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===[CHAPTER 22: SHOOT. THINK. RUN. LIVE.]===
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Once again, Eli found himself alone. The bullet wound in his leg burned even hotter with the adrenaline fueling his escape wearing off. He only lingered on the spot where Otaes stood on the roof for a moment, before he drew his attention to the wound. The location of which was made obvious by the patch of red blood tainting his uniform and making the dark blue somehow even darker.
Sitting on the floor against the wall, he rolled up the sleeve of his pants to expose the wound. Every ginger touch from the fabric alone was enough to send a ripple of pain up his spine, but he pressed on until he could see the exposed flesh. He was met with a crimson red puncture of a bullet hole which tore straight into his calf. How he hadn’t lost function in his leg entirely was just as much of a mystery as it was a miracle, but if he didn’t address the fact that he had a giant gaping wound in his leg – he wasn’t going to have that miracle for long.
Back during his time as an Army draftee, they taught the recruits how to dress wounds. He’d used those skills often fighting in Korea, but it was never for an injury as massive as this one. Come to think of it, Eli had never been shot before. Shot at, sure. Plenty of times. Too many, now that he thought about it. But never had he actually been hit. This was a first.
And it was a horrible first. The wound clearly hadn’t been made by any ordinary bullet. A near perfect ring of flesh had gotten charred by the sheer heat of whatever kind of ammunition hit him. Ironically, despite the pain, the heat cauterized the wound slightly which might have saved him from greater blood loss – though it definitely was doing more harm than good now. As he painfully tried to get a more accurate view of the wound, he could make out black fragments of something metallic buried in between bloody strings of flesh. The fragments were shiny, sharp, and all of them made their own individual trails of destruction upon impact. Even the tiny fragments of the round were enough to cause him sharp pain whenever they poked at the inside of his leg.
The holes didn’t penetrate too far into the muscle, but it was enough to do serious damage if left untended. Eli reached for his pack, pulling out the first aid kit from inside. His mind briefly wondered if The Coalition was still looking for them or even if they'd gotten their message at all, but the idea left him nearly as fast as it came. No use praying for them to arrive now. Here, he was on his own for the time being.
He had only a vague idea of what the first aid kit’s contents would be. He’d be lucky if there was anything useful inside that he actually remembered how to use properly. His mind was too frayed at the moment to recall what exactly would be needed in this situation. If only Matteo were here… he’d know.
When the pack opened though he found an abundance of supplies. Gauze, gloves, scissors, and a tourniquet. Strapping the gloves over his thoroughly soiled hands, he used the scissors to carefully remove the bullet fragments that he could see from his leg. Carefully, slowly, with hands that were determined to shake and wobble no matter how much he tried to still them, he managed to do it without further aggravating the wound.
Next, gauze. He couldn’t make out any kind of disinfectant inside of the kit, so he’d just have to wrap it and hope for the best. He didn’t even have any water to try and throw over it. One strip of gauze over another, wrapping around and around until his entire leg was covered by the cream-colored bands of tape. The wrap was tight enough to hopefully keep the wound closed without having to resort to using the tourniquet on himself. Afterall, he’d still need to walk, and if he was using the tourniquet properly then walking would be extremely difficult – if not impossible .
Hoping that it was good enough for now, he rolled down the sleeve of his pants, and tried to stand. Should the bleeding get even worse, he’d use the tourniquet. But for now, it would hold.
Standing up, his leg still hurt – but not as vibrantly as it did before. More of a leftover pain that ached rather than a stabbing handful of needles poking inside of him. Though a few times he could still feel the fragments he couldn’t get stab him in the leg, it was enough that if he took things slow for now – he should be alright.
And when the assessment of his own injury was finished, Eli once again was brought to his surroundings. Out in the distance, he could still hear the muffled sounds of warfare hanging over Raritan. The screeches of dragons, roar of guns, and bass-filled booms of explosions and bombing runs. Mostly they were far away from Eli’s zone of immediate concern. Mostly. He could still hear the shout of soldiers and gunfire too close for comfort. And the question of whether or not he was still being pursued remained.
Either way, he couldn’t stay here. He needed to both get someplace safe and find Temetet.
Somehow.
Eli walked – more limped – gingerly into the depths of the building. Passing through a creaky wooden door, he was dumped into a tight hallway with even more doorways passing on either side into the apartments. There weren't many solid doors within the building however, instead cloth curtains that hung inside of the arch of the doorway. As Eli limped through the halls, he wondered if the Elves here weren’t afraid of getting their stuff stolen.
Each curtain was decorated differently, seemingly woven by hand. Some were threads of brightly colored and abstract patterns, while others were more dull. Some others depicted woven images and artwork, detailing pictures of animals or people or object or…
It was like walking through an art gallery. Except each installation was a small window into the lives of those who lived in this apartment building.
As he limped through the halls, he eventually came across a large circular space, probably right smack in the middle of the building’s core. All along the walls were mats, cushions and couches that rested on the floor. More artwork had been painted on the walls. Resting on an open spot were what appeared to be clothes and equipment. And in the center of it all was a large table flanking what looked like a indoor fireplace, judging by the soot covering the blocks of stone and mortar. A communal stove. There were even some utensils scattered on top of it, left perfectly preserved by the occupants who all either fled or were hiding within their rooms. Above the fireplace was a large open vent for the heat and smoke to escape through. A slight draft let Eli know that the vent opened somewhere to the outside world.
Speaking of which, he knew that there were people inside of the building, taking shelter deep within their homes. He briefly thought about what would happen if he was spotted by one of the elves who lived here, and the image of them mistaking him for an invader and hurting him sprung loose in his mind. A real fear, as he couldn’t speak the local language at all. Luckily all the elves he ran into so far had that translation magic spell thingy of theirs but he knew that everyone didn't share knowledge of how to cast it. It'd be in his best interests to move on as quickly as possible, and so he stopped his sightseeing tour to keep moving.
As he passed by the stuff inside, his eyes glossed briefly over something propped up on the tables. It was a knife, the metal blade still somewhat used looking – covered in grease and fat. Whatever the case, it was useful. Without hesitating, Eli grabbed hold of it and clutched the handle tightly, technically stealing from the communal kitchen. It made him feel better that he had at least something to defend himself with. To think that they’d gone through all the effort of raiding the Nexus’ armory, only for him to wind up losing his gun when he needed it most. Well not his gun, he left that one behind in the canals. But the pulse rifle one. If he was lucky he might find another, but how many Avonians and Riverlanders would there be just leaving their weapons around unattended in the middle of an invasion? If he wanted a gun to defend himself with, he was gonna have to either fight for it or be really sneaky. He might've been able to pull it off on any other day, but the still painful wound in his leg reminded him that he was in no state to start fighting armed soldiers. Not head on anyway. Though there were other ways... he'd just have to be wise about it, if he really wanted a gun.
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Passing by the communal kitchen and towards what he hoped were stairwells to the outside world, Eli froze in his tracks. In the floors underneath he could hear commotion. The garbled voices of Imperial soldiers resonated through floorboards. They were yelling, and he could hear terrified shrieks alongside them. Shrieks that were only silenced but what sounded like fighting, and then – a gunshot.
The crack of a gunshot ringing from the lower floor forced Eli to instinctively crouch low. He checked himself for wounds as the echo of the gunshot lingered, and as muffled sobbing choked the air. Wide alert, his eyes open looking for any sign of Imperial soldiers nearby. He narrowed in on the doorway on the opposing end of the hallway. A stairwell. Footsteps echoed on the steps one – by – one. Marching their way to his position.
“Shit”, Eli whispered under gritted teeth. He could not be seen. His eyes glanced around for a hiding spot but all he found were the doorways leading into people’s homes. Hardly a place for refuge, and he couldn’t just start barging into people’s homes. Besides, if those gunshots were coming from the soldiers - which he had no reason to believe otherwise - the homes were not safe either. His search would have to continue. He limped his way back to the communal fireplace. Under the tables? No, they'd spot him instantly. Behind the clothes hanging on the wall? Get real, that was just stupid. He might be able to crawl inside of the fire-based stove itself but something told him that it was a really bad idea. Hiding behind the sofas and shifting around might also work, but there were no guarantees there either, "Come on give me a break here..." Eli whispered as his panicked eyes searched literally everywhere. His only route of escape was being blocked off by the advancing Imperials. If a hiding spot was obvious, it was a bad hiding spot. That left him with nothing except for inside of people's homes, and he couldn't do that either. And then just when he debated jumping out of the window and hoping for the best, he felt a familiar draft of air pouring from on top of him. The vent!
He stood aside from it, eyeing up what he was working with. He doubted that it could work. It was close enough to the floor that he could just about reach it with his fingertips, thereby making it accessible. But with the current state of his leg, there was no guarantee that he’d even have the strength to pull himself inside. Besides, there was so much dark ash and soot covering the opening that even if he managed to crawl inside, he might just suffocate inside of it. So much for making an escape. Fresh air was flowing through it, but would that continue with Eli blocking the passage. And where would the vent even take him if he decided to crawl along it? It was a bad spot to be in...
But the boots of the Imperials were storming up the staircase rapidly. If he was caught by them, game over. The route back was blocked, and there was no time to explore for another exit. This was the best chance he’d stand.
Gritting his teeth, Eli stood up and limped his way back to the fireplace. Every second the boots of the Imperials drew nearer. He reached up, just barely able to grasp onto the lip of the vent with some moderate protest from his wound. It was possible to make it, to pull himself up though…
He sucked in a breath of air, standing on his tiptoes as far as he could. His leg hollered in pain, the bullet wound burning hot as he pushed the injury to his limit. On a normal day, he’d be able to do this without issue. But with the gunshot wound, it was almost impossible. Almost.
Through fiery torch-like pain, his hands managed to get a solid grasp inside of the soot-covered interior of the vent. He pulled himself up, slipping from the layers of soot and ash that covered the walls. Slowly, he managed to get inside, and just as he pulled the last of himself up into the darkness of the ventilation shaft, the Imperials burst onto the floor!
He held his breath. The darkness of the vent was disorienting. He could hardly tell which way was supposed to be forward. The air inside of the vent was unsurprisingly filthy. And with Eli’s presence disturbing years of layered ash, all of it was being kicked up into the air to burn his eyes, nose, and throat. He looked at his hands, pitch black covered in soot and ash. Crawling on his hands and knees, he managed to slither away from the vent opening.
Chaos filled the hallways just outside of the vent’s walls. The soldiers were having a field day in as they conducted their raid of the apartment floor. As Eli crawled further through the vent he spotted a small opening, hardly big enough for a quarter to fit through. It looked like a screw was supposed to fit inside but it had long since fallen out. Through the hole he was able to see what was going on right underneath him. Right up close, he saw them. Imperial soldiers.
Wearing much lighter armor than the Shock Trooper. The face covered by a gas mask with glowing red sights for the eyes. And a purple band wrapped around the shoulder with foreign letterings etched onto them. The Imperial soldier was menacing. Just as much as the Shock Trooper was. The Imperial ordered a group of somewhat less-advanced looking soldiers to flood the rooms surrounding them – though seeing that they all carried pulse rifles, Eli knew that they were all Imperial soldiers. If Otaes was right, at least. The one with the advanced suit of armor looked like the leader of the pack. An idea reinforced by the orders that he gave out to the troops surrounding him. They kicked down doors to be greeted by yells and screaming residents inside. Two of the soldiers had dragged someone out of the room. It was another elf, a woman. And from her arms was a baby. The baby was crying in fear, but that didn’t stop the soldiers from snatching the infant out of her arms and handing them to another soldier guarding the rear. The woman herself, begging the soldiers for mercy was silenced by a hit from a rifle’s tail end.
Eli watched in horror as more of the hiding residents were brought into the hallway by the soldiers. It was like they were being rounded up… for some reason. Some tried to fight back only to be beaten into submission. Others were confused as to where they were being taken to, just as Eli was watching them from his somewhat safe angle.
One of the elves stood defiant, trying to fight his capturers only to be forcibly manhandled by three of them and shoved into a kneeling position. The lead Imperial walked up to him, grabbing his chin and forcing him to stare into the Imperial’s red eyes. They spoke back and forth, eventually leading to the elf spitting on the Imperial’s uniform. In disgust, the Imperial took a step back. He reached for the pistol holstered.
There was no dramatic flair to it at all. No defiant last stand. Nothing. As if the Imperial could care less, he aimed the barrel straight between the elf’s eyes. There was screaming from the others when they realized what was about to happen, but while they were restrained there was nothing they could. And likewise, there was nothing Eli could do. But watch in terror.
Muzzle flash, a powerful bang, and the elf’s body went limp. Falling onto the floor with a thud as blood trickled through the bullet wound in his forehead. The crowd had become silent as the soldier stowed the pistol away. With a gesture to the rest of his soldiers he gave an order, and the other Imperials under his command began dragging the captured elves away…
Eli had to resist the urge to scream. All he could do was stare, watching the Imperials terrorize and abduct the locals. It all made so much sense now why Otaes hated them with a burning passion. They were brutal and with they way they were handling the locals, seemed to view them as less than themselves. Like animals being led to the slaughter, the Imperials hauled the locals away to a unknown fate.
A squad of about five Imperials remained to clear out the rest of the floor while the other three hauled the locals outside. The leader of the pack summoned his troops close and they continued their search through the building. None the wiser that they were being watched from the vents above their heads.
It took Eli a while to process what he’d seen. It was a level of cruelty that he hadn’t seen as viscerally since The Nexus when the regulars opened fire on the crowd of prisoners as a warning. He had grown used to violence by now. But this wasn’t just war. It was barbarism.
Shakily, Eli kept himself going. Trying to get the image of the baby and of the murdered elf out of his mind. Where were they taking the child off to? Why did they feel the need to separate it from what was presumably their mother? Why were they doing any of this? There was nothing of value here. Unless they were looking for something.
Maybe they were looking for someone? Was it possible that they were still pursuing Otaes and Eli’s tail? Was all of this violence his fault?
Suddenly the vent shaft seemed even more suffocating than before. And he found it even harder to breathe. It couldn’t be his fault, there was no reason why Eli’s presence would force the Imperials to do this to innocent people. It was possible that they had no clue of Eli’s existence, they were just motivated either by cruel orders or hatred of the locals. Or both. Eli dragged himself further along, hoping that he wouldn’t find out the answer as to why. For he never wanted to come across another Imperial soldier again…
Up an incline that proved difficult to snake his way through due to the soot, he imagined that it was leading to the floor just above, which would give him distance away from the Imperials below. Another vent opening appeared; this time it was large enough for Eli to fit through. Figuring that it was at least far enough away that he’d be in relative safety to find a new path on his own, he took a risk.
Carefully he crawled out of the dark and constricting vents and lowered himself onto the floor. He’d been spat out into a half-bombed hallway that exposed bits of the skies above.
His eyes landed on a door to his left. It was slightly ajar. Eli shuffled over towards it, not exactly sure of what he was hoping to find but believing that something of use might reside behind it. Out of view. Anything, or anyone who could help him. Standing right up to it, his hands pressed against the wooden surface. The door creaked open, painfully loud. Eli cringed in what may have been an overreaction to the sound of a door opening. Or perhaps not. It didn’t matter either way.
The moment that he stepped foot into the room, he felt someone grab him from behind. He was disoriented by a blood curdling scream, spun around, and by some mysterious force - thrown to the ground. His clouded eyes wearily looked up, to see – of all things – the figure of an masked Elf pressing a dagger against his throat.
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