Connection_The Beginning

by Roman Shepp

  “You never know.”

  “Ever the optimist, aren't you?” Jane said with a sly smile. Tony shrugged.

  “Someone has to be.” He leaned into the cart and pulled out some more food and water. He took out some dog biscuits and threw them to Groot, who devoured them quickly.

  “How long have you had him?”

  “Not too long. He was my friend's. I found him outside the store when all this happened. He was wounded pretty badly. I didn't get to my friend in time...I've known Groot a long time, though, and he knows me.”

  “Having an animal with us is going to be useful when we get into the forest. We'll probably need to hunt. Leaving the city means it's going to be harder to get food.”

  “Do you think we made the right decision?”

  “I don't think we can start second-guessing ourselves now. I feel safer out here, if that's any consolation.”

  Tony didn't seem to react. “We probably should look around this area as well. I feel so vulnerable all the time, like someone else is watching.”

  “Living like this is going to take some getting used to. I don't think we're the generation who were made to live like this. I used technology for everything.”

  “Me too. Life was so easy with it. I suppose we will need to adapt.”

  They kept talking for about an hour or so when Saeed woke up. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, then moved over to them to get some food. “It's good to see that your appetite is back,” Tony said. Saeed offered a weak smile.

  “I must keep going. I do not feel like eating, but I know I need it. I do not want to be a burden on you two.”

  “Now that you're up we should talk about what we're going to do next. We need to get more supplies. I'm not just talking about food and water either. We need to get things such as blankets and matches, other clothes. Finding a river or something would be good as well. I'd really like to have a bath.”

  “I second that,” Tony said. “We should get moving quickly. Make the most of the daylight. I'd rather not have to encounter the same scenes as last night. We'll try getting to this bunker as quickly as possible and work out where to go from there. There has to be hope for this world. Hopefully, people will have come to their senses when they've calmed down.”

  Jane wasn't so sure that was going to happen, but she didn't voice her disagreement. After eating a paltry breakfast (Jane wondered if she'd ever have a full belly again) they gathered up their things and made their way out. They peered through the building windows as they walked through the suburbs. Jane saw people looking back out at them. They were scared and probably saw the three of them as potential threats. Perhaps it was the right way of going about things. The only way to be safe. Jane could feel their eyes on her. She tried ignoring them. With every step they moved farther away from the city. Sometimes there was a faint odor in the air, and she wondered if that meant another dead body had fallen to the ground.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Quentin sat in the middle of the convention hall. The flames licked the area around him. His throat was raw and scratchy. His eyes watered from the smoke, and the sadness. The love of his life was dead. The only person who had managed to help him keep a hold on his sanity had been taken from the world and her body was given to the flames. It was as though a great pyre had been erected only for her, and for him.

  Quentin sat among the debris. Banners had caught fire and all around him he could see nothing but an ominous orange glow. The air was thick with the scent of burned flesh. He could almost taste the death. It was a sensation that was all too familiar for him. A sensation that had surrounded him years ago in another scorching inferno where he had lost so many brothers in arms. He should have died that day. Something went wrong with the universe and caused him to survive, but he should have been taken. There had been nothing left for him to return home to. In some ways there hadn't been anything left of him. So much of himself had been left behind in that country, so far from home. If he had died, then life would have been so much easier. Carol probably still would be alive. She wouldn't have been burdened by him.

  No. That wasn't true. He wasn't a burden. Quentin and Carol had loved each other. She had chosen him, even though she knew he suffered. She was the only good person left in this world, and now she was taken from him, all because of these people. Their panicking had caused the entire hall to erupt in flames. Their petty squabbling had let the flames spread. Their fighting had caused Carol's death. He could stay and die with her, let the flames consume him. However, that kernel of Lt. Beck that had been forged by the army told him to keep fighting. Fight until you could fight no more. That's what Quentin had been doing for as long as he could remember. The man he had been before the army was nothing but a distant memory, almost a dream. He had been forged into a weapon, and weapons could not die.

  Pushing himself up, Quentin ignored the heat and the pain of his mottled flesh. Sweat tricked all over his face, but it was as though he was in a trance. He took one last look down at Carol's body as the flesh turned black and then walked away from her. Every day was a fight for Quentin to keep the animal within him at bay. Carol had helped with that. Carol was dead.

  The flames seemed to spill over the floor. They had taken on a life of their own. Quentin still was standing. Reborn in fire and ash. It was as though the vulnerable, doubting parts of him were stripped away. He was being left a pure entity of destruction and death. When he closed his eyes, his thoughts turned to the past, when he was surrounded by gunfire and marched into battle. That was his destiny. He shouldn't have been so naive to think there was any other path for him. Once he had taken that first step all those years ago it was the end for him. He should have realized it before then.

  Nothing else mattered to Quentin now. He strode forward menacingly. His long legs stepped over obstacles. His feet cracked over fallen merchandise. The smell of burning plastic came to him as well. All the toys and costumes were being taken away. Elsewhere in the hall were cries of pain. People were trapped. Soon they too would be dead. Quentin kept walking. If a flame caught his cloak, he batted it away instantly. The pain in his face would have been enough to fell any man, but Quentin was no ordinary soul. He was a spirit of vengeance now.

  Through the flickering flames he could see blurred forms rushing around, and when he drew closer he could hear them calling for help. The fools were trying to save those who could not be saved. It would prove to be their doom. Quentin clenched his fists as he made his way toward the door. This never would have happened if they had not started fighting. Carol still would have been alive. He already had dealt with Harry. Now the rest of them needed to pay.

  “There's someone coming out. Oh my God, he's alive!” a voice called out toward him.

  Quentin snarled as he walked toward the voices. They ran to him, asking him if he was alright. There was that man, the bloated ego of Dominic Lillie. He'd tried calming people, but they hadn't listened to him. He should have tried harder. In the show he was an honorable man, but in real life he was just another person who was responsible for Carol's death.

  “Let's get him some help!” another voice called out.

  They came up to Quentin as he emerged from the flames. He watched as they recoiled upon seeing his burnt face. Quentin always had been a monster and now people were looking at him as he always had looked at himself. Two people came up to him offering aid, but he was done with them. What use was aid now? It was too late. Carol was dead. They should have acted more quickly so they could have saved her. He wasn't worthy of being saved. He pushed them away abruptly, so abruptly they weren't expecting it and fell to the floor. They reacted with shock. Dominic came up to him.

  “What was that for? We're only trying to help you.”

  “You should have helped her,” Quentin growled, and lunged forward.

  His hands curled around the actor's throat and squeezed hard. Dominic thrashed out with his arms and legs to try breaking free, but Quentin's grip was too tight. Quentin's eyes widen
ed as he tensed his arms and used all his strength to subdue the actor. Those who had been with Dominic rushed up to try pulling Quentin's arms away, but the man showed inhuman strength and managed to fight them off. Dominic gurgled. His skin turned a dark shade of purple and then suddenly the thrashing stopped. He slumped to the floor and screams of horror rang out.

  The other two people who had been pushed aside by Quentin looked hesitant for a moment. Quentin wasn't. He swiped at one and this caused both to run away. Quentin wasn't finished. He'd had enough of the world. Enough of all the happy people. Why should they have everything that Quentin couldn't have? He'd given so much in defense of them and their country, and all he had back was ignorance. They hadn't cared about him when he returned. Only Carol had, and now she was dead. She had paid the price for him, but he was going to see it repaid, with interest.

  If the world wanted him to be a monster, then a monster he would be. Just before he stepped out into the fresh air, away from the searing heat of the fire that licked his back, he looked down and saw a mask lying on the floor, covered in debris. It would cover both eyes and the burnt side of Quentin's face. The mask was sculpted in a way that flowed to sharp points. He could escape himself and let another part of him be free again. Just like before, when he had worn his army uniform. He picked up the mask and placed it over his face. Pain shot through his face as he pressed the mask against his wounded cheek. But it was done. He was something else now. Something more than Quentin Beck.

  The air was cool outside, and people were crying in havoc as they heard of the madman. Some people still were running into the building, crying for loved ones. There was no use for tears anymore. Not for Quentin. Tears didn't do any good. Only blood would do. People were pointing toward him, fear etched on their faces. He was as monstrous to them as the flames were and that was as it should be. Quentin had been made into a monster a long time ago. He had been taught how to kill without mercy. How to take a life without regret. Then he was expected to be shipped back home to live an ordinary life. Nobody was there to teach him how to be a normal person, how to hold down a job, how to still the voices and screams inside his head. He walked across the field, the grass sinking beneath his feet. People still were loath to leave the grounds of the hall, yelling and screaming for help. The only help was death. It was a release from the pain and the anguish. Quentin would give them that gift.

  Some men were emboldened by their costumes and thought they were those heroes. They ran to fight Quentin, but even when there were three of them at a time Quentin emerged triumphant. He knew how to use every part of his body as a deadly weapon, knew exactly where to strike to ensure he caused the maximum amount of damage. He knew how to incapacitate a man in seconds. It was done silently, easily, almost without effort. Quentin felt bones crack against his skin and the warm trickle of blood over his knuckles. Flesh sagged as people collapsed to the ground and they quickly realized it was a fight they were not going to win.

  “The man has gone crazy!” they shouted as they tried to flee.

  Quentin saw no need to run. There were many people around, almost too many for him to choose. Some fled toward the forest, others down the long road that led to the city. They stumbled as they ran, always looking over their shoulder. There was to be no looking back for Quentin. The only way was forward. He would walk this path until its inevitable end.

  The fire roared behind him. An explosion of glass boomed as smoke and flames billowed out the side of the building. Everyone around him was staring in helpless awe at this force of nature. None of them knew Quentin. It was as though he had come from the fire itself. They didn't see the man under the mask. They only saw the monster, and he knew that was how it needed to be.

  “You can't stop us from going in there!” someone called out as they ran up to Quentin, seeking to attack him.

  With the only weapons being his fists Quentin knew he was going to be victorious. The man managed to land a blow, but it didn't hurt Quentin at all. The man went to strike him again, but Quentin caught his fist and pulled it back. The man's eyes widened in terror as he struggled against Quentin's brute force, but it was no use. With his other fist Quentin struck the man in the throat. He staggered backward, struggling to breathe. Other fools still were trying to get into the flames, trying to save people who couldn't be saved. People who were already dead. They could run if they wanted to. It was only their own downfall. If they wanted to punish themselves, then all the better, but Quentin still had work to do. He walked over to some people sitting around the wounded. He towered over them.

  “What do you want? Don't hurt us, please,” they pleaded. “We're only trying to help our friend.”

  They had helped enough. Quentin kicked them and then grabbed their heads, cracking them together. He wasn't going to hurt those already wounded. They had suffered enough. They could lie in peace and wait for death to claim them. The only mercy for Carol was that death had been swift. Although that also meant Quentin hadn't been able to give her a proper goodbye. They never would see each other again. Quentin wasn't sure if there were such things as heaven and hell. But if they did exist, then he and Carol would be going to different places. There was no place for him among the good.

  Hundreds of people were splitting apart, running in different directions. Some were running from Quentin, others from the burning building. Others were just running because there was nothing else to do. Quentin walked slowly, never increasing his pace. He gazed out toward the city and noticed the skyscrapers were dark. There was an amber glow, as though a large fire burned. Maybe this was the night where everything changed, where everything ended. If that were true, then the new world would be reshaped in his image. One person ran past him and he hauled them back by the scruff of their neck. He stomped on their chest as they hit the ground. They all started blurring into one. They were greedy, petty people who placed their own desires ahead of everyone else.

  For a long time, he had lost himself in a fictional world, but now the illusion had been firmly dispelled. He never fully could escape the reality of his life and he had been a fool for thinking he could do so. He had been in denial, but now the raw truth was staring him in the face. Everything else had been burned away. Everything false was no longer of concern for him. He was a warrior, a soldier, and now he had a war to fight. A war against those who had cost him what he held most dear. A war against happiness.

  As he strode through the field, which now resembled a battlefield, Quentin targeted those who were cowering together. He showed no mercy because they didn't deserve it. He watched them all flee into the forest, all the while knowing he would catch up with them soon enough. He was death's messenger on this Earth and he would not stop until it was his time. Quentin used his brute strength to attack all those who were near him. He tore at limbs and left broken bodies lying on the ground. Madness reigned in his mind, but to him it made complete sense. He tried not to think of Carol, though... somehow, he knew she wouldn't understand. That didn't matter, though. In time she would. These people had to die.

  He looked toward the city and thought about heading in that direction. However, from the amber glow it seemed as though there already was enough death there. No, he had to be concerned with the people who were responsible for Carol's death. Once they had met justice, then he could move on and cut a swathe of destruction across the city. There was nobody he needed to answer to. His mission went beyond that of mortal men. Somehow, he expected there to be sirens wailing on their way from the city, but there was nothing. Only silence and darkness. Maybe that was for the best. It seemed as though he was free.

  He did not look back as the fire engulfed the building. The flames burned across the walls and a dark cloud of smoke billowed into the sky, blotting out everything else in a gray miasma. The building collapsed in on itself, the roof crushing the people and bodies left inside. The quiet screams could be heard among the roaring flames. Eventually, the fire would burn itself out. Some of the flames remained, though, stifle
d suffocated by the huge concrete slabs that had fallen in on themselves.

  Quentin's heart burned more fiercely than anything else, though He reached the edge of the forest and walked through the foliage. He could hear screams of terror echo around him, cries of warning about the man in the mask. Yes, he was something more than Quentin Beck now. He could do more now than he ever could have done before in life. Disappearing among the trees, following the cries of these people, the weapon grew ready to strike.

  Find out what happens in part two here: https://amzn.to/2INmzmF

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