Discoveries | TMR | Three

4:2

Everything unfolded in a blur, leaving Alby no chance to fully grasp the chaos around him.

The door swings open, and a Crank bursts forth from the shadows of the room. It lets out a chilling shriek and lunges at him with such ferocity that he can't help but yelp in surprise. Alarmed, he stumbles backward, desperately trying to create distance while fumbling to free his knife from its sheath.

In the midst of his frantic retreat, his heel catches on a forgotten dog toy, sending him crashing to the ground in a graceless tumble. He hits the floor with a jarring thud, the impact reverberating through his spine, but there's no moment to collect himself as the creature leaps onto him, gnashing its teeth and clawing at his face. He forces his forearm against its neck, struggling to keep it at bay while twisting his head and jutting out his chin to evade its grasp.

The Crank bears down on him, its eyes wide with a wild mix of desperation and hunger. Alby shuts his eyes tight, feeling his arm grow weary as he braces for the inevitable pain that will come when his strength finally gives out.

It inches closer to his face, its decayed brown teeth dripping with hot saliva, the snarls hitting him with such force that he can almost feel his cheek contorting under the impact; sand rolling beneath ocean waves. Desperately, his feet kick against the cold ceramic, seeking any grip that might allow him a shot at escape, while his free hand fumbles for the knife that has slipped from its holster.

A cacophony of sounds rushes into his ears - a crack, a snap, a squelch, followed by a final, ragged screech from the Crank as its body collapses heavily on top of him. With great reluctance, Alby forces his eyes open, only to find a lifeless Crank sprawled across him, Adeline's pickaxe embedded in its skull.

Then, he sees her foot come crashing into view, using it to shove the Crank's body off him before yanking her weapon free. Alby clutches his stomach, erupting into a fit of coughs and gasps as Adeline staggers toward him. "Are you okay?" she asks, bending slightly, her right hand resting on her knee for support.

Alby takes a second to answer. "Yeah." But he eventually does, with his eyes darting between the young woman and dead Crank. "You?"

"Yeah," Adeline assures through slightly wavered breaths. "Sorry it took so long to get to you," she then mumbles, "I was halfway across the strip before I realised you weren't there."

"It's fine." He has not yet tried to stand; his brain still trying to catch up, though he does notice the way she begins to gently caress her ribcage. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yea, I'm good." She nods. "Just got a stitch in my side."

A breathy chuckle escapes him. "You're pretty unfit for someone who's spent their whole life running," he quips, and he hears her mirror the same sound he just made.

"Least I didn't fall on my arse."

Alby grins, and hums in amusement. "I could've handled it."

"Yea," Adeline scoffs. "That's why you jumped ten feet in the air when it came at you."

"Thought you were halfway across the strip when it came at me?"

"I was, but I'm still right, aren't I?"

Alby nods his head in defeat. "Yea, you are."

He observes her confidently approach the lifeless Crank, methodically cleaning the blood from her pickaxe onto its grimy clothing. With a swift motion, she secures the weapon in her belt loop and strides toward him, her hand outstretched in invitation. Without a moment's pause, he grasps her hand, and she pulls him upright before releasing him to scan their surroundings. "We need to move," she urges. "Your little stunt has probably attracted more Cranks."