The Viterals

Chapter 3: Fight or Flight

Zakana lifted himself off the ground and rubbed his back. He tried to breath, but the pain was excruciating. There was no time to wonder if there would be permanent damage. He grimaced, looked out at the two vast creatures. Snow slurries swirled around them in dusty whirlpools, creating some sort of magical effect.

"Slowpoke!"

Zakana launched himself behind the kitchen table, readjusted the bag on his shoulder, and removed the red Pokedex device again. He aimed it at Slowpoke and asked the voice inside the machine, "What kind of attacks does this thing have?"

"Slowpoke's attacks: confusion, water gun and tail whip." The voice paused, said, "Slowpoke is a water and psychic Pokémon, said to have mysterious powers when gathered in great numbers."

Zakana looked down at the device, shut it.

"Slowpoke!"

Zakana knew how it went. He was supposed to order an attack, and his Pokémon was supposed to obey. If he decided to attack, would things end up even worse for him? Was running the best option?

Before Zakana could order anything, Slowpoke made its own move. It lifted its head, shot a stream of water from its mouth, through the destroyed corner of the house, and hit one of the snowy creatures in the face. The water nearly froze and dissipated before it even reached the monster, which, didn't seem to notice anything.

Zakana opened his Pokedex again, aimed it at the creatures moving toward him.

"Abamasnow," the voice inside the device matched the icy theme before them. "The abominable snowman Pokémon. Abamasnow roams the mountains during the winter and retires to caves when the weather becomes too warm. Wild Abamasnow have little interaction with humans and are prone to anger if they come across them. It is said Abamasnow are surrounded by a never-ending blizzard."

"Slowpoke!" Zakana shouted. "Let's get out of here!" Quicker than was natural, Zakana lifted his empty Pokeball, said, "return!"

Slowpoke disappeared inside the amorphous ball of white light, became one with the Pokeball again. The two Abamasnow stared onward, walked forward, the same red glare residing inside their eyes as though possessed demons. One of them cocked its piece of timber back, and prepared to swing.

Zakana sprinted back to the south wall, crouched into the corner.

"What do you want with me?"

The next slam came but this time Zakana was prepared. Pieces of wood, ice, and snow blasted against his body, hit him at all angles until he could no longer tell the difference about what pelted him. Shards of wood and ice nailed him in the face, his side. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the kitchen table lie in a billion pieces, and one of the Abamasnow had moved into the opening in the house.

Nothing could have prepared Zakana for this day. No amount of workouts or exercises would save him. Again, his mother's words rang inside his head, stung his heart. She would never leave him to die, but here he was, moments from having his body crushed into these snow creatures next meal. That was how dire the situation was. His mom told him what he needed to know, and left . . . because she needed to get to safety herself. She had to get to Yumin and dad. Zakana's logic told him that much. Inside his legs and torso, he felt a surge of energy knowing that his mother trusted him enough to survive on his own. He said, "Whoever sent you should know who they're dealing with."

Zakana knew that the next wood hammer would leave him dead. There was no way to get to the stairs now as the Abamasnow moved closer. He would have to slip past it on the right side, and hope that whatever the other one was doing wouldn't kill him in the process. Something about his training kicked in, adrenaline rushed through him and he acted without another thought. Instead of swinging vertically this time, the Abamasnow swung horizontally.