The Salvation

Chapter 4

|Malcolm|

"We're best off setting up camp here, before nightfall." Andrew advised. The road had been long, and broken. Initially they'd been following the road they knew led to Gateway City, the largest and newest developing city in Colorado. But when the road was replaced with cracked brown ground and no more road, then they found the journey difficult. "I'm still uncertain about the winds howls. Likely we won't get too far tonight."

Malcolm scratched his neck raw, the air making him itch. He had the scarring of an old wound from his military days and whenever the wind blew with its loathing howl, his scar would itch. He dropped his pack on the ground the knelt, pulling out his bottle of whiskey. Only a few sips left. Malcolm twisted the lid off and took a swig, leaving just enough for another day.

"I don't wanna stop Andrew. We've been walking for three days and still haven't found the city!" Felicia argued, her voice as tired as Malcolm's eyes. "It should be here, or we should've at least found it!" Along the way, and even now all around them, they'd come across only rubble and debris.

"We need to rest, we walked all last night and the night before we only stopped for an hour," Andrew said, "I'm tired."

"And you don't think Malcolm and I are tired? You don't think Shale is tired? We're all tired Andrew, but it's not safe to keep stopping!" Felicia argued.

"It's also not safe to keep wal-" Malcolm stepped in front of Andrew, cutting him off.

Malcolm raised his hands in between the two and pushed them apart. "You're both right. Yes, we need to keep going. Yes, we need to rest. But what we don't need is to argue." Malcolm said sternly. "We'll stop for two hours, no more."

"And keep going in the pitch black? I can't see when it gets dark, not with the moon hiding behind these endless fucking clouds!"

"Andrew we've been walking in the dark for three days and three nights, you can handle it." Malcolm spat. "It's always darker now, we'll just have to adapt." And with that, he left the two.

Malcolm was tired. Tired of Kersti and Joshua's cries, tired of Shale's constant paranoid barking at every shadow and tired of Andrew and Felicia's almost constant bickering. He sat down on a large piece of metal (which he assumed was the wing of a plane) and took in a deep breath. The air was filthy, polluted and distasteful. But it brought back memories. Times from before all this. Malcolm closed his eyes and let his mind swim. If they didn't find the city soon, they'd have no choice but to turn back. They were low on food and water. They couldn't find any animals or plants that lived and the only water they'd found was a small puddle with too little to sustain a fly. Malcolm laid back on the wrecked metal and relaxed his muscles.

Maybe when I wake up this will all have just been a dream... Maybe... Malcolm shoved his thoughts of survival aside and tried to clear his mind. But the thoughts, the memories, wouldn't leave. They stayed. They always stayed. When he was lonely, they provided company. When he was happy, they dampened his mood. When he was angry, they gave him a reason to be. And when he was drunk, they made him sober. Malcolm hated them. They never left him alone. He'd always wondered if Andrew was stuck with the memories, or his other ex-squad members. But they haunted him like a vengeful ghost. All the people you killed. All the families you destroyed. All the children you tore away from parents.

Malcolm opened his eyes to a black sky with no moon. All the wreckage around him had gone and he was on the cold ground. Malcolm climbed to his feet and looked around, but it was black. There was nothing but black. The mess of his new home was gone, but the tranquility of his old home hadn't returned. He began to run. Malcolm ran for what could've been days, but he got nowhere. All he could hear was her voice, giving him commands. You have to kill the child Malcolm.

"No! I won't do this anymore!" Malcolm shouted, but barely any sound escaped his mouth. "I won't be your puppet!"

It's your job Malcolm. You have to kill the child. The voice insisted. Malcolm memorised her voice, the croaky voice of the woman who gave the commands. Andrew remembered her voice, they all did. Whenever a new objective was ready it was her voice that gave the command. Deborah Fisher. You have to kill the child Malcolm, it's what you signed up for.

"You can't make me!" Malcolm shouted.

Terminate. The voice halted. The wind picked up, whirling around Malcolm violently and howling. The voice repeated itself like a broken record. Terminate. Terminate. Terminate. From the blackness came her officers, the elite men she selected herself to guard her and carry out her most serious commands. Twenty men in onyx black gear with onyx black bullet proof vests and onyx black gas masks covering their faces with onyx black helmets behind them aimed their onyx black assault rifles at Malcolm. Her voice stopped only for a moment. Malcolm looked all around him. He had no weapons, no way out. Then she started again. Terminate. All the men opened fire.

Malcolm woke up, sweaty and gasping for air. He quickly looked around him. The sky wasn't black, but cloudy and dark and all around him was the litters of the waste he now lived in. Malcolm felt the hard metal wreck beneath him. It's just a dream. He told himself. He kept telling himself. Whenever she would come to him in his dreams with new orders, he woke up and told himself it was just a dream. She said I'm done, I'll never need to do her tasks again. Malcolm made sure to remind himself every chance he got.

Malcolm climbed off the uncomfortable wreck and picked up his pack, walking back over to where Andrew and Felicia had made their camp. They didn't bring much, a blanket for the ground and a sheet to cover themselves with as a make shift tent. Andrew, Felicia, Kersti and Joshua were both asleep all snuggled together, but Shale laid at their feet with his head held high, watching all. Malcolm reached into his pack and pulled out a small piece of stale bread, tossing it to the hound. Shale caught it mid air and devoured it.

Malcolm looked around him, sharing in Shale's paranoia. Someone was watching them. Or something. Malcolm gulped and reached into his waistband, gripping the handgun he carried. They would be easy prey to whatever was watching them, but they weren't moving yet. Malcolm made note of Shale's actions, when he began to become defensive and look around Malcolm could tell he thought something was nearby. But it wasn't until Shale began to growl that Malcolm became worried. It was useful having a dog that didn't run off in times like this. Malcolm only hoped they were being followed by another rabid dog, they were easily taken care of.