So many tempting thoughts that bite away, which one you reel in are a different story. Patrick's trying to choose something to believe. It's either the thin line of hope, going optimistic or the cliff edge that is the pessimistic side, the equivalent of wanting to give up. She might as well dead.
"I am fine" his voice is average, sharp and to the point. Maya gives the nod that seals the end of their very short-lived conversation. Having acknowledged he does not want to talk about his demons. No one can know what lies beneath the wall he has built. In reality, I don't know the full story. I only perked up my ears in the direction of the mumblings of a breaking down man. Walls can be broken. But what will tear it down is another question?
Now, there was another team... Team two - we found them.
"Oh god..." is all Maya has to say to alert Patrick to the reality of the situation. The second team that he sent out to the radio tower is just as dead as the other team. More fresh and recent, many of them looking bare, released from the shackles of their armour and bringing the lightest weapons they could which consist primarily of handguns to sub-machine guns. In the ten minute gap between the archery camp and the radio station, it looks as if they made a mad dash for it, risking their lives in the hopes for a noble sacrifice. Whether they succeeded or not, I do not know. Chances look slim when the bodies have been strewn all over the place again. No creatures to be found still?
"My god... What in the world..." Ben does not finish the sentence. Both of us move towards the base of the metal staircase that spirals around the tower like a square until you reach the top. At the bottom is a single Officer. He looks like he could've been the last one. The person who saves us, only, his upper half only got him up the first few steps. His lower half is gone. His hands are still holding on tight to the gaps between each step. His organs spill from the inside, flies molesting his body hungrily. I'm as distraught as it is, but seeing this does not make it worse. I feel sick to say the least. That is about it though. I know it hasn't been long but I believe I am already getting used to the sights. The stench on the other hand...
"I am going inside the radio tower. Ed, you're with me" Patrick is the one who brings it all back. The one who had to keep everyone focused and ready. He gives the order, and I follow without question. "The rest of you stay on guard," Patrick sternly commands as he begins his ascent up the metal staircase, treading over the half a man as he goes. I follow in pursuit; machete already ready in my hand. My nerves are quickly tested as we reach the halfway mark. The higher we get, the more I see. Past the forest, the cool breeze and the ruin of the archery camp, is the remains of a smoky northern resort...
Now our next question arises. Who knows what we'll find at the top?
The more I look at him, the more I see. Patrick has this aura around him that just screams how powerful he is. Sometimes, I can't decide whether or not I feel puny next to him or protected. "Why m-me" that nervous stutter gives me away. Patrick keeps his eyes concentrated. Shotgun ready and rested against his shoulder, eyes focused down the iron sights the entire journey upwards. "Because I didn't think you had what it took when I first saw you" Patrick's sudden honesty throws me off. To hear it from someone that's not Maya hurts more. It only confirms everything I had begun to think of myself anyway. It slips by me nonetheless, just another fact in the ocean of insults.
I don't see his face, but I hear the tone change to something, nicer. "Although, I wanted to say thank you for coming" Patrick stops on the staircase, causing me to bump into him by accident. He doesn't budge from his spot. A small smile creeps onto my face. Patrick looks over his shoulder to look at me. "We need every last person we can get now Ed. With so few of us, we have to work together. Everyone has a role to play now... What will be yours?" Patrick continues walking, leaving me to think to myself for a moment. Was he serious? Is this a question I am expected to answer? I wouldn't know where to begin?!
"I don't know my role," I say quietly, a frown now on my face.
"Don't worry about it, all I need you to know. Is that I trust you."
I’m speechless.
"Ready?" He peers at me, giving me a nod as we reach the top, standing on an open metal grated balcony. I rest against the railings, one hand holding my machete and the other is resting on the pistol reluctantly. "Ready," I say, a new found confidence surges through me.
Patrick gestures for me to stand at the side of the door with the quick swift point of his index finger. I take my place, letting my eyes drift between my machete and the destructive, warmongering shotgun. Is this machete really of any use right now? What help am I...
One breath, one heave, and one powerful kick later. The door is forcefully jolted off its hinges. Finger on the trigger, Patrick storms inside! I wait for a second; then enter behind him-
The radio tower is what it is - just a radio tower. All lights are off, and the power is out.
"SHOW YOURSELF" a masculine voice calls out to us.
"This is Patrick Ross! I am leader of the-"
"PATRICK!" A single feminine voice shrieks his name so loud; I swear I feel my ears pop! I squint my eyes as I try my best to adjust to the darkness. I overhear Patrick’s shotgun hit the floor, having been abandoned by its owner, or worse...
I panic, my grip tightening around the hilt of the blade-
I gulp, hold my breath, and stop my breathing-
Hurried footsteps-
Quiet, hurriedly spoken words that I can't quite hear-
More footsteps-
The lights flash on! Blinding me-
When I come to, the first thing I see is a young man who oversees me through his pair of glasses that keep almost sliding off the bridge of his nose. He wears a green shirt and light blue jeans. His head is balding, and his eyes are a sharp, piercing blue. He seems a little overweight, but the conviction in his eyes tells me all I need to know. He's just as scared as I am.
Patrick is at the other end of the room, kneeling down alongside what could be the last SWAT member left other than Patrick himself.
And she is in bad shape...
Chapter 11 - Where are they?
Ed
Patrick's losing it. Saying how sorry he is again and again, his voice droning out. Bowing his head down to the woman, whose name I can already tell is just a nickname for her because I saw her name tag on the SWAT armour plating.
Linda Collins. Patrick calls her, Lin. Dark auburn hair. Cut short. Dark brown hazel eyes, strong jaw line, a look of Asian descent to her looks. She's just as toned as Patrick. Heck, she is almost as tall as me as well. A strong woman, looking at everything she has been through the last two days, it's a miracle to see someone survived. Team one and team two, out of god knows how many people. Only one made it...
She's gravely wounded a terrible gash on her right side. The skin has been torn and shredded by what looks like sharp talon like claws. Five slashes are embedded deep into her chest. She's barely dressed, having stripped herself down to apply the poorly wrapped bandage around the deep wound. Now she is ripe for the base of operations for infection. She seems feverish, already one step away from us and towards the darkness.
Reaching out, she places her blistered palm against Patrick's cheek where she bristles her way through the small hairs already pricking through his skin. His hysteria ends, and he softens up at her touch. They share a tender look, both just as worried at the other. The look in their eyes right now says how strong their bond is. The twinkle is there, like star-crossed lovers. Taking her hand, Patrick brings it to his mouth and kisses the top in a gentlemanly style.
"I am so sorry Lin..." Patrick whispers, reeling somewhat from all his grief. He's lost so much, and she's the final step to losing himself completely. I pay close attention. Her voice is dry and raspy, I can't quite hear what she's saying, but whatever it is only broke Patrick more. Paling, his eyes wide at something she said. Then, Jordan's name is murmured in disbelief. I sadden, remembering the fate of Patrick's close friend. Maybe Jordan had last wor
ds and passed them onto Linda for Patrick? Slowly, his eyes drift down to her torn ribcage. Sifting through the white cloth, Patrick tugs at the few gaps the bandage has, revealing more of the wound to his naked eyes. Cold sweat lingers on his head as he sees the body hasn't properly clotted. She's still bleeding out ever so gradually - destroying her casually.
She chokes something out, eyes popping out as Patrick snakes a hand to her wound, pressing on it considerately. Linda gasps momentarily, swaying forward in a pained daze, jaw hanging loose before falling back weakly against a control panel of various buttons and controls. "No, no, no, no!" Patrick yells, fiercely fighting to keep her awake as he scrambles for the already open and used first aid box across from Linda. Keeping one hand pressed on her side, he uses the other to search thoroughly through leftover scraps. Patrick's face is in alarm, his lip bleeding from how hard he's been biting it.
I feel so helpless. Linda is slipping away, and I just stand here without a clue in the world of what to do. The man beside me finally pipes up, "I tried my best..." He whispers faintly, implying it was him who gave her the first aid.
"You did what you could" I reassure, letting him know that if he hadn't been here to help patch her up best he could, she'd have already been dead.
Linda's hand falls off from Patrick's cheek-
"ED!" Patrick shouts, voice blazing, a fire in his eyes!
By his side now, I kneel down and look him in the eyes. We meet one another for a moment, and he stops everything he is going to do, rather, he just stares at me blankly. I know a desperate man when I see one...
Gently, I pull the first aid box away from him. "There's nothing we can do for her here. But, if we can get her back to the ranger station in-"
"Linda, please! LINDA!" I flinch, caught by surprise as Patrick leans in close, wrapping his arms around her limp body. I even see him shake slightly as he holds back all the emotions he had been bottling up. Once again, he pushes them deep down and turns to face me, his back to her. He doesn't see her eyes, close.
Joining us, the man who I can only assume was in control of the radio tower reaches for her wrist; he checks her pulse. Paying close attention, Patrick watches in earnest, whispering something that sounds like a sincere prayer. He's looking to above for help right now. I am an atheist, but if anyone is up there. We could use a bit of luck right now.
"She's still breathing. We need to get her out of here" The man looks up at us, his fingers still on her pulse. He states the emergency and makes it clear in his voice. Suddenly, the tone of the situation takes a dangerous turn as Patrick seethes through his teeth, "You think I don't fucking know that?" Patrick glares at him, licking his bleeding lip every so often. He doesn't even wince at it; I bet it stings though. The radio man retreats in confusion, innocently wondering what he could have done wrong. To be fair, he did nothing nor did he deserve that. Patrick is a case I can understand right now though. Sorry radio dude.
"Stand back" Patrick pushes me aside as he gets into the proper lifting position beside her, wrapping his left arm underneath her knees and his other under her neck. With a powerful heave - Patrick lifts Linda up into the air bridal style, cradling her like she is his child. Patrick turns, tapping his foot on his shotgun. "Keep an eye on this for me will you Ed?" He asks, sentiment for his weapon still comes as the second priority when he has bigger fish to fry. Or in this case, lives to save. Still, I offer him a nod, already leaning down to grab the shotgun. It's well weighted, actually making me realise how weak my arms are. I wish I worked out more back in England. Cardio and decent muscles would be so useful right now. I'm doing well for weight; I'd say I am about average. Fitness is a different story! While Patrick leaves the highly superior looking radio room, I focus my attention on the radio dude. While Patrick's occupied, I should at least fill the mandate. The real reason we came here. (No offence Patrick by the way)
"Can you send out a signal for help?" After the words are out in the open, a feeling rushes over me. I'm not sure what it is, but it leaves me with an unstoppable smile. Like a kid about to get his first Christmas present or something. I see how desperate I am at heart. How much I need help. How much we need help. We could be all that's left, and the closest we got to the aid we needed, was a helicopter that flew right over us. Linda will be the next priority after this, and who knows how long she'll last without help?
"Please, just something!" I say, raising my voice a bit. Stepping closer to him with the nozzle of the shotgun pointed at him inadvertently. Radio dude canes away, louring at me. Lowering my gun, he relaxes.
"My names William Torres-"
"That's not what I asked!"
Hold up a minute-
I pause for a moment, both of us in shock. I, because I just snapped for the first time. It's a strange feeling. It's empowering but leaves me feeling sorry. We don't have the time for pleasant introductions. We have a job to do right now. I need to fit the role. I don't know what part, but whatever benefits the group. I'm willing to do it. I've been selfless so far, and here I am, so no stopping now. William Torres, as he said, scowls at me now. A sprinkle of cowardice in his eyes. Saying nothing, he chooses to stay quiet which only brings round two of anger through me.
"We haven't got time to fucking waste William. Can you send a signal out or not?!"
William snorts his nose at me, falling to a passive aggressive stance to fight this battle. Sauntering to the control panel, he looks past the shutters that hide the glass windows and the outside world. "I sent out a signal yesterday. A helicopter flew right by us..." He mutters, slamming a fist down modestly to hide his weak-willed anger.
I say nothing. There's nothing more to say. He's already tried and failed. My job is done. We are alone out here. The only help did not help us. William sighs, turning to face me. "We got off to a bad start; may I have your name?" William is lukewarm about me. Though, he doesn't care really.
"Names Ed, I'll give you the rundown on everyone else as we walk" I reply, moving towards the door. So, after the chat on the way down, it didn't get better. Tension hung in the air between us; already we began despising each other. Was it because of how rashly I acted? I swear I had every right to... Maybe I was a bit harsh?
When we reach the bottom, everyone is crowded around Linda and Patrick. Pieces of broken SWAT armour scatter the grass, making Linda lighter for Patrick to carry in the process. After having adjusted himself, Patrick lifts her up again, already barking orders for us to move and quick! Our small group jogs fleetingly, no one having the time to ask questions or get answers. We match the same pace as Patrick who stays in the centre of this new formation which acts like a protective bubble that fans out around the two in the middle. Our leader and the woman he loves. Cody takes point, leading us now. I stay on the right side of this bubble we fell into without planning, and at the same time, keeping an eye on the panicked, but hardened Patrick. The man looks dangerous. He's willing to do anything to keep her alive right now. Their past, I wonder what it is? She means a lot to him, so there is something there. William kinda stays at the back with Ben, both of them being the only two of us who chat now and then. Although, William never shuts up, constantly talking to suppress how scared he is. Even Ben, the kind, fun loving kind of guy gets tired of his squabbling soon enough, even having to tell him to shut up in the kindest way possible. It works, and a part of me smirks at this.
Except, I am no better than William right now because for the first time, I think he is being exposed to the outside world, and we are walking right through it. All the horrors that are not new to us are to him. Glancing at Patrick again, I see Linda this time, how she rests peacefully in Patrick's bulky arms. Seemingly snug, I wonder if she is even asleep. Her face is peaceful as can be despite the horrific wound that had been inflicted on her.
Once we get to the archery camp, we take a moment to rest. We go inside, seeking the safety of the building. We don't venture far, staying by the main entrance for security reasons. Slumping down one wall, I take
a moment to catch my breath. My feet are already hurting. I wish I could've picked better-suited shoes at least. Sneakers aren't cutting it. I need boots, like everyone else.
Someone thumps down beside me. "We saw the flare last night; Linda knew it was the ranger station. You should've seen her; she was so scared that it'd been overrun or something..." William crushes the ice, choosing to finally talk to me again. Despite everything, he seems most warmed up to me because of our little adventure down the radio tower. It gave us enough time to become acquainted, unfortunately.
The Carnage Trilogy (Book 1): The Carnage [Unbending, Unyielding, Unforgiving] Page 10