Author's Note
I rewrite minor details and add dialog to past chapters to make ALD more enjoyable and cohesive, so reread them if interested. Still, I don't stray from the master story outline, so you're not missing any major plot points. There will be a new chapter at least every week. Public reviews are appreciated, and favoriting is excellent feedback. Don't be shy to request scenes you'd like me to write.
Best,
cryptic8
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Arendelle's Lost Daughter
Chapter VI: Escaping Fire
"Mrs. Asta? Elsa? Elsa! Can you hear me?" Isak's frantic eyes darted around The Lost Daughter's face, trying desperately to find a sign that she was still with him.
Suddenly, Isak began to feel a warm liquid where his hands supported the small of her back. It started to travel briskly down his forearm and drip onto the floor from his elbow. Isak's eyes widened, and his face burst with shock and horror.
She's bleeding!
Yes, indeed, some of Elsa's vicious lashes split open the moment she stood, causing a dire amount of blood to begin to escape from her body. Isak had to act fast. He tried to remember his First Aid training from boot camp, but his racing mind made it hard to capture any thought and stick with it.
I don't know what to do! He admitted to himself, desperately scanning the cellar for a tool he could use to stop the bleeding. In his defense, the cellar wasn't exactly designed with First Aid in mind. This awful place isn't going to help us!
He repositioned her in his arms bridal style and used gravity and his forearm to apply as much pressure as possible to the afflicted area. He noticed her toes scrunch.
She's still with me.
"Keep fighting, Elsa! We're going to get out of here right now! You're going to be okay; you're going to be okay; you're going to be okay," Isak repeated frantically, more trying to convince himself.
Isak had never been so frightened. His heart was racing a mile a minute, and his blood rushed through every vein with momentum, filling him with adrenaline. He quickly pushed the heavy metal door open, letting the light back into the cellar. Taking one last look, he noticed Elsa's unlocked chains in a tangled mess, sitting among dried puddles of her blood.
I'm so sorry, Elsa. I promise you'll never suffer again, Isak thought before rushing into the dim concrete hallway. His left knee was killing him; he felt a sharp surge of pain with every limped step. He felt the intense progression of time, knowing he only had moments to figure out how to help Elsa's precarious state.
Focus on what is immediately necessary, Isak. The best thing you can do is get Elsa away from this place. Worry about her injuries when you're both safe.
Isak's breathing was rapid and unsteady as he approached the empty center foyer of the lower level. What now? His eyes scanned the space. It was filled with cobwebs, mice, boxes, and documents. He adjusted Elsa in his arms as sweat ran down his forehead towards his eyes. To make matters worse, he began to hear the creaking of footsteps above him, clearly traveling towards the basement door.
"... Yeah, I'll go get 'em," a muffled voice registered in Isak's alert ears.
Shit! Isak's eyes darted desperately around the near-darkness. As if an answer from God, he noticed a dusty label in red, bolded ink behind a stack of boxes near the left corner of the open area.
A fire escape!
He wasted no time limping towards it. He gently set Elsa's bare feet on the floor, letting her back lean on his right arm. His left savagely pushed each box out of the way, some heavier than others. Exposing the dusty and webbed window, he tried to lift it with one arm.
It won't budge! Isak thought in frustration.
Suddenly, Isak heard the basement door swing open and heavy footsteps begin down the stairs.
Isak wasted no more time and kicked out the glass with Clown's steel-toed boots, which were too small for his feet. He hoisted Elsa back into both arms and rushed through the egress, cutting his right arm on a sharp shard of glass.
"Brutus, are you and Mr. Fucksticks fucking each other? What's going on down here?"
The masked man finally entered the lower-level foyer. Adjusting his eyes to the dim light, he saw a cluttered mess of boxes and documents.
"W-What the hell?!" he shouted, sprinting towards them and noticing the shattered fire escape.
I didn't even know we had a fire escape down here!
Scared to travel through it himself because of the broken glass, he quickly started after Elsa's cellar to confirm his fear.
Her door is open!
He kicked the metal to show the complete hellhole. There, he instantly noticed Elsa's tortuous chains, unoccupied and, lying near them, a limp man.
"Brutus!"
Erik rushed to his comrade's side, eyes scanning his bloody mess of a body.
"W-Who d-did this to you!? Was it Elsa!?"
He looked frantically around the cellar, trying to collect any more information about the events that transpired here. Knowing it was too late for Brutus, Erik backed into the hallway, running his hands through his balding hair and hyperventilating.
That Spec Ops. He did this! I thought Clown killed him! He told us he did?! That idiot! We told him he was far too dangerous to keep alive!
The masked brute manically started towards the basement stairs, stumbling and tripping as he returned to the main level, bursting through the door.
The seven comrades stopped their playful chatter and looked towards the distressed Erik.
Erik couldn't speak; he just stood there, breathing rapidly, sweat spilling out from under his mask. They all looked around at each other, some standing, sensing the tension in the moment.
Finally, Erik was able to make his words sound.
"E-Elsa… escaped! Spec Ops i-isn't dead; he's got her. They got out through the fire escape! He killed Brutus and Clown!"
The men sprang into immediate action, applying their masks as they grabbed their automatic weapons, shotguns, and radios, signaling to lock down the perimeter. Some went left, some went right, all assuming their positions, barking orders, and tripping over each other.
Erik unholstered his own weapon and placed his radio in his mouth. All the comrades heard his distorted voice yell the words,
"Shoot on sight! I repeat: shoot on sight!"
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Isak's mind relentlessly instructed him to run. There was no other action, no other possible plan, scheme, or ruse he could create. His left knee screamed as he pressed it explosively into the ground over and over. The pain wasn't scaring him; it was fear that he would trip, hurt Elsa, and give the Clowns a chance to catch up. He looked down at the platinum-blonde hair blanketing his arm, feeling a strong, sudden sense of determination kick him to go even faster than he was already going.
Newland Forest! He thought as his eyes caught the maze of green and brown in front of him, perfect for cover.
Isak started to hear the whizzing of bullets near his body, jolting his heart and making him even more alert to his surroundings. He nestled Elsa's head protectively near his shoulder as he tried to push his body to go impossibly faster. He looked to his right and left, seeing masked men on foot and in vehicles, all attempting to shoot at him.
We're going to get shot dead! Isak admitted, looking down at Elsa, thankfully unaware of the situation.
She has already lost so much blood! I must get her medical attention; I can't save her alone!
He scraped and weaved through dense trees, avoiding rocks and roots that would cause him to trip; he did his best to confuse the men chasing him. Bullets chipped the bark of trees and whizzed past his ears, but somehow, not one hit him. Isak's long legs helped his stride; he was fast, considering his own injuries. Still, he felt his energy diminishing rapidly.
Everything became blurry to Isak. He lost track of his location, how far he had traveled, and in what direction civilization was. And, before he could notice that the gunfire ceased, he hit the ground hard, dropping Elsa, breaking his left leg, and cutting his neck on a root.
He laid there staring up at the break in the trees, mouth agape in agony. He was paralyzed in exhaustion, fear, and scorching pain.
I can barely move.
I can't speak.
Elsa is likely dead.
The Clowns will find us.
I'll never see Isla again.
I failed.
Isak gave up and let his body go limp. He began to feel a numbing sensation wrap around his left leg, and a high-pitched ringing gradually infiltrated his ear. He decided to stop torturing himself with his negative thoughts and spend his last few moments on earth in peace. He listened intently to his surroundings.
The birds chirped. The wind whistled. The creek trickled.
He turned his neck slightly to the right, searching for Elsa. There, she laid in a similar state to him, still unconscious. Her bruised and battered body mocked Isak, reminding him of the deserved redemption she never got to experience. He saw her intermittently shiver.
Isak used the last shred of his physical energy to remove his thick yet tattered shirt. His arms shook as he attempted to gently wrap her in it, hoping it would warm her up just a little. He faltered as he finished the job, crashing back to the ground, unable to move any part of his body. With his bare skin exposed to the fall air, he shivered violently.
Suddenly, just as Isak considered traveling into the mysterious white light, he heard the rustling of leaves, a team of concerned voices, and a helicopter move to hover above a break in the thick trees.
The Clowns found us, he thought.
Isak's cracking voice rang out in a heart-breaking desperation, nearly sobbing through his words.
"P-Please! Y-you c-can do what e-ever you want to me! Please, please, please let her go! She's had enough! She's innocent! Innocent! Do you hear me?! I'll tell you whatever you want to know; I'll do whatever you want me to do; please spare her! No more! No more! Please stop this madness!"
But, right as Isak expected a swift bullet to the head, he felt the gentle gloved hands of two EMTs tending to his wounds.
Suddenly, he saw him: Special Operative Kristoff Bjorgman and a team of fellow Arendelle soldiers, weapons drawn, patrolling and securing the area.
Kristoff was shocked and horrified as he rushed to Isak's side and spoke.
"Brynjar! We got your distress signals two days ago! We figured it was jammed; it led us 24 miles north of here, but he worked our way in all directions, then followed the gunfire!"
Elsa! We're saved!
Isak tried to smile through his unbelievable pain as he attempted to shake Kristoffs extended hand, cupping it in his own.
"Took y-you long enough," Isak joked with a choke and a violent cough.
The chatter of voices made by the professional medical personnel and soldiers was chaotic yet organized. Isak felt someone move his leg and let out an ample grunt, sweat dripping down his face.
"Sorry, sir! Your left leg is broken. We must stabilize it, or we could do more damage as we transport you!"
Isak turned his head back towards Elsa, immensely satisfied at the attention she was receiving. They placed a white sheet down, gently rolled her on it, counted back from three, and hoisted her up to the helicopter hovering above on an orange makeshift gurney.
"You're next," Kristoff's voice came, letting go of Isak's hand and standing back.
Before Isak could prepare himself, he felt himself undergoing the same process he witnessed them perform on Elsa.
"Wait," Isak's weak voice rang out before they began his ascension. He looked towards Kristoff and beckoned him to come closer. The blonde mountain-man obliged, leaning towards Isak's head with his ear.
"Kill those bastards slowly. No amount of pain could be a fraction of what she felt." Isak informed, with a radical vengeance boiling in his heart.
Kristoff's eyes flashed their own rage. He sent him a nod of affirmation before signaling the soldiers to hoist Isak up.
Isak felt himself drifting away as he ascended towards the helicopter. He was freezing, but it helped manage his pain. By the time he reached the top, he was unconscious. Placed by Elsa, the two were rushed south towards Arendelle Central, the top-rated teaching hospital in the nation. The medical professionals tended to the Lost Daughter's wounds with care, wincing at the horrors that scarred her body.
"W-What did they do to her?" One woman asked in pure disbelief.
The professionals were silent. No one could handle the implications of Elsa's blatant mistreatment. It was a total slap-in-the-face. For years, Arendellians were sure she was dead. Now, they find out, all this time, she was suffering at the hands of maniacs? It was jarring. Unsettling.
"Looks like we're bringing in a couple of heroes," someone stated.
Nods and grunts of agreement were heard among the helicopter's loud blades.
"Arendelle's never going to be the same," said another.
As the ride ended atop Arendelle Central helipad, doctors and nurses came rushing out of the bay, ready for action.
"Who do we have here?" a woman in blue scrubs inquired, tying her mask around the back of her neck.
The EMTs on the helicopter looked at one another, and then one finally spoke.
"Special Operative Isak Brynjar and…"
Arendelle's Lost Daughter
"Elsa Asta."
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