Penumbra
Twilit Dreams
It was non-existence. No senses permeated awareness, or there was nothing to sense. No sight sound… no touch taste smell… no balance… and no cognition.
One shaky breath.
Pain exploded from within. His body ached for that breath. Feeling had returned, in the form of bruised pressure along his side, cold against his arms and face, and throbbing in his fingers.
He opened his eyes – pain. He blinked them shut, and open again. His sight adjusted to the myriad of blurred, bright grays, which gradually changed to color and distinction. Still, through no fault of his eyes, gray dominated.
Copper. He smelled metal; tasted copper and a metallic tinge in the air. The dead still air.
In his field of vision, something moved. A black blur… and it moved against the completely fixed background in time to the pain in his hand. His eyes focused; black feathers and clawed feet stained crimson danced before him. The bird's head came into view, staring at him with deep, pitiless eyes. It opened its stained beak in a silent cry of anger.
Pain.
Sound.
The raven cawed again, and the world exploded in a thunderous storm of noise.
It was far too much to take in all at once. And at once, he realized what dyed the bird's ocher skin red.
Neil panicked, and shoved himself up to sit; his shoulder hit something loose that clattered over behind him. Nevertheless, he ignored it, clutching his bloody hand to his chest and pushing away from the similarly retreating avis. He swallowed hard as it glared at him from afar, and dared not look away. He inched backward, and his unscathed hand came into contact with something not uniform with the metal ground – something softer, and barely less warm.
He turned timidly, and his eyes widened in dread as the first hints of recognition returned. Jumbled words bubbled over dry, cracked lips, so distorted that he didn't know what he had tried to say.
He tried again, faltering as the name conjured fierce memories.
"Jane?"
He reached for the fallen woman, twisting so as to kneel beside her. Her skin was warm to his apprehensive touch; and he almost cringed, imagining swift and unpleasant retaliation to the delicate poking. He smiled apologetically, ready to cough up a fast excuse in case he needed to… though he didn't think he did, because she had to understand.
"Hey… Jane? I…"
The man faltered again as perception broke through the illusion of life. Jane's skin was warmed by the morning sun, like the rest of the world was. The thick dust that covered them both couldn't hide her abnormally pallid hue that marked death.
Shock gave in to reasoning. He grasped her wrist as tightly as he dared, and waited.
His heartbeat… his pulse, and no other.
He stretched his arm to reach her throat, and held his breath as though it would make a difference.
Nothing.
"No…" he shook his head slowly in refusal, "C'mon, please," he wanted to scream it, but the words barely made it as whispers past his dry throat, "You can't do this; you're not playin' fair." It became realization – his blood ran cold, and his eyes stung.
A hint of movement caught his attention. He grimaced at the bird as it hopped towards them, intent on an easy meal.
"Get away from her!" he shouted, hoarse but boisterous enough to scare the bird away again. It continued to stare from its new perch, but he tried not to let it bother him as much as it did.
Instead, he tended to Jane; he lifted her gently… cradled her to him, and shivered. There was no need for this; the sun-heated metal around them was very warm. Maybe it had burned him, or maybe he was just sick. He certainly felt sick. He tried to remember where he was, or what had happened… anything more than the fleeting memories that teased him from the edge of recollection. He glanced at the red sun that peeked through the dust and smoke and metal frames of the world, and at that world around him.
Abandoned.
Dead.
Like you should be.
His recollection grew clearer, and he choked. He was scared of the hazy sky, and of the invisible threat that loomed just out of sight. He couldn't tell if he were alive, or if he wanted to be. He was afraid of not, but then he remembered the woman he held and the cruel brutality of reality… if this was it…. And between the two he couldn't decide.
The best wish he could think of was that this was a dream, and that he could wake and forget. His waking mind knew better, and rationality wasn't on his side.
Nearby, someone yelled words, and his despair fractured; a centimeter crack, but it was an improvement. He leveled his wits, and slowly, painfully, and with the support of the railing, gained his footing. It might have been an easier feat had he left the woman behind. Instead he carried her as though she were a doll… a very lifelike, but inanimate mannequin, precious in sentimentality only.
The platform they were on surprised him; it had been so steady as to fool him into believing he was on solid ground. Instead, the enclosed space confounded him before he realized that two steps down through a hole in the railings would bring him to concrete.
He strolled across the empty airfield, hindered slightly by Jane's weight, but more from the clumsy position in which he held her. Against common sense, he held her nearly parallel to himself. One arm was around her shoulders and the other pinned her legs against his hip. After a few paces, he stopped and fixed this by adjusting that arm under her knees, and mumbled an abundance of apologies for whatever he could imagine to be sorry for.
The hulk of debris emerged through the thick cloud of smoke. Parts of the vehicle seemed sunken in the ground – an optical illusion of smoke and the bare and broken metal frame. Neil found what he was looking for.
The dark skinned man fused to the wreckage was motionless, and the tech's skin crawled, and he glanced around at sudden misgivings.
"What took you so long?"
Neil startled, and turned to the speaker. The man's eyes had opened, and darkly screamed the silent pain that the body must have held. He was breathing, alive indeed, but the breath came so slowly it was barely noticeable.
"I don't… I…"
Ryan held up a shaking hand, and smiled, and grimaced in pain one long sigh later, "You just come around?"
"Yeah," that certainly sounded right, but, "What happened?"
The sergeant shook his head, and raised his arm to point to a part of the scenery, "You see that? To the left a little, the old old building? I've been here since the sun was there, third set of windows down there, trying to figure that out." He squinted at the marker, and back to his friend, "How long was that, anyway?"
"I… don't know." He probably could have calculated it exactly, but didn't feel the need. Besides, a rough estimate came naturally after a few moments, "A couple hours, maybe."
Ryan considered, unintentionally staring the younger man down without noticing. He blinked once, and made his decision.
"Do you think you could get me out of here?"
What could the answer be but, "Yes"? While he wasn't sure he wanted to… how much better would it be to leave the man there? Where could he find help for this, and how long would it be? And just how much more comfortable would it be?
Neil argued with himself, but it was useless. He set Jane down in the bed of the truck, and climbed in between her and the executive officer, readying for his gruesome work. He froze, realizing the better course of action.
"Wait just a second…" he climbed over the debris, searching for the medi-kit, and more importantly the hydrogel that evaded him as he checked everywhere for it.
"Take your time," Ryan mumbled, his lips melting into a thin like as he took in Jane's condition. He refused to turn as Neil leapt from the wreckage and landed solidly on the ground.
"I'll be back, so… uh… I'll be back!" the tech ran off, leaving him alone again. So he closed his eyes and rested.
Neil wasn't so calm about the situation. The nearest medical supplies could well have been a thousand miles away. He wandered the gray airfield, winding back to the out-of-place platform he'd woken up on. The raven was there, perched on the railing as if it had never left. It scowled at him, cawing and ruffling its feathers. Neil glared right back, and approached to scare it out of spite. He tripped over something, kicking it up against the short steps. A rifle on the ground; his rifle, stolen from a locker earlier… the weapon that he'd dropped… He didn't want to think about that, but the weapon could prove useful, so much as it hadn't been before.
He picked it up, and aimed slowly at the bird. He wasn't intending to kill it, of course, only scare it. One shot, aimed barely to its left, brushed by it. Much to Neil's dismay, the bird only squinted at him and cawed again. It stretched its wings, and dropped from the bar, and came aloft again to fly over the man's head.
He ducked. The bird didn't flinch. It remained level with the man as it glided towards a familiar, purposefully mobile building. It was the most likely to contain medical supplies, within walking distance – and it just had to have something. Neil ran to it, ignoring the raven. He crept inside, past the malicious scanning equipment and windows.
The rooms were still… worse than outside, where at least there was a little wind. The sterile conditions struck nervousness, and the man was constantly looking over his shoulder. Something else was there, and he shuddered in fear of an invisible assailant.
No, it's just your imagination…
A sound. Light footfalls, he thought, but maybe not, and it vanished too quickly.
There is nothing here. "Calm down." His voice broke the silence, and he winced at the stupidity of it.
And he still felt it… whatever it was.
Once he found what he was looking for, a full and unused medi-kit, one that he found crammed into a paper-filled shelf, he left as silently as possible, and swiftly scrambled when his boot screeched against the shiny metal floor.
He checked his pace after he caught himself running back to Ryan, and stopped looking over his shoulder every few steps. The anxious feeling lessened a little when he found his way back, only to be replaced by a different one.
"Serge…" he leaned over the bar, and waited for a response, which came in the from of a grunt, before continuing realizing that he didn't know what to say, "You ready?"
"I've only been waiting here… God knows how long."
Neil smiled nervously. He placed his burdens off to one side, and leapt over the edge of the bed. He braced himself; settling into what he hoped would be the best angle for speed, he gripped the pin holding Ryan in place, and wrestled with it. The trapped man added his strength to it, and the removal took a lot less effort that it might have. The metal creaked ominously as they bent it away, and Neil held it in place as Ryan wormed his way out of its path. Once he was free, the tech loosened his grip, and the metal snapped back down, dragging Neil with it. He recovered, wiping his hands on his pants and leaving a dark mark above the knees.
Both the effort and ripping free the metal from his midsection were painful, and Ryan bit his lip hard enough to tear it open. The wound in his abdomen was fully opened to the air, and he resisted clenching his arms there.
"See, not so bad," he hissed around a mouthful of blood.
Neil paled; it wasn't as though he had never seen the like before. A high percentage of military deaths were still caused by stupid, often bloody accidents that had nothing to do with war or battle. These accidents got to everyone, even the most experienced that were good enough so as never to die on the field.
So he guessed, sadly and sneaking a glimpse at Jane, that there were exceptions to that rule.
"C'mon," he helped the living, carrying the medi-pack, gun and supporting as much as he could of Ryan's bulk… and was thankful that the sergeant still seemed competent enough on his own.
The big trick was getting over the ruined vehicle. Once they cleared it, they cooperatively staggered a long ways to the nearest wall – a part of the overlooking tower. Neil put all the six months of medical training he could remember to full use. Once the hydrogel was applied, it bound Ryan's wound together, solidifying into a kind of flexible imitation skin. Over that, they worked to apply bandages. It did little good as it was, and wouldn't last forever; they could only hope some kind of help would arrive in time to fix it permanently. Afterwards, Neil ran off again, leaving Ryan against the wall to rest. The tech came back with Jane, and the sergeant didn't argue with his determination not to leave her behind.
Suddenly inspired, Neil wandered off at a slower pace, finding his way into the tower. Again, he felt the odd sensation he'd always attributed to Phantoms. Now it only existed when he was alone… and it must have been a delusion. If there were Phantoms here, he'd have died already… unless they developed a different strategy than "Kill all," and were waiting for something…
…Which they were known to do, on odd occasions.
Trying hard, and rather unsuccessfully, to be relaxed, he went about his search quickly. Thrice he had to stop to invisible noises, twice started back down, once jumped to a reflection in a window that he imagined, and all the time he regretted leaving his rifle with Ryan. He collected what he needed with haste, shoving each new thing he discovered and could think of a use for into his pockets. Once both pockets and hands were full, he retreated back down to the airfield as quickly as possible. He determined that he could return if necessary, but was not particular to the idea.
Once back, Neil sat a little farther away from the wall Ryan leaned against. He formulaically laid out what he'd found – mostly wire and circuitry – as well as the comm. device from his ear. He lacked the tools he needed. It didn't precisely mean he couldn't do what he wanted, it just meant that it would be a bit more difficult, probably lengthier project.
The day went slowly. Talk was scarce, and when it came about it ran in a grim direction before fading into the background. Neil played with the things he had managed to acquire, attempting at a makeshift transceiver; he worked languidly, for his mind wasn't on the project. Ryan didn't bother him; he was too tired to care and only wanted to rest his eyes.
"Serge!"
"What?" he shot awake, sitting up straight against the wall and instantly regretting it. Pain flourished, and he winced in Neil's direction. The tech only glared, and Ryan grinned sheepishly, "I wasn't sleeping, if that's what you think."
"Yeah, whatever," Neil replied at length, and returned to his tinkering, "…Liar."
"Hey!" Ryan feigned anger, "You can't talk to me like that, Corporal Fleming…"
"Sir," the tech acknowledged. He smirked, and kept his head down in the hope it wouldn't be entirely visible, but his superior wasn't finished.
"I… Uh, if you know the square root of … a… hundred… eighty-two, I'll let you off this time."
"It's," Neil stumbled. He dropped the wires he was messing with and looked up, staring blankly into the space between air particles, "Not a whole number; that's for sure." Ryan scrutinized him sternly, and he fidgeted, "What?"
"Okay, okay… Um, thirteen-point-something. I'll say thirteen-point-five," he pouted at nothing and leaned back, before smiling again, "Am I right?"
"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Ryan chuckled softly, leaning fully against the wall and staring at the dimming sky through the haze. The natural sunset coupled with the dust and smoke struck up beautiful colors in the heavens, with the superimposed sun at the center of the display.
"What do you suppose happened to him?" This time he kept his head down, examining the grit under his fingernails.
"Who?" Ryan closed his eyes again, making it a point not to fall to sleep this time.
"Captain Edwards." Hearing his best friend's name sent a dreadful chill through him, and he opened his eyes again.
"I'm not sure I want to think about that right now."
Understanding, Neil returned to his work. As the sun finally fell below the city plate, leaving the world in a dimmed cloudy glow, a sharp buzz broke through the silence, to be slowly replaced by a low whine. The sound disappeared when the tech removed a connection. He replaced it to another, and attached the wires to his headset.
He held the modified thing to his ear, and praised himself. He listened to the solid frequencies that filtered in, picked one at random, and sent out his distress call.
"Hello?"
Maybe not the most effective, but it got someone somewhere's attention.
"Who is this?"
"M One-Zero-Two Alpha," Neil repressed a grin, "Why, who is this?"
Silence for a minute, and a new voice came into his ear through the speaker.
"What is an MF unit doing on this channel?"
"I'm not sure, who is this?"
The disgruntled man answered, and Neil tore the comm. away from his face. Ryan watched in nervous amusement as the tech snorted while trying desperately to stifle a fit of laughter.
"What happened?" he hissed.
Neil curled his hand tighter around the transmitter. "I got Independent News!" he whispered back before bringing the device back to continue the attempt. He bit his lip when he realized the newsman was still talking, but couldn't suppress the smile.
Ryan rolled his eyes shut and rubbed them with his hand. It was no secret that the Independent and Military news networks were highly hostile to each other. Of course, this carried over to the rest of the military, even if they had nothing to do with it.
"Look, I don't mean to be rude, that's all very informative," Neil sighed, still smirking a little, cutting the man off after a string of obscenities, "But we need help here. My exec is injured; we're in an exposed area…"
"Neil, calm down – he can't see your hand."
Apparently having listened, Neil stopped the accompanying gesticulation, and brought his wrist to his forehead.
"Okay, listen – the environment could get very deadly fast. Please… we need help." After those thoughts, he glanced about the dusk for any sign of activity, and was only half pleased that he didn't see anything.
The silence didn't help his apprehension.
Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought – he could always try another frequency – but it was better to get the assistance they required as fast as possible, rather than try a hundred times. He reached to jiggle the wire and try another, but the reply stopped him.
"Where are you?"
The tech breathed a sigh of relief.
"We're in New York – one of the airfields. But I… uh… I can't see the designation from here, it's too dark."
"We'll see what we can do," the response was flat, but not dishonest. Or so Neil hoped. His hand hovered over the chord still, but it paid to be polite.
"Thank you," he pulled the wire free, and toyed with it a few seconds.
"Good?"
"I think so."
The sun was gone. The gibbous moon cast a thin light over the area, giving some places an eerie phosphorescent glow. Other places seemed to glow on their own; this seemed especially prevalent in pools on the ground that had been invisible during the day's light.
"Hey, Serge? If you want to sleep for a while – just don't die on me – but I wouldn't mind if you did. Sleep, that is."
"No," Ryan replied, "Why? You tired?"
"A little," Neil said honestly.
"Then you sleep."
Neil shook his head, and stood up, leaving the pile of junk where it was. He seated himself down beside Ryan, on the far side of where the rifle was, and smiled in the darkness.
"Gonna be a long night," he remarked, drawing his knees to his chest.
The prediction was true. They sat in silence as the hours drifted by. Nothing bothered them. Neil shivered in the cold from time to time, but Ryan seemed oblivious to it. Wisps of cloud above and the thinning smoke below blew around in a hushed dance. Despite the situation, both nodded off briefly from time to time, but neither said anything – and thus said nothing about that.
Dawn arrived, and with it came wakefulness. Ryan woke first, and took a minute to evaluate the situation. No good, they had both slept and for far too long. He thanked whatever holy power existed that nothing bad had happened during the time.
The cloudy sky kept away the sun. The phosphorescence had yet to go away entirely, but now it moved about in the form of mist and settled as morning condensation.
Neil remained asleep, his entire body drawn as far into his T-shirt as he could get. Ryan snorted at the sight, but his attention was soon drawn elsewhere.
He moved slowly, ignoring old stiffness, soreness, and bleeding. He inched his way, not daring to stand, crouch, or kneel. It wasn't far; he rested by Jane, examining not the lifelessness but the life he remembered.
"What were you trying to prove, huh?" the sergeant sighed. He tried to wipe some of the grime off her face, but his fingers weren't clean enough. The damp dirt simply spread around, leaving distinct trails.
Neil woke, lifting his head from his shirt and blinking wearily. He poked his arms from his sleeves, and tried halfheartedly to fix the now-stretched garment. He scowled at Ryan, until the sergeant noticed, when he glared at the empty pavement off a ways.
"What's wrong?"
As if he didn't understand…
"Nothing," Neil shrugged loosely, "I just…"
As though he didn't know….
"What's is it?"
"I don't feel so great." It was true, his throat was sore, his body ached… but that wasn't what bothered him. And Ryan knew it.
The executive officer sighed, "You gonna…?"
The conversation was cut short at the sound of footsteps… and voices soon after. Ryan reached for the gun, and Neil inched closer, despite being waved off. A group of strangers – soldiers – appeared through the mist, and one waved in their direction. Neither moved as the company approached.
They walked confidently and erratically; defensive but not bothered. They stopped a few feet away, and the front individual walked up without wavering. Whoever it was was unarmed and flaunted it.
"You're injured? Can you walk?" she asked, gesturing to the soldiers behind her to advance. They did, but stayed well behind her.
"I don't think I want to," Ryan admitted, although he felt a little better, "But if I have to…"
"No, we'll figure something out, don't worry."
Don't worry. As though there was something to worry about. They were safe, relatively, at last. And as the group solved their problems, the watchers in the shadows scurried back to safety as the sun rose higher in the sky, and the raven ascended to meet it.