A/N: Some details have been changed from gameplay to add realism to the fictional text. Also, sorry again for the late posting. I don't know what's going on with my brain. Please, enjoy.
Chapter 3
The frigid wind and air felt like a swift kick to the gut after the warmth in the station. Carver wound around the barrier's edges and faced the forever-white. Some snaking metal tube disappeared into the dense white and gray blizzard. Around the corner was an open-air cargo lift, rusted, creaky, but functional. When everyone had boarded, he tapped the holopad to activate it. No one said anything as the lifted lowered them down a level.
Norton and Ellie's argument left everyone too tense for words.
In front of them bars twisted and metal decking rusted. Parts of the metal corridor were punctured, sharp flaps peeled back like a tin can. Other sections had fallen or the powerful wind had ripped them off. As they progressed, several areas were slicked over with ice and snow. The weight of snow and ice had collapsed the roof in one or two sections, but they were able to continue the end of the tube. Carver had the uncomfortable feeling that they were inside the ribs of a large, slumbering creature.
There, a metal ladder led downwards to what seemed to be a major entrance to a bunker coated with (surprise) more ice and snow. Carver lifted his rifle scope to his eye and zoomed in. He saw the green glow of a keypad. They wouldn't be getting in that door. A wide, white band skirted the bunker to the right, out of sight in the blizzard. To the left seemed to be hemmed in with dark, jagged rock.
Carver turned to the others. "We won't be able to get inside here, but it looks like there's a path around. Maybe there's a back entrance?"
"We won't know until we check," said Ellie.
No one else said anything. Norton smoldered in sulky silence; Buckell and Santos were too exhausted for words. Carver stepped onto the ladder, descended, and dismounted. He didn't know how deep the snow and ice layered and he didn't know what specific types of creatures lurked at his feet. Regardless, he kept his rifle shouldered and remained vigilant in as close to 360 degrees as he could manage.
Ellie's feet crunched as she hopped off, then Buckell, Santos, and Norton in the rear. Overhead was another catwalk, mangled and shorn in sections. The group moved as a single entity to the curvaceous metal wall. Everywhere was snow and ice and more snow. Carver plunged forward, itchy with anticipation and the fear that one monster out there had his name.
As they circled around, large steel I-beams upheld the upper decks over their heads. Wind continued to scream, and in his sec-suit, Carver's limbs were numbed. When the ground shook, his first thought was that an earthquake shuddered under their feet. But it was not a powerful enough shake to throw them off balance. It also seemed syncopated and inconsistent. Then a shrill squeal blasted overhead.
He glanced to the others, huddled up to the frigid steel, and followed their gaze upwards. Something large, dark, spider-like with thin, armored limbs and much too close for comfort, stood above them. He'd like to think he had nerves hard as nails, but the sight of this new terror quailed him. He shrank backwards, his suit clunked up against the wall, and he watched it spin tail, shriek, and thunder into the unknown.
"What the fuck was that thing?" His hoarse whisper was lost in the wind.
It was Ellie who galvanized them. "It's moving away from us. Keep going!"
Carver's brain clicked into gear. He could do nothing but keep everyone alive for as long as possible. If it came to be that he had to fight that beast, then he would fight it as hard as he could and give no quarter. He put it out of his mind. To dwell on it would put a stop to any logical, clear thinking that was necessary for survival.
Around the curve of the building they trudged, white and grey and snow endless. Cold bit into him. His movements were beyond him and every numbed limb seemed to run on autopilot.
"It looks like there's a…large facility ahead!" Ellie called out. Carver barely heard her, whether from the wind's roar or his fear. He looked ahead and saw what she meant. "Stay close to the wall or we're all lost in this blizzard!"
Their beleaguered little group stumbled forward another few meters, using the sides of the facility to guide their progress. A break in the weather gave them a precious minute of relief, and it was the veil lifting that saved them. Three streaks, like smoke contrails from ships, plumed from the snow. Carver recognized the sign.
"Move faster, everyone. We've got company." He motioned to what he saw. "I'll hold them up."
"Carver…" Ellie said, but she knew they stood a better chance if Carver stood between them and the Necromorphs. "Be careful."
Slashers surged out of the snowy blanket. Carver used the entirety of his stasis to buy time- -time to aim, time for the others to get away, time to think of the half-mag left in his weapon. He managed to sever the blades off one, felling it. TK snapped up the blade, shot it to spear through a second, which crippled it. The body doubled over, flew two meters back, and collapsed on the snow.
Now the third hurtled at him. No more stasis and no more rounds to help. Nothing but TK and a couple seconds to decide. He did the only thing he could do. He rolled away, the snow a cushion for the impact, and sprang to his feet with the field knife which had been secured at his calf. He had no time to feel fear as the Necromorph lunged at him a second time. It spewed thick fluid from its unhinged jaws, tentacles wiggled, but the bright, yellow eyes burned fierce and hateful.
Carver strafed the twin blades that scythed at him with inhuman fury. With all the force he could muster, he delivered a devastating stomp to the back of the awkward leg. The bone crunched but the Necromorph swung around, ignoring the mangled limb. But as it stepped, its other foot caught on the crooked leg and stumbled off balance into the snow.
He wasted no time. His knife slashed to catch the slasher's lethal blade at the thinnest joint. The tissue and bone was cut like butter under the keen edge. There was no sound to it. Off the slasher's limb flew with a spray of inky black fluid. Carver evaded an angry jab from the second arm, picked up the severed blade with TK, and dispatched the Necromorph, point blank. It was done.
Carver stood back. He realized a few seconds had passed, but that it felt like ten years. Snow shook down over the repulsive corpses, a sugar coating over rot. Enough of the uniforms remained on those bodies to identify them as SCAF infantry. While he calmed, he heard a prolonged roar- -not wind, not slashers- -but bigger, hungrier, angrier echo into the canyons. It was distant, but distance didn't matter with something huge and fast. Up along the building, further away he saw his group. The odds were so against them. Why did they even try?
Because you have to.
The thought was more a feeling that telegrammed from deep within his brain. That was enough for him to crouch to the remains that lay strewn on the ground. Much flesh and muscle had liquefied, contorted so as to be unrecognizable as human. The military uniform, however, had held together over the centuries. One had a Waypoint Station keycard. Both had full 9 mil. pistol clips, but only one had his service pistol on him. Carver took what he could get.
"Carver? Carver, are you there?" Ellie's voice was raw. "Please, Carver. Please respond."
"Yeah, I'm here."
"Are you okay? Have you been hurt?"
"I'm fine."
"Thank God you're alright. Carver, we found an entrance and some more supplies. Follow the side of the facility around and you'll see the door. Everything's unlocked. Can you make it?"
"I can."
"Please hurry. We've got…a situation here."
Wind picked up in the gorge, harrying the snow into confused white. "I'm on my way."
Carver hugged the metallic siding, and try as he might to use caution, the wind had other ideas. The force of it shoved him into a rushed walk, buffeted him into the wall, and pelted him with ice shards. The gorge's sides were lost in grey haze. Regardless of zero visibility, his spatial sense seemed spread out, wider. Up ahead, flare's red glow guided him to a broad metal door with a circular crank. SCAF serial numbers decorated the side. The doors creaked open under his application of TK.
Inside was muffled, frigid, black with age, but protected from the cutting wind. No light save from his suit shone in this entry. A second set of doors barred opened into a main chamber. Snow had crept in. Norton and Ellie stood to the side, in apparent tense conversation. He caught from Ellie "I should be the one who…" and from Norton, "…not a sacrifice" before they lowered their voices further. Santos crouched next to Buckle, who had nestled into a corner. Bloodless lips and flesh told Carver nothing new. Buckle's time in the universe was numbered.
Carver also noticed several yellow suits hanging on hooks to his right. At a cursory glance, they weren't military, but it looked like they would give additional protection against the cold, wind, snow, and ice that Tau Volantis pitched on her surface.
When he approached, Ellie and Norton broke off their hushed discussion. She looked so relieved to see him. "Carver…" Her glassy eyes showed her authentic feelings.
"Glad you could make it, soldier," Norton said, vigorously shaking his hand. "We'd thought you bought it out there."
Norton's fake greeting served to annoy him. "Not yet. But it looks like one of us will."
"Exactly. Will you tell Ellie that there's no point in Buckell continuing on in his condition?"
"Robert! Show some tact!" An edge to her words resonated with Carver's own feelings toward Norton. She continued. "Buckell's still alive and while he's alive, he stays with us! We don't leave anyone behind."
Buckell coughed, feeble, breathless. "No, he's right, Ellie. I'm done."
"Please don't say that, Austin," Santos said. Her brown hand enclosed his pale, bluish fingers. "We need you with us."
"Heh, little lady. Trying…to make me…feel better." He had to catch his breath and grimaced. "Y'all don't need…me slowing you down."
"Ellie," said Norton, softer, "We're one snowsuit short. It's honorable that you want to preserve his life as long as possible, but how much longer will he survive? Use that suit to the benefit of someone who'll have longer than a couple hours. And we need better protection than this dump can afford us."
"We haven't explored this area enough. I can get the elevator running. We can at least see what's below before we abandon Buckell."
Santos interjected before Norton could respond. "Furthermore, I might be able to get some equipment here online. Maybe I can get a crude map so we're not wandering blind."
"She's right, Norton," Carver said. "We need weapons. Hell, anything is good. I used up the last of my ammo, and I don't think a standard-issue is going to do much to protect us."
Norton's hard look was as good as a verbal reprimand, but Carver shrugged. Norton's potent authority had worn off. Finally Norton said, "Santos, if you think you can make something happen then you have your time. Carver, with me."
Norton led Carver to a smaller cubby hole that had various tools and gears strewn about. Wires ran from different areas into the larger chamber where the other worked. Across Norton's cheeks and nose was a red rash from the abrasive fine ice the wind carried. His lips were badly chapped, his eyes irritated and watery.
"We'll both have to exchange our suits for snowsuits," he stated. "Yours has so many malfunctions it's probably an upgrade anyway. If Santos and Ellie are right, and there is a research facility deeper in the canyon, you have a chance of finding an operable suit kiosk and changing back."
Carver absorbed this information a moment, accepted it, then said, "Will I retain the kinesis and stasis mods?"
"Ah, well, that's tricky. These snowsuits have TK modules, but no stasis. Ellie might have the technical knowledge to transplant the stasis mod to the snowsuit. I know she's had to rig ones up before, but from one suit to another…I don't know if it's possible."
"I guess we try and find out."
Norton nodded his head, once. He stepped in closer, put a hand on Carver's shoulder, and leaned in so that his mouth was right on Carver's ear. "Carver, did I hear you mention a 9-mil pistol?"
"That's right, sir." Automatically, his hand rested on the butt of it at his side.
"Be discreet. Hand it to me."
Norton's shifty behavior bred a bad feeling inside him. "Something I should know about?"
"Shh!" Norton licked his cracked lips. "Quiet. When we first came in, we heard movement, some type of scrambling or scuttling…from below. It's not happened since your arrival, but I didn't like the sound of it."
Confusion generated many questions. Most important was why did he want the gun to be given discreetly? "Ellie wants to go down there. Shouldn't she have a weapon?"
"Are you disobeying an order, soldier?"
Annoyance flared, and distrust because of that question's evasiveness. Carver didn't like not knowing who to trust. He framed his next words with care. "I am not, sir. I'm asking a question."
"She's not getting the weapon because she's not going down there." After a quick glance around, Norton stepped further into the shadowy space. "Look, Carver. We know Buckell's as good as dead. There is no reason for her to go further into danger. What if those things crawl up here with our backs turned? I need to protect myself."
Buckell was as good as dead? Carver suppressed an incredulous laugh. Buckell had been under Norton's command and whim for the last four years. And that was the kind of send-off he deserved? Since he was more attuned to it, he heard the selfishness in Norton's final words. The least Norton could do was to fake concern for his crew. It hurt to see the trust that had been built up over years and countless missions disintegrate.
"Well?" Norton's impatience burst the word between them.
Carver had not fully severed the ties that bound them. Maybe he would never be able to. Fact was, the group needed Norton; Norton needed the group. It was as simple as that until the situation changed. For survival, they had to stick together. Carver freed the gun, placing it in Norton's hand.
Norton partially unzipped his flight suit to slip the gun out of sight. "You've done the right thing."
"Don't waste those bullets, sir." Then turning toward the chamber, he said, "We might need them for ourselves."
A/N: On a side note, I really am enjoying Carver's POV. It's not often you see a story written from his perspective. Please let me know any thoughts & concerns. Until next time. =)
