Auria

Chapter 21 - Where Is Everyone?

”Where are they?” asked Auria.

Gen looked up and down the hall, then returned and sat down.  Auria followed, standing beside him with crossed arms.

“Don't tell me you're not going to look for them.”
“I'm not.” said Gen.  “They know where we are.  Little Bob should find that idiot and they'll be back before we even miss them.”
“What if someone else finds us first?” said Loof.

Sot hopped into the next room where Bob had prepared food earlier.  The lights barely illuminated, then darkened.

“Bring back another plate if you don't mind.” yelled Gen.
“You truly are sick, aren't you.” said Auria.
“No.” said Gen, staring to the door behind Auria.  “I'm hungry.”

Sot remained perfectly still waiting for eyes to adjust.  The room shown yellow with glinted corners reflecting in blue.  There stood a silver cabinet on one end, large enough for Sot to walk inside.  He lifted the door latch, feeling cold air spill from its hinges, along with a curious odor.  Piles of dust littered melted packages, dust poured across the floor and dirty ice-chunks grew from dark corners.

“Where did he get the food?” he whispered.

He continued searching, finding trays and stacks of platters and cookware, rows of machinery and silver basins filled with melted boxes.  Something about the room told him it was very ancient, so ancient that mold and mildew refused to grow.  A rusty set of utensils turned to dust as he reached for them, then a pot fell and slammed into a thousand, tiny bits of layered rust.

“He couldn't have cooked food here.” said Sot.  “And, I saw him come out of this room.”

Behind Sot, a cabinet light flickered.  He turned to see an outline of what appeared to be Bob's shadow along the wall.

“I know you're here.” said Sot.  “What must we do?”
“Surrender.” Bob gruffed.

In the next room, Auria returned, eyes down with both arms above her head.  Sad eyes gleamed from beneath cuffed hands laying atop red hair, attached via a silver ring around the neck.  A muffled sound erupted behind Auria, a blast of air from a super-heated energy-surge.  Gen stood, only to fall face-first when three space-suits rounded the corner, weapons drawn and pointed.  He'd attempted to shout, but stopped mid-sentence, shaking uncontrollably.

“Why does... this... always... happen?” grunted chattering teeth.
“Because, you are pathetic.” said one of the suits, speaking in Gen's own, muffled voice.

Auria turned to see a faint image of Gen standing inside the gray space-suit.  In that instant she fell as well, face-planting near Gen.  Both shook uncontrollably, kicking and sprawling though unable to touch.

Almost unconscious, Gen noticed a ring of floating, bright specks.  To him, they weren't exactly stars, but countless butterflies from memories of long ago.  He remembered a youth when he'd suffered self-inflicted, electric shocks and many near-death experiences.  Gen knew the power of electricity, shocking himself often before finally learning the sacred 'gift of death'.  Patterns of lightly-painted butterflies attempted to touch the fading facade resting above blinking eyes.  He felt a burning desire to fight - to kill - to use the gift to solve this new mystery.  Several butterflies began to explode, filling the empty spaces in his mind with golden glitter and a new sensation.

Worst of all, he saw himself standing and moving in slow motion. Gen saw his own face running slowly toward the attackers, breaking arms and legs, kicking and punching in a fit of passion.  He found himself fully alert suddenly and waiting for the chance to taste the gift of death, to show the enemy his true feelings.

He leaned forward, reaching out to touch the last unexploded butterfly.  One of the intruders pointed a weapon, firing another plasma bolt directly at Gen's head.  The bolt touched and absorbed into a locked-open eyeball, sending a new surge of flapping butterflies to assault his psyche.  His right fist clinched shut, turning the glowing insects into inter-connecting spheres of energy, each one helping to empower an ancient anger, a returning angst from his youth.

He pushed forward.  Three weapons each fired round after round of electrified plasma at a slow-moving Gen.  He flinched less and less in each hit, slowly drawing closer to the prize on bent knees and an arching back.  Finally, in a screaming fit of internal rage, Gen punched the lead gunman, sending a flowing jolt of electricity from that target into the other men.  The first man fell, leaving the second and third, gray-suited soldiers standing helpless in non-functional space-suits.  Smoke rolled from helmets and lifeless weapons.  One man spoke, leading Gen to realize who stood before him.

“There's a reason we wore suits.” said the attacker using Gen's own voice.

The assailant picked a hanging sphere from his belted midsection, tapped a button and tossed it against the ceiling.  The round ball exploded, sending a golden shower of smoke shooting across the room, filling faces and dulling sight.  In the smoke, Gen still felt the rage reaching out to make his previous day-dream real.  He grabbed the man's arm, though puffy smoke now entered his sinuses and completely tore through every sense with previously unknown feelings, a new-born wicked sensation.

He coughed, taking one hand to cover his mouth and another to pull the man's arm.  He coughed again and again, spilling the contents of deluging sinuses into an open hand.  Sight blurring, he managed with his last movement to wrench the man's suit-arm from his protective armor.  In a teary-eyed moment of clarity, Gen glanced a large, brown flash assail the two attackers, just before he lost control.

“Gen!” said Sot.  “Get up.”

A huge, muscular, taller Sot smashed the two gunmen's heads together, breaking helmets and dulling minds.  While picking up and holding the two atop stout shoulders, he grabbed Auria's arm with a fingered foot and drug her too into the next room.  Dropping both men, the foot threw Auria, landing her face-down across a table, allowing a snot-soaked head to hang over the side.  One pounce later and Sot too succumbed to plasma-fire as more suited gunmen had already secured the scene.