Fletcher came across zero resistance as he left the camp behind. The guards either didn’t notice him or didn’t care since no one said a word as he walked past them. He vaguely knew which direction to go to the medical camp, and while he’d never had the strongest sense of direction, he didn’t think it could be too hard to find it given they were mostly in rolling plains.

  After a couple minutes of walking, Fletcher decided that he should at least try to make this a quick trip so he could get back before anyone noticed he was gone—assuming anyone would notice that was—and so he moved to jogging. It actually felt nice to get some more movement after days stuck in a car and then a whole morning sitting in a chair watching a real life battle.

  The sound of people talking, yelling, and even a few screams guided Fletcher directly to the medical station which was handling the refugee line. Looking at the mess of people and then at the small triage camp, Fletcher had serious doubts about them getting through everyone in any kind of timely manner.

  There were more soldiers near the camp, but they were all busy with the refugees and the medical staff or looking in the opposite direction of where Fletcher was coming from—towards the direction he assumed the conversion facility lay in.

  He slipped into the crowd of the medical staff and the injured. As he ducked around people, his eyes were constantly on the prowl for Principal Caston. He wanted to see the man and provide some amount of solace and comfort if he could.

  And—if Fletcher was being honest with himself—he wanted to know how this happened. More importantly, he wanted to know if anyone else he knew from Alcett got Hexed and brought to the facility.

  It took several minutes of searching before Fletcher found Caston huddled under a blanket, sitting in the grass amongst a group of other rescued prisoners who must not have had any kind of serious injuries.

  He glanced around to ensure no soldiers were close enough to notice his intrusion to the refugees, and then he crouched down next to his former principal.

  “Principal Caston,” Fletcher said.

  The man’s brown eyes looked up at him with surprise before a sense of remembrance flickered in them. His tan skin was dirty and bruised, and significant parts of him were covered with the black shell that came with being an [Insectoid].

  “Mr. Anders, what a surprise.” Caston’s tone was bitter.

  “Yeah. My thoughts too. Are you alright?”

  He laughed. “I’m halfway to becoming a monster. What do you think? Though I suppose better than the man who died only a month ago. I guess that new job didn’t quite work out the way you wanted.”

  Fletcher bit his lip and decided to ignore the obvious bait. “How did this happen? You were always more concerned about Hexing than anyone else at the school.”

  “Unfortunately with radiation, it’s impossible to take every possible precaution.” Caston pulled the blanket closer. “As fun as it’s been seeing you, I think I prefer my own company.”

  “What do you mean? Caston, I need to know what caused this, and…” Fletcher’s voice trailed off. Maybe it was a little too cruel to beg the man for information about his friends when he’d just gotten out of prison himself.

  “And you want to know if anyone you cared about got Hexed. I’m not good enough, Anders?” Caston chuckled and shook his head. “I always knew that selfless martyr bit was a total act, but it’s nice to see you’re willing to acknowledge it too.”

  “It’s not like you’re all that interested in my company,” Fletcher said. “But I am sorry this happened to you. No one deserves this.”

  Caston held up a hand. “Spare me your pity, Anders. Save your freak-loving for the ones who actually want it.”

  He stopped himself from cussing the man out and reminded himself that someone had to be the bigger person.

  “Our school is next to a research lab. An accident there resulted in radiation being dumped into the building,” Caston said quietly. “The only three people there were myself, a custodian, and Heather Dawson.”

  “Heather got Hexed?” Fletcher’s heart quickened. “Did she—did they get taken to this same facility?”

  Caston rolled his eyes. “Yes. Your precious girlfriend is a Hexed-freak like yourself.”

  Fletcher stood up, scanning the crowd for any sign of his friend. The only problem was that he had no idea what species she was mixed with, so it might be difficult to recognize her.

  “She’s not here. She was more… resistive than myself, and they took her to t-the… lower level,” Caston said.

  “The lower level?”

  “The cells reserved for the worst of the prisoners. They claim that the treatment in the upper cells is heaven in comparison.” Caston looked away, on the verge of tears.

  Fletcher knelt next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe now. Thank you for your help. If you need anything at all, let me know and I’ll do what I can.”

  Caston gave a shallow nod, and Fletcher recognized his cue to exit. Standing back up, he crossed through the refugees and made his way to the treatment area full of medics and injured.

  He took a minute to look around and choose a proper target. His eyes settled on a woman who wasn’t actively helping anyone but was sorting through supplies. He didn’t get a sense of urgency from her movements, so chances were she was just busy enough not to notice who he was while not being so distracted that she wouldn’t answer his questions.

  “Excuse me, but do you know when the prisoners from the lower cells will be arriving?” Fletcher asked the woman.

  She continued her sorting. “Didn’t you hear? Colonel White has recalled the soldiers. We weren’t able to get to them in time. There’s no clear path down that far in the facility.”

  “Oh. Okay. Thanks.” He walked away before she could glance up and see who she was talking to since he was most definitely not supposed to be out here.

  His stomach was one giant knot as he moved back through the camp. Heather Dawson, one of his closest friends in Alcett was among those being left behind. Fletcher wanted to do something about it, but he didn’t know what he could do. Find Nora and plead his case with her?

  No, she’d just chastise him for having left his assigned spot. And if this order came from Colonel White, it wasn’t like she had authority to override it.

  Fletcher stopped walking as he reached the edge of the temporary medical base. If he ran, he’d be back to the command center in under ten minutes minutes, and given the state of this station, it was likely the others there were too busy to have noticed his absence. His excursion would be completely under the radar.

  But something Caston said came back to him. That part about faking being selfless. Fletcher shoved his hands in his pocket. Was it selfish to go back to the command center when there was literally nothing else he could do to help Heather?

  Or did he just believe that there was nothing he could do?

  Fletcher wasn’t a soldier by any means, but he had to at least try to do something. Last he saw on the screens, Nora was in the facility so if he could make it to her, he could explain the situation and maybe, just maybe, she could do something about it.

  Of course, in order to get to Nora he had to avoid the soldiers who stood between him and her. Thinking of that, Fletcher took a wide arc around the medical camp and towards where the facility was located. Probably located…

  He thought back to the cycat and nocturne slime incident and wondered if he was making a mistake in doing this. Was this just some ego trip he was on? Fletcher searched his heart, but at his core he knew he was doing this for Heather and the others, not himself. Nora would understand that. She could be a reasonable person… sometimes…

  Fletcher stopped and sighed. Maybe he was being dumb about this whole thing. He just wished he had some way of knowing what the best thing to do in this situation was. Seeing the future would be great, but right then he’d take just having a glimpse or a feeling of what he should do. All he wanted to do was help and make a difference, ideally by seeing Heather rescued.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  [New Skill Acquired: Intuition, Level 1]

  He glanced around, self-conscious of this sudden change. He wanted to be angry about it, but he’d learned with [Read Thoughts] that his Hexing responded to his wants. If it gave him this [Skill], it had to have something to do with the situation at hand.

  Making a face, Fletcher thought hard about his new [Skill] and was rewarded with another notification.

  [Activating: Intuition]

  His mind became clear, and a single thought entered his mind with more force than anything else.

  One person can accomplish what many cannot.

  “What does that mean?” Fletcher asked quietly to himself.

  He tried using the [Skill] again and got the same exact response.

  “I… don’t understand,” he admitted in a whisper. Was his [Skill] telling him that he could do something that a whole platoon of trained soldiers could not? That was… actually insane, and he didn’t believe that.

  But what else could it be?

  Fletcher paced the lonely field as he internally debated what to do. The hills shielded him from the soldiers and the medical camp, giving him the space to figure out what he wanted to do about this… if he wanted to do something about it.

  Maybe it would be better to forget it entirely and go back to camp. He wasn’t a soldier.

  But he needed to do something about Heather. He couldn’t leave her to suffer like that.

  Then again, he also couldn’t just waltz into an Unhuman facility and single-handedly free all the rest of the prisoners. That was crazy to even consider. He shouldn’t even deem it an option with how crazy—

  His foot stepped onto something hard and very not-grass like, jarring him from his musings.

  Fletcher looked down to see what looked like normal grass, but more probing with his feet proved it was definitely not. Kneeling next to it, he felt all the way around the metal circle and discovered it was a manhole of some kind. With enough searching, he located the latch and pulled it open to reveal a ladder down into blackness.

  “Another way in?” he asked aloud. His palms grew sweaty as he considered that any moment an Unhuman soldier could be coming up. But maybe this was what he needed to see. It looked like it led very far down, a lot deeper than a normal flight of stairs which meant it might go to the deeper part of the facility.

  And that medic had said that the reason they couldn’t rescue the lower prisoners was because they couldn’t get through. This must be the way into that. That’s what his [Skill] wanted him to see.

  “Okay. So now I go back to camp and show this to someone, right?” he asked aloud. Obviously no one answered him, but just to be safe, he activated his [Intuition] again.

  [Activating: Intuition]

  One person can accomplish what many cannot.

  “That’s… not what I expected.” Fletcher looked at the ladder and then at the hill which separated him from the medical station.

  This was stupid. Stupid on another level, but this [Skill] wanted him to go this alone, and for whatever reason, he was going to listen. His Hexing recognized what he wanted even in vague terms of attaining and activating [Skills] which wasn’t normal according to Addy, but he did trust it, as crazy as that was.

  “Just go in, scout around, and pop back out to report. Easy.” Fletcher wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and then gave himself one more second to internally panic. Once that was through, he took the first step down the ladder. And then another. And another.

  Soon he was methodically climbing down it, focusing on finding the next rung instead of worrying about how far of a drop it might be or how likely it was that he might die while doing this.

  After a minute or so, the light from above was hardly visible, and his sight became one of gray-scale outlines.

  [Dark Vision: Active]

  Whenever he lost his nerve, he reminded himself why he was doing this at all. It was for Heather, his colleague and friend. The one person who stood up for him during the summer when the Unhuman citizen thing happened. She always had his back, and he would have hers, even if this was more of an extreme situation.

  Fletcher’s Hexing and [Intuition] seemed to believe he could do something to save her, and he wanted to believe that too, regardless of how stupid the plan seemed at the moment.

  His foot hit the floor instead of finding another rung. He was at the bottom of the ladder and deep in the Unhuman conversion facility.

  Taking a breath, Fletcher shook his hands out and then quietly opened the door.

  [Dark Vision: Inactive]

  He entered into a completely cement hallway, supported only by metal beams on the ceiling and bulkheads along the walls with bare bulbs providing faint light. Even after seeing so much of it on the screens back in the command center, the vibes of the place oozed misery. The corridor was empty except for himself.

  He walked along the hallway, keeping in a half crouch just in case an enemy appeared. After all the fighting, he figured the Unhumans would be in a “shoot first, ask questions later” mood.

  His steps were soft, nearly silent as he went, but he stopped when he heard firmer footsteps coming towards him. Ducking behind the nearest bulkhead, Fletcher waited with a pounding heart, praying whoever or whatever it was would pass by.

  His thoughts flip-flopped between this is a horrible idea and I can do this for Heather as he waited. The footsteps grew closer, making it apparent that whoever it was would be passing by his hiding spot.

  Fletcher made a decision, acknowledging within himself that he was going to have to do something he’d been claiming to adamantly be against. He would have to attack whoever this was, kill them even, if he was going to complete this mysterious quest of his and save Heather. He didn’t like it, but he also recognized that what the Unhumans were doing here was pure evil, and he didn’t feel too torn up eliminating someone who was so willing to torture other people.

  The footsteps reached him, and as the Unhuman passed, Fletcher reached out and grappled them. It was an [Undine] woman, which was lucky for him since [Undine] weren’t all that tall or outwardly strong. She fought against him, twisting to try to get her weapon out.

  Fletcher released her and grabbed the gun, but in his attempt to yank it from her, they both lost control and it flew across the hallway, far from both their reaches.

  The [Undine] growled and produced a knife from a sheath on her thigh.

  “Crap,” he muttered under his breath. He ducked as she sliced towards him before tackling her to the ground. He didn’t stand a chance against a knife when he was unarmed, but he could leverage his superior height and strength in a wrestling match.

  She kept hold of the knife and tried to slice him. Fletcher jerked out of the way and instinctively grabbed the hand holding the dagger. Before he could even think about it, the other hand joined the hold and forced the blade down into her chest.

  The [Undine’s] eyes went wide, and she struggled to breathe.

  Fletcher wanted to panic, but he kept hold of himself to focus on the dying Unhuman who might be able to give him valuable information.

  “Where are the prisoners on this level being kept?” he asked.

  “Jemlk’wp,” she breathed out.

  “Where?” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, but he realized it would do no good.

  She was dying, and she knew it. She wasn’t going to tell him anything, and he wanted to scream knowing the information he needed was trapped in her mind. If only he could read her mind.

  Wait a second. He could [Read] her mind. While his other attempts at using [Read Thoughts] hadn’t gone well, this was different. He was choosing to use it, and there was only one other person around.

  “Where are the prisoners being kept?” he asked again while also putting a lot of thought into activating his other [Skill].

  [Activating; Read Thoughts]

  She smiled at him as blood leaked from her mouth. “I’ll never tell you, Human scum.”

  His mind filled with her voice, a faint echo which wasn’t quite physical, but it was all in the Unhuman tongue since the translation magic only worked on vocal communication. Fortunately, Fletcher had learned quite a bit of the Unhuman language, enough to pick out the key words he needed to understand the directions.

  “I’m specifically looking for Heather Dawson,” he said, hoping to get a little more specific. He had to see her go free.

  The [Undine] laughed with strangled breath, but her thoughts were his, and he got his answer. Images and words flashed through his brain. However, this would never work if he ran into more Unhumans. Fletcher still wasn’t a fighter.

  “Where are the other Unhumans on this level?” he asked his dying prisoner.

  The [Undine] gave up taunting him as her breath became more shallow. Her thoughts dimmed, but Fletcher got what he needed from her. Best he understood, all the Unhumans were focused on where the Mixed had been, preparing for another wave. This whole floor was basically unguarded as long as he avoided the hot spots where the fighting had originally been.

  “I’m sorry,” Fletcher said as the [Undine] breathed her last breath.

  [Deactivating: Read Thoughts]

  The Unhuman fell from his grasp, and as grisly as it was, he pulled the knife from her body and wiped the dark blood off on her clothing. It was uncomfortable touching a corpse—especially one he’d just killed—but he removed the strap for the knife from her leg, wrapped it around his own, and then sheathed the blade. Finally he checked her pockets just in case she carried keys or something he might need. All he found was a small USB which he pocketed. It might come in handy somewhere else in the facility, and if not, maybe the Mixed could use whatever information was stored on it.

  He stood up and collected the fallen gun. Hopefully he wouldn’t need the weapon, but it was better to be safe. Whatever part of him wanted to run away had given up trying to control him. Fletcher was going after Heather. He would get her out, maybe even all the prisoners. The Mixed may have given up on these people, but he wouldn’t.