Awakening from my stupor, I realize it’s almost completely covering me now. I fire my pistols instinctively; the hits are clean, through the chest. It still wriggles ferociously and crushes into me hard. It’s still fighting! Its furious arms whirl wildly at me, a massive body overwhelming me now, smashing my crouched body to the stiff ground.
It grips my throat, but my pistols are already going off again into its heavy torso. “Aghhhh!” It yells in a new voice, a man’s voice, shrieking in pain.
I roll the two hundred and something pound thing—or man, over. He’s still and quiet now, the raging terror gone from the both of us. The remains already appear rocklike, as if he’s been here, lying like this for days. I kick the side of his ribs and check for a pulse. He’s gone.
Glancing around, I search for the missing Saevas. There’s no movement in the heavy, dusk-filled woods. Strange enough, there’s no sounds, no wind through the trees, no animals, birds or insects chirping or scurrying through the grasses.
I feel the urge to study the Saevas closely, to see what he is. Slowly, I grip the bottom of the decrepit mask, peeling it away from his murky, unresponsive face. The image is startling, but not in the way I expected.
He’s just a man.
But he’s large and so well fed. They don’t attack often enough to obtain a sufficient amount of sustenance to be this big. He’s obviously eating more than an enough somewhere, but where does his food come from?
This tells me that there is a way to sustain life outside our City walls. What are you eating? I think, almost out loud. I holster my pistols, turn and sprint again through the woods, dusk is falling, I can see it spreading over the tops of the periodically open trees, scarce as that may be in this thick spider-like forest.
The trees are lurking, hovering, almost gawking at me. Reminding me that I’m not supposed to be here.
After adventuring through the threatening trees and leaping over logs for too long, I stop and listen again. With a quick guess at time, I know I need to get back. I should reconnect and relay what I’ve seen and done, to the others. But would they care? I’m starting to think everyone likes the way things are, aside from me and the people in the pagos.
The Council and Saros get what they need from the people, year after year, day after day. Ursa comes through when needed. Saevas barely put up a fight without real weapons. I would think the Council was sending in these idiots to keep everything in order, if it weren’t for the fact that they get slaughtered every time. What kind of fool would voluntarily die? You think they would learn to leave the pagos and fields alone.
The Saevas have to be living somewhere. Are they close by? A strong urge to continue exploring the forest hits me hard, to leave my father, Apollo, and the City, to hunt down every last animalistic being that I come across. December would miss me, and she would never learn why I had left, or why Maryn left.
My Father would most likely be investigated by the Council. Both children missing?
Sadness sweeps over me as I analyze the darkness, growing gloomier still. Maryn, Where did you go?
I wonder how much he went through fighting Saevas and saving these people repeatedly. Maybe he tried to find a solution just as I have been searching for one. He was Ursa for over three years; that’s a long time. I’ve already fought twice and it hasn’t even been three months.
Maryn had a perfection. He’s smart; he’s still alive. He has to be. The thought to call for him crosses my mind, but I remember Apollo mentioning the mountains and I realize this is wishful thinking, to hope for him here. Not to mention completely stupid. He probably never even came this way.
The sky is completely black and I decide to get back to the aircraft. I turn around and run as quickly as I did on the way in, pouncing over the naturally fallen obstacles, avoiding the forgotten vegetation with my zig-zag pattern.
My form fitting plate carrier begins to glow from the center now, equipped with a light for just an occasion; the beam illuminates the way as night falls over me completely. The forest is so dark I can barely see anything other than what lies straight in front of me, the shadowy murkiness is terrifying. My pace grows swifter, not from fear of the dark, but from the sound beginning to roar from above the trees.
It’s the hover-crafts. They are leaving me!
Tension boils inside of me, but suddenly my eagerness to reach the end of the forest is swept away and replaced with terror.
I’m falling.
The ground gives out from beneath me and I start to drop for what feels like an eternity. Smashing through leaves and sticks, I finally hit the bottom with a loud thud! Pain spreads throughout my body.
The light glaring from my chest brightens the dirt walls of the hole and glimmers and dies in the tops of the trees. I can barely make out the world above me but nothing is visible, nothing. And then I close my eyes, giving up, for now.
15
Teenage Maryn looks at me and smiles. We are alone at an Ignis Impetus match for our first time, without father. “They have to get their whole bodies through the goal, not just the ball,” he says. “This is amazing!” I say. “I know,” he says, “I want to try out next year, but I need Father’s permission before I’m nineteen. But he says I need to focus on my studies.”
“I would try out if I could, too,” I say, and Maryn laughs. “I bet you’d beat Praedo for sure, but not Imperium. No one can,” he chuckles in pure happiness.
“Freya, listen to that, Apollo is announced first! He’s the best Reaper in Messorum history,” Maryn shouts over the crowd. I watch intensely and goosebumps crawl across my skin from the music and noise. Then the noise startles me awake.
There’s something up there, hideous and looking down at me. I remember I’m trapped in the giant, man-made pit; it may be impossible to climb out.
Pulling my pistol from my hip, I aim it directly at the silhouette of its head. The face, like all the others, is insultingly hideous. I don’t shoot, not yet. I lean up onto one hand swiftly, adjusting myself into a backward crab position before coming to a rest in a comfortable squat. I have both guns aimed at the revolting face now. It seems unafraid of me; unaware of what these metal things are that I’m pointing at him.
It…..or he… pulls an enormous blade from a hidden space inside its layered clothing. He twirls the knife around on his finger tip, taunting me, completely oblivious to the fact that I could end his life, but maybe he knows I need his help to get out of this pit of death. His giant dreadlocks hang in all directions, and he grins with his disgusting teeth covered in some sort of multi-colored casings.
He carefully lifts the dirty mask from his head and reveals his human face. With this, his smile grows wide and more disgusting, if that’s possible.
“Still ugly,” I holler.
Either he doesn’t understand me, or he hides his reaction well. His expression remains unaffected. He’s eyeing me like a piece of meat, toying with me with his eyes. “Can you understand me?” I ask plainly, studying his face again for any change. The animalistic expression remains the same, foaming with the worst intentions. And then he disappears.
Hours pass and none of my communication devices are working. I swear out loud at no one, and then sit back down. I should have killed it, but then I’d be stuck in this hole forever. I start weighing my options. If I kill it, then I just die of dehydration in this hole, but if I let it get me out of this hole…my death could be a lot worse...but I’d have a chance to get away.
Rubbing my cheek, I slowly massage the tense muscles in my jaw. My head is throbbing in pain, and when I touch the back of my hair to find the source, my hand comes back covered in blood.
My injuries might be worse than expected. Suddenly, I hear something. I look up to see a dirty net sprawl out across the sky, dimly lit by the beam still illuminating from my aramid vest. The net feels heavy and covers my body effortlessly and is pulled tight, tripping me in one fluid motion. The ground attacks me hard, and I cry out in pain. My fast reflexes are u
seless since I never made a decision.
I guess I have.
I’m being lifted out of the hole violently; my head knocks against the rocks and the hard roots that protrude from the muddy wall. Desperately trying to protect myself against the rigid dirt, I get thrashed around wildly. My arms are now pulled too tight for me to defend against my assailant. My vision starts to fade again by the time I’m heaved over the top. Lifting my head, I can see my arms are caked in blood and dirt.
The net tightens as I struggle to get my gun out of the holster. I manage to get it into my hand again, but I don’t want to fire blindly. I’d miss, and then the Saevas would realize what it is. I wait, flirting with death, until I’m thrown over his massive back. Turning my head; all I see is darkness.
We walk for a while, the gun smashed against his body. I finally free it slowly from my holster and force it forward, even with absolutely no space between us. The Saevas gets angry from the pain of having a pistol jammed in his back, but I have enough time to pull the trigger and hold it down; the bullets don’t stop.
The shots antagonize my eardrum, but the beast immediately writhes from the pain. He throws me to the side, and I crash to the ground again, somehow it feels even harder than before. I can’t see him. He’s on the ground somewhere in the darkness. The light from my vest still lights up the trees, making them appear as monsters, as I try my best to roll forward.
The Saevas stands up searching for me, finally noticing the light. Damn light! He pulls his massive knife out and lunges for me, I roll over to avoid having it plunged through my chest, feeling something hard pang my side under my hip. The gun! I manage to get it into my hands, even while still being encased inside the net.
The net has untightened enough for me to have more maneuverability, and I manage to get the pistol aimed at him for the last time as he hurls toward me. His silhouette is a layered ball of revolting ferocity, coming for me in the moonlight. I shoot him repeatedly with the pistol from my hip, unable to bring it forward any further.
He stumbles and connects with my body, slamming me flat into the dirt. I’m terrified. This is it.
But he doesn’t move.
It takes every ounce of strength I can muster to get the gigantic man off of me, which is extremely difficult with my arms still plastered down inside this dirty net. I manage to rub the netting along the Saevas’s knife, sticking out from his side, and cut myself free, grateful it didn’t plummet inside my chest when he fell.
A distant crunching noise echoes from all sides, possibly footsteps. Turning my light out, I maneuver into a nearby, easily-climbable tree. I’m in excruciating pain, but I manage to get myself positioned well enough to get a good aim should anything else come after me.
The forest is so dark my eyes still won’t adjust, but after about a minute, the moon and stars peeking through the tiny openings at the top of the plotting trees allow me to make out the figures of shrubs and fallen logs in the darkness down below.
Obvious silhouettes of more Saevas emerge from the foliage, and I double check to ensure my light doesn’t get me caught again. I count six of them, but there could be more nearby. My breathing slows as I focus on inhaling and exhaling through my nose, staying as silent as possible. They examine the lifeless body, speak in a language I don’t understand and take off in the direction of the massive hole.
I check my side for another magazine, but realize my extras are missing. For a moment I feel real fear. I check the 40 round magazines I do have. The pistol I used to kill the pit-Saevas has two bullets left, but luckily the pistol that didn’t leave the holster has 25 rounds left. I must have dropped the extra magazines.
I formulate the only obvious plan. Make every shot count and run out of here as fast as I can.
I wonder if this is where they live? In this forest. If I could make it back to the City, I could bring cases and cases of ammunition and hunt down every last one. The pagos could be free of Saevas forever. Motivated by this thought, I drop to the ground. Dizziness consumes me, causing me to stagger. I hope I don’t lose too much blood.
My injuries are bad but I can’t examine them thoroughly in the darkness. The adrenaline is enough for me to push through the pain and start jogging in the direction of the pit. I run along fallen trees and branches. It’s noisier, but at least I won’t be falling into anymore traps.
Distant noises of crunching leaves and male voices echo behind me, but I continue moving as swiftly as my feet can carry me. I can promptly shoot and kill anything that gets near me, so the sounds do little to deter me from getting out of here.
The footsteps continue to sneak up on me and a hasty glance over my shoulder confirms there is a Saevas about three feet behind me. I’ve been moving too slowly trying to avoid the hidden pits. The noises seem endless, and it’s getting harder to recognize the direction they’re coming from. Extracting my weapon from my hip in one fluid motion, I turn and leap sideways into the air to land on a nearby log, firing a clean shot through the Saevas.
The speed at which I am able to think is astounding. It’s only a matter of seconds, but I am able to calculate an entire scenario in my head, determining the best sequence of action. See then be.
I keep moving. Every time I fire my weapon, I give my position away.
Now that I’m mindful of the way Saevas trap, the pits are ridiculously easy to spot. I pick up the biggest log I can manage and drop it inside the outline of another obvious hole. It hits the bottom with an overly-loud boom.
I run.
What do they even trap out here? Animals… People?
After what feels like another lifetime, the trees come to an end up ahead. The familiar horizon of the fields of wheat is ignited brightly by the moonlight, calling to me in comfort. Running out of the encasing of foliage and into the open feels amazing, but I immediately realize I lack cover and crouch down to analyze my surroundings. Everything is silent. There’s nothing lurking nearby. I’m completely alone.
My bracelet illuminates a brilliant blue signifying service. Finally. Who’s on watch? I think it was Brock. Typing in his code, he displays on my forearm. “Freya?!” he asks in disbelief. Where the hell are you?”
“Where you idiots left me!” I shout back, my voice cracks as a stinging pain blows through my ribs. “Roman said you went AWOL, he watched you run into unknown territory.” “I went after the Saevas. Follow me next time!”
A serious expression suddenly falls over him. “You got messed up pretty bad,” he says, studying me. “Yeah, I fell in a hole, and almost got eaten by a Saevas,” I mumble, only half joking. A light-headed feeling encircles me since he brought attention to my injuries. “A hole?” he questions. “A pit, a trap, whatever…and this isn’t—
All my blood,” I say.
“I’m typing in your coordinates now. The on-call guys will be there to get you. Lie down or something,” he says. “That sounds great,” I say, and cradle myself as I gently drop to a knee before collapsing to the ground.
“Freya!” Brock shouts. “Yeah?” I croak. “Just making sure you’re still okay,” he answers. “Still here… thanks,” I say before closing my eyes again.
16
The viewing screen blares loudly inside the infirmary. I don’t remember when or how I got here. No one has told me how long I’ve been here, either. I hear my name. They are discussing me on City Bulletin.
“We are all aware that Ursa deals with so much, keeping us safe from the anarchist humans that lurk outside these walls,” Paris Styles says. I laugh.
“Oh shut up,” I say out loud.
“There is very good reason that wall is there, and it’s frightening to witness one of our own come back looking like that,” reports Andromeda.
Then a 3D hologram of my sleeping, bloodied body materializes before the broadcast. It’s a feed from inside the hover-craft, from the trip back. I looked terrible, even worse than I felt. There is bruising and blood everywhere. A large gash is exposed, extending across my ear an
d cheek, on display for the entire City. Great.
Reaching up, I feel for the wound that is now stitched tightly closed. They’ll force me into surgery to repair my face, or maybe it’ll get me out of broadcasting altogether.
“So many people are being turned away as they attempt to visit Freya,” Andi broadcasts. “Yes, we are told that you may leave gifts, but unfortunately only family members are allowed inside the infirmary at this time,” Paris says in a motherly tone.
My Father walks in just as I tell the viewing screen to turn “off.” “Freya, you’re awake,” he announces. “Yeah…how long have I been here?”
“Three days. The City is celebrating now that you are awake and the staff has confirmed that you’re going to be okay. You’re a hero. Archer Perkins revealed that you are receiving the Arcadius Award,” he says. He’s beaming with pride.
“What?”
“Yes, they want to meet with you as soon as you are back to normal, to discuss when they’ll give you the award.
Freya—
I’ve never been so proud,” he states, actually looking happy.
I don’t know what to say. The pain is terrible, but that’s not why tears well in my eyes. I don’t care that my Father is proud of me. He only cares about how the Council views him, his reputation, carrying on as before like he never lost a son! Distorting my face, I fight back the tears. I’m so angry.
“Freya, are you okay?”
“No,” I say like he should know, and try hard not to cry.
“I have to get back to work, but I was given an hour to make sure you were okay once they alerted me that you were up,” he says listlessly. “Let me know when you get home. I’m not sure when they’ll release you though,” he says. We both sit in silence until he awkwardly tries to hug me.
“Okay, I’ll let you know when they release me,” I say, and pat him on the back, mostly out of pity.
Lying back down, I stare blankly out of the fake window, now displaying a relaxing forest view. “Really…a forest?” I scoff to myself. Rolling over, I open the camera display on my tracker. My image reflects on my wrist in mirrored footage as I examine the massive scar.
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