Fletcher kept his steps soft as he sneaked through the conversion facility. The directions he stole from the [Undine’s] thoughts were on repeat in his mind. He wouldn’t have expected the soldier to know Heather by name, but apparently his friend had made something of a name for herself while a prisoner. The problem with that was that meant Heather was locked up tightly, and it might not be easy to free her.

  He clutched the gun in his hands tightly. An automatic rifle of some kind. Fletcher wasn’t all that well versed in firearms, but he knew enough that he could shoot this thing if it came to it.

  He really hoped it didn’t.

  If everything went according to his plan, he’d get Heather, escape, and send the Mixed down the secret entrance to rescue the others before the Unhumans were any the wiser. While it seemed selfish to only guarantee the safety of Heather and not go back to the Mixed immediately with this entrance, Fletcher had to be sure that Heather made it out. And this way he could scout out the situation and make a full report when he got back.

  As much as he’d love to free all the prisoners and lead the charge to safety, based on the refugees from the upper level, it was likely many of them wouldn’t be able to move quickly or even without help. Fletcher was just one guy. He couldn’t save them all in that case.

  The hallways remained empty, just as the [Undine’s] thoughts had promised him. Fletcher still moved quickly, not trusting it to stay that way forever. Heather was being held in an area separate from the rest of the prisoners. There was something special about it, but he didn’t understand the Unhuman language well enough to know what it was. He’d learn when he got there.

  Hopefully it’s not that she has private guards or something, he thought to himself, but the gun in his hands reminded him that he was prepared even for that situation.

  After several minutes, Fletcher came to a long corridor which was lined with metal all along the walls, marking a stark difference from the rest of the facility he’d seen so far. Keeping the gun at the ready, he walked towards the single door waiting at the end of the hallway.

  As he reached it, he slowed and studied the door closer. It was composed entirely of metal, and it looked to be exceptionally thick and heavy-duty. Instead of a handle, it had a wheel at the center used for locking and unlocking.

  Fletcher double checked he was still alone in the hallway and then set his gun to the side and spun the wheel.

  Or rather, tried to spin the wheel. It ended up taking a monumental effort from him, but he was eventually able to unstick it and get it to rotate. Once it no longer moved, Fletcher adjusted his grip and slowly pulled the door open.

  The first thing he noticed was the tingling, a familiar sensation which he immediately recognized as being from Hex radiation.

  I convert slower than any other species. A little radiation isn’t going to hurt, he told himself as he grabbed his gun and walked into the dimly lit cell.

  At the center was a naked, bleeding woman. Her blonde hair was gone, replaced by tan fur which covered almost all of her body. Feet like those of a monkey stood in place of normal Human feet, and Fletcher had a sinking feeling that he might already be too late.

  “Heather,” he called out as he ran to her.

  She rolled her head up to look at him with her distinctly blue eyes, the one thing about her that still seemed to be her.

  Heather blinked in surprise. It was her, though it took effort to recognize her through the outward [Vanara] attributes.

  “F-fletcher?” Her voice was faint and broken. “B-but… you—”

  “Died? Yeah, not quite. Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” Fletcher reached down and carefully wrapped his arms around her thin frame. He grimaced as he lifted her up, worried with how little she weighed.

  Heather groaned and gasped as he repositioned her so just one arm was around his shoulders. He could have carried her, but he wanted a hand free for his weapon. It might be better to have her on his back, but he didn’t know if she had the strength to hold on that way so this was the best option at the moment. The tingling was stronger inside the cell, but he had yet to get any kind of notification about increased conversion percentage, so he figured the radiation couldn’t be too overwhelming.

  “Hang in there, Heather. We’re headed to safety,” he promised her as he slowly turned them around to face the door.

  He stopped upon seeing a [Werewolf] coming down the hallway, racing towards them. If the Unhuman got to the door before they got out, he’d easily trap them both inside.

  Fletcher raised his gun and pulled the trigger, desperation once again winning out over his desire to not kill. The sound of gunfire echoed heavily around the small metal room, drowning out any other noise. The [Werewolf] was shooting back, but Fletcher kept his finger on the trigger, determined to win.

  The [Werewolf] went down at the same time Heather’s weight pulled Fletcher to the ground. Fletcher rolled over with a groan. As he tried to crawl to her, white, hot pain spawned in his left thigh, dragging him back down.

  With shaking hands, Fletcher sat up just enough to see red coating his pant leg. There was blood all over the ground as well. Far too much to be from just his leg.

  He looked over to Heather who was lying still.

  “No, no, no,” he murmured, dragging himself to her side and gently rolling her over.

  Two holes in her furry abdomen pumped out blood at an alarming rate. Fletcher put his hands on the wounds, but it was a futile effort. Heather’s chest barely moved.

  “Stay with me, Heather. We’re going to get out of this,” Fletcher said. He cradled her shoulders. “Stay with me.” Shouldn’t the radiation be healing her? Surely if it could fix already filled cavities, it could handle a couple of bullet wounds.

  A fuzzy hand touched his cheek.

  “T-thanks… for t-trying,” Heather whispered.

  “No. You can’t go yet, Heather. I’m going to get you out of here. Just hold on.” Fletcher tried to stand, but his leg couldn’t hold his weight, and he remained on the ground.

  “I-I’m s-s-scared.” Heather’s hand fell from his face.

  She was gone, and the last thing she ever experienced was fear and pain due to Fletcher’s inability to protect her.

  He pulled her body close as a tear escaped his eye. “I’m so sorry. I really thought I could do this.”

  Fletcher’s mourning was rather rudely interrupted by a furry hand grabbing his hair and yanking him away. He gaped up at the [Werewolf] he thought he’d just killed. There were plenty of holes in him, but the Unhuman seemed unbothered by them.

  Right, [Frenzy] was a thing…

  The [Werewolf] smiled at him, showing off a wicked set of teeth. He picked Fletcher up by the throat and held him in the air, squeezing just enough to cut off most of his air.

  “A little jemlk’wp spy, just for me?” He licked his lips. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with you.”

  Fletcher kicked his feet out, trying and failing to catch the [Werewolf’s] body. He also failed at his attempts to pry the [Werewolf’s] fingers from his neck, choking out each strained breath.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The [Werewolf] pulled him in closer, and his hot, rotten-smelling breath washed over Fletcher’s face. “Your pack left you behind, boy. You’re all mine, and unlike your dear friend, no one will be coming to save you.”

  Spots danced across Fletcher’s vision, and his flayings became more erratic and weak. Memories played in his mind—watching movies with his dad, playing in the park with Javier as a kid, teaching an Unhuman class for the first time, Jeric racing down the hallway towards him…

  Jeric…?

  Fletcher blinked as he realized that that part wasn’t in his head. Jeric was here. But how? Did the Mixed decide to breach the lower level after all?

  His questions remained unanswered as the part-[Bloodhound] pounced on the [Werewolf], sending all three to the floor. The [Werewolf] released Fletcher, and he laid on the floor, coughing and trying to find his ability to breathe comfortably again while Jeric faced off against the Unhuman.

  The [Werewolf] smiled at Jeric and growled in delight. He was on all fours, ready to leap forward when Jeric got to his knees and produced a pistol. Four shots later, the [Werewolf] was on the ground, brains and blood spilled across the metal floor.

  Jeric sighed, stood up, and walked to Fletcher. “What is it with you and [Werewolves]?”

  “How did you kill him? I shot it a bunch, but he used [Frenzy] or something.” Fletcher stared at the body of the Unhuman. His eyes passed by Heather’s corpse, and he had to look away before more tears could form.

  “Headshots kill, [Frenzy] or not,” Jeric said gruffly. “Can you walk?”

  “Yeah.” Fletcher pushed himself to a stand, but only made it halfway before falling back down. “Okay. No.”

  Jeric reached down and looped one of Fletcher’s arms around his shoulder. “You got a gun?”

  “I did. I don’t know where it went.”

  His friend shoved the pistol into his free hand and then dragged him over to Fletcher’s fallen weapon. Jeric took the rifle in his available hand, and then led the way out of the door as Fletcher hobbled beside him. Every step burned, but Jeric kept up at a relentless pace that was nearly equivalent to a jog.

  Two corridors later, they ran into more Unhumans. Jeric had them both down before Fletcher could even react, and they never once broke stride. In fact, Jeric increased their pace, and Fletcher was forced to limp-run with his shot up leg.

  They reached the hallway where Fletcher had originally entered, complete with the fallen [Undine] and a couple of other bodies he assumed Jeric was responsible for. More Unhumans came from the other side, and Jeric shoved Fletcher against the wall behind the cover of a bulkhead. From there, he got a great view of Jeric in action, gunning down the enemy soldiers while simultaneously avoiding getting hit.

  Once that was taken care of, Fletcher was once again hobbling through the hallway, jogging despite the pain and barely avoiding the strewn bodies of the Unhumans Jeric had just killed.

  He got another chance to catch his breath when they reached the ladder room. Jeric closed the door behind them, sending them into blackness.

  No [Skill] activated.

  “Uh, Jeric…” Fletcher started.

  “Personal [Skill]-shield. We wouldn’t stand a chance otherwise,” Jeric said bluntly.

  Why hadn’t he mentioned the shield earlier? Mentally sighing, Fletcher reminded himself that that was Jeric’s way. The man never explained more than he absolutely had to, which is why Fletcher found it so difficult to reconnect with his old friend.

  A flashlight beam appeared, and Fletcher blinked against the sudden influx of light.

  “Come on. Grab around my neck. You have to hold yourself on, but don’t choke me out. Also you’re in charge of the flashlight.” Jeric replaced the pistol in Fletcher’s hand with the flashlight, reholstering the firearm.

  Fletcher nodded and did as he was asked.

  “Flashlight down, dingus,” Jeric growled.

  “Sorry.” Fletcher adjusted his grip so the beam pointed at an angle instead of straight up and into his and his friend’s eyes.

  Jeric started up the ladder, and Fletcher did his best to keep his hold on the flashlight and around Jeric without strangling his ride out. And on they climbed.

  “How did you find me?” Fletcher hesitantly asked.

  “I’m part [Bloodhound]. I used [Sniff].”

  He didn’t ask anymore questions. He wanted to let Jeric worry about getting them both out of the facility.

  The original journey down the ladder seemed long, but going up seemed far longer. It didn’t help that after a minute or two of climbing, Fletcher heard noises from below. They were being followed.

  Jeric must have noticed too since he picked up the pace, but Fletcher wished he had the pistol instead of the flashlight since the beam was going to do a lot less damage to the Unhumans than a bullet.

  After too many minutes, they reached the top. Jeric got out and dumped Fletcher onto the grass as he set to work digging something out of the pockets of his utility vest. Fletcher sat up just enough to see him drop those same things down the hole before quickly shutting the cover and pulling Fletcher to his feet.

  Jeric dragged him away as Fletcher kept looking back, wondering what it might have been. He found out when a muted explosion sounded and the ground shook. Jeric didn’t even glance backwards, still hauling Fletcher back towards camp.

  Once they were a couple hundred yards from the entrance, Jeric reached his hand up to the radio in his ear. “Captain, I got him. We’re on our way back, but we might have some tails.”

  “I’m sorry about this,” Fletcher said. He supposed he should be grateful someone did eventually notice his absence or else his corpse would be next to Heather’s in that cell.

  Jeric snorted and kept pushing onward. By the time they reached the camp, or rather what was left of it—all the tents were down, and soldiers were loading the last of the supplies into the vehicles—Fletcher was gasping with each step. The pain in his leg had only grown, and sweat dripped from his brow.

  Nora and a man dressed in a medic uniform jogged up to the pair.

  Jeric released Fletcher’s arm, and he promptly collapsed to the ground, happy to be lying still for what he hoped would be a few minutes.

  “I’m so glad you’re alive, Fletcher, because that gives me the pleasure of personally killing you for this.” Nora crouched down next to him.

  “I’m sorry.” Fletcher heaved another breath. “I was just—”

  “Ah-ah-ah.” She held a finger up. “I don’t want to hear your excuse this time.”

  “Are you injured Sergeant Jordan?” the medic asked.

  “No,” Jeric said.

  “Go find the Colonel and report to him, Jordan. I’ll see you at the car in ten minutes,” Nora ordered.

  Jeric acknowledged her and walked away as Fletcher put his arms over his face and focused on taking deep breaths, begging the pain to finally subside.

  The medic knelt next to him. “I see the leg wound. Anything else?”

  Fletcher shook his head. “No.”

  New agony spawned in his body as the medic prodded the bullet hole.

  He sat up and reached for the medic’s hands. “Maybe don’t touch it.”

  Nora caught his arms and forced him back down. “Uh-uh. Let the medic do his work.”

  “But it hurts.” Fletcher tried to wrestle out of her grip.

  “Joys of getting injured in the field, Fletch. We have to remove the bullet now so you don’t bleed out. No painkillers allowed,” Nora said.

  “N-no painkiller?” Fletcher’s mouth went dry. He’d done the whole awake-during-surgery thing back in Bren’it’p after getting caught by Addy’s team, and that lasted less than a minute. He really wasn’t looking to repeat it.

  “Bullets, Captain. He’s got a couple in here,” the medic informed her.

  “What if we didn’t remove them quite yet?” Fletcher proposed.

  “Maybe you should have thought about things a little more before you went off on your little adventure, Fletcher.” Nora looked down at him with raised eyebrows and a forced smile. “You got shot, and now you get to suffer the consequences.”

  “Captain,” the medic said tensely.

  Nora shook her head and patted Fletcher’s hair. “I’m kidding.” She looked at the medic. “Drug him up, Sergeant.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The medic pulled out an injection tool which reminded Fletcher of an epipen and placed it on his thigh above the wound. He pressed a button, and a quick pinch followed.

  “It’s going to make you sleepy, but don’t try to fight it,” the medic said.

  Fletcher nodded slowly, already feeling some of the effect. He grabbed Nora as she moved to stand.

  “Wait, you need to let me explain. It’s not what you think.”

  She pulled his hand off. “I promise you that this explanation is going to go over better when I don’t want to rip your throat out, okay?”

  “Okay. It’s just… I’m sorry. This isn’t how I meant for things to go.”

  Nora rolled her eyes and stood up. “You’ve got him from here, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of him,” the medic said.

  Fletcher turned his head, watching his sister walk away. Once again he’d managed to make an absolute mess of his life. Fortunately, he didn’t have long to think about it before the drugs took full effect, and he fell into a dreamless sleep.