Hunting Wolfe

Altair

"His name is Altair." As the words escape my lips, an almost palpable tension envelops the room, thick and suffocating, as if a bomb has detonated in our midst. The atmosphere grows heavy, a suffocating silence that speaks louder than any words could. Up ahead, a looming dead end, dark and unyielding, awaits us.

Without uttering a single word, Caydon steps forward, his movements deliberate and cautious. He extends his hand into the small, inconspicuous hole in the wall and presses the hidden button. The wall responds with a low, guttural rumble, the sound of stone scraping stone, slowly shifting aside and releasing a cloud of ancient, undisturbed dust that dances in the dim light. We step through the newly revealed passageway, the wall beginning to slide shut behind us with a final, almost reluctant groan. It's only then, in the narrow corridor's uneasy silence, that someone finally breaks the silence.

"Altair?" Aceon's voice is a cautious probe, laden with curiosity and trepidation.

"The situation is more dire than we imagined," Caydon's tone is grave, each word carrying a weight that pulls at the reality of our predicament.

"Why? What's the big deal? He seemed like a good man," I challenge, my mind unable to reconcile the gravity of the moment with the image I hold of Altair.

"Looks can be deceiving," Caydon replies, his eyes fixed on some distant, unseen point, as if staring into the very essence of that deception.

"What did he say to you?" Aceon presses, his voice a whisper threaded with urgent need for understanding.

"Nothing much. He just asked if I remembered him."

"And do you?" Aceon inquires, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Yes and no," I respond, my mind swirling with fragmented memories, some tinged with warmth and others shrouded in darkness. "I have a head full of jumbled memories, some good and some not. I'm honestly not sure what I know. And when I told him this, he seemed angry."

"You told him?" Aceon's tone sharpens.

"Yes, was I not supposed to?" I ask, my voice tinged with confusion. Aceon sighs deeply, his frustration evident. "Ace? What's going on?" I press, searching his eyes for answers.

"Nothing," he replies curtly. "Let's just focus on getting out of here, alive."

"Ace?" I question again, desperation seeping into my voice.

"Later," he mutters, taking the lead with determined strides.

Caydon, falls behind, gently nudging me forward, urging me to follow behind Aceon.

As we reach the ladder described by the soldier, I realize that I haven't heard the sounds of shooting or felt the ground quake from small explosions, in a long time. I bring that fact up as Aceon begins the ascent up. Aceon has refused to say anything else to me since my revelation of our captors. I don't understand what his problem is. Why is he so angry at me? What have I done?