I couldn't feel my fingers.

Baldwin scanned the frozen abyss present in front of him. His smile never wavered, in fact, it stretched from one side of his mouth to another like a rubber band. And then, he began to chuckle. Then a loud, uncontrollable snort. Wheezing. It started real soft, before reaching full fledged laughter, where his face became slightly pink. Only a loose strand of his fine golden hair was released into the air.

It confounded me that I did not attempt to strike him down where he stood, because I had never been so cold in my life. And something suddenly struck my left shoulder, causing a pain to travel down from the point of impact to my body. My knees gave out beneath me; the water tendrils floating from me dissolved and became worthless droplets in the air. My breathing became slower; saliva dribbled from my mouth down to my chin. Why did my limbs seem so heavy? The blue light illuminating from my palms flickered out, and when I managed to raise my head, I saw one of the soldiers lowering a strange looking gun. One that I had never really seen before in the military.

Baldwin's boots slowly appeared in the snow, breaking apart the bright crystals that shone on its surface. He was still caught in a fit of laughter. Something thicker was leaking out my mouth now--it was blood. He knelt down next to me, the edges of his fine coat dusted with frost. With a brief sigh, he pulled out a pocket watch, and for a moment, the ticking noise was all I could hear, before it became louder and louder and louder.

* * * * * * * *

A light from above switched on, nearly blinding me. The noise made me jump. My eyelids fluttered open, and the only sound in the air was my frantic breathing, in comparison to the sound of the wind rushing against the trees.

But I was not near the trees.

I could no longer hear their branches away.

My mouth was dry, and when I managed to swallow, it was like razor blades were scratching against my throat. I then blinked several times, before squeezing them closed, trying to adjust to the sudden, unbearable soreness through my limbs. When I squinted my eyes again, things became less blurry. I was in a padded, empty room. The cold tile floor was smooth and slippery beneath my bare feet.

As I turned to look to the side, ignoring the soreness in my neck, a heavy rattling echoed in the room. It took me a few minutes that I was standing suspended in an upright position. Metal shackles were tightly bound to my wrists and ankles, pulling my arms upward at an angle. I tried to move, tried to concentrate on forming a layer of ice to weaken the shackles, but nothing appeared.

A wide glass wall sat in front of me, where I could make out a large lab in front of me, with empty tables, glowing computer screens, folders and strange machines. I realized my head had been shaved clean, and long colorful, curly wires were punctured into my skin, my upper forearms, directly under the thin hospital gown I found myself in which matched with the color of the room. My shoulders were aching terribly from the stress on my arms being pulled upwards.

The sound of shoes echoing across the marble floor made a chill run down my spine. Although it was dark in the lab outside the glass wall, Baldwin's silhouette was visible against the shadows.

In his left hand was a glass filled with a little bit of red wine, which he swirled and took a small sip from. He was dressed in a brown suit, the bright blue tie a sharp contrast against the crisp cream shirt, the buttons polished. The glow of the computer light caught his calm features. But yet, his eyes never seemed to leave me.

I began to yank and pull, the rattling going on for ages, trying with all my might to break apart the nails securing the chains to the walls. Silently, Baldwin sat down on top a desk, watching me do so, letting his feet dangle from the edge and took a sip from the glass.

He set it down with a slight thump and rested his hands on his lap.

"If I were you, I wouldn't thrash around like that. If one of the nails became loose, it would trigger an alarm. Security would be here in less then sixty seconds, giving us no choice but to put you under our sedative again." He leaned forward. "But feel free to do so. Unless you wish to smash this flimsy glass wall between us with an ice shard, like you have done so many times before. Go ahead."

Sweat beaded on my temples and rolled off the tip of my nose. Burned out, I tried to calm my heavy breathing, veins pulsing through my forehead.

He smirked. "You fail to realize that I could've made your wish come true before. Often, when you were a child, you used to beg the scientists to come up a way to make this ability disappear for good." He smiled. "I believe that people should strive to follow their dreams. Well, most of them."

As he stepped closer, I began to yank at the chains again, trying to shut out his words. But they followed me, climbed up into my ears and into the depths of my wretched soul. With a heavy gasp, I tried to focus on the light above. The metal band on my finger was gone. Baldwin spoke a bit softer as he drummed his knuckles against the glass. A smirk fell on his mouth, visible in the dark.

"And now, at last, you are an ordinary man.”

* * * * * *

I had no concept of night or day, because there were no windows. Just white walls, and the glass one I was forced to see my reflection in each time I raised my head. By now, I could hardly move, and no one outside of my padded room looked at me. Men and women, clad in white lab coats, marched through and out the double doors leading to and from, typing into their computers and scribbling across their notepads. They stuck needles into my skin and gave me many shots.

Three times in a span of unknown hours to me, a man dressed in a hazmat suit would appear in my padded room through a door that was thoroughly locked each time he stepped out with an ID card. I couldn't see his face, just his dark eyes, as he would administer a bright purple liquid in my left arm through a syringe, after rolling up my gown sleeve.

When I came to once more, a group of strangers wearing the same apparel stood in front of me. I could not tell if they were men or women because the hazmat concealed their faces so well. I couldn't really hear their voices, their shouts and insults. I could barely make Baldwin telling me that these were my victim's family members---the ones who had attended my party, the ones who were on duty at the camps I had set ablaze.

The relatives of the deceased were presented with an object of their choice, which was bludgeoned over my head and body until blood poured down my face and blocked my vision. Over a span of what I could assumed days, in which rough stitches were administered to me in a separate room to recover, each civilian man or woman or child had delivered so many blows and punches that parts of me were purple and blue. The doctors, as they called themselves, had me on my back on a cold metal sheet with a machine attached to monitor my heartbeat, to make sure.

That was the only time they unlocked my chains and moved me from the padded room.

Two soldiers stood by the door, as a line of grieving mothers, fathers, and siblings, one by one, delivered a blow to my face. At the end of the day, In the corner of my swollen, black eye, as I silently laid in a puddle of growing blood on the polished white floor, Baldwin read out a list with the names of more recorded family members who would arrive in a few week's time to me. After another scheduled recovery period, where the chains would be removed again, and I would be sent back to the machine as they injected more me with more drugs.

I missed the warmth of the sun on my back and hair. The feel of the grass on my feet and bugs on my skin.

The smell of earth and moss.

* * * * * * *

The wires attached to my fractured skull were connected to a large computer, which the strange beings dressed in white would sit and monitor what I believed was my brain. I struggled to keep my head up. My eyes were too swollen to see out of properly, and simple tasks such as swallowing, blinking, or moving my jaw was beyond excruciating. Saliva dribbled from my lips, mixed with blood, forming sticky pink bubbles on the polisher floor.

I had strange visions from time to time, and the sensation of uncontrollable thirst and hunger continued to rage. My stomach rumbled beneath me. All I could think about was food and water, and my eyes would fixate on a coffee cup that one of the researchers had left on a table next to a pile of papers. One of the men last to leave picked it up, and tossed it into the trash can before throwing on his coat and leaving the room, shutting off the lights and trapping me in complete darkness. My suspended arms burned and ached, and the hum of the computers in the back would be my company for the rest of the evening:

The freshly done stitches in my scalp throbbed in my raw skin.

I let my head hang, uncontrollable dizziness and nausea coming over me, before vomiting. The hot stuff drenched the thin gown I was in and dried on my skin—the stench settling in the hot air. Licking my dried, cracked lips, I adjusted my weight to desperately ease some of the pressure in my shoulders. When a group of new family members were lined up outside the door again, I closed my eyes, bracing myself.

* * * * * * *

I didn't bother to look up when I heard one of the doors open and close, or see Baldwin's shadow on the floor, approaching the glass wall. My blood smeared against the shackles holding me up to the ceiling, which only slightly rattled. The row of fresh, bulging stitches across my jawline stung. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a large cigar. The small flame rose upwards, then died out. A large puff of smoke rose from his mouth.

"Are you ready to talk to me now?”

“Talk?” I hoarsely whispered.

”Yes.”

My eyelids fluttered, I tried to keep them open and slightly lifted my head. Through my blurry vision, I could hear the drumming of his fingers against the table. Peaceful.

”Civil conversation always leads to proper solutions." He paused. "Or do you want to sulk and throw a hissy fit? I've seen you do it plenty of times before. It's nothing special, really. Same old story.”

"What is it?" I weakly whispered.

A smile crept on his face.

”W-what…is…it…” The words barely escaped my bloody lips. “…you want?”

“Me? Bold for you to assume that you are here because I so desire it. This for the people. This is an act of servitude. You are in indebted to the men of our country who you so miserably failed. You think this about me? Or for those who were destroyed by your foul deeds.” His pupils dilated. “We have their names on record. Everything has been written down. I am a servant of the people. Nothing more, Adlai. Nothing more.”

I exhaled.

Baldwin pulled up a chair and sat down by the glass wall. "What everyone does," he replied. "Just the truth."

"The...truth...about what?"

"What do you think?"

My head was killing me.

"The last time I let you attempt to discover truth, over three hundred and fifty innocent people were killed. Brave men, fighting for our country. Slaughtered like animals. Like dogs. By your hands." He suddenly threw his cigar on the ground and scrunched it under his heel. "Six security wards. Gone. Under a madman such as yourself. No matter what happens to you here, you'll always receive far better treatment these those real men ever did. More so than their wives and parents. Did you ever stop to consider that you were taking away fathers, uncles, or brothers? Many children on my list won’t have a father anymore. Many. Over two hundred, to be exact. And it’s all because of you. A murderer.”

“Stop it,” I whispered.

”That’s what you are. You’re a murderer. You don’t think. Just do, do, do. Instinctual. Like an animal.”

Salt water trickled down my face.

”You killed a little girl’s father. A dedicated lieutenant. She had been waiting for him to come home for weeks. She had won a spelling competition at her school and wanted to show him her certificate. Instead, she had to place it in his coffin, next to his head.” He leaned forward. “Riddled out with bullet holes.”

“Stop it.” It came out in a scream. Bits of saliva flew from my mouth, and a quiet sob slipped out of me. “Shut up.”

”Why? What is it you are afraid of?”

I looked away, blinking a great deal.

“I don’t know what else you expect me to tell you. These people were slaughtered. Slaughtered by a hideous monster such as yourself. This is all that you are good for now. You cannot be trusted with the public. That is why, for Plod's best interest, you must be detained here. And what a pitiful waste of life you are. What a waste of potential."

I lowered my eyes.

"It never had to be this way." Baldwin's tone was gentle. "But you refused correction. You've always been quite ungrateful, spoiled, and selfish, despite the chances you were given. Even in the most challenging times, I have always been quite lenient. But as you can see, even I have limits when it comes to dealing with self entitled people as yourself. So I will be straightforward with you. I will answer your question. I will tell you what I desire the most, though you should be able to clearly guess.”

My chains rattled. I dug my dirt rimmed nails into my palms.

"Safety and peace for our people," he said in a low voice. "Real Plodians. The security wards in Jova, Nivea, and Flanders are doing extremely well. The cities are repaired. The civilians have plenty of drinking water, despite what absurd rumors you may hear. All Khonie are treated well in these security wards, despite the horrible attacks they impose on our civilians each day."

I spat at the glass.

"I am not asking you to believe a word I say," Baldwin replied, not even flinching. "Nor can I really force you to tell me what I want to hear." He suddenly scoffed. "You think I am at the mercy of you when it comes to such valuable information? You have proven to me, time and time again, that you are nothing but a liar. Nonsense. I like to look at the facts. The little details. Even liars hold somewhat to the truth. I doubt at this point you remember much. But perhaps, well..." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small metal band, holding it between his index finger and thumb. "Perhaps this will jog your memory. This is yours, I presume?"

A heavy lump rose in my throat. Baldwin leaned back into his seat, causing it to creak. His bright blue eyes were still, never moving.

”It’s the same thing, really. And you already know the question I plan to ask you. You tried to destroy the evidence.” He gazed at the wires attached to my skull. “You sent them down south, didn’t you? The coral reefs. Three thousand, one hundred and fifty two, to be exact. At least I have the names of the Khonie who were reported missing from the security wards you raided.”

I gritted my teeth.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

”Let me guess. Wait, wait, wait! Do not tell me. You wanted to stay behind because you believed that I depend on you so badly—that I would dismantle the entire mission of my men just to have you here in front of me. Delusion is a hell of a drug, my friend. You think I need you, that I would be distracted by you? How cute. That ship has sailed and went. I’m afraid you have greatly miscalculated your own value to the cause of Plod’s future. But the good news is that you will provide an advanced improvement in research. Science.” His eyes lit up. “A wonderful career choice, should I say?”

”Career?” I weakly whispered, watching my saliva dribble down the glass. “I’m not good at…at anything. I’ve…I’ve only…killed innocent people. I-I-I don’t have the skills to start a career.”

“Why, of course you had the potential. You could’ve learned a useful trade. Which is why after everything calms down, you will discover that this is is all you’re useful for. And you might as well accept it. I don’t take too well to people who refuse to live in reality. All animals have a certain place, and must be kept in a secured place. You are far too dangerous to be released to the public. My main regret is that I did not do this sooner after you attempted this in Selva. My, my, my. That was clever. I thought you had been starting to wake up, lead an astounding military career. You’ve had it easier than most. I was willing to keep your mistakes hidden, pardoned you from every mess. I had offered you a home, shelter—you threw it all away to end up, well, here.” He chuckled. “You chose this, not me. And I know where your new clan of Khonie filth are. My men are already down south.”

”I didn’t have anyone with me.”

Baldwin suddenly banged his fist against the glass, causing the wall to slightly rattle. “And you insult me further by lying.”

Bile rose in the back of my throat. “Do you believe I have ever told you the truth?”

He straightened his tie. After a brief pause, he fumbled with his jacket pocket again. “You know how clumsy my staff can be sometimes. Always misplacing my files and stuff. Why, my cooks can hardly remember what type of coffee they are supposed to serve me in the mornings."

My temples began to throb.

He shook his head, smiling, but it seemed a bit false this time, almost like it had been plastered on his face. "But I know how I cannot pass this up. You finally took my advice. You actually surprised me."

I said nothing, and he began to laugh, clapping his hands in one swift motion.

"Probably the only time you've ever done what you've been told to do. You actually did it, you lucky bastard. Found a sweetheart. A pretty young thing, I imagine. It's really such a shame I never got to meet the fine lady. So I give you credit." Suddenly, he stood up and walked behind a dashboard of buttons. When he pressed one, there was a loud clicking, almost popping sound.

Like sliced butter, the shackles cleanly split in half from my bruised wrists. As I fell face down to the floor with a heavy thud, a shattering pain seared through my sore muscles. I heavily gasped for air, laying on my stomach, letting the undeniable relief past through my bruised arms.

”You should’ve aimed for gold or silver. Such a dull, boring complexion. I’m sure she wasn’t too thrilled.”

Slowly, I curled up into a ball on the ground as Baldwin descended from the side steps of the lab. His expression was still, hardened, the smile gone. He folded his arms.

"You see?" he quietly asked. "Very simple. When you decide to listen to me, things get a bit easier. Do not forget it."

* * * * * * * *

Not as many scientists came to the lab similar to before, and no longer were there victims who had come to receive retribution. The chains that used to be connected to my wrists had begun to rust.

One man, a short, stout, man with graying hair, stared at me. He was not writing on a notepad, but observed me, a look of hidden terror in his face. When I made eye contact with him, he immediately retreated to his computer, typing furiously on his keyboard. I leaned my head against the glass wall and closed my eyes.

My hair had started to grow back in, but they shaved my head again to reattach the wires. The floor was no longer smooth or white. My bare feet left bloody prints on the surface. The tiles were slightly cracked. There was not much to do but to pace, walk, pace again, although my legs could barely support me. The hospital gown I had on was soiled, and when one of the lab workers came by in a hazmat suit, they shrieked and rushed out again when they noticed me crouched in the corner hugging my knees.

Soon, I began to lose complete control of my bowels, followed by horrible stomach pains, which made no sense to me, since I had not ingested anything, for as long as I could remember. They attempted to keep the room clean, but the stench of my urine, waste, and other bodily fluids kept them out for the most part, even with the hazmat suits on. Sores began to break out on my skin, especially my lower body, so I tried to not sit down for too long on one side, less an infection began.

The scientists took notes and recorded data on the colorful shapes they associated with my brain. These wires itched and dug into the small holes they had repeatedly punctured in my scalp. It was incredibly painful to pull them out; and when they found that I did, they would simply reinsert them again, and I would be aurrounded by their hazmat suits. The foul purple substance they injected in me once every while continued, although they claimed would provide me enough to prevent dehydration, did little for me, as I would find myself so incredibly thirsty I would purposely try to wipe and lick the sweat off my legs and arms.

In the midst of it all, I tried to remember the earth. What it looked like. The landscapes, the odd colors thathad been chosen for the fields and plants. I imagined how a bright yellow sunset would appear over the sky like a giant balloon. A bird crying out in the distance. I imagine what our child would look like--would they have their mother's features more than mine? Perhaps more of hers. Yes. They would have her smile. My breathing was so rattled it hurt to cough, and when I did so in my palm, I found that it was covered in a layer of blood, my throat sore.

Gradually, the empty white room became hotter, more congested, and as I laid on my side one night in the dark on the urine covered floor, bathed in a thick layer of sweat, I waited for my breaths to stop. It seemed more quiet than usual. The faint beeping sound of computers in the background filled my ears. In a daze I sat up, and, wincing in pain at the sores collecting on my body, and would have yelled out in horror at the sudden black figure in front of me had they not placed a finger over their mouth. They did not wear a hazmat suit, let alone, any protective clothing. Nor was there any complain about the horrendous smell.

"Shh."

I remained still, not sure if I was dreaming. Then I turned my head to the side--the door was opened slightly, just a crack. Confused, I wondered how an alarm had never sounded. Perhaps they were deactivated?

The man was concealed in the shadows. Before I knew it, fingers were removing the chains attached to my legs, then the wires to my skull. Suddenly, a small flashlight was switched on. His face was covered with a black mask, his gloved hand clenched onto it. When the light shone on some other parts of the filthy floor, there were a few quick flashes from a camera, maybe a cell phone. I sat still, quietly, holding onto the scent of the man, which smelled like trees.

Outside.

"Get up," he murmured under his breath, still clicking around the room, before taking a long, hard look at me.Then, with a jerking motion of his gloved hand, he grunted. "Come." His eyes kept darting to the door.

I did not know if he was sent by Huey Baldwin, or an angel itself. I did not know if he was real, or if he thought me to be someone else. All I realized was that I needed to leave this room, regardless of whatever consequences I would face later.

Knowing that it was best to not ask anymore questions, I tried to stand to my feet, but nearly lost my balance, so that he had to help me. In the corner of my eye, I could see how the camera at the corner of the room was destroyed. The lens had taken a bullet hold straight through it. I attempted to keep up with his strides, as he was far more shorter than me, his boots as silent as my bare feet in a dim hallway. The rows of rectangular lights blinded me.

”Come now,” he ordered. “Hurry.”

We made it down several flights of stairs when my bare legs gave out and I fell. He helped me up again as I struggled to keep myself balanced. As he swiped his ID card past a black and yellow taped zone to lead us through a metallic zone, the sound of cold water rustling in the air met my ears. It took me a moment to realize, as I marveled at the bioluminescence of the dark blue waves down below us as we reached the lower deck, did he back away. The Red Mamba flag was posted on the rock walls, and it took me to finally understand my surroundings. We were in a cave. Underneath a city's restricted water supply. I held my breath at the severed network of rusted, algae covered pipes that stretched upwards for thousands of feet. Pipes that had not most likely been used for years.

I gazed up at the towering cave, trying to make sense of my surroundings; of the sudden cool, rushing air touching my skin. Goosebumps formed on the back of my neck. As we limped towards the edge of a metal lift, he finally released my arm. Even under the mask I saw how he was sweating, panting. After another coughing fit seized my lungs, he roughly made me face him.

“You listen to me,” he fiercely hissed. “You swim down this route and follow it— will take you out. It is not too deep; the passage ways are large enough for a person. No what you hear or say, you must never stop moving. These caves are connected to another. They will send out submarines, boats. You must not, under any circumstance, turn around and go back here. Is that clear?”

I weakly nodded, despite exhaustion coursing over me. I wondered why he was helping me; and what the pictures were for. I wanted to ask who he was, but he pointed a crooked finger towards the gentle waves.

”You know how to swim?”

I nodded again in a daze.

“Good. Very good. You swim. You find an opening. Go there, and stay out of sight.”

Our reflections marked the water below us. In the distance, there was beeping, red alarms going out, blaring. The man immediately glanced back, before slightly nudging me over the edge.

"You go," he yelled. "Go. Leave.”

Before I could thank him, he had already taken off, rushing up through stairs and leaping over a railing. A gunshot rang out, and his form crumpled to the ground. A few more left holes on the wall.

The sound of guards yelling snapped me back into my senses, and when I dove through the cold water, the comfort and pull of the liquid around me drew me closer towards it. Despite the lingering pain and weakness in my arms and legs, I continued to push through it. Bubbles erupted from my nose and mouth; at the bottom, stalactites and stalagmites rose from the bottom.

The hospital gown floated upwards from my body.

Through a small opening in the rocks I began to squeeze myself through, hearing the sound of the alarms become more and more faint. My chest was burning, and as I managed to find a direct opening through a small tunnel, in the corner of my eye, a cave column was visible. I broke through the surface, gasping for air, the alarms loud once more. Tripping and stumbling over rocks, shallow water splashing around my ankles, in desperate attempt to avoid the bright lights, I waded through another body of deep water. A pulsing began in my head, and the water began to slightly react to me.

Climbing over the patch of rocks; I hesitated for a moment, hearing the men's voices echoing. Not wanting to come in contact with the purple substance they wishes to inject me with, I began to clumsily limp forward, looking behind me, my bloodshot eyes visible in the reflection in the water. And once I saw myself, I stared back at an extremely pale, skeletal figure with a fecal matter stained gown on, with haunting, eyes. Imprints of the shackles marked my bare wrists. My ears poked out from my head. I studied my bare, empty hands, desperately missing the metal band that once was on my index finger.

After taking a long, satisfying, much needed drink of water, I immediately scooped up and smeared handfuls of mud over my soaked hospital gown. Due to it being pitch dark, no one could make out my form, and it would prevent detection, at least for little while until I could find some better clothing.

When I sank underneath the surface again, a strange force took over my veins, my body. The glowing blue light, very gradually returned; the water around me seemed to recognize me. As I kicked more, I sank deeper, going at a faster rate. I closed my eyes once more, oddly at peace with myself, allowing the current of the liquid to match with my rhythm. Each time I feebly splashed across the surface, I would have to lean against the rocks, waiting, breathing heavily.

When the bioluminescent colors of the waves stopped, I shivered uncontrollably, hugging my knees, water dripping from my hair. The hunger in my stomach was undeniable, but I remembered the man’s advice. There was nothing here for me but to keep dragging myself forward, although I could see nothing, hear nothing but trickling water and make out the shadows of the multiple stalactites above.

* * * * * * *

My head was halfway visible through the still surface. When I climbed up halfway on a large rock, I leaned my against it for a moment, before slowly peering out. I lost track of how long I had been swimming, but I could tell by the crickets chirping that it was nighttime. I didn't know where my location was in the cave--my stomach was rumbling uncontrollably. I slowly exhaled.

In the distance, a faint gas lantern flickered--there was a creaking noise, the man next to it kept turning until the flame inside was stronger. The gray uniform told me all I needed to know, and I silently dipped under the waves. I wasn't sure what to make sense of this intense hunger, the unexplained sensation the same night when I had encountered Eli in the flower fields. Yet, I had wanted to forget about it, but never could. Silently, I drew closer, silent ripples in the surface spreading out in infinite circles.

The soldier yawned and drew his army blanket closer around him, pausing to scratch his scrawny beard. The Red Mamba emblem was stitched in material, his rifle a few feet on the ground. His helmet covered his closed eyes, and already, a heavy snore had seemed to take over him. The blue light from my wet hands seemed to glow, ice gently crawling over the surface, the layers of pointed rocks. The lantern light began to flicker, before slowly burning out, only leaving a puff of rising smoke. Once the aroma reached my nose, the light illuminated my nose, my wide eyes.

A strange force took over me, and I leaped forward, unable to resist the urge anymore.

There was muffled shouting, shuffling, then the man's panicked screams filled the empty cave. His eyes were wide as saucers, and I dragged him underwater as he attempted to reach for his rifle. He struggled and kicked, striking me once in the face, but I managed to pin him down as he struggled to breathe, his cries for help silent underneath the water that listened to me, and only me.

His fist weakly connected against my jaw.

I sank my teeth into his ripe flesh, tearing off hunks of meat, only meat. I couldn't remember the taste, nor how he splashed and struggled, or how the foam of the water turned from white to pink, his bones, how he became silent, yes, quiet, except for my loud; heavy chewing, blood smeared all over my chin and nose and face. There was something in my mouth, something that I could eat. Ravenous, I did not stop until a sudden fullness reached my abdomen, and I suddenly backed away, shaking uncontrollably, studying my hands, then what remained in front of me. Hunks of fat and meat clung under my black fingernails.

His bones were piled next to the lantern, in the midst of his shredded uniform, but I sucked off the surface of every one clean, chewing and swallowing. Chewing. Chewing. My jaw burned, mouth ached. Water burned in my eyes, my breaths shaky, and when I finally managed to look up, his dismembered limbs were still floating in the water. As I wiped my sticky mouth, blood coated my upper arms.

The taste of his blood was strong in my mouth, no matter how much water I drank.

His still carcass remained on the surface. Water tendrils rose in the air; surrounded me, floating in the air above me. My stomach bulged from what I had shoved inside of it, and I buried my head in my lap, hugging my blood stained knees, gritting my teeth. When I slowly raised my head, staring at the lantern, my vision became blurry. Silently, I slipped into the shadows as fast as I could, my footsteps splashing and echoing in the cave, where the pipes structured on the wall seemed to end.

* * * * * * *

I tried to fill my roaring stomach with mud pies and very small rocks, which I bit off the rough edges with my teeth. A heavy soreness had settled in my abdomen, and as I leaned my head while slumped sideways against a rock, very slowly, I closed my eyes and saw their faces. Head pulsing. George. Ki’luwani. Covey. Needed to go to them, find a way to place a buffer between them and Baldwin’s men. The coral reefs—had they found refuge?

My calloused feet bled and left prints against the soggy earth. Layers upon layers of gravel and sand clung to my bare feet, coated my skin. What remained of the hospital gown was only a few loose threads, hanging on my body.

My ribs poked through my skin, and clumps of dried seaweed were stuck in my hair. But despite being able to stand sometimes, I began to continue to examine the networks of the pipes around me. By now, I could not figure out which cave I was in, but the increased scent of salt air gave me some sort of a clue. I would’ve given everything for a map, and what little food was available, I simply made due. If a soldier fell into my mist, most nights, where I was unlikely to find a source of energy for the next several days, I would have no choice.

Gradually, the novelty of devouring such foul human flesh wore on me; and once done in a panicked frenzy was now in a daze. The lingering, bitter taste was plenty of a reminder. But it allowed me to wake up and continue to move through each dark, quiet cave. Sometimes, only the sound of water dripping from the rocky pillars above would be the thing I heard for days. Squeezing through tight spaces until rock scratched my rags, my arms and legs was only necessary to avoid attention. More soldiers were lined up around the mouth of these caves, so sunlight was limited to me.

Their boat engines echoed in the walls, and I had no choice but to squeeze behind the rocks to avoid their flashlightd and make my breathing as quietly as possible.

The large sores on my skin had become something else, and a putrid stench rose from my skin. Like grass growing on spotted soil. My matted hair now reached my shoulders, covered my face. I couldn’t make out the sky to make sense of how much time had passed. I made due with fish, oysters, carrageenan, but nothing could get rid of the taste of the blood in my mouth.

And no matter how many times I tried to leave the water, I got pulled back down again and again, in the deepest darkness, the coldest tide pools, the silence of the water. My wrinkled fingers nearly had morphed together in between, and my skin was rough and scaly. I slept on rocks and in sand banks. When I heard the engines, immediately, dropping down on all fours, I would crawl between the rocks, listening to the soldier’s voices, their panic when they saw the skeletal remains of their fallen comrades who had stumbled in my path.

Sometimes, the waters would rage and flood. They would rise up to my chin, mouth, and nose, threatening me, leaving me in a dark, cold abyss. The blue light was always there—always within me. I promised to myself I would go and bring my family home to safety. There wasn’t a day that passed by in which they were not present in my mind. But other times I wondered if anyone would be able to recognize me. The thought of stepping on land, where people could see me and scream in terror was too much to bear. And gradually, bit by bit, my abilities returned to me. although such pain in my head lingered. My skin would itch so badly that dark red lines were on my bare arms and legs from excessive scratching.

No doubt a withdrawal from the purple substance they had injected me with.

Although there was no light, I limped forward, pressing one hand against the stone wall. All day, there was a constant drip, drip, drip noise that followed me.

The skeletons of any soldiers who happened to stumble my path littered the ground. My last victim was a tall, skinny man, but I devoured him just the same, if not faster letting his shredded uniform sink in the mud. It had been five days since I had eaten anything. His heart and intestines were tender—tasted different from my first one. He barely seemed to make a sound throughout the whole ideal. Water tendrils slowly wrapped around me, almost embracing me, covering my hunched over, naked, shivering form, coated in his blood. I stared at his decapitated head. The taste in my breath lingered, and his splintered bones glowed in the dark like sparkling stones.