The Fist

5

Nathan paced back and forth, walking a figure of eight around two trees not far from the bushes he'd hidden behind with Ava only a few hours earlier. He started to sweat despite the freezing temperature, shaking his hands at his sides constantly unless pausing to bite his nails.

He never should have let her go to Dursley, not ever. And definitely not alone. Why had he not gone with her? But he knew why. 'I'd have died,' he thought. 'So I let her die instead.' A story that sounded so similar to one from two weeks ago that he'd rewritten to keep himself sane. There was only one trouble with convincing himself it hadn't happened the way it had. He wouldn't be able to learn from it.

He would do it again.

And he did. Didn't he?

His eyes often flicked over to Ava's bag in the snow which kept falling, trying to bury it. He'd trapped it under the outer branches of the leafless bushes to keep it from blowing away, not wanting to keep hold of it himself.

Taking a few deep breaths, he assured himself that he'd be fine to go for a walk and come back later and she'd just be sat there waiting for him, like nothing had happened at all.

So he left, pushing each footstep further into the snow than necessary, hoping they'd remain enough to be followed later. He let his mind wander, fearing where it would settle if not. The biscuit in his hand shrank every few steps, the chocolate melting over his tongue and the dissolving biscuit base. A hooting in the distance caught his attention, redirecting his path. He followed the sound until it had a physical form. High up in a tree sat a small pale brown owl. 'A barn owl,' he noted, his gaze fixed.

Its head swivelled towards him and the small bird flew a little closer, perching on a much nearer branch, just as high up. Trying his luck, he moved closer, and closer still. And the owl flew away. He followed it, over mounds of snow, round bushes, under bent over trees, over tree roots, over logs and bypassing the occasional snake, hedgehog or frog that hadn't had time to go into hibernation before the snow-filled Winter had crash landed on their doorsteps and taken them victim.

Of course, he ignored the dead animals, accepting it wasn't his fault, mourning their death for less than a second and then walking around them, making sure he didn't get anything on his shoes.

Attempting to calm himself down, he whistled a tune Hazel assured him was from the happy part of his childhood. Plastering a smile over his lips, he kicked at the snow, sending the white powder flying up in a puff of flour. He tried to play over in his mind events from home, with Hazel.

He threw himself to the floor, slamming his knees into the ground, and struck his gloved fist deep into the snow, and again, crying out in anguish. The cries echoed among the trees, sending birds flying. His mind had provided him nothing. Nothing! All those memories dancing right in front of him, mocking him, yet completely invisible. He tried to grab at them, feel something. anything, from before the meteor.

He could dream up an image of them both playing cards, her celebrating her win. He could dream up an image of the two of them in the park. There were plenty more images on top of those, as well.

But he hadn't lived them, he'd created them.

And Dursley made sure he knew that.

It was hard, growing up. And harder still when a meteor crashes and flips your whole developing world upside down. And even worse when your city is known for its technological advancements, its scientific breakthroughs, and thought it necessary to send volunteers out to catch The Fist.

They sent twenty people out into the woods to catch the awful virus, trackers implanted in their forearms. Once the signal reported that movement had become erratic, they sent a team of people kitted out in full-body suits with sterilised trucks to collect the twelve surviving victims of the disease and take them to a quarantined laboratory to experiment on them, discovering what the virus attached to, what it looked like, what could be made that could destroy it but allow the host to remain intact. That's all they were. Hosts. Not humans anymore, dangerous test subjects enabling further experimental research into a cure, each separated so they didn't kill each other in the process.