Legacy earth, p.27
Legacy Earth, page 27
“Dogs,” Lance replied with their barks, snarls, and growls growing louder.
“Crap,” Justin said, hanging his head. “So what do we do?”
Lance grabbed his friend by the collar. Spinning, he threw the cadet into the river, where standing up, his head was just above the water line.
“What are you doing?!” Justin snarled as he righted himself.
“There’s no outrunning dogs,” Lance replied. “You’re short enough to stay mostly submerged easily. Follow the river, keep only your head above the water, and do not, DO NOT get out unless there’s a health risk to you.”
Justin grumbled. He turned and lifted his feet and let the current take him. Lance looked toward the sounds of the dogs. Grabbing a nearby branch, he covered his friend’s tracks before turning around and taking off in an all-out sprint. The animals closed in on him and the cadet needed to put as much distance between himself and Justin as he could.
Thirty-Five
R.E
Howls rose through the forest as Lance pressed forward. Men shouting joined them. Great, now they’re on my tail! the cadet thought to himself. A deep burn formed in his side as he hopped over fallen trees and slid under elevated logs. With each step, a deep ache grew in both legs.
“Just a little longer, just a little longer!” he muttered to himself while sweat poured from him like a fountain.
A bolt of lightning shot through his left calf and spiraled up his leg through his hip. Every muscle fiber tightened and twisted through his leg, sending pulses of fiery pain through his appendage. Lance’s blood pressure skyrocketed as he fell to the ground.
Clenching his teeth, he held his leg as he fought back a blood-curdling scream. His head felt like it was going to explode. His heart pounded in his chest and the cadet wished he’d still had his armor.
“GET UP!” he grunted between gritted teeth. “GET MORE DISTANCE, GET UP!”
Lance turned to his stomach. He pushed off the ground and stood on his good leg. Putting the slightest bit of weight on his left sent more pain contorting through his limb. He continued to limp through the brush while the sounds of his pursuers grew louder with each passing moment.
Reaching a clearing, he looked back into the woods. He could see the enemy forces descending on him now. They were less than a hundred yards away. Dropping to his knees, he placed his hands on his head.
In a matter of minutes, he was surrounded by snarling dogs and shouting soldiers aiming guns at him. The cramp in his leg subsided as peace settled into the cadet’s heart. They didn’t have Justin. He must’ve gotten away. That peace was short-lived as their leader emerged.
“Oh come on, there’s no way THAT’S fair,” Lance complained.
“All is fair in love and war,” Jackson replied while approaching with his hands behind his back and a deep purple bruise still around his right eye. “Captured on the first day. I expected more from you Warder. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Worth it,” Lance replied with a chuckle before a bag was thrown over his head.
Someone grabbed the cadet’s arms and yanked them behind his back. He let out a grunt as his shoulder twisted a way it wasn’t supposed to. Clasps were slapped around his wrists as he was picked up by two other men by his arm pits. Lance left his legs relaxed, forcing them to pick up his full bodyweight as they dragged him through the woods.
SMACK!
A stinging sensation spread across the side of his skull as someone slapped him hard enough to jolt his head one direction.
“WALK, PRISONER!” Jackson yelled.
His face was so close, Lance felt the heat of his breath through the bag.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen,” Lance replied. “I have leg cramps, ankle to hip. It’s the only reason why you caught me.”
“You will walk, prisoner, or there will be consequences,” Jackson threatened.
“I’d love to; I’m just all oodly-noodley over here,” Lance replied.
SMACK!
Another hit to the other side of the head before they continued dragging him through the woods. Lance relaxed his entire body, forcing the soldiers to carry his dead weight. The strain left on his shoulders allowed for a mild aching to build up. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make for a chance to make their lives just a little bit more miserable.
The sound of a gate sliding open rang through the air followed by the buzzing of a door and the click of its lock opening. Lance counted the steps of his captors from where he thought the gate was to the door. Sixty-two steps.
His feet went from bouncing on stones, dirt, and roots to sliding across concrete. The cadet kept an ear out. As they walked, groans and whimpers mixed with defiant growling passed either side of him every ten steps or so.
Nearly two hundred feet into the building, a cheap metal door slid open. Lance was thrown forward. He hit the ground with a thud lancing on his shoulder. A second later, someone grabbed the back of his collar and ripped him up to his knees. His shirt tightened around his throat for a moment before the bag was yanked off.
“Come on, man, you almost choked me,” Lance said, looking up at the soldier behind him. “You could use some more training on your bed-side manner.”
SMACK!
Pins and needles erupted through his cheek at the powerful slap delivered to his cheek. It felt like getting punched in the ring.
“Oh come on, my grandma could rise out of her grave and hit harder than that,” Lance quipped.
A woman in front of him cleared her throat. Lance turned his attention to the sound’s source and let out a whistle. She stood at least six foot four inches tall. Her arms rippled with muscles that the cadet felt mild envy for. Her tank top revealed her feminine curves while showing off her abs through the fabric.
“You’ve got to be some kind of Amazon,” Lance said before the woman grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’ve got a girlfriend and I don’t think she’d be too pleased to hear about us.”
“Ready the table,” she snarled.
The soldiers who brought him into the room walked behind her. Lance’s heart sank; a wooden table sat at a fifteen-degree decline with leather straps was in the center of the room. A rusted drain sat under the lower end of the table with water splashed everywhere. That was when the damp, musky scent of moldy air caught his attention.
“You know, if this relationship is at the point you’re already going to bathe me, I’d at least like to know your name,” Lance said with a wry smile. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you seem like a Brunhilda to me. Are you a Brunhilda?”
She remained silent as the straps were undone and laid to the side.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lance added. “So, Hildy, do you mind if I call you Hildy? What’s your favorite color? Mine’s pink, but not like ANY pink, it HAS to be that bright neon pink, the kind that almost hurts to look at.”
The woman dubbed Hildy yanked Lance toward the table and threw him on it with little effort. The cadet held his sarcastic smile despite his joints aching from the impact. Before he could roll off, both straps were drawn over him and cinched tight, preventing him from being able to move.
“What were you doing in our territory?” she asked as she picked up a five-gallon bucket that sloshed water over its edge.
“I heard there was a fantastic little day spa in this area that was just five stars all around and I wanted to give it a try,” Lance replied as he hid the tinge of concern that tugged at the back of his mind.
Everything went black, his head was jerked back, and slammed against the table by a very rough cloth. Water splashed over his forehead and onto his chest as the mainstream itself encompassed his face. Water rushed up his nose. He tried to exhale but was unable to from the towel on his face.
“GET OUT OF THIS; YOU’RE DROWNING!” Lance’s mind screamed at him.
The cadet fought against his restraints to no avail as his lungs burned, unable to take in air. A deep ache settled in the pit of his stomach from oxygen deprivation. His head went light and floaty. Just before he passed out, the water was stopped and the towel removed.
Lance’s body jerked forward as he coughed up water. Gasping for air, his organs continued to burn while his now blurred vision focused after a few deep breaths.
“That’s no way to treat a guest,” Lance said between coughs.
“I will ask you again, what were you doing in our territory?” she asked, holding the bucket up in a menacing manner.
“Fine, fine, I’ll tell you,” Lance relented to give himself time to catch his breath. “There’s a really rare berry in these woods that makes you hallucinate being tortured by a large woman named Hildy… apparently, I found it!”
Everything went black again as she poured the water over his face once more. This went on for five full buckets. Each time they’d give him a reprieve, he made a jab intending to annoy them. Despite getting weaker with each round, he told them nothing.
After the last bucket was emptied, Hildy unstrapped him from the table. The cadet noticed one of the soldiers that escorted him was gone. She pulled him to his feet. His prolonged lack of oxygen caused his legs to give out under him. Lance crumpled to the floor like an empty soda can.
“Take him to his cell,” Hildy ordered. “Maybe a few days in there will loosen his tongue.”
The soldier ripped Lance to his feet. At this point, the sensation in his hands was replaced by agonizing pins and needles accompanied with a numbness he’d never felt before. Moving into the hallway, the cadet looked down to see the exit. He quickly counted all the doors. They were spaced far enough apart to hold more than one person. But where was he being taken? He was dragged deeper into the facility. As his leg strength returned, the cadet assisted by walking as best he could.
On his way back, he caught a glimpse of a boarded-up window. The planks looked rotted away and a steady breeze would make them fall. Being brought into a larger room with two guards and narrow doors lining the walls, Lance sniffed the air.
“Well, at least someone’s been working with upkeep. Is that fresh paint I smell?” Lance asked.
He was dragged to one of the doors and it was ripped open. The waft of paint fumes surged from the room. Inside, the walls were a bright, neon pink. Lance chuckled as he was cut free then thrown in and the door slammed shut. Darkness overtook him with the only light provided by the crack under the door.
“You know, if you want to torture me with color, it’s best to have a light on!” Lance yelled as he felt around for the room’s dimensions.
To his best guess, the room was barely two feet wide and three feet long. Reaching up, he had an inch, maybe two of clearance for his head. Lance pulled his shirt off as he sat down and covered his nose and mouth while trying to get his face as close to the fresh air supply as possible. He sat in silence for what felt like hours. Just as he was about to fall asleep, a speaker in his room turned on and started playing music so loudly, it almost made Lance’s ears ring.
“Way-hay, up she rises,
Way-hay, up she rises,
Way-hay, up she rises,
Early in the morning.
Way-hay, up she rises,
Way-hay, up she rises,
Way-hay, up she rises,
Early in the morning.”
It was the shanty Foltur made them sing, but only those four lines on repeat. Lance tried to get some sleep, but over the course of who knew how long, he managed to only sleep for thirty, maybe forty minutes he guessed. His body ached as the sensation of ants crawling under his skin itched his entire body. Not from claustrophobia, but a desire to get out.
His stomach growled as hunger gripped him, its pain largely numbed by a mix of fumes and his desire to be free. A tray slid under the door. A piece of bread and some sludge that could only be considered radioactive waste was on the plate. Lance didn’t care; he pulled down his shirt and scarfed down the tasteless food like a ravenous dog. Finally, the music cut out long enough for the sleep-deprived cadet to hear the call in sound Foltur told them about.
“At least some of you would’ve escaped,” he muttered to himself before seeing a pair of boots move toward his door.
Lance stood up. He grabbed the tray and held it tight as the lock to his cage clicked open.
Thirty-Six
The Great Escape
Escape, no matter what happens, try and get out! Lance told himself as the door creaked open.
The cadet threw his shoulder into the door, sending it flying open and slamming against the wall. The explosive exit from his room sent the guard opening it reeling back.
CLANG!
Lance slammed the tray against the guard’s head, causing the soldier to hit the ground. A second guard charged at him from a few feet away while a third, near the main door, lifted his rifle.
Lance slung his tray at the furthest guard. With another clatter, it skipped right off the top of his rifle and slammed into his forehead, causing him to reel backward. The cadet planted his feet, facing the charging guard. Using his boxing, he put every ounce of strength he could muster into his punch.
CRACK!
The guard’s head whipped to one side, and his eyes rolled back as his unconscious body hit the ground. Lance picked up the unconscious soldier’s rifle and pointed it at the first guard before he could recover.
“Drop your weapon!” he ordered.
The guard lifted his hands and dropped his rifle. Lance pointed toward the side arm.
“The hand gun and multi-tool as well!” he barked.
The guard obeyed. Movement near the main door caught Lance’s attention. He spun to see the furthest guard trying to get to his feet. In the blink of an eye, the cadet spun and fired. A yellow splat of paint burst on the guard’s chest. He turned back around to the first soldier and pulled him to his feet.
“I’ve got one question for you.” Lance said as he walked the guard to his cell.
“I’m not telling you a thing,” the guard sneered.
“That’s too bad. I was always curious about what you do with a drunken sailor?” Lance asked before throwing the guard into the room and shutting the door.
The door locked as soon as it shut. Lance lifted the rifle and turned around; he aimed it at the main door as he picked up the pistol and multi-tool and grabbed the unconscious soldier. Maintaining his air, he dragged the guard to a room and shoved him in before taking the “dead” guard and stuffing him in the room with his unconscious friend and shutting them in.
Lance hugged the wall. His heart raced and fatigue pulled at him, begging him to lie down or find food. Adrenaline and his sheer force of will held his desires in check. Reaching the main door, his hand started to cramp. Supporting the gun with his free hand, he shook out his trigger finger and worked out the cramp.
Sliding the gun’s barrel into the door crack, he slowly opened it. Being sure to pie the corners, he cleared the hallway before pressing forward. He passed several cells, all of which were empty. Pausing outside of the water boarding chamber, he listened carefully to hear someone coughing and weeping.
Lance squared himself up to the door. He took several deep breaths, calming his racing heart. His stomach gurgled, unsated by the meal he was given.
“Between a breath and a heartbeat is where you’re most deadly,” he whispered to himself.
Taking a deep breath, Lance pulled the door open. Stepping in, he identified three enemy combatants: two were armed, one was Hildy.
POPPOP!
Yellow spurts of paint erupted on both guards. They fell to the ground. Lance pointed his rifle at Hildy’s forehead as she turned to attack him. She froze in place.
“Now, Hildy, I know we had some good times together in here, but would you mind cutting my boy free, please?”
With a growl, she started to turn away from him.
“AH-AH!” he shouted. “You stay facing me!”
Reluctantly, she moved to the far side of the table. Unstrapping the cadet, she pulled the towel off his face, revealing Curtis. Joy jumped within Lance to see a familiar face again. In that split second, Hildy vaulted the table.
Lance turned his weapon toward her and squeezed the trigger. A spatter of yellow paint erupted from her forehead. She fell to the ground, holding her face.
“För jävla skull! var du tvungen att skjuta mig i ansiktet?” she roared. Lance’s heart skipped a beat as a smile beamed on his face.
“Åh du talar svenska? Min far var stationerad i Stockholm i fyra år!” he replied in her native tongue before patting her shoulder. “Ledsen för ansiktet.”
Lance walked over to Curtis and helped him off the table.
“What was that?” the cadet asked as he grabbed the weapon of one of the playing dead guards.
“My dad was stationed in Sweden for a few years when I was growing up,” Lance replied as he approached the door once more. “I had to learn the language for class. I haven’t heard it in years, I kind of feel bad for shooting her now.”
Curtis formed up behind him on the door. With a pat on his shoulder, Lance stepped into the hallway with his classmate right behind him.
“Where are the others?” Lance asked with a whisper.
“I don’t know. I was captured the second day. Amy was scavenging when they caught me,” he replied. “That was almost two days ago. When’d they get you?”
“First full day,” Lance replied as he realized he’d been locked up for three days now. “They brought out the dogs and I was bait so Justin could get away.”
With a creak, the end door opened. Curtis jumped to the other side of the hall and pressed up against the wall. Both men knelt, keeping their rifles aimed forward. Lance’s eyes adjusted to the light. The rest of the class was being escorted into the building.
Lance squeezed the trigger. One of the guards went down. Curtis fired. Another fell. A third gunshot rang through the building. Amy let out a shout of pain as she fell to her knees. Jackson stood behind her with his pistol drawn. With his free hand, he pulled Justin forward and placed the gun against his temple.
