Into the Wreckage ▸ Scott McCall (3)

xix. BONES OF BEFORE

xix. BONES OF BEFORE

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It was the throbbing in Foster's head that finally brought her to.

She wasn't entirely certain how long she was out for, but she knew that it must have been a while. The first thing she noticed - before even opening her eyes - was that she was freezing. Her teeth were chattering as it was, and goosebumps ran along her arms and legs. Along with that, the ground beneath her was uneven and hard. Parts of it shot up, and when she tried to roll over slightly, she felt bits of the ground move from beneath her.

This, of course, had her eyes snapping open, and Foster shot up. As soon as she did so, she was met with a nearly black vision. She could hardly see anything, but when Foster looked down at the floor beneath her, she saw that for however long she was out, she was out on top of a pile of bones.

Unable to help it, Foster screamed in horror.

She scrambled to get onto her feet, almost falling over in the process as she tried to back away from the bones, but was unable to. There was everything someone could think of. Rib cages, arms, fingers,  toes, legs, and skulls. Pelvises, patellas, collar bones. 

All of these people. . . all of these dead people.

She was asleep on their bones.

Trembling, Foster found herself itching her skin harshly. Almost as if she was trying to get the shame off of her. As if she scratched it all away, it would be like she never was just another body scattered around those of the dead.

Were all of those people trapped down here too? Did they all die down here? Was Foster left down here to die, too?

Foster was aware that from what Kate said, she was in La Iglesia. At least, she presumed so. And now Foster was glancing around in a panic, wondering where Scott was. Where was he? Was he with Kate? And more importantly, what did she plan to do with him?

As she glanced around, Foster could see that she was alone in a small cellar. Above her, there was a hole in the ceiling, and she watched as a shadow seemed to pass over it, accompanied with the deep, menacing growl of a Berserker. 

Gods, this place must be crawling with them.

As Foster tried to create more distance between herself and the bones, she found herself approached a gate, one that must have kept all of the others locked in here. People like her. Her fingers wrapped around the metal bars, and in all honesty, Foster couldn't see much farther down the black hallway.

Foster tried to push it open, grunting in exertion as she put all of her strength into it. It wouldn't budge. Not one bit. 

"Scott," she called, wondering if maybe he was closer to her than she thought. She just needed to hear his voice, to know that he was okay. "Scott? Scott! Scott!"

But there was no answer, and Foster had a feeling that she may never get one.

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Foster wasn't certain when she fell under an unconscious spell again, but this time when she woke up, she felt a little less terrified. Now aware of the decayed bodies around her, Foster didn't feel the same sense of horror when she saw herself lying amongst them.

The blonde went through the same motions as before, immediately wondering where Scott was. She wondered if he was okay. If he wasn't, she wouldn't be able to carry on. It would have been all of her fault. If something happened to him because of her, she wouldn't be able to live with herself.