For those of you wondering when the prologue would come into play…here it comes.

CHAPTER 10: The Dead and Dying

Fear plagued this day. It was so thick the air reeked of it. And there was the smoke, a whole other matter that was smothering the life out of everything it touched.

The women and children, the keepers of the plantations, were being slaughtered one by one. Some lives were taken by flame, by smoke, and others by their fellow man.

Most of the governors who had sworn to protect both the people and the land of Herac were nowhere to be found. Those few who had been caught in the massacre at the plantations lie dead upon the ground.

The smallest number of the hierarchy of Herac, the crazies, was thriving, but only by their instinct to flee from danger. They cowered in their dark places of solace, bodies shaking like the leaves that hid them.

The largest force to be reckoned with on this day remained to be the fighters. Their numbers were also dwindling but it was not by the very things killing so many of the other Heracs. What was killing the fighters had been pumping in their veins for far too long. Now that they were away from their domain, they no longer were able to supplement their need to replenish themselves through the berries and water of their habitat. Those berries and water contained a natural poison. It was withdrawal that would bring death upon the fighters.

Soon, there would be nothing left but ashes and fading memories.

-------o-------

The two sets of small tracks had led him to a small clearing and now he stood staring up into a tree that seemed to stare back.

To his left stood the ghost. Like a fly buzzing around one's head, the ghost would not retreat. He snarled at it.

He looked back up into the tree to find the two sets of eyes that had been so ominously blinking back at him were now gone.

Not that it mattered. They'd been playing this little game of cat and mouse for over an hour now. Sheppard flashed a smile at the ghost.

"Time's on our side, buddy." He said with a dark twinkle in his eye. His gaze then shifted to the trees again, seeking out any sign of the two boys he had been tracking thus far.

The ghost remained silent and still. In the back corner of his mind, this sudden silence disturbed Sheppard. It had not spoken since his outburst. The expression upon its pale face was unreadable. Sheppard could not discern whether it was an expression of scrutiny, disgust, or discontent. Whatever it was, the ghost did not like what it was seeing.

"What, you don't approve?" Sheppard thought he caught a glimpse of movement far off in the underbrush. A moment later, a small brown critter scurried into an underground hole.

Searching the ground at his feet to pick up the trail again, Sheppard noted the continuing silence from the ghost. Taking in a deep breath, he proceeded forward, ghost in tow.

Half an hour later, they had come to another stand still, but this time, Sheppard detected something different. Men were headed their way: many men, racing, growling, and hungered. The fighters…his brethren! He had nearly forgotten them in his mad trek to find his new targets.

Sheppard waited for them in eager anticipation. The ghost at his side stood like an obedient dog.

In a sudden woosh of buffeted air, the first line of men rushed past him, paying him no attention. Realization sunk in and Sheppard knew where they were headed. Like him, these men were seeking the last of the survivors from the plantations: the boys. Sheppard lowered his chin, smiling with the anticipation of the hunt.

He turned momentarily to the ghost, before rushing off to join the fighters in their quest.

"See you in the afterlife, my friend."

--o—

As Sheppard began to overexert himself, a transformation took place. The anger began to dissipate, gradually being filled up with guilt and resentment. Random flashes of memory began to plague his mind, with no meaning or connection to make sense of them. His body was beginning to show signs of the stress tolled upon it as well. His muscles were strained, his lungs were burning, and his eyes were watering.

He needed relief. He needed water.

--o--

Hurried footfalls thudded across the terrain, trampling vegetation to mulch. They were gaining speed in their mad rush towards their unseen target.

Sheppard could almost feel the heat radiating off of the fighters on either side of him. His own heat-ravaged body cried for relief, savoring every bit of coolness to the rushing air beating across his body as he ran.

It was sudden when it happened. He nearly stumbled because of it. The fighter on his right must have tripped on some underbrush. Sheppard slowed, glancing back to see if the man would get back up. When he didn't, Sheppard slowed, turning halfway as others sped past him. They either didn't see the man fall or chose to ignore him. As men rushed past, their gazes focused on a single purpose, Sheppard weaved among them to reach the fallen man. At the moment, he did not know why he cared, but nonetheless, he knew it was the right thing to do.

His heart pounded harshly against his chest. The rumbling of the passing fighters filled his ears. Sheppard breathed heavily as he came upon the man. The next intake of air stalled and hitched in his throat. Unbelieving eyes rested upon the pale features of the fallen fighter. The man's mouth hung agape. His brown eyes an empty void staring up to the sky. Sheppard lowered cautiously to one knee, placing a hand upon the man's chest to feel for life all the while his eyes scanning the fighters racing by to ensure they didn't plow into them. There was only stillness. He blinked several times, disbelief spreading across his hardened face.

They'd left him behind: the men racing all around him. Not a single one had paused. Left behind like a memory to be forgotten. Sheppard swallowed hard, bile rising in his throat.

Another thud, this time ending with a solid crack disrupted his pause and his eyes shot up to witness another fighter lying not too far from the first. Body deathly still, eyes vacant, head connected with a boulder jutting from the soil.

Another man left behind.

Sheppard began to search frantically for reason as each charging fighter passed him by without so much as a glance in his or the dead men's direction. And then, as if in a nightmare climbing to the dizzying heights of madness, more bodies began to fall. Shock paralyzed him and he could do nothing but watch.

One man fell, his feet flipping into the air in an almost graceful sweep. Another fell and the man close behind him came stumbling down as well. That man got up, slowly, and upon gaining speed, never stole a glance back. More men fell, each time, being carelessly stepped over by those whose hearts still beat to the drum of battle.

Without so much as a thought, Sheppard stood abruptly. A harsh impact thrust his shoulder back, but he felt little to no pain and his feet stayed rooted to the ground. He vaguely registered that another fighter had nearly collided with him. He was sure that fighter was still running; face forward and determined.

He felt as if he were in a nightmare, his senses suddenly dimming. His hearing buzzed, his sight blurred, and a tingling sensation rushed throughout his body ending at his fingertips and toes.

A sudden raging fire erupted within, dancing across his veins, passing through his wildly beating heart. Muscles involuntarily cramped and he curled his fingers and arms towards his chest. He released a howl of pain as the agony of it enveloped him, both physically and emotionally. Never before had he experienced such raw sensation of any kind.

The jungle faded momentarily, a black veil claiming his vision. He stumbled, struggling to maintain balance. A thought trailed through his muddled mind then. What if the poison was making its final assault on his body, as it had the men surrounding his feet in the waist-high brush of the jungle? If this was the end, he wanted nothing more than to welcome it with open arms.

In the onslaught of an exhilarating rush he felt a tingling surge of adrenaline course his veins. He felt refreshed, his mind cleared to the point of crystal clarity. He found himself facing the direction the others were headed once more. It was as if there was an invisible hand prodding him forward. He found his body turning to join in the charge into battle without him consciously commanding it do to so. His feet began to move and his focus slid from the dead to the living. The last of the fighters were now clearing the area around him and the air was beginning to settle.

Before he could stop himself, he was running forward into the depths of the jungle. Screams and chants met his ears and he knew those at the front had found their target. His heart surged in anticipation. He was eager to send the enemy to an early grave. Releasing a gut-wrenched cry, he rushed forward.

The dead could wait.

--o--

With no evident source of water to replenish them, the fighters were quickly losing ground. The heat of the jungle was suffocating them.

Sheppard had fallen to the back of the group and was quickly losing the battle to stay upright. His blinding rage that had pushed him forward to join the others had dwindled just as fast as it had begun.

He veered off to the right as a wave of disorientation prevailed. He quickly found himself alone.

He stumbled forward through a thicket of trees. His heart beating so loud he was sure the others would hear it. He grasped at branches and trunks as he forced his feet onwards. He came to another clearing in the forest, this one void of fighters dead or alive. Heaving in a large gulp of seemingly thinning air, Sheppard came to a wavering halt. His vision darkened and he collapsed face first onto the soft blanket of grass beneath him.

The ghost appeared beside him from nothing but the thinning air. The face was familiar to him, but he struggled to put a name to it. He felt a soft touch on his shoulder, but it was more of the sense of pressure than anything.

"Fight it, son."

Confusion settled across Sheppard's face as he blinked heavily, fighting to stay conscious.

His heart stumbled a few beats and the rush of blood came to his ears. Sheppard obligingly gave in to the sweet allure of darkness. A fading smile of content came to rest upon his chapped lips.

--o—

He woke in a clearing, unable to recall much of anything.

After realizing that something was amiss, he took haste and fled, sensing an unknown enemy heading in his direction. The ease in which he was able to sense this was quite peculiar, but he figured there was another time to figure that out. All he knew now was to get to safety, wherever that may be. He ran and ran until he came to a small field of tall grass, wavering gently in the breeze. A slight hint of burnt wood hovered in the air. Sheppard came to an abrupt stop.

There was something lying nearby, still as stone. A body. Sheppard took a few more steps and found another. He walked to the center of the field, turning in a slow circle and came to a shocking realization. He was standing amongst a field of the dead.

Had he been here before?

He felt something oily upon the palm of his hand. Staring down at his hand, he saw a smear of white and green. Where had that come from? His confused eyes traveled to his bare chest, mottled with bruises, dirt, and sweat.

What the hell?

His heart was pounding erratically in his chest and he had the vague sensation of light-headedness.

What had happened to all these men?

And where was his team?

-------tbc-------