The Rift: King and Country

Act 1: Awakening

"Hey!" A voice called through the blinding white. "Get up! We need to move!"

Samuel Ryan King bolted upright as the light in his sight began to clear, clutching at his chest in pain. He could barely breathe through the intense pressure, like someone was pressing on him with a truck. He felt cold hands grab his shoulder and went to push them away, but whoever the person was, they were much stronger than he. The woman; he could hear her yelling something at him through the ringing in his ears; tugged him to his feet and pulled him with her, causing him to stumble forward. His hands hit dry dirt for a moment before he was drug back up and shoved again. This time he managed to keep his footing, and with the image of desert rocks and the impression of a near-vertical cliff face resolving in his vision, he decided to take his chances and get as far away from his this lady as possible.

But by breaking into a flat-out sprint, all he managed to do was put his fatigued body in more pain that it already was. Within seconds, his vision tunnelled and he collapsed like a sack of potatoes, nearly getting run over by the woman chasing after him. He heard her bellow a curse he didn't recognize, then heard something he couldn't quite understand; rapid tapping noises and a piercing screech that sounded not unlike the squealing of car tires, followed by the sound of automatic gunfire and something heavy hitting the ground behind him.

Lying face-down in the dust where he had fallen, Sam was flipped onto his back and got a good look at the woman for the first time. A thin metal fabric coated her frame, pieces of futuristic metal armor protected the vital parts of her body, and a heavy military pack was bolted to her backplate. Her face was hidden behind a mirrored visor, in which Sam could just make out his own terrified expression. He tried to fight her, but she pinned his arms across his chest and drew a thin cylindrical tube, pushing down on a lever to reveal a short needle then jamming the syringe into the pit of his elbow. Almost instantly, the pressure released from his chest, his vision sharpened into focus, and the ringing in his ears faded to nonexistence.

As she let go of him and fell to the ground, her chest rising and falling quickly with exertion, Sam scrambled to his feet, patting his body as if he thought he had lost something. He grabbed his left arm just below the elbow and looked at it, shakily tracing the point where skin met carbon fiber and metal, ensuring that his practically-brand-new prosthetic arm was still working. The dark gray replacement hand clenched into a fist, then unclenched, and he nodded, satisfied.

Now that he knew he was okay, Sam went to turn back to the woman, but a massive sandy-gray body lying dead in the dust caught his attention. Words couldn't accurately describe the beast, but at the very least it could be said that it had six legs, coarse spider-like fur, twin bladed appendages, three- or was that five?- backswept tentacles, and electronic parts sticking out of its body in several places. He stared at the alien creature and the syrup-consistency blood oozing from it for a moment before his body caught up with his brain telling him to run away and never look back, then he stumbled backwards and fell to the ground again.

"What the fuck?!" He said loudly from his seated position.

Beside him, the woman had risen to her feet and removed her helmet, looking around at her environment in confusion. She had a round, tanned face, shoulder-length brunette hair tied in a ponytail, and piercing green eyes that darted about as she assessed her surroundings. Her gaze locked on Sam's, and for a brief second they remained where they were. Then, as if something had stepped between them, they both snapped back to reality, Sam scrambling to his feet and the woman quickly stooping to pick a strange firearm off the ground. Sam froze as she lifted it, slowly raising his hands to show he had no weapons.

"Uh, hi?" He said nervously.

She put the butt of the rifle into her shoulder and aimed it at him hesitantly, looking him up and down before speaking. Sam couldn't understand a word of what she said, nor did he recognize the language. Had he not been so fearful for his life, he probably would have laughed at her; to him, the words sounded like a native Japanese-speaker trying unsuccessfully to speak German.