She was shivering from the cold, sat in the corner on some rotten wooden steps in this decaying corpse of a house, half consumed by the marshlands. She had a blanket, something the Anubian had fished out of one of the bags, but it was already damp from the rain leaking through the sorry excuse for a ceiling. Every few seconds a droplet would hit her silver hair and send a shiver down her spine. I almost felt bad for the kid; this sort of life wasn’t made for eight year olds. We’d been on the road ever since the Hellvetic’s border crossing, but despite leaving the snow behind weeks ago the chilling winter air had followed us like some sort of omnipresent mark of impending dread. And in all this time the kid hadn’t had a single hot meal. At first, the Anubian had protested, but lighting a fire was too risky. Even the oaf Jacques had accepted that comfort could be a tactical risk. I looked over at the mountainous Furor, only to discover he’d fallen asleep, slumped over, half covered in mud and embracing his spitfire like it was his lover. What I’d done to deserve getting stuck with these two mercenaries I’d never understand. I could have taken this job alone; despite my lack of parenting skills; even with the child I’d be able to move faster and quieter without these two.
Maybe when the Anubian falls asleep I could grab the girl and leave. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was following us. I’d felt it ever since Bergamo. That’s what made me feel cold, not the weather. I checked the mollusk; nothing. Good. The last thing we needed was one of them. Scrappers, Apocalyptics, even Resistance fighters I could handle, but I doubt we could handle much more. The snorer was a pyromaniac consisting of little skill, and the Anubian was little more than a witch doctor. Still, just a few days more of being stuck with them. Once we got to Aquitaine and delivered the girl, I could relax for a few days.
Suddenly the whole room filled with light. Then the sound of gunfire- no, thunder. Great. The paranoia had set in. I glanced out the window, almost hoping I’d see anything but shadows, only to notice I couldn’t see anything clearly through the condensation building in my gas mask’s goggles. I pulled the claustrophobic leather off and started wiping the glasses down with my thumb. I heard something move behind me and whipped my head around. The Anabaptist had finally woken up, slowly stirring from his slumber. I exhaled heavily and put my mask back on. I still felt uneasy. Any moment now a pack of gendos could come from the cover of the trees. I looked out the window, studying each detail of our surroundings. Nothing. Nothing in the darkness. I was just jumping at shadows. My focus shifted from one building to the next, and then slowly settled on the raindrops of the window. Strange…. It almost looked like they were forming a pattern, diverting in directions to create some intricate shape.
“Your heart is pounding.” My eyes snapped to the little girl. She was watching me like a spider observing a fly caught in a web. I opened my mouth to speak.
“It’s not his heart, girl.” The Anabaptist interrupted, quickly rising to his feet as he headed to the window. Had he seen what I’d seen? He pushed past me grabbing my splayer.
“This mean what I think it does?” He continued.
“Psychonauts!” I breathed.
He chucked me my splayer as he hoisted his spitfire up. Suddenly the room filled with light, as if lightning had struck, blinding us. Our vision returned immediately, but in Jacques’ place red mist
hung in the air. Then came the sound of a thunderclap and shattering glass as the world caught up
the moment.
“Look after the girl!” I shouted to the Anubian. In an instant I was moving, adrenaline taking over
and rational thought gone with the wind. In mere moments I’d exited the house and was crouched
down in the remnants of an old cobblestone street. The shot had come from the east, and suddenly I
found my legs taking me in that direction. The working part of my brain woke up and faltered my
steps. What was I dealing with here? What sort of Psychonaut could do that? I crept along the side
of a sunken house and peered around the corner.
Nothing. It could be anywhere. I could barely see 15 feet in front of me and the rain was deafening. I
turned the next corner to look back at the house with the girl. Still nothing. I tried to focus, clear my
senses, and try to think of what to do next.
Wait. What was that? Breathing! I whipped around, splayer at the ready, but something hit the shaft
knocking me off balance.
A bone cracked. Stars filled my eyes and then my face hit something hard. The ground. I tried to
raise my weapon above me but it went flying out of my hands. Defenceless. I was going to die. The
rain clapped against my mask like thunderous applause for my opponent. My vision began to fill in,
revealing my assailant. Not a Psychonaut? It was a cloaked figure, with mottled skin covered in
threadbare bandages. It held a gun unlike anything I’d ever seen. I could hear the exhale of breath
rattle through the loose teeth of this corpse. It slowly raised the gun and levelled it at my head. I
closed my eyes.
But the gun didn’t fire. I opened my eyes and felt a blinding pain, like an axe had split open my head.
The thing stood there stationary in agony, frozen. I looked around to see stones floating. Then I saw
her. The silver haired girl stood in the street, her mouth open in a scream.
