Sheva sat on the steps of the hut on the small island in the middle of the swamp lake, waiting for lunch to cook, trying not to think too hard on the destruction of an entire civilization and their way of life.
They'd managed to get the next two slates, though both had been very close calls. One had necessitated that they wade through a gated pool full of giant crocodiles. The other had seen them cornered at the back of an inland village and swarmed by nearly two dozen Ndipaya Majini. As though that hadn't been bad enough, one of them had presented a whole new threat – a Plaga form that was not only photoresistant, but was also so heavily armored that the most they were able to do was avoid it until they could make a way through the crowd. It had had some sort of vulnerable part, a fleshy mass dangling from its hip, but they'd pumped half a dozen heavy rounds into it with hardly any effect, and had finally given up on it.
Chris had nearly had his head taken off by the thing. But when it had lunged for him, he'd grabbed a Majini and whirled it around. The youngish, grey-skinned man had been promptly bitten in half.
She shuddered at the memory. She'd only seen a decapitation once before. They were by far the most disturbing form of execution, in her opinion. But taking off the entire top half of the body? Ugh.
They were stopping for lunch. They'd come across a fish farm on their way, and Chris had had a fish snagged and killed before she'd even been able to ask what he was doing. He'd tossed her the slippery find when they'd hopped back on the boat, and she'd taken the time to gut and fillet it. The fillets were now cooking on the fire beside a few eggs.
They'd stopped at an island in the middle of the lake, one where the Majini had kept chickens. Having no value to them now that they were all mad and infected, the island had been abandoned, and had held no enemies when they'd arrived. A dozen or so eggs were scattered around the small island, though some were rotten. She'd found the fresh ones, and Chris was cooking them up while she took care of a small wound she'd acquired on her left forearm.
If she'd been told a week ago that she would have the opportunity to examine Ndipayan architecture and culture up close, she'd have been thrilled. She would have loved the opportunity to speak with the villagers, learn more about their history, and hear their myths around the campfire. But now, thanks to las Plagas…to Irving…
Chris flipped their lunch off the crude stone stove they'd found, onto a simple wooden plate he'd picked up running through one of the buildings. They could share the platter, and eat with their utility knives. As he came over and sat down, he asked, "How's that arm?"
She rolled her shoulder. "It's fine."
He held the platter out to her, and she flipped open that utility knife, skewered a well-cooked piece of fish, and popped it into her mouth. A pinch of salt wouldn't have gone awry, but the taste of the flesh itself was fine. Fairly mellow. It reminded her of rainbow trout.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, and she could feel her body savoring the protein-rich food. Fish and eggs – this really was a lucky find.
"Something's bothering you. What is it?"
Chris was looking down at her, and she could just pick out the mild concern on his brow. He had one of those stern, rugged faces that didn't give too much away at any given time; but when she was fighting alongside someone, she learned to read them fast. And apparently Chris had learned to read her, too.
Or maybe she was just that transparent. "Its's nothing. Not really. It just…disturbs me, seeing such a vibrant culture destroyed so quickly, so needlessly."
He nodded, looking around the tiny island. Great masks, intricately carved and painted, hung here and there from the gates and fixtures. The building they were sitting outside of, though simple in appearance, was likely sturdier than most buildings in Kijuju. The chickens had clearly enjoyed excellent care before their abandonment, as had the rest of the livestock they had seen thus far. Though they may have been limited in their capacity to advance by sheer resource shortage, they had no lack of good thinkers, nor a lack of care. Nevertheless, they were now effectively extinct.
"How long were these guys around?" Chris asked.
"Oh, this tribe is thousands of years old," Sheva replied, and Chris's jaw dropped. "At least, that is what archaeologists theorize," she added, laughing lightly. "They've never been able to get as many samples of the Ndipayan culture as they'd like, so it's up in the air; but the tribe can very easily be traced back at least seven hundred years."
"Wow. So has this swamp been their home all that time?"
She grabbed a chunk of egg and swallowed it whole, thinking back on the stories she'd heard of the Ndipaya in her youth. "Oh, no. Rumor has it that they once dwelt in a grand, ancient city deep in the bowels of the earth, led by an immortal king. Under his rule, they built great wonders within the city's depths, and he ruled them for many centuries. But the king became too haughty, believing himself to be a god amongst mortals, and paid some great insult to the gods. In response, the gods commanded the earth to spew forth vicious beasts to lay the city low and slay the arrogant king. With their city overrun and their king slain, the Ndipaya fled to the swamp, for the beasts of the lower caverns could not bear sunlight. Here they have dwelt ever since. But it is said that, one day, a new king will rise amongst them, immortal as the king of old; or perhaps the old king will shirk the bonds of death and return to them. Whatever the case, when that happens, they will reclaim their city, drive the beasts from it, and build it again, grander and more glorious than ever it was."
"You'd be a hit at campfire stories."
She laughed again, mood lightened, and grabbed the plate. Chris had finished his half of the breakfast, so she grabbed the last of the fish and eggs, scrambled it together, and shoveled it down. That would keep her going for a few hours. "The King of the Ndipaya is one of the more popular myths in the country, though the Ndipaya themselves do not appreciate…did not appreciate…the interest it generated in them. They were not much kinder to outsiders than we have seen thus far, though before they would at least have the courtesy to threaten you with execution before actually carrying it out – give you the chance to run if you cared to."
Chris set the plate down and stood up, stretching. "Hey, I can appreciate a people who like their privacy. Wouldn't mind having some of my own, if I could afford it. Anyways, let's get—"
"Chris, Sheva, this is HQ. Do you copy?"
They both perked up. "This is Sheva, copy."
"This is Chris, copy."
"We managed to get the Plaga expert, though we only have a limited amount of time to question him. He's read through the data file, and is on the line now. Please concisely relay the information you've gathered on the parasite thus far."
Sheva was surprised by this turn of events. They'd mentioned a Plaga expert, but to her knowledge, there was only one…and he was very, very reclusive. "We have a Plaga expert on the line?"
A new voice, male, accented, and extremely ornery came on . "Sí. Now if you will kindly describe the Plagas you have encountered thus far and how they have behaved in combat so I can give you my two cents on the matter and leave, I would greatly appreciate it."
Chris didn't hit his transmitter as he said, "Well, I'll be damned. I think I have an idea of who we're talking to." He hit the button and said, "We've encountered five smaller Plaga forms, and one larger one. Maybe two. The smallest ones have been present in many of the enemies we've killed, and seem to be the youngest. They regularly burst out of the mouths of the Majini – Ganados, if you prefer—"
"Majini are fine, these things are clearly different. Continue."
"—and they don't seem to be overly bothered by sunlight. They are too small to extend far outside of the host body, though I suppose if they closed with you, they could do some serious harm."
"But they emerge regularly in broad daylight, sí?"
"Correct," Sheva chimed in.
"…understood. The next type?"
She took over. "A large variety that bursts from the head in darker environments, and thrashes violently. It extends four to five feet out of the neck, has bony spikes near the tip, and long, thin, joined legs near the base. It is predominantly grey in color. The only time we've seen this kind on the surface was when it burst out in a house, and though it did follow us out into the sunlight, it was extremely agitated by it, struggling to shrink back inside the body within a few moments. We encountered many more in the mines, where it was dark, and they showed some discomfort when faced with bright light."
"Gotcha. Next?"
"Another smaller variety we've seen we only just encountered." Chris again. "It doesn't just burst out of the neck, but destroys the entire upper half of the host's body. Everything from the hips up, basically. It forms a sort of fleshy, petaled bulb that it keeps clamped closed when it's not trying to kill you, and unfurls to attack. It has a tail containing the ribs and some organs trailing behind it, and while this is more sensitive, it doesn't seem like much of a vulnerability. Painful to hit, but not debilitating. We didn't get a great look at its insides, but the outer shell is hard as hell – nearly impervious – and its whole carapace is lined with teeth. We watched it literally bite another Majini in half."
"Not the best self-control, then?"
"Hard to say. It lunged for me, I pulled a fast one whirling a Majini around to take the hit. It definitely didn't let go of the thing once it had it, though. Just kept biting down."
"Understood. Go on?"
"Infected dogs. Colmillos, I think?"
"Anything special about them?"
"Their bodies split open top-to-bottom halfway down their necks. Doesn't make them a lot more dangerous, but it sure makes them a lot uglier."
"And the last lesser Plaga type?"
Sheva chimed in again. "A flying variety, one that can burst fully out of corpses and damaged Majini. They fly around in broad daylight, it doesn't bother them. They take a few shots to kill, and they are very dangerous. A swarm of them took down our air support."
"Flying AND photoresistant? Most disturbing…next?"
Chris went over to the water's edge, knelt down, and washed his knife off. "I don't need to ask if you're familiar with thoseEl Gigantesfrom the Kennedy Report."
"Oh, lovely. How tall?"
"About maybe twenty-four feet. Very strong, but very, very dumb."
"Sounds like El Gigante. Did a giant Plaga come out of its spine when you damaged it enough?"
"Yeah, but first we dealt with a whole load of smaller ones. Two were more or less the size of normal emergent Plagas, maybe a bit bigger, and when we shot those off, the huge one erupted out of the giant's back. I tried a flashbang on it."
For the first time since the start of the conversation, the speaker sounded interested. "Oh? A flashbang? How did it react? This was at night, by the way?"
"Yes, night, and the thing nearly fell apart," Sheva said. "It was fried – chunks of flesh melting off of it, limbs dropping to the ground, the works. The next time it came out, we were able to destroy it fairly easily."
"I see…fascinating. It would seem, based on what you tell me and what I've read, that these people have attempted to breed new Plagas that are not as sensitive to sunlight. However, whatever trait they instilled in the bulk variety to give them photoresistance is only present in the young ones. As they grow and expand, it seems the property diminishes, maybe disappears altogether. I would guess that this shelled Plaga is a totally different breed, one designed to use a physical, external barrier to keep out lethal levels of light, as well as enhance durability. And the giant does not sound very different from a garden-variety Gigante. Same with the dogs. The flying ones I will need to study further."
Chris nodded. "Gotcha."
"Any more?"
"There was a giant bat monster, but I have no idea if it was related to las Plagas. If it was, it was completely indifferent to sunlight, and showed no discernable Plaga traits. Personally, I think it was just a regular old B.O.W."
"I see."
"So your advice for us?" Sheva prompted.
"Assume that larger, more mature Plagas will be more photosensitive. If they have external, protective casings, try to goad them into opening, and attack whatever is inside, if it is not possible to avoid them. Toss a flashbang down the hatch if you can. Do not let them close with you. Treat seemingly dead bodies very cautiously. Basically, do what you have been doing."
Chris asked, "Remind me why they called you in again?"
"Coño, how the hell should I know? I told them I was retired!"
A crackly sigh came over the radio. At this point, another voice flitted in, young and feminine. It was softer, like it was coming from the same room as the speaker, but a foot or two away from the mic.
"…hey Luis, you okay…? Solomon said daddy sounded upset…"
The radio cut off abruptly, and Chris looked over at her with a quick, quirky expression. She bit back a small smile. She couldn't say for sure, of course, but she suspected that was the speaker's wife.
"Huh. Well, if we'd needed any confirmation on who we were talking to…" Chris said.
"Dr. Luis Sera himself. Poor man," she said sympathetically. "He just wants to be left in peace. I heard he has a family."
"I heard he pissed off the previous president by knocking up his youngest daughter while he was living in their guest house."
Sheva had started taking a drink of water, but quickly coughed half of it up. She wasn't much one to follow big scandals, but good lord – how had she missed that?
"Eh, sorry about that. Working from home. Now, I'll keep scanning these data files, and if I find anything interesting in them, I'll contact you. But in the meantime, I have one other piece of advice. Do not assume that, because a Plaga can withstand the sun, it will be immune to flash grenades. I have reason to believe that rapid exposure to intense light will have a serious adverse effect on most varieties of Plaga. Any questions?"
"No," Chris said.
"I think we'll be fine," Sheva said.
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
The line went dead. A moment later, HQ came back on.
"We'll be able to reestablish that link if we need to, but it's tough to set up, so if you have any further information to report on las Plagas, relay it to us and we'll forward it to him. Any luck on Irving?"
"We're continuing forward to the oil field now," Chris said. "We'll contact you when we apprehend him."
"Understood. Over."
They boarded the airboat and took off towards the gate. They zipped across the water for a few minutes before Sheva spotted something. "Hold," she called back. "What is that?"
Chris brought them cautiously around to the mass she saw floating in the water. They were nearly back to the gate. When they got closer, she saw that it was a body. Female, unless she was mistaken.
She stared hard at the corpse. It looked to be dressed in civilian clothes, though she couldn't tell much else at a glance, as the corpse was face-down. She could see that the woman was not grey-skinned, though. "That is the first woman I have seen since arriving here," she commented.
"The first woman we've seen, and she's dead. Wonder what that might mean?" Chris mused darkly.
They both pondered in silence for a moment. She for one genuinely could not figure the reason. Whatever the case, there was not much they could do with the information, so they moved along.
When they got to the gate, they slotted the four pieces in, and at once, some mechanism in the gate started grinding. When it fell silent, Chris gave the gate a try. It opened very easily.
They stepped in. Sheva's heart pattered both in anticipation of the attack that was no doubt imminent, and the sheer excitement of seeing what very few outsiders had ever seen before – the inner village of the Ndipaya.
The entrance was nothing special. A raised walkway leading over a stretch of swamp. Forest surrounded them, but a narrow channel had been cut into the earth, the ledge too high for them to reach. Water sat stagnant in the channel. They went down to the wade that would carry them onward and, seeing no other way through, stepped into it and started forward.
It twisted and wound through tall grass and reeds, but the bed of the stream felt sturdy. This was a constructed path. Upon seeing a structure up ahead, Sheva put a hand on Chris's shoulder to stop him advancing. Sentry station.
She peeked through the foliage and spotted a pair of sentries in the tower. She pulled out her sniper rifle and looked at them through the sights. Both grey-skinned, and now that she was paying attention to their details, slightly decomposed. Their eyes were zombie-white.
Her mood darkened. There went any hope of the infection being limited to the outer areas. "Sentries. Shall I?"
"Infected?"
"Yes."
"Go ahead."
She fired. One dropped. The other looked around for only a moment before she got him – it – too.
The waited for the swarm, but nothing happened. All was silent. They continued on to the village.
Sheva gasped upon catching sight of it at last. A short ascent out of the water and past the stations left them at the top of a low hill, the village stretching below, before, and above them. The sight was fairly stunning. Even Chris paused to take it all in, as well as take a picture.
The village was packed with buildings, large and small, all with thatched reed roofing. In that regard it was similar to the structures they'd seen thus far. But many of these buildings were built with clay or stone, beautifully painted on the outside, and dyed animal hides stretched to cover vulnerable parts of structures and sometimes just for clear aesthetic addition. There were multiple stories of buildings, with ziplines leading between the levels and paths winding gracefully between structures. Lovely ceramic pots stood here and there on porches and beside paths, ornate masks and carvings hung from the walls, and the logs in the great bonfire burning in the middle of town had clearly been artfully arranged. Even the plant life looked to have been cultivated for beauty and utility. And in the back of the village entrance, just in sight, rose a tall set of pillars with two great braziers burning at the top. White, tribal symbols had been painted up and down them, similar to those seen on the urns and vases. She was willing to bet there was yet more of the village to be seen beyond them.
"This is stunning," she murmured.
"It really is. Would have liked to see it before…you know."
She nodded sadly. "Yes. Now…let us find that gondola."
They started forward, moving fast and low, guns out. Sheva kept her eyes peeled for signs of the B.S.A.A. member that was supposedly captured in here, but she had little hope for the man.
As they reached the town center, beside the bonfire, a single high, ululating, musical battle cry rang out from one of the towers. Without further ado, Ndipaya warriors began rushing out of every hidden corner of the village.
Chris swapped handgun for auto right away. She quickly scanned the upper reaches of the town and caught sight of half a dozen archers, and began firing at these. She got four of them before the last two fired.
They launched more bags of explosives, and she barked, "Move!"
They moved. The explosions went off several feet from them. She got the last two archers, then they were thick in the fray. She swapped to her handgun and started firing.
This was a bad situation. She knew they would have to kill a good many of these things if they were to be able to search the village without getting killed, so she threw herself fully into the fight. Well-rested and recently fed, she felt galvanized by the battle, and though she hated to be using up so much ammo, she also recognized that in this situation they had no choice.
She swapped handgun for shotgun when the throngs crowded too close. Any time more archers appeared above them, she called for Chris to take over while she took them down. He always did so marvelously. At one point, when they backed into a corner by mistake and were besieged by at least thirty Ndipaya, he pulled out two incendiary grenades and let fly.
They dispersed the crowd, and set many grass skirts aflame. He was able to push forward and clear an alley for them, and they got back into the middle of the square. She took out two more archers. Things were moving very, very fast.
Another high cry warbled through the air, and she saw something emerging from an alley near the gate.
"Chris," she said tightly. The thing that was approaching was definitely not a simple Majini. It was nearly ten feet tall, and looked like something straight out of mythology.
Golden bangles clinked heavily on its ankles. It wore an undergarment belt of sorts, made of a series of thick brown ropes. Similar woven bands, crimson and yellow, wrapped around its wrists. Ornate gold and wooden bracers covered its upper arms. But what truly made it look supernatural was its headdress.
The headdress was as large as its own torso, had to weight at least a hundred pounds, yet it held its head high. It was pale wood, carved with four eyes, a fanged maw, and great, looping tusks. A massive flare of carved slats brushed out behind it in a mane that extended back to drape down its brawny shoulders in an intricate tangle of wood. A carven trunk, or perhaps long beard, slid down from its chin nearly to its belt. Yet more weaves of colors ropes and thick strings of gold and crimson beads hung from its throat.
"No headshots, I guess," Chris commented.
"No headshots," she agreed. Frankly, she hoped they could avoid damaging the masks at all. Those were living relics, and she desperately hoped they could be preserved. The Ndipaya deserved to be remembered.
She shook her head and dove back into the fight.
The giant Majini held one other article – a colossal mace that appeared to be made from stones, long spikes, and human skulls. Lots of skulls. It looked easily heavy enough to kill an elephant, and as soon as she saw the giant crouching, she called out, "Move!"and dove out of the way.
Chris did as well, and the colossus leapt into the throng, swinging its mace with such force that it would have killed them both instantly had it hit. As it was, she'd ducked, and it had flown over her head. Chris had jumped to the side, and it barely swept past him. The six Majini that had been attacking them were not so lucky. Most were killed instantly, she could see that at a glance, and one was impaled on the spikes. The giant brought its club back to itself, slumping it over its shoulder, totally heedless of the extra weight of an entire corpse on its back. This thing was going to be very, very hard to kill.
"We need to avoid this thing," Chris said. "Find a way out of here. Let's move!"
She pulled out her rifle and took a quick shot at its knee. Hitting it barely made it stumble, but it gave them time to dart around and head for the pillars. Unfortunately, there was no road beyond them – only a deep chasm with spikes at the bottom.
"Keep moving, look for a way to get across," he said.
Does he sound…worried? Strained?
She shook the thought off. They were fine. They had dealt with worse.
They ran to the left and began looping in and out of buildings, but the entire time, the colossus Majini was hot on their tails. It did not help that they were slowed up considerably by the throng that was still trickling in from all around them. They shot and struck and slashed furiously, barely managing to stay alive and keep moving forward.
They got to a dead end and Sheva's eyes widened. This was bad. But Chris was on it, and knelt to give her a hand. She stepped up, he heaved her to the roof of a building, and she quickly ran down the length until she was over approaching mob. They ignored her, sprinting for Chris, giant included.
"I don't think so," she said, pulling out two frag grenades and dropping them along the line.
BOO—BOOM!
Bodies went flying. The giant was stunned. Chris ran forward, dodging through the smoke and carnage, but as he made his way through, no less than three Majini rippled and burst. Plagas shot out of their ruined forms, tall and thrashing furiously in the thin grey light.
Damn! The day was heavily overcast. Clearly these things could withstand anything other than direct sunlight.
Do not assume that, because a Plaga can withstand the sun, it will be immune to flash grenades…
She narrowed her eyes. Chris was just extracting himself from the mess. She pulled out a flash grenade, yelled, "Flash!" and he covered his eyes.
She pulled the pin and threw, covering her face as well. The blast went off. When she opened her eyes…all three Plagas were bubbling, fleshy wrecks.
"Ha!" she yelped triumphantly.
"SHEVA, MOVE!"
She heard another high, ululating cry behind her, turned…and jumped straight into the air.
A second giant Majini had appeared, and incredibly, had managed to sneak up on her from a bridge connecting the roof of this building to a terrace nearby. Its mace swept by underneath her, but one spike caught her heel and she landed flat on her back with the cretin towering over her. It set its mace down, lifted both hands in a pair of fists, and brought them down with another cry.
She rolled into it, and crawled between its legs. It was big enough for the maneuver to work. Unfortunately, it was also faster than the Gigante, and it grabbed her ankle before she could make it all the way through.
It dragged her back and hoisted her clean into the air, regarding her steadily for a few seconds. She was slightly stunned from the tumble, and felt, for the first time that day, a sharp deluge of fear as she regarded her predicament.
Am I about to die?
She looked around, but she did not see Chris. Where was he?
"Chris," she gasped out, and the Majini looked around. The bonfire was burning in the middle of town, perhaps eight feet away from the building. Large logs, all carved down to points, stuck out of it in an arrangement that she had regarded as artful only ten minutes before, but that now struck terror into her as she realized what was about to happen.
It shifted her in its grip – she tried to kick, to wriggle free, to no avail – and stepped over to the edge of the building. Even in her fugue, she couldn't help a sliver of amazement at the thought that the roof was sturdy enough to withstand the abuse of a ten-foot tall, heavily armed and armored Majini.
This reed-thatched roof must be withstanding three or four hundred pounds. The Ndipaya were truly great architects…
Then it hoisted her up and prepared to throw her onto the bonfire.
Her eyes widened. She kicked. "CHRIS!" she screamed.
At that moment, the roof beneath her exploded.
She was stunned, and went flying as the Majini yelped and toppled off the roof. She expected to hit the ground, but when she got her bearings, she found herself caught in a pair of arms instead.
She uncrossed her eyes and saw Chris looking down at her. "You okay?" he asked.
She looked around. "What happened?"
Everything was blurry. She saw Majini rushing them, still, but fewer than there had been before her frag grenades. The first giant was emerging from the alley they'd been trapped in, and the second one…
Oh. Its feet seemed to have been partially blown off, and it was struggling to its knees beside the fire. She still couldn't tell what had happened.
"I'll explain later," he said shortly. "Can you fight?"
She wasn't sure…but she nodded anyways. Whether she could or not, she needed to.
He set her on her feet, and she kept upright. Then she drew her gun and started firing. She missed the first few shots, but she was getting her head back quickly. Chris covered her until she did.
"We can't keep going like this," Chris said, and now she could really hear the strain in his voice. "We've already used up too much ammo. Let's try the other side, where the giants came from. We need a way across."
They went for it. They took off down a short alley, up a few small rises, and spotted two useful things. One was a gate leading to the other side of the village. The other was a crank.
They tried the gate. Locked, and too high to jump. Chris grabbed the crank instead and started heaving. At once, she saw a drawbridge start rising in the chasm.
"Go, see if you can get the gate," Chris grunted. The crank looked very heavy.
She turned and tried sprinting to get around to the gate, but it was hard. She was still slightly dazed. She pushed on, though, pulling out her shotgun and firing off round after round to force her way through…as well as to draw the Majini's attention. Chris needed to man the crank.
She encountered both giant Majini, one walking towards her, one crawling. The mace wound up again, and she narrowed her eyes. Not this time.
She ducked this one, then darted forward and leapt up, jumping on the crippled Majini giant's back. It tried to snatch at her, grab her once more, but she dodged it and went running. They both let loose with their ululating battle cries and turned to pursue her.
She got to the drawbridge. It was almost up. She turned and fired a few more rounds to keep the Majini at bay – the giants were closing – and as soon as it was level, she turned and sprinted across.
She glanced over, and her eyes widened as she saw Chris being swarmed by Majini. Three of them, thankfully unarmed, had thrown themselves on him and were pummeling him furiously. But he was holding onto the crank, unwilling to let the bridge fall.
As soon as she was over, she shouted, "Chris, DROP IT!"
He did. The two giant Majini, and four smaller ones besides, who had been right behind her, fell as the drawbridge dropped.
They were all impaled on the spikes below, some with screams of agony, but she had no mind for that then. She sprinted around to where she thought the other side of the gate was, found the impediment, shot the one Majini guarding it, and hoisted the blockage out of the way.
She kicked the gate open and started firing furiously at the Majini, who had Chris on the ground by now. One reeled away, the rest looked up, and as soon as he had an opening, he kicked out and sent one flying.
The others went down fast. "Are you okay?" Sheva asked. He gasped a bit as he stood, clutching his abdomen, but she didn't see any blood.
"I'm…fine," he wheezed. She thought his voice sounded a bit high. "They just got…a few…bad hits in."
Oh. He wasn't clutching his abdomen. He was grabbing something a bit lower.
She winced…but it could have been worse. She knew he'd be wearing some pretty heavy protection down there, so while that no doubt must have been agonizing, it probably wouldn't be permanently damaging.
Once she got him back through the gate, she closed it and locked it up again. A couple dozen Majini on the other side howled their fury at being locked away from their prey, but tough on them. There were a handful on this side, but they were easily dispatched. For now, the fight was over.
They both leaned against the walls of the building they were in, breathing heavily. Sheva felt slightly ill, and took a long, slow drink of water to calm her stomach and cool her head. Chris just slumped down against the wall, recovering.
When they were ready to move on, they both stood and went outside. It looked like this was a residential sort of area, full of small homes, chicken coops, and a community fire – not a bonfire like the one across the way, but a simple firepit lined with logs for sitting, and long sticks for spearing and roasting food. Bones lay scattered here and there, but they didn't look human. They looked animal, and some were partially carved. Perhaps community bone carving was a common activity with the Ndipaya.
She picked up a small skull, inexpertly but carefully etched with a picture of a crocodile moving through reeds, and she pocketed this. She wanted some small reminder of this place as it had been before the infection.
As they went down the road, she poked her head into some of the huts. They would most likely be the last people alive to see the Ndipayan civilization before it rotted away. Even if there were many survivors, and recovery was possible, their culture would change drastically in the aftermath of this terrible infection.
She spotted in one hut a small, thin tome on a table beneath a window. She stepped in and picked it up. Opening it revealed a journal. Going by the somewhat clumsy handwriting and simplistic language, she guessed it was a child's journal.
"What's that?" Chris asked.
"Journal," she said, then started skimming through, seeing if she could find some recent entries. It was unlikely, but possible that the youth had recorded something that could tell them approximately what happened here.
Father took me fishing today. When I felt the tug, I thought I'd caught the biggest fish in the swamp! But it was a crocodile, and after pulling me away and teaching me how not to fish for crocodiles, father laughed at me and made fun of me the whole way home.
She smiled a little, and flipped further.
Andu stole my mask after school. I went and told mother about it, and she smacked me and told me to go get my mask back. So I went to fight Andu for it, but he beat me up. So I followed him home instead, and that night I snuck into his room, stole my mask back, and also put a jar of ants in his bed.
She chortled.
Andu stole my mask again today. I will try fire ants instead of black ants this time.
Now she outright laughed. What a find this journal was.
Her smile faded as she flipped forward further, and began reading the entry from February 28th.
A man who said he was the foreman of the oil plant came to visit us today. He said he wants to inoculate everyone living near the oil field against some kind of disease. In my parent's generation, they tricked our people and stole our land to turn it into their oil field. They must feel guilty about that because they are always trying to help our village now. Like when they built the gondola, or the machine underground that removes the salt from the water for drinking. Sometimes they'll even give us alcohol from foreign countries. This medicine is probably something like that.
Everyone in our village is glad to receive the medicine, but I don't want it. I don't have a reason for not getting it. I just don't like the way the foreman looks, that's all.
She felt a touch of relief. No doubt this 'inoculation' was what had infected the villagers. Perhaps this boy had escaped it?
March 2nd
Everyone went to the oil field to get the inoculation, including my father. The village is usually never this quiet. The only thing to do today is sleep.
March 3rd
I slept too much during the day, so I couldn't sleep at night, and it was so noisy outside. Everyone was talking with serious voices in the middle of the village. All of the children in the town had come down with a fever. The mothers all drew water to cool their bodies, but it didn't help. By the next morning, they were all dead.
In the morning our leader went down to the oil field. He wanted to know if the medicine they were given killed the children. When he came back, he said the children died because they had the disease. He told us that we all needed to go back for more shots. I didn't want to, but everyone in the village was worried about catching the disease. They forced me to go with them and get the shots.
She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. Damnit.
The next one did not have a date, but it was likely the fourth or fifth. People are fighting in the village. All the men are very angry. It might be because all the children died, but I think it's something else. The women just sit around and don't move. I wonder if the disease is spreading?
I couldn't sit still today. It felt like something was moving around inside me.
Damnit.
Outside I saw a man who looked very strange. He was naked and had a weapon. His entire body was covered in war paint. It wasn't even a festival day.
I tried to talk to him, but when he turned around, I saw his face. He didn't even look human!
What is happening to the people of my village?
The screaming has not stopped since yesterday. The men are all dressing like our ancestors and fighting each other. Most of the woman have died.
Head hurts. Fever. Feel angry.
Saw big man outside window. Very tall.
Must be vision.
Feel good
Screams stop
Looks fun
Want to kill
She set the journal down.
Chris waited for her to elaborate. She said, "It is the journal of a child in the village. It details how the infection came about. It looks like the foreman – probably Irving – told them there was a disease going around, and he wanted to inoculate the villagers against it. The shots killed all the children, as well as most of the women, it seems."
Chris's lip twitched up in a faint snarl of disgust. "That son of a bitch."
She nodded, but did not feel angry. Just sad, and tired. She put the journal in her pack and said, "Let's move along. The gondola must be nearby."
They started through the village, keeping mostly to the upper levels. She took many pictures, documenting as much of their culture as she could. A handful of Ndipaya jumped out at them here and there, but they wasted no more ammo on them. Their hand-to-hand skills were fine for taking them on one by one.
The village was nestled in a shallow canyon with forest stretching out to either side. Travelling along the chasm wall, they eventually found what they were looking for. "There," she said, pointing the gondola out.
They started over to it, passing by a deep cave in the canyon wall, but Chris paused going past. "Wait. Look there," he said, turning on his flashlight and aiming it down at something on the floor inside.
She looked and saw what had caught his interest. It was a B.S.A.A. tactical vest – bloodstained.
She sighed, and the deep breath told her something else. A foul smell was wafting faintly out of this cave. She knew she would not find anything good within.
She looked at him, half-hoping he would say, 'let's move along', but no such luck. "We need to confirm the death if we can. Let's go. Guns out."
She pulled out her shotgun and they started in. It wound back only a short way before they reached a drop-off. Beneath them stretched a large, dark chasm that reeked of decomposition.
A breeze swept through the cave towards them, and Sheva nearly vomited. This was beyond a reek. What…?
Then Chris aimed his light downward, and her mind drew a complete blank at the horror revealed.
It was an inlet of the swamp, the floor of the cave flooded with water. A few massive, bloated crocodiles looked up at the light and hissed, their eyes reflecting the light. All around them floated corpses. Dozens of corpses, perhaps a hundred or more, crowding every inch of water down the cavern until it hit a bend. For all she knew, and recalling the body they'd found earlier, the river of death could extend all the way to the swamp.
All of them were women and children.
She turned on her own light and looked straight down at the base of the drop-off. There was a small mountain of bodies here, rotting away in the cool wetness. At the very top, the butchered corpse of their missing Delta Team member.
He was face up, and mangled as he was, she recognized Tylor Nakisawa. She'd gone out for a few drinks with him in the past. He'd introduced her to sushi and hot sake. Yet another good man…gone.
Another breeze drifted up to them, carrying the stench of a hundred rotting children. This was too much for her. She turned away, dropped to her knees, and was sick.
Children. All of them. And most of the women, too. All dead, and tossed into a dark pit full of monsters. Dear God…why?
Chris stood moveless, staring silently out at the sight. When she stood and looked around, she saw his face, nearly expressionless.
Below them, in the pit, a crocodile decided it was hungry again. She watched it grab a child by the arm and start rolling sluggishly in the water. The body flopped up and down for a minute before the arm finally came free, disappearing down the great lizard's gullet. It went in for another bite.
She turned away. She did not want to watch this. "Damnit, Chris. What have we gotten ourselves into?"
He did not turn away. "You know what we've gotten ourselves into. And you know what we have to do."
"Irving."
He growled, low and deep. "Not just Irving. All of them. Every last one of the monsters that helped make this happen. We have to bring them all down. The researchers. The administrators. The damn janitors. The job won't be over until they're all brought under the axe."
She turned to look back at him, and it occurred to her that this was very possibly not the first time he had seen something like this. She knew he had been fighting the likes of Umbrella for more than a decade, and wondered how much horror he had seen.
No. She did not want to know that. She asked instead a parallel question, one that she imagined she already knew the answer to. "And how many of them have you managed to get so far?"
Too damn many, she expected him to say.
Instead he turned away, fire in his eyes, ice in his voice, and said, "Not nearly enough."
He stalked out of the cave, fingers strumming his pistol, and she wondered what the odds were of them getting Irving back to base alive.
After one last glance back at the pit – she took a picture, for the purpose of documentation – she followed him out.
OoO
And there he is :) If anyone doesn't know why Luis is here and would like to, feel free to give my RE4 fic, Heroes, a look!
Loves,
The Topaz Dragon