UPDATE 9/20/2014: THE FIRST FOUR CHAPTERS ARE NOW COMBINED AND UPDATED. THIS IS WHY THE CHAPTER COUNT HAS CHANGED!
IMPORTANT! Just so you are all aware, I have begun the slow process of updating previous chapters, namely the first three. Updates include, but are not limited to: extended interactions between Sam and Phantom; significant use of a photo of the Fenton twins on Maddie's supercomputer; a more eloquent description of the Compound and are what now being called "factions"; more insight on the war's effect on the general population, and so on. Also, the first few chapters are now combined to eliminate redundancy.
Just needed to clear up a lot of clutter. Thanks for your time and meet me at the end for a typical author's note.
Epíphantos
Chapter Five:
The World without End
Sam felt the familiar twinges of excitement in the tensioning of her nerves as she readied herself. Dressed in her formfitting ecto-protective leather jumpsuit and standing amongst her Warrior kin, she did her best to quell her anxiety. It was bubbling in the pits of her stomach, thus causing her to cough and sputter. The conversation between her and the woefully blind Paulina Sanchez flashed to the forefront of her mind and it was all she could do to shake it away, but not before the nervousness settled in a shroud over her once more.
"Alright, kiddies!" a man, Dale Barbara, suddenly shouted causing Sam to jump. He entered the room with an armful of gleaming weaponry, followed closely by his companions, Willie Shoemaker and Dick Belair, whom wielded boxes containing various weapons and other FENTONWORKS contraptions.
The first man, Barbara, ruffled the hair at the top of Sam's head and offered her one of his sincerest smiles. He was a man of his late thirties, broad in the shoulders, and a bit of a womanizer, but he was also one of the Warrior's most efficient unit commanders as well as an unabashed hater of their Warrior leader, Mister-Fucking-Masters. Sam was a firm believer that it was the latter that most of his charm originated from. Not to mention Barbara had also been mentored by the renowned Teslaff. Despite her mood, she found herself smiling as she slapped his hand away.
Barbara was chuckling as he shuffled to the center of the room and dropped his box to the floor. The weapons inside rattled audibly. Shoemaker and Belair quickly followed suite, each dropping their respective boxes next to one and other.
The room fell into an eerie silence as the seriousness of the situation grappled everyone into attention. Beside her, Sam saw Dash Baxter shift nervously—a feat that seemed odd for a man his size. To his left was Kwan Sharigon, but to Sam's right was Valerie Grey. With the realization of the impending power failure, brought on by lack of spectral energy powerful enough to fuel the Compound's neutralizing core, Damon Grey had issued a raid of the Wastelands. It would be the first time any of the newer recruits would venture beyond Amity's borders.
The tension in the room was nearly palpable as apprehension settled heavily on those within Sam's vicinity. The older guys—Barbara, Shoemaker, and Belair—seemed to revel in it, grinning at the kids' distress. Willie Shoemaker, a burly man with a gnarled beard was the first to break the silence. "I'm thinkin' the fresh meat looks a li'le scared, eh, Dick?" the man said in a gravelly voice that was just as rough as the rest of him.
Dick Belair laughed boisterously and elbowed Shoemaker in the gut. "I think you're right." Where Shoemaker was big, Belair was small. He was the oldest of the three and miniscule in comparison to the other men, but he was exceptionally lethal for his sixty-seven years. He coughed out a laugh before turning to Barbara, saying, "You think most of 'em will make it out today?" Sam tried not to laugh as Dash visibly straightened, his eyes widened in obvious alarm.
Barbara smiled but said nothing more to address them. He instead turned his attention towards the four recruits standing in a semicircle around him. "Ignore them. You all will make it out alive." He paused, long enough to meet the eyes of each of them, lingering on Sam's. "But only if you listen to me, follow your orders, and remember your training." With that said, he began dispensing weapons and personal safety equipment from the boxes. "Playtime's over, kiddies."
Sam's heart jumped excitedly in her chest despite her newly-recognized reservations for ghost hunting. She had always wanted to venture beyond Amity's boarders, into the surrounding forests and abandoned roadways that were now being identified as the aforementioned Wastelands. However, along with her excitement, she also reserved enough room for her caution. The Wastelands were none to be trifled with as it was there that the darkest, most powerful spirits lurked.
Sam once again found herself thinking about Phantom.
Phantom, a ghost that had spared her life. A ghost that Paulina Sanchez had recognized immediately through her description of him.
"He saved my life," she'd said, with her fingers working meticulously at a weave tinged with green. "It sounds crazy, I know, but he did and I remember." Then, in a voice that drifted much lower so that Sam had to strain herself to hear it, Paulina had said, "I remember because he was the last thing I ever saw."
The memory of her conversation with the blind girl encompassed every moment of her dreams for the two days thereafter, preluding Sam into her forbidden thoughts upon waking. Confident as she was, she hated questioning herself, her morals, as she'd always taken pride in her understanding of the metaphorical line that differentiated right and wrong.
But now . . . now she was swimming in uncertainly, fearing how precarious her balance had become as her line continued to wane. What was Phantom? There was obviously a difference between him and other ghosts, but what was it?
Was there even a difference? Sam bit her lip at the implications. Ghosts were evil—but were all of them?
She nearly fell to the ground when Dash Baxter suddenly elbowed her in the shoulder. His voice was loud with the exclamation of: "Ready to whoop some ass, Manson?"
Stammering, she tried to quell the madness of her nerves. Drawing herself out of her traitorous wonderings, she faced Dash with the most confident of her smiles. "Sure am!" She met his knuckles with her own, and Kwan's as well, momentarily enamored by the group's lively spirit. It instantly vanished, however, when she met the steely gaze of Valerie Grey. The two girls shared a fiery look as the familiar competitive air drifted between them.
"Make sure you stay out of my way, Manson." Valerie's voice was a growl.
Sam had just opened her mouth to retort when Vlad Masters suddenly strode regally into the room. At least he'd attempted to stride in regally. Sam believed his walk made him appear as if he had a huge stick shoved constantly up his ass—a thought she enjoyed immensely.
Following closely behind Masters was none other than Damon Grey, the current leader of the Resistance. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Masters, Grey surveyed the room with calculating eyes. Sam watched as he met his daughter's gaze and the slightest of smiles graced the corners of his mouth whilst Valerie responded with a smug one of her own. Grey then made eye contact with Sam and nodded once, acknowledging her.
Damon Grey was a large, heavily-built man with skin as dark as his daughter's. Having served Amity for nearly eleven years as Warrior leader, he now ran the Resistance with military stringency and precision. Reminiscent of his years in the service was the dark eye patch concealing the remains of his left eye. It was nestled in a throng of white scars that overlapped amongst the planes of his face.
Despite the bad blood that currently ran river-like between her and Valerie, Sam felt nothing but upmost respect towards the man. Despite the toughness of his exterior, Damon Grey had a heart of molten gold and an iron fist of determination.
The room was rigid with an attentive silence. The new recruits stood before Grey with bated breath, saucer-like eyes wide with nervousness as he assessed each and every one of them. Sam held herself high, just as Teslaf and taught her to do, with her chin jutted and eyes that never broke their sturdy gaze.
After a few moments of silence that seemed to drag on for hours, Grey finally spoke. "I'm proud to say that each and every one of you deserves to stand where you are right now," he began, pausing for emphasis. "I have watched you grow for the past few years from nitwit rookies"—he waited momentarily for the snickers to abate—"to recognized and efficient Warriors. A feat that is not easy by any means, and truly commendable.
"You have all participated in raids already, but this will be your first time in the Wastelands." Grey's brows fell low over his eyes as his face became grim. "This is no laughing matter. I cannot promise you will all come home tonight, although it is my greatest hopes that you will. You must stay alert and stay together at all times. The people of our world depend on you, and if you must remember anything, remember this: when you fail—we all fail."
Sam felt her heart palpitating roughly in her chest at Grey's words, her confidence waning with each minute that ticked further into history. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. For once in her life, Sam couldn't find it in herself to feel confident.
"What makes you so sure that what you know about ghosts is all there is to know?"—Phantom's words.
Sam blanched, even as Damon Grey's eyes appraised her questioningly. "Something wrong, Sam?"
Sam shook her head, glad that her voice didn't quaver when she responded, "No, sir."
Damon held her gaze a moment longer before he nodded once. He then turned to address the man beside him. "Any words you'd like to say to your recruits, Vlad?"
Masters nodded. Stepping forward with his hands behind his back, he said, "While I'd love to entertain you all with an endearing speech in an attempt to ignite your righteous souls, I will instead remain brief." Masters paused long enough to share a smile with Valerie and offer Sam the most charming of sneers. When he spoke again, his voice was as cold as ice. "The world out there is scary, children, and it is in the best of your interests to follow the rules your superiors have created for you."
Or else, Sam added in her head as she glared at Masters, not allowing herself to become intimidated by the thin veil of his threat. She and the other Warriors assembled together, shoulders pressed against shoulders, breaths of air mixing together as one. She shifted the pack she carried higher onto her shoulder and slipped the FENTONWORKS goggles over her head so they hung loosely at her throat.
Pushing Phantom and his words to the back of her mind, Sam forced herself to take a deep, calming breath.
She had a job to do.
XXX
The hazy green sun was high in the sky, listless ectoplasmic clouds churning lazily in the slight wind. Silence enveloped the area, even as booted feet crept across the field towards the barbed fence. There was a slight whine as ectoguns blared to life, the sound of fingers disengaging safety locks and brushing triggers. Heart beats fluttered, breaths quickening as adrenaline surged. Together they stepped through the dilapidated fence; together they took their first tentative steps outside Amity.
Dale Barbara was leading the pack. He walked with silent steps, his gun lowered and ready to fire. Willie Shoemaker and Dick Belair flanked the group with cautious eyes.
To her left was Dash Baxter; to her right was Valerie Grey. Kwan Sharigon was behind her.
Sam could hardly contain her enthusiasm as she giddily stepped forward past the barrier of Amity Park. Her boot crunched on the hard earth as the Wastelands seemingly welcomed her arrival. The air was chilly but the sun made her feel warm, even as the springtime wind rustled through her clothes and hair. Unable to prevent its formation, a smile instantly dominated her face.
For the first time in years Sam was able to see the slight silhouettes of the mountains that bordered Amity Park. The ectoplasmic contamination of the environment had become so thick that it obscured visibility from the city, shortening perceptibility to less than a mere mile. Here though, she could see the mountains as well as the line of trees that encircled the edges of the field. Though the visage remained foggy, it slowly cleared the closer she approached.
Curious, Sam slipped her goggles over her eyes. When her view remained blank, she pulled them away wanting to conserve whatever charge was left within the batteries. She checked the ectosensor at her wrist, but the needle simply danced the slightest bit in reaction to the environment. She shifted the pack at her shoulder uncertainly. No ghosts.
At least, not yet.
Ahead of her Barbara turned slightly to look over his shoulder. He nodded once, and then jutted his chin towards an opening in the line of trees where the deserted roads began. Unanimously the group followed him, understanding his directive with the utmost efficiency. Years of training and experience combined allowed the group to travel as a collective unit. Upon reaching the roadway, they began winding through the maze of abandoned vehicles.
The roads were a disarray of rubble and a chaotic assortment of toppled and crushed heaps of metal. Sam felt sadness pulling at her heart as she passed the forgotten cars. Coated in shrubbery, it felt wrong to pass them now after their fifteen years of isolation. The metal had long since oxidized from shiny steel into a mesh of rust and Swiss cheese, hindering what remained of the faded coats of paint. Many were empty with doors still yawning wide after their owners had abandoned them, but in many more remained the unfortunate souls whom had not been able to escape.
The farther away from the city she walked, the more tomblike the cars became. Corpses forever encased within their steeled housings, eyeless sockets wide and mouths forever screaming. Sam couldn't contain the shiver that edged its away up her spine as she passed a shattered window with the corpse of a child still slumped within in her car seat. Sam could tell she was female by the ratty pink clothing that hung loose from her mummified skin and the tangled wisps of dirty blonde hair.
Dash nearly retched at the sight, elbowing Sam until their eyes locked and an odd sense of camaraderie drifted between them. Sam saw a mirror image of the sadness she felt reflecting in the irises of his eyes, and she smiled wryly despite it all. Even Valerie empathized when she met Sam's gaze, equally devastated and shaking her head as if to ward away the evils of the world they lived in. Behind them all tears fell to the ground from Kwan's eyes as he wept for the little girl and what must have been her mother, who lay draped across the dash in various pieces while half of her remained strapped to the seat.
The Warrior veterans remained unfazed as they trudged resolutely through the throng of human debris, firmly pushing the newer recruits along the path after Barbara. Their pace was brisk yet cautious, long steps taken on balanced toes so hardly any noises were made. When Kwan remained immobile, eyes focused in morbid fascination on the body of the girl, Shoemaker shoved him roughly in the middle of the back with the butt of his blaster. Kwan fell forward and nearly tripped but Belair grabbed and steadied him, then pointed for him to follow the group. Kwan sheepishly obliged.
The group of rebels had walked nearly a mile now, the city behind them barely visible through the ectoplasmic film saturating the atmosphere. The roadway and the surrounding forest were completely silent aside from the occasional animal calls. The sounds reverberated through the air, seemingly resounding off the trunks of trees. Sam saw Dash jump every time and soon his brow began to perspire from his uneasiness.
Despite the situation, Sam became fascinated as the shape of the mountains sharpened, emerging through the greenish haze and towering above her in the form of skyward fingers. Trees surrounded her, aligning the road. Some were toppled over and crisscrossing over her path so she had to clamber awkwardly over them, all the while being careful not to disturb the precious and fragile cargo she carried within her pack. It was vitally important, she knew, that the Fenton's patrol probe remained undamaged. Fingers tightening over her shoulder strap, she pressed on.
After a few more minutes of walking, Barbara suddenly slowed and then stopped, halting his entourage. His eyes made contact with Sam's before he pointed to her pack, nodding once, then pointed towards the sky.
Understanding settled in immediately. Sam knelt and opened her pack and as she did Valerie crouched beside her, hands held outwards to help. Together the two girls pulled apart Sam's pack and began the process of setting up the FENTONWORKS ENVIRONRMENTAL ANALYSIS probe for release. The thing instantly whirred to life, lights blinking in initiation. It vibrated as it calibrated and when it completed its cycle it beeped softly, completely activated.
Sam smiled, pleased at the simplicity. She then began to lift it into the air for release, but as she did a sudden movement at her wrist caught her eye. The needle within the face of her ectosensor went from its methodic dance to a sudden halt—then snapped high into the orange zone.
There was a split second in time in which Sam remained shock still, uncomprehending the sudden change. It was when the shrill beeping began to ring loudly in her ears from seven different sources and Barbara's sudden shouts of "AMBUSH! AMBUSH! AMBUSH!" that snapped Sam out of her momentary stupor. The Fenton probe lurched from her hands as she reeled around in search of the offending specter, her newly powered ectogun clasped expertly between her hands.
Behind her the probe began its clumsy accent into the sky. It didn't last long, however, because a powerful ectopasmic blast instantly collided with it. It detonated in an explosion of white light and a shower of sparks, the metal pieces of its body pelting Sam in the back.
"HOLD YOUR GROUND!" Barbara screeched.
But what good would that do? There were hundreds of them. The glowing monsters with their translucent bodies rippling, even in the lack of wind. Within their ethereal bodies were the shimmering white orbs of their cores. Mouths hung open as the spooks screamed, commencing their ambush with deathly precision. The numbers were overwhelming; the previous silence shattered by hundreds of screaming and snarling ghouls.
Not daring to reach for her thermos, Sam instead began blasting them as panic settled heavily in her belly, drawing upwards into full blown terror. In her peripheral she saw her Warrior kin begin to do the same as the battle commenced from ambush to war.
Sam screamed as she was thrown backwards by a powerful blast, her head spinning and ringing from a blow to her head.
"SAM!" Valerie screamed. She was blasting furiously as the ghosts bombarded her. "SAM! NO!"
Sam saw Barbara get struck directly in his side, his arm now hanging useless as he continued to blast with his other hand; Shoemaker and Belair were back to back, voices loud as they screamed and fired; Dash's voice was pitched high in fright as he was thrown to his back; Kwan's eyes were full of terrified tears as he lifted Dash to his feet.
Valerie broke her way through the chaos, fingers extending and reaching for Sam's. Her horrified eyes were wide, nostrils flared, raven hair singed and flying. She leaped and a made a reach for Sam, just as Sam groggily sat up and tried to meet her halfway with a hand of her own—
Their hands missed when a gaggle of spooks seized Sam under her arms and drug her skywards, high into the hazy green fog of the sky and over the tops of trees.
Sam screamed as her senses came back to her in a rush of cold air at her face. She flailed uselessly before she managed to fire a shot at the ghosts carrying her.
There was an intense bout of hissing and then suddenly—
Suddenly, she was falling.
Wind ripped through her lungs and her throat became raw with her throaty screams. Fortunately when the ghosts dropped her she had been close enough to the treetops to grapple hold of one of the many branches. Her gun fell from her hands and to the forest floor as the branch slithered through her grasp. She could feel the thousands of splinters as they imbedded themselves in her hands and the friction burned immensely.
When the branch snapped under her weight, she thought not about the pain, but instantly reached blindly for the next.
And the next.
Branches continuously broke from her weight as well as her collision with those she did not grab. Sam could think of nothing else but survival, thankful for the generous amount of adrenaline currently surging through her system.
When she finally hit the ground the sound of bone cracking resounded loudly through her ears, temporarily incapacitating her as the wind was rushed from her lungs during impact. Her hands were numb and slick with her blood; her left wrist was throbbing with pain and a bulge protruded from the joint of her elbow. She lay there, gasping for air but miraculously alive.
She tried to sit up but her face instantly became wet with blood. She wiped it away, only for it to fall thickly over her brow yet again. A few feet to her right was her ectogun and she reached for it. Once the weapon was firmly grasped in her uninjured hand, she tried to stand. Wooziness overcame her instantly and she fell to her bottom. She waited for the world to become still before she tried again. This time she managed to remain standing, but had to brace herself against a tree in an attempt to combat the tilting of her vision.
Bile rose into her throat and she immediately emptied the contents of her stomach at her feet. Tears were forming in her eyes, falling down her cheeks and mingling with her blood. Somewhere inside her chest several broken ribs ached, making breathing extremely painful.
I'm going to die, she thought.
In the distance she heard screams.
There was no way in hell she would go down without a fight.
Steeling herself, Sam took her first steps since the fall, tentatively at first, but once the wobbling subsided she began to pick up her speed. Her injured arm stayed firmly to her chest whilst her other held her ectogun, aimed and ready to fire. Uncaring about how loud she was being she followed the sounds of the screams. At least she tried to. Disorientation quickly shrouded over her, enveloping her in a mass of hysteria. She became frantic, furiously wiping away blood from her face with the sleeve of her suit.
Then, as if to remind her things could always get worse, a familiar chill crept through her veins.
Something suddenly snapped behind her.
Sam whirled around.
Standing before her had to be the strangest ghost she had ever seen. With furrowed brows it was hard to tell if what she was seeing was even real, or a product of her dying mind producing a strange visage to scare her into her death. She stood squinting at it, her ectogun charged with her finger slightly depressing the trigger.
The specter was massive, wide as it was tall with a mass of white fur. It had a wide snout barely containing its massive fangs and underbite. Parts of its limbs seemed to be encased in ice, skeletal members beneath flexing with movement and blue sinews undulating. The ghostly chill was much more intense than she had ever experienced, frigid in its closeness to her, and its core remained enclosed within its form.
She had just been about to pull the trigger when it began to speak.
"Please!" it said in a deep voice. Usually when ghosts spoke their words were nearly indecipherable. But this one had a voice she understood with perfect clarity.
"Please," it said again. "Please don't shoot, human girl, I beg you. I do not mean you any harm. I only mean to find Daniel." Its eyes were pleading, large paws—one of fur, the other of ice—splayed wide to signify its defenselessness.
She stood, glaring unbelievingly at the ghost before her (and who the hell was Daniel?) She was going to shoot it. She was. Now that her blaster had been repowered it would easily obliterate the ghoul with a snap of her finger. She traced the trigger of her gun, intent upon depressing it, when—
"What makes you so sure that what you know about ghosts is all there is to know?"
The familiar challenge reverberated through her skull and she frowned at the thoughts swarmed her from the depths of her mind. She loosened her resolve slightly, her head pounding and her vision filling with blood once more.
"Why are you so different from other ghosts?"—these words, she remembered, had been hers.
At this, Phantom had smiled. The words that came next had been the ones to haunt her.
A memory of her conversation with the blind girl suddenly flashed to her awareness, about how Phantom had saved her life. They had spent hours together that night, she and Sam, and Sam had listened to the blind girl's crazy theories of a world where ghosts were not all evil. Sam had watched her weave the eerie green tapestry, lips smiling as the blind girl recounted her tale.
The memory stifled her. Her heart pounded as the blood came thicker. She wiped it away furiously and locked eyes with the ghost before her. Wide eyes met hers in a similar expression of fear, no doubt a mirror image of her own, effectively shattering what was left of her resolution.
Her ectogun whirred loudly as she lowered it and it powered down. It then fell to her feet with an audible fwump. The silence that followed was nearly palpable with disbelief, but Sam didn't notice. Her vision became a clotted mess of thick blood and white stars, a red film that left her blind. She stood there, wondering when the ghost would finally kill her.
But the blow never came.
Instead she collapsed, gratefully welcoming the blanket of darkness that enveloped her, sweet and painless.
XXX
.
.
.
Her consciousness swirls around her.
Fading in . . .
Fading out.
She is cold, though, encased in the freezing arms of death and she shivers violently.
Her body is swathed in something soft.
Darkness again.
.
.
.
XXX
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.
.
Words now, flitting in and out.
" . . . Something has happened. . ."—"What do you mean she . . ."—". . . we are in need of you at . . ."—". . . what happened out th . . ."
Unintelligible murmurs.
Her eyes open and she is greeted by blurry images of color and something odd and white that lines her vision.
She blinks, and with the slightest moments of clarity she sees green eyes that are somehow familiar but she can't remember why. They come closer now, glowing and flecked with the slightest hints of blue.
Then the pain settles heavily and she allows herself to sleep once more.
.
.
.
XXX
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.
.
A strange feeling.
Cold.
So much cold—
Numbing the pain, but now she's hurting from the frigidity. It sears her like fire.
She feels as if she's in a world that does not end.
So she closes her eyes.
.
.
.
XXX
Samantha Manson crawls happily along the edge of the glowing green dome, not caring that her dress is getting icky with stains.
The dome is pretty, she thinks, with her hand smudging the earth and picking up handfuls of mud. She falls back on her diaper bottom, chubby legs splayed out beneath her as she traces a muddy had through the air where the glow is at its brightest. She giggles as the dome zings her, sending funny tingles up her arm. It tickles, it tickles, it tickles! Her giggles turn to laughs.
Attracted to the strange noise a thingy comes bounding along and Samantha sees the most peculiar sight she ever saw. There, standing before her on the other side of the dome is a funny looking green puppy. It is see-through and is sniffing the air where Samantha's hand has just been. Its silly teeny-tiny tail wags and Samantha laughs again, amused by how funny looking it is.
The puppy pauses, cocking its head to the side as it listens to her laugh. Then it jumps, placing its paws against the shield. Its tongue flops out of its mouth as it smiles and yips at her, with the teeny-tiny tail still wig-waggling around.
Why doesn't it fall through? Samantha thinks to herself. Unlike the puppy, when Samantha reaches her little fist out to touch the glowing green wall it passes through like magic! She did it now, sticking her hand all the way out and giggling once more at the tingles it sends up her arm. The puppy stops with its tongue-thing and begins to sniff her hand curiously. That tickles more than anything and Samantha laughs even more loudly than before.
The puppy barks again and then licks her hand. Its tongue is silky and slimy and Samantha is thinking it is the most amazing thing she has ever felt! She claps her hands and crawls out towards the puppy. The puppy makes more happy sounds, bouncing around and wiggling its whole bottom. The two play together then, chasing each other and having fun.
When Samantha reaches for the puppy it falls over on its back and she pats its chubby belly.
Today was the best day ever!
"Sammykins!" Mommy suddenly yells. "Sammykins, where are you?"
Samantha smiles and picks up the strange green puppy in her arms. Mommy will love him too! she thinks cheerfully. Maybe we can keep him!
She is so excited to show Mommy, but when Mommy sees her with the puppy she screams.
"Samantha! Samantha, no! Oh my god! Jeremey! Somebody, somebody help!"
Samantha doesn't understand why she is screaming, but then other people are screaming too! Suddenly she is ripped away from the puppy and it hurts. Mommy grabs her and cries, pulling Samantha tightly to her chest and that hurts too. Why is everybody so sad and scared? Over Mommy's shoulder she sees the puppy get chased away by men with glowing guns, its teeny-tiny tail is tucked between its legs as it runs away yelping.
Samantha truly doesn't understand and tears begin welling in her eyes.
Why did grown-ups gotta be so mean?
XXX
The memory swirled, dreamlike, then faded away into the deepest recesses of her mind.
As she woke, her thoughts seemed to regain their clarity. The pain had lessoned and her breaths came easy. She lay there, relishing the easy feeling of breathing and a consciousness that seemed to maintain itself. The world was dark and memories eluded her. Where was she now? What had happened to her kin?
Momentarily frightened by the prospect of what lay ahead and knowing the best way to face it was head on, Sam took a deep, calming breath—
And then opened her eyes.
A/N: Woohoo, finally getting the ball rolling now. Thank you to everyone for your continued support. This is my favorite chapter by far. I love writing suspense. How'd I do? I didn't get as much feedback with the last chapter, which is fine, but I just hope I'm not boring you guys. Your reviews literally make my day, no joke. So keep 'em coming!
So what do you guys think is going to happen next? Cookies if you guess right! Also, question: What the hell is Kwan's surname? I couldn't find it anywhere so I made it up at the last minute. As I was writing, I referred to him as "NONAME," so if for some reason that title is floating around somewhere let me know so I can fix it. I think I got them all, anyway.
Thanks again for everything, guys! I'm going camping all next week so the next chapter might be a little bit. We'll see.
-Roar