Amy Cross - Persona

“You want to take control!” I sneer. “I know exactly what your end-game is!”

“If I wanted to take control,” he mutters darkly, “I’d have done it by now. Do you really think a girl like you could stand in my way? I’m trying to help you!”

“Then leave!” I tell him.

He opens his mouth to reply, but I can see I’ve finally made him understand that I’m onto him.

“You want me to go?” he asks, with a hint of hesitation in his voice.

“If you can’t live at Steadfall without causing trouble,” I continue, “then yes, I think it’d be better for everyone if you packed up and found somewhere else.”

He pauses for a moment, before taking a step back. “I haven’t been trying to cause trouble,” he says after a moment, “but I have been speaking out when I think something’s wrong. If you see that as a bad thing, then I guess we don’t agree about how the town should function.” Another pause, and it’s clear that he’s not sure what to do next.

I reach for my belt, to make sure that my knife is in place. I’ve got a feeling I might need it soon.

“Fine,” he continues, “I’ll leave. I’ve done my best here and I’m proud of my contribution, but I’m not going to stay if you truly believe I’m out to get you. I was planning to go and search for my wife anyway, so I guess that’s what I’ll do.” He pauses for a moment, before turning to walk back to the town.

“Maybe we should talk about this some more!” I call after him, suddenly feeling a twinge of regret at the thought of him leaving. Deckard has been here since the beginning, since the day I faced up to Vargas, and I’ve come to rely on him. “Wait! Maybe there’s a way back from this!”

Still walking away, he raises his left hand as if to indicate that there’s no point, and I’m left to watch as he heads toward the edge of town. I’m tempted to run after him, to make him reconsider, but after a moment I remind myself that he arranged for Ellis and the others to attack me. For that reason alone, I can’t ever trust him again, and I have to remember that Harold was right all along. Deckard was becoming a threat, and I need to be grateful that he’s decided to leave without a proper showdown. The situation could easily have become violent.

Glancing down at Emma, I see that she’s no longer shivering. I step around her, to check that she’s okay, but after a moment I look at her face and realize that she’s dead. Whatever killed her, I have to pray that it doesn’t spread to anyone else in town.

Standing in the doorway of one of the huts, the old man and I stare in at the pile of burned corpses on the ground.

“There are some people,” he says finally, “who came to the island because of the opportunity to become monsters. No laws, no rules… They came because they want to do terrible things.”

I turn to him, and I swear I can see tears in his eyes.

“I saw what happened here,” he continues. “Only from afar, but I saw it and I heard… I witnessed what happens when man knows no limits. I saw human cruelty unleashed in its most abhorrent form. I saw flesh being peeled from the bones of living victims. I saw a man biting out the teeth of a woman as she sobbed. I saw a man literally getting ripped apart by the hands of another man. I saw a skull being torn from a man’s face, still screaming at first as—”

He stops suddenly, his eyes wide with shock as he stares at the burned corpses. Finally, he turns to me.

“The ones who died in the fire were lucky,” he says after a moment. “They were spared the worst of what happened here. The ones who died out there, pegged to the ground, are also lucky. They’re gone now, they don’t have to suffer anymore. Do you know who I really feel sorry for?”

I wait for him to continue.

“I feel sorry for the people of the next town that gets destroyed by those monsters,” he continues. “I feel sorry for the victims who don’t even know what’s coming to them.”

I remember running through a forest, weighed down by body armor and guns. I remember diving for cover as energy blasts ripped through the air, and I remember trees crashing down on either side, missing me by just a few feet.

I remember the ground shaking as a battleship approached. I remember hearing more trees being split apart in the distance, and I remember the sound of enemy troops getting into position. I remember hearing blasters being fired, and knowing that hundreds more were about to be unleashed.

All these things are still just vague sensation, disorganized memories that seem to be floating to the surface all of a sudden. I don’t know what prompted them to come back, but they’re filling my thoughts.

I remember turning and seeing the rest of my unit taking positions, ready for the onslaught. I remember thinking we were out of luck, that finally we were going to die.

“Are you okay?”

Turning away from the daydream, I see that Harold is standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the dimming light of evening. My initial instinct is to tell him I’m fine, to say I need some time alone, but I can’t quite get the words out of my mouth. For perhaps the first time in years, I actually feel I’d like some company. Damn it, what’s wrong with me?

“Deckard’s leaving,” he continues. “A lot of people begged him to stay, but he said he had to go and search for his wife. No-one’s really buying that explanation, though. There’s a rumor going around that you asked him to leave. At least he’s being diplomatic about the whole thing. So far, I haven’t heard him trash-talking you to anyone.”

Stepping over to join him in the doorway, I look out across the clearing just in time to see Deckard walking out of town. A small crowd has gathered to send him off, although after a moment I realize some of them are actually trying to persuade him to stay. One of two people glance this way, and I can see the anger in their eyes. They probably wish it was the other way around, that Deckard had stayed and I’d been the one to leave.

“I should stop him,” I say suddenly, stepping forward.

Harold puts a hand on my shoulder. “Stay strong, Asher.”

I turn to him.

“You know this is for the best,” he continues. “Deckard is against you. Just be grateful that he’s leaving without putting up more of a fight. Frankly, I’m surprised. I expected him to make one final play for power, but I guess you made accept the inevitable. Now look at him, slinking off with his tail between his legs.”

I still want to go running after Deckard, to make him stay, but after a moment I remind myself of everything that has happened lately. I’ve been convinced for a while that he resents me, and that fear culminated in the attack earlier.

“What if I’ve made a mistake?” I mutter, turning and heading back across the gloomy hut. Stopping in the middle, I feel a gnawing sense of regret in my gut. It’s as if deep down, in the back of my mind, I know that this doesn’t add up. “What if—”

“You didn’t make a mistake,” Harold says suddenly, having stepped up quietly behind me. When I turn to him, he puts his hands on my arms, as if to hold me steady. “Deckard was plotting against you. Come on, Asher, you’re smart, you know that’s true. You made the right choice. Now you just have to hold steady.”

I open my mouth to argue with him, but maybe he’s right. I’ve never been so indecisive before, but right now I feel as if I’m constantly switching from one view to another.

“Deckard’s popular,” I say finally. “People like him, and they trust him. Way more than they like or trust me.”