Blood Tempest: Chapter 2

Home sweet home, for now. The wafting draft of roasting chicken filled the air with the aromatic scent of herbs and spices, and we all sniffed appreciatively as we walked in the door.1

"Hey guys," Chase absently waved from his spot on a nearby couch, his face lit by the flickering light of a television, recieving a video feed from a VCR and power from a small, portable generator, "Mr. Wonderful over there is fixing some grub."2

"Did I hear my name?" Ron asked, poking his dark, shaven head around a corner. He waved, smiling broadly, "You'll like this one-- it cost us an arm and a leg though." He waved his prosthetic left hand, winking.3

"We found a cache of food in the basement, the chicken might be a bit freezer-burned, but it looks like whoever was here cashed out early. We've got enough food, and not bad stuff either, for a few more days at least," Chase said.4

Chicken? My mouth was watering, and my stomach growled. Katie elbowed me in the gut, and I grunted in acknowledgement.5

"Pig, mind your manners," she whispered. I arched an eyebrow, but said nothing as Rick began to unharness body armor, casting various implements and tools of our trade onto the table.6

Grenades, knives, .38, .45, explosive rounds, some more knives... With Rick, the list was practically endless. He kept a careful stock of ammunition, and wasted no time training the entire group early on to preserve accuracy and supplies.7

"Brian, you'll need to setup the extra defenses. Katie and I will finalize the barricades, but if you need time to prepare..." He spoke absently, his tone neutral as he passed over a long-bladed knife.8

I took it hesitantly, "Alright... I'll get it started as soon as possible." Slipping the weapon into its sheath, I headed upstairs, feeling the eyes of my friends and teammates on my back more than seeing them.9

What I was about to do was enough to unsettle anyone, and they were concerned for my safety, and the sanity of my mind.10

Pausing midway down the hall above the staircase, I tapped one temple pensively.11

"If I were crazy, would I notice? Am I in a padded room somewhere... Is this just a dream?" I muttered, glancing around for a suitable spot. Finding an empty room, I closed shut the door, avoiding rolls of plastic wrap, carpeting, and wooden boards. The building we were in had been under renovation, and only the main floors had been completed.12

Up here, the light was dim, tinged by blue as the moon streamed in over the city's skyline. From where I stood, in the absence of normal light pollution, I could see the flashing lights of allied raid teams passing through skyscraps miles in the distance, or the distant, burning embers of outside encampments along the streets far off from where we were now.13

Half-kneeling, I took a deep breath and slid the knife carefully across my forearm, cautious not to bite too far below the skin. Blood welled up, and I placed the blade gently at my feet, red-tinged steel glittering in the faint light.14

The shadows shifted and stirred, and I became dimly aware that I was being watched. Shapes, ethereal and drifting, formed within the essence of the room.15

I was summoning the spirits of the dead. The dearly departed. Those who would perhaps never quite rest peacefully.16

And in a city where millions had once lived, finding them wasn't an issue.17

My blood acted as an anchor point, infused with a portion of my own energy and life, reaching out to the denizens of the dark underworld and bringing them to one point.18

Power ran through my veins like a hot-flash, passing through flesh and bone, seeking and searching for the restless shades. Small tendrils of ice formed in the air, along the floor, and open surfaces as heat was rapidly drawn from the room, fueling my gift. By now, both arms were raised to the air, and I was murmuring wordlessly, calling out to the dead, the vengeful.19

And they came.20

Men and women, restless in their eternal sleep, answered my call. Mothers, with the barest, transparent shadow of child. Fathers, families, and even the wispy silhouettes of the elderly.21

As they lived their lives, so they appeared in death. The most vibrant souls, bled of color, appeared almost tangible. I glimpsed at least one young girl, hidden in the midst of the seekers, staring with unreadable eyes.22

My voice rasped as I spoke, and I looked to each in turn, moving my gaze to one set of hollow eyes to another, "Protect and guard these grounds from intrusion, let no living soul be harmed within these walls."23

Thunder rolled outside, and frost began to coat the windows. I began to shiver uncontrollably as more and more joined the crowd, filling the ranks of the undead mob. More than I had expected or prepared for had arrived, and they were drawing in the ambient warmth and life exponentially faster.24

Spectres, shrouded in mist, flowed overhead and through the floor, dancing in shapes and lines, untouchable, beautiful in an eerie, unreal way.25

I gritted my teeth, "You are released, perform your tasks and, take one step closer to satisfaction." With those words, the hold of my will was released, and shapes began to fade away into the darkness, filling the voids with soft whisperings, prayers, and demands.26

"Brian?" Katie asked from the doorway, edging it open slightly, "Are you alright?"27

I smiled wanly at her, "Not much different from usual I suppose. A day late and a dollar short."28

"Well... Dinner is ready," she bit her lip, as though mulling something over.29

"What?"30

"What what?" She asked.31

"What's that look for?"32

"Nothing," she lied, "Just asking if you were ready to eat." She fled back out the room, leaving me alone in the shadows. I sighed, picking up the knife, scraping the frozen remnants of blood from the steel edge.33

"Yup, definitely insane," I said to my reflection, "Oh well, it's no less confusing than the real world, right?"34

"Of course not," I told myself seriously, "If you were genuinely insane, you'd notice right?"35

"Would I?" I asked plaintively, "I'm as balanced as anyone." I shook my head and let out an inaudible growl of displeasure, opening the door and heading downstairs. The stairwell was lit with the warm glow of laughter and life.36

I suddenly felt very tired. Lifting one cold hand, I studied my palm, looking for the hidden mysteries so many fortune tellers lived from, but found nothing. Whatever I was, it wasn't psychic, and I had no inkling of my future other than what was happening in the present.37

Ron found me there, sitting in the stairwell, my head resting back against the wall not too long later. He approached carefully at first, but gained confidence, "Hey man, there's still some chicken left, interested?"38

"Nah, thanks though. Not hungry."39

He grunted in disbelief, seating himself on the floor next to me, "So then, what's eating you?" He sat down slowly, favoring his good left leg.40

I shrugged, "I'm fine, just..."41

For just a moment, I met his eyes, and he seemed to understand, "You're worried over your talents, is that it? Makes you different? Afraid of being... Feared?"42

A single nod.43

Ron sat back, leaning fully against the wall, "Brian, you probably know this already, but I'll tell you anyway," he looked pointedly at his prosthetic left arm and leg, "After the Rift, my family was... Attacked."44

His face was sad as he spoke, a tear welling in his eye.45

"I was practically helpless, I held her, you know... When she died."46

"Your wife?"47

"Yeah. She was a good woman. We bled there together, and I had hoped I'd go with her when the time came." His face screwed up in remembered pain, "And then we were found by rescue teams. They pulled us from the fire of our home, but it was too late for her."48

He stared at his artifical hand, "But not for me. I survived, Brian, torture and fire. The blood loss was traumatic, and I still pulled through. It made me wonder, though. Did I have something to offer? A purpose still in life?"49

I soaked in his words, listening intently. We had guessed at his history, but it seemed as though only Rick knew what had truly happened that night. He had been part of the rescue teams, organized squadrons of New York's finest, working to save the city's greatest element-- its citizens.50

Ron's voice dropped, "And I realized, that for all those who had died, I wouldn't squander my second chance. I'm doing what I can, despite these," he gestured at his artificial appendages, "And I don't feel the slightest shred of remorse for their loss. But I would do anything to get her back... Serving and protecting the survivors is the next best thing."51

We sat there in silence for awhile, each immersed in our own thoughts. I glanced sidelong at him, and realized that he was breathing rhythmically, solidly asleep. Something between his fingers caught the light, and I saw image of his wife's photograph smiling back at me from his hand, held tightly.52

Cautious not to wake him, I pulled myself to my feet and wandered back downstairs, stepping lightly on the stairs while moving slowly. A shiver ran up my spine, touching the nerves, and I glanced back on instinct. My spot now was occupied, and I could see the dim outline of someone resting a head of long, shimmering hair resting against his shoulder. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly in a smile.53

"Sleep well, my friend," I said softly.