Chapter 9 – Petals of a Flower

He hadn't noticed how beautiful it was until the sun had begun setting. The orange and yellow lights streamed into the cabin from the balcony. The purple mallow hung cheerfully from the thin vase on the counter next to him. Its purple veins upon gentle, white petals drew away from the pistil and glowed a vivid violet, illuminated by dusk rays. He couldn't help but take a moment and admire the elegance despite its breezy drifting upon the stem supporting it from below.

His assault rifle on the wall behind him, the small folder sat on the countertop before him. His clothes were still dirty. The splint holding up his arm was annoying. There were other cuts on his hands and arms that he hadn't attended to. It didn't make much difference to him – a few more tattoos didn't bother him. His shoulder, however, hurt more than he would've liked.

He wanted to take a shower to alleviate the pain, but Alphard was still in the bathroom. Not like it mattered - he wouldn't be able to bathe himself without her dressing the wound with more care than he could manage with a single arm. For the time being, he would just have to go without a shower.

There was a considerable stack of papers in the folder. Though the edges of most were burnt and the surfaces were marked by dirt, they were legible enough. He started at the top, separating them on the counter page by page and skimming through the content that weren't faded or that weren't written in technically indecipherable language. They seemed to be about some chemical – phases of experimentation, trials, properties, and results. He understood most of it but was perplexed as to why a group of bandits would be carrying such confidential information. One portion of a page provided some clues as to what exactly he was looking at –

XBLK03 Phase Manipulation (#14)

Adverse effects of model XBLK03 – otherwise known as "Ua" are tentatively unknown and, as per empirical regulations, must be thoroughly tested for inconsistencies. Early stage manipulation can be facilitated by potency levels of synthesized materials (10 X 3.2^11 parts per thousand for every cell of communicable disease – see Property & Structural Analysis Report). Faculty and cognitive processes are limited to departmental delegation and must be further examined by experts for results following operational benchmarks. Any and all information, as reported by independent agencies regarding observational inquiries, are listed below:

Consequences remain unfounded. Any effects after injection renders subject's locomotion lethargic or sporadic. Consistent results have yet to be seen.

Rotary function may be voluntary but insofar as subject's rationale permits. Subsequent behavior may be affected by, but is not limited to, asphyxiation, anaphylaxis, hemoptysis and/or hyphema, convulsions, decline or removal of respiratory function, self-harm by trauma, cardiovascular palpitations/failure, epileptic restrictions, and clinical death. Some symptoms may prevail over others.

Biological barriers/redundancies are hijacked and thrown in disarray. Corporal reactions common in chronic diseases, such as COPD (respiratory detriments) and Multiple Sclerosis (cognitive/physical stress), are triggered and overwhelm host. Properties of prototype are akin to epidemic symptoms; leukocyte numbers spike. Antivirus adapts, mimics genetic faculties, and eludes engagement. Subject definitively suffers from hypersensitive thresholds and own biological defenses.

XBLK03 behaves with virus-like efficacy. Coagulation have been seen in all trials as reactionary measure after injection. Antivirus immediately terminates after host expires.

Episode duration is unknown. Subject disposition and dosage are pertinent factors and are being evaluated for consequential effects.

Failed subjects, labeled "Unblooms," are targeted as objective malfeasance to exposure of XBLK03. Recent disappearance constitutes as dysfunctional consequence of prototype. Rationalizing seemingly unaffected survivors, known as "Borners," should rest in the domain of genetic predisposition to resistance. Presence of anomalies remains topic for further research…

The entirety of the documents were written in similar language, making it quite bothersome for him to read. It was all a bit much for him, not because he wasn't apt to that kind of technicality, but because he felt too drained to fatigue himself further. Some of the pages had photos on them depicting a black and violet skin discoloring which he'd rather not see much more of.

One thing he did understand was that a group of bandits traveling through the desert shouldn't have documents of the sort. Either they were scheming some kind of heist or they had connections in high places.

He stacked one paper atop another and placed them back in the manila folder. At the same moment, Alphard emerged from the bathroom in her black sweats, basking in steam and vapor. Her hair was wet and stringy. After drying her head with a towel, she wrapped the strands in a bun behind her head with a single needle. She saw the folder on the counter and grew curious.

"What's that?" she asked, eyeing the folder intently.

"Some documents I found in the debris before I came back." He didn't see a reason to hide it from her. She was probably going to find out regardless.

"What's it about?"

"An antivirus."

She immediately was disinterested. "Why would bandits have something like that on them?"

"I'd like to know the answer myself" Siam remarked while turning around on his stool. "But I don't think it's anything to worry about."

"How's your shoulder?" It was odd seeing him injured. A few cuts and scars were routine, but not a splint and bandages covering half of his upper body.

"It could be better" he replied while trying to roll his shoulder. He strained it and only caused himself more pain.

"Let me take care of it."

"I think I should give it some time before I-"

"Like you could properly dress a gunshot wound with one hand. Let me see it and then I'll leave you alone."

He smiled a little and shook his head, appalled. After a few seconds of looking at the ground, he finally lifted his head in approval.

"Alright" he muttered quietly.

Run.

That was the only word running through her mind. She didn't understand what was happening. Rationalizing the situation proved much too difficult, especially when everybody else seemed to be scurrying about mindlessly. She didn't know where she was going.

Chaos abounding.

Gunshots lit the air tantamount to fireworks celebrating some eventful occurrence. She could hear bullet shells hitting the ground in ragtag succession. Bumping into taller adults was a hectic hindrance, but one that she had to deal with since they were all running for their lives.

Step by frantic step, she hurried along the dusty sidewalk, hoping that she'd get to the edge of town before she ended up like the people on the ground. They had stop moving.

The lady running with her was something like a mother. She hadn't known her for long, but she cared for her. They dodged bullets while maneuvering the streets and people. When they passed an alley on their left and street on their right, a patrol of militia flanked the wall of the building a few meters from where they were fleeing. They marched into the street, yelling orders at one another, and began firing in the direction they had just fled. Canaan and the lady with her hugged the wall of a building some ten meters ahead, sitting down momentarily to regain their breath.

Breathing heavily, Canaan peeked around the wall at the militia. They were mowed down faster then she'd have thought. Many of them, realizing the absurdity of their resistance, began retreating, some of them dropping their weapons and falling in line with those fleeing. The rest were slaughtered in the middle of the street by the stampede of bullets ringing and echoing, appearing to never fully subside before another person was killed.

One of the militia, however, was still firing from his position against the wall, allowing many civilians to past the avenue and escape through innumerable alleys. While reloading, he caught glimpse of her beige-white hair, fully distinguishable among the bullet volleys streaming through the air. He waved his arm fiercely and moved his mouth fervently; Canaan couldn't understand anything with the loud sounds. It didn't take long before she couldn't hear him at all – instead, she heard the sound of an explosion as a rocket was blasted into the building where he took cover. Blood sprayed the air before debris crumbled upon the remains of his body.

The pandemonium was overwhelming. Fumes of smoke enveloped the air. The drummer-like gunshots continued their kill sprees.

"Can you keep going?" the lady sputtered at a frantic pace.

Canaan nodded.

They stood, peeked around the wall, and ran for cover when the shooters were distracted. Canaan caught a glimpse of the marauders destroying their town – it seemed like something out of some children's horror story which lasted far too long.

They were similar to human dolls. The oversized masks were three times the size of their heads. Adults throwing childlike tantrums with guns and explosions, all while disguised in otherwise normal getups.

They ran across the street, avoiding the bullets which streamed past them, and slipped through an alley traversing two streets. When they emerged, they were met by a blast, rubble, and shrapnel as a rocket decimated the building in front of them. They were thrown backward and covered by rocks half their size.

Canaan was the first to get up. She rolled from underneath the carnage, coughed, and searched for the lady that was with her. After rummaging through the rocks, Canaan found her with a bloodied arm and a gash that covered the length of her chest.

"Hey!" Canaan called, "You're OK! Just let me get you-"

She shook her head.

"What can I do to help?..." Canaan muttered, deceived.

"It's alright. You just need to get going! Hide!"

"But…I can't jus-"

"Your grandpa wouldn't want something bad to happen to you. That should give you reason enough to keep going. Please…"

She couldn't look at her face any longer knowing that she was going to leave her there. She stood and ran away. She didn't know where she was going. She just couldn't turn back.

The gunplay came from every which direction. Evading the destruction was tedious since it sounded like nowhere safe. When she was about to turn the sidewalk, she noticed one of them, a few meters to her right on the adjacent street, carrying an RPG on his shoulder. The mask was the last thing she caught glimpse of before she scurried in the opposite direction. She heard the sound of the rocket launch, the subsequent explosion, and the clatter of debris as the building was blown apart.

She saw an open doorway to an emptied apartment. With nowhere else to run, she entered and hid in a dark corner where they might not see her. From her position, she could see outside the windows as the bullets flew past in glowing trails and as rockets left their fumes lingering in the air. She covered her ears with her hands, trying not to hear the drone of war. Muffed, she heard the sound of screaming, though not in any kind of fear, but with determination. It was probably more militiamen attempting to push back the marauders ravaging the town.

She watched as some of the shooters walked past the entryway, firing their weapons with unstopping trigger fingers. She shook helplessly.

A grenade was tossed on the sidewalk in front of the entrance. The explosion littered her with searing shrapnel and scattering dirt. At that juncture, she couldn't hear anything but a ringing in her left ear and the muffled sound of bullet fire. She smacked her hand against her ear several times to see if she could make it go away. Futile.

She heard the sound of several orders yelled out from her other ear, along with what must have been truck wheels rolling on sand. A loud scream emanated from outside, whistles and thrust from projectiles launching, explosions riddling the streets. A small missile zoomed past the entryway and exploded down the street. Another blew a sizable hole in the building in front of her, killing several of the masked men.

When the sound finally came back to her ear, her relief was short-lived as a missile obliterated the wall on her left. A jolt preceded by crumbling foundations plastered her against the wall, pain suddenly invaded the entirety of her body, and she blacked out. The sound of screaming bullets was replaced by her own screaming when she realized she was buried in darkness. Her voice was so loud, yet it felt like no one else could hear her.

The worst feeling. Wailing in the dark, unknowing whether or not she was the only one who could hear her own screams.

She woke up screaming.

"Canaan!"

Holding herself up with her shaking hand, she realized that she was laying on the couch back at the cabin. Her breathing shifted from hyperventilating to heavy breaths and, eventually, to a normal pace. It was only then that the gunshot wound she had sustained throbbed throughout her torso. She lifted her shirt to see her abdomen wrapped in heavy bandages.

"Could you make any more noise?" Alpha joked, sitting on the armchair of the seat in front of the table.

Canaan wanted to respond but she only let out a strain when she tried to speak. She was hurting a lot.

"Don't move too much. You'll only make it worse" Siam advised with a cautious tone.

She struggled anyway. It took much effort and pain just to displace her legs from the couch and set them on the floor. Siam observed silently. Alpha looked at her as if to say, "why are you putting yourself through more pain?" It didn't matter to her what she did: she was determined not to be limited to a couch, even if there was a hole in her abdomen.

"You really should go back to sleep, little girl" Alpha suggested. "You're not going to be doing anything too strenuous anytime soon."

…

"Hey, don't get mad at us. You should be mad at the dead guy who shot you."

Siam shook his head. "There's no point."

"If she wants to be a punk and play the blame game, I don't mind giving her a few pointers" Alpha remarked with a snarky look on her face.

"I'm not in the best shape myself. We won't be rendering any services for a while."

"I'm not mad about that…" Canaan stated under her breath.

"Then what is it?"

"Why is it so dark in here?" Canaan demanded, looking at both of them quietly. The faded orange of the setting sun's rays left the cabin barely lit. The left side of their bodies were covered in shadows while the other side glowed with whatever light slipped through the balcony. Alpha stared at Siam questionably. He responded by gesturing toward a nearby light switch with a tilt of his head. After turning on the switch, they heard her groan, though she tried her best not to make her pain obvious to them.

"Wow…this thing hurts more than I would've thought" Canaan noted, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

"What'd you expect?" Alpha questioned bluntly.

"I can honestly say that I like getting beat up by you more than this."

Alpha smiled. "I don't mind accommodating your preferences."

"I'd rather not." She strained in an attempt to get up, but only fell back on the cushion, unable to trump the pain.

"What were you dreaming about?" Siam asked.

"It was more like a stream of bad memories than a dream…"

Alpha eyed Siam. "Maybe it was the needle. That stuff can take people on trips, I'm sure."

He shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "I wouldn't be surprised. They probably have the potential to make subconscious experiences more vivid, more so than normal."

"Why were you so scared of the needle?" Alpha tried.

"I…I-"

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"No, no. I just…I guess it's because I changed after my first time."

"Your first time?" Alpha snickered, smiling.

"Get your mind out the gutter" Siam commanded, annoyed.

"She's the one who phrased it like that!" she exclaimed with a grin on her face.

"You know what she meant."

She sucked on her teeth, scratched the back of her head, and crossed her arms, still smirking.

"What happened?" Siam asked.

"I started seeing in color."

~ O ~

"What does that mean?" Siam asked.

Canaan stared at the trees shuttering from across the balcony. The otherwise green leaves were shadowed black as the sun was eclipsed below the horizon. After nearly losing herself in the fading color, she sat back, so as not to aggravate the wound, and started:

"It's not like I don't see the same way that everybody else does. It's just that I pick up on things that other people can't really see, I guess."

"How's that?"

"It's hard to describe. Why do you want to know so much, anyway?"

"I'll let Siam give the default answer" Alpha stated expectantly.

Siam scratched his head. "We should know about the people we fight with."

"Voilà."

Several seconds passed before Canaan resumed.

"You guys use your senses to process things around you, right?

"I suppose" Alpha surmised.

"From whatever you guys sense, you make a decision, conscious, trained, or instinctual. Well, I'm the same way except I don't think my senses work the same way as yours."

"Meaning?"

"I may not perceive things in the same sense that you guys do."

"When your eyes change?" Siam prefaced.

Canaan nodded. "I get the feeling that my environment is cloaked in shadows, everything is, like, pinprick sensitive, and I process sti…stimu…"

"Stimuli?" Alpha corrected.

"Yeah, whatever. This may not make much sense, I guess, but I think I hear smells…smell sounds…taste damage…and see emotions as a type of aroma. I don't really get it and sometimes no sense remains or interacts the same way, but I can only go off of what I feel."

Alpha had a priceless reaction on her face: a mixture between utter bewilderment and total dismissal, mixed with a pinch of humor. Siam, on the other hand, was rationalizing each word she said as objectively as possible, though he had plenty of anecdotal evidence from having watched and trained her.

"Synesthesia" he concluded.

"Synea-what?" Alpha spouted.

"I wouldn't use it as a blanket term until I see more of it, but it sounds about right. It happens to people more than they know. It's especially present in language, like with metaphors, though people may go through it more than usual with altered states of consciousness."

"How so?" Alpha questioned.

"Things like 'I thought I was staring death in the face.' In reality, we presume there's no grim reaper with a scythe. To that person, however, whatever they went through might have felt that way, though we consider it a near-death experience. In any case, it's just a metaphor."

"Anything else?"

"Smells and tastes have a tendency to be directly associated with images. Tasting a strawberry might trigger romantic images for one person or forgetful memories for someone else; some people say they can tell the weather by how it smells outside instead of strictly using their sight. Those things are only subjective but do show a direct relation between taste, smell, and imagery, specifically recollection."

"What do those things have to do with her?" Alpha tried, wanting to get a viable explanation.

"I wouldn't be surprised if soldiers have a tendency to experience it more than other people do. Gunfire, explosions, trauma…especially for someone caught in the thick of combat, the line between the five distinct senses may not be as separate as for others."

Canaan listened intently, trying to see if she could relate to anything he was saying. Alpha was skeptical, leaning against the counter, tapping her feet alternately.

"Gunpowder might become associated with taste and smell instead of the actual substance, others might vividly perceive bouts of gunfire, despite the breakneck velocities, others still might perceive certain instances, such as shooting another person, with a feeling or sound, instead of the actual event, which may play back over and again."

"So you're saying that's what's happening to her?"

"It's not definitive, and isn't for any particular soldier, or person for that matter. From what I've seen of you, especially with your less than friendly skirmishes with Alphard, I'm assuming it has something to do with the situation you find yourself in."

"What kind, specifically?" Canaan inquired.

"Well, you should be telling us that."

"I…I don't know why or when it happens…my eyes change when I need them to."

"So it's not voluntary" Alpha stated, "for the moment, at least."

"Whether or not you can trigger it of your own volition, I'm going to presume it reacts in conjunction with your sympathetic system."

"So whenever she's stressed out, her eyes change?"

"Yeah. Specifically at the release of epinephrine, you experience synesthetic-like events. Epinephrine, sometimes called adrenaline, is a neurotransmitter known to increase heart rate, blood pressure, and, ironically enough, alter vision…"

Canaan's face seemed to frustrate further. She seemed deceived to some degree. Taking into account her change in disposition, Siam continued:

"…though we don't know for certain, and you don't seem to know much about it, either."

"Her chances of kicking my ass seem to increase when her eyes change" Alpha remarked. "Whatever you're seeing, feeling, or whatever, can certainly be a combat advantage. You said that it all changed after you were injected with something. Do you have any idea what it was?"

Canaan shook her head. "That was a long day and a long time ago."

"My advice to you is if you want to stay without the synesthetic episodes, then take it easy and keep your emotions in check. That's about all I ca-"

"You talk about my eyes like they're a bad thing" Canaan let out, her voice angry.

"I never said that, Canaan."

"Well, maybe you should just say it instead of trying to hide it!"

"Hide what?"

"You don't like my eyes, do you? You think that I might start losing sight of things. You think that this only happens when my emotions get the best of me, don't you?"

Siam didn't respond. He simply looked her in the eyes while her anger mounted. Alpha, on the other hand, took a somewhat aggressive pose near the counter. She knew that she couldn't do much with her injury, but thought her presence was enough to extinguish her flaring emotions.

"Nobody said anything about your eyes" Alpha responded, brows furrowed and voice stern. "So why don't you relax a little…"

"Don't think that I can't see clearly! That I can't be a good soldier when I'm worried, sad, frustrated, or pissed! I can see perfectly fine!"

They hadn't changed completely. Nonetheless, he could see the crimson swirls twirling. They danced, ready to envelop her eyes in brilliant color. Her face was livid. She obviously had a connection with her synesthesia because of how she acquired it or for the abilities it gave her. He could in no way relate and didn't try to – he only wanted to understand. With the way her emotions sparked and her eyes kindled, he understood enough.

"I don't doubt it" Siam declared. "I just hope that the colors and the clarity don't blind you."

He stood up slowly, walked toward the door, and exited, walking down a few steps. He didn't feel like saying or doing anything but smoking a cigarette.

Alpha didn't stay in the living room too long after Siam had left. She went into the refrigerator, removed some cranberry-raspberry juice, poured herself a huge glass, drunk it down, and went to her room after putting the juice and glass away. She was tired and wanted to call it a day. Canaan heard the sound of her sweats swishing away, the door opening, and finally closing.

She was left alone. When she had calmed down, the pain returned as vigorous as before and left her couch-ridden.

The worst feeling. Not knowing whether or not there were too many words said, not enough in the first place, any right ones, or none at all.

"You said you wanted to train, so don't complain."

"This…totally…sucks!" Canaan spouted.

He ignored her. He was sitting on the counter, counting up all the money they had received doing dirty work.

Alpha was sitting on the counter opposite Siam in the kitchen. She had one knee atop the other and her hair down, curling her fingers in the strands on the side of her head while watching Siam. Whenever she'd glance over to the balcony, she'd see the girl doing a prolonged handstand, struggling all the while. Her face was dripping with sweat, her arms were wobbly, and her legs would sway randomly. She gasped for air when she needed it. The blood rushing to her head would eventually overwhelm her.

Endurance was a heavy price to pay in the name of training.

"How much money we got?" Alpha asked, staring at the stacks near his arm.

"Doesn't matter."

"Then what are you counting for?"

"To see how many services we've given."

"We haven't done that many since the girl tagged along."

"Yeah, but we've been charging a fixed rate from the same clients for a while now. Not that it's a small reward, but we've been doing tedious work more than usual."

"So the money is just a way to keep track of how many jobs we've done?"

Siam Nodded. "There are reasons for maintaining relationships with clients other than money. The currency is just an affirmation. I've been around too much not to keep in contact with people I've worked for. Plus, they provide supplies that purchasing power may not always furnish, especially in relatively unstable regions like this one."

"So, we work with shady characters on a 'friends with benefits' basis? Besides the friendly part, of course."

"That's a simple way to put it. They're good bargaining chips. Besides those we've lost, we've gotten a majority of our weapons because our clients were kind enough to provide them. It's only because the guy that lived here before kept stockpiles of weapons that we've been able to stay here without worrying about munition. Plus, if a certain client required a long distance job, they often times find ways to facilitate our travels, even if it is across borders."

"Well, you're talking like you have connects everywhere we need them" Alpha stated while scratching an itch on her leg.

"Twenty more seconds" Siam ordered.

Canaan would've confirmed but only let out a small squeal. At least he hadn't forgotten about her.

He returned to what Alpha said. "We have more than you know about. Before I met you, I was getting by with off-hand employment. I've been through more jobs than I'm proud of. So, yeah, I know a few people."

"Can they be helpful sometimes?"

"We provide services. There's no favors being rendered. Although, if the situation calls for it, some strings might be pulled in order for things to go smoothly. That's it."

"If you say so" Alpha concluded.

"No, I meant for Canaan."

Immediately, she purposefully lost her balance, tipping herself forward and landing on her back. The impact was actually relieving; it was much better than her lactic acid-filled arms suffering through anymore of what Siam labeled "endurance." She breathed and breathed, regaining her composure and letting her body finally relax.

Alpha removed herself from the countertop and exited the kitchen, walking leisurely into the living room area. Siam set the money aside and turned around on his stool so that he was facing Canaan.

"Glad you're feeling better" Siam remarked.

"I…can't feel…my arms…" Canaan let out in between pants.

"Your wound, I mean."

"Hu…huh?"

"You wouldn't have been able to stay up that long if that injury was still hampering you."

"Oh. So you weren't training her. You were seeing if she's O.K." Alpha murmured.

"Something like that."

"Well, two weeks' time isn't too long considering how bad that injury was"

"I'm certain that you suffered through a lot of pain maintaining your balance. Don't sleep on your stomach tonight." He smiled a little. "You'll feel it in the morning."

She felt like she'd been exploited. "I hate it when you guys tease me!"

"Hate is a strong word" Siam reminded.

"I dislike it when you guys make a fool out of me!" she adjusted.

"You're the one who wanted to train" Alpha chided.

"Yeah, but there's easier ways to ask if someone's feeling better!"

Siam couldn't help but to chuckle. Her complaints were amusing. Alpha had a smile on her face as well, snickering at her pain. When she realized how light-hearted the situation had become, she grinned and eventually laughed openly. It was nice to know that things didn't always have to be so tense; they could go off on tangents and amuse themselves, even if it was at her own expense.

But entertainment, no matter how blissful, is still a distraction.

The door to their cabin crashed open. A middle-aged man wearing a black t-shirt and track jacket, black shorts that had white stripes going down the sides, and white sneakers with a feline logo stumbled through the entryway. They hadn't heard the intruder running up the stairs while laughing at Canaan, though they did make up for it – Siam instantly drew his weapon and aimed at his forehead, Alpha removed her Five-Seven and pointed it at his mouth, Canaan equipped her Beretta and targeted his earlobe. If he tried anything, three bullets were guaranteed in his skull.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" the intruder begged.

"You should've knocked" Alpha menaced.

"No! Don't! Just wait a second!"

"Who are you?" Siam demanded. He motioned for Canaan to get up from the floor and get behind him and Alpha, which she did promptly.

"You know who I am, Siam!" he screamed.

"I'm not good with faces."

"Richard! Richard!" he announced.

"I've met a lot of Richards in my life and most of them are dead. You're going to have to give me more hints before you end up like them."

"Richard Gon!" He removed his sunglasses and put both his arms in the air. He was shaking, sweating, and more: his hairy right leg had an apparent stream going from his thigh down to his low-reaching socks. He was obviously panicked.

When his face was fully revealed, Siam recognized him.

"Rich...?"

"Sure! Now please stop pointing those things at me!" he pleaded sheepishly.

Siam looked at Canaan and Alpha and gestured for them to lower their weapons. Canaan responded warily. Alpha did so reluctantly.

"What are you doing here?" Siam questioned, lowering his gun to his side.

"Well, I came looking for help, though I got more than I expected."

He was a scrawny guy with a rectangular face and strong jawline. His thick brows seemed to always be furrowed upward. Strands of his hair flicked out randomly, demonstrating the mediocre quality of whatever gel he used. The forehead wrinkles on his head were deeply profound. He looked like a washed-up athlete since his frame was still somewhat lean, though he was atrophying at a considerable rate.

"How'd you find this place?"

"You must think I'm crazy if I don't know where my protégés are. I got eyes everywh-"

"Cut the shenanigans, Rich."

"Alright, I had some guys narrow down your location," he started in a more honest tone, "based off the media coverage in the area. There's only so many places to hide in the desert. Finding this location was easy once we figured the distance from certain suspicious incidents and nearby towns you might have gone through."

"Relax a little" Siam suggested.

Richard took his hands from the air and tried to put them in a comfortable position. Alpha took a towel from the kitchen and tossed it to him so he could clean himself up. He wiped his leg first then proceeded to wipe his face. Alphard was disgusted. Canaan grinned. Obviously, he wasn't too big on hygiene.

"Now, what do you want?" Siam interrogated.

His voice was shaky while speaking: "Things are falling apart…you know how I was planning on you coming to China so you could take care of those guys?"

"What about it?"

"There was a bad batch I was trying to get across the country and the authorities found out about it."

They both shrugged and simultaneously stated, "No big deal."

"That's not the problem" Richard resumed. "The problem is someone working for one of those syndicates back in China found out about it, sent a guy to check and confirm, then…"

"They got to you first" Siam deduced.

"A bunch of my guys got killed and they got a trace on several of my distributors…"

"What about you?"

…

"Wait a minute, so a bunch of your buddies were killed after some enemy cartel followed your stash? And now they're out to get the rest of your group, including you?" Alpha summarized.

"Look, it shouldn't have happened th-"

"It doesn't matter what happened!" Alpha exclaimed. "When you're infected with the plague, you don't spread it around to people who don't have it" She pulled back the slide on her gun. "I don't mind curing the root of the problem."

"Alphard, take it easy."

"But this guy is going to get us all ki-"

"We don't know if he was traced. If that's the case, then we can't do much about it since he's already here."

She tried to quell her frustration as best as she could.

"I told you to stop smuggling a long time ago, Rich" Siam reminded him after rubbing his face down. "You're not good at covering your ass."

"It was supposed to be routine!" he complained, his arms stretched out wide. "Nothing like this has happened before!"

"You're messing with somebody else's traffic. It's only natural that they would find you and make you scarce. You stopped smuggling intel a while ago. Why'd you get into narcotics?"

"It wasn't narcotics!"

"Pharmaceuticals?"

"Better!"

"There isn't much else besides synthetics. I'm sure you have a good market going in that direction."

"Nope! Even better!" His previously distraught demeanor was replaced by excited enthusiasm as they discussed the details of his "work." Canaan had taken a seat on the armchair of the sofa, one of her arms wrapped around her stomach. Alpha was leaning against the wall and tapping the handle of her firearm against the wall, irritably.

"We're talking about virulent agents!"

"I already told you to cut the crap, Rich."

"Viruses" he stated clearly. "Potent, tangible, raw. Producing strains of highly contagious material to serve as prototypes. Especially those that have psychoactive consequences, demand has been going up for highly-intelligent, but genetically susceptible viruses, some of which may not have even been discovered. Could you imagine the ramifications of a strain that has no trace? Ones that behave the same way as a normal cell would? Or maybe even one that can adapt, change, and evolve at a moment's notice? Even finding viruses that do no harm to human biology is in the running!"

"Yeah, but who's really going to buy something that complicated? The wrong person might get it, conflict could become biological, or somebody might fuck around and cause an epidemic."

"You couldn't be more wrong. The orders are actually kind of frightening, but we're indiscriminate - as long as the purchasing party can pay, we give them what they want. Though I will say that some of the people we've done business with weren't what we expected."

"It's not like the going prices for your products are cheap. Only certain people can afford what you offer. The agendas, however, are cause for suspicion."

"Our 'manufacturers' produce material that certain agencies, some of which are highly influential, desire to use for further research, redistribution, or manipulation. Of course, I can't say who for the sake of confidentiality."

"You're not worried about whose hands that sensitive material falls into?" Siam questioned.

He shrugged animatedly. "To each their own. I don't have the right to tell a customer what to do with what they buy."

"Yeah, but when you screw up with your business, you come running to us" Alpha interjected.

"What else was I supposed to do?"

Alpha rolled her eyes sarcastically before responding: "I don't know, maybe not come here?"

"You guys are the ones with the guns! It wouldn't kill you to make yourselves useful!"

"Actually, it might" Alpha retorted.

"What makes you so certain that they're after you?" Canaan asked.

"This." He pulled out a notecard. It had a friendly design, a stamp, and writing in Chinese symbols. It, however, was also marked in red pen, making it highly visible. The scribbled writing read:

DoN'T LeT uS fIND YoU AlIVe :)

Going the length of the card were several gun holes, affirming the note of the already endearing letter. He gave it to Alpha, who read it, chuckled, and walked toward the kitchen. She turned on the stovetop, waited for it to ignite, and set the postcard ablaze. Watching the previously pristine card char and cinder, she dumped it in the sink and extinguished it with water from the faucet. She was a little offended by the note on the card. The daring statement was a challenge, even if it wasn't specifically for her.

"So you want us to put you up for a while?" Siam demanded.

"Indefinitely, actual-"

"You know we can't do that, Rich" Siam interrupted. "The mercenaries you hire aren't bodyguards."

"I can make it worth your while!"

"Forget it. I don't feel like getting run through by some drug syndicates you pissed off and I'm probably not speaking just for myself. You can stay for twenty-four hours. Afterward, you're on your own. I suggest you start making some calls in the meantime."

Richard was obviously disappointed. Still, he settled with what he was told seeing that he couldn't do anything else. Staying there, no matter how short the duration, was safer than being anywhere else.

"There's frozen food in the freezer and plenty of juice in the fridge. You'll sleep on the couch. That's about all you need to know."

"Wait, what about guns?" he shuttered.

"We'd rather you don't have any weapons on you. That's our area of expertise." He stood and gestured for Canaan and Alphard to head toward the door. They followed behind him and left Richard standing in the lobby, alone.

"Wait!" he called out worriedly, "Where are you going? You're just going to leave me here?"

"I already told you to relax, Rich." He opened the door to the outside staircase. "No one's going to kill you while we're here."

~ O ~

"You know I don't like this, Siam" Alphard expressed, her voice annoyed.

"Neither do I. But we can at least oblige him until tomorrow."

They were sitting on the stairs, staring at the gorge in front of them and simultaneously listening to the gently rolling river. The clouds were scattered in streaking packs, puffing along at the wind's tug in column-like formations. It was another hot day. The desert had its way of making temperature a mundane routine. Be the weather as it may, they didn't feel the blaze while conversing on the wooden steps of the cabin.

"I thought you said we don't do favors for clients."

"Circumstances permit otherwise."

"So, we work with shady characters like that?"

"Was that your first time meeting a drug smuggler?"

"Well, yeah. You usually take care of business over the phone. I actually like that way more if most of our clients are as paranoid as him."

"And you're not?"

"When you can kill most people that get in your way, paranoia isn't much of a problem."

"Unless dangerous people are after your life. Case in point."

"That guy messed up my day. I was about to hit the sacks before he showed up."

"We probably won't be going to China, either. He was supposed to provide our access across borders, but since all his people are dead and he's on the run, we'll have to find our own way."

"Wasn't the job commissioned by him? Why do we still have to go?"

"We wouldn't be able to stay here for long until the militia or somebody else found us. We've caused too much trouble for us to get comfy. Reasonably so: killers like us can't stay in one place for too long." He chuckled a little. "Ghosts start to follow us around."

"Better enjoy it while it lasts…" she sighed and leaned her back against a step.

"Canaan."

"Yeah?"

"What did you find?"

"Nothing else besides some papers."

Siam had ordered Canaan to search the truck Richard had parked in front of the cabin. Aside from the fact that it was generally messy, there was nothing of interest. She searched the compartments near the wheel, the glove box, the back seats, the floors, the trunk, and the engine. There were a whole bunch of files detailing the most complicated crap concerning routes, distribution, specifications, and a load of other stuff she'd leave up to Siam to decipher. There were some paraphernalia in the center console. That was it.

She brought the papers to Siam. He skimmed through them carelessly until he found something that threw him off. Several pages detailing an antivirus – XBLK03, a prototype antivirus under research. The pages were lined with pictures of cell growth in petri dishes, arrows indicating the growth cycles, and text in small font that explained the process. Other pages dealt with logistics, as in how the material was obtained and from where. Probably the most disturbing item was the presence of that black, blooming deformity, the same one he had seen on the documents he had skimmed through earlier.

"Something's wrong here…" he muttered.

"What's up?" Alpha inquired.

"These papers are describing the same antivirus that the documents inside do…"

Alpha was immediately curious. The connection was too circumstantial.

"Unless Rich was messing around with those bandits, it's too unusual for them both to know about the same antivirus."

"Overlapping motives?"

"No. Rich just moves units. The bandits, however, had some kind of incentive to have this on them. We don't know what they were doing beforehand, but I have a feeling there were several strings attached. Traveling mercenaries wouldn't care about something like this if there was nothing in it for them."

"What's so important about this antivirus?" Canaan questioned. She took a seat on the step next to Alpha, sitting behind the other side of his shoulder.

"I don't know right now. This is just preliminary testing, although it's likely that this virus is being researched quite heavily. It's got me worried that Rich was getting involved with groups that have more motivations than just drugs and money."

"I can kill him if you want" Alpha suggested with a calm demeanor. "I mean, if he's that problematic, we can just do their job for them."

"I think one of these groups is trying to prevent something from happening. If killing Rich is part of doing so, then having him here might be more troublesome than I thought…"

"At least we have those papers, right?" Canaan reaffirmed. "If there is a connection, then it might all lead back to one place."

"In any case, he's staying with us for now. You two stay alert while he's here. I'll take him to a nearby town tomorrow. One way or another, we have to be rid of him. I just hope that whatever shit he's been doing hasn't already become our problem."

It was quiet.

Canaan looked out the window of her room, her elbow sitting on the windowsill. The moon was bright that night. Its glowing aura shuffled through the trees' leaves, splitting the lights into small pockets of light, some of which streamed onto the floor of her room.

Siam liked to add small accents to the cabin that contrasted his robust persona. A vase, half filled with water and the three stems it nourished, was on the table next to her, along with her Beretta. The petals of the wallows were downturned at the water which gave them life. The moonlight gave the water an alabaster, luminescent hue which flickered as the moon made its way across the sky. She moved the vase so that the petals faced the light and continued looking out the window, unable to sleep.

If she made any of the planks in her room creak even a little, she'd wake everybody up. It was odd that anyone was sleeping in the first place with the way that Richard guy snored.

It wasn't that she didn't like the tranquility. The quiet of that particular night was unsettling. Maybe it was because of that guy sleeping in their cabin. Anxiety had its way of creeping up on her when things didn't' seem right. Insomnia, instead, was the highlight of her night.

But not for long. Her worries weren't misplaced.

She heard the echo of churning. It grew louder and more profound until it was undeniable. When she stuck her head out the window, she saw a pair of headlights approaching from the south. Then another. And, of course, another.

She immediately grabbed her Beretta and headed for the door. Entering the lobby, she saw that Alpha and Siam were already preparing for what might happen. Alpha looked like she just woke up since her hair was a bit messy and not tied up behind her head like usual. She tossed Siam an assault rifle and went through their supplies. She attached two straps to her leg, one for holding some of her knives, the other for spare magazines. Her Five-Seven loaded, she placed a pin in her mouth, wrapped the strands at the back of her head in a loop, and inserted the pin.

Siam motioned for a now nervous Richard to climb down the latch. Eagerly, he descended the rungs and Siam shut the lapse. Canaan ran toward the weapons on top of the counter and grabbed a handful of magazines and a strap to place them in.

He gestured toward both of them with a finger over his mouth. He pointed at Canaan and then at the wall in front of the counter. She took cover there. He pointed at Alpha and then at the wall near the entrance. She placed her back against the wall and ducked, her firearm gripped casually in her right hand. He went toward the far side of the balcony, hiding behind the wall so as to see what was happening outside.

They kept a small light lit in the hallway. He gestured toward Canaan, pointed at the light, and did a swiping motion across his neck with his free hand. She killed the light.

They were in darkness.

~ O ~

He looked out the window and saw more armed men than he expected. They looked different from any militia or bandits they'd encountered. They were all dressed in black. Dark boots, dark cargo pants, unusual dress shirts, and some kind of facial guise, either a mask with occult decal or a half-faced fleece with carbon sunglasses. They lined up in front of the cabin with an arsenal of weaponry. One of them, obviously the honcho, stood at the end of the line, looked at the cabin mockingly, and gestured at the cabin with a casual stroke of his hand.

"Get down! Now!" Siam yelled.

The cabin was riddled with an onslaught of bullets. The balcony glass shattered, splinters were chipped, the T.V. was destroyed. Shrapnel and ricochet were as dangerous as the bullets which caused them. They obviously enjoyed the barrage since it dragged as long as their trigger happiness allowed. It continued until each shooter had emptied their magazine.

They heard the sound of shells hitting the floor and magazines being reloaded. Siam looked up after having covered his head against the ground. Alphard was scratching the back of her head in frustration. Canaan took it all in stride, analyzing the destruction that had become of the cabin.

At that same moment, a grenade floated into the cabin and rolled cheerfully against the wooden planks. They all looked at one another for what felt like several seconds until Canaan made the first move. She scurried toward the small green bomb, sprinted to her feet, ran into her room, and tossed the grenade out the window with the hardest throw she could manage.

The shooters outside saw as the trees next to the cabin were engulfed by a small explosion. The leaves were set ablaze. Branches fell in heaps of flame. Luminous embers with rosy afterimages floated and dissipated as the flames spread throughout what little green life was present.

Their previously tranquil habitat was anything but.

Canaan returned to her cover, breathing heavily. It was way too exhilarating having to dispose of what would have been a fiery death.

Siam stood and looked out the balcony. He saw that there were several shooters now coming up the stairs. He moved away from the direct path of the entrance and took cover beside Canaan.

One of the shooters was sent inside to investigate. He crept the door open and made meticulous steps on the creaky planks. It didn't take long before Alpha took him in a stranglehold, covering his mouth, and slit his throat with one of her knives. His body now limp, she shoved it in Siam's direction. He caught the body and dragged it where it could be more inconspicuous.

The rest of the shooters made their way inside when they realized their point man was taking too long.

They didn't see anyone.

They scoured every inch of the living area looking for their target. One of the shooters went into the kitchen and saw their dead comrade. Another opened the closet in front of the kitchen. He saw the flash of a string as it was exposed to the moonlight. A gun shot rang. It entered the side of his jaw. He backed away awkwardly, tried to cover his mortal wound, and subsequently slumped onto the floor. The firearm fell to the floor in front of the knob where the string was wrapped.

The shooters, now a bit panicked, yelled at one another to walk toward the rooms in the back. One of them took an awkward step over a plank that wasn't level with the others. He lifted the plank and found the latch.

He ordered two of the shooters to go down while the others entered the remaining rooms of the cabin.

One shooter entered Alphard's room. He didn't see anything. He, however, did feel something funny near his side. When he turned, he realized it was the barrel of a gun. A girl with jet-black hair shrugged apathetically before firing twice.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward her. When another two shooters frantically entered the room, they saw their wounded comrade standing awkwardly with tears falling from beneath his sunglasses. He was barely alive and only let out whimpers while his comrades tried to figure out what was wrong with him. It was only when they realized they were being exploited that his body was pushed forward suddenly, crashing into one of the shooters. Alphard quickly aimed her weapon at the doorway and shot the other one above his right eye.

The shooter, now mangled on the floor with a body on top of him, aimed his gun and shot three bullets through the entryway. He noticed the silhouette of an acrobatic stunt toward the inside wall, then, a second later, a handgun aimed directly at his face. The girl's dexterity would be his undoing.

Another bang rang throughout the cabin. The two remaining soldiers in the living room were then hammered by gunfire from Canaan, who had been waiting for Alpha to finish with the shooters she had engaged. She hit one of the shooters in the foot. He screamed and grappled to the floor, crawling for nearby cover. The other shooter returned fire with his rifle, lighting both rooms up with bullet holes. He didn't stop until his magazine was emptied. Canaan took that chance to peek and fire, putting two bullets into his chest and another into his neck. He fumbled around and fell over the armchair, resting his body on the couch.

The injured shooter on the floor took out a grenade, released the pin, and tossed it toward the rooms. Two seconds later, he watched helplessly as it rolled back into the living room. Alpha took cover in her room. Canaan hid behind the door of her room. The explosion blew the living room apart. One of the pillars, which held the cabin up, was slashed by the fires, compromising the integrity of the cabin. Alpha went into the kitchen, grabbed an extinguisher, and tried to control the fire as best she could. She couldn't let the cabin breakdown yet.

~ O ~

The shooters took a last step to the bottom. It was pitch black. One of them found the light switch. When he turned it on, he saw the iridescent flash of his killer, and was shot twice in the head.

The other shooter immediately started blasting away. Siam jumped out the way to avoid the bullet sweep. The shots rang throughout the bottom floor, lighting the dimly lit cellar with each flash of the muzzle. A scream was heard from the other side of the floor. He performed a clean sweep, never letting his finger off the trigger. Before the magazine emptied, he saw a figure approach him suddenly.

Siam hit the weapon from the bottom up in time to avoid a bullet that would have killed him. He rammed the shooter into the wall. They struggled with one another and forcefully jockeyed for position. The shooter wasn't budging. He noticed that Siam's shoulder was wrapped from underneath his shirt; taking advantage, he leaned most of his body into the left side of his rifle. Siam agonized but was relentless. Nevertheless, his shoulder proved disadvantageous. He let up on the arm, though his feet were still leveraging against the shooter's weight.

He received a kick to his spline. Successively, he was thrown backward and met with a melee from the butt of the shooter's rifle. He landed on the ground, disgruntled. He felt the blood and gash going down the side of his cheek; he didn't have the time to suffer when there was a barrel staring down his face.

He rolled over and avoided the bullet, subsequently tackling him back to the wall. The shooter slammed his rifle on his back ferociously. Siam lifted him off the ground and slammed him into another wall. He dropped the rifle and let out a gasp. The shooter responded by jerking his knee into his chest, forcing him to stagger backward.

They faced each other, taking a moment to compose themselves. They both raised their fists and glared at one another. Siam wiped the blood from the side of his face, though not before some leaked into his eye. The shooter was the first to engage.

He dodged a sweet punch and countered with one of his own. It hit the side of his face with jaw-dropping intensity. The shooter stumbled back. Vehement, he regained his posture and tried another volley. They exchanged parries, swipes, and blocks until Siam blasted him in the stomach, immediately following with a left to the other side of his face. The shooter bumbled about forcefully, but tried again. Siam demolished him with a right and probably gave him a concussion. Blood dripped onto the floor copiously. He could no longer stand straight and, obviously, no longer fight.

Realizing that there was little chance, he removed a firearm from his pocket and aimed at Siam's head. He punched the shooter to one knee when the bullet fired, pried the gun from his hands, and shot him dead. He threw the gun next to his body and stood for a moment, breathing, breathing, breathing.

"You O.K., Rich?" Siam questioned, recovering slowly.

"I think I should be asking you that…" He emerged from the back of the room, holding his bloodied arm.

"We'll get you patc-"

"I'm alright. Let's just get out of here."

"Siam!"

It was Alphard's voice.

"You need to get out of there! Now!"

~ O ~

"Hey!"

Canaan responded to her call.

"What is it?"

"Go check outside! If you see anybody, shoot them!"

"Gotcha!"

She ran to the staircase. When she looked at the trucks parked below, she saw a lone figure setting several bombs at the feet of the remaining pillars.

She aimed her gun and shot him several times. He fell over backward. She climbed down the stairs and approached his body, ever cautious.

It was only when she saw his hands up close that she glimpsed the remote. Even under the mask, she knew he gave a last smile.

"Oh, damn…"

Her eyes brewed crimson. She only had a few split seconds to react. There was nowhere to go.

There was always the river.

She took three steps.

Jumped.

And heard a click.

~ O ~

The cabin was falling apart. Siam and Richard arrived to a second floor filled with flames. Fire ate away at the cabin plank by plank, each instantaneously. The floor was being torn asunder; it tilted precariously, flames brewing in every which direction.

Siam frantically looked for an opening.

"There!" He pointed toward the entrance. "Go!"

Alphard was the first. Stumbling about and receiving burns all the while, she carved a route for Siam and Richard to follow.

Richard couldn't keep up. He was tripped up and trapped by falling flames near what was left of the kitchen.

"Richard!"

He screamed.

"Siam!" Alphard called, "Forget it!"

There was nothing he could do.

His screams propagated throughout the inferno and haunted with more spite than the flames could err.

"How the hell are we going to get through this!?"

"Jump!"

There was nothing else to do. She jumped through the fiery entryway, hoping that something good would happen.

Siam followed suit. Before he left the cabin for good, he thought he heard Richard call out his name.

They braced through blazing branches and landed on the ground, disheveled. Behind them, the cabin crumbled down, smothered the shooters' trucks in smoldering debris, and burned through their engines. The trucks exploded, lifting black fumes, fodder, and clutter into the air. Hot junk crashed down and splashed into the river.

Alphard and Siam escaped the fires and rested on the clear, sandy fermentation. Never had Alphard appreciated dusty, cold dirt more than she did while laying her body on that patch of moist ground. They both were charred, had cuts and burns, and were exhausted. Siam stared at what was left of the cabin as it burned away in the chilly, starry night.

His face was solemn and tired. Although the cabin's destruction was a hectic inconvenience, Alphard couldn't help but feel like he wasn't really shaken…

…as if he had been through it before.

"Where's the girl?" Alphard asked, managing to keep her voice temperate despite her being pissed.

"Did you see her?"

"I told her to check if there was anybody else out here. That was the last I saw of her."

"Then she's alright."

She felt somewhat appalled at his confidence in her survival. That kind of carnage wasn't the easiest to live through.

"How do you know that?"

"She's hard to kill. Kind of like you."

It was hard to take it as a compliment when she was being compared to her.

He stood up, dusted himself off, and began walking downstream. Alphard was flattered that after all the combat and wreckage they just went through, they'd have to go and look for the girl. They hadn't even rested for five minutes before he was on the move.

"Damnit, Siam…"

She stood up, dusted herself off, checked to see if she still had her Five-Seven, and followed in his weakened stead.

"Why can't we just give ourselves a minute before looking for her?" she complained.

"Shutup and walk."

She let out a highly audible moan to let him know how frustrated she was. Tilting her head back and sulking, she looked into the sky and saw all the stars shining against their galactic plaster. Their light was a lot different from the fires they ambled past – so much more admirable, so much more dignified, so much more distant. She noticed that she had stepped on what looked like burnt, purple petals while following him. She picked one up, watched as it turned to ashen dust between her fingers, and dissipate. How unfortunate.

It must have been a pretty flower.