Chapter XI: The Art of Eating Leaves

From the audio log of Garrus Vakarian, Day 7:

I've been making these log entries using my comm-unit in order to keep a record of my stay on this far flung planet. The power cells in it are just about dead anyway, so in a few days time I'll probably be unable to keep a record of what's been going on. Once the power cells are dead I'll be burying the comm-unit and maybe one day someone might find it, whoever they might be.

I think I've finally begun to lose my mind. I don't know why or how, but it's happening. I'm seeing things that aren't there, hearing things that aren't there…I've no family history of mental illness, so I could be the first Vakarian to lose his mind. As the days go by it becomes more acute, the noises I hear and the things I see. Soon enough they'll appear as real to me as everything else in reality and when that happens I'll probably be unable to resist them any longer. I've seen Shepard here enough times and each time she's told me to kill Colonel Sommers. Each and every time. I can barely sleep at night with all the things I've been hearing and the lack of sleep has finally begun to take its toll.

Sommers has been gone for a few days now. I have no idea where but I think its better that he remains out of my sight since I'll probably try killing him otherwise. Last time I saw him, he seemed far more insane than me.

It's funny: I spend a week in the jungle and the next thing you know I've already "gone native". I've made myself a bow and arrow, I've been trying to hunt wild animals but even when I've finally eaten one it just gives me an upset stomach. I've taken up the art of eating leaves since they don't make me feel so sick. Sooner or later I'm going to begin losing weight from this vegetarian diet. Another thing I've been trying to find out about is a means to get off of this planet. There are no clues that there's a way off and it seems unlikely that there is any way to get off of this planet. I'm stuck here, destined to go insane. It's something about this place, I can feel it…It gets under your skin…

Garrus Vakarian was looking rather weary after spending seven days on the remote jungle world. His dark blue face-paints had since faded over time, leaving him with what most turians would call a "plain-face". He was dressed only in the lower half of his armour's under-suit, revealing his upper torso and the strong muscles there. He sat alone in the Prothean village upon a short stone stool, his communicator held in his left hand. By the side of the stool was the primitive bow and a few arrows to go with it. In his other hand he clutched a branch of the plant with the smooth dark green leaves, the one he had spent most of his time eating. Rather absently he chewed another few leaves off of the branch before tossing it aside. His stomach rumbled, longing for more substantial and agreeable food. Unfortunately there was little here a turian could eat without feeling ill.

For a week he had been here, most of his night having been near sleepless. He felt exhausted and every muscle of his body ached, yet he knew he must remain alert at all times. The Colonel may come out of the jungle and try to kill him, hence why Garrus tried to remain alert at all times. Another thing the turian had to worry about were the increasing amounts of hallucinations, each one appearing far more real than the last. Last night he had seen Shepard again and the pair had proceeded to make love on Garrus' makeshift bed, only for the turian to wake up with a sticky mess across his lap and no sign of Commander Shepard anywhere. It was this sort of thing that made him angry, to think that his own mind was playing very convincing tricks on him. Never before had he experienced anything quite like it, seeing things that were so real but yet fake at the same time. It was something about this place, it held many dark secrets…

It gets under your skin…

The Colonel had disappeared on the fourth day, presumably into the jungle. He had taken the suitcase with him, leaving Garrus alone in the ancient Prothean village. The turian cared little about this and had been more than happy to have Colonel Sommers gone. Still, Garrus knew that he must keep alert since the Colonel might return and try to kill him. Before the Colonel had left the pair had been watching each other carefully, taking note of what the other did whilst plotting against them. Sommers had a gun but ammunition was very limited. Garrus had a bow, some arrows and the combat knife that he had been keeping in his armour. He had almost forgotten about it, primarily because he barely needed to use it. Garrus had been considering slashing the Colonel's throat while he slept and had been sharpening the combat knife's blade constantly. However, Garrus had soon decided that he could use his own talons for that and had been sharpening those instead. That way the killing would be far more satisfying.

Garrus had decided to keep record of what happened on his communicator, using his personal datapad to connect to it in order to store the audio logs he made. Unfortunately the power cells on the datapad were just about depleted and there certainly was not anywhere on this planet to plug them in and charge them up.

It was about morning here and the sun had begun its steady ascent into the sky. The two moons of this world were quite visible, one lower in the sky and closer to the planet than the other. Garrus had admired the sunrise this morning from his spot in the village, looking across the river and the marshy plains as he did so. For all the gripes he had with his situation, Garrus could be grateful he had ended up on a planet that was hospitable and not some barren wasteland. However, jungles like the one near the village were full of dangers and one of those dangers were the nasty bugs that fluttered around, biting things and spreading God only knew what kind of diseases. Garrus had a few sores on his upper torso from previous bites, his hardened turian exoskeleton doing little against some of the larger insects. Currently he felt a bit ill, perhaps as a result of some disease contracted from an insect or something he had ate, it was impossible to determine what exactly.

Garrus put aside the communicator and the datapad, unable to think of anything else he could say about what had happened here. He could always add things on as the day went by but otherwise nothing really notable had occurred in the last few days, save for the hallucinations and his sour attitude to the universe in general. Fate had stuck him here with only Colonel Sommers for company, if fate did exist. If it did then it was certainly quite cruel. Just when he and Shepard had admitted the feelings they had for one another and he gets snatched away from her in the most abrupt manner possible.

For breakfast this morning Garrus had eaten some leaves, as he had every other day of his stay here. Then lunch would probably consist of more leaves as well, followed by a dinner consisting of leaves. Such a monotonous diet could send anyone insane and Garrus had a feeling that he was already halfway there.

His left leg only ached mildly now, having since healed over the week. Now he could move more freely but he still needed his makeshift walking stick, if only to prevent all of the weight from falling upon his hurt left leg. Garrus could only hope that he did not fall over and hurt the leg anymore, otherwise all of the healing that had been achieved would promptly be cancelled out. He knew he needed to be fully mobile if he was to survive here, especially if Sommers decided to run out of the jungle and try killing him.

On the turian's agenda for today was another walk into the jungle, partly to find clues that could get him off of this planet and partly because he wanted to find Colonel Sommers. Garrus needed to be sure of the Colonel's state and whether the human had simply keeled over and died somewhere or had set up a home within the jungle somewhere.

As Garrus sat thinking about this he became aware of a loud beeping coming from his communicator. A wave of excitement flowing through him, Garrus picked up the device and put it to his ear. Maybe someone had finally gotten in touch with him? If so, that meant he could get rescued and maybe taken to a place where he could regain some of his lost sanity.

He was confused when he heard a familiar voice pipe through the communicator. He was even more confused when that voice turned out to be his own, save for the fact that he was not actually talking.

"Garrus, it looks like you're in a bit of trouble," the voice said, sounding uncannily like himself, "Stuck on a planet, left to fend for yourself. And you're beginning to doubt your sanity…"

The hope drained out of Garrus within seconds. The turian felt a wave of anger wash through him instead and as much as he would have liked to throw the communicator away, he was curious to see what this voice would say. It occurred to him that he was listening to his own voice, except that he was not actually talking. No, it was probably just another hallucination…it had to be.

"Who is this?" Garrus asked, realizing immediately that it was a stupid question.

There was a laugh on the other end of the channel, one that sounded just like his laugh. Garrus felt a chill run down his spine as he listened to the malevolent version of himself talk and torment him.

"You're never going to get off this planet," the voice said, "You're going to die here, Garrus. You're going to die here and no one's ever going to find you. I bet by the time someone's found you, you'll be nothing but dust. Dust mixed with the dirt so there's no way to tell you were ever here."

"What do you want from me?" Garrus demanded. He clenched his left hand into a fist and it began to shake uncontrollably. He was beginning to get fed up with everything his tormented psyche was throwing at him. He needed to get off of this planet before he finally did lose his mind completely.

"You're going to die, Garrus…Die, die, die, die, die…"

The last word began to repeat itself, again and again and again. It was as if it was boring into the turian's mind with about as much subtlety as a pneumatic drill. It began to echo through his conscience, doubly more effective since it was his voice that was saying it.

"Die, die, die, die, die…"

"I'm not going to die here!" Garrus shouted into the communicator, pulling it away from his ear. He stood up, still able to hear his voice filtering through it, growing louder and louder each time the word was said.

"Diediediediediediediedie…" The past quickened and the volume increased until it was practically a mere buzz in the turian's mind, one that refused to go away.

"I'll show you, whoever you are!" Garrus shouted, "I'm not going to die here!" He threw the communicator with enough force to send it arcing into the pond. It disappeared with a faint plop! The buzz in his head simply increased as a result and Garrus fell to his knees, trying to blot it out, putting his hands to his head and groaning as it refused to subside. The communicator had been his only means of making his audio logs and now that was gone he could no longer keep record of what was happening here. He doubted there was much else to report except his dwindling sanity.

The buzz continued to increase, filling his mind with an incomprehensible mess of noise and whispering voices and high-pitched sounds. Finally, Garrus looked towards the heavens and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"STOP!"

The noises stopped and Garrus collapsed onto all fours, whimpering quietly. Never in his life had he felt so powerless and vulnerable. Never before had he thought that his own mind would want to screw with him like this, sending him gradually nuts. What was wrong with him? He had been perfectly sane until the first night here and now he was seeing and hearing things with as much clarity as if they were actually there.

He slowly rose to his feet and picked up his walking stick with his left hand. Surveying the village around him he made sure that there was no one else here with him, real or hallucination. He knew that sooner or later his resistance against these hallucinations would be impossible to keep up and that eventually he would give into them, going completely nuts and living in some sort of fantasy world. Until then he could try and keep his sanity and try and find a way off of this planet, even if the search for a means to do this was obviously fruitless. He was stuck here, forced to go insane while living in constant fear of being killed by Colonel Sommers. Well, now he would try and find the Colonel again and when he found him he would kill the bastard before he killed him.

Garrus took up his bow and put it around his shoulder while attaching a bundle of about a dozen arrows to his waist. The arrows themselves were simply long sticks he had sharpened and made relatively narrow and cylindrical, giving each of them sharp points. He would be surprised if they even broke the skin. Still, it was better than walking into the jungle unarmed. He had his knife to fall back on if all else failed and if that failed then he had his talons. Sommers could not take away his talons.

Garrus began to walk, hobbling slightly on his left leg. He left the village behind once more and started along the tree-line, trying to work out what parts he had explored and what parts he had not. The river that ran by the village crossed through part of the jungle and it was here that Garrus stopped at the riverbank, taking the moment to kneel by the water and take a quick drink. The water tasted somewhat dirty, probably because of the dirt that was in it. He drank anyway, taking a minute or two before he had satisfied and stood up.

He froze when he saw who was across the river. Raising his bow and readying an arrow he took aim, barely fazed by what he was seeing. It was Saren, presumably another hallucination brought on by Garrus' dwindling sanity.

"You were there when Shepard killed me, Vakarian," Saren said. He had reached for the pistol in the holster at his waist. Garrus remained still, knowing full well that Saren was dead and that this was just another hallucination. Even so, part of his mind was telling him to kill the bastard again just to make sure.

"You're not really here," Garrus said defiantly, the arrow in the bow ready to fire. His grip shook involuntarily, giving away his uncertainty towards the situation.

"Do you want to be proven wrong?" Saren asked. He raised the pistol and pointed it at Garrus, his look one of typical malevolence. "You kill me and you're no better than me, Vakarian. You and Shepard are no better than most of the criminals you bring to justice. You're both renegades and you're both ruthless and prone to violence. No wonder you've fallen for each other."

Garrus let the arrow go, preferring not to take any chance. It got stuck in Saren's throat and the turian let out a surprised gasp before falling forwards and splashing into the river, the water around him turning a dark blue colour. Garrus lowered the bow and watched as Saren's body began to float downriver with the current in the most convincing and realistic way possible.

Either that encounter had been real or Garrus' hallucinations were becoming more and more realistic. Whatever had happened, Garrus felt satisfied to have killed Saren…again. He had delivered the final shot to the turian's head back on the Citadel about a week ago, after Shepard had talked Saren into committing suicide. To think that he had survived and come all the way out here…it was crazy. Then again, Garrus was fairly certain that he was going crazy so it made sense. Or didn't it? Nothing here made sense anymore, so Garrus decided that he would try and play along with whatever happened. Maybe if he got rid of Colonel Sommers he would be better off.

Garrus followed the river into the jungle, going deeper and deeper into the dark of the forest. Soon enough the trees were right up against the bank of the river, the thick canopies casting eerie dark shadows over the water. Garrus was forced to climb over uneven terrain, taking extra care as to not to aggravate his injured leg. Colonel Sommers could have been anywhere, but Garrus had a feeling that the human would stay close to the river. It was the only water source in the area.

It was some surprise then that Garrus stumbled upon the circular ditch. It was perhaps ten metres in diameter and overgrown with the plant with the silvery and smooth green leaves. The whole thing was packed full of the plant and it spread forth from the ditch, having spread like wildfire through the rest of the jungle. Why this was the case Garrus could not be certain so he trudged into the ditch, pushing aside tall examples of the exotic looking plant. Using his knife he cut away some of the branches that got into his way, digging through them towards the ground. Branches whipped at his bare torso and his face but he ignored them, suddenly overcome with the feeling that he was onto something.

He found metal at the very bottom of the ditch, rusted with age but still there. He dug away some more, cutting away any of the plants that were in the way. What he found could have been anything but he spent some time thinking about it anyway, stepping back in order to get a better view.

The ditch was an age-old crater, one filled to the brim with the silvery green plant. The tight clusters of this plant had left the metal object at the bottom of the ditch relatively untouched by the elements. Garrus took a piece of the metal pod away, finding it to be made of a black and somewhat heavy metal. It was unlike any sort of metal he had seen before and it reminded him distinctly of the metal the Reaper, Sovereign, had been made out of and that plenty of scientists had tried studying after the attack on the Citadel. This finding only supplied more questions than it did answers but Garrus took the small piece of metal anyway, trying to piece the puzzle together. It was not helped by the voices he could hear in the surrounding forest but he shut them out, ignoring them completely as he continued into the jungle.

It was several minutes of walking later that he finally came across some evidence of the Colonel. It was in a small clearing in the jungle where a makeshift shelter had been built out of sticks and leaves that looked big enough to lie in. It was rather flimsy but provided a better option than lying out in the open at night. There were the remains of a fire in the middle of the small clearing as well and Garrus bent down and put a hand to the embers, feeling that they were still warm. Colonel Sommers had been here recently. Garrus assumed that the human was out in the forest hunting since it seemed the logical thing to do at this time of the day. There was not much else to do here but hunt and build better shelters.

The turian continued through the clearing, taking note of how some of the undergrowth had been noticeably trampled on and pushed through. Following this trail of environmental vandalism, Garrus spent five minutes walking through the jungle before stopping when the trail ended. He became aware of a distinct silence in the area, taking a careful look around at his surroundings. He suddenly had that feeling again of being watched and carefully he crouched down in the undergrowth, pushing through it slowly and cautiously.

Colonel Sommers was around here, he could feel it. Garrus took out his bow again and loaded another arrow, peering through the undergrowth as he did. Someone was out there, he was sure of it. It could be another hallucination but there was no way to be sure…at least, not anymore. Garrus was becoming increasingly more used to the hallucinations and sooner or later he would accept them as real. When that happened it would be an indication that he had lost his sanity completely.

There was a rustle of movement up ahead. Garrus slowly edged his way forwards, passing a narrow and short tree. It was only a fledgling one, struggling to gather enough sunlight to get the energy to grow up and reach the canopy above. Sure, it was a mere tree…but what was at its base was something that made Garrus freeze where he was. A disc-shaped grenade was tied to the base and a near invisible wire went from it to the base of another tree a few metres to the turian's right. The Colonel was here alright and he ha set a trap.

Garrus almost jumped up in fright when there was a loud inhuman squealing noise from nearby, a small black four-legged creature racing past and scared out of its wits. Garrus was about to sigh with relief that it had been a mere wild animal but this was before he realized that in his fright he had shifted onto the wire, depressing it and arming the grenade.

The turian stood up and dived just as the grenade detonated. A thunderous roar erupted around him and dirt and leaves flew up high, raining down all around him. Splinters of wood exploded outwards from destroyed trees, some travelling at a dangerous pace. Garrus landed face-first into the dirt, an agonizing pain shooting up from his left leg. He rolled onto his back, rubbing the dirt from his face whilst managing a look towards his leg.

"No, no, no…" He spoke aloud to himself with despair when he saw what had happened. A large piece of splintery wood had embedded itself in his left leg, just below the knee. Looking at it was enough to send a spasm of pain shooting up from the wound and he groaned loudly. With one hand he reached towards the piece of wood, a piece that was perhaps as large as his hand, and pulled. He screamed as the splinter of wood dragged against the inside of the wound, setting off all sorts of agonizing pain. Clenching his jaw he pulled anyway, finally bringing it free and finding the bottom half sticky with his own dark blue blood. Smaller splinters had been left behind in the leg wound and he began to carefully pick them out, wincing each time a new one was plucked for the pain it caused was immense.

Colonel Sommers would pay for this, there was no doubt about that. Garrus wanted to score some payback for this, especially since his left leg had been healing after the fracture he had received a week ago. Now it was just as ruined as before, perhaps even more painfully so. The wound there could easily get infected without proper medical attention and unfortunately there were no doctors here. There was just him, Sommers and the environment around them. Wherever Sommers was he had to be near…he would not have set a trap like this if he was not close by.

Garrus heard a voice, a familiar one. It was Colonel Sommers and he was nearby, his tone a rather angry one as he appeared standing in a set of underbrush up ahead. Garrus reached for where his bow lay on the ground near him, sitting up and placing an arrow to the bow. Sommers did not seem to notice. The turian took note of how Sommers held the suitcase in his left hand and the Magnum revolver in his right. The Colonel's outfit was dirty, his face grimy and hair quite messed up. He had obviously been through as much hell as Garrus had. He might have even been suffering from vivid hallucinations as well, it was hard to tell.

"You dumb fucking turian!" Sommers shouted angrily, "That trap was for that animal, not you!"

"You were hunting an animal with a grenade?" Garrus asked, incredulous. He started to drag himself away, his left leg hurting far too much to be walked on. It was obvious the Colonel had begun to lose his mind…or it had happened already. This was something else that was hard to tell.

Sommers stepped forwards. Garrus raised the bow and arrow and fired impulsively, the arrow hitting Sommers in the gut and getting stuck there. Sommers yelled and Garrus could do little else but smile. Finally, he had killed the Colonel…

Colonel Sommers was not dead. Rather, he was incredibly angry and he raised the Magnum revolver in Garrus' general direction. The turian began to drag himself across the ground again, unable to quite believe his bad luck. He could barely walk now, not with such a gaping big hole made in his left leg. Dark blue blood oozed out freely while dirt and God only knew what else became stuck in the fleshy wound, making the pain flare up again.

By now Sommers had plucked the arrow from his gut. He threw it aside with anger and pulled the trigger on his Magnum revolver. Garrus yelled as a bullet found its mark in his right arm, sending a hot sharp pain shooting through him. The turian took a deep breath and struggled to rise to his feet, groaning in pain as he tried to put weight onto his left leg. He started to hobble away weakly, glancing behind him at the Colonel.

The Colonel seemed to have gotten over his brief bout of anger and had instead collapsed onto the ground, clutching his bleeding stomach. He still held the suitcase close to himself, not daring to let the precious item go.

Garrus fell over numerous times on his way back to the village. The pain at his leg and his arm was simply too much and as soon as he made it to the village he collapsed, his mind a haze of pain and unanswered questions. When he did come to hours later he took a dip in the river, trying to wash out the wounds he had received before coming to shore and crafting himself a new walking stick. Garrus returned to his makeshift bed and searched what was left of his armour suit frantically, finding a small portable first aid kit stored away in one compartment. Such an item was standard-issue on a combat mission and he was grateful to see it, ripping it open and taking out everything that was inside. There were no anaesthetics and instead he found a small container of medigel and some bandages. He used both on his leg wound and hastily bandaged it up before he used his combat knife to dig the bullet out of his right arm. It was difficult but he finally succeeded after several attempts. Once it was out of his arm he applied the last of the medigel in order to decrease the chance of the wound getting infected.

Finally, with all of this done he sat himself down on his usual spot in the village and retrieved the piece of dark metal he had recovered from the crater in the jungle. He stared at it for some time, fascinated. It would be a while before he could piece the puzzle together and until then he had to settle for living as he was, eating leaves and seeing things that were not there. In fact, he had reason to believe that everything that had happened since the attack on the Citadel might have been one long hallucination. Either that or it was just now he had begun to see things, but it was hard to tell.

He told himself he would get Colonel Sommers for what had happened. Garrus vowed that Colonel Sommers would die by his hand, not just for what had happened minutes before but for everything the Colonel had done: killing Garrus' brother, getting Garrus stuck here, being an overall asshole…Colonel Sommers would die. Garrus would tear out the man's throat if necessary using his own bare talons.