Moonlit Retribution

Chapter Five

I snap to attention and sprint in the general direction of the cry, feeling dry leaves and branches crack and snap beneath my feet in an explosion of noise. Discretion and pain are thrown to the wind as I fly through the night, swatting low hanging branches from my face and still managing to catch a few swipes of them on my cheeks. The scream, raw and harsh with agony, sounds again, muffled this time, but it still seems to echo around me, swell at the trees’ canopy, and bombard me with the helplessness of the cry. Panting, I burst into the clearing, gun at the ready in one hand and the other clenching my aching side.

It takes me a bit to realize that no one is in sight. I cautiously circle the perimeter, following the muffled wailing, and soon discover that one of the guys must have triggered a trap. A gaping hole about ten feet in diameter has swallowed them.

Rushing over, I crouch at the edge in a defensive position, sweeping my gaze over the trees. Rigs people don’t usually attack unless you get right up to their encampment, but Andy has drilled us all to be prepared for anything and everything. I deduce that it’s as safe as it’s ever going to get out here and turn my eyes towards the bottom of the hole.

Lying in the muddy bottom of the trap is Dev, huddled against the curved dirt wall, sobbing hysterically and blindly clutching at the skin of his face and neck while Ríjez is clamping a jacket-covered hand over the man’s mouth. Though I can barely catch the movements in the darkness, I see him shoot me a quick glance, then look pointedly at Dev’s right side.

Instantly, I know what happened to the zombie-girl’s body.

I look up to the trees, and sure enough, a large vat is hanging on its side, dripping some steaming liquid that looks like mere water but so obviously isn’t.

Dev’s noises calm down to a wet, raspy whimper, enough that I can hear the faint sizzle as the liquid eats away at his flesh, his face, as it evaporates the blood and eyes on contact.

Ríjez and I share a glance. There is nothing we can do for him. It’ll reach his brain or some other vital organ before we even manage to drag him from the hole, much less get him back to the compound where Mella wouldn’t even know what to do with him.

I quietly load my handgun. Breathe in. Aim. Fire. The crack echoes with grim finality throughout the forest as Dev’s body sags lifelessly in Ríjez’s arms.

Guilt wells up inside me, weighs in my chest like lead and makes my eyes sting with unwanted tears. The cold metal of the gun burns my palms, and I drop it to the ground with shaking hands. Andy would be sickened that I am fighting back tears for a man I barely knew. Maybe I’m just too human for him. For any of this.

I force myself to remember that Dev isn’t the first to fall prey to these things and probably won’t be the last. But it still feels horrible to know that I could have done something and didn’t.

Useless. Always useless.

“Hang in there, kiddo,” Ríjez tells me quietly, rising from the mud and carefully edging his way closer to me. He has a prominent limp; he’s favoring his right leg. I realize that he must have dragged Dev from the opposite side of the pit right after landing. The pit is dug at an obvious slope; one section is dramatically lower than the other, and it’s apparent that if either of them had completely fallen into the lower side, I wouldn’t be able to tell their remains apart.

Ríjez tries to scrabble his way up, but the dirt is too loose, and he slides back down. Grunting, he makes a second attempt with no more success than the first.

Rising from ground, I scan the nearby trees for any branches that may help me tow my PO up, but I find nothing but rotted stumps. I sigh regretfully. Even if I find something, I probably wouldn’t be strong enough to lift him out.