(A/N) Hello, all! Long time no see!
I'm sorry that you all had to wait this long for the next chapter. I had to wait three weeks after finally completing this chapter to find a new beta reader to edit this, so I apologize for any inconvenience or added suspense this may have caused you, and I thank you for your immense patience.
I'd also like to thank you all for your positive, and constructive, reviews, even though I felt guilty everytime I got a review compelling me to continue, due to my lack of free time that would not allow me to write often. Which is why I must lay this down on you all; chapter 4 may be the final chapter in this series.
-insert groaning audience-
I'm not ending it just because I don't want you to be held in suspense for too long anymore, but because each idea I think of, has some sort of plot hole. Plus, I don't think that this story arc was meant to be carried on for long, anyway.
But, don't fret! Keep on the lookout for more Alexara works coming soon, given I have the time and the plot kinks worked out, of course!
Enjoy! x
The air is heavy with the smell of smoke.
This is the first thing that Alex's brain takes note of as he slowly regains consciousness; not how much his head is spinning like a top, not how much his chin is throbbing, not where he was, not how wet his face feels. The smell of smoke.
That should've flared up a Metal Gear Solid exclamation point in his head, and make him want to get the hell out of there, but his brain was still sluggishly attempting to obtain a firm grip on his surroundings, and it wasn't in full control of his limbs and extremities yet. The only thing that his brain could allow itself to pay attention to was the smoke, pure and simple. It stood out to him the most.
It was as though someone had clicked the refresh button on Internet Explorer with a crappy dial-up internet connection - the process was so slow, it was almost frustrating. Still, slowly, but surely, his senses managed to resurface one by one, little by little, sounds and sights gradually blooming into his brain like lilies after heavy rain.
Sensations were coming back to him as well, like the heat and humidity of the air washing over his body, the slight prickly feeling of the grass beneath him, the slow trickle of something wet - sweat, or maybe blood - running down his neck, and the slow, rhythmic pang of his heart against his chest.
Then, all of a sudden, Lara. Flashing into his mind as sudden as lightning.
He didn't quite remember everything that had happened before he was knocked out, but whatever was going on, he hoped she was okay. Without her, he'd never escape this island alive. He hazily thought about her bravery, her resilience, and how she had a pretty gnarly wound in the side to prove that. Alex never would've been able to survive something like that, or even let himself do so. Hell, he can't even pull himself through this, something absolutely pathetic and ridiculous if compared to Lara's injuries. Still, even if they weren't, they'd still be pretty ridiculous.
He would've thought about Lara some more, and how much he admired her and valued her bravery and hoped she was okay and all that jazz, but the throbbing in his head and the ringing in his ears was almost too much to bear.
Until the ringing stopped, replaced by the gentle whispers of footsteps across the grass.
Alex stilled instinctively, breathing shallowly through his nose as the footsteps neared him. Hopefully it was someone coming to help him - maybe Lara, or.. jeez. Who was he kidding? Nobody's going to keep holding his hand through everything, especially not Lara. At least she had known that for herself. But Alex? Pfft.
He decided to keep his eyes closed to give off the impression that he was dead, only opening them if the person was someone he trusted. Thankfully, he felt enough blood on his face to help him out with that, so he figured he'd be alright.
The footsteps came closer as Alex monitored his breathing, keeping his eyes shut tight, but not tight to the extent that it was obvious he was faking his death - just tight enough to ensure that he wouldn't flick them open unintentionally. Naturally, since he couldn't see what was going on, he would have to rely on his ears.
"Damn," An unfamiliar voice began. "The hell do you think happened to this guy?"
If this wasn't a life or death situation, Alex would be laughing his ass off at their sheer gullibility right about now. He had to bite his tongue to keep from doing so.
"I dunno," Another unfamiliar voice. "Do you think he's dead?"
"Nah," the first voice said. "But he's definitely out, that's for sure."
Damn. Smarter than they look - or sound, rather.
"Should we kill him?" The second voice asked, cocking a gun. Alex tried hard not to visibly cringe at the sound, instead keeping himself as calm as possible, on the slim chance that they may reconsider thinking that he was still alive.
"No," the first voice said, and Alex almost wanted to kiss him, despite the circumstances. "Let him get swallowed up by the fire. Judging by all the blood and bruising on his face, he's not gonna wake up in time, anyway. Might as well save the ammo."
Alex would've scoffed, had he been able to make a sound. If they were convinced that was gonna happen to him, then, they'd have another think coming.
He didn't hear anything coming out of the second guy's mouth, so he figured he must've agreed. Yet, a silent pause told him they weren't walking away, which unsettled him. What if they were just staring at him, looking for signs of life? He wasn't about to open his eyes and check, however.
The silence was broken when the first man spoke up once more. "Nikolai will give us hell for getting distracted out here and not looking for the girl. We should go."
The girl? Lara? Sam? Were they okay? Well, obviously they wouldn't be if they were being looked for.
But none of it made sense in Alex's head - it was all fuzzy, and he still had trouble piecing together how and when he got here, or where he even was. He knew he was still on Yamatai, that he was sure of - but who were these men? What did they want with Lara? Where had they taken her?
There was one other thing he was sure of - he had to find her, get the hell out of here, and find the others.
There was another pause, but after a few seconds, Alex heard footsteps; this time, moving farther from him. He let out a soft sigh of relief, and he was just about to get himself off the ground, thinking they were out of eyeshot, or earshot, for that matter, but the first man spoke up yet again. Still, at least his voice sounded farther than it was before.
"I'll go join the rest to look for the girl. You stand guard here in case she comes by."
Another pause. The man must've agreed, again. They seemed to be a little too far for Alex to determine whether or not they were walking farther away from him, so they obviously wouldn't see him opening his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, he opened them slowly, noting that the smell of smoke was much more pungent than it originally was, and the air was much heavier. He didn't have to look around to know that the fire was spreading - and that he should get the hell out of here.
Surely enough, the second man was standing guard several feet away from where Alex was lying, his back facing him. The man shone a flashlight on the ground before him, staring blankly into the trees, as if expecting Lara to just crawl out of them. His eccentric, hobo-like apparel rang familiar in Alex's head somehow, like deja vu. But just as soon as the slight memory came, it was gone.
Alex knew all too well that he could never escape from this guy without making the slightest bit of noise, even with the guy standing maybe a school bus' length away from him. So, he'd have to take him out, but he had no weapons on him, and he's never actually punched someone hard enough to knock them out. With his mind fixated on weapons, he vaguely remembered Reyes placing a pistol in his hand, but didn't know where the hell it could've gone off to.
Maybe one of these guys has it, Alex thought. Oh, God. Reyes is really gonna have my ass. It's not like she doesn't already hate me enough.
But even if he had the pistol, he couldn't shoot him, because it'd make a lot of noise, and of course, noise equals unneeded attention. There's already a ton of these guys on the prowl looking for Lara, judging by the distant voices around him barking out orders. So, yes, he has to take this guy out, that he knows - but quietly.
And as he stood and slowly edged towards the unsuspecting man, he hoped years of memorizing action movies as a kid wouldn't fail him now.
Hooking his right forearm under the man's chin, Alex felt the man start, his pulse racing just beneath his wrist. The man's body began to squirm like a skittish animal, loud choking noises rising from his throat as his hands came up to claw at Alex's sleeved arm, in feeble attempts to free himself. Alex ignored it, cursing under his breath. He'd have to shut this guy up quick before someone saw, or heard. But they seemed too busy shouting orders at each other to even bat an eye.
He lifted his left hand up and rested his palm at the man's left temple, pressing his arm harder against the man's throat. Alex tugged to the side with the man's neck still tucked under his forearm, resulting in a small crack, but it didn't stop the man's choking, clawing, or struggling. Damn you, Hollywood, Alex thought, and your unrealistic methods of killing people.
"Hey, you alright, out there?" A man yelled warily, a dim beam of light shining onto a tree nearby, narrowly missing the spot where Alex was.
Alex bristled, quickly placing a hand over the man's mouth in panic. He cringed at the light spittle beading his palm, but his panic managed to overcome his discomfort.
"Don't worry, it's probably just Hacky Jack hacking up a storm, as usual. He always does this." Another man yelled back, exasperation lining his tone.
Another guy to mark down on Alex's list of people to kiss, because they've saved his ass with their stupidity.
But before that guy could suspect something other than Hacky Jack, Alex knew he had to try something else, because, obviously, this wasn't working. But at least he made some sort of impact - that crack didn't just come out because it felt like it. It was then that a sharp object prodded at Alex's left hip, poked at him through his shirt, and he knew now what he had to try.
Removing his hand from the man's mouth and pressing his face into a tree so his choking was muffled, he gripped the object's handle, lifting it from its holster. It seemed to be an axe of some sort - not crude, by any means. Industrial, actually. But he was wasting precious time by trying to focus on what it looked like. From there, he reached across the man's torso and plunged the axe into the man's stomach, and, with a start, the choking noises stopped abruptly.
With his eyes shut so tightly he thought it would pain him to open them again, Alex continued to push into the man's flesh with the axe, until he was almost sure the blade would jut out of his back. Then, he stopped, as the man's weight began to bear down on him. Alex stepped to the side, the axe slipping out of his fingers, allowing the man to fall like timber to the nearly shin-high grass with a muffled thud.
His lifeless face was frozen in a state of horror; his unseeing eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. Just under the axe, a large blotch of deep scarlet tainted the dull gray of his cargo jacket, slowly swallowing up surrounding parts of the fabric.
Alex stepped back with his eyes wide, horrified with what he had done. He, Alex run-home-to-his-mommy-if-he-saw-a-gun Weiss, had just ended the life of someone who was just alive and breathing moments ago.
He felt the acrid taste of bile rising up in his throat just thinking about the life and the family this guy could've left behind, the life and the family he'd never be able to revisit ever again. At least on this island, you'd have a chance to go back. But now, Alex had taken that chance, which was most likely already pretty slim, away. He knew he'd have to make drastic decisions like this when it came to surviving, but damn, if it didn't make him feel guilty.
It made him almost want to give himself up to these men, who were still none the wiser about what had just happened, but that would be stupid. He didn't kill this man for no good reason. Instead of moping about, which wouldn't fix anything, he decided to tell himself that he had to do whatever he could to survive, and that this man would've done the same, if he were in Alex's shoes.
With that thought circling his mind, he bent down to retrieve the axe and a pistol from the man's body, and continued on, bending his knees and becoming one with the shadows.
If Alex had ever complained to anyone in the past with how much his back hurt from spending a large majority of his day wreaking havoc on his computer, well, he'd definitely been a baby then.
Because not even a stubborn chair at his back for over 12 hours a day could cause more back pain than sneaking around the dense wilderness, scouring with men who thirsted the blood of those who opposed them, with his back bent forward.
He hadn't even been walking that long, and his back - and legs, for that matter - were practically screaming at him to stand upright. But he knew he had to stay as inconspicuous as possible, if he didn't want the beam of a nearby flashlight to give even his foot away to these men. He didn't have to listen to the cacophonous orchestra of anguished shouts, gunshots, and frantic commands to know that they were killing people, and he wasn't about to earn a VIP spot on their blacklist. So, he kept his steps cautious and quiet, and his upper body hunched low, to avoid even the slightest glint of light and to evade the passing strides of the men around him.
The air had become much warmer and more humid, which evoked the beginnings of sweat moistening his neck, and added to his discomfort and irritability. The nervousness of possibly getting caught didn't help matters either, nor did the restlessness of his heart. It made it more of an ordeal to maintain himself in his position, without slowing down or risking getting caught.
The smell of smoke had become stronger, as well. Small amber flurries began to appear, fluttering through the sky as though they were alive, like a swarm of fireflies that emitted a lasting, orangey glow. They reminded him of snow. Snow.
Home.
Before going to uni in England, he'd lived in New Jersey, where the winters were often brutal, and the snow incessant, if not annoying. He'd hated the snow, because it had made his father force his younger self off of the computer to go out and shovel.
Even though he'd hated giving up his computer for the sake of shoveling, he'd found himself enjoying his time outside when he was finished. Making snow angels and snowmen, gathering snowflakes on his tongue, and retreating inside for a warm mug of homemade hot chocolate; it had always made him go from hating the snow, to not minding it as much.
It still snowed in England, but it never felt like home. The rain would soon come, and it wouldn't take long for the fluffy, white snow to turn into gray slush. He also lived in an apartment - a 'flat' was what they called it, in the heart of London - so he didn't have a backyard to be able to enjoy himself in, like he had when he was younger.
He'd never yearned for home like this in years, but he knew he couldn't come back until he 'became a somebody in life, and not just a loner tech addict', as his father had put it. He knew his father would probably laugh at what technology had gotten him into now, and say it served him right. He'd probably laugh harder upon finding out that it had also gotten him in deep shit with the law.
But he was doing what he loved, what he was good at, wasn't he? A lot of kids he went to school with back at home were good at sports, specific subjects, singing, dancing, et cetera. Others were good at breaking hearts. Mind you, none of these things were Alex's strong suits. Still, what he was good at wasn't what everyone was good at, which was the beauty of it.
But, maybe now, he could be able to add 'sneaking past oblivious men with guns and flashlights' to his meager list of talents. Not too many people are good at that, now, are they?
He continued to walk through the forest, letting his mind revisit his childhood and his life before his parents shipped him off to England, until he noticed that the trees around him were beginning to thin out. His instinct told him to straighten, or, his back and legs, rather, but, judging by the heightened amount and volume of commands and voices, there were more men out here in the open than in the forest. So, he stayed low, keeping behind a large slab of wood.
Some of the men were still questioning the girl's life and/or her whereabouts, and Alex thought that whoever the girl in question was, she was pretty good at hiding if she could keep all these men in the dark for this long. Unless she's already escaped. Or, worse, dead. But he couldn't worry too much about that. He'd either find her, a way out, or both.
Until he heard the sharp report of a gun firing nearby, unlike the other distant gunshots that were few and far between, softly rumbling through the air like muffled claps of thunder. Alex jolted at its proximity, and it nearly startled him upright. Following the gunshot were coughing and wheezing noises, which made Alex's skin crawl. In his mind, it rang similar to the man he had killed.
Alex had never forgotten about him in the small span of time that passed, but, rather, placed him in the back of his mind, trying to focus on something else so the undying nausea churning in his stomach wouldn't weigh him down. Even though he had known he would've been dead if he had allowed himself to be caught by him, it did nothing to relieve the amount of guilt that sat tauntingly on his chest like lead.
Still, at least he didn't run into any other men patrolling the forest as close to him as that man was; he didn't want to have to do something drastic to add to the guilt that was already piling up.
But the wheezing and coughing didn't sound masculine. That was where the similarities ended. It sounded feminine; maybe even a bit juvenile. A woman.
He edged closer to the source of the sound, keeping low behind the stone barriers so the men wouldn't see him. There was a hollow, jagged wooden opening into some sort of stone structure, and the other side exposed a bloody head lying on the ground. Dead. Alex's breath hitched.
He had no intentions to get any closer, but that changed when he heard sobbing, and "Oh, God."
Lara. It couldn't be anyone else but Lara. She was who they were looking for. But, why?
Something told Alex she didn't know, either. Perhaps it was just logic.
A new sense of urgency racing through his body, he made his way through the opening, and was greeted by Lara's startled, blood-laden form, and the rest of the man's corpse.
Lara had a pistol clasped in between her hands, lowered in front of her pelvis. Her once luminous complexion was marred by the brownish-scarlet of dried streams of blood, and her eyes were widened, as though she were cornered prey. Strands of her dark hair whipped in the wind, and the fire flurries danced about her form, as though they were seized in her unyielding gravitational pull. And they definitely weren't alone in that.
Alex didn't have to look down to the pistol to know she had killed this man, and she, too, was feeling the exact same amount of guilt he had.
But guilt wasn't the only thing he was feeling. There was something else; this overwhelming urge to want to hug her.
So when she whispered his name in disbelief, he found himself walking towards her, not caring about the blood all over her, that most likely wasn't even hers. He didn't care if she went a day without showering. He just wanted to hug her, because even though he knew better than anyone else that she could tough out anything this island threw at her, he was still more than happy to see she was alright.
She stood there, frozen, even as Alex cocooned her body with his arms. She didn't immediately melt into his embrace, but she didn't push him away, either. She was just so startled; both at the fact that he's about to see her cry, which not many people have, and that she hadn't expected him to ever wake up. She didn't even think she'd see him again. Now that she has, she felt like coming undone. So, she did.
Her hands were still at her sides as she sobbed hysterically, afraid to touch him and discover that he was merely a mirage, a cruel trick her mind was playing on her, as though she hadn't already gone through enough. But the gentle press of his chest against hers felt real, as did the slight rise and fall of his shoulders with every short breath he took. Reluctantly, she gave in, burrowing her forehead into his shirt and wrapping her arms around his waist.
Alex felt himself gulp involuntarily at the contact, his heart teetering on the precipice of the next beat. He'd never held a woman like this; at least, not a woman he admired. But there was this doubt in his mind - something that questioned whether or not this was merely an admiration, or an infatuation.
He put the thought in the back of his head as he let go of her, mumbling to her that he was here, that he was okay. He wanted to know what had happened before he had blacked out, but he didn't want to put her in any more pain trying to make her remember, so he figured he'd ask her eventually, or he'd put two and two together himself.
She sighed deeply once she'd let go of him, looked down at the corpse solemnly, and bent down to retrieve her bow, placing it across her upper body. It was obvious she was trying to not think too much about what she had just done; Alex sure as hell knew how that felt. Still, to Alex's amazement, she soldiered on wordlessly. He didn't exactly know why he found that so amazing since he had done the same just minutes before, but he didn't try to question it.
He followed her past a burning Japanese temple, the heat, humidity, and smoke in the air more prominent than ever. The shouts, groans, and commands of the men around them were becoming more pronounced, as well; some, he could hear clearer than others.
A loud explosion thundered in the distance, resonating over the crackle of the flames and quaking the ground beneath their feet. He winced at the suddenness of the sound, following Lara's example by hunching over and creeping forward swiftly.
"They ran into the forest!" A man yelled. Even though he knew they weren't talking about him and Lara, it did nothing to stop the uneasy feeling through his body, and the sudden instinct to keep close to her - for their own good.
"Get me some light over here!"
After hanging a right, a flimsy-looking plank bridge lay across a small gap before them, and, without thinking about the absolute chaos around him, he darted across it with his knees still bent. He tried not to look out at the expanse of flaming structures and flashlight beams that were exposed to him at his right side, because, surely, that wasn't the only thing being exposed. But, even so, the men were obviously too busy minding the captives on their side of the land to notice anything amiss in the distance. Lara followed at a similar pace, also remaining undetected.
As they reached the other side, another man shouted, "Wait, there!" stopping them in their tracks completely. The only parts of their bodies that moved were their wide, cautious eyes and their racing hearts, seeking out anyone who may have caught them.
"It's not us," Lara whispered, making Alex groan in relief.
They continued to run up a gentle slope of dilapidated stone steps, hearing more commotion and anguished cries and grunts from below them. There was little wonder as to why these men hadn't seen them - there was too much happening around them for any of them to be able to drift off and notice anyone out of eyeshot trying to escape.
"Run! Run!" Someone shouted. It must've been a captive.
"Shut him up!" Another man shouted.
"Find the others.. come on, let's go!"
Okay, now they had to start hauling ass, because, surely, there'd be enough of these men to go around and do outside searches. And at least one of those men are bound to cross paths with Lara and Alex.
They loped across a wooden rope bridge at a faster pace, keeping so low to the ground, Alex's lower legs were beginning to ache with how much weight he had put on them, just like in the forest, and because of how fast he had to move them forward. But the mass of his upper body wasn't the only literal weight put on them - they also had to spar with the incessant temptation to stand upright.
Once arriving at the other side of the bridge, they slipped past another burning temple, this one slightly taller than the last one they saw. Alex bristled whenever he'd hear a man shout, "There!" when he located another captive, but pressed on anyway. They turned left past a lamp and ascended more steps, hearing the panicked pleading of a man nearby. However, the voice wasn't coming from below them - it was coming from the other side of the burning torii.
"Stay back! I'll shoot!" The man cried.
"Take him out." A callous voice responded. Alex gnashed his teeth and braced himself to hear the bang of a gun, only to hear choking noises. They were reminiscent to the man Lara had killed - and the man he, himself, had killed.
Pushing the thought to the back of his head and willing himself to lock it up there forever, never to be uncovered again, he looked back at Lara before proceeding, and the expression on her face threatened to tear his racing heart in two.
She gazed up at him in this terror that was so strong, it was almost tangible. Hell if it wasn't - he was feeling her pain as though it were his own. Her eyes were glazed with unshed, fear-invoked tears. She looked like she was about to cry, vomit, or both - he'd never seen her look this frightened before. Even though she still looked pretty horrified, there were traces of confusion lining her expression, silently asking why he's stopped them.
She had nodded in affirmation when he told her to stay behind until he gave the signal, but the same fearful expression remained, as if she knew he had no idea what he was up against. She'd wanted to stop him, but it was too late, now. He was already edging towards the ill-fated man's body with his pistol in hand, looking around warily for the men who had killed him. The best she can do now is try to intervene if he's really in trouble, which she was more than prepared to do.
Of course, that would work, if she actually had a usable weapon in which to help Alex with. She lacked one at the moment, her quiver empty and her newly-acquired pistol useless. She spotted a magazine lying on the ground, close to where Alex was walking, but she couldn't walk out there, now. He continued to walk forward slowly, but he soon earned the consequences for standing as an arrowhead swiped at his upper arm.
He shouted in pain, collapsing to the ground behind two wooden crates. Lara's chest tightened. She wanted desperately to run over there and get him out of harm's way, but it was already barrelling towards him, full force.
He sat up with his back against the crates, gnashing his teeth and assessing his wound. It wasn't as deep as he thought it would be, but the pain was unimaginable. Even some of the fabric of his shirt was torn. He's had some accidents with concrete sidewalks as a kid, when he used to ride his bike - without training wheels - and get thrown off, but this pain was like driving a shard of glass, dipped in rubbing alcohol, across your arm. Maybe even more so.
He felt the blood trickling down his arm as he feebly attempted to pull his shirt down, willing the tear in his shirt to disappear so the air wouldn't feel so frigid and unforgiving against his wound. It felt as though he were naked in frostbite-inducing temperatures, but even that seemed meager compared to the pain he was feeling.
"Got another one!" A voice yelled, shining a flashlight over a crate, but it wasn't close enough to expose Alex. "He went down over there."
As he tried to ignore the immense pain and profuse bleeding from his arm by looking elsewhere, his gaze fell upon a discarded magazine, most likely left by the man who had just been killed. He reached out for it slowly with his good arm, and after scrambling attempts to place it in the gun the correct way, he had successfully loaded it.
"Is he dead?" Another voice asked dubiously.
Swallowing deeply, as if it would keep his heart from leaping out of his mouth, he stood from his hiding place, aiming the gun at a man with a hoodie, and snidely remarked,
"Not really."
The man cursed at the sight of the gun and tried to run for cover, but his movements became sluggish as the world seemed to rotate slower in the heat of the moment. Alex fired two consecutive shots at the man's upper right leg. The impact of the shots reduced the man to a stoop, but it wasn't enough to take him out. Grinding his teeth, Alex fired a third shot right at the man's bowed head. His hand rose up to the wound as he groaned, his knees buckling before his body finally met the ground.
There was another man who had successfully taken cover behind another set of crates, and Alex aimed at the area, waiting, almost patiently, for him to expose himself in any way. His finger was poised on the trigger, a new-found determination and bravery beginning to settle in his mind before the flame of guilt had a chance to rekindle itself.
The man fixed his posture behind the crate, so Alex shot, but it didn't wound him. It must've just hit his backpack. The man slipped behind another crate, but he had made the mistake of exposing his head. Now, he'd pay for his ignorance - with his life.
Alex shot at the exposed head three times, but it took only one to kill him. Once the world began to breathe again, Alex waited for the guilt to ignite once more, but nothing came. Its dying embers smoldered some, but produced no flame.
And, then, he remembered Lara was watching.
His still hands became clammy again as he turned around to face her, taking in her nearly indiscernible expression. He thought she looked frightened.. but there was something else. Intrigued? No, that couldn't be right. Lara Croft, interested in Alex? What's next? God himself descending from heaven to transport them back to civilization, like some crappy deus ex machina?
But, if she was intrigued, he wasn't about to gloat over it. Instead, he cleared his throat and asked, "Should we get going?"
Lara nodded, the obvious answer, since it wasn't like they had much of a choice. The fire was quickly spreading, from the mere woodpiles to the temples and settlements, and it would soon close in on them if they didn't escape fast enough. And, if the fire didn't kill them, it would be the shouting lunatic cultists below them that would.
Quickly, yet carefully, Lara looted the men of their ammunition with tentative fingers. She maneuvered around their wounds as she rifled through their various pockets and compartments, searching for magazines or arrows. She'd found some salvage parts, at least two magazines and four arrows from the first guy, and seven arrows and six magazines from the second. She split the ammunition with Alex, who was still standing beside her, and kept the arrows for herself.
Alex's arm was still throbbing with every step he took, and he wanted nothing more than to just sit down and wait for himself to stop bleeding, but he'd just be slowing them down that way, and they couldn't afford to do that.
He took the lead while gripping his arm, since he didn't want to lag behind. They arrived at a set of doors that led into a Japanese temple, the fires giving them little other choice on where to go. Alex didn't know where they would end up if they ever got out of there, but he knew he couldn't just sit there and wait to be discovered by the lunatics, or, even worse, burned to a crisp. Either way, they'd both probably prove to be painful ways to go. At least, with this temple, he'd have a fighting chance.
Or, at least, he thought he would.
Lara stepped beside Alex and reached her arms out to pull the door open, but her knuckles touched upon a metal bar just in front of the handles. She cursed under her breath, then remembered her pry axe, and wondered if it were strong enough to break through the latches. But she had nothing to lose if she tried, and nothing to gain if she didn't. So, she grabbed the axe from her pocket, hooked it onto the bar, and tugged with all her might, spreading her legs and planting her feet firmly on the wood beneath her to stabilize herself. Alex would never be able to do this, especially with his bad arm. Seriously, what would he do without Lara?
Lara nearly froze when she heard voices; more distinct than the shouting below them, but still somewhat far away.
"Find anything?" One asked.
"Not yet." Another responded.
Took them long enough, Alex thought. But the rational, non-sardonic side of Alex knew they had to move, and fast. There was little room now, or time, to be mocking.
Lara gritted her teeth and tightened her grip around the axe as she continued to pull it through the latch, knowing that this door was the only thing standing between their escape. If these crazy men caught them, especially trying to escape, only God knows what they'd do to the both of them. She'd heard the cries of the men who were caught, how some of them pleaded for their lives, how they were corralled like animals, and how abruptly and ruthlessly they were killed thereafter.
The fury she felt towards these cultists, and the frustration that she could do next to nothing to save their captives, must've definitely contributed to the amount of force she was exerting upon the stubborn latch, since it gave shortly after she started thinking about them.
Once it gave, the right door creaked open, revealing a room bathed in pitch darkness. Lara anxiously stepped in, Alex following suit. But by the time she had pushed the door shut behind her, a single arrow had pierced it, illuminating the dark, barren room with a tiny pool of orange. And it didn't take a genius to see that this orange light was fire.
"Kill them!" Someone shouted from outside the door. The men must've caught them.
"Burn them out!"
Two more arrows pierced the wood just beside her arms, and it took virtually seconds for the entirety of the doors to catch fire, branching out to the walls of the temple at lightning speed. The fire forced her to step back and keep her body low to the ground, coughing and wheezing.
"You're gonna die in there!" The voice taunted brusquely.
Alex stepped back, coughing, as the flames troubled his sight. He looked around desperately for an out of some sort, but the smoke and the brown fog of debris falling upon them rendered his surroundings opaque. Despite that, he continued to look around, until he felt a strong tug at his shirt, and was pulled down to meet Lara's crouched stance.
"Get down!" She hissed, between seemingly unceasing coughs and wheezes. "Stay close to me."
She couldn't afford to lose him again, especially since they've only just found each other. Alex didn't want to lose her, either. Keeping his head low, he edged closer to Lara, and held his breath, almost releasing it completely upon seeing that Lara was kicking out some old, flimsy-looking wooden barriers.
With each kick, Alex heard the man continue to taunt them from outside, telling them to 'come out', obviously convinced that they wouldn't. Alex wanted nothing more than to punch the smug bastard - with his good arm, of course - square in the face.
Now that they were finally able to crawl out after three kicks, he'd punch him again, just for his insolence. And, as if this were some cliche scene out of an Indiana Jones or Mission Impossible movie, the spot in which they were initially cooped together, was now blockaded by the flames.
They stepped out on a wooden balcony of some sort; giving Lara the impression that this temple must've belonged to someone important. A noble, perhaps? Or maybe it was just a place of worship? But she didn't have time to theorize or muse about what this place was, or who it belonged to. In a few minutes, all of it will be gone, and there'll be nothing left to theorize upon. There'll also be no one left to theorize it, if she didn't move now. Her main concern was finding Roth and the others, and getting the hell out of here. She didn't even choose to dwell on who these cultists may have been. It's obvious they were crazy, and organized, so she wasn't going to stick around and ask questions.
Once they were both finally able to catch their breath, the two of them ran across the balcony, until they reached the edge of a fallen wooden rope bridge. Alex refused to look down the gap, knowing it would make him want to chicken out, and get him stuck here. He wouldn't blame Lara at all for leaving him behind. But now he knew he had to suck it up, and doing so wasn't about impressing her anymore.
Before he could even blink, he spotted Lara at the other side already, having jumped the gap as though it were a measly round of hopscotch on the elementary school playground. She was facing him, obviously waiting for him to follow suit. So, much to his still-throbbing arm's dismay, he did, doing his best to completely ignore the fact that there was no ground below to save him, should he fall or narrowly miss the other side.
He bit his lip hard as the heels of his hands made contact with the wooden ground, that resulted in pain surging up his bad arm. You have to move, you have to move, you have to move, his mind kept telling him, taking advantage of the fact that he really had no other choice but to do just that. Reluctantly, he stood, dusting his hands off with his pants, and trying his hardest to ignore the nagging ache.
Despite himself, he almost wanted to go back and check out the depth of the gap he had just jumped over, but that way, he'd start thinking a bit too highly of himself. Instead, he continued to follow Lara, a box of ammunition coming into view. As she bent down and opened the box, Alex looked around, hearing the familiar crackle of fire in the distance once more, but not as loudly as he had heard it before. This meant they hadn't gone that far; they may be just reaching the outskirts of the village. But at least that meant there'd be less men patrolling these areas, and, of course, there'd be a smaller chance of being caught.
Good. More time to be sluggish - if Lara would let him. But, he wasn't about to test the waters, fearing they'd already be searingly hot.
Once Lara had split more ammunition with Alex, she pressed on, walking up a sloped, stone path. He noticed another burning temple on higher ground, and more burning piles of wood surrounding the base of its hill. He knew they were getting farther because of the absence of gunfire, shouting, and indistinct commands, but bristled when he heard another set of voices. Of course he had to jinx himself - honestly, what was new?
"I don't hear anyone.. what do you think?" A man asked, his voice quieter and less domineering as compared to the others Alex had heard.
"They're probably dead," Another man said flatly.
"Keep looking.. check the other huts!" The first man responded authoritatively, and Alex found it hard to believe he was the same man who had just spoken of their unknown whereabouts so tentatively. He most likely wasn't - since most of these men sounded the exact same. That observation placed a few thoughtful questions in his head.
What if these men were all genetically-engineered clones, genetic mutations, or bots, as he had speculated on board the Endurance? What if this island was the home of some sort of secret homicidal dynasty, with these human-looking bots as their servants?
If he told Lara all this, she might just start thinking he was speaking a different language, and think he was even more of a lunatic than these cultists, like she probably did on the ship. But what if there was some slim chance that his eccentric conspiracy theories were actually accurate?
No, Weiss, he thought, You're just being stupid. You know that there's no rational explanation for what's happening, so you're looking to make bullshit excuses for what you think is happening, just so you'll have this false sense of closure. And, by doing so, you're making yourself look like a tool.
Wow, was his conscience an asshole. Well, at least it was honest, and right, most of the time. Honesty wasn't always a hot fudge sundae with whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles, and a cherry on top. But when was it ever?
After Lara had pocketed some arrows and aged, yellow pamphlets, they continued to follow the path, hiding behind a toppled wheelbarrow once they spotted someone shining a flashlight from above a ledge of some sort. The light pooled in an area that was dangerously close to where they were.
Lara removed her bow from over her shoulder with a solemn expression, knowing all too well what her only other option was if she wanted to avoid getting caught.
"Hey! Hey, you find any more down there?!" A voice shouted.
"No, nothing, but keep an eye out! The fires may send a few your way!"
As the man's flashlight scanned over the area, Lara smoothly reached behind her, drew an arrow from her quiver, fit it to the bowstring, and raised the bow, fully exposing herself from behind the wheelbarrow. Alex wanted to pull her back, scared to death that she'd be caught, but that would blow her chances to eliminate him. She clearly knew what she was doing and what she was up against. She could take care of herself; and, instead of whining about how he'll never be able to be her knight in shining armor, he hoped she could possibly show him the ropes on how he could be self-sufficient, as well. He couldn't depend on her forever.
Luckily, the man didn't see her - yet. Before he even had the chance to scan the area more thoroughly from above the overlook, she had already pulled the cord back as far as she could; and released it once he was standing before the shortest part of the mossy stone barrier.
Once the arrow made contact with his chest, his body lurched backwards. His momentum carried him forward as he tumbled over the barrier, letting him fall headfirst to the ground as if he weighed next to nothing. He was a pretty bulky-looking man, from what Lara could see. And she had just taken him out with a measly bow and arrow. However, she wondered if he were really dead. Maybe she had just narrowly missed his heart and he was still alive? No, that couldn't be. Even if she did miss, that fall alone would've been enough to cause some serious damage to his neck. And, she must've at least destroyed a major artery or vein or something with her arrow. That should've been enough.
After she had placed the bow back across her shoulder, she pressed on, feeling extra heat given off by the larger, burning temple just adjacent to the stone path. She walked to the man, who was as good as dead, thankfully. She began to loot his corpse with this minute sense of efficiency that wasn't there before, not moving her hands as slowly as she had with the first two men. However, it still proved to be a challenge; not because of the fear and guilt that still resided, albeit unwelcomed, in her mind, but because of the flaming woodpiles just next to him, and how quickly he would soon catch fire, as well. She surely could've avoided that if she pulled him out of the fire's path, but she had no desire to do so.
She increased her pace as the fire taunted her with crackling noises. She had retrieved salvage parts from his pockets, and all three arrows from his quiver. It wasn't much, but Lara felt she had no real room to complain, since his body was no weapon armory. Granted, it would be hard to complete stealth kills without arrows.
After that, she scrambled up the flat wall, pushing herself up on the ledge with her left leg, and noticing another ammunition box. Wary of the flames just behind the box, she quickly split the ammunition with Alex once he joined her atop the ledge, gritting his teeth since he was using his bad arm as though it had never been injured. He quickly tried to save face and get over it, since they couldn't afford to stop or slow down.
They continued to what looked to be a wooden ramp. Lara had noticed even more burning temples along her right side view, knowing they were getting closer to the outskirts. However, when she stood at the highest point of the ramp, she had no other option but to jump and grab onto the beam of the wooden structure for dear life. She knew the risk she was putting herself, and Alex, in, without even looking down, but what else could they do? They couldn't just go back.
Before she jumped, she remembered that Alex wouldn't be able to grab on firmly, since his arm was still badly injured. He couldn't even scramble up a flat wall without wincing. However, like she had realized earlier, she couldn't go back or find any sort of shortcut. She looked down, seeing even more flaming woodpiles at the bottom of the gap. If he missed or lost his grip, he'd be killed.
"Alex," She whispered to him, turning around. He blinked at her nervously, prompting her to go on. She sighed helplessly, averting his gaze. "You're gonna have to jump." She mumbled, still looking down.
Alex furrowed his eyebrows, assessing the present severity of his wound. It throbbed indignantly as he looked at it, obviously displeased at the fact it was receiving little attention; especially medical attention.
"But.. my arm -" He stammered, but Lara cut him off.
"Yes, I haven't forgotten about your arm," She said icily, frustrated at, not Alex, but her lack of options. Alex cringed a little, her words slicing him open like a dagger. Lara's never talked to him like that; not even when she told him to educate himself back on the Endurance, and that was supposed to have a more insulting context. It was implying that he was ignorant, and not just in the not-knowing way; in the stupid way. Even if the underlying cause of her annoyance did not point to him, it still hurt more than that comment ever would.
"But what else can we do?" She questioned him in a calmer tone, rhetorically, of course, since she didn't expect him to have an answer. He was at a loss just as much as she was, but even if he did have an answer, he wouldn't want to say it, anyway. He was already in deep water with her, and did not want to object to her ideas, out of the fear that she'd just blow up at him.
He sighed when she turned around, mentally preparing herself to jump off the ramp. She thrashed her arms forward as she leaped off, and exhaled briskly in relief when her hands closed around the beam. As she shimmied across to the other side of the wooden structure, Alex still stood at the edge of the ramp hesitantly, standing as still and as stiff as a lone cactus in the barren desert. He did not want to make the jump, because he barely knew of his injured arm's present strength, especially for carrying his own weight with no ground support whatsoever, and feared he'd get killed for his ignorance, since his arm could barely handle the wall scramble from earlier.
But, as Lara had asked, what else could he do?
Ignoring the nervous churn of his stomach, he braced himself, and jumped with his eyes closed, reaching out blindly with both arms. He didn't want to see himself begin to enter the realm of imminent death if he fell. And, if his eyes were closed, he wouldn't have to see his life flash before them - wouldn't have to see glimpses of his quaint colonial-style home back in Jersey, his older sister in a graduation cap, his parents, the virgin white snow he hated shoveling but loved playing in, the tendrils of steam rising from the mug of homemade hot chocolate his mother always made him - and, most of all, he would not have to, nor did he want to, see Lara's face.
Then, his eyes flicked open as his hands came into contact with something hard, almost bumping his forehead into it. Startled, he shook his head, trying to snap out of his stupor. He was actually holding onto the beam with both hands - it hurt like he didn't even know what, but he was holding on. At least the pain was more irritating than anything else, now.
Once he was at the last ledge, he accepted Lara's outstretched hand and clambered clumsily atop the platform as quietly as possible, hearing someone muttering about a wallet and a dead phone. He shuffled closer, joining her crouched form behind two conveniently placed crates, trying to focus on what was happening. As the gruff voices would suggest, there stood two men. One was hunched over, his back turned, who appeared to be looting someone with a fire going on in the corner, and another standing at his left, not facing his partner or the body he was looting.
Lara pressed an index finger to her lips once Alex got close enough, as if the noises he made rivaled that of a raucous two-year-old's with no parents in sight. Alex grimaced petulantly, knowing better than anything that he had to be quiet. He wasn't stupid.
Come on, L.C., he thought, I'm not that useless. Give me some credit, here. I saved your life, like, twice.
Damn, now his conscience wasn't the only asshole here. He was just so glad he didn't say that out loud, or he would've earned a perfectly warranted slap in the face, which would give away their position.
God, you're such an immature little prick, his conscience told him. It's so hard to believe you're actually older than her, when you act like such a prepubescent boy sometimes. Lara owes you nothing for saving her life; not even the slightest bit of slack. The only reason why you want to protect her, is because you know she's not the type of person to ever forget that and not want to repay you with something - and, in your case, she'll repay you with her attention. Man up. Grow a pair. Protect her because you want to, not because of what'll come out of it. You've already started doing it without my counsel. Now, you just need to get into the habit of doing it.
Like any other time, his conscience was right. It was like he had a father-away-from-father in his head; criticizing and berating him when he deserved it. So, he never really felt alone when he was alone, since his father's strict, yet constructive mindset took partial residence in Alex's mind.
But, wait - what did it mean by "you've already started doing it without my counsel"? It never even occurred to Alex that he was changing his demeanor around Lara, like it had implied. However, he was much too inexperienced in the field of women and admiration for them, to know whatever the hell that meant, so he let it go.
"So, what came in, another tanker?" The crouching man asked.
Lara was still hiding, trying to determine the right time to strike. She noticed an ammunition box behind the crate just diagonal from where she was, but she didn't want to take the risk of dashing over there and getting caught, even if the men weren't facing her.
The standing man blew out what looked to be smoke before speaking. "Nah, looked like some kind of research ship." Their voices sounded somewhat dismissive, not as excited or fervent as the other men.
"Should be some good stuff, then." Now the crouching man sounded interested; which didn't quite surprise Alex, mainly because of what he was currently doing. It'd be an okay loot cache, that is, if he can find a way to get on it. That ship was, no pun intended, wrecked. But, even if this guy did find a way to get on it, there'd be little left for him to raid. Except, maybe, Lara's iPod, or Alex's day-old laptop; if they weren't already broken. Maybe they'd find a bag of rice or something in the kitchen to put Lara's iPod in. Anything was possible with these bastards.
"We'll find out soon. We got our crew towing it in now." See? Of course they found a way. So, if anything really was possible with these bastards, could there be a possibility that some aspect of Alex's conspiracy theories were true?
He's back at it again, folks.
"Think we'll get any new recruits outta this bunch?" The second man asked as the first man took another drag from a cigarette, blowing out more smoke.
Recruits? Lara set her jaw indignantly. Why would anyone aboard the Endurance want to be recruited by you, after you've held them captive? Is this really how desperate this island makes people, that they'd side with the enemy if it got them back to civilization? Christ, what is this place?
"Fuck, man, I don't know."
Lara was done listening to them talk. Every second she wasted listening to their conversation as if it were some sort of sitcom, could've been spent getting out of here. Biting the inside of her cheek to spite herself, she quickly grabbed an arrow from her quiver, as if her swiftness would make up for the seconds lost, fit it to the string, and pulled it back. She was initially aiming at the second man's head, but that would just be plain stupid, since, of course, that would get the other guy hostile, even though he wasn't facing him. Instead, she aimed her arrow at the rock face between their heads, and released the string.
The two men straightened after the arrow made a clink sound, penetrating the rock.
"You hear that?" The second man asked panickedly, abruptly standing up. He began to walk towards the rock face with his bow now in hand, assessing the arrow as if trying to make sense of where it came from. "Stay here, I'll check it out."
The first man was looking bewilderedly at the wooden ground beneath his feet, as if the arrow had possibly come from there. Lara almost cracked a smirk. "Idiot." She muttered, before pulling out another arrow, fitting it to the string, and pulling it back, aiming it at the man's head. Once it was far enough, she released it. When the arrow hit his head, his body staggered forward clumsily and sank to his knees, crumpling to the ground on his side.
The second man was still trying to figure out where the first arrow came from, but was not looking anywhere behind him. He didn't even notice what had become of his partner, since all that came out of him was a light thud and a small strangled sound from his throat when he fell. That would've been easy to miss, what with the small crackling fire the man had going on in the corner, the ambience of the night, (which Alex found odd - in total chaos, crickets could still find the audacity to chirp?) and the explosions from where all the chaos was occurring.
Now, this man's total obliviousness to what was happening around him was strengthening Alex's belief in the homicidal robot theory, because Lara literally could've gone right up to his partner and shot him with a 12-gauge, and he wouldn't even bat an eye. "Such idiots." She mumbled to herself, punctuating the insult with an arrow to the unsuspecting man's head.
He let out a guttural groan, decibels louder than his partner's, as he fell backwards, lodging the arrow deeper into his skull. Once she put the bow down, she checked if she had more space available for more ammunition, but all her pockets were jammed to the maximum. She didn't want to risk losing any if too much fell out, so she was forced to ignore the ammunition box, doing the same with the men as she looted them for only arrows and salvage. Then, she heard a light creak from above her, and saw a man begin to descend an unrolled wooden ladder.
"What's going on down there? Everything okay?" The man asked worriedly, sounding almost juvenile, like he had just recently been 'recruited'. This was how young these men were taught to be cruel, taught to kill, taught to think red.
What scared Lara the most, was that he reminded her of another young American freshman in her uni back in London, who had hailed from Oregon. He was tall, blonde, and blue-eyed, yet babyfaced and shy, and usually resembled a kicked puppy most of the time. His name was William, she remembered. This man reminded her of William so much, that if she ever got out of this place and went back to uni, she'd never be able to look at him the same again. It made her stomach twinge at the thought of someone as naive and green as he, or any other poor young man possibly marooned on this island in the past, being forcibly molded into a heartless killer.
Which was why it physically hurt her to fire an arrow into his back, and why it almost made her want to break down and cry as he lost his grip on the rungs, falling with an anguished howl.
Suddenly, she felt cold, and it wasn't because of the temperature. She placed her bow back across her shoulder, hugging herself tightly and brushing her hands up and down her forearms, standing stiffly in front of the three bodies she had just been responsible for killing. Especially the final one, which she couldn't help but gawk at.
And all she saw was William.
She sniffled, the guilt of her first kill hurtling at her full force, and realizing that these initially normal, ordinary men weren't the only ones being molded into heartless killers. She didn't even try to deny it. She knew it was true. She just wished it didn't hurt so much to want to protect herself, to want to protect the people she cared about.
To want to protect Alex.
She didn't want to show any more weakness in front of him, or in front of anyone, for that matter. like she did when they saw each other again, but that, she just couldn't help. Now, she had to control herself, even though he could've cared less about seeing her cry. There was a difference between not wanting to see someone cry, and not wanting to see someone hurt, although that difference seemed cryptic. Well, at least to Lara.
Alex wanted so desperately to hug her, but his arm was still throbbing after all this time, and even something as minor as a hug could be the feather to break the camel's back. He'd have to conserve the lack of strength that was still stored in it, for something more laborious, before he finally couldn't take it anymore.
He figured the least he could do was loot the man for her, but she refused to take any of his ammunition. Instead, she stepped over him, feeling even more guilty as she did so, and began to climb the rungs of the ladder.
Just when she thought things couldn't possibly get any better, she heard Roth's voice over the walkie talkie.
"Lara, are you there?" He asked urgently. Alex almost fell off the ladder in relief.
"Yes!" She confirmed breathlessly. If Roth was okay, surely he knew of the others' whereabouts.
"I can see smoke coming from the old ruins, are you okay?"
"Oh, God.. Roth, We're in trouble, Alex and I. They're killing people." She began, taking only one breath in that entire sentence.
A beat of silence, then thunder, actual thunder, and not just a nearby explosion or gunshot, sounded.
"What? Who?" Roth questioned incredulously.
"Men.. I don't know why. We had to kill some of them. We had no choice." She confessed, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she remembered the man so closely resembling William.
Another beat of silence. Lara was nearing the top of the rock.
"That can't have been easy." Roth breathed, unable to believe the young woman he's known and taken care of through most of her childhood, was capable of killing men who could've been at his age or stature.
"It's scary just how easy it was. You've got to warn the others, Roth." She said, pushing herself up onto the platform of land that the ladder led up to.
"Don't worry about them right now. You just do whatever it takes to get to me, Lara."
One last beat. Lara sighed resignedly, knowing all too well that would most likely result in the killing of more men; some callous, some like the young man, even though she tried relentlessly to keep him at the back of her mind, like the first man she killed. At least she could admit the first man deserved it. But, even if the young man were armed with a lethal chainsaw, she'd still think he didn't deserve to die.
"We'll try."
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