Frigid Vandalism (A Nircean Tale)

Frigid Vandalism
A Nircean Tale
By Joshua Barrow

         Well Sahir, at least you have a jacket, I thought, sarcastically reminding myself of my own negligence. The cold had set in and I believed the “job” would be over quickly, as I didn’t plan on an extended stay in the near frozen ruins of the “Bury Tide” township. However, Murphy’s Law had a habit of catching up to those in my profession.
         “Get in, liquidate a certain cache of “assets” and go home. Sure.” I spoke aloud, kicking chunks of ice as I trudged down the only potential pathway through the frost laden ruins. The sun would be setting and considering the rapidly declining temperature, I didn’t have much choice other than to settle in a derelict home off the path.
         I peered through the falling snow, flakes whipping at my face. That’ll work I guess, I thought as I spotted a house with fewer gaping holes in it than the others. I made my way to the front door and kicked it in. I noticed a small hole in the roof, resulting in a pile of snow on the floor below, but it beat the hell out of the alternative.
         I sat in the far corner of the living room, adjacent to the front door and curled into a ball. Reaching into my jacket, I retrieved a half-empty flask and my combat knife. My pistol remained on my belt. However, I’d accidently dropped the clip and didn’t have a back-up, rendering the weapon useless. I had no food, no blankets and just up the pass I’d walked down, a task force of highly trained soldiers scoured the region for the woman responsible for the untimely demise of their weapons cache.
         Hours passed, the temperature continued to drop and the only thing that I had going for me was that I’d completed the job. That, in of itself, was something to be proud of. I carried out a task that would, in some way, further my ultimate plan to escape Nirce and find a home far away. As it turned out, life as a fugitive space pirate proved to make things…difficult.
         I tried to sleep, but the cold continued to bother me. Isn’t hypothermia supposed to kick in? God I just want to sleep. Suddenly, my wrist beacon kicked on, glowing with a subtle orange-reminding me of my lack of warmth. I jumped to my feet, “Ben? Are you there?” I asked hurriedly, not knowing how long the signal would last.
         I paused, waiting for a response…nothing.
         The beacon continued to glow, so I made sure to relay my coordinates, hoping that someone on the other end would hear.
         Sitting down in my corner, I gazed upward to the hole in the ceiling. The sun had disappeared beyond the winter wasteland and I could now see every snow flake glimmer, the moon shining through each.
         Often, in times of silence, I would occupy myself with an armed robbery or something, but in the ruins-the ridiculously cold ruins-I was forced to sit down, and actually reflect. I thought about my urge to abandon my criminal life-style, how I wanted to just settle down with Ben and have a family and how I’d dug a hole so deep that the only way to achieve the latter goals was to continue my life of crime for a while.
         Then from outside, “Hey! Kick on those lights and check the houses!” I snapped up, my neck nearly breaking, and listened attentively. Just then, a few flood lights kicked on outside of the house. The henchmen had caught up to me. I cursed myself for settling in the house, though I realized that had I not, I would have succumbed to the environment.
         Seriously? This is how I go out?
         A heavy set of foot-steps approached the front door, clunking along the floor of the wooden porch just outside.
         Trying my best to remain quiet and undetected, I sunk into a room in the back of the house and stood with my back against the wall next to the door. I prepared to ambush the first very unlucky soul to enter the room.
         The front door creaked open and a man walked in. Chances were, I was outnumbered ten to one and I was in no position to make contact.
         I can get the first one, maybe hold him hostage? Bargain my way out? No. That’s stupid. They’d be more than happy making a sacrifice to take down the famed Sahir Illitari. Crap.
         The man walked around the living room, but didn’t sound like he was being too thorough. As long as I kept my head down, I was sure he’d ignore the rest of the house.
         “Sahir? I’m closing!” Ben’s annoyingly stupid voice blew through the beacon on my wrist and in the dead silence of that winter night, I could have sworn my ear drums split.
         “Damn it, Ben!” I screamed into the beacon as the henchman from the living room started running. He rushed through the door way and I immediately kicked him in the knee, stunning him. He readied his rifle to his shoulder. I slapped it away and drove my blade into his stomach, his eyes screaming for forgiveness. I didn’t let him suffer.
         I heard a rapid shuffle of government-issue boots blitz into the house, and just before I began to pray to whatever powers-that-be, I heard the roaring engines of my ship, my deus ex machina, zooming over-head. The soldiers directed their attention back toward the front of the house and I ran for the rear window.
         I caught the attention of a soldier and he began to fire indiscriminately into the back of the house. One round lodged itself in my leg before I sent myself flying through the window. I continued to sprint, unsure of what was going on behind me, until Ben piloted the ship ahead of me, touching down momentarily, so that I could dive into the open hatch.
         I collapsed to the floor of the ship and breathed deeply before shouting toward the pilot’s seat. “You’re an idiot!”
         We were on our way, leaving the “Bury Tide” township.
         Ben spoke up, “One less tourist location to visit, eh?”
         I kept to myself, not wanting to have to stab Ben as well.