Amy Cross - Persona

“Good luck with that,” I reply, “but you’ll have to do it on your own.”

He pauses, before finally nodding. “I understand. You’re scared of what you might—”

“I’m not scared!” I say firmly, instinctively hitting back at that idea. “I just don’t see the point in raking up the past!I remember my military training, and that’s really the only part of the whole thing that’s any use to me these days. I’m sure the war was hell, I’m sure I saw awful things, but I don’t want to dredge it all up. Maybe they were right to wipe it from our minds, maybe no-one can live with the memories of something like that.”

“You don’t really accept that explanation, do you?”

“I’m starting to,” I reply, taking a step back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get on with things. I’m sure there are people who need your help, too.”

“I’m sure there are.”

I wait for him to leave, but once again he seems content to simply observe me. Finally, I turn and start walking away, heading toward the next ridge so I can check the next set of snares.

“Deckard tried to have you killed today!” Harold calls after me. “Are you just going to let him get away with it?”

Stopping at the top of the ridge, I glance back at him.

“He’ll try again,” he continues. “Don’t doubt that for a second.”

“I won’t,” I reply, before hurrying away. I know he’s right, but I also know that I need to be smart when it comes to my response. Besides, Deckard knows I’m tough, and it’s hard to believe that he really thought three poorly-trained idiots could bring me down. Maybe the attack wasn’t meant to kill me, maybe it was just a warning.

When I get to the next set of snares, I find one dead rabbit waiting for me. As I crouch down and start twisting the wire from around its neck, I can’t help feeling sorry for the poor thing, and imagining its final moments as it realized it was trapped and that it was about to die.

“One mistake,” I mutter, pulling the rabbit free and holding its corpse up for a moment. “Sometimes that’s all it takes.”

After examining the burned huts for a few hours I’m finally able to get a better idea of how this town worked, and how it was destroyed.

There was a large central clearing, much like Steadfall, with a dozen wooden structures arranged around the edges. Unlike Steadfall, however, there seems to have been one structure in particular that was larger than the others, suggesting either the home of a leader or perhaps the main building of a governing group. Asher has consistently refused to do anything that places herself above Steadfall’s citizens, but here at this other town it’s clear that there was a more obvious power structure. When I take a look inside the larger hut, however, I find only a few more burned corpses, but nothing to indicate who was in control of this place or what kind of town they were running.

What I do find, however, is a large circle carved into the wood, with two vertical lines running through the center. I’ve noticed the same symbol a few times, on walls and doors, and at first I started to think that maybe the town had some kind of official symbol. As I take a closer look at some of the corpses, however, I notice that the same symbol appears to have been carved into their skulls, which suggests that it was left behind by whoever ransacked the town and burned the place to the ground. Making my way to the darker, farthest end of the large hut, I find yet more corpses piled up in the corner, as if they were desperately trying to find a way out as the flames took hold.

It’s not hard to imagine what it must have been like in this place, right at the end. The inhabitants must have died in agony and fear, there must have been screams and, judging by the relative freshness of the rotten bodies outside, I’m starting to think that all of this happened just a few weeks ago. I didn’t notice any smoke rising into the sky during my journey, but there’s no doubt that someone came to this town and burned it to the ground, killing at least a hundred people who were living here. Something like that would take organization and manpower, it’d take a group of people rather than a lone wolf.

And they’d need to be led by a complete madman.

Stopping for a moment to stare down at more burned bodies in the larger hut, I suddenly realize I can hear movement outside. I step over to the wall and peer out through a crack, and sure enough I spot a figure creeping through the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing, edging closer.

“Told you,” Della’s voice whispers. “You should have run while you had the chance.”

“What’s wrong?” I call out, forcing my way through a substantial crowd that has gathered at the side of the hut. “Let me through! What’s happening?”

When I get to the front, I find that Deckard and a few others are already here. On the ground, Emma Lucas is breathing heavily and looking decidedly pale, while a patch of vomit is glistening in the mud nearby. One of the work trestles has been tipped over, leaving pieces of canopy in the mud.

“Don’t get too close,” Deckard says, putting a hand on my shoulder to hold me back. “She’s sick.”

“What kind of sick?” I ask.

“That’s what we’re trying to work out,” he says darkly, glancing at me. “Are you okay? You’ve seemed rattled since you were at the snares.”

“Surprised that I came back at all?” I ask.

For a moment, I see a flicker of irritation in his eyes. He probably thought that I’d have reacted by now to the attempt on my life, that I’d have confronted him. Figuring that I need to be smart and keep him guessing, I take a step closer to Emma, who looks as if she might throw up again at any moment. Crouching down while making sure not to get too close, I look into her eyes and see that she’s struggling to stay conscious. She looks deathly pale, too, with sweat glistening on her forehead. We’ve had sick people in the town before, but this seems more extreme.

“Emma, can you hear me?” I ask cautiously. “Emma, it’s Asher. Tell me how you feel.”

Her lips move, but she seems too drained to get any words out. Her whole body is shaking, as if she’s gripped by some kind of fever.

“It came on suddenly,” says one of the men standing nearby. “She was fine about two hours ago, and then she said she needed to rest, and then this started. Her speech began to get slurred and when she tried to move, she toppled over.”

“What do you think it is?” another man asks. “Is it some kind of plague?”

“Could we all get it?” asks a woman. “What if it’s infectious and it’s in the air all around us?”

Before I can answer, Emma leans over and vomits again, bringing up a trickle of pale yellow liquid that drips from her lips.

“She’s the only one so far,” Deckard says darkly, “but I’ve been worried about this for a while. People don’t always follow the sanitation rules we put in place. It was only a matter of time before someone ended up paying the price. Then again, this seems like something more serious. I’m not sure poor sanitation alone could cause someone to get this sick, this fast.”

“We need to isolate her,” I reply, watching as Emma starts retching. Yellow bile trickles from her lips, mixed with a little blood. “Do we know what she’s done over the past day? Is there a chance that she’s left the town at any point and maybe eaten something poisonous?”

“She’s just been working the whole time,” says Mary, one of the other women. “Since the three new canopies arrived today, we’ve been trying to get them unpicked so we can turn them into blankets. Just a couple of hours ago, we were talking about all the possibilities.”