Anne Winchell - The Last War

He collapsed to the ground and everything sped up. The low murmuring he had been hearing became a scream, Kaela’s scream, and she was over him, pressing against his wound. Atheus stared at the place where he had been and where he was now with an amazed expression on his face.

“So that is what the superhumans can do,” he said. “Too bad it won’t save your lives.”

He approached them and Kaela stood up, placing herself between him and Atheus. He moaned, the shock of moving so fast combining with the blood loss to make him limp and unable to fight. She looked back at him with inexpressible sadness on her face, but he was unable to indicate that he was still able to fight. His body felt frozen and beyond his control as blood seeped from the wound and he fell into shock.

Kaela lunged at Atheus, who sparred with her almost playfully. She kept looking over at him as if trying to determine if he were dead or alive, and she called his name over and over with heart-wrenching pain until he realized that she thought he was dead. There was no way to indicate to her that he was alive, just unable to move. She must feel like the only person left alive in the world, he thought, and tears brimmed in his eyes. But she was too far away to see them. Atheus laughed at her and continued to parry her blows like a fully-armored cat playing with a baby mouse. She stood no chance. Raven tried to sit up, to move, to speak, to do anything to tell Kaela that she was not alone in the world when Atheus struck.

His fist slammed through her chest and reappeared out of her back and she stared down at his bloody forearm in shock. She managed to say Raven’s name one last time as blood began to pour from her mouth. Atheus pulled his arm out of her and pushed her limp and dying body to the ground. Raven was screaming, even though no sound escaped his mouth. Kaela was dead. No one could survive a blow like that. Atheus had ripped through her heart.

Then he heard footsteps approaching him and for a moment he remembered his childhood, hearing footsteps just like this after he had found his parents murdered. The murderer had approached him with heavy footsteps just like this, and he had killed the murderer. The footsteps were the same, but his body was limp and useless. He would not be killing Atheus today.

Atheus stood over him as he waited for the blow that would end his life. His parents were dead, Kaela was dead, Nalia was dying, and now he would be dead too. He shut his eyes and braced for the worst, but it didn’t come.

“Poor Raven,” Atheus said in a mocking tone. Raven opened his eyes and saw the díamont leaning over him. “Lost your little friend, and the díamont’s going to die as well.”

He raised a foot over Raven’s head and Raven flinched, trying to prepare himself for the pain, but instead there was a gust of air as Atheus moved away.

“No,” Atheus said, his breath quickening as if in anticipation. “No, I think it’s best if you live to enjoy this. When I’ve won this war, I’ll come looking for you. I’ll make you beg for mercy.”

Raven shuddered as Atheus turned his back and left. His eyes blurred and for a moment it looked like two díamonts were striding out of the ashes of Seattle. As soon as Atheus left, he managed to crawl to Kaela. Her lifeless eyes stared back at him as if in accusation and he shut them, then kissed her blood-spattered face. She deserved better, in life and in death. She didn’t deserve to be alone.

Medane picked up the distress signal a little before six in the morning and within an hour he had arranged for people to retrieve Raven from the ruins of Seattle. Ever since the boy had escaped Lethe two days ago, he had been on high alert because he knew if anything happened, Raven would likely turn to him for help. And he had, luckily. Raven must have set up some sort of emergency distress call specifically designed to be picked up by Medane because no one else heard anything, but Medane had found it instantly on his computer and knew right where to send the backups. He hated that he couldn’t go in person to rescue Raven, but it was only a five-hour flight. The boy was due to arrive any minute, and then the real trouble would begin.

Medane had convinced the rebels to reposition themselves outside of NeoLondon, finally, and they had taken Nalia with them. Visiting her was not as easy as it was before, but Medane still made daily trips into the rebel camp. They accepted him now and no one ever spoke about fighting him. Instead, they were prepared to follow him during the war; exactly what he had wanted. But when Raven showed up, he would undoubtedly want to see Nalia and Medane wasn’t sure Raven would still be capable of leading the world if Nalia died. It seemed inevitable that the girl would eventually lose the battle and give in to the bracelet since there didn’t seem to be a cure, and her loss would be especially hard if Raven had also just lost Kaela, as Medane suspected was the case. After all, both Kaela and Raven had fled Lethe’s protection, and now only Raven needed rescuing.

A brief alarm sounded and Medane went outside to the makeshift aerostation. He and what was left of the government were still stationed near NeoLondon in one of the buildings that had survived, and all ships had to land in the field nearby. This ship would be carrying Raven and Medane would be able to assess the damage.

As Raven limped out of the ship, helped by a young medic, Medane knew his face became an impassive mask. He had to hide the deep concern he felt as he saw the still-bleeding bandages on Raven’s waist and the heavy bruising on the man’s face and other visible surfaces. It almost looked as though Raven had been caught in Seattle’s bombing, although that was impossible. Medane stepped forward and gripped Raven’s arm, and the man returned the grip with a grateful sigh.

“You’re still alive,” Raven said.

“Of course,” Medane said, surprised by the comment. There was only one thing that could kill a díamont, and Lethe seemed content to let him live for now.

“I want to see Nalia.”

“Let me get you medical attention first—”

“No,” he said. “They fixed me up on the ship. I need to see her now.”

Medane nodded, seeing the stubborn look in Raven’s eyes. He escorted Raven towards the rebel camp, noticing that despite Raven’s attempts to walk on his own, he was leaning quite heavily on the díamont. Raven was in bad shape.

“Why did you run away, Raven?”

“He knew the cure,” Raven replied. “But it doesn’t matter. I just need to see her, I need to know.”

“You’re not going to like what you see.”

“I don’t care.”

They reached the camp and were surrounded by rebels, all curious to see Raven in the flesh after all of Medane’s talk of how Raven would be their new president. He didn’t look as impressive as Medane would have liked, but perhaps it was better this way. He certainly had their sympathy. Medane could feel the shock in Raven’s body as the rebels appeared and realized he should have warned the man about the radiation and burns that covered most of the people here. They were a shock to see for anyone, especially someone who blamed himself for the attack. But Raven seemed to take it all in stride and once they neared the tent that held Nalia, all of his attention focused on her.

She looked like an angel, or a creature out of a fairy tale: pale, beautiful, and unmarked save for the burn marks that were starting to appear around the bracelet. Her eyes were shut and her breathing steady, but occasionally her eyes would flicker as if she were caught in some nightmare. Raven pushed Medane away and staggered to her side. He pressed his lips against hers as if thinking a kiss would wake her up, but nothing could wake her from the sleep she was in now. Even if the bracelet could be removed, it was possible that enough damage had been done so that she would never survive.