Occulturation #19: You Left Me

Dylishan hour of the Ghost Quintuple (4th hour of the 4th 5-hour period)

Ghost-Incorporeal-Restcha (4th day, 4th week, 3rd month)

“I’m Millie.” The pale little girl in a white-blue hospital gown without shoes says, “What’s your name?” The creature that looks like the cross between a spider and a tree, and is covered in skin and has bony limbs lowers the claw-like gnarled limbs of twisted elbows from its face and turns towards Millie. Its face does not look sad. It still stares dead, mouth open in a silent scream. “Your name… Millie?” It asks.

“Yes, that’s right. My name is Millie.” Millie says, “Do you know your name?” The skin-spider-tree creature shutters, causing its limbs to rattle against each other. Millie doesn’t understand what this means. She isn’t sure it was done in response to her question or if it was something else. Millie begins to think about what she is going to do now that Garesh has left her behind. Without Garesh, where will she live? Where will she sleep? What will she eat? She could go back to Garesh’s house, but Garesh said that they had to leave the city as quickly as possible because the A.S.S.F. would know who they were and where they were living.

Then Millie remembers. Ystra. She was nice enough to help her find Garesh’s house when she was lost. She didn't trust Ystra at first because Ystra works with Lauren, who tried to kill Garesh. But Millie is over that now. Garesh is a murderer. He killed innocent children. If she was in Lauren’s shoes, she probably might have tried to kill Lauren too. Right now, her best bet is to try and find Ystra. But the city is really big, how would she find Ystra? She doesn’t know where Ystra lives. She doesn’t even know where Garesh lives.

“You may not know your name.” Millie says, “But I’m still here for you, I’m your friend.” The limb spiked through the woman’s head waves up and down as though trying to simulate nodding, but instead of just moving the head, it moves the whole branch. “I’m your friend.” The creature says back. Millie knows she can’t survive out here in the forest, but she doesn’t want to leave this poor Screamer alone. People will freak out if they see my friend! Millie thinks to herself, We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

“Friend, I live in the city. I can’t stay in the forest.” Millie says, and even as she speaks she can see her friend begin to shutter again, “B-but it’s okay. You can come with me. We can both stay together in the city. I know of a safe place where no one will hurt us.” Her friend’s head is lowered to meet her own, face-to-face. Even though there is no change in the stiff, wide-mouthed face, Millie thinks she can catch skepticism in its dark, unblinking, unmoving eyes. It doesn’t believe that they can be safe in the city. Millie imagines that her friend’s experiences with humans must have been rough given her monstrous appearance.

She thinks it’s so silly that people would judge her on her appearance alone. Some dark red liquid drips down the side of her friend’s skin-covered, barkless, tree stump inplace of a torso. The female deer impaled on the spike has stopped struggling. It’s dead. Oh yeah. Millie remembers, She was going to kill us before I gave her some beads.

“Trust me, friend. I just want the best for you.” Millie says, “You haven’t had a real childhood yet, and you can’t have one out here in the wilderness. Let’s go back to the city!” Her friend lowers its head to face downwards, and the voice like branches scratching on a record player, the voice from her unmoving lips emits “Let’s go back to the city.”

Millie cheers and assures her friend that this is a great choice. But her friend doesn’t make eye-contact. Or maybe she does? It’s hard to tell when her eyes stare blankly into the distance. Millie excitedly leads her friend back in the direction of the city, lights easily visible in the dark night. Millie grimaces in pain as she walks along the ground. Sticks cracking beneath her bare feet, and rocks and bone fragments poking the undersides of her feet. Her feet hurt, but Garesh didn’t care. There isn’t much she can do about it but press on. The sooner she gets back to the city, the sooner the pain will stop.

Her friend notices Millie's efforts of pain, grunting and hissing when stumbles over another corpse, her foot getting caught in its ribcage. She scratches her legs as she pulls it out. She can’t tell if the blood on her feet is from her or the bodies littering the ground. I don’t remember there being this many bodies when we came this way from the city. Millie thinks to herself. Her friend strikes one of her far too many limbs through the torso of one of the corpses and raises it onto the spike-like appendage on her back.

Millie now notices that many of these bodies are charred. These must be the ones from Clementine’s Banquet. Millie wonders why they are in the forest instead of the morgue in the city. Something must have moved the bodies. Humans wouldn’t leave their dead behind. This is quite a disturbing thought for Millie, but it’s not nearly as concerning to her as the pain of each step she takes.

“Millie?” Her friend asks, unliving face displaying no hint of emotion despite the worry in her scratchy voice. Millie knows she was complaining quite a bit to Garesh, but she doesn’t want to give a bad impression to her new friend. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Millie says, as she tries to grin and bear it, “My feet just hurt a little.”

“Millie, I’m taking you.” Her friend says, lowering her branch-like limbs down around Millie, constricting around her, “Your feet hurt.” Millie isn’t quite sure what her friend is doing as she feels herself lifted into the air. Then she finds herself hanging above the spike on her friend’s back. Millie starts to squirm. She remembers what her friend said to Garesh when she was planning on impaling them on her spike, she had said “Taking… you.” Millie breathes quick shallow breaths as she frantically struggles against crooked limbs with misshapen joints twisting limbs to hold her tight. “No! No! I trusted you!” Millie says, “I’m your friend, don’t hurt me!”

“Don’t worry. I’m your friend.” The creature says, “Your feet hurt.” The limbs lower towards the spike. Millie’s fear only increases despite the creature’s words as she is pulled closer and closer to the spike. “Stop! I thought you were my friend.” Millie screams, “You’re going to kill me!” She stops. Millie is hanging a few feet above the spike.

“I thought you trusted me.” The creature says, scratchy voice sounding hurt. Millie looks down at the spike just a few feet below her. If she wanted me dead, she’d kill me no matter what I say. Millie thinks to herself. Millie steels herself as she reminds herself that this is her friend, that she should give her friend the benefit of the doubt. “I… I trust you.” Millie says, “I know you won’t hurt me.” With that, the limbs holding tight around her begin to sink back down towards the spike-like appendage again.

Millie can’t help but stare at the corpses skewered beneath her. She pulls her legs up to keep from touching the bodies, but the branches holding her push up against the cadavers. She notices that she is being pushed down on the side of the spike, not impaled through the top. Millie is relieved that she hasn’t died, and now she begins to realize why her friend would bring her up there. Millie wraps her arms around the spike to help keep from falling. It’s unpleasant because she’s hugging past bloodied corpses. “Oh, I see. Thank you for carrying me. That’s really thoughtful of you.” Millie says, still a bit rattled as she is now amongst corpses, “I’m sorry for not giving you the trust you deserve. From now on, you can count on me to trust and believe you.” Millie would rather walk barefoot on the corpse-laiden forest floor than hug the stiff bone-like spike skewering dead bodies. But Millie has already insulted her new friend by showing a lack of trust. Millie is willing to graciously accept this service even if she doesn’t like it.

Her friend begins to walk. Or rather, it is more of a skittering crawl than a walk. So many limbs that punch into the ground like spider legs to lift the tree stump-like torso off the ground. But despite being the size of a small tree, Millie’s friend moves rather quickly. Millie realizes as she holds tight from on top her friend, that she had just been slowing her friend down. Millie’s pace was like a snail’s crawl. This creature is quite swift and agile, moving probably twice as fast as Garesh had been speed-walking through the forest.

Millie notices that her friend is moving almost silently despite the pace. The spear-like branches punching into the ground, slice effortlessly into the forest floor with barely an impact. Millie notices that there are less and less corpses littering the ground as they continue, moving away from the high concentration of bodies.

A high-pitched scream from what sounds like a young human woman erupts a few yards to the right. Millie’s friend stops moving. Millie can see her friend’s head turned towards the direction of the sound. Millie can see a human woman there hand clenched around the shirt of a human woman. She is shaking him and pointing towards Millie’s friend with squeals of terror. Millie can see the situation is getting out of hand incredibly quickly. She doesn’t know whether to try and explain to the people that her friend isn’t dangerous or whether she should have her friend run away from the couple.

Millie still hasn’t thought of a response when her friend has begun to slowly approach the couple. The two figures take a few steps back, stepping into the moonlight. Millie can see them more clearly now. Their glossy skin shimmers, reflecting the shine of the moon. As they walk through the moonlit grove, Millie can see their flawless skin, smooth and straight hair, and clean casual clothes. They wear shorts and short-sleeved shirts, as though they were out in the heat of the sun, rather than standing in the chill of the night. Their perfectly white teeth are visible in their mouth wide open in a cheerful smile. Millie finds it kind of odd that they look so happy. The woman was screaming just a little bit ago. Millie thinks to herself, People smile like that when they’re scared.

Millie’s friend lowers the branch-like limb that has a woman’s head skewered on it. Once her face is down to head level with the couple, they stop walking. “E-Brab.” Millie’s friend says, joints twisting in the branch to swerve the head towards the woman, “E-Nek,” she says, gesturing with her head at the man. The woman nods in confirmation. Then she opens her mouth and shrieks.

“You’re hurt?” Millie’s friend asks, head-skewering limb rotating to cock the head sideways. The glossy woman blinks. A slow, deliberate action, as though it takes much focus to complete. Then, face still smiling, she stiffly opens and closes her mouth to speak, and eventually she begins to do so. “You can talk?” The woman asks, “And you remember our names?” Millie isn’t sure where this creature got the idea that her friend somehow knew their names, and she thinks it is kind of silly to assume that a Screamer can’t speak just because it looks monstrous.

The two glossy people take a step backwards. Millie can see that their cheery faces, their constant smiles seem a bit forced, as if they aren’t really feeling as happy as their faces expression indicates.

“Well, it’s nice to see you again.” The glossy woman says, taking another step backwards, “But we really should be going.”

Millie’s friend closes the distance between her and the glossy people with a swift skittering of spear-like limbs. “E-Brab, you’re going?” Millie’s friend asks. The glossy woman starts to laugh, but it seems nervous. “Ha ha ha!” The glossy woman laughs, eyes wide turning to her companion, the man. The two make eye-contact and they both nod, something unspoken passing between them.

The man speaks, his voice is smooth. “Yeah, we’re leaving. We just need a change of scenery.” He says, though his eyes dart between the impaled woman’s head that is the face of Millie’s friend and to where Millie is huddled up against corpses skewered on the spike, “We’d prefer to live somewhere a further away from the city, so we don’t have to deal with so many… tourists.”

The man’s eyes continue to flick between Millie and her friends until suddenly they stop on Millie. Millie freezes in place and the man’s face cracks like a vessel of porcelain being slammed by a hammer. Shards of his glossy skin fall to the ground and reveal a different expression beneath, grimacing in terror. The man covers his face as he screams: fear, not pain.

The glossy woman, E-Brab, turns to the man, small slivering splinters beginning to form in her own face. “E-Nek, what’s wrong?” She asks, smile seeming more and more forced. The man grabs her arm and begins to pull her back away from Millie and her friend. Millie holds on tight as her friend marches after them, keeping close. “E-Nek! Stop! You can’t turn your back and run.” E-Brab hisses, “You’ll activate it’s predatory instinct!”

E-Nek points up at the bodies on the spike. Millie feels like he’s pointing directly at her. “That’s the girl that was with the man and the Incorporeals.” E-Nek says, “It’s eating them, and we’re next!”

Millie’s figures that those glossy people aren’t humans. With the cracks in the face, it has to be a Screamer. So she can’t figure out why they’re treating her friend like a wild animal, talking about predatory instinct and acting surprised when she can talk.

“Stop, turn back.” Millie’s friend says in her scratchy voice like sticks rubbing against bark as she chases after them, “E-Nek, nice to see you? E-Brab, Stop your run!”

Shards of porcelain skin fall from the heads of the glossy couple as they sprint in terror, screams reverberating from their shaking frames, endless as such creatures don’t need to pause to breathe. Millie can’t let this go on any longer. “Stop chasing them!” Millie says, “You’re scaring them!”

“No! We can’t stop!” Her friend cries, “They’re leaving!”

“Let them go. We don’t need them.” Millie says, “Remember, you’re coming with me to the city. There are people there who I’m sure will appreciate you much more than those two.”

Her friend slows to a stop, and the two porcelain people continue to sprint, overwhelming fear driving them to flee. Millie wonders why they decided to leave the city. She is certain that they don't have very many tourists in the wilderness outside of the city. So there must be some other reason as well. But Millie can’t even begin to guess what would drive them to move so far away.

“Let’s head back to the city.” Millie says. Her friend sobs, the sound of scratching branches resonating from her stiff, unmoving face, mouth still open as though to scream. Her friend begins to skitter in the direction of the city, and Millie can only hope that she can find a way to contact Ystra before anyone notices Millie’s friend. But She is stumped as to how she could possibly get ahold of Ystra without also drawing unwanted attention from everyone else as well. Her friend is counting on her and trusting her to bring her into the city to a safe place, but Millie fears that she may instead be leading her friend into danger. But she can’t give up. She must bring her friend to safety within the city.

Millie stares at the distant lights of the city. It’s only a few miles away, and at her friend’s pace, Millie might arrive in less than an hour.

…

…

…

“I can’t believe she just left us.” Salsan says, watching Greesha hurl herself past the canopy and out of sight with her grappling hook arm, “This is really bad.” Salsan isn’t sure how she is going to survive without the Captain. Allegedly, there isn’t anything lethal here. But from what she has seen so far, the punishment of getting caught in a trap or ambushed is terrible injury and being knocked unconscious. It seems rather dangerous to her. She can’t imagine that this is even the least bit legal. She has had agents from her team sent here to gather intel before, she wonders why she never heard anything about these Trials from them.

With her night vision glasses, she’s able to see the lanky old man, Culpata, and the beefy warrior, Chylclanth, both looking at her intently, as though expecting something from her. “What do we do now?” Culpata asks. Salsan gasps as she realizes that the other Captains are looking to her for leadership. She clasps her hands together in front of her to stop them from trembling. “We need to keep going.” Salsan says, “Maybe we can find Isuertal.” Salsan wonders whether it is actually a good idea to find Isuertal. But surely Isuertal will help them through the Trials if she learns that Greesha has abandoned them, right?

“Lead the way, Salsan.” Chylclanth says. Salsan freezes. She isn’t used to walking in front of the group. She isn’t used to being in the lead. She isn’t used to everyone depending on her for safety. She steels herself and begins to march forwards, eyes out for traps. She can’t help but feel completely vulnerable. Blinding bright lights shine up towards the canopy like skylights, illuminating the swaying branches from where Captain Greesha has recently departed. Where are those lights coming from? She squints her eyes and turns a dial on the side of her glasses, increasing the magnification levels. Enhanced image, she sees a group of people in the distance holding large metal cylinders that radiate beams of light.

“There are some people over there.” Salsan says to Culpata and Chyclanth, “Maybe they can help us.”

Culpata cowers behind Chylclanth. “What if they’re more pursuers?” Culpata asks. Chylclanth nods in agreement with Culpata’s fear. Salsan is also afraid. She doesn’t know anything about the Trials, and the pursuers are more violent than Captain Greesha would ever allow the A.S.S.F. to be. And Salsan can’t help shake the feeling that this would be the perfect place for a Screamer to hunt. How much do I really trust Isuertal? Salsan shakes the doubts from her head. “So? What if they are pursuers? They’re just humans.” Salsan says, “We deal with Screamers on a regular basis. Are we too scared to confront some humans? Let’s go join them. They can help show us the ropes. If they pursue us, that’s their mistake.”

Culpata stands upright and Chylclanth tightens his fists in determination. Salsan just wishes she felt as confident as she sounded. She marches towards the group, dialing her vision back to normal magnification. The group is only a speck of light in the distance, sometimes hidden behind trees and bushes. Salsan guesses that they’re about a quarter-mile away. But trudging through the brush with branches snagging on their clothes, and treading cautiously to avoid traps slows them down. As she passes another tripline that has already been tripped, and a man held up against a tree by a net, head slumped against his shoulder, unconscious, Salsan wonders where the pursuers that set these traps are. Wouldn’t they stay to check their traps?

They’re halfway to the group of people when Salsan hears a groan. from the bushes beside her. It sounds like it’s in pain. She freezes. Slowly turning to face the noise, her heart beats louder when she sees the body through her night vision glasses. Heat signature is hidden by a mucus slathered over its body. However, She can see its warmth escaping through the bloody wounds in its sides. It looks like the poor woman has been stabbed. This is just a trick. A horror scene like Isuertal’s Lassosine. But the body isn’t moving. It’s barely breathing. Despite herself, Salsan comes closer. I can’t believe I’m falling for this. This is clearly a trap to lure me in. Salsan can’t help but feel that something is wrong. That this is real.

“Is it a pursuer or a participant?” Culpata asks.

“It’s not coming after us. Maybe it’s bait?” Chylclanth conjectures, “Is it luring us in for another to come after us?”

“Do pursuers work in groups?” Culpata asks, “Isuertal doesn’t.”

Salsan feels herself frozen in place, staring at the body. This isn’t part of the Trials. This woman needs medical attention! Salsan turns to the other captains. “Chylclanth, Culpata. We need to make a stretcher.” Salsan says, “Chylclanth. Gather two long straight sticks that can support her weight. Culpata, disarm one of the cocoon traps that yanks you up to the canopy and bring the canvis here.”

No one moves. “Salsan, you don’t actually think-” Chylclanth begins to say before Salsan cuts him off. “Chylclanth, get moving. I don’t care if this is a trap.” Salsan says, “I’m not leaving this woman to die.”

Chylclanth and Culpata run off into the woods, their heat signatures kneeling on the ground in the distance to gather the supplies Salsan requested. Salsan investigates the woman further. She is wearing an equipment belt holding tripline, and wire-cutters. Metal cuffs on her wrists have pitons that look like it hammers into a surface and detaches to hold the line taut between trees. Salsan thinks she is beginning to understand just what this person does in the Trials. But this only makes her more worried as to their apparent condition.

Chylclanth and Culpata return, and they layer the canvis around the two sticks and lift the body onto the stretcher. Chylclanth takes one side of the stretcher, Salsan and Culpata take the other. It’s heavy, and Salsan finds it is hard to travel very far without needing to take a break. But now they are getting closer to the group of people that have really bright lights that sway from the side to side, spotlights traveling through the forest. She can now faintly hear their voices in the distance. “Flying past the canopy… jumping from the trees… So many traps… oddly silent.”

Salsan and the captains lower the stretcher to the ground. “I’m going to meet up with them first. This wounded woman is a pursuer. Use her equipment.” Salsan says, “Set up some triplines. If they come after me, lead them down this path and dive at their ankles. Hopefully, they’ll be willing to help.” Salsan meekly steps towards the group of strangers. Now that she's close, she can see exactly what they are holding. Those metal cylinders that shine beams of lights are stadium lights. Because they are all holding these massive shining lights, Salsan can determine their numbers. There are six of them. Some of them turn at the sound of her approach. She covers her face as they shine their blindingly bright lights at her. “Get her!” A woman’s voice from the group says firmly. She hears heavy thuds as two of the members drop their stadium lights and charge towards her. Eyes squeezed closed, hands blocking her sight, Salsan doesn’t see them coming. She can’t react. She cries out in pain as someone pulls her hands away from her face, forcing her arms behind her. Another one wraps rope around her wrists and tightens a knot. Salsan falls to the ground and the lights continue to shine down on her. She turns away from the light, squeezing her eyes against the pain.

“Why are you so bold as to approach us?” The woman from the group says. The woman keeps her light on Salsan while the others fan their lights on all sides, searching for any others that may approach. Due to this constant surveillance, Chylclanth and Culpata have to stay hidden behind trees. Salsan holds her face towards the ground so the light isn’t shining directly in her eyes. “I need your help.” Salsan says.

“I’ve heard that one before.” The woman says, “Do you think we were born yesterday?”

“No, no. You don’t understand. We found someone that’s terribly injured.” Salsan says, “Greesha and Isuertal abandoned us. I don’t know what to do!”

The woman is silent for a moment. When she answers, her tone is softer and almost sympathetic. “So this is your first time, huh?” The woman asks, “Brought to the Trials with little to no explanation, ditched at the first opportunity. That’s a surprisingly common first experience with the Trials.”

“Y-yeah, it’s my first time. But-” Salsan stammers.

“Now don’t worry about those corpses and wounded participants.” The woman says, “Those are fake injuries. It’s all part of the atmosphere. Many newcomers try to call the police or the A.S.S.F. when they first come through, not realizing that the fake wounds are all part of the game.”

Salsan is glad she found someone that appears to understand her worries. Wait, if people call the police and A.S.S.F., I should have known about this a long time ago! Salsan can’t shake the fear. The wounds on the pursuer they found. That can’t be fake! “C-can we stay with your group?” Salsan asks.

“We?” The woman asks.

“M-my friends are back there with the wounded person we found.” Salsan says, squirming in her bonds a bit. The woman lifts her light off of Salsan and shines it towards the trees behind her. With the light off her, Salsan can now see that the woman is frowning in distrust. “Yes…” The woman says slowly, “You and your friends can join us.” Salsan hesitates a bit. Wonderin whether it is safe to reveal Chylclanth and Culpata’s exact locations. But she gives in and yells back towards the trees. “Chylclanth, Culpata, come here, and bring the cripple.”

The woman stares at the two figures marching towards them with a body on a stretcher. Salsan can see the woman, tense, ready to act. Salsan’s arms are still tied behind her back. She suspects she will have to earn their trust before they remove her bonds.

“That’s close enough.” The woman says, causing Chylclanth and Culpata to stop about 20 feet away, “Let down the body.” Chylclanth and Culpata look to Salsan for permission. Salsan nods. They gently set down the stretcher.

“Step away from the body.” The woman says. Again, Chylclanth and Culpata look to Salsan for permission. After Salsan gives her approval, they step aside as the rest of this group that carries stadium lights surrounds Chylclanth and Culpata and checks them for traps and weapons.

“Morsol, investigate the wounds of that ‘cripple.’” The woman says, voice indicating that she doesn’t believe that the woman on the stretcher is actually crippled. A man carefully approaches the wounded woman on the stretcher and shines his light down on her. He gasps. “That’s a pursuer!” Morsol says, jumping back. But the woman on the ground doesn’t move. So he slowly returns to the body and checks the wounds.

He wipes the wound clean, but blood pours back into the puncture hole. Morsol goes pale as it refills with blood each time he cleans it. He looks up at his leader and says, “Beaudice, these injuries are real.”

“Well, that isn’t too uncommon.” Beaudice says with irritation, “If you’re not careful, you can really hurt yourself with these traps.” Beaudice is the woman that Salsan had been talking with. Beaudice seems to be the leader. Morsol shakes his head. “No, Beaudice. You’ve got to see this.” Morsol says, “This isn’t some accidental laceration with tripwires or puncturing with an automatic piton. These are stab wounds.”

Salsan had been hoping she had been mistaken in her assessment of the injury, but with these strangers coming to the same conclusion, goosebumps rise on her skin as chills go down her back. There is only one explanation she can come up with. There is a killer on the loose. And in the Trials, no one will notice until it is too late.

Beaudice directs one of the other members to watchover Salsan as she inspects the injured pursuer. She can hear Beaudice and Morsol mumbling to each other, but she can’t make out what they’re saying. After a few minutes of incoherent deliberation from the mumbling Beaudice and Morsol, they stand up. “Everybody, listen up. We have a change of plans.” Beaudice says, “There might be a real-life murderer nearby, so we’re going to slowly and carefully make our way back to the camp. There are some grumbles of concern from the other members of the team.

“You mean, someone’s out here with a gun!” A man asks, panicked. Beaudice rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jhsdio, if there was a gun, we would have heard it.” Beaudice says, “No, this person goes around with a knife.” The man, Jhsdio, looks noticeably less worried. Salsan finds that odd. Does he really think that a killer with a gun is so much more dangerous than a killer with a knife? Both will end your life with ease, so why is he only worried about guns?

“This group of newcomers will be coming with us.” Beaudice says, gesturing towards Salsan and her fellow captains, “As the more experienced participants, it is our duty to ensure their safety.” With this, Beaudice gestures to Morsol, who takes out a pocket knife and approaches Salsan. Salsan yelps and falls on her back, kicking against the ground with her legs to push herself backwards, away from the man. “Hey, calm down.” Morsol says, “I’m just going to cut the rope.” Salsan stops squirming. She sighs, and smiles. She realizes how foolish it is to have worried that Morsol would hurt her. She lets him release her from the rope, and she regroups with Culpata and Chylclanth. They are worried for the safety of the participantsw in the Trials if there is a murderer on the loose. Salsan thinks that ordinary participants probably have a better chance of survival than them.

Salsan follows Beaudice as she leads the group through the forest. Salsan is glad to have someone else take charge. She may be a captain, but it is one thing to order an agent to receive intel on a suspected Screamer, and it is another thing entirely to lead a team through danger. With Beaudice taking the burden off her shoulders, Salsan can finally focus on the task at hand rather than worrying about everyone looking to her for answers. Beaudice stares at  Salsan. “You said this was your first time, right?” Beaudice says. Salsan isn’t sure why but she feels anxious about answering. “Y-yes. This is our first time.” Salsan says.

“Strange. You’ve got thermal vision.” Beaudice says, pointing at Salsan’s glasses, “I wouldn’t expect a newcomer to be so well prepared, but at the same time, you lack basic equipment.” Salsan notices that Beaudice and her group are all wearing hiking backpacks. Salsan feels woefully unprepared compared to Beaudice. She had the foresight to bring thermal vision glasses, but couldn’t think of anything else she might need. The overwhelming darkness is all more terrifying with the knowledge that a killer is out there. Even worse, the wounded woman doesn’t register on her thermal vision glasses. Well, her blood does, but her body doesn’t. She’s slathered in some sort of lacquer. She wonders about that.

Salsan is staring at the woman when she notices a face in the corner of her eye. She turns to see Beaudice staring back at her. “You seem awfully interested in that injury.” Beaudice says, “Don’t get too attached. You realize we’ll have to leave her behind, right?”

Salsan’s jaw drops open. “What? Leave her behind?” Salsan asks, “Why?”

Beaudice shakes her head. “I’m no professional, but she’s been stabbed in the gut.” Beaudice says sadly, “There’s nothing we can do. If she’s been stabbed, that means the killer is nearby. We can’t afford to be slowed down by someone who’s going to die anyway.” Salsan doesn’t agree with Beaudice’s line of thinking. Salsan can’t just leave someone for dead. Beaudice packs up her stadium light and begins to lead the march away. But Salsan doesn’t move. She can’t just leave.

“You’re all fine with this? You’re all just going to leave her here?” Salsan asks angrily, to the group. The other members of Beaudice’s group look at Beaudice, who doesn’t meet her eyes. Beaudice says nothing. She is not going to answer the same question again. Salsan sighs. Salsan won’t follow Beaudice. She had been hoping to let Beaudice take leadership over her and her fellow captains. Salsan realizes that she will have to take charge. She will have to continue being a leader. It’s what Captain Greesha would do. No. It isn’t. She realizes. She puts that thought aside.

“Would you leave Beaudice behind?” Salsan asks the group, a resolve growing in her as she strives to emulate Captain Greesha.  No. Not like Captain Greesha, but something different.

Beaudice turns to face her. “What was that?” Beaudice asks, though Salsan is certain that she heard her loud and clear.

“This question isn’t for you, Beaudice. It’s for your friends.” Salsan says, looking each of Beaudice’s four companions in the eyes, “Would you leave your leader and friend, Beaudice, behind to die?” Salsan can already see the answer in their eyes. Their anger rising at her question.

“We’ll never leave Beaudice behind.” Jhsdio says, “But she’s our friend. We’d risk our lives for her. We don’t even know that pursuer.” Salsan sighs in disappointment as the group turns away. “Captain Greesha left me, but I won’t leave this pursuer to die.” Salsan says, “And won’t let you leave to die either.”

Before Beaudice has time to process what sounded almost like a threat, Salsan shouts. “Cylclanth, the rope! Tie them up!” The beefy man seems just as surprised as Beaudice and her companions. “Tie them up?” He asks, not believing his ears. Never would he have ever imagined Salsan to suggest something so, well not violent, but confrontational. “Yes, tie them up!” Salsan says, “Morsol has the rope.”

Chylclanth finally gets his wits about him and charges towards Morsol, who is ready for him, having heard Salsan describe the plan for Chylclanth. He throws the rope to another woman in the group, Rohdk. Chylclanth pauses, considering whether he should continue to chase down Morsol or go after Rohdk. Salsan rolls her eyes, as Beaudice charges directly towards her. Uh oh, she has the same plan as me! “Culpata! Remember your training!” Salsan says, knowing full well that Culpata’s training had been as an archivist to help her with Screamer reports and identification, “It’s time to be a Ghost Operative. Bait and Switch!” Salsan pointed to Beaudice as she yelled this.

To be honest, Salsan has no idea what bait and switch means, but she’s heard it in Spy movies before. She knows Culpata won’t be of much help, but if she can divide Beaudice’s attention and distract her, Salsan should be able to get out of reach. Unfortunately for Salsan, Culpapta is a bit more competent than she expected. But not actually skilled enough to make things any better.

Beaudice hopes to overtake Salsan before the old man catches up to her. And being youthful and fit, she expects she will easily be able to do so. But Culpata doesn’t need to be youthful or fit. He has a characteristic found in most everyone but only mentioned in old people, he’s spry. He lifts the bag of triplines that they took from the fallen pursuer and launches one of its wires to a branch above Beaudice. Then he locked the line in position and pushed the bag swinging towards Beaudice. It knocks the stadium light out of her hand. The tripline wire holding the bag snaps under the incredible stress of the bag hitting a stadium light, and the bag lands in the hands of Beaudice where she was holding the stadium light.

Beaudice looks between Salsan and Culpata incredulously. Salsan pretends that this is what she intended all along, but then freezes with fear when she sees Beaudice smile. “Well, this is even better than a flashlight.” Beaudice says, “Pulling tripline out from the bag.” Salsan and Culpata have made a terrible mistake. They gave Beaudice, someone who had participated in hundreds of trials, the trapping kit of a pursuer.

Beaudice approaches and Culpata runs to catch up. But he is an old man after all, and not very fit. Beaudice is well to not fear him. She stares straight ahead at Salsan. Shouts of commotion and movement whirl in the corner of Salsan’s eye as the four other group members are playing monkey in the middle with the rope as Chylclanth chases the rope, struggling to get his hands on it.

“Sorry, dear.” Beaudice says, “But you have to understand that as participants in the Trials, we put our own survival first.” Salsan backs away from Beaudice but stumbles as she hits a tree behind her. She hugs her arms around the tree, catching herself from falling. None of this would have happened if Captain Greesha hadn’t left us. If Isuertal hadn’t left us. Salsan feels a sort of burning feeling inside her chest. A strong emotion. A determination. I will not leave anyone behind. She looks up to Beaudice, who has lengthened the tripwire in coils around her arm.

The stadium light lies on the ground far behind Beaudice, pointing towards them. Backlit by the stadium light, Beaudice appears almost as though she were nothing but a silhouette. Something twitches in Salsan’s mind. Silhouettes. Incorporeal Screamers. Salsan knows all about Screamers, more than anyone in the Strike Force except for possibly Captain Greesha. Salsan took the physical training courses when she was a recruit in Angel Strike Force with Captain Greesha. If she didn’t abhor violence so much, she would have made a great field agent.

Salsan takes a deep breath. Studying Beaudice closely as she approaches, now only ten feet away. Salsan may be out of practice when it comes to physical training, but her Screamer knowledge is at its peak. And because she has studied everything there is to know about Screamers. Because she has watched and rewatches tapes and recordings of Screamers and their combat against field agents, studying their tactics to see if there is any weakness she can inform the field agents of, she noticed what others might not have noticed.

Beaudice is right-handed. She held the coil in her left hand and the end of the line in her right. About 7 feet away, Beaudice slightly turns to face a bit more to the right; she lifts her right foot, allowing it to hang in the air for just a bit. Salsan recognizes this. Every Screamer makes some sort of posture when they’re about to strike. A vampire might roll their shoulders back, smooth their hair, and check their breath before going in for the kill while a werewolf lowers its shoulders and kneels on all-fours, ready to pounce. A right-handed person turns to the right ever so slightly.

Anticipating the attack, Salsan steps back to the other side of the tree, out of sight, just as Beaudice goes all out to charge forward. Now unseen, Salsan raises both of her arms and grabs a low-hanging branch. She curls her legs up as Beaudice rounds the corner of the tree. Slam. She plants both of her feet firmly into Beaudice’s head, the force of this causes her to lose her grip on the branch. She falls to the ground, feet landing on top of Beaudice.

Salsan is stunned. She can’t believe she did that. She fought back. The terror and excitement flow through. The thrill is unmistakable and horrible. She feels so energized to get physically violent. But now she lays there. Unable to move out of paralyzing fear. She hurt someone. She can’t bear to look to see if Beaudice is still conscious. What if she’s bleeding? What if she’s terribly injured? Salsan could never stomach looking at someone who’s hurt, knowing that she is the one that hurt them.

The body beneath her legs shuffles and pushes her legs off. Beaudice crawls to her feet, using the trunk of the tree to support her. She has a hand to her head and winces in pain. But she is still very much up and active. Salsan is still on the ground, lying face up. She can’t move. The terror is too much. Crunching leaves come up from behind Beaudice and arms hug around her belly, from behind. Culpata has caught up and is struggling to hold Beaudice still to help Salsan. He’s not sure what Salsan needs help with, but he’s certain that keeping Beaudice from chasing after her would make it a lot easier.

Salsan slowly  gets up to her feet, having finally regained some of her composure. She doesn’t want to harm anybody. She regrets having kicked Beaudice in the head, there is a bruise there now. With the wire coiled around Beaudice’s left arm and the end held in Beaudice’s right hand, Salsan has to be wary not to get too close.

Salsan lunges forwards and grabs the end of the tripline with her right hand. She pulls it back behind Beaudice as Culpata panics, dropping Beaudice. Beaudice falls to her side, her right side. Salsan wraps Beaudice with the tripline and fastens the tripline tight. Then Culpata and her begin dragging Beaudice out towards the other four.

Chylclanth has finally caught the rope, but it’s only long enough to tie up one person. A man named Trylojen has been tied up and the rest of the group are trying to free him. They dash into the clearing from the bushes from different sides to try and drag Trylojen away from Chylclanth, who is guarding the hostage. Once they are close enough to be illuminated by their stadium lights, Salsan begins. “You said you wouldn’t leave Beaudice behind.” Salsan says, “I hope you are true to your word.” The commotion between Chylclanth and the group stops. They all stare at Beaudice, humiliatingly captured. Beaudice stays silent to save face.

“There is a killer on the loose. Staying together is the only way to survive.” Salsan says, “If only because staying together will keep you close enough for us to protect.” A man named Jhsdio opens his mouth to say something but Morsol shoots him a glare, causing him to keep his silence. He was probably going to say something about how it is them that would be protecting us, not the other way around, Salsan thinks to herself. “So how about it?” Salsan asks, “Will you stay with us and live, or will you leave Beaudice behind and die by the hands of a killer?” Jhsdio looks very displeased at the ultimatum, as though he believes that those two options don’t quite represent the situation. Nevertheless, they look to Beaudice, but she keeps her face expressionless, so they look to Morsol for advice instead.

“We’ll stay here.” Morsol says, “We won’t let you hurt our friends.” Salsan doesn’t intend to hurt anyone. They probably know that. But, she can see Morsol wording it that way makes her seem like the bad guy. Salsan is fine with that. She can be the bad guy if necessary to save their lives. She’s sure they’d all rather deal with her as a bad guy than a whatever psychopathic murderer is the bad guy in the forest.

As Salsan plans her next steps, she thinks bitterly back to how both Captain Greesha and Isuertal abandoned her. Isuertal begged her to come to this camp, and Salsan only came because Isuertal had a meltdown at the hospital. She feels a bit betrayed for Isuertal to then ditch them at the first opportunity. Then there is Captain Greesha who made all this talk about how they need to get to know eachother better, so they can trust each other when they start accepting new recruits; but she also left a few minutes after the Trials started.

Salsan is determined not to make the same mistake as them. Chylclanth and Culpata look to her for leadership, not because she is a good leader, decisive, or even experienced. They look to her for leadership because she didn’t leave them behind. They trust her. Isuertal and Captain Greesha have a lot to learn about trust if they think their actions are promoting such a bond.