Only The Saints (Lost Survival Series Book 2)

by David Tyne

  "That girl we were with... Serah thinks that some company called ‘Telos’ are controlling those helicopters. They’re the ones who brought the dead back to life... We were attacked by a man earlier, a test subject or some kind of monster. I don’t know what any of this means, but it’s really messed up."

  The musician, now sitting on his guitar case, shook his head with what I assumed to be understanding. To my astonishment, the atmosphere cracked and he started giggling once more. "Pffft... You’re serious?! That is bonkers, bro! That’s up there with government conspiracies, flying saucers and Nessie! No wonder Banksie brought you back, that’s a good laugh!"

  Tomás kept on chuckling, much to my own frustration. It must have been infectious, as even Jamie cracked a rare smile. "It... It does sound kinda retarded, when ya hear it out loud..." As they both failed to restrain their laughter, I slapped my palms over my face, unable to mock the absurd nature of our new enemy.

  All I could think about was that final look of abandonment in Serah's eyes, hardly a minute after I told her that she would never be alone. Even as we wasted our time with frivolous errands, Beth and the rest of the gang were fighting for their lives, just across that river. Once again, I was powerless to save anyone.

  Tomás grinned from ear to ear, still discounting my story as utter nonsense. "Well, whatever this spooky 'monster' is, I doubt it’ll bother us way out here. Especially if we're carrying—" He froze mid-sentence, a hint of movement outside of the bay window drawing him into a double-take.

  He squinted at first, then moved his eyes up towards the night sky. His cheery face dropped in an instant. Jamie joined him in standing, unsure of what the musician was doing. "Carrying what? Stop spacing out, man..."

  The teenage boy slowly followed his gaze, then nearly jumped through the roof with alarm. That level of panic could only come from one dreadful source.

  "Daniel!! It’s... It's here!" Jamie cried, backing away into the far wall. I almost didn't want to stand up and see; if I could reject its very existence, then I could still believe that there was a snowball's chance we could deliver the briefcase, save Serah and leave Queensferry to burn.

  However, I was never the sort to freeze in denial. I hesitantly marched over to the window, confronting the golden full moon at its peak.

  A dark shadow passed over the lightened surface of the orbiting rock. It was faint, but real enough to make me shudder in repulsion. What on earth was that shape?

  It flew by again, this time closer. With each passing glide, the image it imprinted on the moon got larger and larger until it was unmistakable. It was a human, although no ordinary person could look so grotesque.

  The creature landed swiftly on a rooftop across the street, allowing us to observe it more accurately. The shrivelled woman lifted her arms to reveal an immense fleshy wingspan, for all who dared to gaze upon her.

  Her breasts drooped lifelessly in front of her, the indignity only matched by the ferocious atmosphere she exerted. By appearance alone, she alerted any onlookers to the fact that she could tear them to shreds in a matter of seconds with those razor-sharp nails, or rather, talons.

  Similar in texture to the wolf-beast, this bat-like monstrosity had partially-transparent pink skin. Reflecting in the starlight was a pair of glistening dog-tags, indicating that it had indeed come from one of those Telos pods. The gift of flight was the icing on the cake, somewhat-living proof that science had taken that final step into the impossible.

  Her elongated ears pricked in our general direction, to which she let out an ungodly squawk and took to the air once more, perching herself on the lamp post outside.

  Those webbed toes wrapped unnaturally around the cold metal, denting the surface. I was afraid to make another sound in case she heard me, but the words just came out.

  "Fuck… Fuck. We’re fucked."

  18 | Boxed-In Prey

  Not a single one of us had spoken, after nearly an hour of suffocating tension. Each throbbing second, I was painfully aware of Serah's declining situation... Despite how much danger she was in, her final words suggested that she already knew it was the opposite.

  We were the ones who weren’t coming back.

  I checked on the flying creature through the window for the billionth time; her position hadn’t changed, still staring into the side of the building for seemingly no reason. Tomás and Jamie had long since left to scavenge whatever was left in the hotel, since we were trapped anyway.

  I decided to head back to the bar area, where we'd first met Mr Banks. Pulling up the knocked-over stool, I figured that I'd earned myself a quick drink. The monster outside wasn't acting hostile, at least not to those of us indoors. All we could really do was wait until morning, hoping that time would eventually wear her down.

  Reaching behind the bar, I nicked a lukewarm bottle from the fridge, using my metal poker to pry its cap off. I sat depressed and alone in that unlit bar, drinking beer that tasted like hot piss — wasn't exactly my highest point. I gulped it down dubiously, hoping that alcohol would take the edge off of our 'imprisonment'.

  The kickback only served to remind me of the last drink I'd had, back in that penthouse; the days when Ian, Millie and the rest were still around. Both instances, we were being threatened with a hostage situation… and yet, I found myself nostalgic for the old group we used to have.

  It wasn't that Jamie was bad company, or that I had anything against Tomás. I was just in low spirits, full of regrets and wishing that I could’ve done something to stop the O-Saints’ demise. The irony was by no means lost.

  That delusional cult, they were harmless compared to those helicopters. Now we’re dealing with a much bigger threat—

  I whipped my head around, hearing a metal clang that echoed out from one the guest rooms. Taking my bottle with me for comfort, I brazenly decided to obey the horror trope and check out the strange noise.

  I approached the corridor with careful consideration, consciously eying the door that the sounds seemed to be originating from. Is that monster trying to break through?

  My hand barely brushed the doorknob, opening by itself. A man walked right into me, bouncing off of my shoulder before he sprung back against the door. "A-Aah! Oh, sorry...."

  It was Tomás, I realised as he bent over to pick up Mr Banks’ metal briefcase. "What are you doing with that?!" I pointed out, the accusation already on my tongue. He scrambled to find his balance, looking rather dishevelled.

  "What, this? You left it alone... didn't you? I was taking care of it—"

  I snatched the case away from him, almost embarrassed that I'd forgotten to bring it with me when I left. I took another swig of the drink in my hand, knowing that I couldn't be more impaired tonight if I tried.

  "What were you doing in there?” I asked, leaning into the room to inspect it. “Did you seriously open the window?! There’s a giant bat... thingy, right outside! You want to rob us that badly?"

  “It was already open, bud! Jesus!” The pale Tomás pushed me aside, apparently not fond of being bombarded with questions. "C’mon, would I really steal your money and do a runner?"

  “You tell me, ‘bud’!” I yelled back, not knowing what to think. The only thing I did know, was that the raised voices were a huge mistake.

  The window inside the room shattered horizontally, causing us both to slam the door shut at the same time. A high-pitched screech filled the hotel, crunching broken glass on the other side.

  A powerful blow against the wood blew our door away from its hinges, and we were standing face-to-face with the hysterical mutilated woman. My jaw dropped open, only to snap shut with a frigid turn.

  She’s not a woman, I scolded myself. She’s an it. That bitch is nothing like a human.

  Realising that we were probably safer outside of this deathtrap, I ushered Tomás and a blindsided Jamie into the next guest-room, which also had a window. The plan was to climb out unnoticed, but the winged monster was smarter than a usual Lost.

  Usin
g its curtain of an arm, it battered me over the side of the head, pulling me back out into the corridor. Both of its hands flapped wildly against me, drawing blood with each swipe.

  "A...Argh... Jamie, go!!” I screamed through flails, motion-blurring towards freedom. “Get outside, I'll try... to meet… Oh, fuck off!"

  I couldn't concentrate through the blows, but Jamie apparently got the message as he slammed the door shut in my face. The giant fleshy bat lay on top of me, squawking and shrieking without any restraint as its sharpened grapple had me pinned against the floor.

  Those dog-tags constantly slapped me in the face, teasing its artificial nature. The only line I could make out was on the very bottom.

  Class: Harpy

  I was familiar with the myth, but now was hardly the time for reflection. It was clear that whatever this freak of nature used to be, it had become nothing more than a tormenting, bird-like Harpy. I would feel no remorse in ending its struggled life as a test subject for Telos, a fate worse than death.

  I gripped my metal poker and briefcase tight in both hands, bringing both up over my head towards the Harpy's hawk-like eyes. I heard a blood-curling scream, assuring me that I'd hit my mark, and the fearsome pressure keeping me grounded was lifted.

  I rolled onto my feet and dashed through the lobby, colliding against the entrance door before cursing myself for barricading it so excessively. I had bought three, maybe four seconds of time with that dirty jab to the face.

  Even after that estimation, the creature still hadn't torn its way through the corridor yet as I threw the chairs away and flipped the blocking coffee table onto its side. I slipped out almost too easily after my close scuffle, hoping that the Harpy would stay oblivious to my escape.

  I was startled to find that Jamie and Tomás were nowhere near the vicinity; searching around, I saw a brief outline of their two figures at the bottom of the Main Street, waving at me through the darkness. They seemed to be pointing out towards the sea, and I followed their outstretched arms until I saw what the big deal was.

  A small light was travelling over the surface of the water... They’d spotted a boat coming across, from the other side of the river. A tiny glimmer of hope through the centre of this hostile battlefield, surrounded by choppy-black waves.

  Is it really them? Did they manage to come across earlier than expected? My knees nearly buckled, relieved that I wouldn’t have to barter for Serah's freedom alone.

  I gave chase after Jamie as he made whooping sounds, unnerving me to the point of glancing back at the old hotel. Even as we ran away, I was worried that the Harpy might overhear us.

  Tomás had been acting strange ever since we'd entered the hotel, his once-gleeful demeanour now timid and unnerved. Perhaps the fleshy passengers of Telos’ helicopters had shaken him more than I thought. Regardless, we pressed on as we cut away from the Main Street and rushed along the waterfront towards the docks.

  I could almost make out the three passengers, lifting my hopes even higher. It had to be them... I didn't want to admit it at the time, but part of me was always afraid that I’d stand on the shore and realise that one of them was missing.

  The smaller of the three figures had visibly blonde hair, bringing a huge sigh of relief to Jamie. "Hey, look — it's Beth! She's all right!! Thank fuck, I thought she’d never...”

  While I was glad for her, little Bethany was not the one that ultimately drew my attention. I paused mid-step, ceasing all movement. The other two figures were now clear as day in the pitch-black night; Harry's large frame and Millie's silky-brown hair, both unmistakable.

  The two held such a close proximity towards each other, rather informal for what they were. My entire world had collided with an unforeseen circumstance... Now that the idea was being put in front of me, I rejected it entirely.

  My heart sank to the bottom of the river, watching as the small tugboat pulled into the docks. Millie tapped Harry on the back modestly, waiting for him to turn the engine off. He turned around, apparently saying something funny as she laughed a little too hard.

  His hand met hers, and the rest of his body wrapped itself around my childhood friend. Their lips connected, and the mere sight was enough to make my hollow chest burn.

  ----

  The panicked man threw each leg forwards, kicking the road to create as much distance between his fatigued body and the winged monster as possible.

  He knew that it hadn't seen him leave the hotel, but he was not going to take any chances. In the middle of the street, the dead were closing in as he weaved in and out of their hordes.

  "N… Not gonna happen, bros..." He choked, his throat turning dry.

  The man needed to catch his breath, but it was far too dangerous to stop. After leaving his own brother behind, he trusted him to buy enough time for their escape. This opportunity could not be wasted.

  He looked down at his fruitful reward and a heavy pang of guilt struck him; he’d only just started to realise the gravity of his crime. What his departure meant for those he'd abandoned, in the middle of their own dire situation. His once-unassuming eyes were now begging for penance as he glanced back, knowing that it wasn't too late to return…

  Stopping in his tracks, he turned his head to face the path he'd already travelled — morality was the ice that froze him in place. Feeling the weight of the prize in his cold hands, he considered the potential salvation that it carried in both directions.

  "Belle… Big bro… What should I do?!"

  19 | The Old Switcheroo

  Jamie ran over to the waterlogged Beth as she cheered his name; the two kids span around each other several times, before settling down to simultaneously recap their adventures. She waved me over to say hello, but it was all I could do to nod back with a feeble smile.

  Turning towards Millie’s approach, I noticed her usual grin filling her entire face… I hadn't seen her do around me in the longest time. "Hey Danny, nice shorts! What're you selling?" she teased, hoisting herself off the boat and splashing sea water against my bare legs.

  Harry joined her side, clearly unaware that I'd seen them both tongue-wrestling on the boat. "What a relief... We were totally overrun, on the other side of the bridge. Those naked freaks were everywhere, wouldn’t stop chasing us all night. We came as soon as they left—"

  His eyes scanned around, realising that something was missing. "S-Serah... Shit man, tell me she’s not—"

  I stopped him there, and tried to calmly explain everything that had happened in the hotel and the elitist Aquarium. Millie’s eyes shook in complete shock, especially when I described the Harpy monster that we had barely managed to elude.

  “We saw the same thing! Crazy bitch was cutting the O-Saints’ up and slitting their throats, with just her fingers… There’s more over here?!”

  "Ours should still be trapped in the hotel,” I inserted, mostly for my own benefit, “but hell if I'm going to double-check. We've got the money at least, so all we have to do is get it to Banks and he should let Serah go."

  Mils exhaled worriedly, trying to comfort me by putting her hand on my shoulder. Not wanting to deal with any complex emotions right now, I callously shrugged her off.

  "We’re… wasting time. Let’s go." Hopefully, for the last time, we turned swiftly towards the Main Street. I refused to fall behind the group, to let them see the anguished expression they’d stapled across my face.

  The road back was long and tedious, made even more frustrating by the proximity of the two lovers. They kept themselves a car’s length away from each other, seemingly holding back in my presence.

  How considerate, I thought bitterly. Eventually I started to lag behind, just to get away from their imaginary flirting. The only person that noticed was Beth, slowing herself down to a matching weary plod.

  "Mister Daniel... What's wrong? Aren't you happy that we came back?"

  I couldn't help but crack a weak smile, realising how much I missed Beth's random formality. I wasn't being very sociable tonig
ht, if even Beth was picking up on it. "Yeah, you know I am! We were really worried about you guys, it’s just… Do you know what happened between Harry and Mils, when you were over there?"

  Beth pondered this for a moment, then smirked innocently. "Yeah! They're in love, just like with Mister Ian!"

  The indiscriminate comment threw me for a moment, but I recovered quickly for Beth's sake. "I...I see. Well, that's... great."

  At some point during his chat with Millie, Harry must have seen me trying to pry information out of the poor girl. Falling back, he patted Beth onwards to walk alongside his love interest, freeing up a space beside me.

  "Dan, what did Beth say? She doesn't—"

  "Shut up... Just shut up.” I wasn't going to tip-toe around this any longer. “Ian loved you. He’s been dead for barely a week, and you’re already moving on… Didn't he mean anything to you?!" I yelled almost a little too loud, but fortunately, the pale Tomás was the only one who heard.

  The stranger glanced Harry up and down with a bewildered look, then let out an audible "Oh...!" as he figured it out.

  Harry ‘the whore’ looked mortified at how indiscreet I was being about his past relationship. "Y-You mind keeping your voice down?! That's real low of you, bringing him up...” He paused, grinding his jaw into place. “Or is this about your five-year plan with Millie?”

  “There is no ‘plan’. Never was.” Even as I said it, I still couldn’t make myself believe those words. Thinking back to my near-kiss with Serah, somehow the memory had been tainted with fresh guilt.

  Why should I feel bad about that? Millie’s moved on… I did, too. We got tired of waiting for each other.

  Harry also sounded tired, unsatisfied with my response. "So, you do like her. I should’ve asked first, Dan. That’s on me… but seriously? Grow some fucking balls," he scoffed, thumping into my shoulder as he moved on ahead. “Nice guys don’t get laid. They get dunked on.”