Doug and Olive Jones wanted mainly for treason and theft of important information. Recently ceased production and left without authorization. Death of family member is thought to be linked to their reasons for leaving, however, this is not confirmed and the true reason will not be released until it is established at trail. Known to be skilled in creating explosive weaponry. Proceed with caution.
The paragraph left my mind in pieces. So, they were originally from Paradise? Is that why they knew so much about it? And just how important is that info? Too be honest, I had already suspected them of making bombs. Hell, Markus and I used to discuss how to create pipe bombs all the time. That day when Doug walked out the cabin, smelling like he did, clearly gave it away.
Still, grumpy old man Doug and his sweet little ole wife Olive are criminals?
I'll believe it. It's not the most outrageous thing I've discovered this week, and it definitely doesn't change my motives to rescue them. Besides, they were only criminals in Paradise, and if this wasn't the apocalypse, they'd be just some old couple living harmlessly in the woods. I can't see them as anything else.
Aaron growled suddenly, startling me. He lept, flinging past me and I was pushed back, slamming into the wall behind me. Pain shot in my mouth but I was too focused on what was happening in front of me to care.
A click and bang. My ears rang and I winced. Aaron, whom had been hit mid-air, was flung back and slammed against the wall, the same as I. He clutched where the bullet had landed, where his chest and shoulder met. He let out a feral shriek and with it my sense of hearing. I was deaf, for the time being.
Half a minute passed and I struggled to open my eyes. When I did, I found the barrel of pistol pointed at my fore head. My heart felt like it was about to puncture my chest and fly away. Behind the threat, Aaron laid sloped on the ground, his shoulder bleeding profusely.
I gulped, looking up to see my assailant. A mask covered his face, and another was held in his grasp. It looked to be the one that Aaron had before. My own fingers tSirened, wishing to grab both guns in my pockets, or at least Theron's knife. But I had a feeling that if I so much as even cough, I'm finished.
He stood above me, overpowering and dominate. I had both hands up without thinking, not wanting him to think I had a weapon. Of course, I did, but he didn't have to know that. I waited for a reaction, an order, a question or even a gunshot, but the only thing that I heard was silence, and the agony of an injured Leaper.
Aaron growled, but the click of the gun silenced him. From the way he was sitting, he was more focused on who was under the gun then who was holding it. But he was in no shape to pounce, not with that bullet lodged in his body. Another attempt to move proved it, with him whining in pain, and sloping back down again.
The stranger held his hand out, dropping the mask in my lap.
"Vous avez laissé tomber cela."
Chapter 18
The barrel of the gun was still pressed firmly against my head as I assessed the situation. Aaron was bleeding out in the corner, a stranger was holding a weapon to my forehead, speaking a language that only translated as nonsense to me, and I was a sitting duck. I've had better days.
I glared at the man from below, unable to see any facial expression due to his mask adorning his face. I gulped. Communication was key, and it was hard enough as it was with Aaron. But this was another human, with a working voice to speak with and functional mind, as far as I'm concerned.
So far, I was not making a good impression, and neither was he. It was still in the room before the man decided to speak. "Les civils ne sont pas autorisés ici." He muttered his voice monotone. My tongue throbbed slightly, I ignored it.
I stole a glimpse towards Aaron. The Leaper was slumped against the wall, no longer clutching his wound. The hat shielded his eyes, and there was a disturbing lack of chest movements to indicate breathing. Blood dripped from his clothing, creating a small pool around him. I could see my reflection in its gloss. He wasn't dead, was he?
No, he couldn't be. He's suffered worse. Hell, he's taken five punctures to the abdomen and he turned out fine. If he could survive getting stabbed multiple times, what would a little bullet do? I took another glance, spotting a small, copper bullet lying on the carpeted floor. He had pulled it out.
The pressure on my skin and the glint of metal turned my attention back to my attacker. He glared at me behind the mask, making him unreadable. In an attempt to communicate, I chose to speak. "Listen, I have no idea what you just said." Ok, maybe not the best sentence to start off with, but it was the blunt truth.
I shifted, hoping he wouldn't see the guns peeking out of my pockets, or the knife hidden away. It was still in the room, each of us sharing glares. "Vous n'êtes pas un civil. Vous portez l'uniforme d'un officier." He muttered, slightly muffled behind his mask. I raised a brow in reflex, noticing the slight head movements he was making. Somewhere in the nonsense, I heard the word officer. He was talking about my uniform.
It's times like these where I wish I hadn't of flunked out of those foreign language classes.
The screen nearby lit up, and small speakers near it began beeping. I winced at the sudden sound, and for once I saw the stranger move, glancing towards the screen. Words flashed across the screen in blue and white, snatching his attention.
Suddenly, the gun was pulled away and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. A hand came into view and the man waited patiently for me to take it. I stared at his outstretched palm, shocked. I had no clue of his intentions, so offending him wouldn't do me any good. Slowly, I was pulled to my feet.
His weapon was shoved in a holster and he turned his back to me, turning sSirenes and buttons on the table. It was like I had become invisible. I stood still, unsure of what to do. Copper caught my eye, the bullet lying a few feet away.
The man was busying himself with lit up buttons. I watched him for a few seconds, before running over and kneeling down beside Aaron. I nudged the Leaper, searching for any sign of movement or life. He didn't respond, and I was beginning to panic. In a moment of terror, I touched his shoulder. The special infected jerked to the contact and hissed. A small part of me felt guilty, but relief overlapped this.
There was noise shuffling behind me and the beeping stopped, the familiar click of a gun was brought to my attention once more. Why didn't I run when I had the chance? "Vous devez lui laisser mourir." The stranger commented. It was then I noticed that the gun wasn't pointed at me, but Aaron instead. "N'avez-vous pas d'accord, Kilo?"
He wasn't watching me, more focused on Aaron than anything. In a moment of quick thinking, I reached inside my pockets and pulled out each gun, aiming for the neck. "Don't hurt him" I threatened. The man seemed to glance over to me, and I kept a tough face. He hesitated for a moment. "Je crains que je ne connais pas votre nom."
I raised a brow, and he finally seemed to take the hint. "I believe we have not properly introduced each other." His voice carried a heavy French accent, with short vowels and his h's pronounced silent. Not sure how to respond, partly from barley understanding him anyway, I stood still. It was another tense minute before he spoke again.
"I am Philippe, and you are?"
His tone was cold and professional, but the way he worded his sentences were as if he was trying to be friendly. This only put me on edge a bit more, seeing where the last time being friendly had gotten me. Besides, I recognized his name from the list of criminals. He had plenty of reasons to be wary of him: violence, murder, even deemed mentally unstable. If people like Tanya were considered 'normal' here, then who knows what he's done to be seen as a murderer. Just what exactly was I up against?
My tongue throbbed. "My name isn't important." Giving him my name would be a bad idea. The only way Paradise would know about me is if Olive or Doug have spilled the beans, or maybe Theron had somehow gotten here before I had. No doubt there'd be a bounty on my head if what I've done was exposed to the public. But they weren't aware of me j
ust yet, and I planned it keep it that way. For now, at least.
The French man turned his head slightly, not looking at me nor Aaron. "Soyez tranquille, Kilo. Elle a rien fait encore." His sentence was muffled from the mask, and the volume he muttering in was low, but even if I could make out the words, I wouldn't have been able to understand them anyway.
A growl came from Aarons chest, and I noted that Philippe still had his gun pointed for him. I needed to think of an escape plan, and fast. I was treading on thin ice here. "And ze Leaper?" He asked, gesturing towards the infected. As if to answer him, Aaron hissed. "He doesn't have one." I lied, keeping a calm demeanor. Philippe thought for a moment. Through the window, I could see the sun had dipped lower in the sky.
"A man with no name is not a man at all." Philippe stated. "If he has no name, zan he is of no use to you." It took me a second to process before I saw the tSiren of his trigger finger. My mouth panicked before my mind could respond.
"Wait," I stammered. "I gave him a name, he's my responsibility." I confessed, and Philippe's hand lowered slightly. "Your responsibility?" He pondered. Both of my weapons were still raised, but so was his. The thought of shooting him and bolting flew into my head, but left as quickly as it had came. It was tempting, but it would attract too much noise. Besides, that armor he's wearing is probably strong enough to take a few bullets anyway.
"Yes," I answered, stealing a glance towards the Leaper. "I'm his…tamer, you see." Lying was becoming easier and easier with every word. Philippe's head tilted down ever so slightly, and for a moment, it seemed as if he had grinned, hidden behind the mask. "You are a terrible liar, mademoiselle." He commented. "It is obvious you are not a Tamer, nor his owner." I grit my teeth. If we get out of here, I was going to have to practice my lying skills.
"How did you know?" I questioned. Beside us, Aaron made an pained noise and my heart ached. He needed medical attention, and soon. "Tamer's brand their merchandise, with certain symbols, or amputate a body part to show that they have been disciplined, you see." He motioned towards Aaron. "I do not see a branding, nor does he seem to be missing a limb."
A small amount of bile rose in my throat, but I quickly shot it back down. An image of the Trapper I had seen on the street appeared and I remembered it's missing tumors, how underfed it looked and how miserable it seemed. Who would do that to another human being? Or at least, someone who was once human.
My grip tightened. "That's…" I trailed off, searching for the right word. "Horrible." Surprisingly, he nodded, agreeing with my opinion. "The world is filled with monstrosities now," He replied. "And I do not speak of the infected." Olive had said something similar that last time I saw her. I couldn't help but think of how right she was.
Suddenly, Aaron stood up, clutching the wall for support. I wanted to rush over and lend him my shoulder, but I had a feeling that once I had put my guard down, Philippe would swivel over and easily dispose of me. So I just watched with worry as the Leaper strained himself.
While the man didn't show any signs of clear fright, he did take a single step back to give the special infected more room. "It is clear to that neither of you are from Paradise." He stated. Mentally, I rolled my eyes. Thanks, captain obvious. "Why are you here?" He questioned. "You should know that Paradise does not take security breaches lightly. Especially when the intruder seems to be wearing a dead officer's uniform."
Great, so he was smarter than I thought. "We're looking for someone." I admitted. Though I wasn't sure whether or not if it was a good idea to state just who was I looking for. For all I know, that could put them into even more danger.
Philippe nodded, whether in understanding my reason or just my English, I'm not sure. His masked lifted ever so slightly, as if he was grinning behind it. "I presume you are Sara, Hmm?"
The mention of my name sent me on edge, and I gripped the guns until my knuckles went white. The ache in my arms disappeared and I made sure I had a decent shot at his neck before questioning him. "What makes you think that?" I refused to confirm my name. If he had already known it, then the rest of Paradise could be aware of me. I wanted to stay as nameless for as long as possible.
To my surprise, his gun wasn't put away but lowered to a non-lethal position. He turned to Aaron, whom was still silently seething against the wall. "And I believe zis is Aaron, no?" His French accent mangled his name, sounding more along the lines of 'ah-hon', more breathy than its English counterpart. I would bit my tongue out of pure habit if it wasn't for the feeling finally fading in my mouth.
I didn't answer, but it seems like I didn't need too. "We are on the same side, mademoiselle." Philippe stated. "You see, Doug has said much about you." He added, noticing my continuing distrust.
My stomach did backflips. "You know Doug?" I stuttered my question, and suddenly I didn't seem so threatening anymore. Philippe nodded. "Yes, he also told of your friend here." He gestured towards Aaron, whom in response gave a hard, silent glare from underneath the hat. "He however, failed to tell me that he was one of them."
"Where are they?" I demanded, my tone suddenly taking a turn. "Are they even still alive?" My hands were beginning to shake in the slightest, but I did my best to steady them. Philippe glanced down at the two weapons.
"I have already put away my own weapon, Sara." He drawled the word. I noted on how the accent alternated the ending sound of my name. "And it is not polite to not accept a truce." His tone was still that robotic monotone, but something about how it was organized made it clear that I needed to be cooperative here, even if I didn't want to be.
Aaron groaned beside me. Blood had created a very evident stain on his clothes, and he was getting close to collapsing on the floor again. If I cooperated, I could buy us sometime. Hopefully enough time to patch him up. I would have to rip some clothing to use as a bandage, or if I'm lucky enough, find some actual first aid.
I lowered my gun slowly, until both arms were hanging at my sides. "You wouldn't happen to have some first aid, would you?" He nodded, but did not offer anything else. I narrowed my eyes. "If you could just spare us a bandage-" I began to insist, but he was already pulling out a small, red plastic box out from one of the many pockets of the officer's uniform. I wonder what else he has in there.
I hesitated, before putting both guns safely in my pockets and took a step towards him. Philippe held out the kit, waiting. In one quick motion, I snatched it and backed away to Aaron's place on the wall, where I put a hand on his unhurt shoulder and forced him to sit down.
He groaned in protest, but fell to the floor with a thud. The copper bullet sat a foot away, and I eyed it before opening the box and getting out what we needed. Across the room, Philippe pulled up the now upright chair and took a seat. He pulled out something, using the end of his shirt to wipe it clean. "I am surprised." He spoke, twisting the object in his hands. "I have questions, and I am sure you do as well. This is an excellent opportunity to help one another, no?"
I caught a glint of steel and eyed what he was holding. In shock, I patted down my leg and my boot's side, but it wasn't there.
Philippe twisted Theron's knife between his fingers. "This does not belong to you."
"Well, it doesn't belong to you either." It was the best comeback I could think of at the moment. Doing my best to conceal my shock, I turned away, unrolling a bandage and ripping off a decent length. I gripped Aaron's arm, unclasping his vest and tossing it aside. When I made move to unzip his jacket, he growled. I rolled my eyes, carefully unzipping the jacket and sliding it down.
I gulped. There was a hold in his black shirt where the bullet had entered, but the skin had already begun to heal. The hole wasn't as deep as it should have been and the swelling around it was already starting to go down. But that didn't mean he wasn't necessarily in pain. Aaron flinched as I began to clean it.
"The infected are strange, do you agree?" Philippe spoke behind me, watching with dim interest. "They are capable of so many astonishing things," He added,
mostly likely refereeing to the fast healing Aaron seemed to possess. "Do you know why he can survive a gunshot?" He inquired, though it was clearly a rhetorical question.
I shrugged, tempted to mention that Aaron had survived a Siren's dreaded five fingered stab to the stomach, but I kept my mouth shut. Besides, if the bullet had hit him in a more vital area than the shoulder, he wouldn't have survived.
"Have you ever noticed that ze infection dominates the entire body? Every cell, every vein, even their breath contains a trace of ze illness." He spoke as if he was reading out of a book. To him, it seemed as if I was only focused on fixing up Aaron and only glancing back occasionally to make sure he didn't stab me in the back with the knife he stole. But I listened, Aaron was quiet.
"The infection demands so much of ze body that ze presence of a wound or another illness, Pneumonia for example, would cause it to shut down" He continued, and I briefly thought back to how Aaron hardly ever shivered in the cold. "So ze infection will combine with ze immune system, boosting it while still remaining unaffected itself."
There was a small tapping noise, and I turned back to see him leaning back in the chair, holding the knife in the light. "Interesting, no?" I glared at the stranger. "Where did you learn all of that? What are you, a scientist?" I taunted, but it wasn't like his explanation was ridiculous. It almost made sense even.
Philippe lowered the knife, glaring at me behind his mask. "I was not talking to you."
I was taken back. "…right. My bad." I went back to tearing the bandage, making three separate strips in order to properly bind. Aaron was in clear distress. His constant growling and low rumbles he made clearly stated that he still didn't like to be touched, but for some reason made no move to stop me or leap away.
"That bullet was laced with paralytic substance," Philippe tossed the knife in the air, caught it again and tossing it before twiddling with it in his palm. "If he was an immune, he would not be breathing right now." He continued, and I couldn't tell whether or not he's noticed my sudden interest increase.
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