The Foliage:Termination (The Foliage Series Book 2)

by Nathan Ward

  “I had no other choice,” Murdock replied, “In a world we now live in it’s kill or be killed - but we wanted to give you a chance, to work things out and be better than this!”

  “Do I look like the kind of guy to want to work things out? I don’t believe in second chances, Captain. You fuck up you die that’s the only way I plan to roll now! If you have your eye on our property you had better kill me and get this over with, kill the man defending his people and steal their food and water.”

  “I am not here to steal,” Murdock repeated, “I want to work something out!”

  “And as I said, not on my watch!” Jordan stated darkly.

  Then he rose to his feet and leveled up to Murdock, glaring in to his deep brown eyes with a look that spoke of no mercy and no sign of holding back - but Murdock had never wanted it to come to this and never expected it to, he had hoped the decapitated head would of been enough of a message to extract a progressive reaction from the leading Captain of the fortress - but now in incredible fear of what he might have to do before the day was out, he knew nothing was going to sway the course of Captain Jordan, who had begun to advance towards Murdock looking fuelled and ready for round two...

  Enrique didn’t know how much further he could carry the body of his victim so once the guards were about to reload, he suddenly dropped the weight of the corpse, it crashed to the ground heavily while Enrique drew his other axe from his thigh holster and dived over the resting body towards the guards who had stumbled in fright, dropping some of their shells and jamming their cartridges in an attempt to reload their weapons faster. But Enrique was a master in the art of killing and had timed his assault perfectly, propelling both of his axes into the chests of two guardsmen who were forced off their feet by the impact, and fell abruptly to the ground. One of the guards successfully armed his weapon and raised it to his chest to take a shot but before he could pull the trigger, Enrique’s fist had slammed into his face, knocking the soldier off his feet.

  Utilizing every opportunity and taking advantage of every passing second, Enrique pulled his trusty blades from the chests of his victims with an almighty yank, tearing chunks of flesh and propelling them in to the air. He used his nimble and sophisticated maneuvers to dance himself around the remaining guards, precision slicing and hacking against them as he ducked and weaved in and out of advancing flurries of fists and feet until he came to a sudden halt, holding the two blades beside his thighs allowing for them to rid themselves of the contaminated crimson that had splattered itself up them as the blood ran freely, draining away from the now well used blades.

  The guardsmen looked on with emotion non existent in their face, stood in an almost slow motion trance waiting for their bodies to give in. Enrique patiently waited as blood slowly began to ooze from along all the precisely cut wounds inflicted by the axe blades:

  Facial flesh had now begun to peel itself away from the soldier’s skulls; they stood glaring at the back of Enrique, unable to move as the crimson clouded their vision and their very own flesh rolled itself away from their bodies and dropped like leaves in the autumn winds on to the concrete ground around them. More and more gradually let go of its grasp and peeled away, detaching itself and once again piling on top of the heap with a grotesque stomach churning squelch. Slowly but surely their bodies had begun to disassemble themselves until the entire group of six had lost complete grasp of their consciousness and collapsed in to the fresh new pool of crimson that had now claimed the high wall as it’s new place of rest, forever bathing the bodies and body parts of lost men and women.

  Enrique relaxed in his stance and allowed for the last of the crimson to trickle and drip off the sharp ends of his axes then fall in to the expanding pool that had now washed along his feet and in to all the cracks and crevasses of the stone walkway.

  This fight had only just begun, he thought to himself as he took a deep refreshing breath of air - he knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as the ones he had previously fought along his treacherous journey, he couldn’t let his guard down, not even for a moment because the community within the fortress walls were still a talking point, if it did exist there could be more soldiers on their way up and Enrique had to be ready for whatever would next emerge out from behind the thick stone walls.

  Captain Jordan unleashed a mighty cry of relief as he flung his fist towards Murdock’s chest, thumping into the padded leather abs and knocking him off his stride. Jordan continued to let rip, attacking Murdock with a flurry of jabs down low and to the face, vicious blows that threw Murdock off balance, so each time he attempted to counter or dodge Jordan’s next move he ended up positioning himself in line for another direct hit.. He still tried to land a punch and counter Jordan’s flurries, occasionally connecting with his bloody displaced nose which was blatantly causing him a world of agony, but it was not enough to keep him back as he still advanced towards Murdock, landing more punches to his head and torso - knowing that no man was invincible, and sooner or later he would start to truly feel the effect of the damage being inflicted.

  The speed that Jordan was moving was like fire chasing along a trail of gasoline, he was all but a blur in Murdock’s sights, he had no idea where the next punch would land from, so using all he had left – the very instinct that had led him this far from the nuclear ridden land, he sprung a powerful uppercut that almost perfectly connected with Jordan’s chin, launching him over the edge of the walkway and sending him into a short lived free fall, followed by a crashing heavy landing into the bushes and foliage that sat directly below them in the corner of the courtyard.

  Then Murdock dropped on to one knee and gazed down at the outline of Jordan’s body that had tumbled out of the greenery and started to reanimate.

  'There’s just no stopping this guy, he’s like a machine,' Murdock thought to himself, realising it hadn’t quite come to the end he had expected.

  Jordan knew he was lucky to be alive and much like Murdock he had begun to question how a man of his caliber existed, no one had ever withstood the brute force he had trained for and managed to pack away for the past few years. The notion seemed completely alien to him, as he took a short lived glare up at the blackened silhouette of Murdock stood on top of the wall, watching as Jordan struggled to find his feet and pull himself up out of the dirt and rubble and in to the dying light of the sun that had now begun to descend behind the hills.

  That warm exotic feeling had returned, reminding Jordan of what could be waiting for him once the hellish phase had come to an end, but the beautiful women were no longer throwing themselves over him, instead they had the look of terror painted upon their faces as they fled from the burning beach. Everyone had begun to scream and spiral out of control, running from the enormous tidal wave that had begun to form swelling up like a mighty wall of water far off at sea, raring towards land that seemed dwarfed by the sheer height of it. Jordan looked on in his dream state as the water rose high in to the sky until it had totally blocked out the sunlight and left a harsh chill upon his face, the dark seas continued to climb until he could no longer see anything but the wall of ocean ripples arching up and over him, casting a dark shadow over the sands.

  This was it, the end of times, would this be when the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken? He saw no son of the Lord ascending from paradise...

  “Have faith...” he muttered.

  It then fell, crashing down on top of him, shattering his bones and propelling him out of his dream state. Jordan’s eyes sprung open in a sudden panic with the sound of the sea washing in and out of his ears. He looked across in the direction of the sun but could now see the outline of the fortress wall blocking the suns rays and casting a chilly shadow upon him. The harsh sound of the sea slowly washed away in to a subtle buzzing noise before finally Jordan snapped back to reality, realizing he could now make out the sound of his wife's cries, echoing up and out of the dungeon. Both Mur
dock and Jordan turned their attention to the direction of the cries in lightning speed and launched themselves in to a frantic energized run towards the opening of the dungeon, both in a synchronized pace as one took the top wall route and the other past the courtyard and through the crumbling hole in the wall.

  Chapter 16: The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend.

  The sun had now fallen into its slumber, allowing darkness to fall and consume the flourished green land, while Enrique stood tall upon the fortress wall and caught a glimpse of his Captain hastily headed down in to the main complex, which was still illuminated by torchlight.

  Murdock thundered his way down the cold, stone corridor - forcing the flames into a flurry as he passed on by. The orange light danced and fluttered, casting deep dark shadows around the stern, battle torn face of Captain Murdock. He had no time to spare a thought beyond then and now, he could only hope that the odds were in his favor and not in Captain Jordan’s who had just arrived at the opening to the dungeon. The hatch had always been left open for easy access and now the fluorescent glow of moonlight that had trembled in through the viewing holes in the wall had cast a soft light against the metal edge of the mouth opening, allowing Jordan to drop down through the hatch and straight into a descending sprint along the large stone steps until he reached the bottom of the dungeon, once again stepping foot into the blood soaked ground, where he glared at what he could only identify as a dangerous female intruder who stood over the cowering body of his wife.

  Sasha had brought Alana to the ground and was positioned on top of her, thrusting her fists in to her cheek bones simultaneously with her trusty rifle neglected and cast aside. She had seen enough violence, but this time it had sparked into life a side of her that she never knew existed - she wanted to see Alana suffer - without even knowing the back story behind the conflict, she just knew that what she was doing was wrong and now not even god could stop her from beating her half to death with the leather that had wrapped around her fiercely clenched fists. Alana’s time was running out and the sands of the hourglass were almost depleted but Jordan stepped in with a moment to spare, treading violently past Joy who had begun to subtly hide away the glistening silver within her palms. He grasped on to the barrel of the crimson soaked rifle, raised it and swung it across the back of Sasha’s head, it connected with a loud crack, knocking her to the side of the stone stairwell, her body rolled and crunched as she hit the wall and fell still, out cold from the collision. Sasha’s head slowly drooped against the foot of the slabs, peacefully planting itself in to the dirt as she settled. A small head wound began to surface from under her skin along the left hand side of her forehead, a deep red streak of crimson crept out and down the side of her resting head. It fell past her cheek to the bottom of her chin until it was finally ready to make the plunge, dropping on to the polluted ground beneath her.

  The rifle dropped from Jordan’s grasp, splashing in to a puddle of crimson beside him. He fell on to one knee and began to pull his wife, Alana out of the blood and the filth and leant her against his leg.

  “Alana, can you hear me?” Jordan cried, holding on to her body with a tight grip, fearing if he let go the life would slide out of her body.

  Her face had begun to deform through all the swelling caused by the force of the punches she had sustained, she was beaten and bruised and barely looked like his wife anymore, but while she could hardly manage to open her eyes , she could just about manage to speak.

  “I’m sorry, my love,” she murmured, drawing in a tight and difficult breath as pain flooded her body. Then slowly she raised her arm and placed her bloody hand against the rough grey stubble of Jordan’s face.

  “I should have listened,” she whispered, gazing in to her lover's eyes as if it was the first time she had set eyes on him all those years ago.

  Jordan had begun to run his hand all over her blood soaked body, wishing his touch had the miracle to heal, but knowing she wouldn’t have long to live being exposed with open wounds to all the disease and dirt, but it didn’t stop him from smiling and meeting her gaze once more, reminding himself of the memories they had shared and the troubles they had fought their way through, together. He knew he had never been the perfect husband, always overlooking his responsibilities, but Alana had stuck with him - through thick and thin, in sickness and in health. It wasn’t until now he finally realized how precious she was to him as she painstakingly inhaled her final breath of air.

  Jordan was fixated on her, unable to look away - reluctant to believe that she had just slipped away from his grasp and in to the afterlife.

  Captain Murdock had silently made his way down into the pit and picked up the rifle which Jordan had dropped to try aid his wife, and now he stood in silence watching over Jordan’s shoulder. He didn’t know what to think, he just hoped that Sasha was going to be okay as he looked over at her body laid against the wall. He could just about make out the rise and fall of her chest, and knowing she was still breathing was for now all he could think on to console himself. But he started to worry deeply as he watched Alana’s hand drop from Jordan's face and land like a dead weight into the pool of crimson beneath her.

  Jordan allowed a single tear to streak his face as he remained still locked in a gaze with the lifeless eyes of his wife, denying reality - unable to process the loss.

  Joy didn’t seem to want to show too much emotion; instead she delicately continued to maneuver the keys behind her back where she could attempt to unlock her shackles while she was no longer under the watchful eye of the Captains.

  Their attention had been so suddenly stolen, this was a situation neither man could ever have predicted they would become locked in - one that had but only one way of being resolved, at least in the mind of the Captains - someone had to be held accountable and both of them knew no matter how far from the front of their mind it was, someone was going to pay with their life, they had created enemies of each other all because they had striven to protect the people they loved, the people they owed a debt to and one thing was certain, neither was going to stand down...

  Captain Jordan carefully laid Alana’s head to rest on the ground of the pit, his eyes had darkened from the deep rage that until now, had been contained within him. He knew Murdock would be standing nearby, but he also half expected him to finish what he set out to do, so while he had oxygen circulating within his lungs he began what could only possibly be the final showdown. Thrusting his arm back at the barrel of the rifle and pushing it away from his body, Murdock immediately dropped it knowing it would only slow him down, Jordan let out a ferocious cry as he launched a series of punches in to Murdock’s chest at an almost impossible rate, leaving Murdock stunned and unable to block, he took the blows remaining on his feet waiting for a chance to counter.

  While the two Captains engaged in one final battle, Joy had discreetly unlocked her shackles and had begun to crawl her way over to Connor who was panicking in the corner, huddled up trying to escape the agonizing cries of pain that Murdock had begun to make while being pounded continuously by the undying rage of a widowed man.

  Everything Jordan had ever lived for had finally been ripped from his grasp and this was the only way he could imagine avenging his wife, by destroying the man he assumed was loved and looked up to by many he had sworn to help.

  If he would have to go on without Alana, if he had to live with utter pain, then so would everyone else, Jordan had decided as he connected to the face and to the stomach, until Murdock felt his legs disappear from underneath him, he collapsed to the soggy ground still trying to defend himself, raising his arms at every punch, but they still managed to find their way past, pounding against his body which had now become numb to the constant continuous beating.

  Jordan used one hand to clench on to Murdock’s leather uniform and pull his body up from the bed of crimson and launched his other hand like a rocket smashing into his jaw, one jab after another until his face started to swell and blood gushed like water leaking from a cra
cked bottle. The man was no longer conscious but still Jordan continued to pound away like a machine that was unable to shut itself down. He had become a machine that ran on pure rage and the need for vengeance. He couldn’t stop, even though he was holding on to his enemies lifeless body, his vision was clouded by the images of Alana and the happiness she brought him, knowing her heart had fallen silent and would never beat again only fuelled him to hit harder in to the sack of meat, which is all it had become, a sack of lifeless bleeding meat...

  He knew he ought to stop, even as he felt a cold sharp blade push against his neck, he was hesitant, taking one last punch at Murdock’s mutilated face and then letting go of him. His body crashed in to the pool of crimson that had formed behind him.

  Enrique was shaken at the sight of his Captain’s face, but kept a firm grip to his blades that he had wrapped around the neck of Captain Jordan, who had finally come to a stand still.

  “It’s over,” said Enrique as he stood over Jordan’s trembling body, with adrenaline raging through him. He turned his head ever so slightly and looked up at Enrique.

  “You win, my friend,” Jordan agreed as he felt every part of his body sag with exhaustion.

  Enrique didn’t quite know how to respond or what to do next, so he did what he has always been good at and allowed his heart to lead the way, he locked his gaze with Jordan and in a heartbeat could see the emptiness that dwelt deep in his eyes, he was now a completely broken man and there was no way his spirit would ever return – so being a man of compassion, Enrique said one word:

  “Leave.”

  And he did.

  Captain Jordan pulled himself over to the body of his wife and slowly began to lift her from the ground, holding on to her carefully, as even in death she still meant the world to him.