Neos Aion: Episode 2

Chapter 5

February 13
Dakota’s first-person narrative account

It was all a blur. It all happened so quickly I am not sure if I can recall what had happened accurately. I heard an excruciatingly loud blast and a blinding flash of light that flooded the compartment, as the metal hull was scraping away and being ripped apart. I soon began to feel very giddy as everything began to enter a violent spin. I felt sick, it was as if my head had suffered a terrible migraine and my heart was about to explode.

But finally a forceful impact had me rendered unconscious of the outdoor world.

Was I dead?

I opened my eyes. It was bright but after a while as my eyes began to focus, I saw a ceiling with lights in front of me. I was lying on something soft - a bed. I turned to my left to view a medical diagnostics display screen; on my right is a robot nurse. I was hospitalised for a long time as a child when I fell victim to a deadly viral infection, one of countless millions of others across the globe under a pandemic crisis; a crisis which turned the world upside down and changed everything. I generally could not recall much before that, so technically it would have been safe to say that I had lived my whole life as this second class of the human race. Even after I had recovered, I was not allowed to leave the room. At first I was very upset and confused but soon I realised why. I looked different from before. My skin was paler and the colour of the pupil in my eyes was as red as blood. I could only see my parents through a computer screen. To my knowledge I was the second child – my older sister had already passed away for some time after falling victim to the illness. I never got to know her.

Loneliness. Back then, the closest thing I had to a companion was the medical robot that would occasionally humour me with its usual greetings and its programmed speeches whenever I tried to ask it silly questions or purposely mess things up to annoy it. It was also programmed to teach me things and make sure I did not lag behind in my developmental years.

Fear. I felt anxious; afraid. Whatever did I feel afraid for, what was I afraid of? When I had turned four, I was sent into this new place built specially for people like me, away from the rest of the world. There, everyone was a stranger to me. I was afraid. My parents could not come along to stay with me because I could have spread the disease to them. However, they appointed me to another foster parent in the special centre who was to adopt me and take care of me, after which I never heard from them again. Perhaps they had decided to give up on me and live on with their lives without me. By then, word was that the disease had already claimed the lives of about one tenth of the world population. The feelings of having someone close being taken away was a pain shared by everyone across the globe. Nonetheless, life had to go on.

And yet, what was this? I felt a warm moist caressing down my cheeks; tears! Why was I crying? I had already resolved to be strong and independent. After some time, I had learnt to adapt to the life at the new place. I thought that at long last, through the struggles, I could make something of myself in this world.

And yet… and yet all that was taken away from me. They took all I had away from me. I remembered what happened on that fateful day four years ago, as clear as day.

Quarantine. Separation. Anxiety. Imprisonment. Running. Guns firing. Loud noises. Explosion. Fear. Blood. Pain. Death.

Everything died.

It wasn't fair at all. I suppose life is but a journey paved with ambiguous checkpoints and predestinations; the only certain destination being death itself. Thinking of it, I had little say about what I was to experience in my life. It all just came suddenly and I had to learn to accept it, deal with it and keep moving on. Life could never a movie that promises the happily-ever-after ending, with all hard work paid off, with all misunderstandings clarified, all apologies uttered and accepted, all acts of kindness appreciated and reciprocated, all sincere feelings returned by the subject of adoration et cetera. The ambiguity of the future coupled with the absence of a promising resolution could only take away the sense of hope. What was there to hope for?

Even during the times when I ever had the priviledge to experience happiness, it was not a perpetual bliss. Sooner or later, something or another always came and challenged to take it away; sometimes succeeding, sometimes not. As much as I would have liked to fantasize my life as such, reality will more often than not be a disappointment. I would neither be the sole director of my life, nor the writer scripting the lines of those I encounter and scribbling the favoured scenarios that are to come. In this world, there are 5 billion others trying to write out their own scripts too, all unknowingly directly or indirectly interconnecting all of us together.

Yet, if life in the first place was going to be so much independent of my hopes, dreams, efforts and will, the very foundations of happiness itself, then what is the purpose of life?

“Dakota! Hang in there Dakota!”

“She’s stable. She’ll live.”

“Can she hear us?”

“Just let her rest for now.”

“I’ll carry her.”



Chapter 6

February 13
Residential area, Phoenix, Arizona
2.40a.m.

Dakota woke up to find herself in a car with her escapee peers, lying against Evan’s shoulders.

“Ah, you’re awake,” said Evan, “Are you feeling better?”

Dakota nodded and smiled weakly at Evan, "Where are we going?"

"We're heading to a friend's place of mine. It's a nearby church. We can trust him."

“Alright, so we’re stopping here for a while,” grunted Patrick, “Anyone up for Mac’s? You guys hungry?”

Patrick’s gesture was met with silence.

“You can still think about food at this hour?” Richard asked incredulously.

“I guess that’s a yes,” Patrick snarled sarcastically, “Keep being a smart-alec and I’ll be serving your dumbshit brain along with the payment to the cashier.”

Richard just sank back in his seat and whimpered indignantly at Patrick’s snide intimidation.

“We’ll have to pass the drive-through” Patrick commented, “We don’t want to end up attracting unwanted attention inside the restaurant.”

“No shit Sherlock…” Evan coughed.

“Yes, good evening, what would you like to order?” the voice greeted at the com panel.

“Six Big Mac meals. Upsized.”

“Okay, that would be a total of 52.2 Bancor sir. Please proceed to the counter ahead to make your payment. Thank you! Have a good weekend!”

“You’re welcome!” chirped Patrick in an exaggerated cheerful tone.

“I think we may need a new car Patrick,” Evan commented, “This car’s beginning to fall apart. I don’t wanna attract anymore attention by breaking up in the middle of the road. It kinda makes our presence conspicuous.”

“Why thank you Evan,” Patrick retorted sardonically, “How astute. That really helps a lot. You know, since you know so much, why the fuck didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Evan just grimaced and chose to remain silent, observing Patrick’s blood-stained arms.

“Oh yeah and your hand’s bloody.” Evan added, “Might wanna clean that off or the lady over there’s gonna think we came from the slaughterhouse.”

“Here you go sir” The person at the service counter chirped hesistantly, cautious about the beat up state of the car as well as Patrick’s blood-stained arm. “Are you okay, sir?”

“Everything’s fine.” Patrick grunted whilst driving off.

“Here you go, kids!” Patrick exclaimed in a cheery tone that mismatched his empty facial expression, as he passed around the food. “Help yourselves and enjoy!”

“There’s a nice car.”

Patrick drove his car ahead slowly and collided against the back of another car in front of him at the red traffic light, startling the rest of the group. The quiet boy sitting next to Patrick shot at him an alarming expression, shocked at Patrick's aggressively provocative maneuvre.

The driver exited from his car, looking enormously irate as he swaggered towards Patrick’s car, “Hey man, just wah th’ fuck d’you think is your problem bitch? You just banged your kinky shit here into my ride dawg!”

Patrick calmly waited at his seat, his face expressionless and his hand carefully reaching for the door handle. Dakota shut her eyes tight and cringed, clutching her fist tightly holding Evan's prisoner garment sleeve. Evan stroked Dakota's head in soothingly and whispered to Patrick, "I hope you know what you're doing."

“Friggin’ ass nugget… I’m gonna woop you ass ma’fucker!”

The driver took out a blade knife and as he was just about to open the door, Patrick slammed the door violently against the man’s ribs, causing him to be disoriented from the intense shock.

Patrick exited from his car and clouted the man across the face using his fist with such a powerful blow that it propelled the man to fling across a metre, rendering him unconscious.

“Look’s like we have a new car.”



Chapter 7

February 13
SOTER, Security Division, Briefing room, Nevada
3.02a.m.

It had been three hours since a slice of hell had broken loose in the heart of the medical research facility. Terrestrial, GAIAN Marshals Jung and Kimberly were called forward to the briefing room to receive a de-briefing and aftermaths orders on how to proceed further to deal with the crisis at hand. Jung rubbed her shoulders as she flinched at the chilling atmosphere that had gripped the entire staff population.

“You called for us, sir.” Kimberly calmly reported to the chief head of security who sat on an armchair that faced opposite him and his colleague. He did not turn.

“Approximately three hours ago, a group of six Beta patients had managed to successfully escape this facility. During their escape, they had caused 32 casualties in total: 24 fatalities, 8 injured. The Beta took off from the facility via a stolen air shuttle transport. They were reported to have crashed into a river near a residential area in Phoenix, Arizona after being shot down by one of our fighter pilots. However, no bodies were recovered in the wreckage scene.”

“Sir,” Jung spoke, “I read the reports. The shuttle craft was reported to have dropped from a height of over 700 metres after being hit by a missile which had practically severed off half of its roof. Even if the impact of the missile blow had not killed them, the impact of the fall would have. Furthermore, it is also probable that they had been blown out of the shuttle craft during their post-impact fall, taking into account that the roof had been obliterated.”

“Right now, we have a national threat on our hands. Although what you say does make sense, I suggest that the best policy is to hope for the best but expect the worst. As far as we are concerned, we had not witnessed any corpses at the scene of the wreckage. Furthermore, it would be prudent to exercise additional caution rather than underestimate the Beta; you seem to overlook the fact that a small group of six Beta escapees had managed to send eight members of our security forces to the hospital whilst sending two dozen others to heaven.”

Jung merely stood in silence as a gesture of reluctant consent.

“It is thus assumed that they are still alive and on the run. It is absolutely imperative that they are to be captured, dead or alive. For now, that is the highest priority. Kimberly, you are hence assigned to lead this case alongside Jung.”

Jung flinched and was about to respond in protest before she was cut short by the chief.

“You have your assignments, get moving.”

***

“For the record,” said Jung curtly, “I didn’t volunteer for this job. I’m not Simon; I know I can never replace him.”

“You don’t have to, Charlie. No one’s asking you to.” Kimberly replied courteously.

“So… any leads?”

“There has been a reported incident of a witness account involving a homicide and grand theft auto nearby a MacDonald’s fast-food restaurant along Central Ridge in Chandler, Arizona. That’s where we’re heading to first.”



Chapter 8

February 13
Church of St. Francis Xavier
4.30a.m.

“You sure about this, Evan?”

“Yes Patrick,” reassured Evan, “I’ve known the priest there for many years. He’s a good friend of mine. He’s a good man. He won’t let us down, I promise you.”

Dakota smiled. As Evan was about to leave the car, Dakota spoke out to her.

“You know, in the olden days in Europe, people used to hide out in these places – churches. It was like their claimed sanctuary… hiding from bad people mostly… people that wanted to put them in jail, to hurt them.”

Evan simply returned Dakota’s smile and left the car without a word towards the chapel. As her footsteps approached towards the building, her feet felt limp and her lips felt dry as they pursed into a thin curve; she felt nervous. She had not met the priest in thirteen years; would he be able to recognise her after all this time? Would he still remember her after all this time?

She knew it would normally be considered rude to intrude into another person’s sleep so late at night. But under the circumstances, she hoped he could understand.

Evan gingerly placed her finger onto the doorbell ring but paused. She was afraid. But then again coming to think of it, she also knew it was sheer stupidity to have come all the way here and not call upon the priest. Evan noticed that her breathing was heavier than usual and that her finger was quivering from the anxiety. She merely closed her eyes and took in a gulp of breath for courage, gritting her teeth before pushing the button. Now all that was left to do at the moment was wait.

“Amy?”

Evan felt a glimmer of hope beating in her heart as she startled upon hearing the enunciation of that once familiar name. She looked up and turned towards the voice. It was the indeed the priest with an expression of curious disbelief etched onto his face.

“It’s been a long time, Amy. I haven’t seen you in quite a while. After I heard what happened to the Redfield facility… I was very worried for you. It’s a miracle that you made it through all this time. I’m very happy to see you here.”

“It’s been a while, father.”

“Do come in.”

The priest had a million questions he thought of asking Amy as his mind raced with mingled concern and curiosity. But as each question flashed into his mind, he quickly realised that it would have been either too sensitive or inappropriate and thus decided to pause and rethink his next sentence. A discomfited silence was shared between the two of them which witnessed the priest opening his mouth only to close it a split second later. Finally after much deliberation, the priest could only offer his sympathy.

“I’m very sorry you had to go through all this. It definitely takes great faith to find the will to live on carrying such a heavy cross. I’ve known you since you were a little girl and I know it must have been very hard on you.”

“There have been many times when I just felt like giving it up. You know… just end it all and just leave forever. I’m somewhat used to being hated and hating myself. I can just hate myself and everybody sometimes.”

“I’m sorry Amy. I’m not sure what I can say to make you feel better. Just know that I care for you as a fellow brother in Christ and so does our very own Lord and saviour; Jesus. No matter what, He is there watching over us and living by our side. Even in times when it does not seem so.”

The pause of awkward silence greeted the room. Evan lowered her head and bit her lips, uncertain about what to say. The priest likewise knew that the lamentations of sorrow and implications of suicidal tendencies were not the reason why Evan had paid him an unexpected visit.

“What brings you here, Amy?”

Amy merely pursed her lips in silence.

“Here…”

The priest offered her a glass of water.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The priest peered patiently at her blinking eyes. Evan took a deep breath to pause for contemplation.

“I was… I was… hoping if you could allow me and my friends to live in your quarters for a time.”

The priest blinked hesitantly, expressing his discomfort and reluctance at the unusual request. However, he subtly held a sense of obligation towards Evan, him knowing that she had gone through much since she was a child and thus longing to help alleviate her burdens. Evan peered nervously at him from the corner of her eye as she had lowered her head. The priest shifted his hands uneasily unsure if he was willing to oblige.

Noticing his uneasiness, Evan quickly added, “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

The priest, however, knew that Evan’s previous sentence was not entirely honest and had only been added in a weak attempt to ease his conscience should he choose to reject her as he was aware that Evan was considerate to understand his difficulties.

“No,” the priest replied, flashing at her a grin of caring reassurance, “It’s alright. I could let your friends stay here for as long as you want.”

***

“How are they settling in?”

“They’re sleeping.”

The priest could make out from her repressed expression on her countenance that she was holding back much information she wished to share with him but was unsure if it would be convenient to.

“You look like you have something you wish to talk about.” The priest noted in a form of encouragement for Amy to speak her mind out.

“How’s Karen?”

“She’s been managing fine. She still lives here after all this time. You’d have thought that a fine young lady like her would’ve found a good husband long ago and left to live in a house of her own by now… I know it’s been a very long time since you last got to meet each other. She still thinks of you often. I’m sure she’d be overjoyed to see you… It’s already twenty past five in the morning; she ought to be up by now. Shall I wake her up to see you?”

“It’s okay.”

“That wasn’t what you actually wanted to talk about was it, Amy?”

Evan pursed her lips again and bowed her head.