Chapter 10: The Lure. (Patreon)

Chapter 10: The Lure.

Another few hours saw me thoroughly humbled. Not that it was bad thing mind you. I was happy for my fellow survivors. This was a step we could all take together.

‘Yes. This is fine.’ I kept telling myself. Glancing at the message carved into the stone wall. Well, it wasn’t really carved so much as it punched into the wall. Probably by a witty Enhancer, though a bulky Shifter or telekinetic Projector was just as likely.

The craters followed one another so that they made patterns, saying things like:

“Water on the left. Up the Stairs.”

“Pitfall down the right hall.”

“Don’t touch the big red flowers.”

“Don’t follow the singing.”

“Vertical shaft straight ahead.”

“Large open area after the second hole.”

“Don’t trust gnomes.”

“Kill gnomes.”

“Kill gnomes.”

“Kill gnomes.”

“Yellow Dotted mushrooms not poisonous.”  

“This is all the fault of the Andromedin Wasp empire. The aliens use human Telepaths. Kill Telepaths.”

“Do not believe these lies!” Yes, there had been an exclamation mark carved out too.

These were also much bigger than the rest. The imprint of the fists resembling ogres rather than humans.

“We will defend the Shepherd’s honor! Kill the traitors to humanity!”

Some weren’t written in English so I had no idea what they said, but those words I could make out were, for the most part, very useful. Except those last few of course. I had a feeling that whomever wrote them wouldn’t be down for a mutually beneficial partnership any time soon. Nonetheless, it was positive change for everyone. Information sharing would help all of us down the line and it was possible that I could learn things I hadn’t know before.

My own illusions faded with time, thought they were bright and eye catching. This, more permanent solution was as brilliant as it was simple.

‘So, why do I feel so angry?’

Perhaps it was the very pointed lack of the aforementioned edible mushrooms mentioned in the message. If they were truly safe for consumption, everyone and their mother would have picked more than they needed. Wary of running out later on.

Perhaps it was the ridiculous slander, claiming that I was somehow to blame for all this. That I was an agent of an alien empire, in the fashion of a cheap 80’s thriller.

Perhaps it was the realization that I was horribly disadvantaged in comparison to everyone else.

‘Yes. That does sting. I used to be a sucker for documentaries and interviews. I know more about Enhancer and Shifter training regiments than most of my friends and those were for Espers who couldn’t grow in power. I could have been unstoppable with a different Type. I could have been a hero, saving everyone I came across. Smashing centipedes and eels left and right. Building a proper group that could handle whatever the freaks running the show cared to throw at us.’ 

Instead, I was Telepath. Reviled and despised, even by confessed murderers.

“What did I do to deserve this, I wonder? Is reincarnation real? Was I some gang boss or tyrant in a previous life? One of those people that kick puppies and kittens for fun?”

No one answered. No one save the centipedes dotted around my fog, who were skittering about randomly up walls and into crevices.

I sighed, trying to push my jealousy aside and kept moving forward. Following the indicated route to a new watering hole. Inside was a small swift stream flowing from a metal grate in the ceiling of the right wall and down another grate at the far side of the room. A few boulders had been…

Moulded? I guess?

Or sliced with claws into the desired shapes.

Doesn’t matter. They were chairs now. With modest, uneven bumps for armrests and lumbar support. I checked my fog one more time to make sure there wasn’t anyone here and then proceeded to sit down.

“Warm. There was someone here not too long ago.”

That was interesting.

I had thought everyone else would be trying to escape too. That’s what you did, when some unknown party kidnapped you in the night. Making yourself comfortable didn’t make sense.

‘That is, if they were kidnapped. If someone other than my fellow victims carved this seat…’

The notion was disquieting. So much so that I resolved to keep moving, rather than stay and try to talk my way into a friend. Maybe rushing to conclusions wasn’t the smartest idea right now. Maybe the paranoia came from my encounter with shotgun lady or the pair in the clearing.

For all I knew, this was the work of another fan of Thunder Fist, giddy about the chance to become a high-ranked Esper and willing to take the chance training down here instead of focusing on escaping.

It was possible.

‘But, am I willing to bet my life on it?’

No. I wasn’t.

If my days here had taught me anything it was that the proverbial deck was stacked against me. Someone like Mason might be able to endure being raked by monsters with his empowered physique and Shifters might be able to undo the damage altogether.

What would be a glancing blow to them would turn me into a red smear on the walls. It wasn’t fair, but why would some shadowy organization care about fairness?

Sighing once more, I went to have a drink before moving onwards. Only then did I see the body behind the chair.

“AaAaaAouooo…” It moaned. Barely able to move air through its crushed chest.

‘No. Not it. Him. This is a person!’ I realized with mounting horror.

The little body suggested a child, but the white beard suggested a grown man. The hairs on it were stained with blackened blood, twisted and clumped together. They clung feebly to the sad remains of a green shirt with golden buttons.

His right arm was missing at the shoulder and his left was twisted at awkward angles. His legs had been broken at the knee and puncture wounds resembling large needles ran along their length. His eyes were missing entirely. A conical red hat clung to his scalp.

“Holy cow! Are you okay!?” I said stupidly. My mind unable to keep up.

I couldn’t think straight. Panic holding me down, making me stupid and clumsy. My throat had dried out in seconds. My veins were on fire. My heart was a blaring siren. My hearing failed, as all the surrounding sounds faded to the background.

“AAAAAaaaaaaouoaaa…” He answered. At the same time, the sad remains of his left hand tried to move, to grasp or make a gesture. His head turned towards me with great difficulty, empty sockets leaning towards my voice.

He moaned again, louder, while still trying to bring up his left arm.

He looked so close to death, that I did not dare touch him. Too afraid of breaking him like an expensive vase.

‘Is this what Doris looked like, back in the forest? Were her final moments like this? Spent alone, shivering in the darkness? Asking for help?’

I could feel bitter tears starting to form in the corners of my eyes at that thought.

Some force wrapped me in tightly wound strings and dragged me deeper into despair. Into the past.

The cheating and the subsequent breakup had been painful at the moment, and the barbs it had left behind had only grown sharper and more vicious. Made all the worse by the knowledge that it had killed her.

“You never want to do anything exciting.” She’d complained. “Mason is always ready for adventure. Always showing me new things. He took me to see the response team clearing out the monsters in the forest. We even got past the barricades. He flashed his badge and they let us through.”

So, they had. Once in late February, when a dozen other response teams were subjugating a C-rank monster in some parking lot and a second time, when three smaller rifts burst in the forest near campus.

It had been dark that night. Mason had said, the beasts were hazy. Partly incorporeal while still possessing razor-sharp claws. A larger pack had eviscerated two of the weaker responding Espers and their police backup. The great fool walked away with grisly scars along his neck, back and thighs. Living only thanks to being a D-ranker himself and even then, it was a close thing.

Doris had not been so fortunate. The scraps of meat were only identified by the earrings she’d been wearing. Her widowed father had been her only living relative. He’d tried to punch Mason at the funeral. Screaming in a fit of rage or madness. Mason had retaliated.

The grieving man was still eating through a straw the last time I saw him. We’d spoken a few times before that, and he’d always seemed an amiable codger. Full of life, despite losing his wife and sons to the original outbreak. The creature in the hospital bed hardly resembled him. Eyes sunken in and devoid of light, barely responding to my voice. A corpse in all but name.

For his part in the assault of a baseline person and bringing another baseline person into a quarantined zone, Mason received 3 years of docked wages from his extermination duties, as well as 50 hours of community service. He’d had the gall to appeal, thought that judgement was still pending.

For my part, I could not even summon the energy to get angry. After all, what was the point? What could I do? Yes, Mason had been complicit in her death, but she’d chosen to go with him. She’d even looked forward to it. Bragging to our remaining mutual friends about how brave her dear Mike had been. How strong and fast he was. How his steps cracked the earth when he lunged towards rift-spawn. How he skirted the rules for her sake.

Those very same friends had laughed alongside her when she was alive. Congratulating her and saying how lucky she’d been to snag him up. The hags had not even had the decency to show up when what was left of Doris was cremated. Nor did any raise concerns when her father was punted into a brick wall.

Instead, they wore black for a few days and recorded videos on various platforms, talking about how much they’d loved Doris. How they’d known it was a bad idea to go near active rifts. Perhaps I should have said something then. Screamed at them about their hypocrisy.

No. There wouldn’t have been any point to it. I was feeling like a sack of manure as it was. Social suicide wouldn’t have helped matters. It was done, and nothing I could do would make it better. Nothing could right this wrong.

“I’m sorry.” I said, unable to think of anything else. “I’m sorry. I can’t do anything for you. I’m sorry this happened to you. I don’t know how to help.”

My fists were clenched tightly now. Memories of first-aid seminars came back all at once, but they proved unhelpful.

‘Am I supposed to do chest compressions? His chest’s caved in! How is tourniquet supposed to help, when His freaking arm is missing!?’

The little man, was still moaning, despite the hideous wounds. Still fighting against his fate.

‘Is he begging me to save him? Or is he begging for the pain to end?’

The latter might be possible, if I could bring myself to do what was necessary. There were plenty of heavy rocks here. Any one of them could put an end to the suffering.

“No. I…I can’t do it. I don’t have it in me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I wish I could help, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“You’d be sorrier if that gnome was real.” Said a voice behind me.

I flinched and fell forward. Horrified that I hadn’t felt anything through my fog.

‘Wait a second. The man. I can’t feel his mind either.’

With a sudden rush of adrenaline, I realized that my hand had fallen into him. Into the image of him. My fingers moved and felt empty air, where the heaving chest was supposed to be.

“An illusion.” I realized with a start. “But how? Its moving!”

“Seems to me like someone hasn’t been diligent in their training.” Said the voice once more. “Though I guess you could be forgiven for that if you just became a mage.”

This time, I turned around to face it and found a bush where a person should have been. Pink vines and fronds of the same kind that had poisoned me on my first day acted as armor, with big red flowers as pauldrons and shin guards. The rest was all a tangle of long cylindrical tentacles laden with teeth and cactus needles, with the cleaned skull of a dog or wolf at its center.

“Nice to see a fellow heretic.” The bush said. “Even a slow and stupid one. Though you do look lovely when you cry. The witch hunters would have enjoyed you. They live for a good begging.”

“Now now Helga. That’s no way to treat a guest.” A raspy voice behind her chided. Its pronunciation was off. Containing the clicking of mandibles between some vowels.

Soon, the figure revealed themselves from behind its corpulent companion. It was a mantis, with two thick legs and four gleaming scythes instead of arms. Much bigger than the last time we’d met.

“You!” I shouted immediately. “You were there! The first day!”

The thing’s compound eyes did not move, though its head tilted at an awkward angle.

“Ah, you were the fellow who came running out.” It seemed to laugh, though its appearance was so alien I couldn’t say whether it was from joy or derision.

“You gave me quite the scare. I almost pooped my pants.”

“You have no pants.” Said the shrub, in a voice tinged with disapproval and exasperation.

“Not right now. I’d like to get some though.” It clacked it mandibles faster, as if using them as a sign of good humour.

“You there. New blood. Where did you get those?”

“None of your damn business.” I answered before I could stop myself. My heart was still pounding from the stress of the fake body and from the news that my fog wasn’t anywhere near as reliable as I’d imagined.

Not to mention the rage. The boiling tar running through my veins at the realization that I’d been made to relive Doris’ death by some Telepath ability. In a span of seconds, I’d been put back there with the crabs again. The tall man leering as he toyed with people as if they were dolls.

My whole being felt violated. I wanted revenge.

A deep breath brought me back from the brink and another urged me further back. Thoughts of Henry and Vince and Luigi. Of mom and dad.

‘Calm yourself. This might be a chance. An opportunity to form a team. To finally have someone watching my back. Who would be better than another Telepath? They even have a friend already.’

Their next words put an end to that hope however.

“Feisty. I like that in a victim.” The bush chuckled. “Too bad for you, none of the gnomes we killed have clothes that fit us and I never picked up sewing. Strip. I don’t want to have to clean bloodstains out of my new pants.”

“Hey! I want those pants!” The mantis protested.

‘Okay. Wow. Don’t lose your head Solomon. This can still be salvaged. Positive thoughts now. Positive thoughts.’

“You can have the pants.” I said with reluctance. “If you let me join you. I can be useful.”

The mantis nodded their head sagely.

“Glad to see you’re not completely stupid lad. Have no fear. Me and Helga have been through worse. We’ll be stronger together.”

He was edging closer when several smooth vines came to life and wrapped themselves around his torso.

“No.” Helga said.

“No?” He asked, confused.

“No. I will not have this mage with us. I can trust anyone I can read, but he’s closed off to me.”

“So? He’s weak enough to fall for the lure and he can’t be that smart if he didn’t scout out the room before entering. What’s the harm?”

The huge tangle of plants seemed to shrug.

“Call it my personal judgement. I almost never see people I can’t glimpse. Something seems fishy.”

“Oh, come now. Have you seen the things that crawl around here? I mean, you know I’m no coward, but even I’m starting to sweat a little in between fights. More people mean better odds. It’s not like he’s working for your father. Or the Inquisition.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t betray us in the middle of a battle.”

I cleared my throat.

“Um, if I can a word in for just a second. I’m totally on board with your friend here. I’m sure we can put aside any differences we might have if it means forming a group. Humans are supposed to stick together. We’re always stronger in numbers. My presence, or your, could be the difference between life or death. The request for pants it… odd. But its not a dealbreaker when my life is on the line.”

I saw the mantis guy nodding, so pushed my argument further.

“Yes, you’re right that it’s a risky proposition. I could betray you. But that would be a singularly stupid thing to do on my part. He’s obviously a Shifter. Which means he can heal. Having him around is akin to having three or four extra lives. You’d have to be (Centipede)ing braindead to stay alone in this situation where the mushrooms could be deadly or the air could be filled with asbestos or something. Also, you’re a Telepath. One that is clearly stronger than me. You’d be able to tell if I was about to turn. You’d also be aware that two of us could snipe anything that came too close with twice the power, twice as often. I’ve been worrying about running out of Psy this whole time and I’ve had to be slow so that I can watch out for traps. Two people alternating between themselves could go much faster and three people looking for traps could be much safer. If it’s a choice between my pants and my life, I’ll happily give up the pants.”

“He’s smart too.” Mantis man chirruped. “I say we take him. You never know what kind of monster we might run into. In fact, forget about the pants. Let’s start fresh. I have a good feeling about him.”

“Well, I don’t. He’s giving me goose prickles.”

“Helga, everyone gives you goose prickles.”

The mantis man made a sighing motion with his head, although the noises that came out were anything but human.

“Can’t you just charm him? Make sure he’s safe to bring?”

“Maybe. Hold on. Don’t let him near me.”

It felt as if a giant had kicked me in ribs. My breath escaped and I gasped for more air. Tendrils of nothingness slithered past my fog and past my eyes. Crawling into my center and lightly touching my lake. I did not have the strength to scream.

“Huh. That’s… Interesting. There’s a seal here. Powerful stuff. Let me dive a little bit deeper and…”

The whole of the bulk stopped moving. Helga and all her plants felt their connections stiffen. She howled in an expression that could only be called exquisite agony. If the vines could scream, they would’ve joined her too.

For my part, I flared an unhealthy dose of [Fever] at them, followed by [Hide], using the opening to slip between the two. I had braced myself for something to got wrong. For either the shrub or the mantis to do something to counter me.

Instead, both crumpled to the floor. Like puppets bereft of strings.

The foliage surrounding the shrub slid away at once and poisoned pink fronds began slapping the air, as if trying to grasp dinner. Meanwhile, the large flowers blossomed further, revealing both feline and canine skulls beneath the petals, lunging forward on tangled heaps of thorny rope.

At the center of it was a woman. Maybe in her mid twenties. With crooked teeth, messy brown hair and piercing grey eyes. Some of the plants she’d been wearing turned on her with delight, poisoning her with needles and skin contact. Others tore chunks of exoskeleton from the mantis man, redoubling the potency of his screams.

I was frozen with indecision. Sweating bullets as panic took hold.

My first instinct was to try and help them. But other notions rose to the forefront.

‘This is a fight. They tried to rob you. They’ll assume you hurt them. They’ll try to kill you. They attacked first. This is self-defence.’

Lessons of my youth came back up. The hatred everyone felt for thieves and looters. The kind of scum that would fight other people while monsters were running loose. Those were the worst. The ones who’d be sent to the firing squad or the noose.

I, I was supposed to help them. I’d been taught to help them.

But they’d attacked me first.

I took a deep breath. Bracing myself. Before releasing a dose of [Fever]. The act made me sick. But it made them feel a whole lot worse.

They gurgled as they spasmed. Feelings of terror and helplessness flowing into me from their positions.

I hit them again. This time targeting the man with [Mental Bolt] and followed that up with a dose of [Fear].

The man’s head, did not explode. Instead, his forehead swelled as if filled with fluids. His mouth-pincer organ releasing bestial screeches of exquisite agony. He writhed and tore at his own skull.

They were near death now.

I knew it.

I… The smart thing to do. The logical thing to do, would be to…

I shook my own head over and over. Repulsed and disgusted at myself.
‘No. This is a choice. A choice that will define me. This isn’t who I am. I am not a killer. I refuse to become a killer. I’d rather die.’

None tried to hit me and I managed to leave the watering hole unscathed. After that, I kept running and running and running. Past pitfalls and clusters of centipedes. Past buzzing swarms of bees crackling with electricity around hollowed-out walls. Past eels tangled up around the carcass of an armored otter.