~17~

Where the past meets the future

Lorelei stood there in the middle of the road—of what used to be a road. Her eyes felt swollen, the skin on her cheeks tight, her lips dry and cracked; but she was dry now, emptied. There were no more tears to cry. There was only so much mourning she could do for the loss of something she didn’t know—did know once but was now lost down some unknown corridor of her mind that none had walked through since it happened and the entrance to it long since hidden.

She stood and stared at it. Puzzled at it. Concentrated on it. Transfixed by it. It meant nothing to her. Nothing. But she felt that it should. That it should mean something.

The house stood—not grandly, or proudly, or strikingly—but it still stood, and in the midst of a land covered in scattered rubble, that in itself was something. It was an average house—like every other house that had once populated the town—originally two stories, but the second story on one half had collapsed. Birds’ nests and cobwebs littered its failing roof, and beyond its broken window panes was darkness and silence. But it was still there, mostly. It was not burnt, except for a small portion of blackened wood on the right side of it, where the second story had caved in, and that could merely have been from meandering flames of a building or tree nearby. The house itself had not been set fire.

Among the ashes of a long dead town it was, in a word, extraordinary, and had drawn her to it as she had wandered aimlessly through the wreckage, soaking in all that she could around her, wanting to remember but losing a grasp on any hope she may have held inside her. And here she stood, gazing at it in awe, unable to conjure the slightest memory of it. She had stood in front of the house for a long time, not moving, not speaking, breathing softly. Time was lost to her now, but if she had ventured her attention toward the sun, it was nearing the peak of its arch over the earth. There’s no telling how much longer she would have stayed there contemplating the anomaly before her if she had not been shaken from her thoughts by a voice nearby.

She had heard no noise before he had spoken, no movement or footsteps; if he had made any noise at all as he approached her, she must have been too lost in thought to hear it. The fact that she was already shaken and concentrating so hard on the house before her that he was able to sneak up on her would have been enough to startle her, but the sound of his voice, a voice that sounded so old, so new, so familiar, and so alien all at the same time, rocked her to her very core. As she spun towards him and her eyes confirmed what her ears had already told her, she missed a breath, her heart perhaps even skipping a beat, she stood frozen, unblinking, unbreathing. A second later, her body again reminded her to breath and she gasped in a deep breath that made her take a step back from its force.

He had said, “I knew I would find you, but I never thought I would find you here…”

Now he was silent, gazing at her with pale blue eyes, his angelic face unreadable. He stood but a few feet away from her, beyond arms reach, but if she had held out her arm towards him, and he had reached towards her, their fingertips would have touched. His blonde hair was in disarray—it had been neatly parted and combed to the side when she had seen him last in Kinnyta. He was still wearing the same uniform.

“You…” Lorelei breathed. It was all she could manage at the moment.

He swallowed, his face unmoving, but an uncertainty swept across his eyes. Those pale eyes that she had seen in her dreams.

“Who are you?” she said, her voice no louder than a whisper. As she watched him, as she waited for his answer, a panic rose in her chest and slowly began to spread through out her body. In Kinnyta, in that bar, she had fought against all reason and sanity and the friends that tried to instill the two into her, to stay with this man, to talk to him, to listen to him, to plead for answers. After she had left him, she had prayed against all odds that she could have to chance to see him again. But now that he stood before her, what she felt was fear. The impulse to turn and run away was strong and she fought it off savagely while trying to remind herself of the desire she had felt to see him again.

The man paused, eyeing her. “Lori…it’s me,” he said softly. There was apprehension in his eyes, a fear, perhaps, of his own, an uneasiness that mirrored hers, and it was enough, just then, to hold her in place. An undeniable connection. The man inhaled an uneven breath. “You really don’t remember me?” His voice wavered, betraying the emotion his face refused to.

Lorelei couldn’t speak; she merely shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. The invisible cord that bound them together, though very fragile, remained intact.

“I hate the way you’re looking at me,” he said. With those words there was a snap, and the cord began to unravel. That tone in his voice, she could not remember hearing him talk like that before, and yet there was a definite feeling it evoked that seemed somehow familiar to her. The tone of his voice was slippery, almost dangerous and the instinct for her to run away was multiplied by it.

“I’ve never seen you look at me like that before,” he continued. The connection holding her in place was unraveling quickly. Stay, she told herself, stay! But she didn’t think she could much longer. Why was she so frightened? “It’s like you don’t know me.” She was losing control, the terror was too strong. “You really don’t know who I am…do you?”

There was a pathetic anguish in his last few words that tugged at her heart, but it was too late, the terror had taken its hold and she was backing away from him. “It doesn’t really matter who you are,” she said. “Your uniform says all I need to know.” Her feet were moving faster now.

He followed her. “No, wait,” he cried desperately. His eyes, they pulled on her, but she couldn’t stop moving away from him. “If the uniform is all you’re afraid of, I can explain!”

But she turned from him and began to run.

“Please wait!” he called after. “Lilly!”

Lilly. Lorelei skidded to a halt. That name. She had been called it before. It was safe. It was warm. It was a piece of her past—a piece that she wanted back so badly that it made her ache. The fear was still there, but something stronger held her now. She turned again to look at the uniformed man.

The man seemed to sigh in relief with his entire body when she stopped running. He came up close to her again. “Lori, please try to understand.” He shook his head, his stone face finally broken and his brow furrowed. “Things happen that you can’t control. This uniform, it isn’t all I am. I knew you long before I ever put it on.”

“But I don’t know who you are,” Lorelei cried. “All I know is that you’re wearing the uniform of my enemy. All I know is that you followed me here all the way from Kinnyta. How can I trust you? How can I trust anything you say? What do you want from me?”

He paused, tilting his head slightly to one side. “I didn’t follow you.” She frowned in confusion and she opened her mouth to argue, but remained silent as he continued, her bewilderment growing. “I didn’t have to follow you. I knew you would come back here. It calls to you, just like it calls to me. What do I want? …I just had to see you again.” He inhaled a shaky breath, averting his eyes for a moment. “I thought you were dead…” He shook his head quickly and glanced back up to meet her eyes.

She gaped at him, feeling as though his pale eyes were piercing into her, seeing her very soul, seeing what even she was blind to. He had used the same words she had—It calls to me. She licked her lips nervously, feeling anxious and frightened still, but now excited as well. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “You said that you never thought you’d find me here, and now you say you knew I would be here…?”

With that, his face broke into the first smile she had seen on him. Not the first smile she had ever seen on him, no, because she had seen him smile that smile in her dreams, she had seen him smile that smile in another lifetime, in the lifetime that she couldn’t remember. White teeth flashed. It was part magnetic, part unsettling, part mysterious. “No, no,” he chuckled. “I knew you would come back home, to Quensa. I knew I could find you if I came back to this town. What I meant was that when I came back here, looking for you, I never thought I’d find you standing here,” he threw a longing glance towards saddest, most stubborn house in all of Quensa, “in front of my house.”

Lorelei gasped, looking at the house again, then turning her gaze back to the blonde man. “Your…?”

The man glanced at her again. “Mine. You don’t remember it, do you?”

She looked away, sighing, and shook her head.

The man shrugged. “I’m not surprised. You didn’t come here very often.” He paused, sighing heavily. “Growing up, I didn’t spend much time here myself.” He looked at her pointedly. “I think I spent more time at your house.”

Lorelei swallowed, her eyes beginning to well with tears she didn’t think she had anymore. “My house?” she whispered. Her eyes were hypnotized by his and she tried desperately to stare deep into their voids, to see the things from the past that he saw, to remember them. My house.

The man nodded. “Your mom would always let me in. She was amazing. I always wished she was my mother.”

“…Mom?” she breathed. A tear slipped down her cheek. Mom. Mom. Why couldn’t she remember? Why couldn’t she conjure up a picture of the woman this man spoke so reverently of?

Mims.

The man gave a sad smile. “Of course, eventually I had to stop coming over. You know, because Lex…” but his words trailed off there and a small panic flickered across his eyes.

Lorelei’s mouth dropped agape. “Lex,” she repeated. Lex. A surge of emotion raced through her. A picture flashed in her mind. A gun—the very one that was now strapped to her right thigh—exchanging hands, from bigger, stronger hands to her smaller, shaking ones. Lex. Lex Ro. Lilly Ro.

“Because Lex what?” she suddenly said, her voice urgent, pleading. “Why did you stop coming over, because Lex what?”

The man turned away from her, hanging his head and running his hand over his forehead. “Bloody Gen, Ro,” he moaned. “You really don’t remember anything, do you?” He turned to face her again and she saw pure anguish on his face. “Bloody fucking…” He shook his head. “It hurts so bad to look at you and see that you feel nothing for me—that you don’t even know who I am! I never thought it would hurt so…” His words wrenched themselves into oblivion.

The pain he spoke of, she could see it on his face, she could hear it in his voice, and she could feel it within herself. I want to feel something for you. I want to remember you. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” She sighed. “Tell me your name?”

He let out a heavy breath, slapping his hand over his chest, as if the words she had flung at him were bullets piercing his skin.

“Please,” she said, more tears springing from her eyes. “Please, just give me a name. Help me remember. I want to remember you.”

He swallowed, opened his mouth to answer, closed it again, paused. “…Brandt.”

“Brandt,” she echoed. She closed her eyes and brought the image of him from her dream into her mind, repeating his name silently over and over. But there was no spark, not like the one she had felt when he had spoken the name “Lex”. Remember! she silently screamed to herself. Remember him! She wanted to feel for him as intensely as he portrayed for her. She wanted it so badly, but didn’t feel it. She just didn’t.

She looked at him. “Brandt,” she repeated, trying to burn the name into her mind. “Brandt…” She paused. “Were we…” She shook her head, unsure of how to ask what she had to ask. “What were we…you and I?” She opened her mouth to articulate the question in a different way, but then just shut her mouth, watching him, waiting for him to tell her something, anything.

He gaped at her for a moment. “We…” But then he just stood with his mouth open. He looked on the verge of tears himself. “…I love you, Lori Ro.”

Her mouth hung open, and she whimpered quietly, her eyes wide.

The man looked away quickly, smacking himself in the forehead with the heel of his hand.

“Brandt, I…”

“Forget I said that,” he snapped. He turned towards her again, but didn’t look right at her. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

She continued to watch him questioningly. “I’m sorry. Brandt, I didn’t know—”

“I said forget it!” Brandt yelled. Lorelei blinked and took an involuntary step back from him. “Just forget that I ever said that!”

She nodded slowly. “…Brandt?”

He met her eyes. They seemed colder now. More vacant than before. They almost seemed…she cocked her head slightly to the side, gazing into his eyes…they almost seemed more familiar now.

“You said before,” she ventured timidly, “that you stopped coming to my house because of Lex. What did Lex do? Why did you stop coming over?” She had to ask it, it was killing her, the memory that his name evoked was trying to materialize, and more than anything else at that moment, she wanted to remember Lex. Deep down, however, she also knew that she was testing Brandt by asking it, provoking him. The blonde man before her seemed more familiar to her in his fierceness than he did in his sorrow. It was a dangerous road to take, but she was a desperate woman.

Brandt licked his lips. “Why? What did Lex do to make me unwelcome in your house? He hated me, that’s what! Your brother hated me and he would’ve done anything to keep me away from you! He tried to keep us apart, Ro!”

Lorelei let out a small cry, tears spilling over her cheeks. Her knees suddenly buckled and she found herself hunched over her curled legs, balanced on the balls of her feet and the palms of her hands in the dirt. She lowered herself onto her knees and covered her face with her hands, smearing tears and dirt across her features.

She had unleashed the anger she had hoped for, but did not even notice.

Lex. Her brother. Tall. Funny. Dark hair—nothing like hers. It was his gun. He had given it to her on the night that he had left. Alexei Roanaque. Lex. Ro. He was the one who…

“He was the one who called me Lilly,” she said.

Brandt eyed her curiously, then nodded in understanding. “His friends all called him ‘Ro’,” he said, his voice flat and impassive. Lorelei thought, Not you, you call me Ro. She couldn’t tell for sure if it was a fact that she remembered about him, or merely something she had noticed during their current conversation. “When you were old enough,” Brandt went on, “Lex would let you tag along sometimes when he would go with his friends. They started calling you ‘Li’l Ro’. And he started calling you—”

“Lilly,” she finished.

Brandt watched her, but she was no longer looking at him. He took a few steps towards her. “Do you remember Lex?” he asked.

She suddenly looked up at him, her eyes so bright. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her eyes looking so bright—not at him, at least. “Yes!” she cried out. “Yes, I remember Lex! I remember when he left! I remember when he—” gave me his gun, “when he left Quensa.”

Brandt sighed, bending down to her level. “…But you don’t remember me?”

The light in her eyes died then and she looked up at him guiltily. He reached towards her, his palm facing up and gently took her left hand in his right one. She felt the strange electric sensation that she felt upon any contact with someone else’s flesh. She was beginning to get used to it, but this time, with this man’s hand, it made her spine tingle. Somehow, it seemed more intense this time.

Brandt then tilted his wrist, just rotating it slightly. Lorelei watched his hand curiously, until it came into view, and then she gasped, fully understanding now what he was showing her. There, on the back of his right hand, in the flesh between his thumb and his index finger, was a thin pale circle.

“There is a bond between us,” Brandt spoke softly, “that nothing and no one can ever break. We’re soul mates, you and I.” He paused, and she glanced up to meet his gaze. His pale eyes looked so clear, so deep, she felt like she could step inside them. “I have the gift, Ro. I have it, too. We were different from everyone else. They didn’t understand. Some of them feared us. It was just us, it was us against the world. Do you remember at all?”

Lorelei swallowed, searching for the answers in his eyes, not finding them. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

“You were ten,” Brandt said, his voice balanced just on the edge of exasperation. She looked at him quizzically, uncomprehending. “It was late afternoon. You were in the woods, alone. Walking home, I think. Maybe you had been following Lex and he had told you to go on home, I don’t remember. Anyway, there were two kids, both older than you by a few years. It was Buddy Hargrove and Kit Lauer, those little caise-fuckers—do you remember them?” She shook her head quickly. “They saw you coming. They’d heard stories about you, about what you could do, and they decided to take it upon themselves to test it.” He frowned in disgust. “They each hid at different places by the side of the path, a few yards from each other. When you came into view, one of them threw a rock at you.” He broke their eye contact by wincing and turning his head as if he could actually feel the rock hitting him.

And suddenly, as Brandt winced, Lorelei winced herself, closing her eyes. The rock had come from ahead of her on the path, sailing towards her with such speed that she couldn’t grasp at first what was happening. A whistling sound, a fast, dark object, then paralyzing pain exploding in her right shoulder.

“You started to run down the path,” he continued, “but they threw another rock at you.”

Stunned at first. Confused. Hurting badly. She had panicked and started to run, when it happened again, another object had hurdled towards her from ahead of her. Smack! Pain had exploded on her right thigh.

“You turned to run the other way,” Brandt told her, “when the other fucker started throwing rocks at you from the other direction. They ended up trapping you between them, making you run back and forth down the path. They had gotten you in the face, in the head, broke your knee—I remember that because the bones had healed so quickly that they healed in the wrong way and later, the healer had to break your knee again to make it heal right.”

Lorelei shuddered. She didn’t remember the one that had hit her knee, but she did remember one that had struck the back of her head. Stars had burst before her eyes, her vision had split so that everything was double, then it had gone black for a moment. She had felt like she was staggering, moving in slow motion. And then her vision had suddenly cleared, and although her head still throbbed, she had felt centered again and tried again to run.

“Finally, you broke away from them, running off the path through the woods,” Brandt said. “They chased you. You had almost made it out of the woods when they caught up to you.” He paused a moment, looking pained. “I don’t know exactly what they did to you, you wouldn’t say much about it afterwards. All I know is that you started screaming. I heard you screaming and I came running. I found them pinning you to the ground, I’d never heard…” he choked a little on his words, and inhaled a deep breath before continuing, “I’d never heard you scream like that, and I just lost it. I just started hitting them. I slammed Kit into a tree. That little fuck Buddy hit me in the face with a rock—got me pretty good, too, because I still had a huge black eye when we got back to your house…”

She was curled up in a ball on the ground, hugging her knees and sobbing. She had watched him. He was bigger than she was by quite a bit, a giant to her. He had suddenly appeared out of the blue and flung Kit and Buddy back with a fury that made her tremble, releasing on them a hail of fists and elbows and knees and feet and teeth. She remembered being frightened of him, of his pure rage.

“You carried me,” Lorelei said. Brandt’s eyes suddenly flared in awe. “Kit had run away,” she went on. “Buddy was lying on the ground crying. You walked over to me and picked me up off the ground.” As he had come closer, she had begun to cry harder, flinching away from him at first. But then he knelt beside her and put his hand on her head and she swallowed down her fear, seeing that the fury had faded from his eyes, and let him take her into his arms. “I was okay, all the cuts and bruises had healed up by then. My knee didn’t bend quite right, but I could walk on it. But you carried me all the way back to my house.”

Brandt watched her for a moment, breathless. “That’s right. You remember?”

Her mouth spread into a small smile, her bright green eyes glinting with hope, with nostalgia…with desire? Maybe? The same desire that he felt for her? He had never seen a more beautiful smile in all his life. He squeezed her hand gently, then brought his left hand up to her face. First, he merely grazed her cheek with the fingertips of his index and middle fingers. She inhaled sharply, her eyes growing wide. Then he pressed his palm against the side of her face, and although, at first, she shied away, she then sighed and leaned into his hand.

Lorelei felt a fluttery nervousness in her stomach. As she looked into Brandt’s eyes, felt the touch of his hand on her face, a million emotions swam around in her mind and she tried to pluck out the one that she felt for him, but couldn’t. She wanted him, she feared him, she loved him, she loathed him, she trusted him, she doubted him. None seemed quite right. She watched him lick his lips, his hand warm on her face, his eyes absorbing her. He leaned ever-so-slightly towards her.

Then he froze. His eyes, though still on her, suddenly went blank.

“…Brandt?” she whispered.

He shook his head sharply, shushing her, and slid his hand from her cheek to covering her mouth, thoroughly perplexing her. He turned his head in both directions, then pulled away from her and got to his feet, looking down the road behind him over his left shoulder. She watched him anxiously, climbing to her feet, herself. As she stood up, he glanced at her.

“Stay here,” he said in a low voice. Then he turned and left her, making his way down the road. As he did, he reached his right hand across his torso and under his left arm, yanking out a weapon he had strapped there. When his arm fell back down by his side, Lorelei could plainly see the weapon that he held in his hand, and the fluttery feeling in her stomach turn stone cold. How had she not seen it? How had she not noticed it before?

There was an expansive crumbling stone building that Brandt was nearing and it stood at the corner of intersecting roads. He was slowing his pace and Lorelei quietly hurried after him. He didn’t look back at her again. He was busy concentrating on the movement he was hearing from the other side of the building. She heard it now too: footsteps. He stopped, right before the corner, holding his weapon in both hands close to his chest.

Then he ran out into the middle of the road, brandishing his weapon out in front of him, and quickly locked onto his target. “Don’t move!”

Lorelei rushed out behind him, heart racing, and as she rounded the corner of the building, she skidded to a halt when she saw the man trapped in the sight of Brandt’s gun. “No!” she cried out. “Don’t shoot!”

Nathan stood in the middle of the road, his hands raised helplessly in the air, his chest heaving rapidly, all the color drained from his face and his eyes, stricken with terror, fixed on the big, blonde man holding him at gunpoint. Even when Lorelei entered the scene behind him, Nathan didn’t acknowledge her presence. For the moment, he could only focus on the man before him. The gun, yes, the gun set off a reflexive fear in his heart that froze him in place, but the man, the mere sight of him struck a terror in him so great that he could barely keep his footing.

Brandt squinted at Nathan over the top of his gun. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Nathan swallowed and remained silent. Right then he couldn’t have spoken even if he’d had an answer to the question.

“Brandt, put the gun down,” Lorelei said. Her voice finally pulled Nathan’s attention away from the blonde man, and as their eyes met briefly she saw was naked fear. “He’s with me. Don’t shoot.”

Nathan’s eyes snapped back to the blonde man, going up and down between his face and the gun in his hands. Then Nathan opened his mouth, and he said slowly in a low voice, “Lori, run.”

Lorelei let out a loud sigh in exasperation and frustration. “Nathan, it’s okay.” She lifted her hand towards him. “It’s alright. Brandt, put the gun down!”

The blonde man didn’t take his eyes off his target, nor did he make any move to lower his weapon. Instead, his mouth seemed to form a tiny smirk.

Nathan gritted his teeth. “Lori,” he said again, more forceful this time, “run.”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Lorelei moved to take a step towards Brandt.

“Lori, run!” Nathan suddenly exploded. “Get out of here! That man is General Wylde! Forget about me and save yourself!”

Lorelei froze, her jaw dropping, and she turned her head towards the blonde man in uniform. The man’s mouth spread into an easy grin.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “He can’t be…”

The blonde man transferred his gun to his left hand, glaring Nathan a warning before he turned his attention to Lorelei. “Did I forget to mention that part?” he murmured slyly. He shook his head. “My apologies. General Brandt Wylde,” he lifted his right hand to his forehead in a salute, “at your service.”

Lorelei gaped at him, her mind reeling. He couldn’t be Madden’s general, he just couldn’t! Was it all a lie? Everything he said? But the story of the boys throwing rocks at her, how Brandt had saved her—it had to be true because she remembered it! Now she just didn’t know what to believe.

Brandt caught movement out of the corner of his eye and he whipped his head back toward Nathan, and angled his gun to center the aim back on Nathan, who had taken a step to the right. “I’ll blow you straight to hell, son,” Wylde said.

Nathan flashed a bitter smirk. “I’ve got news for you,” he retorted, his voice and his smart comments finally returning to him, “I’m already there.”

“I know you,” Wylde said. “I’ve seen you before. Who are you?”

Nathan glared at him, the fear in his eyes fading to anger. “I’m your worst nightmare,” he spat. Wylde snickered. “You’ve taken far too much from me already,” Nathan went on, Wylde’s cocky grin fueling his rage. “You were there when Natalie died. You took Natty, and now you’re trying to take Lori, but it’s not going to happen, not this time! I thought that Madden was the one I hated, but I was wrong, it was you. And I won’t rest until you pay.”

Wylde burst into laughter, shaking his head. “That’s a mighty empty threat,” he chuckled, his eyes narrowing on his target dangerously, “seeing as how I’m not the one with a gun pointed at my head.”

“Guess again,” Lorelei said. Both men heard a click as she cocked back the safety on her gun.

Nathan groaned loudly, shaking his head. “What are you doing!? Didn’t I tell you to forget about me and save yourself? What part of that don’t you understand?”

“Shut up,” she said tersely. She didn’t even glance at Nathan, her focus was concentrated down the nose of her gun to right between General Brandt Wylde’s eyes. Wylde made no reaction whatsoever, except to flick his eyes in her direction at the sound of her gun being cocked. “I swear to you, Brandt,” she warned, her voice dangerously low, “I swear to you on my mother’s name, if you hurt him, I’ll—”

“What?” Wylde interjected, his eyes snapping to meet hers. “You’ll what? Shoot me?” He paused and flashed her a disquieting grin. “Again?” He raised his right hand to the collar of his shirt and pulled the cloth down to reveal a circle of scarred flesh on his chest—bullet-sized.

It was like fireworks had set off in her head. “You!”

She could see it now, the town that night as it burned. Fire everywhere, flames engulfing everything around her, smoke blanketing the air. She had stood in the road—not this road, but one similar and very close—staring down her arm and the gun in her hand at the same man she held her gun on now. He had been wearing the same uniform, too; it was the first time she had ever seen him in it. His face had glowed with orange light, his eyes in deep, moving shadows. His arm had been stretched out towards her, as well, a matching gun in his hand—the one now trained on Nathan—pointing back at her. And then two explosions, almost simultaneously.

“You burned our home down!” Lorelei cried.

Wylde shrugged. “You shot me. Let’s say we’re even.”

“You killed me!” she shrieked.

Wylde’s eyes darkened then. “I certainly tried!” He whipped his gun in her direction.

Nathan dove towards Wylde the second he was out of the gun’s range. Wylde spun back towards him, but just then a shot went off. Wylde howled in pain, blood gushing from his hand, and his gun went skidding across the dirt away from him.

Dannon and Geats were crouched behind a pile of rubble, watching the scene between their superior, General Wylde, the mysterious woman thought to be Elle Roanaque, and the man Dannon had come to think of as his great rival, Nathan Ryder, unfold. When Wylde had picked the spot for them to hide, he had purposely positioned them quite a distance away from where Wylde went to meet Roanaque, but now, since Wylde had come back down the road, looking to take out Nathan Ryder, the three were now merely yards away from the soldiers who watched.

If only Wylde had not come after Ryder, Dannon wished bitterly. Dannon had seen Ryder coming, and was tracking the rebel’s movements carefully. He was waiting for the right time, waiting until Ryder had gone past where Dannon was crouched so that he could have sprung up behind him in a surprise attack. Sure, Wylde’s attack was just as much a surprise on Ryder, when Wylde whipped around the corner and pulled out his gun. But still, Dannon had hoped for some action, for a chance to prove his worthiness to Wylde.

For now, all Dannon and Geats could do was watch, fearful of interfering and upsetting Wylde’s plans. They were told not to show their faces unless called upon by Wylde. Wylde was hoping to avoid hand-to-hand combat with the immortal legend Roanaque, and if it came to that, he had warned his subordinates, they would not make it out alive. Wylde had wanted to manipulate Roanaque into coming with him quietly, since, apparently, she had no idea who he was. Now, however, it was looking more and more like the plan would fail. Should they abandon their post yet and assist their commander, or could Wylde still manage to get the situation under control? It was not a decision made lightly, for what they feared most was not a nasty death dealt from Roanaque’s hand, but the fury of Madden’s merciless general.

The decision was made when the first shot went off. Wylde cried out in pain as blood and his gun flew from his hand, the gun sliding over the ground towards where Dannon and Geats waited. Ryder, who had been running towards Wylde, suddenly jerked in the opposite direction—in the direction the gun had slid—and Wylde lunged toward Ryder. More explosions echoed over the dead town and blood spilled from Wylde as he landed on Ryder’s back, both men crashing to the ground.

As the shots were being fired, Geats climbed up the pile of rubble they were crouched behind and vaulted over it, racing towards Wylde’s lost gun.

Dannon had jumped to his feet as well, moving to assist his general, when a thin, wiry, strong arm whipped around his neck and dragged him back to the ground. As Dannon struggled against his unseen opponent clinging to his back, the arm squeezed tighter around his throat and jagged nails dug sharply into his flesh: four nails piercing the back of his neck, and a fifth one below his jaw. Then, another hand brandishing a dagger and the head of his assailant drifted into view, showering a mass of brilliant red spikes above Dannon’s face; the hand coming from Dannon’s left and the boy’s head from above. Dannon reached up towards the knife, trying to wrestle the knife away from the boy. The boy’s arm was squeezing even tighter around his neck now and Dannon began to feel dizzy. The knife wavered in the struggle, swinging back and forth over Dannon’s body. Then, suddenly, the tension in the boy’s fist which grasped the knife eased, but instead of being released to Dannon, to Dannon’s horror, he watched the knife slip from both of their hands. It plummeted straight down, its blade burying itself into Dannon’s chest.

Dannon would never prove himself a worthy soldier. Ryder had won without even knowing it.

Nathan watched as the gun skidded across the dirt right past his feet, and without thinking, he abandoned his original target, which had been Wylde, and turned to chase after the weapon.

Lorelei, gun still locked on Wylde, saw him dive towards Nathan and squeezed her finger over the trigger again and again and again. She fired two shots in each of his knees, then emptied the remaining round into his chest. He was still moving, blood now spilling down from both legs, his torso, and his left hand, but it seemed mostly just momentum that was pulling him forward. His eyes had glazed over. Wylde’s body collapsed into Nathan, toppling both men to the ground and burying Nathan under the general.

Lorelei was reaching for more bullets to reload her gun when she saw a new soldier enter the fray. The uniformed youth had climbed up over a pile of rubble, merely feet away from where Wylde’s gun had landed. As Geats neared the gun, he dove to the ground to collect it, but just as he reached out for it, to his dismay, the gun slid away from him as if someone had kicked it.

“Lori, run!” Nathan yelled, and to his relief, she actually did as he instructed. She turned and ran for cover, refusing to abandon her comrade, but hoping for the chance to reload her weapon.

Geats crawled frantically after the weapon, finally catching up to where it landed and picking it up from the ground. He whipped around and shot at the first movement his eye caught, which happened to be Lorelei running towards the remains of a burnt house. He fired once, missed. She ducked her head at the sound of the first shot, but didn’t miss a step. When he fired a second time though, the woman stumbled, rocked on her feet a moment, then fell forward to the ground.

“Lori!” Nathan hollered. When he saw her fall to the ground, all logic and tact fled his mind, and he acted on pure reflex. She had fallen. He needed to save her. Not a doubt or question in his mind. He pushed Wylde, who still lay unconscious and bleeding, off of him and rolled to his feet. He moved to run after Lorelei, but the young soldier turned the gun on him. Nathan paused a second, staring at the gun, then dodged to the left. Geats fired and clipped Nathan’s right arm. Nathan cried out, slapping his other hand over the wound. He scrambled towards the pile of rubble the young soldier had come from, and just then, Garret climbed over the top. The boy was on all fours, perched on top of the rubble, and without warning, leaped down, racing gracefully towards the armed soldier, low to the ground. The boy tackled the soldier and grabbed the gun, the soldier wrestled him fiercely.

Nathan looked on for just a moment, then stood up and rushed to where Lorelei had fallen. She was on her hands and knees when he reached her. Blood covered her back.

“Lori!” Nathan cried, kneeling on the ground beside her. “Tell me you’re okay.”

Lorelei shook her head, put a hand on Nathan’s leg and hoisted herself to her feet. Nathan grabbed her arm gently, standing up with her. “I’m fine,” she sighed.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’ll stop,” she said. “I’m fine, really.”

Nathan nodded slowly. “Then let’s get out of here.”

She nodded, the pain stitched on her face worrying him, but also convincing him all the more that he needed to get her away from this mess. He took her hand in his, grasping it firmly and started pulling her away.

She suddenly balked. Nathan looked back at her to find that she was looking back at Garret, who continued to wrestle the young soldier for the gun.

“I can’t leave him,” she said. She pried her hand from Nathan’s grip and ran toward the boy. Nathan ran after her.

Garret saw Lorelei approaching out of the corner of his eye and turned his head toward her. “Go, Lady! Now!”
“But Garret—”

“You heard the kid,” Nathan said, grabbing her hand again. “Let’s go!”
“I’ll find you!” Garret said. “I’ll find you later, but go! Now! Before Wylde wakes up!”

Nathan yanked on Lorelei’s arm. She stumbled backwards, still facing the boy, but finally submitted, turned, and followed Nathan. They hurried down streets, moving north through the town, towards the woods lying on the opposite side of town than where they entered. There were dozens of paths cutting through the trees. Nathan led her down one that wove north and when it crossed another path, leading east, Lorelei tugged on his arm.

“This way. Follow me.”

Wylde’s eyes fluttered open. His body screamed with pain, and as he sucked in air, his breaths were ragged and shallow, making him choke and sputter. His chest was ablaze with pain. Air! He needed air!

He heard scuffling to his left. He slowly turned his head. Red. A flash of red, moving and writhing. He squinted, trying to make sense of the shapes he was seeing. There was a man in a uniform on the ground and wrestling with him was a wiry man in red. A ‘Sent.

With some effort, Wylde rolled himself onto his hands and knees and started crawling toward the scuffle.

Garret saw the movement from the corner of his eye and immediately let his grasp go and rolled off of Geats. He slid behind the young soldier, grabbed his arms from behind, pointed the gun towards Wylde’s pathetic form and squeezed the trigger. A bullet shot into Wylde’s right shoulder, sending the general back to the ground. Geats’ jaw dropped in horror, and Garret slunk away.

Geats crawled to where the general lay, gasping for air.

“Sir? Sir?”

Wylde coughed violently. His eyes rolled around in his head a few times before landing on Geats.

“Sir? What can I do?” Geats asked desperately. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need…” Wylde choked on his words, paused, then continued, “I need you to get me to New Ceotu.”

Geats frowned worriedly down at his superior. “But Sir, what about Roanaque?”

“I’m not finished with her,” Wylde said. “But it’s time Madden knew. It’s time we strike up our hunt for her again.”

“Down here,” Lorelei said over the roaring water. The river was wide here, the waters fast, and loud.

Lorelei scaled down the side of the river bank, Nathan following close behind her. There was a fat tree trunk which rose up from the ground and arched down and into the water. Thick roots anchored it to the river bank and wove in and out of the dirt, carving into the bank a small alcove.

“Here,” she said, ducking under the tree trunk’s cover. “We should be safe here, for now.”

Nathan followed her, kneeling down beside her in the damp earth. He sat close to her, their arms touching. He turned and looked at her, but she was staring past him, at the river as it sped by. Her eyes welled with tears.

“Lori,” he whispered. To his surprise, she burst into sobs, throwing herself at him. Feeling unsure of himself, he put his arms around her, and when he did, she pressed her face into his shoulder. He hugged her shaking body close to him.

“It’ll never stop, will it?” she sobbed.

Nathan frowned, feeling inadequate to answer her. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay. We’ll find a way. There must be somewhere we can go. I’ll help you. I won’t rest until you’re safe.”

“But I won’t ever be safe. Not until he’s gone.”

“Wylde?” he asked gently.

“…Yes,” Lorelei said. “Wylde. And Madden.”

Nathan swallowed, hugging her tighter.

“It’ll never stop until Madden is gone,” she said. “Unless I find a way to get rid of Madden once and for all, I will never be free.”

He sighed and leaned his head forward, resting his forehead against the top of her head. “Whatever you do, wherever you go, I’ll follow you. I’ll do whatever I can to help you. My life is yours.”

They were quiet then, sitting wrapped in each other’s arms, the sound of the rapids surrounding them. With Lorelei’s past unveiled, she now had to face the future, and destiny or not, she had no choice of where her future would take her: her future was to meet Madden and her fate was entwined with his.

A/N: This is the end of Part I. To find out what fate awaits our heroes, please enter Part II – ReGeneration: Of the Ruins. Much will be revealed and still more may remain a mystery, but the one thing that is certain is our heroes will continue to more towards their destiny, whatever that destiny may be.

Please review!!