The Outcast and the Survivor: Chapter Twelve by Trevor A. A. Evans
The Outcast and the Survivor
Written by Trevor A. A. Evans
Text Copyright © 2016 by Trevor A. A. Evans
Published by Prolific Writing Co
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotation in articles and reviews.
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Preface
Chapter Twelve
“There’s nothing back here,” Brogan calls out from the far side of the room as he searches for a way to reach Helena.
“How can that be?” Kat replies in frustration while scouring the darker edges of the room a little closer to my right.
I remain exactly where I was moments ago, only feet from the lifeless body of the peculiar man who shot himself. My mind drifts in and out, like something is pulling me away from here. I feel so oddly estranged from everything around me, like what is going on is no longer real. For a short while, it becomes more like a mist lulling me into a dream, captivating me until Kat calls out again.
“Kaela!” she shouts, forcing my eyes to jump and meet hers.
Brogan is ahead of me studying the far wall, but he’s not touching it. Seeing him there suddenly reminds me of when I was in the canals beneath Vanguard, of that moment when the guard couldn’t see me though I was standing right in front of him. Maybe a similar veil is present here.
“Press against the walls,” I say.
Brogan is quick to follow my instructions. Only seconds later, he slips forward as his hand and wrist abruptly force their way through the solid rock and disappear from sight.
“The way out is over here…” he trails off, pulling his hand slowly back toward his body and staring at it puzzled.
Kat turns from where she’s searching and runs over to his side. I follow more casually as the two of them stand before the hidden passageway in awe, poking their hands into the rock and then withdrawing them like mesmerized children.
“It’s an illusion,” I say to Brogan as I step by him. “Magic.”
I speak with confidence as I step through the passage and reach the other side, where another corridor is faintly lit by a light at its distant end. Kat and Brogan step through behind me and take the lead as we continue our way forward.
Kat has a jump to her step as she walks, her long strides taking her further and further ahead of us. There’s an unmistakable hopefulness in her movement, one that almost encourages me, though I struggle to feel anything but the gloom that hangs over us. My stomach groans like it’s tied in knots, the dank air and the tight walls enclosing around us as we venture ever deeper underground.
We soon reach the light, a torch hovering over a dark opening with a ladder descending into it. Kat goes down first, followed by Brogan and finally me. A cold on the air grows with each step, so frosty that I start to see my breath even in the dim light flickering far above us. If this is where Helena has been kept, she must be frozen solid.
The ladder below us ends at the center of a cavern, one too dark to give us any idea of its size. What light pours down into it is swallowed by blackness or reflects off of our silhouettes, leaving us little idea of where to go from here. That is until I hear a rattling just ahead.
“Kaela,” a strained voice calls out, so hollow that it hardly seems human.
It cuts straight to my bones, paralyzing me like I have been turned to stone. I cannot even summon my own voice in reply. Kat looks at me like she expects me to say something, but I can’t even feel the air leaving my body. She hesitates briefly and then steps forward to answer for me.
“Helena, we’re here to rescue you,” she says, fear in her voice like she senses what I do.
There is no answer. I stare out into the dark petrified, but nothing comes. Slowly, I manage to raise my trembling hand up to reactivate my visor. To my surprise, there is little response from the device, just a blur of scratchy green lines that completely obscure my vision.
I turn my visor off and look at the others, who stand still as though they are having similar issues. But then another noise pulls me again toward the darkness, a faint echo, like metal being gently scraped across stone. Instead of halting, I cautiously move forward until it stops. I then turn around to look at Brogan and Kat, who are trailing further back, but am immediately grabbed by something from behind.
“You’re a lie!” my attacker screams as she claws at me, my visor and armor protecting me from harm.
Still, she strikes with ferocity and then grips tightly as I unsuccessfully attempt to rip her free and throw her over my shoulder. At least I’m able to catch a brief glimpse of long, curly hair as I lean forward, telling me that it is my sister Helena who is attacking me. But what has happened to her?
“Get off,” Brogan shouts as he pulls her away and tosses her to the ground.
Helena continues yelling as Kat helps me up. I immediately turn toward the center of the room where Brogan is restraining Helena and forcing her to stay down. Kat goes over to hold her more firmly while Brogan ties her wrists with a thin, white wire that clicks as it tightens and pulls her hands together.
“Don’t do this to me again,” Helena starts crying, momentarily giving up her fight.
“We’re here to help you,” Kat says softly but firmly, leaning down and kneeling by her side.
“No, you’re not,” she whimpers. “You never are.”
Brogan and Kat both look up at me like I am supposed to understand what is going on, and to my surprise, I think I do. That mysterious man wasn’t just imprisoning Helena here. He was tormenting her in ways so cruel and personal that she doesn’t believe what’s happening, though I’m left wondering what he was trying to accomplish through it. Whatever it was, he has pushed her beyond the breaking point and taken her hope away. I never could have imagined her like this. It tears me up inside, but maybe there’s a way to convince her that what she is seeing is real.
“Do you remember that time Cassandra put lemon into Mariam’s milk?” I ask softly, placing my hand across her shoulder and gently squeezing to relieve my aching heart.
Silence follows. I stare at the dark hair now covering her face from all her lashing, unsure of just who is underneath it. Is it the sister I always admired and looked up to, or has this forlorn place shattered who she was beyond recognition?
I cry quietly as I think of the hurt she must feel and then consider my own transformation in the months since my exile. There is something strange at work inside of me, dragging me into darkness, and the more I feel it, the more it seems like it’s actually been there for a long time. Like an infection of hopelessness, one that’s only getting worse.
“She didn’t speak to us for a week,” Helena whispers, looking up at me with a smile I have so desperately missed, temporarily pulling me from my sorrowing.
I spring forward and throw my arms around her.
“This is real,” I say through joyful sobs, my emotions so powerful that I start to shake.
She squeezes me back firmly, and we embrace for a moment of pure peace, one I don’t want to let go of. I feel her warmth filling me like a fire in the cold of winter, making me squeeze even tighter. If only this could last forever.
But it can’t. It is a lie. We are encompassed by darkness, which I am reminded of as gunfire starts echoing above us.
“This reunion will have to wait,” Kat says as she pulls us up together and then cuts the bonds from Helena’s wrists.
Brogan is already halfway up the ladder by the time we start climbing. I go first, then Helena, and finally Kat, who helps support her. I move as quickly as I c
The gunfire continues louder and louder the closer we get, but then suddenly ceases. My heart stops, fearful of what the break in action might mean.
“Sounds like we pushed back the first wave,” Brogan replies encouragingly, pulling me up the final steps. “We’re almost through this. Just a little more to go.”
I turn around to watch Helena, who shines in the flicker of light despite the dreariness all around. I don’t understand how she’s transformed so quickly. She seemed so dark and empty just moments ago. Then again, she always radiated hope, even when we were young. It’s what once connected the two of us so closely. Now, it seems like she’s the only one of us who possesses it, making me feel estranged, even ashamed. I was foolish to have trusted the Necromancer, whose twisted influence I now feel pressing upon my soul.
“Are you okay?” I ask, pretending that I’m fine.
She pauses in front of me and stares, her eyes penetrating mine as she sees through the wall I’m trying to place between us. I remember Julianne mentioning