Fan Fiction ❯ Frailty ❯ Upon a shore of trauma ( Chapter 17 )

 

“Frailty”

 

 

Chapter seventeen- “Upon a shore of trauma”

 

 

The air was deathly still, offering not even a breeze to assail the resurrected structural fire, which threatened to leave nothing of its already destroyed victim.

Raven gazed at the spectacle in silent awe, witnessing Mother Nature's once illusive powers being stolen from her by a spectrum of evil, unfathomable to even her before she was placed in the middle of it.

With nothing to persuade its motion, the torrent simply rose upwards, growing more and more intense by the second.

It was not until a bead of sweat rolled down the side of her head, did she come to realize that time was of the essence; and sure as that was, she was wasting it.

She offered one more brief gaze at the fire, before closing her eyes and dashing into it.

 

 

A wave of uncomfortable warmth immediately swept over her, foreboding a fate far worse than simply being hacked to pieces by one of Carnate's manifestations. Despite how much this made her want to keep her eyes closed, she forced them open and frantically started for the corner furthest from her, where her motive sit, propped upright against the frame-work.

Just as Raven's first step made contact with the floor, terrible distraction found its inevitable way into her plans.

 

 

She noted, as she begun to take her second step forward, a shower of embers raining down for her. One dismissive step to the side was all it took to avoid them, however, a plaintive groan from overhead was quick to follow.

She cast a reactive glance upward just in time to see the cottage's main support beam, that which kept its slanted roof intact, surrender to its torture.

In prompt and dire sequence, a loud crack cried out from the foot of the beam, causing its flaming midsection to swing inward across the room.

 

 

Raven whirled to the right, and was greeted by the sight of a large gout of fire, headed straight for her. Operated off blind instinct, she leapt in reverse. The beam swung by without casualty, but after reaching the conclusion of its trip snapped off, and hit the ground with a loud but dull WUNT.

In immediate sequence, what little remained of the cottage that wasn't aflame followed suit.

The mystic startled as the end result of her dodge promptly consumed the space surrounding the shotgun, and whipped threateningly in her direction. Only one small opening to still acquire the gun offered any hope; a narrow space that the fire had yet to reach, but accessible only from the outside.

 

 

Cringing, Raven rushed forward, and dove through the building-frame. She landed in a crumpled heap, less than a foot out of harm's reach, slightly battered by the rough contact made with the ground, but thankfully enough not doused in flame.

Retaining the time issue, she recovered as quickly as she could manage, and snapped a hand into the corner of the frame, seizing the shotgun by its midsection.

 

 

Anything positive that could have been adopted by her seizure didn't receive time to settle before an overwhelming amount of heat converged on Raven's trespassing arm.

In a swift, fluid motion, she pulled out, only to confirm the terrible notion that she had indeed, caught herself on fire.

 

 

For one terrifying instant, the only sound that dared to intrude was the blaze's mockingly calm crackle. Raven went still, fallen victim to her shock.

And she would have remained that way, had the cottage not chosen that moment to proceed in its collapse by allowing a series of beams that once held the greeting wall up to come crashing to the ground.

All at once, everything came rushing back to her head. The shotgun, her burning arm, and in-tow, a clear recollection of the pit, just a short distance away.

 

 

In a flurry of legs, Raven bolted from the clearing, and promptly thereafter shifted towards a familiar stream, rushing over tall congregations of stone.

Rather than collectively submerse her arm upon arriving, the mystic discharged her gun to the ground, and frantically leapt forward, diving in head-first.

 

 

As luck would have it, the pit drove much deeper than what could be assumed from looking at its surface, thus when Raven's panic-driven tactic came out into full play, no further injury followed.

The fire was prompt to extinguish as she sunk further towards the pit's floor, subsequently causing the already tainted water to cloud up.

She burst out a second later, casting filthy sprays of the pit's contents in every direction, and proceeded to approach the embankment.

After sputtering something awful, the mystic tumbled over and came to rest on her knees.

 

 

On a higher note, the blaze that had so amply threatened to completely disable her turned out to have left only the uncomfortable redness of a first-degree burn. The fabric of her leotard, where it had primarily caught at, was completely burnt through, and singed right up to the elbow.

 

 

Raven's face flushed slightly as she came to terms with scorched skin that was left as a momento; Relieved that it didn't result in anything worse, but still so very angry with herself for not having been more cautious. Had she been more wary before snapping her hand inside, nothing would have likely happened at all.

With a silent sigh, she climbed to her feet, and reclaimed the shotgun.

 

 

The path, which was reached after Raven returned to the cottage to properly reload, led further into a scene that was beginning to repeat itself over the last forty-five minutes.

Another set of dense wood-lines that skirted the trail for its visible duration. The familiar depiction didn't last long, though, as Raven neared the large twin stone-foundations that essentially sectionalized the two areas.

 

 

“It'll be a cold day in Hades before I relent to you fiends!”

 

 

Her head snapped in every direction as the thick southern voice broke out across the night air.

She saw nothing, till her eyes raised towards the top of the foundation. The speaker, as it would be assumed, was not visible, however what she could see was a trio of machete' beasts scuttling in her direction.

She did not receive the chance to assume the defensive before the voice once more projected out,

“UPSTARTS! Maybe this will keep you back!”

An explosion followed, causing a tremor so violent, Raven was knocked to her knees.

When she looked up once more, a scene familiar to the cottage welcomed her.

A thick tree, once centralized in the foundation to her left, was enveloped in the flame of a Moltov, and slowly beginning to tip her way.

 

 

Time, in that instance, was more forgiving than it had been previously. Raven was allowed to snap to her feet and scramble into a safe-haven, just before the broadside of the tree came toppling over.

Gracious as that may have been, the path was left in flaming shambles.

The beasts, for their part, were completely crushed. The foundation was leveled to the ground, the fire was spreading at an alarmingly rapid pace, and there held no sign of the mystery arsonist who was half to thank and half to blame for all of it.

Thinking on her feet, Raven shut her eyes and put forth a degree of concentration, which came out as, “Azarath Metrion Zinthos…”

As reward, her feet lifted from the ground.

After gaining substantial leverage, she passed over the tree, but did not touch down immediately thereafter.

 

 

The sight that presented itself from below was, indeed, blandly familiar; almost déjà vu.

Another stream, slightly more aggressive than its predecessor, divided the area in half.

A bridge that was once intended to allow access between the two sections had collapsed at the center, now offering little more than concrete blockage to the rushing water below.

Face-faulting, Raven begun to dip down, and dove for the other side.

She came to rest gently on the path, which refracted a slight degree to persist onward through the thickets of trees.

Her initial pace as she pressed on was that of a normal stride, but was prompt to advance into a dead sprint when the voice hollered from further downward, “DEATH TO THE SPOILERS!”

 

 

Huffing, Raven rounded a corner, and found herself in a new clearing. The path led into the center, then broke off to the left, exiting not only out of the open space, but the wood-trail altogether. Beyond it was a shoreline, its details vague due to her position.

 

 

To one corner of the clearing was a makeshift barricade of lumber, mostly destroyed by weather and wood-rot. Behind it ducked the man responsible for all of the night's moltov-assaults.

 

 

Grey, thinning hair, and considerable amounts of wrinkles upon his face indicated that he was middle-aged.

An orange cover-all suggested his conviction status.

But a head-count of twelve offending beasts clearly stated that he was in dire need of assistance.

Raven wasted no time to consider the results before advancing into the clearing and relieving the shotgun of a round.

 

 

The rearmost creature abruptly jolted forward as a blast nailed it between the shoulder blades. It groggily recovered and pulled a labored turn as if to retaliate, but instead slumped over, thereafter revealing a roughly snapped spine.

A hot breath dispersed from Raven's lips as the others turned to face her.

 

 

The barrel raised slowly, and leveled with the torso of the nearest creature, however just as her finger grazed the trigger, she was stopped by the convict, “Don't waste your ammo on these upstarts! They're all just fodder, I'm afraid…and there's an eternal supply.”

Her eyebrow arched, and compliantly, she begun to back away.

“So, what do we do?”

The man rose above the barricade into plain view, a moltov clutched in his hand.

“Just keep them distracted till I can get a good opportunity, and when I say now, hit the dirt!…and do make sure to cover your eyes.”

 

 

The mystic's back peddling quickly turned to dodges as the first few beasts made their arrival, and immediately begun attacking. Using her powers, she swept aside a shield and deflected the numerous blows, buying her new-found assistance time to find a good open spot.

His eyes, though losing some of their luster in his old age, had no trouble pin-pointing it when it came around.

Raven was driven further backward as a particularly nasty downward cleave connected with her shield. In sequence, the creatures converged in attempts to get the first pickings.

“Duck, NOW!”

The in-mate reared his arm back and forced it forward, sending the moltov nearly jettisoning outward.

 

 

Raven promptly scrambled onto her stomach, and not a second too soon. As her arms slung over her head, an explosion rattled the ground. The moltov combusted directly over the covey, subsequently bathing them in flame.

She was quick to recover to her feet and start in the barricade's direction. The beasts lost their normally brutish thought pattern as they were barbecued alive, and showed her advance no response.

She sacrificed one more moment upon arriving to turn and blast through one that had grown uncomfortably close, then crouched down beside the convict.

He showed no gratification, and only stared forward, till every last potential threat had hit the ground.

When that inevitable instance came to be, he rose abruptly, and offered a hand to Raven.

 

 

“It's good to see another Human being among the livin'.” He greeted whilst hauling her to her feet. “I dread to think of that little episode's end, had you not shown up…”

She was given time only to nod, before he continued, “The name's Clam, ma'am. I've been plotting my escape from Abbot for years, and hoped to carry out my exodus tomorrow, but these…recent events…have ruined everything. Here, I'll show you…”

With that, the man whom had addressed himself as Clam spun on his heel and started for the wood-trail's exit.

Raven quickly caught up with him as he proceeded out to a grungy, rotted dock that over-looked what was quite possibly the most depressing shore she had ever seen- -One she distinctly recalled seeing minutes after escaping from Abbot.

 

“Look, there!” Clam backed away and pointed toward the receding waves. “Do ya' see, coming out of the water? I swear, it is the most hideous thing I have ever laid eyes upon!”

Raven followed his gaze, to be greeted by that which she never hoped to encounter again.

Indeed, one of the gelatinous brutes had emerged from the surface, and approached the dock at a gradual pace. Shortly thereafter, it was joined by three more.

 

 

Clam advanced forward to a corner of the dock, where he had stockpiled another arsenal of Moltovs.

Taking hold of one such projectile, he turned toward Raven.

“If you have a good arm, I suggest you grab one, yourself. The only way to be relatively safe is to fight, tooth and nail!”

As if his own words had toughened his resolve, he planted one foot on the edge, and hurled the Moltov towards the closest monstrosity, nailing it over the head.

“BACK TO THE SEA, YOU AQUATIC ATROSTIES!”

 

 

Raven looked thoughtfully at the cocktails. Over the course of the night, her ability to throw had been surprisingly impressive, failing to let her down even once.

But its reliability held no argument to a point-blank shotgun blast.

Adopting the gun into both hands, she cast a determined gaze into the still advancing abominations, and proceeded to drop down to the foot of the docks.

 

 

Another moltov was lobbed across the sky in the course of her venture, effectively narrowing the headcount to two. The fire that resulted consumed a wide space that made closing the distance any further difficult, but regardless, Raven jerked forward, setting herself directly before one of the mammoth freaks.

Her face carried a hopeful, courageous expression as she yanked back on the trigger, pumping a single shot intended to devastate the point of impact.

 

 

The mystic's breath caught in her throat at what resulted.

 

 

The rounds made contact, alright. They simply sunk into its flesh, and left behind a few deep holes.

And this was as close to injury as her assault came; the creature held nary a flinch.

 

 

“Brave, but none too intelligent!” Clam called from behind a now wide-eyed Raven, then proceeded to smite her opposition with another Moltov. Caught in the motion of what was supposed to be retaliation, it let its morning star plummet to the sand, and subsequently followed suit.

The low rumble that elicited from the mammoth's heavy form hitting the ground helped to snap Raven out of the awestruck trance its insane resilience placed her under.

Sure as her mind was cleared, she turned and took off in a dead sprint for the dock.

 

 

“It's impossible!” The mystic huffed to Clam as heaved her back into relative safety.

“I hit that thing point-blank, and it was barely even effected!”

A reply was slow to follow. Raven stared blankly as the inmate seized another Moltov and flung it forward, ridding them of the last remaining threat.

 

 

Clam released a relieved sigh when things once more begun to settle down.

“These festering creatures flaunt science with their every step.” He declared, casting a gaze toward Raven. “What's more, is now I fear they are impervious to bullets, and can only be burnt or blown up…If I didn't know better, I'd say they have some sort of connection with the eighteenth century slave ship, wrecked up the beach aways…Well, lets get a move on.”

He abruptly turned, grabbed a Moltov in each hand, and dropped from the dock.

Raven stared warily towards the burning remnants left upon the shore before pursuing.

 

 

The venture down the beach was quiet, neither saying a word for fear that they would be greeted by more than just a reply. Taking the time to catch her breath, Raven shifted her eyes from one area to the other, taking in all of the shore's details.

She was almost certain that the prison was directly above her.

The land took a startling elevation to her right, creating a solid wall of earth for much of the shore's duration (evidently only letting up where she had entered through).

 

 

The tide, as it were expected, shifted perpetually; its waves prevailing to certain lengths upon the shore, then abruptly declining back into the ocean. However, something strange still included itself within the predominantly lucid scene. The entire process seemed more gradual than it should be.

The water more viscous, the waves crawled in, then simply seemed to slump back.

It appeared, in that instant, similar to the movement of the gargantuan beasts that emerged from beneath it.

 

 

“There she is!” Clam's voice cut her observation short. She directed her gaze forward to see a gigantic form resting across the beach that, perhaps at one time, could have been considered a vessel, meant to embark across the vast Atlantic.

Now, the stern was about the only choice section that could still be considered halfway intact.

Raven noticed as she drew closer that it almost looked as though a massive tidal wave had simply picked the ship up and threw it into Carnate; the entire bow was crushed, leaving that which it was once comprised of strewn out across the immediate area. Crates, barrels and other such memoirs joined it.

 

There was little to nothing left of what could have been considered the center, making both sides of the shore accessible, but only by journeying through the wreckage. Bent and chipped support structure was all that remained, till the cargo hold took place, towards the very back.

 

 

“To my understandin'” Clam continued, taking a sudden wary pace towards the ship, “few were killed in the crash itself, though the traders did not free their still living Human cargo. Instead, they left them shackled in the ship's hull, where slowly, the Negroes were eaten alive by rats…”

His lecture ended prematurely when he cast a sidelong glance towards the shore, to see a fresh horde of the creatures emerge from the waves.

“Damnation, here come more of them!” He cursed then retreated toward the canyon-like wall.

“Hurry!” His attention rounded to Raven, “Get back to the dock and grab as many cocktails as you can! It's the only way!”

The mystic nodded compliantly, and started for the docks.

 

 

After she was within a safe distance, Clam turned back toward his opposition. They had gained a remarkable distance toward him for their usual `step-drag-step-drag' movement.

A scowl creased the aging man's features as he held out a moltov.

“I'll be damned if I came this close to freedom just to die here.” He stated, then flung the explosive into the center of the mob.

 

 

The shrill sound of busting glass screamed over the air, leading into a new massive inferno.

Only one was brought down in the end, although the remaining numbers were left badly burnt.

“Annihilation is here!”

Clam rushed forward, and lobbed another moltov out, then followed it up with one more, eliminating his last defense.

A moment later, two more hit the ground, sending the significant quake that that promised their death out across the earth.

 

 

Raven stopped abruptly as she came to terms with what she was seeing. She had returned from the docks with an arm-full of cocktails, but was welcomed by a less than warm scene.

Clam dropped to the ground just in time to dodge the lethal sphere of a morning star, then rolled to the side seconds before it came crashing down like an iron meteorite.

There was no time for him to carry the assault further, and in consequence, his life was on Raven's shoulders.

 

 

The cache of moltovs fell from her grasp, and landed gently upon the sand. The mystic dropped down beside them and pulled three to their own pile; there was only one plan capable of safely ending this that she could think of.

 

 

Clam had almost recovered to an upright position, but another wide swipe was quick to interrupt him. He sprang out to the right, and was granted more distance between the two remaining monsters and him. Although hopeful plans of retaliation were quick to bud from this, they saw no conclusion before the occult once more found its way into the altercation.

No more than a second after Clam had risen to his feet, something flew by his head.

It traveled at such an incredulous speed that he saw only a vague blur of darkness, then a massive explosion.

Clam concluded, as he dove for cover that whatever came to his assistance was no single moltov.

The fire left behind that thoroughly barbecued the two remaining brutes was the result of three, four, maybe five thrown at the same time.

 

 

Raven stood in silence as the bonfire entered its initial stages, causing the temperature to skyrocket. An inward wince struck her when Clam approached; he looked like he'd just had an epiphany.

“You know, I had the gut feeling from the second I saw you that you weren't entirely human…”

He stated, his voice slightly weak, “But that's hardly relevant at the present moment. My only concern is getting off this island. If it weren't for those water-logged abominations, I'd be able to set my raft assail…it's a tiny vessel, far too small and un-seaworthy to accommodate more than one person…probably not even one who weighs as much as yourself…I'll show you.”

 

 

The mystic breathed a sigh of relief at Clam's nonchalance; he simply turned and proceeded toward the hole in the slave ship. Before following suit, she paused just briefly to observe her handiwork. The fire was growing exponentially larger, and cutting close to the slave ship.

 

“My raft's not much, but I pray it will be enough.” Clam remarked from the other side as she made her way through the Hull of the ship.

The scene that was beheld in the interior sent a chill down her spine.

It was narrow; a claustrophobe's nightmare. The flooring, what little of it showed through the sand and murky water that had collected over the some two hundred years, ran towards the stern till it met a wall with a frame-way in the center, leading further still toward the rear.

But none of this caught Raven's eye quite as much as the bodies.

What little remained of the misfortunate slaves were ducked against the walls, their rusted chains still fettering them. Far beyond the decomposition stage, it was a strange wonder that they were still in such a well preserved state; some still possessing withered flesh upon their bones.

 

 

Raven swallowed hard, and strode the remaining distance to reunite herself with Clam.

On the other side of the cursed ship, the beach stretched out for as far as the eye could perceive.

She noticed, as she arrived, a foul, acrid odor hanging thick in the air, and looked toward the earthen wall to see a man-sized sewage pipe protruding from it.

“If my theory is correct…” Clam's voice rose from behind her. She turned to see the convict knelt down before the shoreline, making adjustments to an incredibly small makeshift raft.

“The perpetual spawning of these creatures have some sort of tie to that ship…I'd sooner believe it is the manifestations of the traders, forced to repeat the fate they bestowed upon the slaves.”

He finished whatever work he was doing on the getaway boat and turned to face Raven.

“If you can get in that ship and find a way to destroy it, I may be able to set sail and leave this God forsaken island.”

The mystic replied with an incredulous look, which he quickly cued into.

“My flimsy raft cannot hold the both of us, ma'am, and I do hate to leave you here, but I applaud to your humanity. At least let it do me some good.”

“Well…” Raven cast a thoughtful glance back toward the pipe, “Actually, I was hoping to get into Abbot…”

“Abbot?” Now it was Clam's turn to offer a slightly awestruck look. “I clambered out of that sewage drain to escape from Abbot…I wonder now if I wouldn't just be safer going back inside. But I can't turn back on my plan now, not after I've come this far. If Abbot is what you want, I could make helping me out worth your while…”

The two exchanged solemn stares for a moment, before Raven nodded her head.

“Sure.” And allowed a thin smile to cross her lips.

 

 

Their hands met in a sealing shake, but it did not endure before Raven, whom was facing the incoming waves, caught an eyeful of another band of colossal fiends pierce the water's surface.

Her eyes widened in alarm as she murmured, “Clam!”

The elderly man followed her gaze to that which she saw.

“At just the moment I anticipated…” He stated discerningly. “Time is of the essence. Take a cocktail and find a good place inside the ship to set it aflame, I'll hold them off!”

 

 

Without so much as a nod, Raven dropped all but one motlov and started for the ship.

Almost the instant she found herself back inside the hull, an explosion was heard, shortly followed by Clam's shout, “YOUR JUDGEMENT DAY IS AT HAND, FILTH!”

 

 

Doing her best to shut not only the ongoing battle, but the ghastly scene that presided in the ship out, she cleared her mind, and proceeded through the frame-way, into the next room.

It was no improvement, but rather an amplification of its predecessor.

With the dimensions, it was clearly the primary hold. The next two stories of the ship were accessible, right up to the deck and on every walkway, every staircase, on every conceivable open space of the walls, there were bodies. Some held fast to each other in their last moments of life, others curled helplessly in the corners, but in likeness, they all met the same terrible fate.

 

 

Raven whipped back and shut her eyes tight, feeling a little bit of her innocent sanity leave her at this, but there came no rest for her. There came only further trial as one of the brutes begun to emerge in the center of the hold, where sand primarily took the ground.

She was promptly assaulted by the heavy iron ball, but sprang away just as it came sweeping through the space she once occupied.

Again, the beast flung its weapon out, but instead made contact with several corpses of the slaves, missing its intended target by a hair. As heads, arms and other appendages flew across the hold in the wake of its second miss, it brought the morning star up once more and pulled an overhead swing, but accidentally caught a shelf that was home to several barrels behind it.

 

 

The wooden containers busted apart and their liquid contents spilled into the water that occupied much of the ground. Raven paid it no mind, till she noticed that it was failing to mix with the water, and simply bled black into it, indicating that it was insoluble.

Subsequently, the familiar stench of gasoline hit her nostrils.

 

 

In as swift and fluid of a motion as she could muster, Raven flung the cocktail into the water with as much strength as she could muster, and rushed out through the frame-way.

A moment later, the hold erupted into flame, immediately dousing the walls, the support beams, the slaves and everything else.

 

 

Her immediate urge, as the blaze took the rest of the ship in relatively short time, was to leave before it caught up with her locale, but something momentarily froze her.

The brute that she had engaged had yet to fall. It flailed and thrashed wildly, but if it or the circumstances were anything like they had been for the past few encounters, it should have been dead long ago.

It took one more labored step towards her, before immediately ceasing all movement.

A deep, disembodied howl tore out from behind its mask.

Raven looked down to the torso to see rats escaping from its stomach. Some slipped through the incision, but many clawed and bit their way through the its flesh.

As they trailed down its leg, the rodents scrambled away, and shortly following, the beast doubled over.

 

 

After it hit the floor, Raven wasted no more time to watch, and made sure to double her speed when she looked up to see much of the support structure already catching fire.

 

 

The mystic was surprised as she exited back to the shore to see an already departing Clam.

His raft bobbed upon the undulating surface of water at a slow-but-sure pace.

“You have my eternal thanks, ma'am!” He called cheerfully while waving, “I've left you a map of Abbot at the entrance of the sewage pipe, and if you're going back there, I offer a word of warning!”

Raven's eyebrow arched in intrigue, “What's that?”

“Don't be so quick to trust other inmates, should you find any. There's a man I fear may have gotten loose in all of the chaos…a big fella' by the name of Mchail. He was convicted a few years ago of molestin' and murderin' his small daughter, and if the two of you happen to meet, well…”

 

 

He paused, but quickly started back up as the raft begun to pick up speed, “Suffice to say, I don't think he's gonna' let these circumstances stop him from returning to his old evils…”

 

 

Raven nodded, and watched till the raft was a safe distance from Carnate. Afterwards, she turned and begun to assess just how to reach the sewage pipe.

Unbeknownst to her, the very subject of Clam's warning was less than hundred yards down the shore, watching as she climbed in.

Hortense stood with his arms folded across his chest, and let his trademark, appalling grin crack across his face.

“Nothin' like the fresh meat…” He remarked silently while on-looking.

“You're gonna be all Hortense's in just a lil' while, but not right now…not till the moment's perfect…” A malicious cackle followed.

“Not till the gettin's good.”

 

 

-End chapter 17-