Chapter 15- Nox

  After the initial racket, the communications stopped altogether. The distress call is from down south, an old car factory, the only location close enough to us for our line to connect.

  We give it another ten minutes for a follow-up and some explanation before we report it to HQ.

  Vikson is asleep at this time, so Dr. Breena answers.

  She inquiries questions we’ve yet to receive answers ourselves. With some more consideration, she sends a truck of reinforcements over, the police force on the night shift, a department who are on Lotus’s payroll for situations like this.

  “They'll be there in an hour, sit tight,” Dr. Breena says, then our connection cuts.

  I stare at the dying trash fire. An hour is too long. The intruder, whoever it might be, will be gone by the time backup arrives, another night wasted. It’s been a couple of months since the last attack, and who knows when the next one will be now that our suspect thinks we’re onto him?

  But there’s a chance it can be a hoodlum, a rebellious teenager, and that the other team already has him detained. Still, I want to be the one to report back to Vikson. And if it is Nox, the one we’re hunting for, I want to be the one who delivers him to Vikson the moment he wakes up.

  The factory is only a ten-minute ride from here. I can drive and see the situation for myself.

  I grab my AR and furl my velm.

  “You’re not heading over, are you?” Griffin asks me.

  “You can stay,” I reply. “We’ll be in contact. Hopefully.”

  Griffin shrugs and slouches in his seat by the fire—a person happy to remain idle and stay where he is in reach of Danita.

  I sling my weapon over my shoulder and sync directions to the factory. I considered telling Dr. Breena, but I can already hear her rejection in my head. It’s best to bring back the suspect first and explain myself later. But there won’t be much to explain when I present them with Nox dragged back in chains. Not a glorified moment I’d like to share with anyone else.

  Five miles onto the road, a connection buzzes, and I try the line. A weak voice response. An unintelligible sob.

  “Take a deep breath,” I say. “Help is on the way. Can you speak? State your name?”

  Kraken. He’s shuddering too much with broken sentences to be coherent. Plus, with our shaky connection, I can barely piece the story together.

  He and his partner heard noises from one of the loading docks of the factory they’re guarding. They found the source of the noise to be a broken gate. They searched and cornered the intruder at gunpoint.

  “But there’s something off about this person,” Krakens says. “We both felt it. So Sphinx shot him in the leg just to be safe.”

  But the bullet was useless. It did bring him down on one knee, but he launched forward a second later with prowess that snapped Sphinx’s neck within a pounce.

  “Like an animal,” he continues. “I ran for it. Emptied all my bullets on him. It slowed him, just enough for me to lock myself in the office. B-but…he—knocked down the wall with his fist with his bare hands!”

  That single line confirms the intruder is indeed the one we’ve been searching for.

  I sent a quick update to Griffin, but the line is empty. Damn it. I can’t go back now that I know Nox is within reach.

  After the latest report from Kraken, I’m slightly more hesitant to continue. Sphinx is dead from a single pounce. Even weapons are utterly useless against the culprit. If they can’t deal with him, how can I when bullets don’t pierce him? Does he have a bulletproof vest on?

  Despite the fear, I have a hunch that the wind is pushing me in the right direction. Maybe there’s something I can do with all the weapons on me. As long as I keep my distance, Nox won’t be able to reach me. I ride along with the wind, out of the highway’s exit.

  “Where is he?” I ask Kraken. “Is the intruder still inside the building?”

  “I don’t know,” he whines.

  Not good.

  “Where are you?”

  “Out back,” he says with a shudder. “Hiding.”

  “Leave. Take your motor and go.”

  There’s a faint sob before he replies. “I can’t…my foot. It’s gone. Completely cut from one of the machines when I tried to run. I barely made it out. I can’t—I don't…I need my foot to drive.”

  He starts sobbing, then stifles it with a grunt.

  “When are they coming?” he continues. “I’m losing blood. A lot.”

  They won’t make it in time.

  I’m only two minutes away from his location. But what can I do? I have no medical degree nor practice. He’s as good as dead. It’s better if I capture Nox so his death won’t be in vain.

  “Hello?” Kraken sobs again. “When are they arriving?”

  I consider not responding since it won’t make a difference. But I’ve never heard a man wail like this before. It’s hard to ignore his cries. So pitiful and wrenching, like a man begging away his last bit of pride for his life. Maybe it’s easier to put him out of his misery.

  No…I can’t be on the line with him and slowly hear him die. Scared and alone. No one deserves a death like this.

  “Take your belt and secure the end tightly,” I tell him. “I’ll be there soon.”

  He lets out an audible sigh of relief, followed by a shudder and a stifled sob. “Please.”

  I draw a pistol in one hand as I steer out the exit, loaded and ready, though they won’t do me much good from what I’ve been told. But I’m not entering the premises without some sense of security.

  The car factory is a lone-standing establishment in a plain field surrounded by flimsy barbed gates. The building is one story tall with a high ceiling, as wide as it is long, like a block. Loading docks are spread across the right side, and cargo containers and forklifts are scattered in the way.

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

  I speed down the alley to the parking lot where Kraken is hiding. My motor roars as I gas the pedal. I steal a glance at the loading dock’s gates. All are shut and locked, but I can’t help but think the suspect is only a single wall away.

  He’s in there, the voice echoes in my head. In there.

  My attention remains on the road. I feel it before I hear it; a warning from the prick of my neck.

  First comes a thud, a hammer into the metal gates of the loading dock. The metal wall crushes, forming a dent in the dead center, right before the entire hatch pops off its hinges. The scrap flies my way. I evade it with a quick swerve. The metal crashes and skids across the concrete.

  Such brutal force, one that doesn’t come from the average human. My skin forms gooseflesh. A delayed panic response. The shock forces my neck to crank back. Who is this person?

  At a glance, I sweep the culprit whole. He stands on two feet by the door frame. His upper body is enveloped in layers of dark clothing with an oversized hood over his head. An inconspicuous velm over his face. Covered from head to toe, average height and build. Just like the grainy figure in the footage, no distinctive features to identify. This person can be anyone.

  Upon seeing me, Nox put a hand on the wall. The brick cracks and breaks off in a chunk, as if the entire factory were made of pastries. Lifting the clump high above his head, he hurls it my way. My motor is already at the highest speed, dashing across the road, but the chunk is too large for me to evade, and it knocks the back wheel of my motor. My vehicle swivels out of my control, and I crash into the chain-linked fence, thrown from my seat. I tumble a few feet away from the collision, the rough pavement tearing away at my shoulders and hips. And if it weren’t for my velm, my skull would’ve splattered on the hard concrete.

  My heart races, fear creeping in from every nerve. I force myself to remain collected, but the most I can do is roll onto my backside. My head is spinning and throbbing on all sides, stars glittering in my vision. I must’ve suffered a light concussion. I stretch my arms out, my fingers and palm feeling for the hard ground, gathering my senses, and gently pushing myself upward to check if I’ve damaged other parts of my body. My left shoulder took most of the impact, and I'm mildly sore everywhere else.

  I push myself up despite losing a tip of my balance. My head is still foggy and confused. All I know is that Nox has dropped from the docking frame and is coming my way. I flee the other way. In mid-jog, the items in my pants reminded me of what I still have—my weapons. I lost my pistol upon the fall, strayed somewhere under a dock. I reach into the side compartment of my cargo pants and unpin the two grenades, hurling them toward Nox.

  I count down the seconds before turning my back and curl up tightly beside a post as the explosions detonate. The world rings for a second, the ground beneath me jolts. I feel the earth matter and debris scatter on my back. For a moment, I hear nothing but the sound of my own heartbeat punching against my ribcage.

  When the trembling halts, I glance over to see the suspect on the ground, hazily covered in smoke. And a lot of blood. The once smooth pavement is now broken and ruptured, mixed with what I assume are pieces from his body.

  Damn it. Vikson specifically ordered us not to kill the intruder. How am I supposed to explain myself? That I panicked in self-defense? Maybe if he watched the tapes from my perspective, he’ll understand.

  Despite the carcasses, I search for anything glowing—the Lotic-fuels in his bloodstream, cybernetics, flesh attached with foreign pieces. Anything salvageable, I can recover from the mess.

  As my eyes land on the last piece of flesh, a shiver crawls up my spine. Not a single piece of metal is found. They’re all bones and meat and sinews. I pick up a bloody piece off my shoulder and fling it off my fingers.

  I killed him.

  Carrying the rising nausea in my stomach, I bolt out of the alleyway.

  What am I fleeing from? He’s dead, and I’m still running.

  My mind is pounding, and my vision is melting. Where am I? There are so many cars left behind by former factory employees, all coated in a thin layer of dirt and debris. I can’t make sense of anything.

  The line statics in my ears. Kraken moans something unintelligible, but enough for me to grasp a sense of reality. I’m here. I’m here to save this guy.

  “Where are you?” I shout into my mic the moment it hits me.

  I search for any hiding places. The entire plot of land is flooded with them. Kraken can be anywhere behind any of these vehicles.

  “At the delivery exit,” he replies a few seconds later. His voice is thinner.

  I swing my head across the place and find the sign at the far end—a section of trucks on standby. I sprint to it. The course seems endless, passing and maneuvering countless objects. The worst is behind me, and I’m still in shock. Maybe Vikson’s right: I’m too inexperienced with this—seeing carcasses and experiencing death. I fathom this is what daily life is like for these hires.

  Despite my reality unfolding and spiraling all at once, I eventually make it to Kraken.

  I wouldn’t have seen him lying on the wheel between two trailer trucks if it weren’t for the screen detecting his orange tag. The sight of him pulls me out of my head, and the fret and madness begin to wane.

  Kraken is unresponsive to my presence. I follow the long trail of blood his wound left behind, stopping at a pool spilling from where his right foot should’ve been. The stump is tightly secured with a belt, as I instructed. He’d lost it from the factory and still managed to make it here on his own.

  “Hey man,” I say softly, tapping his shoulder.

  He jolts awake, his gaze unable to meet mine without wobbling around, with no sense of where he is. He’s bleeding out.

  “Where’s your motor?” I ask.

  He gives the same incoherent response. But it takes him another second to lift a finger, pointing outside the gate. He’d made it this far to escape, only to realize he can’t drive away.

  The walk to the vehicles isn't long, but it’ll be harder to take Kraken like this. But I need his chip to start his motor. There’s no other option.

  “Can you stand?”

  I don’t wait for a response and lift him from his back, then throw his arm over me. He leans on me; his grip is weak, but at least he’s grabbing onto me, the weight bearable for now. I remind myself I’ve trained for this in drills, and this is nothing new.

  We limp out in the open. Amid the hundreds of cars, I give one last look at Nox so I can deliver a detailed report. I spot my totalled motor, the broken earth, but not the body.

  An unnerving turmoil returns to my chest. Where’d he go? The damage from the grenades should’ve taken his legs out. I still remember the chunks of body parts littered all over the ground, literally inhaling the tangy fume of iron. There’s no one else, not his accomplice, not another party, so my mind comes to one conclusion: Nox is alive.

  And he’s somewhere roaming the grounds. My best hope is that he retreated.

  My mind is scrambled. I swallow down the revolting fear and carry on, as if I have any other choice.

  We leave the gates, and I put Kraken in the backseat of the motor. I sit in front. The engine starts with a scan of his wrist. The system isn’t paired with mine, so I have no idea where I’m headed. I drive anyway. Anywhere is better than here.

  I round the corner towards the highway, then catch a figure in the reflection of the mirror. His clothes are frayed, cut off just below his knee, swaying with the wind like the torn hems of death’s cloak. His face remains veiled, but there's no mistake our gaze locked in that moment.

  I panic again until I see he’s limping. His foot bent the wrong way as he trod toward me. Just retreat, idiot, you can’t even walk. At the center of my view, I watch his foot slowly rotate a full 180 degrees, returning to normal.

  He strides on two feet now.

  What the—

  He bolts after me; I floor the gas pedal.

  I take a deep breath, assuring myself that no one can outrun a motor vehicle. But for some reason, that comfort doesn’t come, and I’m expecting him to go full leopard speed and pounce on my back, or vanish from the reflection only to ambush me ahead. Because I’ve accepted the fact that whatever I’m dealing with might be supernatural.

  I lose sight of him at the next turn and head straight for the highway, passing the long row of parked cargo trucks. Another block goes by, and I don’t see him anywhere. Still, I keep an eye out for any disturbance. From the factory entrance, the highway is behind me. Anywhere as I head towards the slim entrance.

  Then a sinister hollow whine sounds behind me, the cry of a dying whale. There’s nothing in the wing mirror. I steal a glance over my shoulder to find nothing, only that it’s no longer behind me but from above—the belly of a cargo truck high over my head.

  Time stretches. My brain can’t register the view in my eyes. Had Nox thrown it up into the sky? That’s silly. My brain must be fried, if not my eyes, and if not either, then perhaps I’m trapped in an unending nightmare.

  But how can it be a nightmare when Kraken’s fingers claw into my shoulder? He’s witnessing the same event as I am. I feel the seat warm, the wetness of his uncontrollable fear soiling onto the back of my pants.

  I hear him moan. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  For what, now that we’re seconds away from death?

  It’s coming for us. Crush us, that much is clear. There’s no way to evade it from the way it’ll fall over the entrance. Thousands of suggestions for a way out crash into my head. My brain freezes there except for the voices at the back of my mind.

  Is this it?

  I should’ve listened to Vikson.

  Ama will be so disappointed.

  I can’t say for sure what it was that made my hands steer away from the entrance. My wheels screech, and I turn and skid down the local road, away from the highway.

  I pass a single car and a hydrant before I feel the weight crash behind me. The metal creaks, cars bounce on their wheels, the trees shake, the ground jolts, threatening to pull the floor out from under me.

  Then it’s silent again. Other than the loud hum of my engine, I hear nothing. See nothing. Feel nothing. All the way back to the Grand Wall.