THE EPOCH CHRONICLES | ✔

eighteen

LALE FELT like one of his major organs had been ripped out.

There one second, gone the next. No blood (Except for the trickle out of her forehead oh God). No pain (Agonizing). Just an emptiness that was filled with the beating of his heart, too slow and too constant as he pulled the trigger again.

And again.

And again.

How many more did he kill? How many more fell, while he felt nothing? No remorse. No fear. Just a heartbeat.

But not Fereldson's.

━━━━

"Snap out of it!" Bradley was shaking him, his fingers digging through his suit and awakening his senses. Lale's eyes focused on his. To his shock, he realized that his vision was blurred with tears. "You're alive, okay? But you're not gonna be for long if you don't snap out of it!"

"I killed her," Lale's tongue felt thick and heavy, like he hadn't used it in a century. It was like Bradley had awakened his mortal self. The one that was thirsty, and tired, and just wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep. And cry, maybe. In a place where no-one could see him, deep inside. "I fucking killed her."

"She was on the wrong side of this battle." Lale had never heard Bradley speak so venomously before. "But you're not. Come on, man!"

Lale did not want to 'come on'. But, as he slowly awoke from his stupor, he noticed that the gunfire was still assaulting his ears, and his fingers were cramping from pulling the trigger, and his grey suit was stained with blood. Not his own.

He and Bradley were behind the cage of the elevator, and, beyond them, Ichabod was shooting with his tiny pistol. It was more effective than Lale would've thought.

Lale groaned and sat up from his position against the cage and leaning on his friend. He clasped Bradley's hand, ignoring that emptiness for a moment. Live first, grieve later. "Thanks, man."

"Just don't do that again," his wiry comrade grunted, though his eyes betrayed more concern than Lale would've liked. He turned away and grabbed the lethal rifle, former stoniness chipping away by slowly rising anger. He didn't need pity - he  wanted the bastards that had dared to rope Fereldson into her death dead.

"We need a plan!" Ichabod yelled, throwing himself behind cage alongside them as several more hostile advanced on them. He swung open his cylinder, and the lack of gleaming bullets was evident. "We can't just keep going on at them like this!"

"You got a better idea?" Bradley retorted, poking his rifle around the edge of the cage and firing wildly at the opposing soldiers, who ducked, but didn't slow their progress.

Lale stayed quiet, assessing the situation. They were still inside the warehouse, defending the elevator. He knew that, if anyone got down it, it would be game over. But the stairs were unguarded, as well as the porthole behind the warehouse, which was no source of ease for he and his fellow marines. If Amelia and her friends were killed ... the thought shuddered deep within him.

I can't let that happen. I won't let another person die. Not today.

"We need reinforcements," Lale finally decided, brushing his palm against his eyes. His vision cleared, and he wiped the tears on his suit. But from where? All of the marines have been deployed!

At that moment, the cage netting began to shudder, and the familiar mechanical whooshing of the elevator started up. Lale tensed and gripped his gun tighter, not daring to believe that his wish would actually be granted.