Amy Cross - Persona

Suddenly I trip and fall, landing hard against the ground. When I get up, I see no more foot-soldiers up ahead but I keep firing anyway, sending blast after blast into the cold night air before realizing that the sound of the warship has stopped. Looking up, I see dark trees rising toward the night sky, and then I turn to check on Mads, only to find that she’s not here. With shaking hands, I look the other way and see Steadfall burning in the distance, with screams still ringing out.

Nearby, Deckard’s body is on the forest floor, with Ben’s a little further away.

When I look down at my trembling hands, I realize that I must have experienced some kind of flashback. Deckard’s death seemed to trigger something, and for a moment I was back in a war I don’t even remember fighting. Swallowing hard, I look around for a moment, but the foot-soldiers and the warship are gone. They were just memories, albeit of something that I think actually happened.

And Mads…

As screams from Steadfall continue to fill the air, I look down at the gun in my hand and realize what I have to do. Stepping over Deckard’s body, I make my way toward the burning town.

Gasping with pain, I try to sit up, only to feel a stabbing sensation in my shoulder. The energy blast might not have hit me directly, but it still caused a lot of damage, and I can just about make out glistening flesh and blood beneath my torn tunic. Every time I take a breath, something sharp slices through my chest.

Nearby, in one of the other huts, people are screaming.

“We’ll be next,” a voice says.

Turning, I see one of the town’s younger women, Natalie, watching me with fear in her eyes.

“I don’t know why he’s saving us ’til last,” she continues, “but it won’t be long now. He’s burning the others.”

Despite the pain in my shoulder, I stumble to my feet and head to the door. I can’t get too far, not with a rope around my leg that’s securing me to the wall, but I manage to peer out and see that most of the other cabins are in flames. Harold is making his way to the cabin next to this one, and he stops for a moment to stare in at the people he’s tied together. I can just about see their terrified faces, and while some of them are screaming, others are begging for their lives.

Ignoring their pleas, he tosses some kind of liquid over them.

“Please!” one of the women screams. “I’ll give you anything you want, but don’t kill me!”

Ignoring her, Harold takes a piece of tarpaulin and sets it on fire.

“Please!” the woman sobs. “Don’t—”

Before she can finish, Harold tosses the burning rag into the cabin. Flames erupt, and for a moment I can see the people inside as they desperately try to get free. Their screams and cries continue for half a minute or more, and Harold simply stands and watches as they burn to death. Watching the back of his head, I start to realize that he genuinely enjoys their suffering, that he considers this kind of execution to be an art-form. Some of the figures in the heart of the inferno are still moving, as if they’re struggling to get free, but they quickly slump down and fall still. Finally, as the flames continue to burn, Harold turns and stares straight at me.

“We’re the last ones,” Natalie sobs behind me, as Harold smiles and starts walking this way. “He’s going to burn us next!”

“Please!” Natalie shouts as we’re led through the forest, with a few other women ahead of us. “I’ll give you anything you want! Just don’t do this!”

“I can already take anything I want,” Harold replies calmly. “You’re not in a very good bargaining position. Just keep walking.”

“No!” one of the other women shouts, turning to him with fear in her eyes. “Please, just—”

Before she can get another word out, Harold fires a shot that hits her in the upper chest. She falls back and slumps to the ground, and her body twitches for a moment before falling still. One of the other women turns to run, but Harold dispatches another couple of shots, one of which hits her in the back and sends her clattering into a tree before she, too, drops dead to the ground.

“Anyone else want to run?” he asks, turning and aiming that gun at the rest of us. There are only four of us left now, and I can see from the murderous glint in his eye that Harold is itching to kill again. He pauses for a moment, before turning to Natalie. “Get on the ground,” he tells her.

“Why?” she asks.

“Get on the ground!”

Clearly too terrified to resist, she does as she’s told.

“Use these,” Harold says, tossing a couple of wooden pegs at one of the other women, Elizabeth. “Drive them through her palms.”

“I can’t,” Elizabeth replies, dropping the pegs.

“Do it or you’re dead,” he continues. “Only one of you four ladies gets to survive this night, and it’ll be the one who pleases me the most. Now drive the goddamn pegs through her goddamn hands!”

“No!” Natalie shouts, trying to get up before the fourth woman, Miranda, suddenly drops down and holds her in place.

“Do it!” Miranda hisses at Elizabeth. “We have to save ourselves!”

I watch, stunned, as Elizabeth takes the pegs and kneels next to the struggling Natalie. There’s fear and shock in Elizabeth’s eyes, but nevertheless she starts forcing a peg through the palm of Natalie’s left hand, ignoring the woman’s screams as she carries out her orders.

I take a step forward to stop her, but Harold aims his gun straight at me.

“Want another shot?” he asks calmly. “One can most definitely be arranged.”

Staring at the gun, I realize that although I need to stop him, I can’t just lunge at him wildly. Hearing another scream from nearby, I turn and see that Elizabeth has finished driving the pegs through Natalie’s hands.

“Very good,” Harold says with a smile. “I want all four of you in the same position. After that, we’ll work out who I let go.”

“How do we know you won’t just kill us all?” Elizabeth asks, her voice trembling with fear.

“You don’t,” he says firmly. “I guess you’re just going to have to trust me.”

He’s lying, of course. I remember seeing the bodies of his torture victims from the previous town and I don’t believe for one second that he’s even capable of showing mercy. I watch in horror as Miranda and Elizabeth tentatively sit on the ground and settle flat on their backs, as if they genuinely believe they can survive if they just give him what he wants.

“You know what to do,” Harold mutters, tossing some wooden pegs at me. When I let them fall to the ground, he smiles. “I don’t have to explain it to you again, do I?” he asks, stepping closer. “One of you gets to live, but only by obeying every order I give.” He pauses, eying me with a hint of caution. “I’d like it to be you, Iris. I feel we made a connection when we talked earlier, but you need to prove that I can trust you. Get on the floor.”

I shake my head.

“No?” he replies. “You don’t believe me?”

I want to tell him that I’ve seen his murderous work first-hand, but of course I can’t say a word.

“Do it,” he says firmly.

I pause, before shaking my head again.

He stares at me for a moment, before taking a step closer.

I wait for him to say something, but he seems to be studying me.

“Go to hell,” I mouth silently, hoping he can understand.

He smiles.

Suddenly he cracks the handle of his gun against my face, sending me stumbling back as a sharp pain radiates across one side of my head. Dropping down, I blink several times, but the sight in my left eye seems blurred now. When I reach up, I feel a tender spot at the edge of the eye socket, and I realize he must have cracked the bone. Wincing, I’m about to get to my feet when he grabs me from behind and pushes me down. Before I can react, he drives one of the sharp wooden pegs through my left hand, pinning me to the ground. I cry out, but a moment later he does the same thing to my right hand.