Chapter 33: A Man and a Beast (I)
The radio crackled softly.
"Can you identify physical features?"
"No." His facial device only marked the heat of the human body, showing nothing but red and yellow amidst the darkness. "Just that he's moving east. This is the second time this week."
"Do you think it's someone from outside?"
"Also no, ma'am. This guy's taking the same route at the same time. I'm almost certain he knows what he's doing and when he's doing it. Do I have permission to immobilize?"
He needed an opportunity. The wind, the raindrops on his thick cloak, even his soaked glove gripping the bolt and wood of his weapon. Marcus hadn't even raised his ISE yet. He wouldn't aim at a civilian who hadn't done anything wrong.
Not yet.
Clara decided he should keep observing quietly. After two hours, the man stumbled out of the Research Center, dragging himself with an injured leg, almost tripping.
In the dead of night, Marcus heard the distant cries of the Felroz approaching.
Idiot, you shouldn't have done that.
The man collapsed to the ground, dragging something with his hand. Marcus watched as the man slowly crawled into a sewer while the creatures charged in a straight line, a pack of more than fifty. They crashed into walls, stores, and further drowned the silence in senseless chaos.
Creatures like the Felroz were only dangerous because they moved in groups. Marcus had lost count of how many he had taken down during early morning hunts. At least one of these black demons always wandered aimlessly through the streets.
Shooting them in the head was fatal. However, Marcus preferred to aim for their legs so they could feel the despair of being hunted and slaughtered.
More than half the population had been killed by them. He had seen children devoured, and elderly people dragged into shops on moonless nights. He had heard the sound of teeth tearing through flesh, their feeding frenzy. And yet, some of Kappz's residents said Marcus should show mercy to those beasts, as if they'd show it in return.
Mercy is just a word.
The weapon's safety was slowly disengaged. The ISE was raised, its stock pressed against his shoulder, his cheek resting against it. That day, his breath released a gray mist carried by the wind and smothered by the rain.
The metallic barrel always gleamed silver, but during the night, it glowed red, fueling the shooter's rage. A faint sound, not a loud shot or even a bang, escaped the weapon's muzzle.
Like a needle touching glass—the shot had been fired.
A second later, a Felroz exploded into pieces in the middle of the main road.
"One less," Marcus muttered, pulling the bolt back again. He lowered his hand to the trigger guard, brushing his finger over the trigger. "No hesitation."
Throughout the night, the screams of dozens of Felroz echoed across Kappz. The reason for their anguished cries? No one really knew for sure.
But rumors spoke of ghosts wandering the buildings near the Research Wing and the Reservoir. A ghost carrying a lantern tied to its waist, its face completely covered except for one glowing red eye. They said blood trickled from it.
"Good morning, ma'am Clara," Marcus said, stopping far from her and glancing at the workbench. Some screws had been tampered with, and his hammer was out of place. "Did someone mess with this?"
"Not that I saw."
Sitting cross-legged and breathing deeply, Clara clasped her hands near her waist, seeking a moment of peace. She tried to meditate and pray in the mornings. When Marcus or one of the children appeared, they didn't respect the silence much. She didn't mind the noise—it was just their way.
A whole night spent motionless to avoid trouble made people a bit restless come dawn.
"Someone definitely touched this," Marcus muttered again, stomping off toward the other building.
Minutes later, he returned with three nails and his brush. Irritated, he stomped as he walked. But his anger always dissipated when he sat at the workbench, his attention absorbed by modifying his weapon.
It wasn't hard to see how people had their own ways of passing the time. Simone liked reading to the younger ones, orphaned children who had lost their parents. Marcus cherished his carbine, polishing it constantly, adjusting screws, and tweaking its parameters. Clara found solace in morning prayers. Being there, beginning a sunny day after a stormy night, was rewarding.
They needed those hardships to truly appreciate the beauty that awaited afterward.
Her only recent interest was watching the old man in the red outfit wandering the streets alone. He walked back and forth, rummaging through wrecked cars and trucks. He seemed to talk to himself, leaning into car windows and pulling out small objects like pens, notebooks, and books. He piled them on hoods before disappearing into stores for long stretches of time—far longer than he should.
"What did you do with the medicines, ma'am Clara?" Marcus asked from the bench. "And the water, any news?"
"Tripho said there are ten more analyses ahead of other groups. It'll take time. I gave the medicines to Simone; she knows someone who can synthesize the powder we found."
She heard Marcus grumble but ask nothing further.
Clara kept her eyes on the store Dante had entered, waiting for him to return. Suddenly, the wall exploded, and the old man was dragged outside by force. A long, black arm tried to grab his neck.
She immediately straightened up. The Felroz swung its arm, and Dante jumped back twice.
Marcus joined her with his carbine already raised. He aimed, but Clara gestured for him to wait.
"The old man's still a bit banged up, ma'am. You're gonna let him get hurt again?"
"No, just wait."
They watched as Dante grabbed the creature's first arm and snapped it with a twist. He dodged the second swing and punched its underside. A moment later, the Felroz stopped moving, and Dante shook his hand to wipe off the black blood that dripped from the gaping wound he had left.
Marcus frowned instantly.
"He's a beast, ma'am."
"And a man too," Clara concluded with a soft laugh. "Can you gather the supplies he left in the cars and take them to Simone?"
"As you wish."
Marcus jumped from the spot, pushing off the wall with his foot and rolling when he hit the ground, as if the distance was nothing.
Clara continued watching Dante as he moved to other stores, pulling out more bags and piling them up. Marcus caught up with him and said something that made the old man look up at her. Clara hesitated to raise her hand, still sitting on the edge, but Dante waved back without a second thought.
A grateful smile and a wave, as if nothing around them was in ruins.
"I envy you, Dante," Clara murmured, raising her arm high in response. "I envy you for being able to smile so honestly."