The cold doors of the lockers slam open, as a hand sweeps through to grab whatever.
He shifts and makes room in his backpack, sorting through each thing methodically.
Everything in the way he wants it: as controlled as he wants it.
He drops down, rolling upon making contact with the soft snow.
Quickly driving the crafted knife into the scavenger's neck, he slips it across.
It makes an awful squelching sound.
He makes special care to cut into the jugular, this time.
The throwing knives slit through the air, piercing two scavengers occiputs.
He mutters a prayer, chambering his gun. Lightly treading over to the bodies, scavenging through their belongings, extracting what little is needed, like always.
"..." He glances over at his agent device. A beeping slowly rings, the time left rapidly fluctuating.
Gripping the rosary around his neck, his eyes fall on the corpses.
It used to be sickening, but now, it's like watching the leaves fall.
With this little bit of his humanity left, sacrificing so many lives for his own,
he wonders.
Can he really justify his actions, with just a simple prayer and heartfelt guilt?
...
He gently shuts the safe zone's large sliding doors shortly locking them, before checking back in on the boards in the side room. They seem as if they'll hold up fine for a while.
His arm settles on the floor, as he slowly shifts his weight onto it, laying his back against the container.
The night continues on silently, as the sound of fighting ensues onward, the blistering storm raging through the night.
Persistent thoughts rush through his head,
and he takes careful care to only answer to those he's sure he can.
He will leave the rest to fester: so he can come back and find the words for them at a later date.
His eyelids slowly shut as he takes deep breaths in and out.
The answer he's come to is as follows:
He'll do his heartfelt best to retain that humanity, making as honest an effort as he can.
He'll prepare. Prepare endlessly for the eternal winter, regardless of what he can muster.
Even if something slips through the cracks, he'll deal with it, as he always has.
What's important is that he won't falter. Not even in the slightest.
The frozen steel around his neck feels warmer than ever,
persistently lighting his way in the cold, cold dark.
YOU ARE READING
Perforating Cold
AcciónSeven agents. All of different personalities, pasts and futures. Fifteen nights until doomsday, death and plague following their steps. One by one, they'll find their own reasons to fight onward, and keep on living.
