Exodus (The Fall of Haven)

by Justin Kemppainen

  Tanya appeared pale and sickly, leaning against the doorframe and shaky on her feet. Her face was covered by an oval mask, and it gently provided oxygen to her damaged lungs. She looks awful, but I guess it's no wonder, Isaac thought with a slight shudder. She's lost the one person in the world she cared about before being blown up and inhaling a deadly toxin.

  The medic who'd treated Tanya had expressed her lack of dying as some kind of miracle. The mere fact of her ability to move around under her own power was a phenomenon all its own.

  She pulled the mask to the side, speaking in a rasping tone. "This is the place where we keep our dead. You have yours, and I have mine."

  Something in the way she spoke made Isaac's insides clench. "Yeah," he said, "I guess you're right."

  Tanya drew in a breath from the mask and moved over to another covered body. She knelt down, drawing the sheet back. Eugene's eyes were closed. There was no rise and fall of his chest; he appeared every bit as dead as Sergei.

  She reached down and touched Eugene's cheek. "The mewling children cry of demons in our flesh, demons to make the dead rise again." She looked up at Isaac.

  Hope, Isaac thought. She wants me to confirm the rumors so she can have hope of Eugene returning.

  He stared at his hand, disquieted by the thought of tiny creatures burrowing around inside it. "I don't know, Tanya. I got the doc's full, yelling report on it, and this whole thing is so far beyond me."

  "I should not have survived, no?" She smiled, using one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Does this make me the walking dead? Does this mean all of those who rest here will rise soon to rejoin us?"

  "Wish I could tell you; I wish I knew anything at this point." Isaac ran a hand through his hair.

  "You are troubled." It wasn't a question.

  "Yeah..." he said. "It's been such a nightmare. I just don't know what to do. Sergei..."

  She nodded. "Both of you were great idiots in many ways, but Sergei understood some small parts of fighting and leading his people. You very clearly do not." The long statement left Tanya short of air; she replaced the mask and drew in slow, deep breaths.

  The rebuke stung, especially spoken in frank honesty and not from a place of spite. It would've been much easier to handle had Tanya been angry or insulting, but she spoke a simple statement, one which he knew the dire truth of.

  "Yeah," he felt a heat rise to his face. "Everything's so messed up, and I'm a shitty leader. I didn't know if we stood a chance against the Citizens, but now if the doc is right, and Nigel's coming back..."

  Tanya raised the mask. "What does one do when times are hard and survival is in question?"

  Isaac cradled his head in his hands. "I don't know. I just don't know."

  The woman stood. On wavering feet, she moved to his side and gripped his arm with surprising strength. Staring into his eyes, she said, "I heard you say it before: one does what is necessary. If there is no option save a glorious death, then so be it. Face what comes without fear or hesitation."

  He didn't break away from her gaze. "What if survival, survival for all of us, requires something else, like cowardice?"

  Tanya's body shook with light, rasping laughter. "Isaac," she said, "while I have spoken otherwise on many, many an occasion... there is seldom cowardice in the action most intelligent."

  She released his arm, swaying for a moment on unsteady feet. As the thought of needing to catch her crossed his mind, she gained balance and walked back over to Eugene. Kneeling down, she kissed his forehead and replaced the sheet. She stood, this time with no imbalance, and walked from the room without another word.

  Isaac stared at her the entire time, mind whirling with thoughts and ideas. One came forth, solid, strong, and casting aside any others. He stared down at Sergei's body. You'd hate it. By God, you would for sure.

  However, something seemed right about it. For the first time since hearing of his comrade's parting, the burden of leadership lightened, and the insecurity of not knowing the correct path faded away.

  Isaac set off immediately, ready to gather the higher-ups and tell them of his plan. Some part of him knew convincing them would be tricky, but the same confidence which cut through his doubts told him he would succeed in it.

  He smiled. Cowards we may be, but I'll be damned if this isn't the smartest play.

  ******

  So far, so good, Rick thought. No one's died or run off. Our pace isn't too terrible either.

  He sidled up next to Quinton, who plodded along with a slight limp. "How's the hide? Your wound tear open yet?"

  "I think the doc stitched the clothes into my skin," Quinton grumbled. "I'd have had better luck having the kid take care of it."

  Cass scowled at the old man. "Listen here, grandpa-"

  "Never had any kids, thank God." Quinton ignored her. "Annoying little critters, don'tcha think?"

  Rick surveyed the dark streets for the thousandth time. He replied, distracted, "Oh, I don't know. Some aren't so bad, I guess."

  "Oh, pardon me for saying," the old man mocked. "Can't say anything bad about 'em; you probably want the new missus to start firing off a few little ones before too long, eh?"

  Rick's eyes went wide. "No, of course not! Why would you-?" He clenched his teeth upon hearing Quinton's cackling laugh.

  "What's the geezer huffing about?" Kaylee jogged over to Rick's side.

  "Nothing!" Rick replied, a bit too quickly.

  Kaylee raised an eyebrow. "Okay..."

  "Rick was just getting made fun of, again," Cass jumped in.

  "Ah, well, that'll happen," Kaylee nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

  "Christ, what's wrong with you people?" Rick scowled. "I come over here to ask how the geriatric here is doing and comment on how well he's moving with injuries and dust for bones, but all I get is scorn."

  Quinton laughed more. "Poor guy."

  Rick clenched his teeth. "Can we at least try to pretend like the situation is serious here?"

  The old man clapped a hand on Rick's shoulder. "Son, if you live long enough, you might learn that there's always a situation to be serious about. Find moments of joy, because if you're gonna die, you might as well do it with a laugh in your gut."

  Muttering to himself, Rick stepped away from the old man, who began a conversation with Cass.

  Kaylee followed. "Bit touchy?"

  "Haven't I earned it?" Rick said with frown. "Also, did he just tell me to lighten up? Me?"

  She shrugged. "You are pretty tense right now. Have been for a while."

  "I haven't slept for a while. Things have been crappy for a while. We're still stuck babysitting this crowd for a while. So yeah, maybe I'll stay tense. Y'know, just for a while."

  Tossing her hands up, Kaylee replied, "Whatever then. I'll leave you to it." She turned away.

  "Wait, don't go..." Rick gave a sigh, reaching out. "Please don't be petty."

  Kaylee smiled. "It's not about being petty; you're just not much fun like this. You wanna brood? Fine by me, but I ain't gonna hang around for it. It'll just make me cranky."

  Rick wanted to object, but there was nothing he could say. He sighed again. "Sorry; I'll try to lighten up." He passed a long, sweeping gaze over the surroundings. "A little joking is fine, but we need to keep up our guard."

  "Hate to break this to you," Kaylee eyed him with a skeptical look, "but we aren't a fighting force here."

  "I know that," he replied, irritated, "but what were we supposed to do? Stay there, die a slow but certain death? At least with running we've got a-"

  She waved him off. "Hey, you don't have to convince me. I'm with ya all the way, boss."

  "At least the way is not too much further, thank God."

  Rick was right; their intended exit path lay just ahead, though it'd take a while to squeeze everyone through the tight space. Then the next worry would be where to go, who they'd appeal to for help, and so on.

  He fell into silent contemplation, dozens of possibili
ties and approaches to try. Kaylee continued walking beside him, a comforting presence to be sure, and evidently knowing him well enough to recognize deep thought.

  Blocks swept beneath them, wrapped in the familiar questions from the crowd of how much further, where they were going, why they left in the first place, and others yet. Rick provided absentminded answers, not wanting to bear the burden of constantly easing their minds.

  I've got my own worries to deal with, he thought.

  Nearing the destination, Rick jogged to the front, getting ready to begin dispensing instructions on how to proceed. He wanted everything to progress in a clean and smooth fashion. Enough trouble would be had once they reached the surface.

  As he turned the corner, he experienced a moment of half-startle before his body jolted into full attack mode. Trouble, it seemed, was already waiting for them.

  Nigel, alive and grinning wildly, stood alone at the entrance to the building they sought.

  No hesitation; he dies now! Rick thought, reaching for Isaac's revolver.

  Movement and decisions passed between heartbeats. Rick's hand touched the grip, and Nigel's grin faded.

  "Fire that weapon and a fury shall descend like none you've ever seen!"

  Nigel finished the threat in the barest instant before Rick drew a bead. Something in the man's voice, something commanding and brutally honest made him hold his fire. Part of him wished the weight of the trigger was just a hair lighter. For better or worse, damnation or salvation, the gun would have fired. Rick knew in every fiber of his being that the shot would have struck true.

  It took every ounce of effort for him to avoid dropping the weapon to his hip and fanning the hammer until naught remained of the bastard but a smear. For reasons unknown even to him but ruthlessly compelling all the same, he didn't fire.

  God, what am I doing? His finger tightened again. I have to kill him. God, no hesitation, not again!

  Rick took a breath and steeled himself to take the shot.

  "Seven hundred of my loyal children have you surrounded!" Nigel called out, the grin faded, replaced by genuine disquiet.

  He expected you to back down; he's off guard. Take the damn shot! a voice shouted in Rick's mind. Seven hundred... Gods... another whispered. What if he's telling the truth?

  Goading thoughts highlighted the impossibility of survival against such odds. If he's telling the truth, then everyone is screwed, and I'd be a fool not to take the chance to drag him along. If he's lying and I miss this opportunity...

  Nigel seemed to read Rick's mind, as he thrust out a hand. "Wait! One opportunity exists for the survival of your flock! One only!"

  Rick hesitated again, cursing himself for the weakness he displayed. Just a little squeeze, the voice urged him on. End this farce. Don't play his games.

  "Oh my God... How...?" Kaylee gawked, horrified.

  Don't let him do this, the voice whispered. Don't let him...

  "Shoot," Kaylee said in a meek tone. "Kill him again, Rick. Kill him now. Don't let him do this," she echoed his thoughts.

  "Only one opportunity," Nigel repeated, his expression serious with none of the ridiculing humor or any hints of fear. "If I speak one word, or if I fall..." he made a quick motion across his throat. "All of your people here will die."

  Bare seconds had passed between the moment where Rick had spotted Nigel and the torturous decision to shoot or not. The civilians began to catch up, murmurs and questions sweeping through the crowd behind him. If they realize what's happening, they'll panic. Oh dear God...

  "Keep them in line, Richard," Nigel spoke in a warning tone. "They have the opportunity to survive, but fleeing..." he turned his palms upward, as if somehow the slaughter of hundreds existed out of his control.

  Speaking of hundreds, Rick thought. He said he had seven hundred of his followers around us. Is that even possible? How could he have so many?

  "Calm yourself and your flock, Richard. I will not ask again."

  The use of a name which didn't belong to him boiled Rick's blood, and again a brief internal struggle of whether to shoot or not ensued.

  "What's going on? What's happening?" Desmond's voice came from behind, the schoolteacher digging his way through the crowd.

  With heavy doubts and heavier sorrow, Rick lowered the revolver. "Trouble," he whispered, not taking his eyes from the cult leader.

  Desmond drew in a sharp breath. "Is that him? I thought he was dead."

  Rick gave a fraction of a nod, flickering a tiny glance to Kaylee at his side. She didn't speak, frozen and horrified.

  "Please, no one move!" Desmond called out to the crowd. Questions resounded, a confused and apprehensive murmur. "Please, keep quiet, and keep calm! It is very important that you do so!"

  By some miracle, the simple request caused the murmuring and questions to cease entirely. It's good they trust him, Rick thought.

  Nigel eyed the unholstered weapon clenched in Rick's hand. For a moment, he appeared poised to comment, but instead he broke into a wide grin. Rick didn't know if he'd ever felt such hatred in that moment.

  The cult leader basked in his own arrogance. His expression was one of smug triumph, and again every ounce of Rick's will went toward not blasting him into the next world. You haven't won anything yet, you monster, he thought.

  "Excellent, very good Richard. You have many around you worthy of respect. I admire it." Nigel paced a few steps, his arms folded behind his back. He drew in a deep breath and released it in a sigh of contentment.

  "Can you sense it?" he asked, excitement in his voice. "It's so... so intoxicating, this fear. It simmers in their blood." Nigel spun towards them. "Your blood."

  The cult leader raised his arms skyward and bellowed, "Fear in their hearts!"

  A response came, deafening and like rolling thunder. Voices crashed in all around, hundreds and more spiking a moment of numb terror in Rick's mind.

  "FEAR IN THEIR BLOOD!"

  Nigel cried out again, "Fear in their hearts!"

  "FEAR IN THEIR BLOOD!" the roaring response came.

  "Fear in their hearts!"

  "FEAR IN THEIR BLOOD!"

  The mantra echoed all around, followed by the anxious, bordering on terrified, whisperings of the crowd of civilians. Desmond, his voice and manner seeming unaffected, passed word through to keep calm, to not panic.

  "Ah... I'm afraid some days I cannot help myself. Your flock is filled with so much delicious fear," Nigel took a few steps forward, "but I am nothing if not a man of my word."

  He continued, "Dearest Richard and Kaylee. Your hearts bleed this same terror, and what I wish from you this evening is a choice."

  Rick's insides clenched. Even with full knowledge of Nigel's terrible followers in vast quantities all around, part of him wished he had shot the bastard before this horrible damage could be done.

  "Yes, a choice." Nigel grinned. "You see, we will eventually take everyone in this city into our embrace. We will cultivate the desperate dread in every single soul until it boils over, and then we will feast upon that fear in a song of Light without end or equal."

  He swept a gesture. "Yes, all will be ours, but for tonight... tonight..." He straightened. "The choice is simple. Much more of this delicious terror can swell in these people, and in you yourselves, Richard and Kaylee. I ask you to decide who we will take this evening. The two of you... or all of them."

  Rick's mouth went dry, and the air squeezed out of his lungs. A horrible, numbing cold spread across his body, and for a moment he had no inkling of what to say, do, or think: a moment which stretched on and on.

  We can't... scattered thoughts leaked through. Too much... we have to finish... we just started... not like this... why does it have to end like this?

  He finally broke away from gawking at Nigel, covering his mouth with a hand. He turned to Kaylee; her expression mirrored his anguish. She looked up at him in a terrified, sorrowful daze. The sight caused tears to well up in his eyes, his own despair yawning wide ben
eath him.

  "Decide," Nigel said.

  Rick hardly heard it. He and Kaylee lost focus on the world surrounding them, locked in each others' gaze. Too many thoughts rushed by: hopeless and impossible fight or flight, unfinished business, shattered hopes, and selfish desires.

  Plain as day, her expression betrayed the desperation in his own heart. Every fiber of his being cried out to choose her, to choose the greater evil and allow so many to die in his place.

  "We can't..." he whispered, and her glimmer of hope, the frantic desire to survive, vanished into a mask of pure despair.

  "Why not?" she said in response, voice choked with emotion. "Why shouldn't we save ourselves?"

  Rick's body trembled, and his knees felt weak, ready to give out at any second. "Could you live with it?"

  Tears spilled down her cheeks, and Rick's heart flailed as if to burst from his chest. More than anything he'd ever known in his entire life, he wanted to scoop her up and run, to destroy anything preventing his path.

  He wanted to kill Nigel, to rain hate, death, and destruction over all of his cursed followers. He wanted to smash Haven, this city of lost and terrible souls. He wanted to scour the earth of its terrible presence and wipe its existence from all living memory.

  He wanted a quiet life. A calm place for them to live, to allow their strong fondness to grow into something more. He wanted the wonderful mysteries and unknowns of the future to be spread before them, to discover and share each one with her. He wanted life, life with her if such a possibility existed.

  Rick did not want to die.

  A horrible death at that: a fate he'd never have imagined in all his years fighting, hiding, running, and scraping by on not much more than sheer luck.

  No, Rick didn't want to die, but every bit of him knew he had to.

  Locked in their little world within each other, Rick viewed the same plight and sorrowful acceptance in Kaylee's eyes. Tears flowing down both their cheeks, they folded into an embrace.