Fan Fiction ❯ Frailty ❯ A way out of Hell ( Chapter 8 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

"Frailty"

Chapter eight- "A way out of Hell"


The ear-splitting racket of metal being rended and slashed open by a horde of blades echoed through-out the shipping depot. The machete' beasts were slicing their way through the walls and ceiling, relentlessly persisting in their hunt.


Despite the imminence of a fatal confrontation, Raven did not abort from her position, knelt over her victim's corpse. The boyishly short amethyst hair that crowned her head hung over her face, concealing the look of grief and self-loathing that replaced a once smugly victorious expression.
From a third-party's perspective, it was the scene of someone who was battling against their own flawed morality--and steadily losing not only the fight, but everything they knew.
Raven no longer saw the world through the eyes of a heroine that protected the innocent and punished those that that would dare to violate or harm the latter . She now perceived her surroundings through none other than the distorted vision of what she once brought to justice.


Like the impatient knock on the door of a dead man, the violent slashing begun to grow louder and more insistent, causing the already gaping holes in the ceiling to nearly triple in size. It was only a matter of time before the room was penetrated, and the army of monstrosities that could have descended only from the nightmares of a madman would enter. Intimidating as this may have been, Raven did not move, her gaze fixed onto the cold, lifeless eyes of Stidewall. Needless to say, the late prison warden had not been prepared for the firearm to go off. As a result, his final resting position had locked him into a perpetual staring contest with the ceiling. Though severely shaken, Raven's eyes had yet to produce anything more than an guilt-induced gawk. It was not until they met with the cross strung to the man's necklace did her mouth begin to quiver and her heart sunk like a weight. For whatever reason, the silver pendant brought the full realization of her actions into mind.
This man, this man that was nothing more than scared and retaliating in the best way he knew how, was dead. And it was all her fault.
She closed her eyes tight, forcing her emotions out through a steady stream of tears.


-Series of corridors neighboring the shipping depot-


Harvey Alding flicked a half-depleted cigarette into a trash-can that happened to be conveniently near-by, having just re-entered the prison. Where most C.O's would have abandoned the age-old rule of refraining from smoking in a public place at a time like this, Alding had always been a stick to the guide-lines. Within the past forty minutes that he had been separated from Raven, the corrections officer had already found his way out of the prison and sent a distress signal to the nearest coast guard, courtesy of a radio capable of transmitting and receiving wide-range frequencies.


As much as he may have wanted to stay in the safe-haven and wait for a response, there was a certain indigo-tressed sorceress that returned him to his place of employment. The possibility that the girl introduced as Raven had already escaped was every bit as ample as the chance that she was still trapped inside. An ex-marine that had found himself on the front-lines of operation Desert Storm, Alding believed whole-heartedly in the old militaristic phrase 'Never leave another soldier behind' and thus had no intention of even risking Raven's death.
His plan was simple enough. Enter the penitentiary through the shipping depot exit and perform a sweep of every corridor, cell and room till he A, found the mysterious amethyst-hared girl, or B, continued to search till he wound up back in the visitor check-in room, where they had been forced to split up under the influence of a bizarre short-lived earthquake. Should the latter occur, the most logical reaction was to back-track till he again found himself at the shipping depot.


Of course, Alding knew that none of this would blow over easily. With his broken arm cradled in a make-shift cast comprised of the discarded business coat, it was obvious that it would be far more difficult to defend himself. All the right-handed officer could do to forebode an attack was hope for the best and thank God that the snapped limb had indeed been his left arm.


After taking a minute to reflect over the generalization of his plans, Alding's eyes scanned over the hallway he had entered into. The door that led outside looked to have been positioned in the very center of the outlined corridor. Dimly lit and furnished with little to no decoration, it stretched off in both directions, the left ending with a uni-sex restroom (A spectacle that Alding had just then become witness to) and the right breaking off to the west. Directly across from the corrections officer was a slightly ajar door, it's inner edge stained with blood.
"Terrific..." He bitterly grumbled while advancing. "First God-damn't room I come to looks like something from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre..."


After being issued a firm push to it's center, the door obediently swung open, granting access to a room of about ten-by-fifteen feet, obscenely smothered with a crimson bodily fluid Alding had become rather prone to seeing. The wall on the far right end was occupied by a window looking out into a room that, though not very large in terms of width, climbed downward so far that space for two stories were easily saved. Despite having only visited this particular wing of the prison once or twice in the three years he had worked here, Alding quickly recognized it to be the rations storage. Cluttered nearly to the ceiling with unlabeled crates and stock-shelves, the corrections officer struggled to understand how there could possibly be any room for a ladder that would lead him to the ground. After dedicating another few seconds to peer further out the window, hoping to see the floor, Alding shrugged lightly.
Guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it...
Intending to do just that, Alding spun toward the door. A foot short of the threshold, a slight glint caught him from the corner of his eye


Stationed diagonally across the right corner of the room was an aged cabinet. Each shelf was home to a multitude of trivially useless objects, however on the middle shelf there was something that powerfully stood out from the others. An Uzi, carefully polished and laid on it's side, brightly reflected it's surroundings and rightfully forced a gasp from Alding's lungs. Careful not to slip up and brush the trigger, he seized the firearm by it's handle and raised it into the air, surprised at the heft. It was defiantly loaded.
Illegal as Hell... He thought to himself while examining the base of the gun. Why in God's name would we have something like this here?
After determining that it was fully loaded, he gave the mystery of it's existence a mental shrug and stored it into a vacant holster on his belt. In the long run, what use was there in questioning a good thing? The more firepower he had, the merrier.


-The shipping depot-


The beasts flanked Raven from every conceivable direction, slowly closing what little distance remained between themselves and her. When had they gotten in? It didn't matter. The only thing of any pertinence in the sorceress' mind was the dire fact that she had taken the life of another human being. As they grew closer, her eyes wandered back over the prone form of Stidewall, almost hoping to see some sign of life. There came nothing. Tears again began to well up in her eyes, however before they could make contact with the pale white flesh of her face, Horace's familiar voice crackled into her mind.


You had some good intentions for yourself in this place. Walk right on out, no tragedy, no despair, no nothin'...Too bad Carnate doesn't work that way...Ya' know, when I was convicted, they told me that if I behaved myself, the death penalty would get lifted. I went right on believing that till the day I was drug into the electrocution chamber...Just as they were strapping me into that Godamn chair, I learned a very important lesson about this island.
It strips you of everything.
Your pride, your dignity, your sense of well-being, you can kiss it all good-bye...but lemme' tell ya', I can't imagine ANYTHING sweeter than getting to walk out alive...


It may have been the impact of his words that broke her trance. Perhaps it was the simple fact that he had spoken to her at all, but for whatever reason, when Horace's voice painfully faded, Raven whipped the tears that she was about to shed away and gazed toward the horde of monsters that stood mere feet from her. Without showing any determinable sign of emotion, she hefted the shotgun's barrel into and acute angle and smote the group of unfortunate beasts that just happened to be in front of her with a single, well-placed blast. With their limbs, bone fragments and entrails scattered throughout a small radius, a path toward Stidewall's office emerged.


It had been battered from the grenade assault earlier, but Raven determined that it was a far safer place to take cover and re-load than anywhere else in the hangar. After sparring a fraction of a second to scan the surrounding grounds for any un-expected surprises, she sprang forward.


Landing on her feet, Raven spun on her heel to face the pursuing brigade. In an attempt to slow them down, she fired twice, one instantly after the other. Much of the front-line fell, however no lives were taken. By the time the afflicted recovered, most of their peers had surpassed them, and the very prey that they once had the most prospect of killing was in a mad dash for the office. With little time sparred to clear the distance, Raven hurtled across the thresh-hold and took cover behind the nearest properly-sized object-a rectangular oak desk. Straining slightly, she tipped the table onto it's side and ducked behind it. With only a faint prayer that the gun had at least four rounds left, Raven raised above her cover and squeezed the trigger, discharging two rounds into a collection of assailants that had just arrived at the door-frame. The blast plowed through all that populated the frame, sending their recoiling, bleeding bodies flying in reverse, directly into the group behind them.


Reverting back to a ducked position, Raven begun to re-load the gun, working off memory from the last occasion. A half-minute passed before she slid the final bullet in. Though the plan was to repeat the process, using the cover as best to her ability, all intentions were dashed in an instant when one of the beasts flanked her from the right end of the table. Turning hastily, Raven squeezed off a round that's force sent the intruder soaring backwards. An audible wunt rung out when the creature bounced off the wall behind it and crashed against the ground, leaving behind a bloody imprint.


Though the invading freak-show had been fended off without incident, when Raven was available to check on the door-frame, she had made the rather horrifying discovery that more than half the office had been over-run, leaving only a three foot distance between her and the enemy. Shocked, frightened, but not defeated, she back-peddled away and accessed the situation calmly as she could.
She was in a space that, even when un-occupied, was considerably small-there were well over ten living beings in the office not including herself. This made dodging attacks very difficult, if not impossible. That qualified as the bad news.
The good aspect was the almost fully-loaded shotgun that remain clutched in her hands. A close-range, spread-fire type of gun, one shot would go quite far. The predicament was adjustable.
Keeping this in mind, she took one more step backward, braced herself and fired.
Just as the bullets expelled from the barrel, the office exploded into a spectacle of blood, limbs and intestines.


After briefly attempting to shake the crimson fluid that had sprayed against her face away, Raven
Leveled the barrels of the shotgun to begin firing anew, however before her finger could yank down on the trigger once more, she caught a motion of uncomfortably close proximity out the corner of her eye. Whirling in the movement's general direction, she raised the still smoking gun high into the air, keeping one hand on the base of the handle and the other wrapped tightly around the barrel.


Hardly a fraction of a second passed before the rusted blade of a machete' beast came sailing down toward her and bounced off the upheld gun, emitting an alarmingly loud clank.
Stepping backwards, Raven deflected two more downward cleaves before the horde she had once been driving out of the office caught up with her. Once swipe to the calve was all it took to bring the sorceress down.
Despite the afflicted limb being reduced to a laid-open, bloody mess, Raven continued to rail against her predators. Almost instantly after hitting the floor, she sought out the shotgun, which had been dropped during the violent altercation. It had landed a mere five foot distance away from her head, but with the severely injured leg beginning to grow quite numb, simply staying conscious without throwing up was a difficult task.


As fast as they could possibly move, both arms shot out in front of her and proceeded to drag the otherwise motionless body forward. She stopped abruptly when the distance between the gun and her hand had closed to no more than a select few inches. Stretching out all five fingers, Raven opted for the weapon's barrel and grimaced when she barely came up short. When the tip of her middle finger brushed against the stainless steel surface, it was easily calculated that at least another inch and a half would have to be traveled.


Swallowing hard, she gazed over her shoulder and groaned loudly at the sight of a beast standing directly over her, poised to strike. There was clearly no time to drag herself further.
On a snap decision (Or perhaps last resort), she planted both hands firmly to the floor and, using her uninjured leg, sprung forward. Toward the end of the lunge, she unexpectadly twisted off to the left, causing her to land on her shoulder, ribs and among everything else, wounded leg. A searing pain shot through every physical inch that came to collide with the concrete floor, however it was not enough to satiate her determination.


Grinding her teeth together and wincing the pain away, Raven swept the shotgun up with both hands and sparred no time to properly place aim before firing.
Her slashed open calve, the deafening symphony of a fired duo of bullets, and the creature's piercing screech were more than enough to make her gain the urge to turn the barrel on herself and pull the trigger once more. Just as she begun to teeter on the mental border of doing such, the collidescope of unbearable racket took an unexpected turn. The echo of the shotgun blast dissipated into the air and gave birth to a new kind of gunfire. Not nearly as loud as the shotgun and far more rapid, this mystery firearm's lullaby was exentuated by the shriek of it's victims, and the vulgar hollering of a familiar voice, "C'mon, ya' nut-less piece's of shit! You wanna' fuck with someone, fuck with me!"
Peering through the group of beasts that had at the moment turned their backs to her, Raven could see none other than Harvey Alding standing in the office doorframe, his left arm in a bloodied make-shift sling and a smoking fire-arm that looked to be some sort of sub-machine gun clutched in his right hand.


Easily evading an attack issued by a near-by beast, than mowing it down with a hail of bullets, the corrections officer could not have appeared more heroic through Raven's eyes, and as she witnessed the horde of merciless predators being plowed down and smote by a human being with only one active arm, refraining from smiling was the most conceivably difficult task she could remember doing.


Hardly even a minute following his arrival, Alding stood over a sea of spent shell casings and grounded, bleeding bodies, one of which he promptly recognized to be Raven. Gently setting the gun to the floor, he approached her, kicking numerous corpses out of his path. If her barrier of lacking emotion around other people had been broken and Raven had indeed curved her lips into a smile, it had long since faded when Alding arrived to her. As the corrections officer closed the distance between them and his eyes fell to her injury, he face-faulted.
"Jesus ChristThey got you pretty damned good."
Raven followed his gaze to her calve. The lengthy vertical gash nearly split the entire limb in half and dug so deep that pearly white bone was visible in multiple regions.


Had she attained some sort of gauge on the severity of the wound earlier, Raven may have taken it with a collected posture, but given this was her first free look, keeping not only her emotions, but her physical being in check was too steep a hill for her to climb. With a prompt response, her stomach begun to tie itself in a knot and a terrible queasy sensation begun to dominate her insides. Having an indication of what was about to come but not necessarily wanting to believe it, she attempted to swallow air-and almost immediately felt it being pushed back up. As much as the sorceress hated it, she knew she was about to throw up and in the end decided it was best to just accept the inevitable, get it over with and hope like Hell she wouldn't wind up dry-heaving.


Careful not to disturb her calve, Raven leaned over to the side and let her jaw drop. As if picking up the signal, her torso kicked forward slightly and subsequently a sour, scentless concoction begun to free-flow out. As she hacked and sputtered the vomit out, Alding kneeled down beside her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Get it all out, kid." He spoke in as gentle a tone as his military-molded voice could produce (Which in truth wasn't much). "You gotta' number done on you, but we'll figure something out. Good news, too. I got in contact with the coast-guard and"
"Go without me." Raven managed between a series of heaves.
"Huh?"
After a brief episode of hacking and coughing in the aftermath of her regurgitation, she started again on a completely different foot, "I know that Horace would have wanted me to keep going, but" Words failed momentarily as her mind wandered back to Doctor Killjoy. After taking a deep, unsteady breath, she continued, "But I don't think I shouldleave this placenot yet"
Harvey Alding was well known for having a short fuse and after hearing Raven's second set of words, lost his patience, "What is this happy horse-shit?" He balked, "What the Hell are you talking about?!?"


Raven maneuvered to look him in the eyes. "There's something wrong with me, Harvey"
She replied, failing to accurately answer the question. "And the only person that can help is on this island."


-End Chapter 8-


*Rambling from the author*


Looking back at it, all I can do is produce a long, drawn out whistle and say, "Damn, have I been outta' it."
In truth, the dark, depressing stuff of this fic started to bring me down and while I have no intention of letting it go, I decided for my disposition's sake that I better start writing something a little more light-hearted on the side. That will hopefully be posted by next week. My apologies for the righteous tardiness of this particular chapter.


-JackoMegane