Two dots of golden light appeared in front of them. They were mere pinpoints, but it didn’t matter. The sun had risen, and somehow, the light had found its way in. They’d follow it to salvation.
Elena began to fight her, twisting away and clawing at Aleandra’s grip. “No,” she moaned. “No — it’s them! It’s them!”
“Ssh, we’re almost there. Just a bit farther—”
At first the warmth was welcome, but then the burning began, intensifying until she yelped. Aleandra flailed at her arm, certain it was on fire.
Her fingers swished through nothingness.
Her arm was gone.
Elena screamed, her cries soon drowned out by a horrific tearing noise. Aleandra, temporarily forgetting about her missing limb in her rush to save her friend, went after her until two pinpoints of golden light made her freeze.
They weren’t pinpoints any longer.
They were eyes.
In their glow, she watched a hunched and horrid thing — a creature of nightmares — tear her friend’s head off with its teeth.
There is nothing you can do for her now, my love. Back away, as quietly as you can. Don’t give them a reason to chase you.
She wanted nothing more than to fall to the ground wailing, but hearing Sasha’s voice calmed her. She crept backwards, ignoring the chewing and slurping, forcing the atrocious image of her friend’s death from her mind. Steadying her remaining hand against the wall, she relied on Sasha to guide her.
A little bit farther, just a little bit farther. Can you move more quickly? That’s my girl. Quiet now.
It took forever until she couldn’t hear them any longer, but they could close the distance between them in seconds.
Look in your boot, Allie.
She didn’t question his voice in death, just as she’d never had reason to question it in life. Dropping into a crouch, she crossed her left hand over to her right foot, where something had been rubbing against her skin. Forcing her hand into the tiny space between her ankle and the boot, her fingers closed around something hard. She knew what it was without seeing. She remembered how Grigory had held onto her foot, how he’d given it that last shove.
You’re almost there. Just one more thing, and you’ll be free.
She didn’t want to do one more thing. What she wanted was to lie down and go to sleep. Her legs grew more unwilling to carry her, and spots flashed before her eyes, temporarily blinding her. Aleandra knew she was going into shock from the loss of blood and her arm but was powerless to prevent it. If she didn’t get medical attention soon, she would die. Perhaps she was dead already, since she was listening to a ghost.
You’re still alive. Keep moving.
It was as if she were a puppet on a string, lured by his voice, helpless to fight it. She moved forward, feeling like she was slogging through quicksand. She stumbled more frequently now, and each time, it was more difficult to regain her balance. The temptation to lie down was almost irresistible. After all, who would hire a one-armed nurse? Who would love her now that Sasha was gone?
I’m not gone; I’m right here with you. I’ll be with you as long as you need me. Keep moving. Only a few steps more, my love.
She sensed it long before she heard it breathing or smelled its fetid stink. The darkness had changed, becoming her friend instead of her enemy, concealing her from view.
It’s all that stands between you and freedom, and it’s asleep. Do you hear that?
She heard the rumbling snore, human-like except for its volume. This time she didn’t need Sasha to tell her what to do. She removed the sheath from his father’s gift, tracking the creature by instinct.
When she was close enough to feel its heat, it opened its golden eyes, giving her a target. Silent as a shadow, Aleandra drew back her remaining arm and stabbed the knife through those eyes, hacking away until the golden light was gone. There was a shuddering thud as the creature fell at her feet. She’d struck so quickly, it hadn’t had time to warn the others. Panting, she leaned against the cave, wiping away the sweat that drenched her brow.
You did well, my darling. You see it now, don’t you?
This time the light was a faint peach, anemic compared to the gold. She wouldn’t be fooled again. New strength filled her legs, and her pace quickened until she was half-running, half-sliding through the tunnel. Then freezing air hit her face and she was outside, free from that stinking darkness and death.
She plunged into the knee-high snow, never stopping, wincing against the unfamiliar light. It was difficult to keep her balance with only one arm, but she managed. Sometimes she listed to the side and paused for a moment to catch her breath, but not too long.
They hunt at night. They won’t come after you in the daylight, but you need to get help.
The apricot sun was high above her by the time she reached their campsite. Ignoring the blood that darkened the snow outside the tents, she walked towards the one that mattered most.
No, my darling. You need your kit.
Aleandra reluctantly changed course and headed for her own tent, the only one not smeared and spattered with blood. She had Elena to thank for her survival, and once she got out of there, she would make sure the world knew how heroic her friend had been, how brave.
Forcing her stiff fingers into position, she unsnapped the latch on her medical kit, and one by one, withdrew the necessary supplies. Pulling aside her ruined jacket with her teeth, she packed gauze into the gaping hole where her arm had been and wrapped it, securing the bandage against the opposite shoulder. The exposed nerves were frozen, so she felt little pain — only exhaustion.
Crawling now, she left her clean tent for one awash with gore. No matter. She needed to see him, to touch him, whatever state he was in.
His stomach had been ripped open, a terrible wound, but the worst of it was concealed by his snowsuit. She covered him with a sleeping bag, hiding the rest. His face, his beautiful face, looked just the same. Once she lowered his lids, she could pretend he was sleeping. Lying beside him, she lifted his arm, bringing it around her like a blanket, imagining he held her close. She nestled her head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent, memorizing it, ignoring the sickly-sweet tang of his blood.
“You’re not dead,” she murmured. “Just sleeping.”
Stay with me a little longer, my love. You’re safe now.
And that was where they found her, asleep in his arms. The sight of the doomed lovers brought tears to their eyes.
The rescuers screamed when she spoke. They’d thought she was a corpse.
Even in her weakened condition, it took three men to pry Sasha from her arms.
It took even longer for her to explain what had happened to Grigory. In the beginning, they thought she was delirious, hallucinating. But eventually, they believed.
The team that went to retrieve him never returned.
BLACK LUNG
Aaron Sterns
1 ‒ FORM-UP POINT
THE COMMISSION TOWER rises like an ancient monolith against the darkening Melbourne skyline. Rooftop floodlights flare against the low smog and for a moment the entire top seems on fire, yellow flames of light steaming upwards. Herald journalist Liz Henderson tries to focus on the strangely beautiful image from her relegated observer position, but her mind reels so much with everything she’s seen in the last few days she can’t concentrate.