Chapter Eleven
It started snowing a few days before Fang reached the outskirts of Eden City. By the time she reached the river that marked the edge of the city, the road was buried beneath a carpet of snow at least a foot thick. Her car was forced to move at little more than a crawl as it tried to shove its way through all the snow. It made her want to scream. Eden City was so, so close but it might as well have been on the moon because of all the snow. Its tall, broken skyline was right there at the edge of her vision, a craggy, ruined maze of black spires dappled in white.
Her hands clenched so tightly around the steering wheel that for a moment she was afraid she'd break it. Slowly, very slowly, she forced herself to calm down and think. The cold weather was bad, but Vanille wasn't stupid. Sure, the red head didn't have Fang's survival instincts, but Fang had taught Vanille everything she needed to get through a little snow. Still, there was a nagging voice in the back of her mind wondering if she'd taught Vanille enough to deal with the Infected. After all, Fang had always looked out for the younger woman, had always watched over her and protected her. Had Fang's protectiveness left Vanille helpless? Had it… had it gotten the other woman killed? Viciously, Fang shoved the thought aside. Vanille was fine. She had to be. It was just a matter of getting to her and then the two of them could go find somewhere safe to wait things out.
Fang nodded to herself. Yes, she just had to get to Vanille and if the car couldn't get her the rest of the way, then she would just have to go the rest of the way on foot. It couldn't be too far – even Eden City couldn't be that big. In this weather it might take a few days, but if she was lucky, she might stumble across a truck or something that could handle all the snow.
But leaving the car behind would be risky. She had all of her supplies in the car, and there were too many to take with her. She'd just have to make do somehow. She'd bring only what she needed, enough to get her to Vanille and get the two of them back to the car. After that, everything would be okay.
Mind made up, she guided the car toward a ruined tourist spot. It was a tall building, but there was a covered space beside it where she could leave the car until she got back. She took a quick look around to make sure it was safe and then got out of the car. The wind was the first thing to hit her. It was harsh and biting, so bad that it felt like it was trying to rip the skin right off her face. Then the cold came. It clawed at her cheeks, her lips, her eyes, and she hurried to adjust her clothing.
She'd picked up a thick coat in one of the towns she'd passed through a few weeks ago. There had been a clothing store and after a bit of exploring, she'd found a locked storeroom at the back. There had been people piled up against the door, their bodies ripped to bits. They must have tried to get in, but the lock had held, and the Infected had done the rest. She had to blow the door open with her shotgun, but inside, she'd found a thick coat, some gloves, and even boots. It hadn't been all that cold yet, but her time as a ranger had taught her to always be prepared.
Pretty much all of the others clothes in the storeroom had been too big to fit Vanille, but eventually, Fang had managed to find a set of clothes that she thought would probably be all right. Of course, the coat, boots, and gloves were a rather garish shade of fluoro pink, but beggars couldn't be choosers, and at least she'd never lose sight of Vanille in all the snow. A grin crossed her lips. She could just see it now. Vanille would whine and complain and probably try and bully Fang into wearing them before finally giving in. She chuckled softly and then fell silent. Vanille in an all pink ensemble… the matron would have loved to see that. Except the matron was dead now, along with everyone else from Oerba.
Reaching into the boot of the car for a rag to help shield her face from the cold, Fang took stock of what she needed. Apart from the spare clothing for Vanille, she would need food, weapons, and gasoline. The gasoline would be hassle to carry around, but it would definitely come in handy if she found a better vehicle to carry her the rest of the way. It would also make it easier to start a fire, and she could use a fire to melt snow into water if she needed more.
After making sure that the car was as secure as she could make it, she loaded all of the things she needed into a large backpack and started the long slog toward Eden City. It didn't take more than a few minutes before her body began to ache. For weeks she had pushed herself, doing everything she could to make it to Eden City as quickly as possible. She was running on empty, or close to it, but she refused to slow down. Vanille was waiting for her, and if she had to trudge through some snow carrying a backpack that felt as heavy as she was, then that was what she'd do.
But that was easier said that done. The wind grew stronger as the day wore on and all the while, snow continued to fall. Soon the snow was past her knees and each step seemed to take an eternity as she struggled to wrench her legs out of the snow while keeping her balance. Even at her peak, it would have been hard going, but now, with her body sore, aching and exhausted, it wasn't long before her entire world narrowed down to the thundering of her heart, the howling of the wind, and the seemingly endless drifts of snow.
Her foot caught on something buried in the snow and she tripped. Her hands went out to catch her, but with so much snow, all she did was sink down into the white morass. For a split-second she contemplated staying there, letting the cold do its work and lull her into one final sleep. But just as quickly as it came, the thought passed. She'd begun to have dreams, dreams where she was too late to save Vanille. She refused to let those dreams become reality, and so she stumbled back onto her feet and kept on walking, one foot in front of the other, the snow piling up higher and higher around her.
Sometime later, she wasn't sure how long, since the constant howl of the wind and the never ending snow seemed to strip away all sense of time, she found her thoughts drifting back to the people she'd met at the gas station. Nora and Hope… they seemed decent enough so hopefully they'd heeded her warnings and kept clear of trouble. Still, Fang refused to believe what Nora said about Eden City and how bad it had been. There had been millions of people in Eden City and a place that big had to have places where people could hide, or, at the very least, hold out for a while. And if there were places like that, then she knew that Vanille would find them.
A tall, dark shadow loomed up ahead and Fang squinted through the biting wind. It was one of the bridges into Eden City. It was still at least another half an hour away, but she needed to stay alert. The wind would make it hard, if not impossible, to hear the Infected until they were right on top of her. Hopefully, the snow would also slow the Infected down, although she wasn't about to stake her life on that. The Infected had a habit of surprising her, and never in a pleasant sort of way.
However, despite her desire to stay alert, Fang found her mind slipping. Her thoughts went back to happier times, times when the world still made sense and the only thing she had to worry about was whether or not she would in trouble with the matron.
Back when she and Vanille had been little, the two of them had loved to play hide and seek. It was one of the few games where they were on relatively even footing because Fang had always been stronger and faster than Vanille. But the red head was an expert at hiding, and even Fang had trouble tracking her down when she really went out of her way to hide. They'd driven the matron crazy, especially when Vanille had snuck up into the attic of the orphanage. Vanille had wedged herself in amongst some old furniture and had fallen asleep, so she couldn't hear Fang shouting that it was time to end the game and go eat dinner. The matron had been frantic with worry and so had Fang right up until Vanille wandered down halfway through dinner. The matron had been relieved at first, then absolutely furious, and she had sent both of them up to their beds that night without any dinner at all. Naturally, they'd snuck down to the kitchen later to sneak some food out of the fridge, but they'd been much more careful about where they played in the future.
Suddenly the memory faded and the bridge was right there in front of her. Fang breathed a sigh of relief. Nora had mentioned something about the bridges getting raised or blown up, but someone must have come this way before since this bridge had been lowered into position. However, her relief gave way to unease as she studied the bridge more closely. Frost clung to all of the joints and a thick layer of snow covered the bridge, enough to all but swallow the rusted out skeletons of abandoned cars that littered the road. Gingerly, she began to walk across the bridge, but she had gone no more than a few steps before the whole structure gave a low, horrible groan.
Fang froze. Bridges like this one needed regular maintenance, but it had to have been months since anyone had looked at it. Add to that the sheer amount of ice and snow on it, and it was little wonder that the whole thing was a bit shaky. She dragged in a deep breath, the air so cold, she could barely think. The bridge probably didn't have too much longer, but she couldn't turn back. The next bridge wasn't for miles. She would just have to tread as lightly as she could and hope for the best.
Cars were scattered across the bridge, but there was a rough path through them that looked as though someone had forced a vehicle across the bridge. She followed the path, listening as keenly as she could to the bridge beneath her. Each step she took was accompanied by a low groan, and as the wind kicked up again, the bridge began to tremble until a third of the way across, she heard something crack. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked around. Nothing around her had moved, which meant that the crack must have come from beneath her, from the great metal girders that supported the bridge.
The bridge shook and Fang felt a chill run through her as another crack echoed out followed by a long, drawn out shriek. The sound grated on her ears, harsh, and cutting, and with it came a deep rumble as the bridge dropped almost half a foot beneath her. She scrambled to keep her footing, pawing at the snow around her for something to hold onto. The bridge, she realised, the bridge was set on hinges and raised or lowered by enormous counterweights. If something had damaged the hinges or the counterweights, there was no telling what could happen. She needed to get to the other side of the bridge right now before things got any worse than they already were.
But even as she began to shamble toward the other side of the bridge, something else gave way. Another piercing metallic shriek filled the air, and she saw a great, mangled length of steel fly out from under the bridge. The bridge began to tilt to the side and she had to grab hold of a nearby car to stay standing.
Ahead of her, she could see the midpoint of the bridge, the place where the two halves met when the bridge was lowered. The half of the bridge that she was on had dropped more than two feet and had begun to tilt to the side. A few minutes more and it would probably collapse. With a growl, she summoned all the strength she had, and ploughed through the snow in front of her. She dragged herself up onto the hood of a car near the split in the bridge and paused. There was no way she could make the jump with her backpack on. Arms screaming with the effort, she wrenched her backpack off and hurled it up onto the other side of the bridge.
The bridge jerked again, dropping another foot, and suddenly Fang found herself staring at the edge of the other half of the bridge, a good three feet above her. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. She was so damn close, but a jump of three feet in bulky clothing in the freezing cold while she was all but exhausted was asking for more than she had.
"Not like this," she murmured as an image of Vanille flashed through her mind. "Not like this."
Never mind how impossible it was, she would make it possible. With a high, thin wail, she gathered herself and leapt upward. For one moment, a moment that seemed to last a lifetime, she hung in the air, the bridge falling away beneath her as it tilted wildly to the side and smashed into the river below. She stretched her arms up as high as they would go, clawing, reaching, grabbing for the other side of the bridge. Her fingers touched concrete and she found herself hanging in midair, her hands scrabbling over the slick, icy surface of the bridge.
Wildly, she clawed for something, anything, that could keep her from losing her hold, but she could find nothing. The surface of the bridge was smooth, a perfect blend of ice and concrete. And then her hands closed on something. Pain ripped through her and she screamed as her right hand closed around a jagged bit of protruding metal. Her instincts screamed for her to let go, to get as far away as she could from the metal that was slicing through her glove and into her palm, but instead she forced herself to bear the pain, to close her hand around the metal and pull.
With a final, ragged scream, she yanked herself up onto the other side of the bridge beside her backpack. For a long time, all she could do was lie there, her eyes turned toward the dark, turbulent clouds as the snow pelted down on her. Finally, she found the strength to stand, and she dragged her hand up to her face to examine the damage. The metal had cut right through the glove and into her palm. The ice and snow had done a lot to numb the injury, but she could tell it was bad. In a couple of weeks, it might be okay, but for now, she could barely make a fist.
Hissing at the pain, she forced her hand open and wiped the wound clean with some snow. Blood poured from the gash and she glanced around. The smell of the blood would draw the Infected so she needed to get the wound bandaged and covered as quickly as possible. Grimly, she grit her teeth and wrapped the wound in bandages before she forced her hand into a spare glove that she'd brought. The pain was enough to make her scream, but she needed to keep her hand covered, not only to try and minimise the amount of blood she left behind, but also to keep the hand from freezing in the cold.
Right hand held protectively up to her chest, she shrugged her backpack on and headed deeper into the city. Nightfall would not be far and she needed to find shelter. She might not have seen any Infected yet, but they had to be out there, and sleeping out in the open would leave her far too exposed to both the Infected and the elements.
X X X
Fang walked until the fading light forced her to find shelter. It was strange, but in a way, the snow that had plagued her had actually done Eden City a favour. In the days leading up to her arrival at the outskirts of the city, she'd seen great plumes of smoke rising from all over the city. But those plumes were gone now, the fires that birthed them quenched at last by several feet of snow.
But right now, she had other things to worry about. She was at the edge of the Eden City Botanical Gardens and most of the buildings around her were in no shape to provide shelter. Many had been destroyed by fire, and those that had survived had been done in by the snow, their roofs unable to take all of the excess weight.
Face all but numb from the cold, and body wracked with shivers, she stumbled on through the snow until she finally spotted a building that looked promising. It was a small hotel of some kind, the sort of place used mostly by tourists from out of town. Most of the windows were broken, but the roof seemed to be intact. Eyes narrowed, she checked her pistol. It would be at least a few days before her right hand was well enough to help hold a bigger gun, so for now, her pistol would have to do.
The inside of the hotel was like another world. Even with most of the windows blown out, the walls kept the worst of the wind at bay, and she was finally able to hear properly again, as well as actually feel her face. Slowly, she crept down the corridor, eyes scanning the near darkness for any movement as she listened keenly for even the softest noise. Along the way, she was careful to keep her backpack from bumping into anything. In her state, a few Infected might be more than she could handle. It was tricky though. Whatever had happened here had been bad. Chunks of wooden panelling had been ripped off the walls and there were holes in the floor and ceiling.
She reached the end of the corridor and winced. There was a body buried in snow. Above it was a broken skylight, which must have given way from all the snow. The only parts of the body that she could see were its hands. They were like claws, blackened from the cold. For a second, she thought they twitched, but the moment passed and she pressed on.
She checked a few more rooms before she reached a large room near the front of the hotel. It was reasonably well protected with all but one of its windows intact and the roof still in place. She shrugged off her backpack and went to work shoving some smashed furniture into the doorways. If something were going to come after her, it would have to make a heck of a lot of noise.
With the room as safe as she could make it, she grabbed a metal trash can from the corner and gathered some more broken bits of furniture. A bit of gasoline and a match got a fire started and she leaned back against a wall and closed her eyes. She could get a few hours sleep and then set off again in the morning. Admittedly, she hadn't gotten as far as she would like, but she'd just have to push herself extra hard to make up for it.
Something banged into the furniture near the doors and she jerked back into wakefulness. Had she fallen asleep? If so, how long had she dozed for? However, those thoughts were shoved aside as she saw the figure pushing through the furniture in front of one of the doors. Her eyes widened. It was one of the Infected and even if she didn't recognise its face, she definitely recognised its hands. Those were the hands that she'd passed earlier, the ones poking out from beneath the mound of snow.
The Infected tilted its head toward her, its head jerking into position, and then opened its mouth to shriek at her. However, the sound that came out was more of a hiss than anything else. It lurched forward, limbs moving jerkily, but then, to her surprise, it stumbled and nearly fell. The Infected got its feet again and stumbled toward her and her eyes widened in sudden realisation. The cold… the cold must have done something to it, because normally, the Infected would have been charging right at her at breakneck speed. Her lips curled. Well, it was nice to know she wasn't the only one suffering.
The Infected finally managed to break into something close to a run and Fang lifted her pistol and fired. The shot ripped a gouge into the Infected's shoulder, spinning it around, but in a moment, it was moving forward again. She cursed – she wasn't nearly as a good a shot with her left hand as she was with her right. With a growl, she fired again and then again. The first shot caught the Infected in the gut and the third blew a hole in its neck. As the Infected sagged to the ground, Fang took careful aim and squeezed off one more shot into its head. At last, the Infected lay still.
She'd have to remember this. The cold didn't kill the Infected, but it did seem to slow them down. Perhaps it was the fact they didn't wear much clothing. Infected or not, they still had muscles and blood, and all of those could freeze. Turning away from the corpse, she reached for her backpack. Despite the blood splattered onto the floor of the room from the Infected, she was hungry, and she knew better than to leave it until later. In this cold she would need every scrap of strength she could get.
After eating a few cans of soup heated over the fire in the trashcan, Fang curled back up against the wall and closed her eyes. If there were other Infected, they would have come by now, so she should be safe, at least for a while.
X X X
Fang awakened some time later from dreams of one of the first patrols she'd ever taken through the mountains. She'd just started as a ranger then, and she'd stumbled across a pack of mountain wolves. She could still remember how magnificent they'd looked with their grey pelts and cobalt eyes. They had growled at her, almost daring her to pick a fight as they surrounded their prey, a downed elk. Fang had just stared before turning and leaving them to their kill. She was good with a rifle, all right, but the wolves had ruled the mountainsides for years before the Yun came and gave their name to the mountains, and they would be ruling them long after the Yun were gone.
For a second, she thought she was still dreaming, but then she realised that the growling coming from the doorway was very, very real. She was on her feet in an instant, her pistol up and ready. There was a wolf there, standing tall and proud just inside the door. Its pelt was dark, mostly black but with streaks of silver. But its eyes… its eyes were something else. The wolf's eyes were a lush violet, an almost metallic shade that made them all but impossible to look away from. For several long moments, the two of them just stared at each other.
The wolf's lips curled revealing long, sharp teeth, but Fang held steady. She could not afford to show weakness now, even though the animal had to be able to smell the blood coming from her hand. But where could it have come from? Of course – the Eden City Zoo was right next to the botanical gardens. Once everything had gone bad, the animals must have gotten free. Most likely, the wolf was simply looking for something to eat. Her lips twitched. If she was lucky, it might be partially tame from all of its years in the zoo. If she were unlucky, then maybe it was angry from all of its years of confinement.
"Don't make me shoot you," Fang murmured as she eased the safety off the pistol. The wolf's violet eyes gleamed and it stalked forward, stopping a little over ten feet away. At this distance, Fang would only get one shot, but she'd make sure she only needed the one. Almost absentmindedly, the wolf glanced at the Infected lying dead on the floor not far away. Could animals even get Infected? Fang wasn't sure. She'd never seen any Infected animals, so maybe they couldn't. Certainly, animals hated the Infected with a passion.
Then the wolf's eyes turned back to her.
"Don't," Fang whispered softly. "I'm not here looking for a fight. I'm just looking for someone."
The wolf's eyes met hers once again and then, in a flash of black and silver, it turned on its heel and was gone as quickly and silently as it had come. With a sigh of relief, Fang sagged back against the wall and slid to the floor. A small chuckle left her lips. If a wolf had managed to survive, then maybe Vanille had too.
When morning finally came, Fang set off again, her pace as brisk as she could manage. The snow continued to fall, but the Infected she had expected to be wandering the streets in packs had not appeared. She ran into a few, but the cold, which only got worse through the day, made them lethargic and she was able to pick them off without too much difficulty. Her main problem, however, was that she couldn't find a working car or truck. The ice and snow had either buried or damaged everything.
As night fell once again, she was treated to an almost ridiculous sight. A deer sprang out from behind a car and for a split-second the two of them just froze. No doubt, the deer was just as surprised to see her as she was to see it. In a flash, she had her pistol out. The weapon barked three times and the deer went down, fatally wounded.
That night, she ate well, hidden away in the ruins of a convenience store. However, she was not alone for long. Perhaps drawn by the fire she'd started, the wolf padded in through the shattered doors of the convenience store. The animal eyed her for a moment and then glanced at the carcass of the deer that she'd dragged in too. Without a word, she cut a slab of meat off as best she could with one hand and tossed it to the wolf.
"Here," Fang said. "It's not like I can carry it with me." She chuckled. "But you'd better keep that in mind the next time you feel hungry. I gave you food, so that means no making a meal out of me."
The next few days passed by in a similar fashion. The weather had slowed her pace to a crawl and a journey that should have taken her a few days at the most turned into almost a week of slogging through the ice and snow. Only the hope that Vanille was still alive kept her going when she was cold all the time and her body ached from fighting the snow and the wind. The wolf was there too, treading just out of sight, and each night he came to her as she sat by her fire. After the first night, she got into the habit of throwing him whatever scraps of food she had. By the time a blizzard forced her into an abandoned subway station, the wolf had grown comfortable enough to sleep on the opposite side of the fire, his head tucked onto his paws.
Some people might have called her crazy to let the wolf stay so close, but it wasn't like she could get rid of him without a fight. If she shot at him and failed to kill him, the wolf would retaliate and they would probably both end up dead. Besides, it was clear from his behaviour that the wolf was used to humans. Perhaps he'd been raised at the zoo, which would certainly explain things.
In any case, it helped to have him there. The wolf was a reminder that not everything was dead that some things, at least, could survive the Infected. And that night, as she slept on the cold concrete of the subway platform, the wolf proved his worth again. After all, animals hated the Infected, and the wolf was no different.
She awakened to hear the wolf growling loudly. His violet eyes were locked onto the blackness of the subway tunnel and she forced herself onto her feet. She could hear footsteps. It had to be Infected, and from the sound of it, there were at least a dozen of them, maybe more. Hands shaking from more than just the cold, she reached for her shotgun. Her right hands till hurt horribly whenever she had to do too much with it, but it was good enough now to help her handle the bigger weapon.
A few moments later, the footsteps turned into screams as the Infected poured out of the tunnel and onto the platform. In the flickering firelight, she could make out more than a dozen of them and she wasted no time in bringing her shotgun up and firing. The first shot hurled one of the Infected back, blown almost in half. A second shot shredded the head of another Infected and then they were reaching for her, their claw-like hands extended to rip and tear, their jaws wide open to revealing gleaming, gore encrusted teeth.
She slammed the butt of the shotgun into the first of the Infected. The Infected, who had once been a young woman, jerked back, jaw broken so that the bones showed. For a moment, nausea welled up, but Fang forced the feeling down as she levelled the shotgun and fired to finish it. Then another was on her and another. Claws raked at her back, and she gave a silent prayer of thanks that her coat was thick enough to ward off the worst of the blows.
Firing twice more, she downed another one of the Infected and drove another back into a pillar, its chest a mangled ruin. With a growl, she slapped the shotgun down on the top of its head, breaking its skull open. Blood and gore bubbled up and the Infected sank onto the ground as she turned to face another. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of black and silver as the wolf entered the fray, biting and pawing, seemingly without care.
Suddenly, something slammed into her from behind. She stumbled and then fell as the Infected clawed at her back and snapped at her neck with its teeth. Screeching hideously, the Infected ripped a hole in the back of her coat and then slammed her head into the platform. Fang cursed, tasted blood, and saw stars. Desperately, she bucked and threw one elbow back. She caught the Infected across the cheek and knocked it off as she turned, aimed her shotgun, and blasted the Infected back, a hole blown clean through its gut. To her horror, it tried to get back onto its feet until her second shot put it down for good.
More of the Infected closed in on her, and Fang cursed again as her shotgun clicked empty. Quickly, she went for her pistol and picked her shots. She dropped several more Infected before she was forced to go for the big knife at her side. It was a clumsy thing to use with gloves on, but it was better than nothing, and she swallowed back bile as the heavy blade dug right into the eye of one Infected before she wrenched it free and buried it in the cheek of another.
There were only two Infected left now, and the wolf was dealing with one of those. But as the other rushed toward her, she tripped over a crack in the surface of the platform and went down. Her head hit the concrete with a thump and she felt the pain for her earlier brush with the platform return tenfold. Stars danced along her vision and she blacked out for a split-second. When she came back to herself, the Infected was right on top of her, clawing and biting. Desperately, she reached for her knife, which she'd dropped, but the weapon was just out of reach. She gave a hysterical laugh. She was going to die from tripping over a crack in the platform? How pathetic.
But then the wolf was there. The wolf's jaws closed around the Infected's neck and the animal wrenched the Infected off. Caught between laughing and crying, Fang grabbed her knife and drove it into the Infected's head. The Infected twitched wildly until Fang jerked the blade up and across. At last, the Infected lay still.
The wolf let go of the Infected and the body hit the platform with a wet thump. The wolf had a few cuts along his flanks, and some of his fur was matted with blood, but on the whole he seemed fine. More to the point, she thought, he didn't seem to be Infected.
"Come here," Fang said as she grabbed some of her water to wash the blood from the wolf's muzzle. "I owe you one."
The wolf remained still as Fang washed the blood away and she gave it an affectionate pat on the neck. All those nights of feeding it must have paid off if it had chosen to help her. Her fingers touched something that wasn't fur and she leaned down to examine the collar all but lost in the lushness of the wolf's pelt.
The information on the collar didn't come as much of a surprise. Just like she'd thought, the wolf did come from the Eden City Zoo, although the name was interesting.
"Bahamut," she murmured. "A strange name for a wolf." She grinned and hobbled back to her fire. She had some beef jerky that she could share. "You're not a dragon, but I guess you'll do."
That night the wolf slept beside her and she couldn't help but wonder whether or not this was some kind of cosmic joke. After all, what were the odds of someone from the Yun mountains meeting and befriending a wolf named after one of the spirits revered by the Yun in ancient times? Well, whatever it was, she'd take it.
X X X
Fang had to bite back a smile as Bahamut fell into step beside her. Ever since the fight in the subway, the wolf had taken to walking alongside her. When she finally got to Vanille, the red head would have an absolute field day. Fang had come looking for her and had somehow managed to pick up a wolf along the way. Still, she had more than just Bahamut's company to thank for her good mood. After what felt like an eternity of struggle, the university was only a few more minutes away.
"You'll like Vanille," Fang said, glancing down at Bahamut. The wolf tilted its head to one side as if to ask who Vanille was and Fang chuckled. "Vanille is my sister. She's kind and friendly, and knowing her, she'll spoil you rotten." Fang smirked. "Yes, she'll probably try and convince me to give you my portion of the food."
A few minutes later, Fang's good mood was gone. She had reached the university. Or at least, she had reached what was left of it.
She stood stock still in the middle of the snow-covered road, the wind whipping her face. This couldn't be real. She had to be seeing things. The university was just… just gone. Slowly, she sank onto her knees, only dimly aware of Bahamut nudging her side. Everything… everything had burned down except for the biggest building and most of those seemed to have collapsed from all the snow. Even worse, the entire area around the university was much the same. The whole place was like one big, black, scorched scar seared into the earth and only poorly hidden by the snow.
She lurched forward and had to put one hand up to her mouth as she felt bile burn at the back of her throat. Her ears rang and she felt her vision grow dim as she forgot how to breathe.
Breathe.
She had to breathe.
A ragged sob welled up from deep inside her as she forced herself to stand. It couldn't be that bad. Maybe… maybe her eyes were just playing tricks on her. Once she got closer, things would look better. There had to be something left. There just had to be.
But there wasn't.
Everything was just as she'd seen it, either burnt to the ground or toppled under feet of snow. Scarcely aware of what she was doing, she began to make her way toward the dormitories. Vanille had always been smart so she'd gotten a scholarship, and with the scholarship had come a room in the dormitories. Fang knew because Vanille had sent her pictures of her room.
Vanille's room was near the southern end of the dormitory and she had a study table in one corner of her room along with an old television, the bulky kind that sold for practically nothing now that all the new models were much smaller and lighter. The room had bright green carpet too, the kind that only Vanille could ever find cute, and her bathroom had a weird orange shower curtain that made Fang wonder just who was responsible for decorating the dormitories. Then there was the bookshelf and wardrobe, both a little dusty because Vanille was too busy to clean them, and finally the old, worn blue rug by the door.
But the dormitories were gone.
Fang dropped to her knees in the snow. She'd come all this way and found nothing but ash and snow. But maybe… maybe Vanille had found somewhere else, somewhere else to hide while the whole city burned and died and bled. But even as that thought occurred, the part of Fang that had kept her alive this far, the same, ruthless part that took over whenever she had to kill, that same part spoke up, and what it had to say wasn't pretty.
Vanille was dead. Trained soldiers, soldiers armed to the teeth and ready for anything had all died when faced by the Infected. How could Vanille, her sweet, kind, slightly eccentric Vanille have survived what hardened soldiers had not? It was impossible, utterly and totally impossible. Heck, she was a ranger, someone used to living out in the wild on her own and she had barely made it this far. She'd been able to lie to herself this far because she hadn't had to stare the truth in the face. But now, surrounded by the ruins of the university, by the absolute proof of her failure to protect the one person in the world she loved, she knew. She knew and the knowledge was like ashes in her mouth.
Bahamut growled and Fang looked up. There were two Infected there. Tears trickled down her cheeks and she reached for her shotgun. Laughing and crying at the same time, she closed the gap between them and fired. The shotgun roared and she felt a stab of pain ripple through her right hand. Instead of wincing, she welcomed it. Pain was good. She deserved it. She deserved it for failing Vanille.
As the Infected twitched and lay still on the ground, she looked around. The university lay in ruins but that wasn't enough for her. She wanted to kill all of them. Furious, she fired again, howling as the shot ripped one of the Infected to pieces in a vivid explosion of gore. Chest heaving, she glanced back and forth. Everyone had said Vanille would be fine away from her, that Vanille would be safe at Eden City University, that she'd get an education and make something of herself. And Fang… Fang had believed them, had believed that Vanille's place was somewhere away from her. She'd been stupid and foolish and naïve when Vanille had needed her to be better and now… now Vanille was gone.
If only Vanille had just stayed in Oerba, they'd be together right now. Fang could protect her and look after her and make everything all right again somehow. But there was no making any of this right again, not now, not ever again. Scarcely aware of what she was doing, Fang stalked toward the Great Hall, the last building standing in the university. There were some Infected there and she mowed them down with merciless efficiency. Her body screamed with protest as she pushed herself harder, but she refused to listen. Maybe if she'd pushed herself harder she would have gotten here earlier, maybe… maybe she would have gotten here before everything burned and the whole city died.
The last Infected rushed at her, and she reached for her knife. The weapon was awkward in her left hand, but it hardly mattered as she drove the blade into the Infected's neck and twisted. Its head came half off and she followed it down, ignoring the reedy howl coming from its mangled neck as she stabbed down into its head and body again and again. By the time she was done, the Infected was a smear, a mass of mangled flesh and blood splattered all over the snow.
Fang dragged herself back to her feet and fumbled for something, anything that she could throw at the side of the Great Hall. Her hand closed around a piece of debris and she flung it at the side of the Great Hall as hard as she could.
"You bastards had to take her from me!" she screamed as she drew her pistol and fired at the wall. "She was safe with me! We were happy and now…" Fang bit back a sob and lifted the gun to her own head. Without Vanille there was no point in going on. She swallowed thickly. Just a squeeze of her finger and it would all be over…
However, before she could pull the trigger, she looked back at the side of the Great Hall. All of the shooting had knocked loose the snow and frost that clung to the wall and there written in big, orange letters was her salvation. Eyes wide, she dropped the pistol and ran to the wall, tracing her hands over the letters. Was this real?
"Vanille," she murmured, reading the words aloud. "Vanille and Lightning were here. Gone to Bodhum to see the beach."
A crazy peal of laughter bubbled up from inside her and Fang fell onto her back. Bahamut padded over to her and she threw her arms around him.
"The beach?" She was laughing so hard that her sides hurt and great tears of joy were rolling down her cheeks. "Of course she'd want to see the beach at a time like this."
Fang scrubbed at her cheeks and picked up her pistol. Vanille was alive – she was alive and she was going to Bodhum. Whoever this Lightning person was, Fang would give them anything in the world if they could just get Vanille to Bodhum in one piece.
For the first time in a long time, Fang felt hope, real hope. "Come on, boy," Fang said as she got to her feet and patted Bahamut on the head. "We need to get to Bodhum." She grinned. "And when I get there, I'll be sure to buy this 'Lightning' a drink."
X X X
Author's Notes
As always I neither own Final Fantasy, nor am I making any money off of this.
So… it's been a while, but this time, at least, I think I have a legitimate excuse for the delay. I've recently moved house and with that came a whole laundry list of things that needed doing. Not only is packing a hassle, but then there's the actual process of moving followed by the unpacking – a task that still isn't completely done. Then there was the problem of internet… for reasons that I won't go into, getting internet up and running at my new residence has been quite a hassle, although I do hope to have that solved shortly. In any case, writing has taken something of a backseat for the past few weeks, which may account for my feeling pretty rusty when writing this.
As for the chapter itself, you'll probably notice the similarities between this chapter and Lightning's when she reaches Eden City. That is quite deliberate as Fang and Lightning are, in many respects, quite similar, especially when it comes to their deep affection for their sisters.
Bahamut (the wolf) was something I added in when I was tossing around ideas for the chapter. I was originally going to have the Eden City Zoo play a more central role, possibly by having one of the characters stumble across it, but I realised it would probably stretch credulity a bit to have our favourite characters fighting off a pride of lions and Infected at the same time. Sure, it would be cool, but there's cool and then there's crazy, and I think that idea was more of the latter than the former. In any case, I did want to keep something from the zoo and it occurred to me that the animals wouldn't just lay down and die, they'd try to live. Add to that the fact that I think Fang would be good with animals and that a wolf that's been raised by people might potentially look for people and we have Bahamut. Of course, Fang didn't have to share her food. If she'd attacked Bahamut, things would have been very different, but she was kind when she didn't have to be and it paid off.
With regards to the Infected and the cold, I want to explain several things (all of which Fang has sort of already worked out herself). The cold does not kill them, but it does slow them down. Whatever the Infection is (an issue I haven't dealt with in the story yet), it does not make the Infected invincible killing machines. They are still flesh and blood and exposing what is basically still human tissue to extremely cold weather (e.g., the kind of weather that occurs in this chapter) is going to have effects, although they are still going to be extremely dangerous to anyone who isn't properly prepared for them. This is actually a point that has puzzled me for some time when it comes to zombie fiction. If zombies are basically infected human beings, why isn't their body affected by the environment around them? I'm not talking about them whining about how cold it is, but leave a slab of meat out in freezing weather and it going to ice up and go hard. Unless a zombie can somehow keep their blood and flesh warm enough to operate efficiently, it is difficult to see how they could just behave as usual in the freezing cold.
Now that I'm settled in again, I hope to resume writing as usual. I'm currently working on my other stories and a piece of original fiction. I'm more than 80, 000 words in on the original, but it will probably end up being closer to 120, 000 words when it's done. Sigh. I'll have to trim it a little, probably. While I haven't posted that anywhere, I will say that it is the story that Whispers of the Gods is a cross over with (i.e., Whispers of the Gods is kind of a cross over between that story and Final Fantasy).
As always, I appreciate feedback. Reviews and comments are welcome.