The Last of the Firsts

by G J Ogden

  Summer took the lead with Yuna and Ethan brought up the rear, carefully watching the hermit, who seemed to be growing increasingly anxious. The route through the trees wasn’t easy, and Ethan wondered whether approaching more directly along the shore-line would have got them closer. He decided that turning back would be equally as challenging as moving forward, so he pressed ahead.

  Summer stepped on a branch and the sharp crack sent a small flock of birds into the sky. Everyone stopped to watch, transfixed by the sight of so many living birds, which were as rare as pearls in oysters. Then there was another sound of wood snapping underfoot and Ethan felt a chill trickle down his spine; none of their group had yet to take another step forward. He spun around to cover the rear, peering through the undergrowth, trying to spot whatever could have made the sound, but saw nothing. Summer let out a muted but sharp whistle, and Ethan turned back to face her.

  “Up ahead,” she whispered, bow string pulled taught. “A hundred meters, maybe less. We must get out of these trees.”

  Ethan nodded and waved her on, then tapped Gaia on the shoulder. She was standing close beside the hermit.

  “Gaia, we need to move fast, but don’t lose the group. If we stop, you stop, understood?”

  Gaia nodded in short hurried bursts and then followed close behind Ethan, with the hermit at her side.

  Summer replaced the arrow in her quiver and slung the bow over her shoulder; the trees had become too tightly packed to make archery an effective form of attack. Instead, she drew her ranger’s short-staff and bounded through the trees, keeping several meters ahead of Yuna. Soon she had reached the edge of the narrow woodland, and had a clear view of the laboratory building ahead; the terrain between them and the building was relatively flat, but the long, wiry grasses would make running arduous, even for the sprightly hermit.

  Summer smashed through a web of overgrown branches and weeds using the short staff and broke through into the grasslands. She turned back to check on the others, but then caught sight of a figure out of the corner of her eye, crouched low and waiting, a thick, gnarled tree branch clutched between its blackened fingers. She had only a fraction of a second to react before the roamer darted forwards and swung the crude club at her head, but it was a wild and ungainly attack, which Summer parried with relative ease. She backed away from the roamer and shouted a warning towards the others, while keeping her eyes firmly locked onto her attacker. The figure was still recognizably a woman, but its weathered and torn clothes and the pale, oily skin that clung to its gaunt face was indicative of a roamer in the advanced stages of the Maddening. It lunged again, but Summer dodged and brought the short-staff swiftly down across the roamer’s face, feeling the cheek bones collapse from the impact with a nauseating crunch. Yuna rushed out in time to see the roamer fall, but then a second raced towards them both from out of the tree line several meters further back from where the first had been hiding. Yuna fired a single, expertly-aimed bolt into its chest, which stopped the roamer mid-charge, as if it had run into an invisible barrier. It toppled forward and lay on the grass, quivering.

  Gaia and the hermit emerged next and Ethan steered them behind Yuna. The hermit no longer looked anxious; instead his face wore a mask of gritty determination.

  “That won’t be the last of them, lad,” the hermit announced, fixing Ethan with a funereal stare. “Check along the river bank. We must move quickly; more will come.”

  Ethan glanced at Summer, who immediately ran ahead onto a low knoll to get a better vantage down towards the river bank, spotting six more roamers stalking towards their position. She stowed the short-staff and unhooked the bow from around her neck.

  “Ethan, get them into the building,” Summer said, her tone confident and assured. “Yuna and I will hold them off.”

  Ethan recognized the determination in her voice and the matching fire burning in her eyes and, despite the impending danger, he smiled. This was the Summer of old; the fearless force of nature that stood before the storm and beckoned it on. He called to Gaia and the hermit to run for the laboratory as fast as they could, and then he followed behind, staying alert to any other threats.

  Summer planted her feet firmly into the soft earth of the knoll and nocked an arrow. Yuna appeared by her side and raised the bolt-thrower.

  “Save that until they get closer,” said Summer, while keeping her eyes fixed on the approaching roamers.

  “Are you sure?” Yuna said, suddenly aware of how exposed they were, and how they were also outnumbered by at least three to one.

  Summer didn’t answer, but raised the bow, took a breath and held it, then let the arrow fly. Yuna watched as it sailed through the air in a shallow arc and thudded into the eye socket of the nearest roamer. Yuna lowered her bolt-thrower and watched in amazement as Summer drew again and impaled an arrow into the next roamer’s chest, and then shot for a third time in rapid succession, piercing the arrow into the following roamer’s abdomen.

  “I can leave some for you, if you want?” said Summer, glancing down at Yuna with a wry smile.

  “No, no, just keep doing what you’re doing!” said Yuna, as Summer fired again, this time impaling the roamer through the throat. Yuna winced and grimaced as it fell, spurting blood like a leaking water skin. Then the smile fell from Summer’s face.

  “What is it?” asked Yuna gravely.

  “We need to go, now!” cried Summer, running down off the mound. Yuna darted across to where Summer had been standing and peered towards the shore; instead of the two roamers she had expected to see, there were now at least a dozen, all charging towards her. She stood, dumbstruck, rooted to the spot by fear.

  “Yuna!”

  The cry brought her to her senses, and she stumbled off the mound, nearly falling, and then fled for her life, her heart pounding in her chest like a beating drum. Ahead of her, less than twenty meters from the laboratory building, Summer slid to a stop and spun around, drawing another arrow. Yuna hesitated and slowed, wondering if she should also turn and face their attackers, but Summer dispelled her doubt.

  “No, keep going, go!” Summer screamed before launching the arrow into the gut of a roamer that had broken over the crest of the knoll. Yuna continued on, but then glanced back nervously, knowing that Summer couldn’t possibly face them all alone.

  “Get to the building!” shouted Summer, nocking another arrow and leading the target. “Cover me when you get there!”

  Yuna glanced in the direction that Summer was aiming and saw two more roamers, closing fast; faster than she could possibly run, but she ran anyway and didn’t look back.

  Summer let the arrow fly, striking the first of their two pursuers in the leg; it fell and tumbled, but then continued to drag itself forward. She drew another arrow, but the frightening pace of the second enemy meant it was already almost on top of her, and there was neither the time nor range to fire. Instead, she pressed her heels into the dirt and let the roamer charge, thrusting the blade of the arrow through its esophagus like a spear. Summer didn’t even have time to blink before the dying creature collided with her, and she was flung backwards. She tumbled head over feet for several meters, but the dense, sinewy grasses cushioned her fall so that it was no more painful then rolling in hay.

  She rose up, grabbed the bow which had landed by her side, hooking it over her shoulder, and sprinted for the laboratory building, where Yuna and Ethan stood waiting beside an open doorway, frantically waving her on. She saw Yuna raise the bolt-thrower as if aiming directly at her, and jinked to the side to get out of the line of fire. The pneumatic thud of the weapon rang and she heard the garbled, guttural growls of impaled roamers falling at her flanks.

  “Look out!” Yuna cried, and Summer spun around to see a figure lunging towards her, hands outstretched to her throat. She caught the creature’s wrists and wrestled it to the ground, feeling its thorny fingers scrape against her face and head. Shifting her weight forward, she pressed her knee into its neck, drew her knife and sunk the blade
into its chest, pulling down savagely to slice through its gray flesh.

  Leaving the creature prone, she sprang back to her feet and turned as yet another advanced, but this was less warped and maddened than the others. It crept forward, peering at Summer with the semi-human intelligence still contained within its addled brain. Summer backed away, glancing sharply behind to get her bearings to the door.

  “Summer, hurry!” she heard someone shout, and the roamer darted forward, but Summer slashed the blade across its forearm, forcing it back, howling with fury. She backpedaled faster and felt her boots land on the solid, manufactured paths surrounding the laboratory building. She chanced another look behind to make sure she was still on course and saw Ethan holding the door open, his eyes fretful. The momentary distraction gave the roamer another opening and it struck Summer across the face, scraping a bloody smear across her cheek. Summer roared, but with rage not pain, and then caught her assailant’s arm, twisting it to add pressure to the shoulder and elbow, leaving its chest and throat exposed. It scowled and tried unsuccessfully to break free, growling with an animalistic savagery, but the eyes staring back at it possessed a matching ferocity. Summer drove her dagger into its throat and pushed until the blade was fully submerged into its flesh, all the time screaming at the top of her lungs. If Ethan had not seen it with his own eyes and heard it with his own ears, he would have assumed it to be the cry of one of the maddened.

  Summer kicked the body away contemptuously, leaving the knife in its throat, and peered back towards the knoll. Yet more roamers broke over the crest and began charging towards her, and even in Summer’s rage-fueled frenzy, her instincts told her that the odds were too great. She turned and sprinted for the door with the enemies gaining rapidly, and then cannoned off the metal frame and landed heavily inside the threshold as Ethan hauled the slab of metal shut. Yuna dashed forward and activated the lock using a data pad jacked into the door controls and a second later the bodies of their pursuers crashed into the other side and began to pummel against the thick metal in a futile attempt to break in. Everyone backed away from the door, while Summer picked herself up off the floor and smacked the dust from her clothes, her eyes still burning brightly.

  “Remind me never to pick a fight with you, young Summer!” said the hermit, cheerfully. And despite the rage still burning in her gut, Summer laughed.

  Chapter 25

  Summer massaged her bruised shoulder, which was smarting from the impact with the door, and nonchalantly wiped the bloody smear from her face with the sleeve of her tunic, adding another dark red stain to the already sizable collection that blotted her ranger’s clothing.

  “That was a close one!” the hermit said, beaming. “And from someone who has had some pretty close shaves, that’s saying something!”

  Summer smiled, “I’m glad you’re amused, old man.”

  “You have to laugh, young Summer, otherwise you’d go mad.” Then he winked at her. “Some say I already have…”

  “If I might be the voice of reason…” Gaia interjected. “This corridor seems damp, as if there has been water ingress, perhaps even recently.”

  “Water in-what?” said the hermit, cocking an eyebrow.

  Ethan nodded to Gaia. “She means that if water can get in here, then maybe those things can too.”

  “Or perhaps they already have,” added Gaia, somberly. “I share your relief at us making it this far, but I suggest we remain vigilant.”

  Gaia’s warning had the desired effect of clearing everyone’s heads and concentrating minds back on the task at hand. Ethan drew his knife, flipped it so that the handle was facing outwards and offered it to Summer.

  “Here, I think you lost yours somewhere inside that last roamer’s throat.”

  Summer took it, inspected it as a connoisseur might inspect a priceless work of art, and then held it at her side. “Thanks, I always did like this.”

  “I’ve retrieved that knife from things far viler than your disgusting friend out there,” said Ethan, “and I expect you to do the same, should you decide to impale anything else.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t lose it,” said Summer, in the resigned tone of someone being nagged, and then with an almost imperceptible smirk, added, “but I might not give it back to you, either.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes and then lifted the bolt-thrower to a low ready position.

  “I suggest I take the lead, with Yuna covering the rear. Gaia, I don’t suppose you can suggest where in this place we might find the equipment you need?”

  Gaia appeared to be squinting, as if concentrating on a faraway object.

  “I’d say we should follow this corridor and take the next right, and then we go left and up to the first floor. Head along the corridor and take the second right, and we reach the genomic medicine laboratory. I should be able to find what I need in there.”

  Everyone looked suitably astounded, besides the hermit, who simply appeared curious. “And how exactly do you know that, lass? I thought I was the ancient one, but it sounds to me like you used to work here!”

  Gaia smiled and pointed to an illustration on the wall. “I just looked at the map.”

  Everyone turned to look at the faded layout diagram on the wall behind them.

  “We need brains and brawn on this endeavor, and thankfully, I brought the former,” Gaia added, smiling.

  The hermit laughed. “Well, that’s handy, lass, because I have neither!”

  Ethan slipped between them and moved to the front, “Excuse me, brawn coming through…”

  They followed the route described by Gaia, but as they moved further into the internal sections, the corridors darkened and so did the mood of the group. They moved in silence, punctuated only by the clack of their boots on the hard floor and the eerie drip, drip, drip of water leaking in from some invisible location ahead. Ethan reached the stairs and began to ascend, followed a few paces behind by Yuna who carried her powerful bolt-thrower raised at waist level. Ethan arched his neck to peer out into the wide, open corridor at the top of the stairs, which was bordered on either side by floor-to-ceiling glass-walled workspaces, filled with a diverse range of equipment. There was more light on this level, flowing in from the glass outer-walls, but the material was heavily tinted and so it was no brighter than a cloudy winter morning when the sun had just peeked over the horizon.

  Ethan reached the top and carefully swept the barrel of his bolt-thrower up and down the length of the corridor and into the laboratory spaces immediately to his sides, but he could see nothing but dusty old equipment. Yuna was close behind; she met Ethan’s eyes briefly and was comforted by the reassuring nod she received in return. They waited until Gaia, the hermit and finally Summer had finished climbing the stairs and then Ethan pointed his finger into the gloom, indicating the direction in which they needed to go.

  The silence was almost painful, but half-way along the corridor Ethan heard a sharp sound, which was more penetrating in his ears than a hundred shattering plates. He stopped and held up a hand to the others.

  “What’s up?” whispered Yuna.

  “I heard something. I don’t know what. Cover me, while I check it out.”

  “Be careful Ethan!” urged Yuna in a hushed voice, as Ethan slipped ahead, raising the bolt-thrower to chest level and placing his finger on the trigger.

  Ethan stayed close to the wall and moved up to the junction where Gaia had said for them to turn right. His steps were slow and measured, but his heart was beating like he’d just sprinted from one side of Forest Gate to the other. He stopped at the junction and pressed himself back against the glass wall, before carefully peering around the corner; what he saw made his pulse accelerate further. Huddled in the darkness, as immobile as rocks, were two figures. A narrow column of light shone in from a fracture in the ceiling and was reflected in the inky black eyes of the closest figure. Even if Ethan could have made out nothing else about them, this alone was enough to confirm his fears that they were both maddened
. He drew back and peered over towards Yuna, who had dropped to a crouching position to cover him. When he knew she was watching, he held up two fingers and then pointed towards the corridor.

  Yuna nodded and stood, getting ready to attack, but she had taken no more than two steps forward before the glass wall behind Ethan shattered, and blackened hands grasped his shoulders, dragging him through the shower of thick glass fragments and into the darkness of the space beyond.

  Ethan let go of the bolt-thrower, which dropped heavily to the solid floor, snapping into two equal pieces, and instinctively reached up to grab his attacker’s cold, bony hands as they closed around his neck. He flailed and twisted, but couldn’t break free, then he was thrown to the side as easily as a discarded apple core. He felt himself weightless for a split second before crashing into a row of cabinets. Dazed and disorientated, he got to his feet and found himself staring into the dead eyes of one of the maddened; eyes that he had only seen this close once before. Terrified, he reached for his knife, but it wasn’t there. Outside of the room he could hear shouts and screams and the powerful pneumatic thud of a bolt-thrower firing. Panicked, he tried to draw his short-staff, but fumbled and struggled to release it from its sheath. The creature charged him, and Ethan flung himself over the top of a desk in a desperate attempt to evade the attack, landing heavily against the outer glass wall, beyond which was the cold, glassy lake.

  He rose, still groggy, and struggled with the short-staff again, finally releasing it as his attacker grabbed the corner of the desk and tossed it to the side as if it weighed nothing. With the familiar feel of the short-staff in his hands, and the adrenalin coursing through his veins, Ethan’s instincts took over. This was not the first time he had faced one of these things, nor the first time he’d had to fight for his life; he knew he had to commit everything to the attack, and show no quarter, or he would be dead in seconds.

  The thing charged towards him, and Ethan met it head-on, striking the staff across its skull and sending it crashing to his side. It rose almost instantly as Ethan swung at it again, but this time it was not deflected, and Ethan was thumped hard in the chest and then pressed back against the opaque wall, with the creature’s claw-like hands closing around his shoulders like a vice. He screamed and grabbed its wrists, trying desperately to break the hold, but the creature was inhumanly strong, and slowly it pulled itself closer so that its oily face was almost touching Ethan’s. Desperation took hold, and Ethan hooked its leg and kicked back with all his strength, sending it onto its back, but still it did not release its hold, pulling Ethan on top of it, and driving the needle-like fingers deeper into his flesh. He scoured the floor for anything he could use as a weapon, and saw a broken and splintered wooden chair leg tantalizingly out of reach. He let go of the enemy’s wrists, allowing it to slip its fingers around his throat, and stretched for the chair leg. He could feel the claw-like nails pressing into his flesh and as the creature’s hold tightened, he managed to grasp the improvised weapon and plunge it into its hideous face. He felt the fingers around his neck loosen, allowing him to draw a deep breath, providing enough fuel to his muscles to drive the wooden shard deeper into its skull, through the eye socket and into the brain, pressing with all his strength and all his weight, until the creature finally lay still. Coughing and wheezing, with all his muscles trembling uncontrollably, he rolled to the side and just lay on his back, staring at the plain grey ceiling tiles of the lab.