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Seeds of the Paradise

Once upon time, there was a big garden in a small village. There was an old man, who took care of it. Every people who have walked by the garden, stopped to admire the flowers and the fragrance of them. Two little children, who lived in the neighborhood, walked behind of the fence at one day. They saw an old gardener in the garden. He was very old man with white hair and white long beard on his face. He looked kind and the children decided to talk with him. They, like many others, were curious about the secret how his garden was so wonderful.

The gardener greeted them with welcoming smile and asked what they want. "We like your garden so much. Here, there are some many different flowers and a lot of butterflies. How everything is so lush and bountiful here? So different than in other gardens?" said the little boy.

"It´s a hard work mostly", laughed the gardener "and the seeds of course. But now, as you are here, would you mind to help me a little? Then I will tell you the secret of these seeds."

So children, a sister and a brother, asked how they can help him. Gardener showed to them where they can get some water and how to watering the plants. They carried many buckets of water to the roses and carrots and to thymes. Work was hard, water buckets were heavy and soon a little girl said: "I am so tired. Let´s run to play for a while. This isn´t our duty to carry these buckets. Why doesn’t he do his works by himself?" But the boy answered: "It wouldn´t be kind. And remember, he promised to tell his secrets to us. Don´t you like to hear?"

So they continued and later old gardener taught them also to sow some new seeds. "What kind of seeds these are?" asked the boy. "They are the seeds of the Paradise", said old gardener. "If you still help me a little, I will offer to you some drink and a story."

The day was hot, sun was shining and children were tired when all work was lately done. The old gardener took them to sit to benches under the big tree, gave them glass of juice and sat himself too.

"Today you too have become gardeners, you two" said the old man and smiled. "But the seeds you have just sowed weren´t any kind of seeds. They were the seeds of the Paradise."

"How come? What kind of seeds they are then?" asked the little boy.

"Every time when you help some others, make good deeds, say a kind word to others, you sow a seed in the garden of the Paradise", said the old gardener. "You might see some of the flowers already in this world with the eyes and smiles of others you help but all those flowers of the good works will wait you later, in the garden of the Paradise.

Today, you sow your first seeds. I am old and tired and as you saw, the work here is hard to me. Day is hot and I was so tired but then you came to help me. It was a good work. Every good work you will do in this life is one seed."

"But do we then have to come here every day to carry the water buckets?", asked the little girl. "They are so heavy to us."

"No, not here. In your life, wherever you go you will see people in need, some hungry, some in trouble, some have lost all they hope. When you help them by any way, you are actually sowing a seed. These kinds of seeds are the beginnings of the most beautiful flowers as you sow them to other people´s hearts. The angels count every single seed and take them to the garden of Paradise. When time comes, and you, if Allah wills, will enter to the Paradise, all those seeds will be waiting for you there. Or no, not just seeds but the flowers that have grown from them.

But be careful with those seeds; if you meet people who ask help but you just walk away from them without helping them, your seeds will not grow. If you do bad things to others, your seeds will not germinate at all. They will fall to the dry ground and die. By every dead seed also part of you, part of your heart will die. People whom their all seeds have died, have to carry the dead, rock-heavy heart with them wherever they go and that´s bitter, hard way to live. Kind of people don´t never see or feel any happiness in this life or at the hereafter. They have been bad gardeners, whose haven´t had wisdom to take care of their seeds. Let your seeds live, take care of them as they are fragile."

The old man stayed silent and smiled then to the children. "It´s time to go home as it´s late. Now remember my words and take with you some little bags of my seeds. Put them to the fresh soil, give them water and love and one day they will delight you with their beautiful flowers. And not only you but everyone who will see them."

The children said their thanks to the old gardener and left. At the gate of the garden, they stopped and turned to look at the garden for the last time. The old gardener still sitting on his bench, smiled and said: "Remember to sow your seeds, dear children. It´s all up to you regarding how they will grow."

Hostage Crisis

ONE

It leered at him, eyes glimmering with the thrill of the hunt. Its growl shuddered through his chest. He gripped the shotgun tighter. The hellhound paced closer, drooled dark ellipses onto the snow-covered ground.

Then it pounced.

Abe aimed. Fired. The hellhound’s left ear disappeared in a red mist. Abe smiled grimly as the whining creature dropped.

A child screamed.

He turned toward the sound. There. The school bus, toppled onto its side, a hulking yellow mass in the white expanse, smoke curling from the vehicle's crumpled hood. A dozen tiny hands reached desperately through its windows.

Abe ran toward the bus, cursing at being side-tracked by the hellhound. Hadn't the ambushed bus been his reason for being here? He cursed again when he saw his two comrades distracted with their own canine assailants, panic twisting through his gut.

He didn't panic when the two crawlers burst through trees on his left, or when those truck-sized arachnids bounded toward the school bus. He didn't panic when one of them probed it with a massive leg and snapped at the vehicle's passengers. He simply pumped and aimed.

The shotgun screamed and the crawler's front right leg snapped in half. The giant arachnid roared in pain and it buckled forward, snow dusting its long neck. The creature regained its balance. Its companion attacked the bus in the first crawler's stead.

Abe ran to the side of the damaged vehicle. The injured crawler lumbered toward him. Abe ducked behind the bus as the crawler swept one of its uninjured legs toward him. The spike-tipped limb slammed into the vehicle's side with enough force to shake his teeth. Inside the bus the children screamed louder, and the second crawler tore the vehicle open. He pumped and fired.

Scarlet splattered against the yellow sides of the bus as the crawler collapsed, its almond-shaped head clanging against the vehicle's rear, loosing another scream from the children. Abe clambered to the opening the crawler had torn into the bus's side.

He reached for the shaken but unharmed passengers.

The vehicle shuddered. Abe tumbled into the snow. Crunching metal intermingled with the children's terrified cries as the bus turned on its axis. Scrambling to his feet, he saw the first, injured, crawler ramming the vehicle. The bus rocked, perilously close to being overturned, but slammed back to the ground. Abe sprinted toward the crawler, cocking his shotgun.

Something slammed into his back. He fell, snow stinging his face. Guttural growls filled his ears. The injured hellhound, blood trickling from the smoking flap of flesh that used to be its left ear, barked and leapt. Abe pulled the trigger. The hellhound’s body arced into the snow. Abe gasped in relief – and the crawler roared behind him. He faced the towering arachnid. Two of its uninjured front legs swiped from both directions. Abe dodged the blow from the left.

But the attack from the right met its mark. Red-hot pain sliced along his right shin. He grabbed the wound, realising, too late, the movement left him completely open. The crawler’s front legs poised for the kill.

The side of its face exploded.

The creature lumbered forward and Abe rolled out of the way. "Rag." He grinned at the sight of his fellow hunter. The younger man nodded, aimed his still-smoking rifle and fired. The creature slammed to the ground.

"You okay?" Rag asked.

"See to them." Abe indicated the school bus and Rag sprinted for it. Abe struggled to his feet - only to grunt in pain and fall. He winced at the sight of his gashed shin. "Pixy!" he called to his female teammate. "Med-kit!"

She joined him. “All right?”

"Fine, kiddo." He tried to smile. "How are you?"

Pixy chuckled, handing him the medical kit and indicating the smouldering hellhound corpses behind her. "Not bad. Need help?"

Abe tore bandages from the med-kit, glanced at the bus. "Help them."

Rag had extinguished the engine fire, and now perched atop the vehicle, evacuating the children. As Pixy ran to help, Abe kept close watch on the trees, ready to warn of further ambushes.

He tended the wound, checking the medical kit for painkillers. None. He punched the ground. Struggled to stand through the pain. It would have been an impossible task. But the trees rustled and four crawlers, humanoid face eaters atop each of the arachnid's backs, charged from the forest to surround the bus.

Abe ran for them, his injured shin forgotten in a cloud of rage. The hunter roared as he ran, shotgun a flashing blur of pump-action fire. One of the face eaters charged his crawler at the hunter. The weapon flared in Abe's grip. The crawler screeched, its left front leg now a bloody stump. A pump and a second later the payload of Abe's next blast ripped through the crawler's multi-eyed face.

The creature collapsed. Abe aimed at the face eater tumbling from its back.

Abe froze. His muscles contracted. His body stiffened. The face eater smiled and raised his right hand before him. Abe’s grip on the shotgun loosened...

It flew from his grasp.

And into the face eater's.

The freak laughed. Abe felt himself being lifted by the face eater's invisible grip. The snow-covered ground receded from his dangling feet. He glanced at the bus. His comrades had formed a barrier between the creatures and the kids.

Then he returned the face eater's stare.

Do it! Pull

The freak cocked the weapon, furrowed brow causing the shaved streaks of his hair to frame his icy gaze.

the

Streaks opened his mouth in a primordial roar.

TRIGGER!

Muzzle flash. Deafening bang. White-hot pain across his left shoulder. Air whipping past his head. Falling.

He hit the ground. Gasped. The face eater smirked, holding the weapon before him with one hand.

"Killing you with this? Too easy." He released the shotgun. It floated in mid-air, until the freak outstretched his fingers, telekinetically spinning the weapon straight for Abe's face. The hunter tossed back his head. Cold metal skimmed his chin and the shotgun smacked the ground, skittering to a halt behind him.

"Never was a fan of guns," Streaks continued, still grinning. "The old-fashioned way is much more fun." He strolled toward the prone hunter, that insufferable smirk still plastered across the creature's face. Abe smirked right back, clenching the hilt of his knife.

Gunshots. Screaming. Shouting.

Abe turned toward the bus. The three remaining crawlers assaulted the edges of Rag and Pixy's protective barrier while one of the arachnids' riders leapt into the small crowd of children. Abe tried to stand.

"No." Streaks opened his right hand. The hunter again felt the paralytic touch of the face eater's telekinesis.

Another shout. Abe saw his two comrades being hurled to the ground, the face eater holding a child under each arm...

He grunted as an invisible hand shoved him down, injured shoulder-first. Streaks cackled. Abe clutched his wounded shoulder, when the snow vibrated beneath his back. He glanced at the kids, saw the two surviving crawlers galloping toward him. No, not toward him. Toward Streaks.

"Later," the freak said. Abe held his stare as the face eater mounted a crawler. Then the hunter met the terrified, pleading eyes of the two children. A boy and a girl. They cried, they screamed, they pounded their captors. Abe scowled, stood, ignoring the sensory screams of pain from his wounded shin, listening only to the rage the freaks had reawakened in his soul. He slid the knife from its sheath and charged to carve out the freaks’ hearts--

An unseen hand sent him sprawling. Streaks laughed. The children screamed. One of the freaks signalled and the procession rushed toward the distant schoolhouse. Abe scowled again and felt a speck of cold on his scalp. He looked to the darkening sky. It had begun to snow.


TWO

"You look like hell," Rag said.

Abe smiled. "Been worse. Kids okay?"

"Shook up, but unhurt." Rag indicated the children huddled round the bus, enjoying its residual warmth. "Freaks got two of them - a boy and - "

"-a girl. I know." Abe lowered his head. Best not to dwell. That's what Lyana would say. He noticed the vehicle’s cracked, blood-splattered windscreen. "The driver?"

Rag looked at the ground. "Didn't make it." The younger hunter shook his head. "How’d the freaks topple that thing?"

"I don't think they did - a pack of hellhounds suddenly appearing in the middle of the road would make any driver swerve."

Rag nodded, then lifted his binoculars and peered at the schoolhouse ahead.

Abe looked at the shotgun by his side. At least the weapon was intact. The same could not be said for the hunter's body. He gazed at the blood he’d left in his wake as Rag and Pixy had half-walked, half-dragged him through the snow and nearer to the children. He shook his head. Then grunted at the pain surging from his left shoulder.

"It’s disinfectant." Pixy said, tending the wound. "It's supposed to sting.”

Abe looked at his injured shoulder, framed by the edge of his tattered and bloody shirt-sleeve. "At least there's no slug to remove." He touched the makeshift splint she’d applied to his right shin.

Rag nodded at the schoolhouse. "What about the captives?"

"Ideally, we should call for reinforcements."

"Weather’s interfering with our blasted radio." He looked at the children and the darkening sky. "We’ve got to get them home soon."

"Shouldn't take long," Pixy said. "The nearest village is about a mile away. We’ll use the road the bus would've taken."

"Good." Abe looked through his binoculars at the magnified image of the schoolhouse, a looming dark blur through the snowfall. The huge shapes lumbering before the building were presumably the crawlers. Maybe one face eater outside. He looked at the belfry, lamplight glowing softly against the sides of the arched structure.

"Anything interesting?" Rag asked.

"Guess they've a watchman in the belfry. It’s the best vantage point."

"Done." Pixy patted Abe’s bandaged shoulder wound and helped him into his jacket.

Rag shifted by Abe's side. "So, we taking these kids home or rescuing the other two?"

"Both," he said, earning confused looks from both Rag and Pixy. Abe nodded. "The kids need protection for the journey home. We can't call for backup for the captives..."

"So...?" Rag asked.

Abe smiled. "So I'll go."

His comrades gaped in disbelief. Pixy spoke first. "You're in no condition for a rescue mission."

"She's right." Rag frowned. "Come with us, we'll get those wounds properly treated, return with reinforcements..."

“No.” Abe exhaled. "You’ll get them home faster without me limping along. I’ll be fine on my own." He smiled with his eyes. "I'll bring them back."

"At least take the radio." Rag handed it over. "We'll contact you as soon as we get there, provided we can get a signal. But call if you need us."

"Provided I can get a signal." Abe smiled wryly. His comrades helped him to his feet. A dull ache throbbed through his shin, forcing him to limp. He'd make slow progress. Better than no progress.

Rag steadied Abe and reached inside his own coat. "Take this. Six rounds left." Rag passed him his automatic pistol. “But don’t do anything stupid." Rag grinned. "You're getting too old for this."

Abe chuckled as Rag jogged toward the children.

“Take care, Abe.” Pixy kissed his cheek. He smiled back as she too joined the children, before leading them - Rag covering the group's tail, rifle in hand - down the road. Some of the kids waved at Abe as they went. In a few minutes the procession had disappeared into the snowfall. He turned at what sounded like flapping leather. Unable to find the source of the sound, he faced the northward schoolhouse and walked.


THREE

He’d made good progress, already four hundred metres from the schoolhouse. The sky had only just darkened to the gloomy blue hues of evening.

Through the binoculars: three figures, wraithlike in the falling snow, in front of the schoolhouse. Two of the figures were huge shadows in the snowfall, the third smaller, appearing between flourishes of white. Both crawlers and one face eater.

If he kept his distance, the shotgun would make short work of the crawlers, but dealing with the face eater was trickier. With luck, this freak wouldn't have the same telekinetic prowess as Streaks - only a fraction of the sadistic creatures even possessed the ability. Still, best to draw him away before he could alert the others inside. Preferably while keeping his distance.

Abe looked at the radio and muttered, "Why not?" Any hunters within a few miles' radius would be able to reinforce him. "This is hunter Alpha Bravo Echo, in sector Bravo 3, requesting backup for a code 12 hostage situation, over. Repeat, a code 12 in sector Bravo 3."

Static.

He sighed but kept the radio on in case anyone did respond. "Fat chance." He stroked the shotgun. He was going to enjoy making these genetically engineered freaks suffer. It was because of the mutated hordes of the Scourge that Abe had made that foolish mistake years ago, and now Lyana was....

He bowed his head, fighting tears. Use it! He gritted his teeth, sorrow fanning flames of rage. Better. His grimace twisted into a smile that marched him toward the creatures, to fight and maim and slay....

"Don't move," the radio crackled to life. Loudly. Ahead, the face eater snapped toward him. Abe dropped into the snow.

"Great timing." He scowled at the radio. "Who is this?"

"Call me Nexus," the male voice replied. "I'm very nearby. Just don't move."

Abe tightened his grip on the shotgun. The face eater approached his position. He cursed again.

"I’ll deal with that face eater," Nexus said. "Then you can make a run for it."

"And the crawlers?"

"That’s up to you. I do not kill."

"What kind of hunter are you?"

"I’m no hunter," Nexus replied. "But we’re on the same side."

"Evidently," Abe said. The freak seemed to have heard, for he spun to face the hunter's position. Abe cringed and whispered, "Can you help with the hostages, Nexus?"

"That would inevitably involve killing," Nexus said. "But do not fear for the hostages' lives - the face eaters can only feed on adults. The children are bait."

"How do you know all this?" The question remained unanswered - the face eater headed directly toward him. The hunter aimed his weapon, finger on the trigger.

A gust blew a wall of white between them. Abe squinted - all he could make out was a shadowy form rushing toward the freak. He slowly squeezed the trigger....

Another gust. Stronger. Closer. He glanced around as the sound of flapping leather once again filled his ears. Air blasted overhead. A scream. Ahead, the face eater thrashed. And then the freak rose, toward the shadow above him, and disappeared into the swirling white. Nexus' voice: "Go, now!"

The snow momentarily cleared, revealed the path ahead, the two crawlers respectively lumbering to the left and right. Abe ran, even as the snow whipped his world into a white void. He focused on his hearing; the crunches of snow underfoot, the roaring crawlers ahead. Keep going. The roars grew louder. Two hundred metres now. Come on. Pain ebbed up his right shin, but he ignored it, because he was almost there, one hundred metres now--

Something slammed into his right thigh. He tumbled, glimpsing a long, brown appendage. One of the crawlers' legs. He sprang to his feet, ran for the school, ignoring the roars behind him, the sudden quick crunch of eight limbs in snow.

His foot caught on something. He slipped and fell on his hands, but the momentum slid him along the ground, his body twisting. Something cracked against his injured shin. He cried out, coming to a halt. His makeshift splint lay scattered around a rock jutting from the snow. He stood, teeth gritted against the pain. The crawler lunged out of the whiteness. Abe threw himself backwards as the creature snapped inches from his face. He managed to shoot before he hit the ground. The crawler’s nearest shoulder crumbled in a brown-crimson puff.

The hunter grinned. Shot its head. Its skull snapped backward into the whiteness. He thought he heard its death cry.

It was actually the roar of its partner. The second crawler charged out of the white infinity, forelimbs swinging. Abe aimed the shotgun--

One of the crawlers' legs sliced through the weapon, and with a crunch and a clang, the shotgun dropped in two pieces. The creature lunged, and Abe ducked, the crawler sailing over him. Once it realised, it slid to a halt, its stomach above the hunter's face. Abe wasted no time. Tearing the knife from its sheath, he stabbed straight upwards.

The crawler bellowed. Abe rolled between its thrashing limbs. The crawler knelt on its forelimbs, head and upper back inches from the blood-splattered snow. He sprinted toward the crawler, screaming as the pain in his shin intensified, and leapt onto its back.

The creature roared, rearing up to throw him off. Abe locked his arm round the freak's spindly neck. Unable to lose its assailant, it galloped forward. The shadow of the schoolhouse loomed through the snow, only a few feet away. He slashed the crawler’s throat. The creature lunged forward, sliding on the snow. Abe held on as the crawler hurtled toward the schoolhouse. The creature hit the wall. Abe’s grip tore from the crawler's neck as it buckled, catapulting him through a ground floor window.

He tried not to scream as pain slashed through him.

FOUR

He lay very still. His vision gradually focused - his right arm splayed across wood panelling, blood meandering between glass shards and dropped knife. He moved his head. His left temple brushed along the floor and stung. Cuts marked his fists. A scratch on his right hand bled toward his wrist. His arms seemed okay, protected by his jacket, though a tear snaked around the left sleeve. No pain from any limbs. But his face stung down the left side. He felt a scratch on his cheek and a slash along his left temple. He stopped touching it. His fingers glistened with crimson.

He cursed and tore off a portion of his damaged sleeve. Head wounds, no matter how trivial, tended to bleed profusely. He tied the rag around his head, looked at his bleeding right hand, shrugged, and tore off another strip.

Bandaging the wound, he regarded the ruined window. Pieces of jagged glass remained in the frame's corners, but the majority was scattered across the floor nearby. Through the hole, wind whipped sleet inside. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, the window wasn't broken. On the floor, where once there were hundreds of fragments, now five chunks lay.

"What the hell?" He picked up his blade and heard a peal of girlish laughter.

"Oh Daud, you've broken a squirrel," a familiar voice chastised playfully. Abe bumped a small oak table decorated with squirrel ornaments. In an armchair at the end of the classroom now transformed into their old home sat Lyana.

Abe's eyes watered. She was here, beautiful like he remembered, calling him by his real name not his code, and they were home....

Abe limped toward her. "Lyana." Her name prompted fresh tears.

"What's wrong, Daud?"

"I’ve missed you." His heart leapt at her warm responding smile. He reached for her, to embrace her, to feel her lips on his, to reassure himself of this miracle....

Lyana screamed.

He knew what he'd see before he opened his eyes. It haunted his nightmares since that day. And now it was happening again. The freak held her throat, his eyes glowering under thick brows, the skin on his bald head bunched tight enough to reveal a pulsing vein.

"Daud!" Lyana shrieked. The face eater grinned, canines and incisors extending.

Abe reached for the automatic Rag had given him. Stopped. It was happening exactly as before, including the freak's surprise appearance. But he could change it --

"Daud!" Lyana screamed between sobs. "Help me!"

He aimed at the face eater's head. I'll do it right. Abe started to squeeze the trigger...

And froze. Not again, I can't, I won't. The face eater laughed louder, squeezed her throat harder, caused her eyes to bulge, her screams to stop. Abe's breath was shallow as he lowered the gun, because there were other ways...

The face eater's laughter built to an insane crescendo as he squeezed so hard that Abe heard a wet snap. Lyana's arms dropped to her sides. Her eyes rolled in their sockets to fix Abe in an eternal stare.

She should live, I didn't shoot! He glared at the face eater, who frowned, tossed Lyana's limp form onto the armchair and stared at him.

"You're no fun." The freak’s voice was uglier than his face. In Abe’s face burned rage, fury at himself, the face eater, at every soldier of the Scourge as he snapped his weapon up and pulled the trigger .

The side of the face eater's right arm sprayed crimson. The freak cried out and fell to his knees. He chuckled. Grinned at Abe. "He wants to play." The freak stood and nudged Lyana's inert form. She seemed to move. Abe wiped the tears blurring his vision - Lyana was moving. Giggling. She sat up in the armchair and said in a voice that wasn't hers, "Enough fun and games. Finish him, Roach, I'm starving."

"Me too." The face eater charged. The hunter shot again , but the plume of automatic gunfire missed. Roach twisted Abe’s arm, sending the gun clattering across the floor, then lifted him by his collar.

"Happy landings!" Roach threw him across the room. Abe screamed as his back and injured shoulder crashed through something hard. From the floor, he saw the ruins of the wooden desk and chair, a blackboard.

The room had returned to its true form, with its rows of desks and large broken window at the far end.

He scowled. How could he have fallen for the face eaters' psychic illusion? He knew the extent of their powers, their sadistic tendencies. Of course they'd try something like this. Roach paced forward, huge muscles flexing. Abe felt around for a weapon. Touched something wet. A woman's corpse and bloody jacket, her face a ripped crimson maw. He lowered his eyes, silently mourning the murdered teacher. Then he glared at her killers - Roach almost upon him, the woman who wasn't Lyana reclining.

"She was a tasty one." Roach glanced at the corpse.

Abe seized a severed chair leg and stood, wincing at the pain pulsing from wounded shoulder and injured shin.

“Didn't struggle much." The freak licked his lips. "But I like a little roughhouse."

“Then you’ll love this.” Abe swung the chair leg, heard a satisfying wet crack as the freak's nose gushed crimson, and cracked the leg against Roach’s scalp. Wood splintered. Blood spurted.

Roach grinned. “That’s it?” His fist rushed toward Abe’s jaw.

Abe’s head snapped backward. He staggered. His jaw hadn't broken, but dark spidery fingers crept from the corners of his vision. He spat blood. "Bring it."

Roach howled approval, barged his shoulder into Abe’s stomach to crumple him over his back and toss him into a desk. Abe covered his face as he smashed through the table. Roach hoisted him over his shoulders.

Abe locked his arms round the freak's neck. Roach gagged, staggering. Abe tightened his grip. He squeezed harder when he realised Roach was running backwards, straight toward the wall. Come on. The wall was mere feet away. Come on! His biceps taut, he squeezed and pulled.

With a wet snap, Roach stopped struggling. Momentum kept him moving. Abe wrenched his arms free, rolled away. Roach’s corpse smashed into the wall. Abe’s breath came in pained gasps as he retrieved his gun. Aimed at the woman who wasn’t Lyana.

"You can't do it," she said. "Killing me is killing her."

"It was an accident."

Her illusionary appearance flickered, revealing her true, dishevelled form, teeth elongated and ready for feeding. But the illusion returned, and he stared back into Lyana's eyes. Abe said, "I aimed for the freak. I didn't mean to..."

"And it wasn't just her life you took." She stroked her belly. "Was it?"

"No," he replied through gritted teeth. "It wasn’t." He pulled the trigger.


FIVE

He limped up the stairs, drawing closer to the children's whimpering as he reached the landing.

"Man," Streaks said from inside the belfry, "you look like hell." He stood with the large, glassless, arched window on his right, resting his hands on the two tearful children's shoulders. "Took care of my buddies downstairs, huh?" The freak shrugged. "All the more for me."

Abe stepped through the doorway, aiming his weapon. "Let them go."

Streaks opened his palm. "Fetch." The boy froze and floated toward Abe via the freak’s telekinesis. Abe reached for him with his left hand.

His right arm stiffened. Rose. Pointed the gun at the boy.

Abe cursed. More telekinesis. Streaks made Abe’s finger tighten on the trigger.

The boy drew closer, terrified.

Abe punched his paralysed right wrist with his left hand. Stopped. His entire left side was unaffected.

The boy sobbed, a foot away. Abe met the freak’s stare as his own finger involuntarily pulled.

Abe grabbed the boy with his left hand and tugged as the trigger clicked, bullet puncturing the wall where the kid had been.

He set the crying but uninjured child down, glared at Streaks, who grinned, and flicked his wrist to telekinetically wrench the hunter to him, right arm-first. Abe’s throat slipped into the freak’s waiting grasp. As Streaks drew him close, Abe’s right hand set the gun’s barrel against his own temple.

Streaks cocked his head. “Any last words?”

“You missed my left side.” Abe drove his left knee into the freak’s groin.

Streaks crumpled, telekinetically shunting Abe across the room. His head smacked the floor. The gun fired, perforating the ceiling. Through blurred vision, he saw Streaks kneeling in pain by the window as the girl ran to the boy.

Abe grinned at the freak. “Telekinesis running out of juice?” He stood. “You need to feed, don’t you?” Aimed at Streaks. “Eat this.”

Streaks launched himself at the hunter, who fired . Missed. Streaks drove his fist into Abe’s stomach and his forehead into the bridge of Abe’s nose. Abe’s vision clouded. He stumbled backwards, body twisting as he slowly spun.

Streaks' voice echoed in the blackness, "I wasn't born this way, you know. I was turned."

Abe fell, but felt little pain. He heard only the echoes of the freak's voice, the children crying...

He saw Lyana's beautiful face, crimson streaming down her forehead, and he felt the rage again. He opened his eyes; the darkness receded. The window was at his feet. Streaks sat on his upper chest, pinning him, and pulled the gun from Abe’s grip. "It's not too late to join us," Streaks said. The hunter gazed at his pinned arm, waited until Streaks was looking too.

Then he clenched all but his middle finger and grinned his bloody grin. Streaks aimed at Abe’s eye. "Pity.” Squeezed the trigger. "You'd have been useful."

Click.

Streaks' eyes widened.

Already used my six shots, freak. Abe shoved him off, unsheathed his knife and sank it into Streaks' heart. "Never were a fan of guns," Abe said coldly. "Were you?"

Streaks gasped. Stumbled toward the arched window, gazing at the girl. He smiled, hand outstretched.

The girl flew screaming into his grasp.

"No!" Abe bounded toward them as they fell, the face eater disappearing into the white void. The hunter grabbed the frame with his left hand and the falling girl with his right. But his hold on the frame loosened by the second. Tears streaked the girl’s cheeks as her feet dangled into the whiteness. She screamed and slipped, hung from his fingers. His makeshift bandage ripped as the girl clawed her way up.

The bandage tore again. Came away completely and flapped into the whiteness.

The girl's grip went with it.

She fell screaming into the blustering white oblivion, Abe screaming with her, for her, his eyes clenched shut, his heart plunging in despair.

Wind buffeted into his face.

Opening his eyes, he pulled himself into the belfry as a dark shape flew past his vision. He crawled backwards as the humanoid figure hovered toward the window, the girl in its arms, its giant bat-like wings flapping as leather in the wind. It set the child down inside the belfry then regarded Abe, patted the radio at its waist, and smiled.

"Nexus..." Abe gasped as the creature saluted, soaring into the whipping snow. The hunter shook his head and the children wrapped their arms round him.

Nexus… Freak or something else entirely, the creature was an angel.

Eventually the snow cleared. "Abe, come in," a voice crackled over the radio. "It's Rag."

Abe smiled wryly. "How are you?"

“Never better.” Rag laughed. “Lots of happy parents at the village. We're on our way now, with reinforcements."

"Won't need them," Abe said. "We'll be waiting outside." He flicked the radio off and smiled despite his aching shoulder, broken nose and painful shin. Rag had been right. He was getting too old for this.

Bump...

Get reading and voting folks!

format_quote Originally Posted by Insaanah

Bump...

Get reading and voting folks!

............................

This is the last weekend to vote! Those that haven't yet, please read and vote.

Bump.......

Just under 22 hours before the poll closes! Please read and vote if you haven't already done so.

Eight and a half hours to go! C'mon folks! These stories have been written especially for IB members, by two members. Please take the time to read and vote, if you havent already done so.

The poll is closed and result has now been announced here: http://www.islamicboard.com/creative...ml#post2876463 and this thread will therefore now be closed.

All further discussion to take place in the other thread.

Jazaakumullaahu khayr again to both participants for such varied yet interesting stories.