Amy Cross - Persona

Dropping me onto the sand, he turns and waves at the helicopter, which starts to descend above us, getting closer and closer as its blade whip the air into a frenzy.

“It’s time to get out of here, Asher!” Harold shouts, so I can hear him above the sound of the engines. “You’ll thank me later, I promise. I’m rescuing you from the pit of your own oblivion. I mean, seriously, were you seriously trying to run an entire town? I understand that you needed to divert your mind to some practical project, but I think you went a little too far. What was that place called again? Starfall? Sadfall?”

“Steadfall,” I murmur, struggling to stay conscious as I feel Harold picking me up. Before I can react, I feel myself being loaded onto the helicopter and pushed across the cold metal floor. I reach out, but my hands are too weak to grab hold of anything. “It’s called… Steadfall…”

“This reminds me of our great escape from Talton V,” he tells me. “You don’t remember that yet, but you will. It was one of our finest moments during the war. We were heroes, Asher, but they stole that away from us. They had their drugs and their needles, and they made us forget everything that happened!” He turns toward the helicopter’s two pilots. “Get us out of here!”

“No,” I stammer, trying to roll back out, but I’m shoved further on-board and all I can do is watch helplessly as Harold climbs in to join me. I reach over toward the door, just as he slides it shut. When I try to grab the handle to pull the door back open, Harold shoves me further across the floor.

“You don’t belong on the island, Asher!” he continues. “I understand why you ran away, but it’s time to go back and face those bastards! Phillips, Logan, Montreath and all the others, I’ve tracked them down. One by one we’re going to make them pay for how they treated all of us, all the soldiers who were used in that war and then tossed aside! And when we’re done with them , we’ll move up and deal with the real hypocrites, the people in power! The revolution’s finally coming, Asher, and we’re going to be right at the eye of the storm!””

Again I reach for the door, as the helicopter rises from the ground. I see the tops of the trees far below us, and I quickly realize that we’re about to head back over the island and then toward the mainland. For a moment, everything starts fading to black, but I force myself to sit up just as the helicopter swings out toward the sea and then dips, turning fast so it can speed back across the island.

“I’m going to need to get this checked out,” Harold mutters, wincing as he examines the wound on his shoulder. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re such a good shot, since—”

Turning, I slam my weight against the glass partition that separates us from the two pilots in the front of the helicopter. The glass holds, however, and I simply slump back down, but somehow I find the strength to try again and again, finally letting out a grunt of pain as I fall to the floor for the fourth or fifth time.

“There’s no point fighting this,” Harold continues. “Be smart, Asher. I’m sure you had fun on the island, maybe it was even therapeutic for you in some crazy way, but those days are over now. I couldn’t let you rot there for the rest of your life, that would have been obscene. The people of the world need us to make a stand and change things!”

Forcing myself to sit up, I look around, hoping desperately that I’ll spot some kind of weapon that has been just tossed aside. There’s nothing, of course, but after a moment I see a fire extinguisher tucked under one of the seats. It’s big, it’s heavy, and it’s better than nothing.

“Asher—”

Grabbing the extinguisher, I’m about to pull out the pin when I realize that the main nozzle arm might be more useful. Using all my remaining strength, I twist the nozzle free, and sure enough the broken end is sharp enough to use as a weapon.

“Asher!” Harold says firmly, as if he suddenly senses danger. “You need to grow up and remember who you really are! We’re on the same side here, I came all this way to fetch you! What do you think you’re going to achieve by—”

Letting out an angry cry, I throw myself at him. The helicopter lurches, flashing over the forest, but I manage to land directly on top of Harold and drive the broken metal shard into his belly. He gasps, and I see pure shock in his eyes as I twist the shard and then pull it out.

“She doesn’t have the killer instinct,” I hear a voice whispering in my ear, from my days at the training academy. “She always hesitates.”

“Asher,” Harold gasps, “it’s me! We’re friends, remember? We both hate the same—”

I drive the shard into Harold’s belly again, then again and again, stabbing him as hard as I can. With each thrust, I move a little further up his body until I drive the shard into his chest. He stares back at me, his eyes filled with shock, but when he puts his hands on my arms I immediately realize that he’s too weak to fight back.

“They took our memories,” he whispers. “Without those, we’re not ourselves. I can give you all your memories back, Asher. I can make you… I can… make you… remember who you really are…”

The pilots are shouting from up-front, but I don’t care if they manage to break through and shoot me. All that matters right now is that I make Harold pay, and I slowly start twisting the shard in his chest. No matter what I do, however, he doesn’t scream or beg for mercy, and he doesn’t even try to push me back. With blood running from one side of his mouth, he simply stares at me with an expression of confusion, as if he can’t believe I’m doing this even as I continue to drive the shard into his belly.

“They tossed us aside after the war,” he whispers finally, sounding weaker than before. “We can… Asher, we have to make them pay for…”

Suddenly the helicopter takes a sharp turn, sharp enough to send both of us clattering off the seat and down onto the floor. I lose my grip on the metal shard, which tumbles away, and then I turn to see Harold bleeding profusely and clutching his gut. His blood is sloshing around on the metal floor now as the helicopter tips one way and then the other, and I can tell the pilots are trying to knock me off my feet. Turning, I see that one of them is frantically trying to get the partition open, and then I glance back at Harold and find that he’s staring calmly at me, although blood-loss is making him look increasingly pale.

Struggling to the door, I try to pull the handle, only to find that it’s secured somehow. Filled with panic and determined to get off the helicopter before it’s too late, I pull back and lean against one of the seats, and then I start kicking the window. Just when I’m starting to think I might have to try something else, the glass cracks a little, and then it shatters when I give it one final kick. The helicopter tilts around, and I know I don’t have long left. Crawling through Harold’s blood, I reach the broken window and then start to haul myself out.

“Stop!” Harold calls out.

Looking over my shoulder, I see that he’s reaching out to me.

“Asher, we can fight them!” he stammers, with more and more blood pouring from his belly and chest. “It’s not just us, there are others too!”

I want to grab the metal shard into his gut again, to really finish him off, but he’s clearly going to die before he can get medical attention. Instead, I look out the window one last time and see the tops of the trees flashing past below the helicopter, and then I haul myself through the gap. I know this is probably suicide, but I’d rather die on the island than live on the mainland. I belong here now, away from the rest of the world and away from anyone who wants me to remember my past. As the tree-tops flash beneath us, I drag myself out through the broken window.