I’m losing all sense of control.

A Magistrate is dead, from a District I could care less about politically. But I knew the minute CSO Ruenova disclosed the news, a single assassination like that could result in the death of thousands.

If not millions.

There was a bitterness as I jostled around in the Sioc on the way to Camp Green, knowing that my freedom to return to my work came at the cost of someone else. District Three took their crosshair off me and transferred it to the highest authority in another District.

But why?

Why would District Three, already limited due to the wreckage Damien and I accidentally caused, assassinate a powerful figure to spark an all out war?

A motive hidden in Damien’s case work he had left out in his room gave me some sort of hint. It wasn’t like him to keep top secret, heavily classified, information, so ready for snooping eyes. He was a heavy sleeper, making it all the more easier. Or he just didn’t think I had the obnoxious itch to obtain such information.

District Three had thousands upon thousands of refugee bodies at their disposal to use as contract soldiers, aka cannon fodder, to sell to other Districts should war break out.

Money. It was always about fucking money. Who was I to talk? I grew up rich, but that greed didn’t seem to attach itself to me either. I was selfish in other ways. War was profit. Profit for everyone except the soldiers.

A heaviness laid in my heart at that thought. If war was to be conducted on Colony Negative, my first thoughts weren’t on what the bombs would do to these tunnel structures or all the technology at our fingertips. It was on if Damien Rok would have to fight in this war as well?

I hated him. No. I hated that I cared for him.

He had his rough edges. He could be stern, aggressive, egotistical and immature. A lot of that immaturity stemmed from lack of his confidence in a new role for Milithreat. That waned greatly nowadays, as he seemed to coast into the leadership position despite the issues with Owen.

He was a good listener, even if he could never have any clue about what I talked about. It was more than just letting me talk, since most men in the past just let their brains tune me out. He actively listened, and most of all, asked questions. What I liked most about him was his smile. He had this cocky, unoriginal smile. But sometimes, I could catch a glimpse of his real smile, a slightly boyish, contagious grin that didn’t stem from cockiness or tomfoolery.

It was just pure happiness.

When the Sioc slowed and the back doors opened, I wasn’t surprised to be greeted by Grimes. I was, however, surprised at the numerous scientific personnel seemingly retiring for the week.

“Doctor,” a few of them greeted with their packed supplies and equipment, brushing past me. A lot of them avoided my gaze, as if worried I would berate them for leaving, despite not knowing the reason. Yet given their slightly quick feet and trembling fingers, I knew it wasn’t without reason.

“Grimes,” I greeted him, seeing him extend his hand out to help with my things, “It’s quite alright. I can handle it.”

“Good morning, Doctor. Long time no see. Hopefully this little escort won’t be as swift as the last,” he gave me his charming smile.

“Yes, that did end with a horrible swipe at your boss…” I sighed, knowing that was now water under the bridge, according to Damien. I had spoken to my scientific team about the hostility, and Damien cleared it up with his team. While I would have liked to, and should have made a public apology, it seems as if the audience wasn’t granted to me.

Grimes laughed at my comment, “He did deserve that, though.”

“Yes, he did,” I waited, not wanting to go down the tunnel until the Sioc took off again back to main base. It didn’t take long, leaving Grimes, two other Milithreat soldiers, and myself to be standing there in the dust. “Care to explain what’s got my people so spooked?”

“Mhm, figured you’d pick up on that. Surprised they didn’t warn you themselves,” Grimes hummed, handling the rappel rope to attach to the automatic magnet on our belt lines. We traversed down quietly, Grimes and I sandwiched between the two soldiers.

“I think they knew whatever it was wouldn’t have stopped me from coming down here,” I pointed out.

He nodded at that, “Very true. Damien thought the same. If anything, he said it would only propel you to rush over here first thing this morning instead of following our very strict patrolling measures. We had a breach in our perimeter.”

“A breach?” I perked up, “How bad? How many dead or injured?”

“None.”

“So, what seems to be the problem?”

“Let me leave that to the boss to show you,” Grimes answered.

Camp Green held this anxious energy inside it. A few looked like they were ignoring whatever news they learned this morning, yet they knew the second they closed their eyes, it would haunt them. Plenty looked around anxiously, as if worried there was a very anathema in this camp lurking in the dark corners. And then there were those holed up into their tents, hiding under the blankets.

Damien Rok didn’t look phased, standing there smoking a cigar.

“Smoking kills, you know…” I pointed out upon my approach, lacing my voice with a bit of animosity. It was a tad rude of him to smoke in an unventilated area, but it didn’t seem like anyone had the guts to confront him about that. I didn’t want to admit he did look rather handsome smoking, even if it was just meant to destress himself.

He should know we had other means of doing that…but probably not possible in Camp Green.

“Thanks for the reminder, Doctor,” he let out a puff, offering the burning log to me.

I crossed my arms, knowing he was clearly joking given the mask that covered up such capabilities to smoke. And also the fact I told him that smoking was capable of turning his lungs black. Just as black as his figurative heart.

“You didn’t let Grimes take your bags. He was in need of a workout this morning,” Damien retorted.

“She wouldn’t let me,” Grimes laughed.

Damien sighed at that, giving me a disapproving glare as he took another huff, “A true gentleman wouldn’t let a stubborn woman-”

“In that, you are correct, Rok. Hence why I was waiting for you to take my bags,” I dropped them at my feet, “These two go to my tent, and this to my lab. Go on, don’t keep me waiting.”

I could tell he was a bit astounded by my words, but I could see that little grin forming. As much as he always belittled my stubbornness, I knew he liked it. And as much as I liked bossing him around, he knew it was all rhetorical. I couldn’t boss him when it truly mattered in the bedroom.

He handed Grimes the rest of his cigar, picking up my bags and taking them away without complaint.

It didn’t take him long, soon returning before nudging me towards his tent this time, leaving Grimes to finish up that cigar for him. Whatever he wanted to show me was private, which was fine. Given the camp's reaction, they had seen whatever I was about to see.

“Perimeter sector 62: a good mile north of here. Sensors of unauthorized movement went off at around 0113 this morning,” Damien handed me his datapad.

“Wouldn’t our flashing floodlights do the trick?” I asked, seeing him remain silent. I figured the video footage would answer my question. The floodlights weren’t on constantly. Originally whenever they sensed movement, they would flash but that had to be changed since they kept blinding anyone returning to camp. And it consumed a lot of our energy resources. The electronic engineers developed a program for them to detect movement by only walking on two legs, so that it wouldn’t activate.

Given an anathema didn’t walk on two legs, any time one got close, the lights would scare them away.

Except this one.

Footage showed the anathema slowly approaching on its four limbs, the movement lanky and almost uncontrolled. Yet it stopped a few feet from the lights before they could go off. There was hesitancy, its own claws tapping nervously into the ground before it slowly lurched up on its hind feet, standing on its own. The alien’s movement wobbled slightly, before gaining composure and walking on two feet.

It had learned to walk on two feet to avoid setting off lights.

“Fucking hell…” I whispered.

“Sensors still went off, alerting us. I went out to personally dispatch it. We were lucky my team was paying attention. If this thing got into camp…” Damien explained, “I did my work, now we need yours.”

I sighed, already feeling that shiver fade from my spine. I could see why a lot of my team was eager to leave even if the threat was conquered.

“Humans themselves observe movements with repetition. Think about breaking the rules, like this anathema is doing. You’re much more confident if you can watch someone else break the rules first. Climbing over a wall, learning a new battle maneuver, or using a new scientific database for the first time. We learn the best with constant repetition.”

“What are you saying?”

“How often is this sector crossed?” I asked.

“Daily,” he answered, seeing my point, “You’re saying it watched us.”

“Yes,” I nodded, soon taking a deep breath, “But that’s not what frightens me. If these monsters, anathemas, whatever they are, are merely mutations of us, our cognitive abilities might transfer over as well. Critical thinking, observation techniques, the studying of patterns could come naturally to them all. What is frightening is that it observed the patrols without bothering to attack. It knew attacking would give the position away or even get itself killed.”

“What it didn’t account for was the sensors…but it wouldn’t have known that,” Damien crossed his arms, “If only we could ask these fuckers some questions. I want to know why we’re being stalked. I don’t mind fighting them but..I don’t like being watched.”

“I’m working on a thesis…” I trailed off.

“Are you now?” he teased. After all, the reason I was here was to build and answer a few of those, “Do tell, Doctor.”

“I think these things only attack when violence is thrust upon them,” I reasoned, “Think about our first encounter, Owen had a gun to my torso and I had a knife to his neck. Then with District Three, they threatened to kill you, and the anathema escaped. Then more appear when you have a skirmish with District Seven…”

“Okay, but about that day you got bit? The District One bodies were there for days, we didn’t fire a bullet or draw weapons until they were already coming,” he questioned. A valid question at that.

“That is a bit of an outlier…” I sadly replied, “I reviewed the footage from everyone’s point of view and weapons weren’t drawn until after the anathemas. It doesn’t align into the theory that violence had been enacted. But what if someone was thinking it?”

“You’re losing me here, Jack,” Damien rubbed his head, “What, you think these things are like…old horror movie vampires that smell fear?”

“Exactly!” I shouted slightly, glad at his observation, “Chemical signals are created typically at high levels of emotional response. Violence is categorized as an extremely high risk level. It’s not just thought or acted by just anyone at any random time. Humans are capable of emitting body odor upon intention of harm, a multistep process that ultimately leads to aggressive violence.”

He could see I was somewhat excited about this revelation. I think after he took a moment to even piece it all together, there was another part of him that realized I had shared all of this with him, and not my team. Damien and I had both experienced it first hand, where my team only got second hand reports or videos. I didn’t exactly know how my team would feel about that.

Given they were so eager to leave this forward operating base, I figured it was something I could share with the only person not afraid here.

“Okay,” he nodded slowly, “So, someone was thinking about committing violence that day? How strong must this emotion be to be some smoke signal for the anathemas to come crawling?”

“I think that depends on how sensitive they are to it. But, you and I have gotten in a few spats before, maybe even shoving each other once or twice. None of those emotions attracted a swarm of anathemas. If my gut is telling me anything, it has to be strong, a potent malodor of unadulterated, manic violence.”

“Impressive,” he complimented, “so you’re saying that if we see a hoard of anathemas to just not shoot them?”

I shook my head at that, “Too risky. Anyone on your team could be building up with anxious adrenaline to kill them, which could alter into the lines of aggression and violence even if just to protect oneself. Even if just one person in a crowd of a hundred feels that way, the swarm will come for them all. You still do what you have to in order to protect yourself, and us.”

“But if an all out war was meant to spiral chaotically onto Colony Negative with all Districts fighting to the death…” Damien trailed off.

Yes, that also frightened me. Instead of joining forces together to figure out these anathemas and what happened here, we would end up fighting amongst each other. In doing so, we’d step away from any chances of knowing what happened here. Maybe Damien was right, that this place should just be eviscerated with a nuclear explosion if it meant not going to war, if it meant not knowing any answers here.

But, perhaps the talk of war was just political games or fear mongering. It wasn’t going to stop me.

“Come on, let’s go out in the field,” I encouraged, seeing his slight hesitance. There was no hesitance in him suiting up to go out beyond the perimeter. I could tell after our conversation he was much more nervous about me going beyond that perimeter.

Cute of him to be a little protective. Cute of him also to think he could ever fucking stop me.

-

It was just Grimes, Damien, David, and myself. Four was a good, solid number to traverse these halls with. Small enough to remain quiet and hopefully avoid any of those violent odors. David was the only one remaining who seemed remotely intrigued in working past the perimeter, against Damien’s dismay. The two still haven’t really seen eye to eye after the smashing of my datapad and my fist laying into Damien Rok’s cheek.

There was a part of me, though, that wondered if David only went on this little adventure to impress me. He was highly anxious, despite nobody detecting any anathema movement or expecting trouble. The slightest of sounds unnerved him. I couldn’t necessarily blame him. If he didn’t trust the two Milithreat men guarding us, nor the anathemas who wouldn’t attack ‘unprovoked’ (all theory of course) then he had a right to be afraid.

If anyone would display any odors to attract these creatures, it would be Damien.

Grimes was rather a soft spoken soul. Even when giving orders around, he spoke with a gentle authority. I couldn’t even pinpoint a moment in these months knowing him that I had seen him even remotely angry.

David might have visions of grand heroic endeavors, but was limited in his thin physicality and lack of actual bravery. His motives seemed to be skewed, but it still gave me data so I didn’t care. The thought of him instilling violence were as delusional as whatever imaginations he had of impressing me.

No. We’d have to leave the magnificent aroma of Damien’s testosterone filled sweat to the hands of the anathemas. He did give off a very attractive scent, blending of sweat and his cologne. Or that awful pine scented soap he had in his shower.

We still wanted to navigate some uncharted territory, knowing the anathema presence could vary, but so far all was quiet.

“This way looks like there’s a pretty sizable chamber up ahead,” Damien glanced at his datapad from behind me, picking up the pace to show me.

“Sure, nothing like a big open chamber of nothing to gather more data,” David sighed. I rolled my eyes at that, unnoticeable with my helmet, but I gave a thumbs up to Damien. Anything could be useful, even empty rooms.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Of course, the chamber was blocked with a locked door and plenty of modules. I now took these little combinations as a bit of a game. Each time, I only became quicker at recognizing the sound patterns to unlock them. Three minutes, with help from my datapad at establishing the code, was all I needed.

Damien whistled, “Should just have you as the designated door opener. You are officially an expert.”

“She’s much more than that,” David barked back, surprising all of us.

“I was giving her a compliment,” Damien explained, glaring at David, “What’s got your panties in a twist? They’d scrunch up into your asshole?”

“Boys…let’s not,” I scowled, looking at Damien to keep his cool. I knew David was the instigator, but Damien and his little witty responses would not help this tension.

The door opened, revealing a room with walls covered in coagulated, bronze colored ooze. The squelching from the door opening made us all take a step back as a few thick drops splattered into the ground.

“What the fuck?” Grimes poked his head in.

The floor looked like it had once been covered with the ooze itself, but was wiped away with movement, smeared with less congealment. At least it made the ground safe to walk across in terms of not covering our boots with it. Safe in terms of how slippery this floor was…well, we’d have to avoid such clumsiness.

“Looks like we’re all taking decontamination showers when we get back…” Damien sighed, the first brave soul to step in. He flashed his light around, attached to his rifle before grabbing a few glowsticks to light up the place. He holstered his rifle for now to do so, wanting the freedom of two hands and give his sore arms a break. The hue of his red sticks with the bronze ooze radiated lights like a glowing explosion.

“So, we know it’s not blood since theirs is black,” David noted, being careful to watch his step, before finding a nice pile to observe, “but what is this shit?”

“Only one way to find out,” I muttered quietly, taking the moment to just observe. It wasn’t until I heard the clicking of Damien’s firearm, the sound of the laser priming all too familiar to me now, that I glanced his way. He didn’t draw the pistol from his thigh holster, but kept his hand steady there.

When I stepped closer, I could see immediately why he acted so cautiously. Within the gel were clear, distinct dark figures of human bodies. Six were on display right in front of us, only one of them with his head exposed. When Damien flashed his light at him, he looked already decomposed.

“Hey…wait a minute,” Damien muttered, stepping closer, “This fucker looks familiar.”

“How familiar?”

“As in, he was a District Three guard under Doctor Wueh who had his gun drawn in my direction during our little…kidnapping,” Damien explained.

“Well, it’s possible that he survived that little happening-”

“No. I remember the anathema going for him first once it escaped. He wouldn’t have survived that,” Damien shook his head.

I sighed, ignoring another chill, “That’s miles away from here though.”

“I know,” he nodded, but despite that revelation, still seemed sure. Damien wasn’t a man who was wrong about these kinds of things. He remembered faces well, given his genetic makeup and overall training with photographic memory. It would be foolish to question his judgement on this matter.

But how the fuck did a body get here?

I pulled my datapad out, grabbing my bag with my other arm to rustle through a few instruments. I didn’t want to let my bag touch the ground, not knowing what this shit was made of. But eventually I found the probe I was looking for, attaching it to my datapad to begin biological swabbing.

“Here comes Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux with her giant Q-Tip…” Damien muttered with amusement. I found it utterly insane how he could look at dead bodies and still joke around, but I had to admit he was really good at ebbing some uneasiness.

“Quiet, or I’ll shove this thing up your ass,” I joked back, stepping closer. He moved too, his hand grabbing my arm to make sure when I leaned close to swab that none of my physical armor or digits would be touching the mess.

My datapad began trying to decipher the data, scanning all numerous reports my scientific team had made. Negative results.

Organic material composition: unknown. Yet, DNA was still showing in the initial information. I didn’t know if that was just because of the six bodies stuck in this portion or if this thing was somehow alive.

“Nothing, so far…” I grunted with annoyance.

“What if it’s that enzyme? Like a physical manifestation of it?” David asked as he approached, “The cells on a molecular level gave off a similar color.”

“You’re right that physically it looks rather similar, but that’s not organically possible. It can’t manifest in some physical form for the eye to see. They only exist on a molecular level like you suggested,” I hummed.

“Well, if it is that enzyme, we probably shouldn’t be messing around with the very thing that can transform us into anathemas,” Damien noted. Good point.

Okay, well, what if I scanned beyond what information we had? It could take some time, but I could scan across various medical or biological databases to see if we get a hit. Maybe someone, somewhere, on some remote colony in another universe found some sort of similar bronze sticky goo.

Ten minutes went by of relative silence, David going to one corner, Grimes drinking his protein shake somewhere else, and Damien staying by my side but kept his gaze on the bodies. He never kept his eyes off them, as if waiting for one of them to wake up from their eternal slumber.

It wasn’t until the results came in that my eyes glanced down.

One hit, one possible similarity somehow found in the genetic makeup of whatever this thing was.

Annihilation of Humans, or the Annihilation of Cancer? How Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux’s Discovery of an Extinct Colony Led to the Genetic…

“That’s not fucking possible…” I whispered, panic in my voice.

Panic. Anger. Frustration. Fear.

An unknown ooze somehow held genetics to a cure that had been years in the making, on a Colony thousands of years old. It could just be the bodies. It had to be the bodies. After all, they probably had the scientifically crafted genome to annihilate cancer. I moved away from that batch to find another one not littered in bodies, separated from the rest.

When probing that, the organic structure still remained the same.

“No, no no….” I whispered.

“Jack, what’s wrong?” Damien asked, concern laced in his tone as he approached me.

Everything was wrong. Maybe that was a bit melodramatic. But if everything about Colony Negative was true, that this was the place of our origin that led to the diaspora throughout the colonies of our people…then the cure had been here this entire time. If it had been here, surely it could have gone just about anywhere.

I had spent years on that fucking Colony studying the ever perfect civilization ruined by jealous rage for resources, to find the answer was here all along. In an imperfect, violently blemished SHITHOLE that was our planet of fucking origin. Everything that came after Colony 599, all the hard work I had done and was ordered to not release…

SBH must have known. Surely someone there must have known there was a cure all this time. If it was on some colony like this, it had to have been elsewhere too. Maybe the others weren’t so diligent. Maybe they didn’t know what they had stumbled upon. No. I was making fucking excuses.

You cannot publish this, Doctor Deveraux. This needs serious peer review and…

Oh, how I almost fell for that bullshit. Instead, I found two other doctors willing to review and accept publication. From there, the rest was history. Those two doctors took the credit for manipulating the gene, and I was the one for discovering it with a little title and small footnote. Yet, only one out of the three of us seemed to be punished for it.

In my anxious panic attack, I dropped my datapad to the floor.

“Hey! Hey hey hey…” Damien’s voice softened as he approached me, one hand grabbing the datapad as the other held the side of my helmet, almost as if caressing my cheek, “Jack, what’s going on?”

“She’s having a panic attack,” David noted, approaching as well with urgency.

“No shit,” Damien retorted, not helping my case.

David didn’t seem to like that response. Instead of helping me overcome this blind, headache pounding, sweat inducing fear in my system like Damien was, he was quick to try and grab that datapad to get a look. The action immediately snapped me out of it, my fingers clutching it away from him.

“It’s nothing. It’s nothing,” I insisted, trying to calm my breathing, “Sorry, I just…”

“It’s okay, take deep breaths,” Damien assured, his hand still resting on my shoulder. He didn’t even seem to care about whatever was on that datapad, unlike David. My reaction piqued his interest.

He reached for it again, although my own impulses weren’t as quick as Damien’s. He was very quick to step between us, turning around to tower over David.

“What are you doing? She told you it was nothing. She’s having a panic attack for fuck’s sake!” Damien scowled.

“And whatever is on that datapad gave her a fucking panic attack. Jack, what did you find?” David insisted.

“What the hell is going on…?” Grimes asked, walking over confused.

Tensions were rising. Fear in myself. Confusion with Grimes. Burning curiosity with David. And protectiveness from the man I adored.

“H-help….he-l-l-p m-me…” a voice croaked over the period of silence. We all froze in our steps, necks craning towards the direction of the voice.

The body of the man Damien was so sure was a District Three soldier killed in the mishap was alive, eyes blinking, lips twitching, and throat throbbing. Damien slowly moved back over to me, shielding me slightly as his hand drifted back to his pistol. David was the only one curious enough to take a step forward.

“Remarkable…this enzyme is keeping him alive,” David whispered.

HELP ME.

The voice sounded like it wanted to be a shout, but given his frail state and limited energy, the words only came out like a soft whispered plea. If he had possessed the strength, the words would have been a complete crying scream.

“Please, help me,” the man begged again.

“How can we help you?” I asked, finally brave enough to take a few steps forward. I was unsure if I would have been able to do it without Damien at my side.

“Mercy, please…”

“Did the anathemas, I mean, the aliens do this to you?” Damien asked, his own voice taut with a bit of fear. Damien wasn’t afraid of much. Fear of being alone and unknown just about did it for him.

“Big one…the Collector,” he answered.

Big one?

David moved closer with a small lab mortar grinder to begin scraping enzyme for study. Yet as the very miniscule and sharp blade glided across the ooze, the man began to scream in pain.

“Stop. David stop, you’re hurting him!” I ordered, seeing him pull away slightly.

“What does it matter? He’s already dead, if your braindead Agent is correct…” David muttered under his breath.

“Damien, please, give him what he wants,” I turned my attention to him. I couldn’t watch this man suffer any longer, begging for something he wouldn’t get without us intervening. Even if Damien was right, that this man should be dead or even turned into an anathema. He wasn’t. His head wasn’t severed which meant whatever this ooze was doing to him could still be controlling him.

Damien drew his pistol at my command, David tensing up.

“What if he’s keeping this organic material alive? What if he is the host? Killing him would diminish any studying this can tell us. We might be able to find a cure-”

“This man is suffering and using his dying breaths to ask for mercy, David. Our work goes beyond that. If our experiments result in the harm of others, that’s unethical. We can’t afford to work that way. We have to be better than that. We are better than that!” I shouted.

“Or…you want whatever you found from that datapad gone forever…” David slowly noted, turning his attention back to me. His eyes glanced at my datapad which was now turned off. Any chance of him getting access to it would have to be over my dead body.

“I wouldn’t hide anything from you, from any of you,” I lied, “David, step aside and let Damien do his job.”

Damien leveled his pistol, but hands suddenly moved to clutch his arms out of desperation. David wanted the truth at any cost, and he didn’t give a shit about any District Three undead man’s pain. To get the truth, it sometimes meant going beyond morales, betraying integrity to get the gritty, unfiltered bucket of knowledge.

Stupid of him to think going toe to toe with Damien and grabbing the man’s gun would get him that truth.

“David, David stop!” Damien shouted as the two struggled. Damien was clearly the stronger one, but didn’t want to overpower him too much in fear of hurting him.

“David, listen to him!” I demanded, yet David was blind by this hunger. Whatever truth he thought he would find, it wouldn’t satiate him. No. It would disgust him, just as it had disgusted me.

Grimes moved to step in before David weakly kicked at him. In doing so, his finger slipped into the loop of the trigger. It squeezed against Damien’s finger already residing there, enough tension to pull. The laser went off, blasting a thin, hot line of boiling energy through David’s skull, killing him instantly.

My stomach dropped at the sight, Damien’s ragged voice full of panic. Grimes was the only cognisant one to try and attend to David’s wounds, as if there was any possibility of saving him. The laser had killed him quicker than his own stupidity.

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…” Damien whispered, clearly still shellshocked. While I knew he could kill without blinking an eye, or losing a wink of sleep…that was when he chose to kill. This? This was an accident. And I knew the last day he had probably had a misfire incident was that day with his brother.

“He’s the one that gave no choice, Rok,” Ruenova’s voice spoke over comms, clearly frustrated, “fucking goddamn idiot.”

This place was a fucking nightmare sometimes. There were small glimpses of hope, of some sort of ethereal revelation this place could offer. Yet that always seemed overwhelmed by some form of death.

David’s limp body seeped into the ooze at the floor, Grimes stepping away carefully.

“We can’t bring him back. He’ll be covered in that mess,” I looked at the two men, “That’s a biohazard waiting to happen.”

As much as I wanted to bring his body back, it would do no good. It wouldn’t give anyone comfort. If anything, I knew Damien being the one to fire the gun would only add to my team’s hatred for him.

A voice that had once been begs of mercy were now soft chuckles of laughter. The District Three corpse laughed with defeated wheezes of pain.

“The Collector adds to its collection…” the man cackled.

“This Collector, who is he?” Damien asked, removing himself from his own trauma to get some truth himself.

“You d-don’t know? Surely you’ve felt it. The vibrations, the movements…the giant in these tunnels….”

My mind went back to after the incident with District Three itself, Damien waking me up with his hand collapsed around my mouth. The sound of something dragging across the halls with force and friction was enough to pause any thoughts of returning to base at the time. We had never come face to face with it then.

And now, I don’t think I wanted to.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Damien shot two bullets through the cranium of the undead man, one at the middle of the brain and the other angled from his nose, right where the brain connected with the spine. He did the same soon after with David’s dead body, his corpse flinching still at the shots.

I didn’t know if what Damien did would make a difference. I didn’t know if those shots would attract any anathemas and I don’t think any of us were waiting to find out. David had been right about one thing, though. When I accessed my datapad once more with the swab of ooze, the organic material was no longer there. It was just dead…dead nothing. Dead enzyme. Dead cells with no specific genetic makeup.

All that data had, and may be forever lost. If…if I hadn’t taken and saved it beforehand.

Nobody needed to know that, though.

-

All three of us were dead silent upon our return to Camp Green, our comms just as quiet. I think all of us didn't know what to say to one another. There could be no words of comfort. Damien’s shot had been a complete accident. David, well, he had just been so fucking stupid. I don’t know why he reacted that way, why he thought trying to reach for a primed laser pistol could change anything.

Nothing could change here. That, I felt was certain. This place would always be a fucking deathtrap.

Our day worsened upon entering Camp Green with an unwanted presence. Excise Team had arrived, Owen’s obnoxiously bleached blonde hair standing out amongst the group.

“Excise Team got stuck in a storm, sir. Figured they could stay here for the night,” one of the soldiers approached Damien.

“That’s fine,” Damien nodded, although I could tell he was not happy either.

Most faces and expressions were undecipherable. I could tell a few felt pity, knowing the situation we had placed ourselves in didn’t really have a solution. Perhaps some thought Damien should have handled it better. Perhaps some even thought if I had shared what I found, which was nothing, could have changed the situation.

I had found nothing. Nothing.

“Wheew,” Owen laughed, “They should name a graveyard after you, Deveraux, with all the corpses you leave behind every time you’re out there.”

Nobody laughed.

Damien lurched forward slightly but I immediately gripped his hand.

“Ignore him,” I sent to his comms alone, “He’s clearly trying to aggravate you.”

I wouldn’t admit his comment also pissed me off. But maybe that was because he was right. Everywhere I went, collateral damage followed me as if I was my very own hurricane. I, myself, was the eye of the storm and everyone else around me got hurt. Everyone. Even…even her.

And I was going to be damned if I let it happen to Damien.

The next hours I spent in silence after all the decontamination. A few words of encouragement were sent to me from my team, and even Ruenova who also gave the wise words of wisdom to ignore Owen’s instigating words. There was nothing they could do even provide an ounce of comfort.

Stupid of me to think I could escape, leave my past and try to tackle this new challenge without facing what I left behind. What had been taken from me, all because I did what I thought was right. And now I did the same here, I was making decisions I thought were best, not just best for me but for everyone.

Yet everywhere I went, someone tried to stop me.

My eyes were heavy as the night came, yet I was too lazy and depressed to get out and dampen the small light in my tent. It wasn’t until I heard footsteps approach and open very softly the electric lock of my tent did I tense. Yet, the smell of annoyingly strong cologne to cover the musk of his regret let me know it was Damien.

I also had grown familiar with his footsteps, always as if walking with a military cadence stuck in his head. But his gait wasn’t heavy or overwhelming. He walked rather lightly for a man his size.

Damien turned off the light quietly before moving over to me. I could feel his fingers thread through my hair gently, the soothing motion giving me flashbacks to that District Three kidnapping, when I awoke slightly to the same motion. It had been him. I knew that. But his touch was even more gentle now than it was then.

He did a few more strokes before stopping, perhaps assuming I was asleep. But I felt the soft warmth of his lips soon pressed to my cheek, right across the scars.

“Goodnight, Jacqueline,” he whispered ever so quietly, “Don’t let anything stop you. Sweet dreams…”

One final kiss, and he was gone just like that, perhaps worried someone would catch him leaving my tent. I wished I could tell him. I wished I could disclose everything that happened, why I reacted the way I did. He never once showed any indication of wanting to know what I found, what I tried to hide.

Telling him anything wouldn’t make much of a difference other than getting a weight lifted off my chest. And that was all theoretical. There was no guarantee that guilt would just be taken away from a mere confession.

Would he think I had been lying to him? That I deceived him? I hoped not. I knew our missions weren’t exactly aligned. I knew eventually the crossroads would come and we’d crash into each other in some magnificent accident we couldn’t forsee happening.

We could see it coming miles and miles away. Yet I still wanted it.

I won’t, Damien. I won’t let them stop me. Not even you.