The Apostate Trials

Chapter 16

Note:
Lots of info-dumping this chapter. You've been warned XD.

They had little choice but to trust the men─they had just saved their lives after all, or so Rylan debated. It would have been extremely ungrateful to not do so. But as they headed to the large trucks parked outside, mixtures of curiosity and suspiciousness burned deeply within Noah like a blazing wildfire, slowly poisoning his mind and heart. He knew, though, that after everything they'd so abruptly been through, his group could surely use the reprieve, no matter how short or temporary. Be it minutes, hours, or days.

"We call 'em Blue Bloods, others Shriekers, Lurkers, or Widows. Doesn't really matter," The man's voice filled in the deafening silence within the truck, his eyes focused wearily on the road ahead. "They tend to crowd big places, preferably ones with a large cluster of abandoned buildings─exactly like the one you guys were at. It was stupid. Going into the heart of town like that."

"Yeah? Then why were you there?"

"Gathering supplies for our group," He didn't miss a beat. "We sort of run a charity at our leisure, being A-Class and all. It's sort of our job here as the veterans to make sure you newbies are well-versed in the way things truly work."

Noah flashed him a raised brow from beyond the rearview. "The way things truly work?"

The man nodded. "Each and every morning, the class ranked the lowest in disposed of via these collars around our necks. I'm sure, by now, you all must know how pleasant an experience that is," He gave a small smile, earning Rylan's grimace. "The point is, a number of variables play into the orders you receive, and there are a number of ways to manipulate those variables in your favor. Each class's rank is not only judged by whether or not they completed their objectives, but how efficiently they completed those tasks. The quicker the better."

It did make sense, all things considered. In the past two days they've been here, they completed the first of their two tasks with swift ease. Maybe that was why they hadn't somehow been disposed of yet. There were classes much worse off than them out there.

"Each order is numerically worth a thousand points," The man continued. "Each person killed changes depending on their rank and the ruthlessness of your kill. D-Class is generally worth fifty, C-Class one-fifty, and so on. But beat a D-Classmen to death, gut them, burn them─those points could easily rack up to the hundreds. Find some way to reach over a thousand and you're automatically exempt from the order you were given."

Noah felt his stomach turn at the idea; from the look Rylan gave him, it was clear he felt the same. Everything had been centered around the lethalness of each kill. How badly you could make your enemy suffer. It honestly made him sick.

If the man noticed their displeasure, he masked it well, continuing with his explanation as if it were an ordinary talk about a game of football. It suddenly occurred to Noah that he didn't exactly remember what football was. "But human enemies are only the icing on the cake. The real threat comes from the subtle changes in weather conditions, lack of resources─and Blue Bloods."

"You mean to tell me there's more?"

"Generally speaking, there are two types of Blue-Bloods; Infectors and Breeders," He chose to speak over Rylan's comment, ignoring it altogether. "While both quite literally bleed a blue blood, a common trait all Infectors have is that they ooze this blue blood from their mouths whenever they spot prey. They then proceed to contaminate their prey through physical contact with the blood. All it takes is one spec and you're infected."

"Then what? You become a Widow?" Noah liked the sound Widow better than Blue-Blood, because at the end of the day, that's exactly what the sound of those creatures resembled─the tolling bells of death. The sobs of one with nothing left to live for.

"Being infected exposes you to the three stages of what we call Cataclysm. During the first, the individual experiences a broad range of extreme emotions ranging from suicidal tendencies to subtle spouts of uncontrollable rage. The experience is different for every individual," His small smirk returned again. "The second stage is hallucination. I think that speaks for itself. And during the third, the victim quite literally becomes a Cataclysm─they straight up cannibalize themselves or anyone that tries to stop them using newfound heights of superhuman strength. Nothing can stop them once that happens."

Rylan felt his fist clench; the thought of hospital's events almost too much to take in. The others currently resided in the second truck that trailed ahead of them, aside from the unconscious Lilly and sleeping Rosary. "So...they don't become Widows?" He, too, seemed content with the name.

"Of course not," The man chuckled, somehow finding blissful amusement from their ignorance. Noah had been thinking the exact same thing. "If the Infectors could reproduce then they wouldn't need Breeders, now would they?" The question sounded rhetorical and was treated as such. "Breeders tend to only go after females, not killing or attacking their victims, but merely impregnating them with a parasitic insect that lays dormant in their throats. The bodies of these victims then treat that parasitic insect as if it were an actual embryo and nourishes it accordingly, their bodies being technically fooled into thinking the things are real human babies in development. Once fully nourished, which could take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks, the embryo then hatches within its victim's stomach and slowly eats its way out her uterus. She feels every bite."

"And the males?"

"Well, I think that's swinging in an entirely different ball-park, if you catch my drift," He heaved yet another chuckle; Noah and Rylan exchanged glances, the air in-between them too awkward for words. "But relax. The probability of a Breeder actually impregnating a male is about as low as fifteen percent. The parasite wouldn't be able to nourish within a male victim, thus preventing it from properly developing and resulting in a pathetic, boney sack of flesh that, at most, lives for around a month or so. In fact, all those Blue-Bloods that attacked you back at that hospital were of male origin."

Noah's mind raced, calculating the sheer horror of the raw possibility that the man's words were true, that the things which attacked them weren't the real, fully-developed deal. It caused his eyes to broaden. Air retreated from his lungs. His body quivered. Could such monstrosities really be out there, lurking within every shadow?

"Oh! I almost forgot," His subtle change in tenor caught the two by surprise. "I'm Elliot by the way. I'm ranked third in my class."

"Rylan. I'm ranked first."

"Noah. Ranked zero." Elliot, for whatever reason, took his eyes off the road at that.

Something flashed behind his glare, something that sent yet another chilled shiver down Noah's spine. He looked mad. Boiling with profound bits and pieces of lunacy. Then, as quickly as he lost it, he snapped himself back in place. There one instant, gone the next. His laughter followed afterwards, an apology for the surprise, mumbling something along the lines of trying to 'test their metal'. But Noah knew something wasn't right. The glance Rylan gave him had all but confirmed it. Their orders still stood tall.

Then it happened.