Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Author's Note: Apologies for being so very, very late, I could make a hundred excuses, but I shan't... On with the show!

Having stormed away from Squall in an incredulous huff, Rinoa returned sulkily, in the ominous gloomy dark Balamb had been cast in, back to their, no, her house near the harbour. It seemed all Squall did these days was spend time back in his bachelor pad, which he laughingly called his Commander's Quarters. Unaware of the danger that was looming, she walked with her head held haughtily high, ignoring what was around her, determined to get home.

As soon as she reached her door, she dug into her handbag for her keys, and wrenched the door open.

Switching on the lights, and ignoring the many photographs of Squall and herself in happier times, lining the mantelshelf and the walls, Rinoa headed for the phone.

She rummaged desperately through her handbag which was already full of unnecessary items: receipts from months ago, tickets to see films long since available to buy, numerous pens, loose tissues, mints, gum, all items she thought she couldn't live without. Finally, upon emptying the contents of the bag onto the olive green shag-pile, Rinoa found what she had been looking for, the handsome police officer's phone number. She was so desperate to hear his voice. After poor Headmaster Cid's unforgivable murder, there were a few things, in her emotional state, that needed to be said. She removed the handset from its cradle, and dialed a number.

Sweaty hair slicked back, Ashley Bryce sat at his office computer, almost exhausted through the day's reports. Murder upon murder, death upon mysterious death. It was taking most of the manpower of the majority of the force, and in Rawlinson's absence, as Bryce had been told that afternoon, he was in charge of the case. He should have been pleased, as the next step was surely promotion to a Sergeant position, which is what he craved most of all, having been working so damn hard for the past five years! However, happiness was the furthest thing from his mind, the cases were driving him mad!

He jumped as his phone rang unexpectedly. Sighing, he reached for the receiver. "Sergeant Rawlinson's office," he drawled tiredly. "Officer Bryce speaking. How may I help you?"

On the other side of the line, Rinoa's heart skipped a beat. She had been hoping to speak directly to this man, the cop who'd glanced at her in an interested sort of way the day before, and was suddenly thrilled. Nevertheless, she knew she must stay composed. She was about to relate a serious matter to the police, for she truly believed that Squall Leonhart was behind the murder of Headmaster Cid, if not Instructor Trepe and the Dincht family.

Rinoa cleared her throat. "Yes, good evening, Officer Bryce," she said confidently, not giving away anything through her voice. "I am just calling to report what could be a lead into the death of Cid Kramer."

"Oh?" Bryce seemed surprised, as he groped for a sheet of paper that had not been desecrated by notes from other people reporting these incidents, seemingly unconnected, some downright strange (like the man who had seen someone dropping from the roof of his house, past his window). "I think we should talk about this in person." He recognised the girl's voice as Cid Kramer's cute secretary. This would be a perfect opportunity to get to know her better, whilst still doing, or appearing to be doing, his duty. "Can I take your name, please?"

"Rinoa Heartily," Rinoa told him, still fighting not to sound too eager. "I live at 25 Shipyard House, Balamb. Top floor," she further prompted without being asked.

So her name is Rinoa, Bryce thought, grinning to himself as Rinoa voluntarily gave out her details. I have her name; it's a start. Hey, and an address to boot!

"Okay," he said as he scribbled down the information. "And a contact number?" he asked, sounding hopeful rather than professional.

Nevertheless, Rinoa gave him an eleven-digit number he recognised as having a Balamb dialling code. He noted that down, not only on the scrap of paper he had fished from his notepad, but also in his 'little black book' which he kept in his inside pocket, numerous crossings-out and all. "Okay, Miss Heartilly, can you give me a quick statement as to what you wish to report."

"Y-yes, certainly," Rinoa stuttered, a little flustered. "It's to do with the Cid Kramer murder case. I have some… rather sensitive information which could lead to an arrest… possibly even a conviction."

"Hmm…" Bryce's mind was going a mile a minute. Sensitive information, he thought to himself. That's a way in. I could go to this Rinoa chick's house and try my luck! "Well," he told Rinoa. "Since you have a lot of information in a very important case, if you wouldn't mind paying you a home visit to collect a formal statement."

"Of course," Rinoa stated. "What time would suit you?"

"What's wrong with now?" asked Bryce, a little too keenly. "I mean… I need to get information for this case as soon as possible."

"Umm…" Rinoa glanced around her messy flat, "what time were you thinking of?"

"Well…" Bryce glanced at the clock on the office wall. "I am supposed to be running the office, but since this is all about what I'm supposed to be in charge of anyway, I can be there within around..." He sucked in his breath, thinking how long it would take to physically drive a squad car through the Timber-Balamb Tunnel, which the authorities were letting emergency vehicles do. If he really put his foot down, he could be with Rinoa within the hour. Besides, he didn't like the idea of her being alone in her apartment in these circumstances, especially after the day she'd had. "Half an hour," he finished, cockily, already thinking about which of the flashy squad cars to take. Rawlinson's battered old Fiat Panda was definitely out.

"Okay," Rinoa said, relief tainting the disdain in her voice. "See... see you then." Replacing the receiver, she curled up on the sofa and waited in silence.

Beaming, Bryce could not believe his luck. He knew it wasn't very ethical, getting to know an attractive woman in the guise of... no, an actual witness, he had to keep reminding himself, bu he didn't care. It wasn't the first time he had used his job to pick up girls. Getting to his feet, he grabbed a set of car keys and, after checking they weren't to a battered old model, rushed out of the police station, unable to stop smiling.

Within the half hour, as he had promised Rinoa, Bryce had made it out of the long and winding transcontinental tunnel, and swerved off the tracks, onto the mutilated grass, damaged through other, mainly military vehicles, driving at speed upon it. He skidded on the mud, wet with what he hoped was water stained dark by the dirt, but turned out to be blood, as he found out when some of the substance splashed onto his windscreen. Trying fervently to clean his windscreen, he peered out from his soiled windshield and saw a number of Galbadian soldiers staggering around, as if in shock of the site which lay up ahead.

Dead bodies lined the asphalt up ahead. Not all of them had the peaceful look Bryce had expected from the deceased; some didn't even have their innards intact. A cold shiver went down Bryce's spine, and made him even keener to get to Rinoa, alone in her harbour flat, probably without power, therefore probably cold and hungry. He jammed his foot on the accelerator, but he had to brake when he saw a figure lurch in front of him. Shocked and scared, he stamped on the brake, stopping within an inch of the figure's feet.

"What the hell?" Bryce wound down the window and hollered at the man. "I'm a police officer; I have clearance." He pulled out his warrant card and showed it to the figure whose milky eyes trained upon his exposed arm. The figure, not the least bit interested in Bryce's identification, lunged for his arm, as if to bite it.

"Hey!" Bryce hollered, pulling his arm swiftly back, just before the creature's teeth could sink into his flesh. "I could take you in for assaulting a police officer!" But the... thing... didn't seem to care, its eyes still fixed hungrily on Bryce as he hastily closed his car window. Something was very wrong with these people, Bryce realised, and Rinoa was in terrible danger. He would have to think of a way to get her out of that flat... or perhaps they would be safe, barricaded in her warm apartment, furnished with a woman's touch; a refreshing change from his smelly singles apartment...

A thud from the fist of one of the grotesque gang interrupted Bryce's dreamy reverie, and he knew he had to get away from these monsters at any cost. He revved his engine and put his foot down on the gas, sending at least four of the creatures flying. Bryce prayed they survived; he did not want to be lumbered with incident paperwork on top of everything else.

Eventually he reached the harbour flats; a few of the figures were still lumbering aimlessly about. Bryce killed the engine, desperately hoping that the noise wasn't attracting these thing. He managed to sneak by undetected by parking in what would be considered reckless in any other situation – right in front of the entrance to the apartments. Trying the door, Bryce was met with another obstacle – an intercom security system.

Staring at the keypad, Bryce figured that he would have to type in Rinoa's door number. But for the life of him, he couldn't remember it. Racking his brains, trying to remember the door number the pretty girl had given him over the phone just three quarters of an hour before, he failed to realise that the flesh-hungry assailants had spotted him and were slowly getting closer and closer...

In the cramped diesel train cab, Zell Dincht leaned his blond spiky head out of the window, taking a gasp of the freshest air he, or any of his companions, had breathed, since entering the rank, stuffy, transcontinental tunnel, though this air was still decidedly fetid. Death was almost certainly in the air.

"At last!" he gasped triumphantly. "Timber! I see Timber!" He was smiling for the first time before Selphie's death. He turned to face his comrades, who were looking disheveled and anxious to leave the train, having spent just under twenty minutes cramped together in a small space that smelled like a torture chamber.

Irvine pushed the brim of his cowboy hat up, and glanced out of the muddy windscreen, on tiptoe, as it was high, even for his lofty frame. "We're coming up to the station now," he observed. "Better hit the brakes; we don't wanna crash this thing after coming so far."

Xu steeled herself. "Let's see if I can remember which one's the brake," she murmured. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cellphone. "Zell..." she said, before changing her mind, conscious that Seifer might answer. "Uhh... Raijin." She thrust the phone at him. "Call Squall and tell... whoever answers we will be in Timber in literally a minute." Nervously she put a hand on a lever she believed to be the brake. "Try and get a location as well," she advised him as he held the phone to his ear.

"Hello... who's that... Seifer, man! Thank Hyne! Thought I'd never see you again after that mess in Balamb, ya know... listen... are you safe?... Well, that's to be expected with Squall... look, we managed to hijack a train and we're just arriving into Timber now... where're you?... hehe, good idea, ya know... what?"

Xu suddenly looked panicked. "What's wrong?" she asked abruptly, spinning round to face Raijin, and relinquishing her grip on the brake. In her panic, the train began gathering speed again.

Irvine pushed ungraciously past Fujin, who shot him a look filthier than the sooty engine they were riding in. Grabbing the brake, he yelled "I got it!" The train began to slow down once again.

"They're at the pub," sighed Raijin dejectedly. "Holed up with a few other survivors."

Xu frowned. "Well... that's good, isn't it?" she questioned, confused.

"Not really," Raijin explained sadly. "They've run out of booze..."

"Oh, for the love of Vascaroon!" Xu snapped, snatching her phone out of Raijin's grip. "Seifer!" she yelled into the handset. "Stop messing around and put Squall on!"

Seifer must have obliged as Xu's harsh expression softened. "Squall," she breathed, "thank goodness!"

"Xu," Squall said importantly. "Good timing. Bad news; they're here, too. We're in the Aphropha bar with some of the locals who haven't... transformed. It's pretty safe, but..." The rest of his advice was drowned out by the almighty industrial screech of metal against metal, as Irvine bought the train to as smooth as a stop that he could. Finally, the train jolted to a juddering halt.

A slightly claustrophobic Fujin was first onto the platform. "FREEDOM," she spat, almost leaping off the train as it stopped.

Zell followed, just as enthusiastically. "OHHHH YEEEAAAH!" he cried, as the soles of his red flash trainers touched down onto the concrete.

Irvine and Raijin followed, no less quickly than their compatriots. Only Xu remained in the cab, hollering into her phone. "Hello, Squall? You still there? Aaargh!" She withdrew the phone from her ear and redialled. "Hi. Squall... yeah... sorry about that. Listen, we have just arrived in Timber... what's the plan?"

Squall simply answered, "Not to die."

Xu was almost speechless. "Uh... yeah..." she stammered. "See you in the pub, then." She hung up and put her phone away.

Making their way down the stone steps from the deserted platform, the survivors from Balamb glanced around. As there were no other trains running, there was an eerie silence around. A crumpled-up newspaper blowing around stopped at Xu's feet. She looked disdainfully at the headline: PRESIDENT CARAWAY: ALL IS WELL. ANTI-GOVERNMENT PROTESTS CRUSHED

Zell, looking down at the litter as well, snorted. "Seems like Rinoa's father has done well for himself," he noted, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. After that fiasco over the parade, and the cocky General stripped of his official title, and kept under house arrest during the Sorceress' reign of terror, he had somehow clawed his way back up the political ladder, and was President of Galbadia. Although he granted independence to Timber, it was in name only; still under the jurisdiction of Galbadia. Still, there were greater matters at hand than a broken political promise.

"To the pub!" Irvine announced urgently, wishing it had been under much, much happier circumstances. He was also a bit apprehensive, not only because of the threat of death from any angle from one of those... horrible creatures, but it would be his first meeting with Squall since Selphie's funeral. He was embarrassed about the way he had acted both there, and at the scene where the accident had happened, and he hoped there would be no ill will between them now.

Reaching the door, they found that the metal gratings covering the door were bolted shut, and the lights were off. It appeared to be empty.

"But the said he was definitely here," Xu pondered. "I don't know Timber very well. Is there another pub anywhere at all?"

Raijin shook his head. "Not that I know of," he said. "This is it." He sucked in his breath, fearing the worst. "Unless they had to leave in a hurry, ya know."

"No," Irvine said, with certainty. "There would be signs of forced entry from where they tried to get in, and unless they've come in and not managed to unbolt the front door in time..." He trailed off and gulped.

"No way!" Zell yelled. "No way would it have happened so fast! I mean, we only got off the train two minutes ago. He took a breath. "So if within that time the worst has happened... they would still be fighting them off... and we would hear them..." His face turned paler by the minute, his tattoo becoming more prominent than ever.

"Well, there's only one way to find out!" Raijin began hammering on the blue steel grating. "Seifer! It's us, ya know! Let us in!"

Raijin paused for a moment and listened to mumblings within the pub. "What if it's... police... think we're rioting... those... things? ...can't risk..." He did not recognise any of the hushed voices as being Seifer, or Squall. He began hammering again.

"SEIFER," Fujin called above the din. "US. BALAMB. MUST ENTER."

"Please," Xu put in. "The coast is clear, there's... there's nothing... else around," she reassured. "We come in peace; we're SeeDs from Balamb Garden."

"Well, most of us are," Zell muttered, shooting Raijin and Fujin a scornful look.

Eventually there was a series of clicks, a loud clunk, and the steel door swung open. The five survivors were met with a weary-looking barman. "Get in, quick," he said, in a panicky voice.

Gratefully they all came into the dingy bar, which smelled like stale tobacco, and warm, flat cider and lager. Xu could not suppress a shudder as the door slammed shut behind her, prison-like.

"I'm sorry," croaked a portly woman wearing a scarlet and cream patterned bandanna over long, mousy brown hair, and a dirty, brown flowery dress. Zell recognised her as Miss DiMarco, the leader of the Forest Fox, and a friend to Rinoa. "We... we normals... well, we can't be too careful about who lurks about anymore." She gulped, and her eyes took on a watery appearance. Zell had the dreadful feeling that her three adopted children that he, Selphie, Squall and Rinoa had met last year, were among the dead.

"What happened?" Xu asked, eyes wide in horror at the dozen or so people gathered in the dingy pub. They were sweaty, unkempt, and a few were passed out in the corner, obviously having turned to drink to block out the awful situation.

DiMarco shook her head listlessly. "They... them things... they just came outta nowhere... from across the plain... from the forests... even through the railway tracks. They just came... and ate... and killed... everything in sight... everything too slow to run away... The children..." Her voice broke and the tears ran down her face.

A burly man in a mud and blood-splattered torn shirt and jeans paced forward. "Hey!" he yelled angrily, stalking up to Xu. "Why are you bringing this up? Don't you know she's just lost her family?"

Zell sprang to her defence. "Calm down, man!" he yelled. "She's not the only one who's lost someone." He took a breath. "They're in Balamb as well," he continued sadly. "My ma, Shelley and that little rascal." Zell shook his head.

"Yeah, show a little empathy, Shaun," snarled Seifer. Zell was rather taken aback. Why was Almasy sticking up for him?

"I'm sorry," Shaun whispered. "It's just that... we've been fighting so hard to keep them at bay... It's impossible, I tell you." He exhaled in frustration. "We haven't got weapons, like you guys," he sighed, eyeing Irvine's shotgun, Fujin's pinwheel, and Xu's pistol.

Zell smiled a weak smile. "You don't need fancy weapons," he said, trying his very best to keep their spirits up. "You just need to get them in the head."

DiMarco's moist eyes became wide, intrigued. "You think so?" she asked.

"I know so," Raijin cut in, carelessly twirling his pole around, narrowly missing Shaun, and the bartender, who barely escaped a set of broken ribs. "All ya gotta do is smack 'em with whatever you got to hand. Knives, chair legs, bottles... ya know." He eyed the bar, partly wishing there was at least a tiny drop of liquor left.

Shaun's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?" he asked, sceptically.

"Well, it got us this far," Irvine said encouragingly.

"Thanks for the tips," Shaun replied cockily, "but I don't think we'll be needing it." He smiled. "Seems like the danger has passed."

A faint moaning could be heard. DiMarco turned to see if the unconscious drunks were stirring, but it sounded like the noise was coming from outside.

The ominous noise was followed by a loud thumping. The door, despite its reinforcements, trembled. A girl screamed.

The moaning got louder and louder, the banging got fiercer and fiercer.

"Everybody," Xu announced, "we have to get out of here. We can take you to Galbadia Garden. It is a stronghold, believe me. You'll be safe there. Probably other survivors are on their way there too."

"We're not going anywhere!" Shaun snarled, grabbing a barstool and smashing it against the once splendid marble bar. "We're staying to fight. We're not exposing ourselves to any more danger." Still the battering continued; a splintering noise could be heard.

Seifer, who had been strangely quiet, leapt to his feet, drawing Hyperion. "Speak for yourselves," he said. "I'm with that lady there." He indicated Xu with his gunblade. "What say you all?"

Shaun gave Seifer a contemptuous stare, as the hammering continued. "Good luck," he spat. "The exit is back there." His stubby index finger pointed to a green door with a steel bar securing it. "Be sure it doesn't hit you on the way out!"

"Will you calm down, Shaun!" DiMarco snapped, not really sounding calm herself. She turned away from Shaun and faced Seifer, who was helping Squall off the ground. "Are you really leaving?" she asked. It was as if she had grown fond of the boys.

"We have to," Squall said in his usual, serious way. "The wellbeing of anyone at the Gardens is our priority." He looked around at the helpless, frightened normals. "You can come with us, if you wish. We'll protect you." He looked towards the five who had joined them recently, who solemnly nodded.

DiMarco rushed over to Squall and hugged him, as the taciturn warrior stood momentarily frozen, awkwardly returning the embrace. "If only we could," she replied. "You see, Timber is as important to us as the Gardens are to you. We cannot surrender this place to those... not so soon after being granted independence."

Squall nodded. "I understand," he said. He cleared his throat. "Are you prepared to come with us?" he asked the group.

Xu nodded, and drew her gun. She passed it to DiMarco. "Use it well," she whispered, delving into her pockets, and pulling out a few round silver objects. "There's a few more shells here." She placed them on the bar. "Just pull that tab to reveal the chamber and pop them in, rounded end first." Ms Dimarco nodded.

"Be careful," Shaun croaked, genuinely touched by the SeeD's kind offer for help. "Squall... Seifer..." He rushed over to the men, shaking their hands in turn. "Good luck. I hope we meet again soon."

"I'm sure we will," Squall smiled, not really believing his own words.

"Well," Seifer said, his hands on the fire escape door, ready to push the release bar down. "Shall we go?"

The door flame splintered and a crack of gloomy light trickled ominously through.

"Yes," agreed Irvine, "and quickly."

The team dashed through the fire exit without a backwards glance, apart from Squall, whose last words to them, "Good luck," were lost amongst the crashing of fragile wood against the mass of bodies on the other side.

It wasn't long before Squall firmly shut the door that they heard screaming, shooting, moaning and crunching. The sounds of a losing battle.

"Come on," Squall croaked. He had just sent those few people to their deaths, but tried, with not much success, to console himself with the knowledge they, the remaining survivors from Balamb, had a greater chance of survival without them. "Let's go."