Act 7: Eye of the Storm
The storm's harsh winds subsided slightly while Drake trudged through the snow, his eyes though protected by a pair of goggles, they did little to enhance his vision with their frost-covered lenses. Was the Razor finally running its course Drake wondered? "Fat chance," the young lawman muttered, disdain thick in his voice. He wandered about aimlessly; looking for his grandfather and Ada Wong whom he'd had separated with so abruptly when they were attacked by the Kodiak, the monstrous mutant bear. The beast was ferocious before its transformation and its change did little for its temperament, as Drake witnessed first-hand, its destructive power. He felt for the diskette in his pocket, assuring he that it was there. His thoughts fled back to Federal Agent Ada Wong and assumed that the diskette belonged to her since he found it along with her gun. Probably it was the evidence hat she had procured from Blake's lair. Or so she claimed.
Things weren't as they seemed, that much Drake was certain. The townsfolk mysteriously becoming zombies, Ada Wong's appearance with her half-truths and veiled motives, the accusation of Blake being a supposed Arms dealer, Mayor Bernard's aid in helping Blake with his "experiments", the mysterious Jeremiah Smythe…things simply didn't add up. And with little time to think about it, Drake couldn't fit the pieces together, although one thing was certain, Ada wasn't all she said she was. Drake gave the closing moments in Blake's mansion heavy thought. Ada pointed the gun at him for a reason. To be rid of him? Or was it to avoid having to deal with him as a zombie? Or both? So now came the question, if Wong were really in danger, where would Drake stand?
"Like the tempest fury, the storm rages on. Its frosty winds would extinguish even the fiercest of infernos," a voice boomed, prompting Drake to turn a lamppost, noting the announcement speakers attached underneath its dead lights, part of the early warning system the town set up years ago. The passage read was familiar to Drake, the voice that read it eloquently he was most certain of. Jeremiah Smythe. "Yet the fires in the hearts of the people of Stonefeather shall never be extinguished and will burn everlasting in the hearts of our children in this place we call home," he continued. "Quaint, but rather inspiring I must admit," Smythe chuckled, Drake grinding his teeth at the sound of the man's disembodied voice. "Sheriff Hartmann, I trust you are doing well since our last encounter," he said, not a hint of arrogance or snide to contradict him. Drake moved on, knowing the town had several speakers all about. He wouldn't miss any of Smythe's speech. "I believe, you may be in possession of something that belongs to me. A diskette to be more precise."
Drake stopped in his tracks as two zombies lumbered into view, one of them turning to face Drake. Drake backed off slightly, his gun pointed at the zombie while the scent of fresh blood drove them towards him in frenzy. "Of course, I wouldn't dream of you simply returning it to me," continued Smythe while Drake fired at the attacking zombies, nailing one in the knees to send to stumbling forward. The other tripped over its fallen friend but recovered quickly to his feet as he scurried onwards towards Drake, mouth agape. Drake whipped out his knife, a slash across the zombie's face sent it stumbling back while the other grabbed onto his legs, its strong grip pulling Drake off his feet. "But perhaps a trade would appeal to you then? Ah, no doubt you must be thinking I have nothing that would interest you," spoke Jeremiah Smythe. 'Got that right' Drake thought as he smashed the heel of his shoe into his attacker's face, the blow forcing the zombie to release its grip while Drake placed a bullet in its head. Drake rose quickly while his other attacker attempted a pounce, only to have Drake's gun jammed into its gut, the sounds of three shots echoing throughout town along with the buzz of radio static emitting from the live speakers. "But perhaps you'll reconsider when you hear this." Drake shoved the dead body off of him; fresh blood on his already stained garments.
"Hartmann, whatever he says, don't…" the sound of a voice being muffled forced a dark expression on Drake's face. Ada. Smythe had Ada.
"You know where to find me," Smythe said finally, the buzz of static ceasing almost instantaneously. Drake frowned, pulling out the diskette. Whatever was on it must have been important but was it worth a person's life? Was Wong even worth it? Drake cursed under his breath. There was no choice really. He was the town's sheriff. And protecting people was what sheriff's did. Drake tucked his gun under is shirt and clenched his teeth hard as he headed for Stonefeather Elementary.
Daniel Hartmann remained silent throughout the mysterious announcement, heading for the town's Elementary school upon hearing the familiar Stonefeather Oath. He was somewhat thankful to know that somewhere out there, his grandson Drake was still all right, but wondered who or what he was dealing with. The man mentioned a trade, a diskette for Ada Wong, the Federal Agent Drake mentioned. Those behind the appearance of these zombies must have captured her. Drake was going to need help and Daniel was never one to shy away from a fight. He looked up at heavy snowfall, detecting a change in the winds. The eye of the storm was upon Stonefeather and Daniel prayed silently that Drake and him could brace it.
He reached the Elementary School a little under an hour, cautious of the Kodiak which was still out there somewhere and the zombies that lay hidden waiting for easy meat. Anger and frustration, more than fear now gripped Drake's heart but his tongue still tasted sour when he reached the doors of Stonefeather Elementary. Without much hesitation, Drake opened the door, sweeping his gaze all throughout the perimeter with his weapon at the ready. His caution paid off as four zombies standing in the hall turned to Drake, murderous intent in their eyes. The zombies ran towards Drake, three of them were once men, knocking down the sole female one as they came towards him in ravenous bloodlust. Drake didn't wait for them, firing accurately as slugs tore through their innards, splattering blood and guts on the polished school floor. One of them managed to come within reach of Drake only to have his knife jammed into its head. The zombie stumbled back, the hilt of the weapon sticking out of his head like a horn of a unicorn before finally falling dead to the ground. With some effort, Drake yanked out the knife, shooting the last female zombie as it rose to its feet. The bullets cut her down easily, Drake remorselessly kicking it down again before delivering the deathblow. He didn't look at her face. He didn't want to.
Drake searched every classroom and office in the building. He checked the labs, the Janitor's quarters and the cafeteria. He took a trip down into the boiler room, the usually noisy room now cold with silent tubes and the sounds of dripping. He found nothing. He took a trip to the Principal's office, finding the announcement microphone on the desk. The announcement system was tied to three places: The Sheriff's Department, Town Hall and Stonefeather Elementary. It was to prevent breakdowns in communications in case something important needed to be announced. He noted the plaque that hung above the door of the Principal's office. Engraved in gold: 'Like the tempest fury, the storm rages on. Its frosty winds would extinguish even the fiercest of infernos. Yet the fires in the hearts of the people of Stonefeather shall never be extinguished and will burn everlasting in the hearts of our children in this place we call home. The Stonefeather Oath. It was what every kid born in Stonefeather was first taught. That Stonefeather survives. He gave the words one last thought before turning away. Stonefeather survives, and so would he. Then he noted something. He turned to the window left of the Principal's desk, next to the School flag. He strained his eyes, making out shadows in the storm. They were in the yard.
The creaking of dry hinges echoed alongside the howls of the wind as Drake returned outside. The schoolyard was silent and desolate like a grave. Where once children would run and play was now a deathly plain of ice and snow. He passed a pair of seesaws, moving slightly as the wind passed, like the ghosts of the children who once played atop them. He passed an unmoving merry-go-round, its bright red covered under layers of snow. The creaking grew louder the deeper Drake went until he finally reached its origin. She sat on the swing, made out of ventilated tire rubber, and suspended from a metal frame by a pair of old chains. She swung herself slowly, back and forth while the hinges of the frame gave out their sharp creak. Next to her hung Ada Wong, the swing that was once there gone. Instead, her arms, in the chains meant to hold the seat of the swing, suspended her from the frame. She was conscious, remaining silent and rather calm despite her current predicament. Drake turned to the girl on the swing, recognizing her immediately as Smythe's companion, the enigmatic Scarlett. Behind her stood two men Drake had never seen. On her right was a man dressed in a bloodied silk shirt and an Armani jacket. A scar on his throat distracted Drake from the man's features but noted the menacing stare he gave him. The other was a large man with dirty blonde hair, cropped shortly in soldierly fashion. He stood bare-bodied, dressed in only a pair of tundra camouflage pants and combat boots, his large muscles a testament to the strength the man probably had. His Slavic features gave him a serious let somewhat dull look but Drake knew very well how looks could be deceiving. "So nice of you to join us Sheriff Hartmann," a voice said. The two men stood aside giving way to the last member of the entourage. Jeremiah Smythe stood forward, hands behind his back. He gave Drake a thoughtful nod and circled the suspended Ada with faint interest. "Well then," he began, turning to Drake. "I am certain you would want no harm to befall the lovely Miss Wong," he said, cocking his head slightly in Ada's direction. "The diskette if you will?" he demanded.
Drake frowned slightly, his gaze shifting from Smythe, to his men and Ada. The odds were pretty much stacked against him. "How do I know you'll release her?" Drake demanded, silently cursing himself for being so predictable as him mind raced to think of a way to save Ada.
Smythe sniffed slightly. "Forgive me for being somewhat blunt but I don't think you really have a choice," he admitted. "I have Ada Wong, you have the diskette. I have two well-trained operatives with me whilst you're down to a half-spent firearm and possibly a blade of sorts. I'm afraid that you are in no position to bargain." He walked a few steps towards Drake, the creaking of the swing stopped as Scarlett sensed danger. Smythe halted a few inches away from Drake. He gave the young lawman a pitying smile. "Now that we know where we are," he whispered, holding out his hand. "The diskette if you would be so kind?" Drake stared daggers into Smythe's eyes that seemed nonchalant about Drake's anger. Drake looked at Smythe's black-gloved hand, reaching into his pocket for the diskette in question. After fighting every urge he had to stick a knife into his adversary, he handed the diskette to Smythe who gave it a disinterested look, uncertain of the genuineness of the item.
The sound of thunder interrupted Drake and Smythe, both of them turning to see Daniel Hartmann armed with a shotgun blasting into Hammer and Weasel. The two retainers, caught off guard by the sudden attack recoiled to recover, Hammer grabbing Scarlett, using his body to shield Smythe's ward. Weasel charged at the old man with deadly speed but Daniel was ready for him, blasting the other man in his stomach. The shell releasing multiple slugs that tore through Weasel's lower abdomen. Weasel stopped in his tracks, giving Daniel ample time to swing the butt of his weapon into Weasel's temple. The wood splintered on impact, knocking Weasel to the ground. Daniel shifted his attention to the ensnared Ada Wong. Smythe turned to stop him when he heard something drop at his feet. He spun around to see Drake running some distance away from him and then looked down to see a cylindrical object with several red stripes. "Oh my," managed Smythe with one raised eyebrow before the grenade detonated.
Drake shielded his eyes as snow blew up in wake of the explosion. He headed straight for Ada and his grandfather, helping him to undo the chains that held her in place. "Come on!" he ordered once Ada was free. The three began running, Ada managing a fleeting glance at her captors before disappearing into the storm.
"Boss!" screamed Weasel as he struggled to his feet.
"Sir!" bellowed Hammer, equally anxious as he rushed to the sight of the explosion, a wide-eyed Scarlett in his arms. The sight of a burnt severed arm froze Scarlett's blood, fighting free of Hammer's grip, she fell to her knees, her hands hovering over the still warm arm. Tears filled her eyes when she picked it up, Weasel and Hammer standing silent behind her.
She looked up to see the smoke settle; the blur of tears almost made her miss the sight of a silhouette rising from the snow and smoke. Her lips parted, dropping the arm while she rushed towards the figure. Jeremiah Smythe stood tall, ash staining the right side of his otherwise black coat. His right sleeve gone to reveal blackened and bloodied flesh where his arm once was. Weasel and Hammer stared in disbelief at their leader. Despite the loss of an arm, he still looked as strong as ever. Scarlett stopped in her tracks, looking at Smythe's right shoulder. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her lips trembling, threatening to utter the sound of a sob. Smythe brushed off the ash off his coat slightly before bending on one knee to look Scarlett in the eye. "All is well," he whispered, wiping away the tears from her eyes with his remaining hand. He assured her with a smile accepting her embrace silently, looking at his severed arm in the corner of his eye.
"…You…okay boss?" Weasel asked with uncertainty while Smythe rose to his feet. He tried not to look at the bloodied stump but failed miserably at it.
"I'm fine," Smythe assured his employee, his voice the same calm and eloquent tone as before. He looked at the swing set where Ada Wong once hung. "Though this certainly is a most interesting turn of events," he commented, bending down to look at his own arm, its fingers tightly wrapped around the diskette he had gotten from Sheriff Hartmann. Without much thought, he freed the diskette from the grip of his own severed arm and placed it into his coat pocket. "Rather bold of Sheriff Hartmann wouldn't you say? And the old man who surprised us. Was that the man you mentioned before Weasel?" Smythe asked, placing his arm around Scarlett.
Weasel felt for his temple where the old timer had slugged him good, a trail of blood flowing down the right of his face. "That's the guy boss," he confirmed. He grinded his teeth in anger. "What now boss? We hunt them down?"
Smythe nodded. "Wong will be a problem, however her companions will slow her down. We have the diskette so we need not concern ourselves with her well-being," he said, turning to Weasel. "Hartmann and the old man on the other hand are still mysteries I wish to unravel," he gave Weasel an approving nod. "Do what you want with Wong. Take Hartmann and the old man alive," he started to walk away, Scarlett following close by. "And if they prove to problematic, I'm sure I could work just as well with them if they were missing an arm or leg," he said. Weasel smiled at the sweet sound of permission, turning to the direction where he last saw Wong and her friends.
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"Wait," gasped Daniel between breaths as he struggled to keep up with the others. He wasn't as young as he used to be; his wheezing confirmed his suspicions that he was running on empty. Drake turned to his grandfather breathing just as hard from what had transpired earlier. He'd used Ada's grenade in hopes of putting an end to Smythe for good however gut instinct told him that Smythe was far from dead. They stood in an open junction, waiting for Daniel to catch his breath while recollecting themselves.
Ada grabbed Drake by the shoulders and turned him to face her. "The diskette?" she demanded.
With a frown, Drake pulled himself free of Wong. "With Smythe. I didn't want to risk getting you killed," he replied.
"Don't you realize what you've done?" growled Ada. It was the first time Drake had seen her so close to anger.
"He saved your ass, that's what he did," countered Daniel in the defense of his grandson's actions. Drake placed a hand on Daniel's shoulder, easing the old man back.
Ada frowned and looked away with a sigh. "Look," she began. "It's not that I don't appreciate what you've done, but there's more to what's happening than meets the eye. The information in that diskette is vital if we're going to prove anything to the authorities. It's what we need to put Blake away forever," she explained. "I need to go back and get it," she declared.
"Like Hell you are!" Daniel exclaimed. "Listen Fed, we're in a town full of flesh-eating zombies that are looking to take a bite out of all of us and the last thing I want to do is spend another minute in this nightmare. We need to get out, call the Marines or something for help. And personally, I don't want to see Blake locked up," he said grimly. "I want to see him dead."
Drake remained silent even as his heart skipped a beat upon hearing his grandfather expressing his murderous intent. He pulled out Ada's GLOCK, handing it to her butt first. "Whatever we're going to do, we do it together," Drake stated firmly. He looked up at Wong with frustration in his eyes. "Smythe may be out of commission but his boys are still out there, and so is the Kodiak."
"Kodiak?" Daniel queried.
"Big monster bear," Drake explained.
"Christ this just gets better every minute doesn't it," the old man muttered.
"Didn't you make a back-up of the diskette?" Drake asked.
Ada smiled. "I copied nearly all of it on my portable Communicator. It's with Smythe's boys but I encrypted it with a code that only I know. But, they could crack its using the code I originally used to break open the information in the first place."
"Which is on the diskette," Drake surmised. Ada nodded in response. "Yup. Better every minute," Drake agreed, prompting a frown from Ada.
"So what now Sheriff?" Ada asked while she checked her GLOCK.
"We get out of here. Post haste," he declared.
"Now we're talking," Daniel agreed. "But how? I checked roads and the west tunnel was blocked."
Drake turned to his grandfather. "Remember when dad was killed down in the mines?" Drake asked.
Daniel winced at the question, swallowing hard as he listened to what his grandson had to saw. After giving the scenario some thought, Daniel shook his head. "Drake," he began. "It's far too risky to try something so…well…stupid. I mean, God knows what the Hell is in those mines since these zombies started popping outta the woodwork. And on top of that, the only road to the mines is blocked."
Drake frowned at the last statement. "The quickest way between two points is a straight line," Ada commented.
"What?" Drake asked.
"The lake. Why go around it when we can just cross it? It should be frozen, correct?" she said.
Drake cocked an eyebrow and turned to his grandfather. The old man shook his head in disapproval. "Old wisdom states to be wary of thin ice Drake. And you know as well as I do that the lake isn't all that solid," he countered.
"We don't have a choice in the matter old timer," Ada interjected.
"Listen you miserable little pissant bit-
"That's enough grandpa," Drake interrupted before his grandfather could complete the curse. He turned to Ada. "He's right, the lake isn't all that solid, especially near the center and it is big lake. We don't even know if this chasm is still open. It doesn't seem worth the risk," Drake said. He looked around the desolate junction, at storehouses and cars with shattered windows, bloodstained snow and fallen lampposts. It was like a scene of a frozen hell. "But staying here isn't exactly a smart choice either."
"Then we're back to square one," Ada muttered. She looked at street before them; her eyes narrow slits as she tried to make out any threats. "Alright, how about this: you and I go and check the mines. See if there is an escape route we can use. Sergeant Rock here looks for a "safer" alternative. We meet back at your house in two hours."
"What is this? Some high school prank? 'Meet back at your house in two hours'? I just said if we were doing anything, we'd do it together," argued Drake.
"No. She's right kid. We're not exactly privy to a lot of choices here. Besides," Daniel paused for a moment. "I'm not exactly going to be of much help when it comes to blows."
Drake's eyes widened at the last remark. "You're not a burden. You won't be a burden," Drake assured his grandfather.
Daniel shook his head. He raised his shotgun by the remains of its splintered butt. "We'll see." Drake handed him the shells he had found earlier with a heavy heart. He had just reunited with his grandfather only to be separated again. "Home, two hours," Daniel confirmed before turning his back on them. Drake watched as the old man march into the blizzard without hesitation, turning away with regret at the decision made. He only prayed that the choice made was the right one.
Glancing at Ada, Drake cocked his head in the direction of the lake. "Let's go."
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"Good God!" exclaimed Blake upon seeing his employer's condition.
"Not quite Wilson," replied Smythe humorlessly as he eased himself into Blake's command chair. Smythe could already read the hundreds of questions going through Blake's mind. "An encounter with our dear friend Sheriff Hartmann," he explained. "He certainly has more guile than I would have imagined." Smythe looked at the burn marks and the tatters on the right side of his double-breasted coat, rising to his feet to remove it. Blake watched in horror while Smythe disrobed himself handing the coat to the nearby Hammer who accepted it from Smythe's good hand, the deep purple scarf wrapped around his neck. He unwound the scarf, wincing at the blood and black stains that adorned the remains of the tattered sleeve of his white shirt. His expression seemed more out of distaste rather than pain. "Fetch my other coat," he asked Hammer who nodded in acceptance of the order. He returned to his seat, glancing at the nearby mini-bar. "Some Scotch Wilson?" he asked.
Blake stood confused for a moment before finally heading for the mini-bar. "You're…not in any pain?" he asked as he poured the liquor carefully into Smythe's glass.
"Well having an explosive blow off your arm is not the most pleasant experience I've had," admitted Smythe, accepting the drink with his gloved left hand. "But the initial discomfort has subsided," Smythe remarked, as though he were talking of a new pair of shoes.
"Hartmann?"
"Still loose, but Weasel should be on his trail," he said raising his glass to Blake for a refill. As Blake returned to the mini-bar, Smythe fished out the diskette he had received from Hartmann from his deep blue vest. "Here," he handed the diskette to Blake when he returned with his drink. Blake accepted the diskette before placing the glass in Smythe's hand. "I trust you won't lose it this time?" he commented with a hint of scorn before taking a sip of the Scotch.
Blake nodded. "Rest assured sir. From now on, it'll be smooth sailing," said Blake confidently while he slipped the diskette into his pocket. "In fact, if you would permit, I think I might have a way to solve our little pest problem."
"Do tell," said Smythe, finishing his drink.
Hammer arrived with a fresh black double-breasted coat, handing it to Scarlett who appeared eager to help Smythe put it on. She stood on her toes as she waited for Smythe to slip his remaining arm into the left sleeve of the coat. He bent down slightly to make his ward's job easier, then kneeling on one knee to allow her to tuck his scarf neatly into his coat. After donning his new garment, Smythe followed Blake to another chamber in one of the lower levels of his hideaway. It was a Gene-Splicing lab, Smythe recognizing the equipment instantly. A number of tubes lined one end of the room, each tube holding a strange cocoon-like object, floating in a chemical solution of sorts. Smythe raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious at the sight.
"I call them Pack Hunters," said Blake with excitement as he fiddled with a control panel nearby. A hissing sound turned Smythe and Hammer's attention from Blake to the tubes. The solution drained from them at an alarming rate, the glass tubes slowly rising to expose the cocoons to air. Blake stood next to Smythe with a gleeful expression on his face. The cocoons began to stir when a long blade stabbed through the flesh-like shell. The first of the creatures pulled itself free from its cocoon, a headless one-eyed, black-skinned monstrosity standing on talon-covered bird-like legs. Where there should have been arms were silvery curved blades that somewhat resembled the claws of a Praying Mantis. Seven others, quickly joined the first of the creatures all letting out a strange sound, like the murmurs of the dead. They swayed about swiping slightly at one another as Blake rubbed his hands in satisfaction. "They're pre-programmed thanks to my special nano-tech neural implants. They'll do whatever I'll tell them too."
"I see," Smythe said, mildly impressed. "I'm surprised you found the time to pursue…other interests Wilson."
"There wasn't much to do once I finished the weapon. Thought I'd brush off the old gene-splicing skills," he replied.
Smythe smiled. Perhaps it was time to close the book on Wong and Sheriff Hartmann. Though he was truly curious to examine the Sheriff's unique genetic gift, he wasn't making it easy. Without realizing it, Smythe found himself stroking his empty right sleeve. 'Oh well' he thought. 'It will grow back eventually'.
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"I didn't mean to snap at you back there," Ada said, breaking the silence as she followed Drake in the direction of the lake. Drake didn't respond. He didn't even turn back to acknowledge her. Not many men could stay angry with her, but apparently Hartmann was more than comfortable with it to Ada's dismay. "It's just that…I've always focused on the assignment. Sometimes a little too much," she explained. "And it's been awhile since I had to work with others."
"Why'd you point your gun at me in Blake's mansion?" Drake asked without turning to face her.
Ada wasn't surprised at the question but rather at his tone. Dark anger wrapped under shreds of self-control. "I was afraid that you'd been infected by the virus," she answered. The sheriff came to a sudden stop, placing his gun hand on his hip and the other over his face. The lake was already in view; just another ten minutes' walk down the street where suburban houses lined each side. Some of them had their windows shattered and their doors broken down. Others were covered in thick and heavy snow forcing rooftops to collapse. A barrier of cars and other vehicles twisted by the Razor and the zombies sealed the street behind them. It took them sometime before they could climb over it as zombies attacked them suddenly. It almost seemed like the perfect death trap.
Drake spun around to look her in the eye. "You've dealt with this before then," Drake surmised.
Ada nodded slightly. "Yes," she answered softly. To her surprise, Drake's expression softened.
"Look, I've more or less come to some conclusions of my own over what's going on but I think I'd rather hear the truth from someone who knows," he said frankly. "So why don't you do me a favor and give me the low down on what's really going on."
Just as Ada opened her mouth to speak a harsh laughter interrupted her, the two quickly raising their arms in the direction of the sound. Weasel sat on the front porch of one of the houses, a sinister smile on his face. "Ain't this cute?" Weasel said. "Boy sheriff there doesn't have a clue about what's going on," he scoffed. He rose to his feet, dusting flakes of snow off his left shoulder. He glanced at Drake with a sneer. "Pretty nasty thing. What you did to the boss. No biggie though. He's alright, eager to return the favor in fact," he said. "Tell ya what, you come all quiet and such and I'll be happy to fill you in on what's going down."
Drake frowned. "Smythe's already got what he wants. What does he want with me?" he demanded.
"Well, you did try to blow him up. Guess maybe he wants to return the favor," replied Weasel as he slowly unbuttoned his bloodied silk shirt. "'Course the boss did say you didn't have to be in one piece," he said slyly as he revealed his hideous mutation. The monstrous teeth-rowed mouth on his abdomen opened itself. "And I'm getting hungry."
A tentacle swept out and disarmed Drake in an instant, his weapon suddenly in Weasel's hands. "Get down!" screamed Ada as Weasel began firing Drake's Beretta. Drake felt a bullet graze his arm, the searing heat of hot lead shocking him while he dived for cover. Ada returned fire with her own weapon, while Drake watched, defenseless. Weasel laughed a maniacal laughter as Ada's bullets punched through him, striding forward with Drake's gun in hand. The exchange of bullets was short lived when Drake's gun went dry.
"Piece of junk," muttered Weasel, dropping the weapon to the ground. Drake seized the moment, charging towards Weasel, knife in hand. Sensing the attack, Ada laid down effective cover fire, her shots nailing Weasel in both shoulders and grazing his jugular. Weasel swung his tendrils towards Ada, not noticing Sheriff Hartmann mere inches away. Drake slashed at one of Weasel's outreached tentacles, the snake-like limb recoiling quickly while Weasel spun around to strike Drake. A tendril pulled Drake off his feet, the fall knocking the wind out of Hartmann. He struggled, swinging at the tendril as Weasel dragged him closer to his monstrous mutated stomach. Ada was quick to react, immediately firing a well-aimed shot at the tendril, forcing Weasel to release his grip. Weasel clenched his jaw tightly while he tried to regain control of the situation. He backed off, waiting for an opening. Drake scrambled for his weapon, quickly reloading the gun with a fresh clip while Ada dealt with Weasel. The firing suddenly stopped, prompting Drake to spin around to see that the gun was out of Ada's hands.
"Down!" she screamed as Weasel took hold of the weapon. Hot lead flew through the air, grazing Drake's left cheek. Having dealt with only zombies and their close-ranged attacks, Drake was slow to react to a gunfight though he had been trained to excel in such situations years ago. The searing pain on his face snapped him back to reality, Drake immediately keeping low and returned fire. The shots caught Weasel off guard, punching holes through his already bloodied chest but the mutated assassin held his ground, even managing a sinister smile while blood trickled down his chin. Drake dodged an incoming tendril and quickly rolled under gunfire. He raised his head in time to see Weasel coming at him, tossing Ada's weapon to the ground. His tendrils whipped all around him whilst his monstrous mouth let out a hideous moan. The tendrils struck Drake hard, forcing him to shield himself with his arms. Weasel took the opportunity to reach for Drake's unprotected firearm only to have a slash mark appear on his chest. Drake's knife sliced through Weasel's flesh like a knife through butter when he realized that all Weasel was doing was going for his weapon. The tendrils reacted violently, sweeping across the ground in search of something to ensnare while Weasel stumbled back from the blow.
"Son of a bitch," muttered Weasel, holding the wound. He was breathing hard now, staring hard at Hartmann who stood equally exhausted, his gun and knife at the ready. He was better than Weasel expected, probably trained with SWAT or a Special Forces outfit. Still, he was just human. Weasel should have ended this fight within its first minute. "You're a tough little bastard, I'll give you that much," admitted Weasel as he straightened himself. "But you're luck's run out kid." Weasel suddenly bowled over to Drake's surprise, his facial expression tightened as though something was trying to force its way out of his body. Flesh and blood erupted from Weasel's back, more tentacles popping out from out of the man's body. The sight froze Drake's blood. Just what the Hell was he dealing with? "Let's rumba," sneered Weasel, rising to his feet. The bloodied tendrils came at Drake from all sides, whipping Drake into a world of hurt but the sheriff kept a tight grip on his weapon, using his knife to keep the serpentine limbs away from his firearm. Two of the tentacles seized his arms while another two pulled him of his feet, forcing him to the ground. Drake struggled wildly like an animal caught in a net while Weasel dragged him towards his gaping mouth. Weasel's laughter seemed to signify the end when a gunshot punched a hole through Weasel's throat. The shot caused Weasel to release his grip of Drake while he turned to see Ada lowering her weapon, gun smoke shadowing her face slightly but not enough to conceal her satisfied smile. A takedown from behind forced Weasel to the ground, Drake using Ada's distraction to its fullest. Weasel struggled hard as his serpent-like tentacles coiled themselves around Drake's arms and neck in an attempt to pull him off but the lawman would not budge even as the tendril tightened around his throat. He pulled at Weasel's hair and jammed his weapon against his temple.
"Give up," managed Drake while the tendril tightened itself around Drake's neck, choking him.
"Like Hell," sputtered Weasel as blood flowed out his mouth.
Tears began to form in Drake's eyes as he felt the air to his lungs slowly being cut off. It was either he or Weasel. No decision really. Blood splattered onto his face as Weasel's head exploded, bone and brain staining the snow and the sheriff like a melon bursting. Ada's eyes widened at the sight, the sheer brutality of the coup de grace sending a shiver down her spine. The tendrils loosened themselves around Drake's neck and finally fell limp. Ada strode to Drake's side after she felt sure that it was over, helping the sheriff up. Drake spat out some blood that he was certain was not his own. "Never doing that again," he said as he wiped the blood off his face.
"Didn't think you would," agreed Ada as she looked at Weasel's now dead body. "You okay?"
"Just barely," muttered Drake while he massaged his neck. "I didn't want to kill him."
"He didn't leave you with much of a choice Sheriff," Ada said. "Come on. We better move on."
Drake nodded silently, holstering his weapon as he led the way. When Drake was a comfortable distance away from her, Ada reached for Weasel's body and searched it. She pulled out her Communicator from Weasel's jacket, the screen covered in blood but otherwise, undamaged. She pocketed the device and quickly rejoined Hartmann who was already at the edge of the lake. The sight stunned Ada. "That's the lake?" she asked in disbelief. The lake was huge, almost like a frozen lagoon covered in ice and snow. The simple crossing she had in mind had suddenly been dashed.
"Welcome to Stonefeather," muttered Drake.