Amy Cross - Persona

“Don’t let anger rule you,” Deckard replies. “We’ll deal with Ben and Leanne when the time comes, but Harold’s the one who’s in charge. If we can bring him down, the other two should be relatively easy.”

“We can’t just go charging in,” I point out. “Even if he lets his guard down a little, Harold isn’t going to make any huge mistakes. He’s too smart.”

“That’s why we have to plan carefully,” Deckard tells me. “They have proper weapons, which means our only advantage is the fact that they think we’re dead. As soon as we blow that advantage, we’re back where we started.”

I open my mouth to reply, but for a moment I feel as if Mads is close. Turning, I look across the darkness and spot a figure on the ground, writhing in agony. I want to go to her, to help her somehow, but I blink a couple of times and she quickly disappears.

“Asher!” Deckard says firmly. “Stay with me!”

“I am!” I stammer, turning to him.

“You’re not,” he continues. “You’re losing it, I can tell. Whatever’s going on in that head of yours, you need to stay focused on the situation we’re dealing with. There’ll be time to daydream later!”

I glance at the spot where I thought I saw Mads, but of course there’s no sign of her now.

“Sure,” I mutter, turning back to Deckard. “I’m fine.”

“Flashbacks?”

I shake my head, but I can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s not convinced.

“We need to scout the place out,” he continues, limping forward through the darkness. He’s clearly in agony, and when I try to support him, I find that he accepts my help. For the first time ever.

“And then what?” I ask.

“And then we come up with an amazingly brilliant plan,” he replies, “that wipes that son of a bitch off the island for good.” He glances at me. “I get it, Asher. Sometimes I used to have trouble focusing. I used to let my mind wander and I’d end up staring into space while I was thinking about my wife, about what might have happened to her after she reached the island. Sometimes the past is just too tempting.”

“Your wife might still be alive,” I point out, as we make our way across the sloping rocky ground.

“You don’t believe that and neither do I,” he replies, “but after all of this is over, I have to go and find out for sure.” We walk on for a moment, and I can tell from his pained gasps that he’s in agony. “She used to have this little tattoo,” he continues with a faint smile, “on her left shoulder. It was a picture of a boat that we saw once when we were on vacation. We promised ourselves that one day we’d buy a boat just like that and sail around the world. I couldn’t believe it when she got that tattoo, but she said it was to remind us of our dreams. We had no chance of ever being able to afford something like that, of course, but the hope kept us going through the darkest days. Until she finally snapped, anyway.”

“I’m sure there’s a chance you’ll find her,” I tell him.

“That’s exactly the point,” he replies, wincing a little. “There’s a chance , and however small—”

Suddenly a scream rings out in the distance, followed a split second later by another and then another.

“Steadfall!” I shout, filled with a sense of horror as the screams get louder. Without waiting for Deckard to reply, I start running through the forest, desperate to get back.

“Round them up!” a voice shouts in the darkness, as screams continue to ring out. “Don’t let any of them get away!”

Sitting up in the dark little hut, I see that fires are burning outside, lighting up the clearing. The screams started suddenly just a couple of seconds ago, while I was sitting here in the darkness and trying to work out how to locate Asher. Stumbling to my feet, I limp to the doorway and look out, just in time to see the silhouettes of terrified figures being dragged across the ground.

A moment later I see a woman running toward the fence. Just as it seems she might be about to get away, an energy blast flashes across the darkness, hitting her in the back and sending her slumping to the ground.

Pulling back, I realize that Harold and his friends have started to make their move. More energy bursts flash against the night sky, and it’s clear that weapons from outside the island are being used. Trying not to panic, I reach down to my belt, only to find that I no longer have my knife.

“Don’t kill them all!” Harold calls out. “I want as many as possible to be left alive!”

Suddenly a figure runs into the hut, almost slamming into me. When she turns to me, I realize that it’s Olivia, her eyes filled with fear.

“What are they doing?” she stammers. “I don’t understand—”

A moment later, someone grabs me from behind and slams me against the wall. Olivia screams, but she’s quickly shoved to the ground and kicked hard, knocking her out.

“Move!” a voice hisses, grabbing my collar and dragging me toward the doorway. I try to fight back, but I lose my footing and drop down, only to get pulled out through the mud.

All around, people are screaming as fires continue to burn. Some of the huts have been set alight, while the center of the town’s main clearing is burning bright thanks to a huge bonfire made out of all the crude tables and chairs we’ve managed to build over the years. Everything we’ve achieved at Steadfall is being systematically destroyed, and energy blasts regularly flash through the air, cutting down anyone who manages to make a run for the fence. After a moment I spot Leanne walking past the fire, aiming her gun and then blasting a man who tries to grab her.

Stumbling to my feet while still being dragged by the collar, I turn just in time to see Harold marching past the inferno.

“Put her in with the others,” he tells the guy who pulled me out of the hut. He glances at me briefly. “She’s worthy of special attention.”

I try to lunge at him, but something heavy slams into the back of my head, knocking me to the ground. Unable to get back to my feet, I’m dragged across the rain-soaked mud until we reach one of the other huts, at which point I’m pulled into the darkness and then shoved against a group of screaming women who’ve been tied like the corpses at the other town. I try once again to get up, but a moment later a rope is tied tight around my chest and I’m pushed back down. No matter how hard I struggle, I’m quickly secured on the ground, and the guy with the gun heads back out, no doubt to round up any more survivors.

“What are they doing?” screams one of the women next to me. “Where did they get those guns?”

“Guns aren’t allowed,” stammers someone else. “They can’t have them, they just can’t!”

I try to pull free, but the ropes are too tight. Filled with panic, I look down at the front of my tunic and see that there’s blood and mud smeared all over the fabric, soaking through to my flesh. The ropes are wrapped around my chest and waist, but the guy who put them in place was in a hurry, so I figure there has to be a way to get free. Feeling something bumping against my shoulder, I turn and see a woman still screaming and trying to get free. Looking around, I realize that everyone else is doing the same thing, and it occurs to me that maybe if everyone went limp for a moment there might be enough looseness in the ropes to let us slip free.

Unfortunately, I can’t exactly explain that, and even if I could, I doubt they’d listen.

Figuring that this is my only option, I twist around slightly and watch the nearest woman for a moment, and then I slam my head forward, hitting the side of her face and knocking her unconscious. As she slumps down, I turn to the next woman and do the same. This time I feel a thud of pain in my own head, but at least I manage to knock her out. The ropes are a little looser now but still not enough, so I twist around and look at the woman on my other side.