Realizing that he’s luring Ben around so I can sneak up behind him, I start to carefully make my way through the darkness. I don’t dare move any faster, and I know that one wrong step could ruin the entire plan. Still, reaching down to my belt, I feel for my knife.
“Sorry,” Ben continues, with his gun still aimed at Deckard, “but your sudden return wouldn’t exactly go down too well. Harold already—”
“Just let me talk to him,” Deckard says calmly. “That’s all I want. A chance. That’s all anyone wants in this world, right? A chance to explain himself.”
He pauses, as if he’s waiting for me to make my move, but I’m still too far back.
“I still have a lot to offer,” he continues after a moment. “I might be an old man but I’ve been on the island for a long time and I know how things work around here. I know how people work, too, and I know who to trust and who to give up on.” He pauses for a moment, and for a fraction of a second his eyes glance at me before he quickly looks back at Ben. “There are people on this island who I consider to be among the finest I’ve ever met, people I trust with my life. People I’ve believed in from the first moment I met them, and who I’ve still believed in even when they’ve doubted themselves, even when I’ve had to push them to achieve their best.” He pauses again, and this time his eyes stay fixed on Ben as I continue to sneak up behind. “People far better than a piece of scum like you.”
“Save the speech,” Ben sneers. “You’re just—”
Suddenly he starts to turn, as if he’s sensed my presence. Before I can react, Deckard lunges at him, and Ben turns back around. All I can do is watch in shock as Ben fires twice, hitting Deckard in the chest with two energy blasts. Crying out, I lunge at Ben, throwing all my weight against him as I send him toppling down to the ground. His gun fires twice in the process, hitting a nearby tree, but I quickly grab the weapon from his hand, snapping several of his fingers and then aiming the gun straight at his face. Filled with anger, I don’t even wait to hear what he has to say. I fire three times, and for a moment the flash of energy almost blinds me. With the gun still in my hand, I fall back, staring in horror at the bloodied mess that remains of his head.
Looking down at the gun in my right hand, I realize that I’ve held one of these things before.
“Deckard,” I stammer, turning and scrambling across the wet forest floor. “Deckard!”
As soon as I reach him, I see that a huge, smoking hole has been blasted through one side of his chest. Dropping to my knees, I put a hand on the side of his neck to check for a pulse, but blood is erupting from his wounds, flowing out of his body and spilling onto the forest floor.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell him, as I start to pull his tunic aside to get a better look at the wound. My hands are covered in blood now, but I refuse to accept that I can’t help him. “You’ll be fine, Deckard,” I continue, “I promise. We’ll get you patched up here, and then you can rest, and eventually you’ll be on your feet again.”
Once his tunic is clear, I stare in horror at his bare chest, part of which has been completely burned away.
“Just stay calm!” I hiss, leaning closer to get a better look. There are pieces of twisted bone protruding through his mangled flesh, and more blood is running down onto the ground. “We’ll make you better again,” I tell him. “We’ll make you better, we’ll find a way.”
Grabbing the torn section of tunic, I start ripping it into smaller pieces. My mind is racing and I have no medical experience at all, but at the same time I figure I can buy some time by patching the holes in his chest.
“Stay with me,” I continue, scrunching a section of fabric into a ball and then pressing it against the largest wound. Blood immediately starts soaking through the material, and it’s clear that there’s far too much for me to clean up. Within seconds, more blood has begun to trickle from the edges of the wound, as if it simply refuses to be stopped.
As panic fills my chest, I look around for something else, anything else, I can use to save him.
“It’s going to be fine,” I whisper, with tears running down my face. “I’ll save you, I’ll…”
Spotting some wet leaves nearby, I scramble over and grab them, figuring that maybe I can use them to somehow seal Deckard’s wounds. My hands are trembling, and when I crawl back over to Deckard I don’t even dare look at his face. Instead, I start rolling the leaves between my hands, although after a moment I realize that there’s no way this is going to work. I freeze for a moment, trying to work out what to try next, before finally I feel a kind of weight settle in my chest, and I force myself to face the truth.
Turning, I look at Deckard’s face.
He’s dead.
He probably died as soon as he was shot, several minutes ago now.
He died to save me.
There are still screams in the distance, coming from the town, but for a moment all I can do is sit next to Deckard’s body. I feel completely numb, as if all hope has left my chest, but slowly something else starts to creep to the edge of my senses. Deckard believed in me, and he truly seemed to think that I still had a chance to deal with Harold and get Steadfall back. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he was completely deluded, but I have to take that chance now.
Reaching out, I gently close Deckard’s dead eyes. I feel as if I should say something, but no words come to mind.
“I hope you find your wife now,” I mutter finally, before slowly getting to my feet. There are tears in my eyes, but I don’t have time to mourn right now. I have to—
Suddenly I hear a vast, shuddering groan, as if something huge and metallic is lumbering through the forest. Turning, I look through the trees, and I feel a growing sense that I’m not alone. Everything around me feels somehow unreal, as if I’m in a dream, and the cold night air seems to be shimmering slightly. Still clutching the gun, I step past Deckard’s body and then past Ben’s as well. Still staring at the darkness ahead, I listen to the sound of engines getting closer, and after a moment I realize I can see lights hovering as they advance through the forest. I’ve seen them before, but I don’t remember where. A moment later, trees start to come crashing down, and I realize there are dark figures running this way. All around me, the air is vibrating with a kind of tense anticipation, and I feel as if I should know what I’m doing.
The war.
This is what happened during the war.
“Down!” a voice shouts.
Suddenly several energy blasts come flashing through the air, slamming into trees and missing me by inches. I turn to run, only to find that there are soldiers all around me, already firing back at the enemy. Dropping to my knees, I turn and watch in horror as some kind of vast warship comes crashing through the forest. A moment later, energy cannons are engaged, sending a series of crackling red beams through the air. Unlike the blasters that simply send pulses of energy, these cannons produce a long, continuous beam that flashes over our heads, slicing easily through trees and then changing direction until they cut straight into the bodies of nearby soldiers. They scream as they’re dismembered, and I stare at them for a moment before turning to face the warship and raising my gun. I start firing, even though I know I don’t have a hope in hell of bringing the damn thing down.
“Asher!” a voice shouts, grabbing my arm. “We have to retreat!”
Turning, I’m shocked to see Mads next to me, dressed in full combat gear.
“Asher!” she hisses. “Move! We’ve got orders to drop back to the original insertion point. There’s more cover there, and we can regroup for another push. Right now, we’re out-numbered and we’re losing too many people!”