Planet B

Ch.18

William watched as the older man began to stir. The last few hours had been the closest thing to Hell William could imagine. Unable to move his head, his choice was either to close his eyes or look directly ahead at Chaim's dead body. Greel lay next to his friend, dead. It hadn't taken long for the bearded man to bleed out. He whimpered for only a few seconds before losing consciousness and William had watched with satisfaction as the man's chest stopped moving.

William wasn't ashamed that he'd cried. The tear streaks on his cheeks showed just how much Chaim meant to him. It was Chaim who'd encouraged William to show emotion.

"Do not be afraid to show your fears, your loves, your every single feeling. I am not ashamed to say I love you, as a father loves a son. You cannot truly know and love a person if they do not show their true feelings, for you would not know them. Some will tell you otherwise, but a real man is not afraid to say they are afraid. A real man is not afraid to say he loves. A real man is not afraid to cry."

And so William cried. He cried through the pain, the tightness in his throat begged for him to stop but he had to let it out. But after a while the tears ran out. Eyes raw and throat raw and everything about him raw, he just stared at the lifeless form of his friend lying in front of him.

After a while he'd looked over the two people who'd popped into the room. The woman still lay unconscious on the floor. She lay naked and covered in burns, but the dim light made it hard to make out how severe the burns were. She was built like a brawler, that was easy to see. Broad shouldered and muscled, she would be a welcome addition to their resistance group. The man too was broad, though less muscled and more just a large frame. His hair was greying, though he didn't look to be especially old.

What stuck out the most to William was the man's clothes. They seemed to have come from a renaissance fair or some similar event. He could see the stitches on the seams of the shirt and the man wore a cloak. A cloak! Who did that?

As the man stirred William focused on him, ignoring what lingering pain his body hadn't yet numbed to. He pulled himself to his knees, taking a few long seconds to steady himself, then stood up. William could see the confusion in his eyes, the dead bodies and the dimly lit room. Given that he'd only been in the room for a few seconds before passing out he might not even remember it clearly.

The man turned and saw William and there was a flash of recognition, followed immediately by concern.

"Let's get you out of that," he said, walking toward William, hand outstretched.

"Stop!" William shouted, halting the man's progress.

"Do you want to be bound?" the man asked, clearly confused.

William would have shook his head if he could.

"The last time you tried that you passed out," William said. "Not sure why, but you touched me and then lights out."

The man seemed to think about this for a second. Then, without warning he reached forward and grabbed the clasps, careful not to actually touch William. In short order he was free of his constraints. Immediately Willam knelt down next to Chaim's body. He rested the man's head in his lap and just held him, not saying a word. William felt his chest tighten, painful and raging. The tears flowed anew. His rescuer seemed to know better than to say anything, instead going over to rouse the woman he came with, draping her with his cloak to cover her nakedness.

William looked down at his friend, cold in his hands. He'd seen people die before, plenty of them, but none he'd been especially close to. He'd known that eventually this would happen, that someone he cared about would die, but he didn't think it'd be Chaim. The man was invincible. William had seen him take out a dozen Crytons all by himself and yet here he was, lifeless.