I know I don't have the time to enter another contest, but here I am! For Link's Little Brother and Psychic Prince's Inspirational Contest!
This was inspired by the book called, The Enemy by Charlie Higson. It's a great book. This is kind of a different style of writing than I usually do, but hey, I hope you like it!
EDIT 2-2-13: Re-edited some grammatical errors for your reading pleasure. /slapped
He was cold.
The air was chilly, and despite the lack of snow on the ground, it was freezing. It was a lonely type of cold, Link had decided. He tightened his jacket and gripped his sword handle.
He had to be prepared for anything. He promised.
The streets were empty, and the only thing shining through the perpetual darkness was frail light coming from shattered streetlights. It was shameful, really. He looked up to the sky. It'd been a while since the sun shone, he realized. It was all dark and coldness, a blackened sun.
His eyes passed over a field of dry, torn grass. He remembered running through those fields, carefree, laughing with his friends. Not caring about the future, the only thing that had mattered was that little game.
Where were his friends now?
Dead, he told himself bitterly. Dead, leaving him to wander helplessly on the streets.
The air stank of decomposing, rotting bodies. A streetlight shone on one of the bodies, head hanging back limply, and tongue lolling out helplessly. Flies were already buzzing about, eager for anything. He kicked the body harshly.
It could have been somebody's mother, somebody's lover, somebody's sister. But now it was just one of the many dead bodies, a victim of the disease that had first swept through the town three years ago.
The disease. He bit his lip, and cruel memories came flooding back.
The disease was a new epidemic nobody had heard of before. People reasoned it had been brought by foreigners. A year ago, he hadn't cared. He decided that if it had nothing to do with him, he wouldn't care.
That was before.
That was before it did have something to do with him. His sister was one of the first to go. He remembered it on the headlines, flashing, loud. His mother had cried. He heard her wailing, my baby, my baby...
But his mother was gone too.
His little sister, Aryll, had been a sweet girl. She was scared and frail, small. He promised to protect her. That was yet another promise he had broken.
It happened so quickly, swept over her like a storm. She got weaker, more afraid. He remembered her screaming at him. Who are you? She screeched, throwing things at him.
It created a hole in his heart. Not that he still had a heart, after this.
Then she just stopped talking altogether. Stared outside the window, didn't smile. The only times she did speak was when she whispered, run as fast as you can.
He didn't understand. Now he did.
He considered he was lucky that his sister just died, quietly, leaving the world. Those who were touched by the disease but still lived—
No, he wouldn't think about that.
His mother had gone too, then his friends, leaving him alone. All alone.
Was there anybody else out there, alive?
Link thought it was a harsh fate, to be left alone. Why didn't the disease claim him? Why didn't it take him to the Sacred Realm above, where his sister and his mother and all his friends were? Why did it leave him here, to try and survive in a living hell?
He scavenged through the streets, hungry. The Followers had taken all that remained, taken the food, taken all remains of life. It was so empty, so cold.
He heard a scream, a yell, a shout, and tensed. Whirled around, only to face a mass of Followers.
They were pale, with horrid scars scratched across all of them in what seemed to be marking. Their eyes were red, with no whites. Just inhumanly staring, though never seeing, and they howled.
They were remains of what seemed to be human. Human? Link scoffed at himself for even thinking of such a thing. They all grasped crude weapons, knives, spears, swords, sledge hammers...
He bit his lip, and heard Aryll whispering to him faintly...
Run as fast as you can.
And he did, turning around the corner, footsteps echoing on the blood-stained stone streets.
Link hid himself in the corner, cloaked by shadows. His heart was thumping wildly out of his chest, and he pressed himself flatly against the wall. He could almost smell them. They were still there. They were hunting him. His hands wandered back to his sword, and he held his breath.
There was no sound, nothing, and it was frightening standing there in the shadows. As if a Follower would suddenly jump out, and drag him down to hell. He was too far from the streets—the fake lights from the street lamps wouldn't shine here. The sun had been covered in darkness for a while now. He blinked in the utter darkness, trying to rein in his wild heartbeat. It was quiet, still, too still.
Like something would happen, shatter the unnaturalness of the moment.
The silence was burning in his ears, and Link sent a silent prayer to the Goddesses and peered around the corner, looking back the way he came. There appeared to be no Followers from that direction. He strained his eyes, looked further back, and saw the vague outline of the crowd. Though they were blind, the Followers had an inhuman sense of smell. They'd sniff him out like a beast, and then slaughter him like a pig. He turned the other way and thought he would drop dead where he was standing.
A larger, more organized group of Followers were coming from that side. They all wielded heavy axes—axes that could easily cut through flesh and bone as if it was nothing. The tallest, sturdiest Follower stood as the leader in the front. He squinted, trying to remember. He decided to call him the big Follower. The big Follower could have been a butcher, a teacher maybe, or a soldier who was going to go off to war before the disease struck.
That was the curse to those who survived the disease, those who were touched by the hand of death but didn't fall. They become pawns, wandering creatures. Followers.
He couldn't even bear to think of what might have happened if Aryll survived the disease. She would have become one of those monsters.
They were getting closer, the two groups. Would they close on him? Would they kill him? He hid in the shadows once more, praying never to be found.
There was a howl.
No.
It got louder, closer. Creeping up on him. Threatening to swallow him whole.
No.
It got louder, still, closer. He heard footsteps.
One, two, three. There was yet another howl. He was in hysterics.
No!
He turned, slowly, steadily, only to be face to face with the big Follower. It screeched, loud in his ear, and swung the axe.
But Link was faster. He prided himself on his speed.
He whirled around it, the sword was out now. He delivered a quick chop to the legs, and smelled blood. Hopefully it wasn't his blood. The Follower screamed again, swinging blindly. Link felt like his lungs were going to burst.
Fear was building up, like a parasite clinging on to him. The Follower would smell his fear. Would track him down. Then he would be lying dead in a lifeless pile on the ground, a hunk of useless flesh.
No, it wouldn't happen to him. He wouldn't let it happen.
His breathing was heavy and his head was pounding, it was insane, so loud. It was almost like the world was in slow motion; he couldn't hear anything but the fierce shouting of his own heart.
There was yet another swinging of the axe. He wasn't so quick this time, and it hit his shoulder, the heavy blade slicing into his skin. Link bit his lip, trying not to scream. Trying not to wail out to the Goddesses, where are you now?
Blood stained his jacket and the pain was burning like searing fire in his skin. Like teeth ripping through his flesh. There was so much crimson, yet he knew there'd be more.
The big Follower could smell it now. The smell of blood was thick and heavy. Link could have drowned in it.
The pain in his lungs was taking effect now. He could see it—his chest would burst. Then the Follower would devour him whole. He took a deep, heavy breath, and tried to ignore the burning pain in his shoulder.
He had to fight. Then he would run and die in peace—he'd rather die in the corners, hidden, than be eaten alive by a monster.
Run as fast as you can.
He grunted in effort, drew his blade back, and swung. It sliced through the Follower's legs, and with a piercing howl, the big Follower crashed to the ground. His lungs felt heavy in his chest again. His shoulder cried tears of blood.
The big Follower was still alive—but not for long. He swung the sword forward again, and the howling stopped. The screaming stopped. And he was alive.
But the rest were coming. They would avenge their leader. You fought well, Link, he told himself, admitting defeat.
Sure enough, he looked around the corner. His ears drowned in the storm of howls, grieving howls. Link was amazed that they could even mourn for their dead. They were coming.
I'm sorry, Aryll. I'm sorry, Mom.
Link sank back into the shadows, sagged against the wall with closed eyes. Waiting. His arm was going numb, and his hand jolted with pain. He didn't bother opening his eyes to check. There was another blast of fiery pain on his wrist. The pain in his shoulder seemed to explode, and it took all Link's self-control to avoid screaming out in pain.
Dear Goddesses, let this torment end soon.
Yet death didn't come as quick as expected.
His weary eyes opened, and he saw a blur of movement, a rush of wind, the smell of a battle. A group of—he assumed they were people, it was the more appealing decision—people were fighting the Followers, slaughtering them. He watched, mesmerized. How could they cut through the Followers like they were dead grass?
That was the last thing he saw before everything went black.
Link woke up, and found himself in a bed. A clean bed, on clean linen sheets. To his horror, he realized he was in nothing but his pants. His blood-soaked shirt was gone, and his shoulder was wrapped in bandages. He reached for the soft blanket and wrapped it tight around himself.
He had lived.
He tried to stand up, get up, tried to look around. Where was he? Who were those people? Why had they saved him?
Somebody pushed him back into the bed, and startled, he fell back onto the sheets, a look of surprise on his face.
"You're not well enough to walk yet." A woman piped up from the chair next to the bed. He was startled. She was there? Had she changed him?
The woman saw his look of surprise and giggled, a sound that rang in his ears.
"I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Peach, the nurse who works for the Alliance." She extended her hand casually to him. The Alliance? Is that what they called the group who saved him? Did Peach save him?
He looked her over, contemplating her. She had a round, pretty face and wide, cornflower blue eyes. Her face was framed by curls of blonde hair. Link doubted she could fight all, let alone fight for the Alliance. His eyes drifted towards the three loaded pistols at her belt and he swallowed, shoving those thoughts aside.
"Did you save me?" he croaked. His voice was hoarse in his throat.
"I wasn't at the fight when it occurred," she answered cheerily, "I was at the camp when they brought you in."
He considered this for a moment. They? Who exactly were they?
"Why did they save me?" he blurted. The question just slipped from Link's mouth, and he wondered if he would regret it.
Peach shrugged.
"The captain ordered you to be saved and patched up immediately."
The captain? He had never met this captain. What did they want with him? Link was certain they weren't on the side of the vicious, inhuman Followers, but he wasn't so sure they were good either.
"Speaking of the captain," she started, and stood up, heading for the door, "they'll be speaking and checking up on you later."
He gave her a blank look. Peach nodded towards the tray of food on a cart next to him. Where did they manage to find this food in the ruins? He took a bite gratefully.
"Eat up. I have to go tend the other patients." She left with a bubbly wave, and Link could only eat his food in silence and shock.
He was alive. That alone, was a miracle. But Peach, the nurse, mentioned the Alliance. She was part of the Alliance. Judging by this information, Link told himself that the Alliance had saved him.
But why? Why did they? Why didn't they leave him to die in peace? Why didn't they let him see his mother, his friends, and Aryll again in the Sacred Realm?
Link gulped. In all honesty, he was happy to be alive.
There it was again. That pain in his hand and wrist. Link sank back onto the pillow, shivering faintly.
He heard the door open and close, and a young man strode in. The young man was in a skin-tight body suit. His hands were wrapped in bandages, and his face was hidden by a cowl.
The captain, Link assumed.
"So you're awake." The captain spoke, in a vague, almost feminine sounding voice. Link felt the captain was scrutinizing him with dark, blue eyes.
"I am," he answered awkwardly. What else was there to say? "Thank you-for saving me, I mean."
Link asked himself a question: did they save him or did they just prolong his torment? The numbing pain in his wrist and hand returned and he flinched.
The captain dismissed this with a wave of his hand, and pulled down the cowl. The bandages came off, and Link stared into the eyes of perhaps the most stunning woman he'd ever seen.
The captain was indeed, a woman. Her hair fell down in dark, brown waves. She held herself with a dangerous kind of elegance, and met Link's shocked gaze with dark blue eyes and a cool expression. She was pale, not like a Follower, but not sun-tanned like Link.
He remembered with lament that the sun was now covered in black. There went his tan, earned by surfing and playing football on hot summer days.
But that was the least of his problems.
"I'm Zelda. The captain." She reached out, and he shook her hand. She had a firm, strong handshake and her gaze did not waver.
Link wouldn't lie—she was an intimidating woman. A beautifully intimidating woman.
"If you don't mind me asking," he started, trying not to be rude, especially under the stare of the captain, "but why did you save me?"
"And why not?" She said instantly. He swore a smile touched her face. "Why didn't the disease claim you? Why didn't you become a Follower?"
They were all questions he could not answer.
She sat down on the chair next to his bed and leaned close to him, gaze flickering to his bandages. He felt uneasy, queer under a woman's gaze. Link knew it was silly, but he felt scandalous, especially without a shirt.
Her hand instantly flew to his wrist, where the pain was throbbing, and he gasped in surprise.
"Do you see this?" she asked quietly. She drew her hand aside, and he looked in shock at the marking that lay before him.
There, on his wrist, was a circle. The vague marking was a circle, with what seemed to be a cross etched in the corner.
She lifted her dark curtain of hair and showed him the exact same marking at the base of her neck.
"This marking is what stopped you from the disease. Everyone in the Alliance has this marking." She looked at him, and he nodded.
Link couldn't really comprehend what was happening. This strange mark...was it there before? Why had he just noticed it now? Had it really saved him from the disease?
"This marking shows that you are a skilled fighter." She nodded towards him. Was that admiration in her eyes? "I saw you take down the leader of that group of Followers. It was impressive, except for...minor casualties." Her hand drifted towards the bandages. Link pulled the sheets back around himself.
He felt a distant feeling of anger. Why? Why did he have the marking? Why wasn't it Aryll or his mother? Why did he, of all people, live in place of him?
"What's the job of the Alliance?" he asked suddenly, overwhelmed by questions. There were just so many things he longed to know.
Whether Zelda could answer, he wasn't so sure.
"We are going to track down the source of the disease and put an end to this madness." Zelda's eyes flashed dangerously. Link knew she would carry out that promise, if it wasn't such a silly dream.
"How?" he asked sceptically. Something gnawed at him, telling him it was going to be a disrespectful question, especially to the leader of the group who had saved him. "Are you going to march up to the Sacred Realm and kill the Goddesses for unleashing this plague upon us?"
Her nostrils flared. A ridiculous voice in his head mentioned that she was sexy when angry.
"Are you really so naïve? Do you think the Goddesses gave this to us? Do you think this is natural?" she stood up, towering over him, face hid by a curtain of her dark, brown hair. "Well, they didn't. Somebody did this. They wanted us to suffer. They wanted something."
He stared back in defiance. Link disliked being scolded like a child.
"That's our mission," the captain continued coldly, and leaned even closer towards him. "To stop whoever unleashed this curse upon us, and find people like you with the Mark. To join us, the Alliance, and then start over. Kill the source of the disease."
Link contemplated this for a moment. The captain wanted him to join this so-called Alliance of people with the Mark? The captain wanted him to fight more of the Followers to achieve her foolish dream? Did the other members of the Alliance agree with her? How many members were even in the Alliance?
It was crazy. His head was still pounding, and the bitter pain in his shoulder was seeping back into him.
"What if I don't want to join you?" he asked her boldly, feeling a faint light of defiance. "What if I don't want to fight and join your Alliance?"
The captain pulled away from him and strode swiftly towards the door.
"If you had a choice, don't you think I would have already asked you?" she said, and laughed, though it was a dry, humorless laugh.
Link sat up, gaping. His mouth opened and closed like that of a fish, and he was aware that he probably looked like a fool. Her eyes met his. Link didn't tear his eyes away, couldn't admit defeat. Zelda's eyes darted towards his hand where the pain was, and she couldn't mask her shock. He wondered what had her so shocked and before he could ask, she quickly regained her composure and straightened her back.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she said sharply.
The door slammed behind her.
This was definitely longer (and later!) than expected. Link's Little Brother and Psychic Prince, I hope you like it!
Please review!
