Seth Azemar knew things had become dire.
Every morning, more S.I.S members were called into the field, and every night, less returned. The base had been running on a skeleton crew for days now, but even they had started being called out. This morning, Seth had stood at the window and watched as the last of them were driven off. Even Tai, wrapped up in combat gear and given a more secure brace for his arm, had been ushered to the back of the utility vehicle and carted away, and Seth realised the time had come.
He'd continued searching the archives the last few days, hoping the S.I.S would find a way to fix this and he wouldn't have to resort to Maud's tip. But there'd been nothing so far. No one seemed to have any idea how to stop the portals, and the archives hadn't revealed anything helpful.
He didn't trust Maud, but the world didn't have time for him to humour those doubts anymore.
He had to go to the rebel base today.
After a quick call from Sophie, commanding him to stay put and telling him she'd be there within the hour, Seth grabbed a backpack and filled it with everything he'd need.
Guns, ammo, food, water.
It only took him five minutes, but his heart thudded the whole time, his ears pricked for the sound of engines coming down the road as the next round of jailers the S.I.S had assigned him showed up.
But the building stayed quiet, and as he raced out of the crumbling halls and into the street, no one crossed his path. He paused out front, half expecting someone to emerge from the corner and escort him back inside, but no one did, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, Seth Azemar realised he was alone.
He crossed to the other side of the street and headed towards the city, sticking to the shadows cast by buildings. Anytime he heard a car coming, he ducked into a doorway, or crouched behind a fence, but the incidences were few and far between.
He knew most people had fled to the country, that the chance of escaping an opening portal were reduced when you were surrounded by buildings, but the state of the street was still shocking. It was pin drop quiet, with piles of rubbish thrown on and around collapsing building, and stray cats outnumbered the cars ten to one. Not to mention the rats.
A smell had begun to set in too — decay and dust — and as he moved deeper into the city it became more potent, clouding his nostrils.
Several times, he hit dead ends. Streets were either blocked off by collapsed buildings or hovering portals, their dark tendrils throbbing and creeping across the street, and he realised how slow his progress would become if he didn't change tactic. He started jumping fences, rustling through people's abandoned garages until he found what he was looking for.
The bike he found was bright, a conspicuous red with sparkly streamers puffing from it's handles, but it'd have to do.
He wouldn't put it past his mother to figure out where he'd gone and try to cut him off before he reached the rebel base. There were enough ghosts hanging around that if he was out here long enough, one of the S.I.S squads could easily run into him accidentally as well.
So, he pulled the bike from the garage and pedalled hard enough that by the time he hit the northern suburbs, and was riding up the hill that led to Jared's old house, he was panting.
He stopped a street away and tucked the bike into an alleyway, letting himself catch his breath. And then he walked up to the house, slinging the gun from his back as he went.
The house was dark, with several of it's windows smashed and dark splatters that he didn't particularly want to investigate running up the walls. It looked abandoned, run down, but he didn't trust appearances. There could still be rebels inside.
The thought automatically made him pause, a caution that'd been ingrained into him from the moment he was born kicking in, and he had to remind himself that if there were any rebels here, it wouldn't be the worst thing. Maybe they'd make this easy and stab him the moment he walked through the door.
With that thought in mind, he moved up the steps to the porch, gun held out in front of him. Even before he opened the door though, he heard the buzzing, the kind of sound that accompanied swamps, or rubbish, or death.
Stealing himself, Seth toed the door open, letting it swing wide, and the smell hit him instantly. The hum of flies became deafening as he caught sight of the first body in the corridor, insects swarming it like shifting shadows.
He jerked back and retched, trying not to lose his breakfast.
Yes, this place was definitely abandoned.
That body wasn't fresh, and from the glimpse he got of the corridor beyond, it also wasn't the only one.
Taking in a gulp of breath, Seth fumbled his flashlight from his pocket and pulled his shirt up, tying it over his mouth and nose. Hopefully, it'd save him from some of the stench. He stepped into the corridor, passing the bodies with held breath and refusing to look at any of their faces. He didn't want to identify any of them, to perhaps realise that he was standing over someone he knew.
The deeper he got into the house, the more bodies there were, though — collapsed on the floor, strew across tables, splattered over the walls. The smell choked him, making his eyes water, but he pushed forward, searching for any glint of metal in the torchlight.
The first floor revealed nothing, and he was half way along the second floor when his stomach finally gave up. He'd turned into a corridor that was worse than most, more violent, and he'd had to sprint to the nearest room and wrench the window open.
He'd only just pulled the shirt from his face before his breakfast exploded into the air and fell to the ground below, and he hung there for a minute, gasping.
He hadn't factored this awfulness into coming here. Hadn't even considered it. The raid had been brutal, he'd known that, but the reality of it was something else. Usually, battle scenes were cleaned up before he got to them: wiped down and disinfected and made presentable, but this was a half-decomposed graveyard.
And there'd been S.I.S gear on so many of those bodies...
Taking in another deep gulp of fresh air, he wiped his mouth off and tied the shirt around his face again.
He just had two more floors to search, then he'd be able to leave.
He turned back into the room, letting the humid, thick air encompass him again, and took in the space.
It looked like a study, or a library. Books lined the walls and a desk sat beside —
Seth froze as he saw the body that was sprawled under the desk. As he recognised it. Her.
Riley's red hair had lost it's lustre in death, her eyes vacant and terrifying. And right in the centre of her forehead, there was a bullet hole. Right where he'd seen it when she'd come to visit as a ghost.
He jerked back, turning away, but then his eyes landed on the body by the door and he realised he recognised it too.
Marco.
Seth swore under his breath and closed his eyes, trying not to think, to feel. It didn't work. He could feel tears prickling, rising to the surface, and he wiped them away. He scanned the room again to make sure the knife wasn't there and then darted out.
He needed to get out of here.
He searched the rest of the top floor quickly, fighting back sobs, and then made his way down to the basement.
The moment he stepped onto those concert steps, he felt the shift in the air, a coolness setting in, and he practically sprinted down, desperate to find the knife and get out of this building.
When he hit the bottom, he found himself in a concrete room, and his flashlight instantly reflected off a black writhing mass. He jerked back, and from the safety of the stairs, he let his flashlight travel around the boundaries of the portal that took up almost the entire space.
He knew this was the one that'd started it all, that'd ripped it way from Leah, and he stared at it with a morbid fascination. If they could just close this portal, would that make any difference? Or were they already too far gone?
The portal's surface rippled, like it could hear his thoughts, and Seth shrunk further away. There was nothing else in here anyway, just an empty dungeon. He was about to give up, to turn and leave, when his light flashed over something metallic, right at the base of the portal.
He swung his light onto it again, watching it glint, and his heart caught in his throat.
It was the knife, sitting down here, on it's own.
He stared at it for a moment, astonished, and then, before he could think it through, he lunged forward, grabbing for it. He felt the portal pull at him, felt the suction of it against his skin, his clothes, but then his hand closed around the knife and he pulled back, ripping himself free.
"I knew it."
The voice was deep, harsh, and Seth jumped, spinning around.
Someone stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at him, and Seth turned his light in their direction, half knowing who it would be before the beam even landed on them.
Tai's face was grim, his hands clenched around a rifle that was pointed right at Seth's head, and Seth felt his heart sink.
"Drop the knife, Seth," Tai said, his voice a growl. "Now."
...
Eeekkk Seth's actually found the knife! Do you think he's going to use it?
Next chapter out in two weeks!
- Skylar xx