The Awakening: The Truth about Order series, Book One.(Part 1, En Garde)

"3..." (Part 1/2)

Fawlk’s blood was slowly coming down from a boiling to a sizzling temperature as he walked slowly across the vast concrete floor of the warehouse. Paying special attention towards avoiding the cracks, craters and holes that scattered across the expanse, he made his way towards his target across the room. He stepped gingerly over the first body, who lay face down in a pool of blood that had just stopped growing. The arm had very clearly been grotesquely broken during the struggle and the neck bore a fresh laceration which had been fueling the pool just a minute before; the mass became a lifeless heap of plated white armor and flesh only seconds later. Just beyond was what Fawlk was looking for: a second body on its back. The body looked like it had been pressed into the concrete slightly, cracks crawled outwards like a spider web from the origin of impact. Fawlk stopped at the body and squat down on his haunches next to it, grabbing the wrist closest to him and checking for a pulse for several seconds. Dropping the arm he looked over his shoulder and called back into the dim vastness.

            “This one’s still alive.”

            “The masta’?” Zack’s voice called back. Fawlk looked back at the man, noticing the chest barely rising and falling under his white hoodie. More accurately, the formerly white hoodie; it was covered in splashes of blood and torn in several places.

            “Yes.”

            “Oh ‘onderful!” Zack trotted over next to Fawlk, who remained squatting. “Wake ‘im up.” Zack ordered. There was a sharp pinch in the back of Fawlk’s neck and he reached down to lightly slap the man’s cheeks. He started to come to, his one eye struggling to open while the other remained closed. Zack squatted down next to the man’s head, the bottom of his trench coat sprawling out across the floor.

            “Can you ‘ear me?” Zack started, cocking his head to the side with the question. The broken body stayed motionless, but the man opened his lips to respond. A generous helping of thick red froth dribbled out the corner of his lips before he could speak.

            “No.” He managed, a weak smile flashing across his mouth. Fawlk cringed, instantly knowing how Zack would react to such a defiant answer.

            “Listen closely to me,” Zack sneered, not amused in the slightest, “there’s s’pposed to be two o’ you ‘ere. There’re two cars ou’side, and you’re the only one I find ‘n this buildin’? Things don’ quite add up t’ me. Tell me where your friend is hidin’ an’ maybe I won’ make your las’ nigh’ alive so agonizin’.”

            The man’s one eyed gaze looked over at Fawlk briefly, then rolled back to Zack. “Gone.”

            Without warning, Zack’s arm shot out and he wrapped his hand around the man’s throat, squeezing gently. “Listen ‘ere you little shit.” He spat, “You lost! It’s over! Tell me where ‘e wen’ before I tear you apar’!”

            The man’s one eye widened as he struggled to breathe. Zack loosened his grip a little to let him speak. More bloody foam leaked out from between his lips as he replied.

“Okay” Was all he could manage, barely audible. Zack leaned in closer to hear. “I just,” started the man on the ground, “forgot.” He made a sick, hiccup noise from his attempt at laughing afterwards. A small amount of blood sprayed from his mouth and his body contorted in a twisted way as it tried to gather enough air to manage laughter. The expression that worked its way across his face told Fawlk the whole experience was far from pleasant. Zack stood up slowly, visibly holding in his rage. He looked long and hard down at the man, then shot a glance over at Fawlk.