I felt the blast before I heard it.

It was an unfamiliar sensation, almost as if I was floating on my stomach and my limbs were suspended up into the air. At first, I thought I had fallen off the bed and landed onto the floor. But the momentum was so strong that my body crumpled against the wall, or what was left of it. Something pressed against my right arm, and, with all the heat in the air rising and wrapping around my neck, it was suddenly difficult to breathe. The sound of shattering glass and crumbling plaster was all I could hear, followed by the scent of gasoline and thick smoke--the roar of the wind shutting out everything else.

When I came to, I found myself lying on my back, pinned upside down due to the debris and hunks of metal that bit into my skin. Breathing heavily, I struggled to wedge myself free, the sensation of blood rushing to my face already causing pain to settle on my forehead. After a few tries, I managed to crawl outwards onto the ground, a burning sensation settling in my eyes. The stench of the air that I began to cough immediately. I glanced upwards in bewilderment to see the sky.

There was no sky.

A thick, black canvas hung above, trapping everything in darkness. Frantically, I began to scramble to my feet, only to realize that the majority of my clothing had been burned off and my skin was exposed, with it being a pulsing, burning red that made it itch and peel uncontrollably. Caught off guard that there was no longer a house in front of me, I began to climb over the burning rubble, avoiding the small fires that burned and feasted upon the decaying wood.

"Janice!"

My voice was hoarse. I pushed away the beams of burning firewood, coughing uncontrollably and trying to see properly in the smoke. A deep pit settled in my stomach as I kept digging. The ground was stripped bare--there were no palm trees, no grass, no bushes--only scorched, red earth. I shouted her name again, but there was only an errie silence. After a few moments of wandering over the wreck, I spotted a hand poking out under a pile of bricks. Gritting my teeth, with all of my might, I began to remove them, flinging them aside with my torn fingers. The woman's face was unrecognizable, and her swollen eyelifs slowly opened as I scooped her up in my arms.

I carried her to the battered water pump, helped her sit up and support her head against a burnt tree stump. Something wasn't right with her legs, and most of her hair was gone. Her mouth was partially open as I tried to spoon some of the cold liquid down her throat. Her skin was rapidly falling off in large clumps, and a great amount of blood began to trickle down the side of her mouth. Tearing off a chunk of what was left of my sweatshirt, I wrung the water out of it and began to lightly dab her chest and right cheek. Slowly, I caressed the side of her face, fighting the raging heat rising in my own. She gave me a very faint but peaceful smile, her dark eyes focusing on me, then the black canvas above us, before they stopped moving at all.

For a few moments, I remained kneeling on the ground, whispering her name over again, begging her to stay a bit longer while I was going to get help for her, before hysterically shouting for her not to leave, shaking her shoulders. I pulled her into my arms, slowly rocking her back and forth, breathing heavily. The heat of the flames grew stronger, and as I gazed at the blackened atmosphere around me, I found that I could not see a thing. No such vegetation that had been standing only several hours before existed.

Knowing how unkind the elements were to exposed flesh, I dug a hole into the ground with a rusted shovel I found in the shed, which was mostly still standing. As I flailed the loosened dirt in the air, it did not take me too long to encounter Honey and Pepper's remains. After creating three decent sized holes into the dirt, I lowered them all into the ground, not looking into their faces I began to cover them with soil again, patting the surface with my shaking palms. I gathered several smooth stones and slowly placed them on top, ignoring the wetness that had fallen on my face.

Honda's satchel hung onto what was left of a split tree branch, having landed there due to the impact. Although burnt all around the edges, the contents remained intact, and when I reached out and took it, the material of the bag slightly broke off. I took a long drink from the pump, trying to not look at the graves in front of me. Wiping my mouth with my arm, I began to walk towards the dark abyss, watching the earth shrivel up on itself.

* * * * * * * *

Black rain began to pour from the canvas that hovered above, soaking what little clothing remained on me. But I could hardly feel it touch my skin, and puddles soon formed on the holle ground. From what I could see, all the way through towards the horizon, fires and piles of rubble unfamiliar to my eyes stretched outwards. I fought to make sense of it all--could it be that only one bomb had caused all of this? I had only heard one explosion, not a dozen, unless my ears weren't working properly at the moment.

In the distance, figures moved alongside each other. As I got a better look at them, I saw how a few had their eyes hanging out of their sockets, that although others collapsed and landed onto the soft mud headfirst. I soon realized I was in the midst of the remains of a city that had once stood tall and strong, with scraps of sharp metal and bricks and cobblestone and wood strewn all over the place. But I could not remember its name.

A few moments later, the rain stopped.

* * * * * *

It took a couple of days for the black canvas above to clear and the sun outside to be able to pierce through it. I awoke to it one morning to feel its presence, and, very slowly, I held out my dirty palm to let a white, warm ray settle onto my skin.

I found a busted metal bucket, and, after cleaning it thoroughly all the way, filled it to the brim with the clear, cold water that came from Janice's pump. I refilled it several more times until my hands were raw from making multiple trips to and fro. Carrying it down towards those who huddled in the remains in the smoke and ash that lingered in the air, I saw how although the canvas above became more and more broken apart and shattered, like the fragile shell of an egg, the ocean afar remained black, similar to an inkwell. Their eyes were hollow, sunken into their skulls as they silently sipped the liquid. Some remained where they were. Others left. No one seemed to recognize me or was terrified at the sight of me, and I kept bringing one bucket of water after another, trying to point to the direction where Janice’s home and business once stood. But my voice was gone—I wasn’t sure if it was due to the thick smoke that had settled in the air—and the men and women looked far too weak to walk the two and a half mile distance to the wreckage.

Tried as I might, finding food was becoming more scarce. There was very little vegetation, and I only managed to come up with six yucca roots, a handful of mushrooms, and a couple of berries. I handed these to the civilians who remained sitting, some holding their children, covered in cuts and bruises, others helplessly staring at the fallen structures of once more was their homes.

My bare feet left prints in the wet mud as I continued through what remained of the wilderness, navigating my way under and through the fallen palm and mango trees, waist length grass, broken bamboo patches and rotten logs. Holding out both arms to steady myself on the uneven ground and dried leaves, I spotted an uprooted tree trunk, its curled roofs stretched out towards the sky. Sitting down underneath it, I placed both hands onto the dirt, closing my eyes, trying to shut out what had fallen before my eyes. Janice was dead. Honda was dead.

Rufus and all his men were dead from the impact. William was dead. Mary was dead. My son was dead. Their corpses were burned beyond recognition, charred, buried in the bleeding earth, never to reach its surface again.

I caused them to release the bomb.

Were they planning to drop another one?

My hands were shaking so badly I dug my fingertips partially in the soil in an attempt to calm my breathing some. The soft song of a bird chirping in the air met my ears, and my dirty hair fell over my face. What I had taken for granted for years was gone. I knew that such attempts were worthless, and I needed to get my hands on a rifle for protection. No longer could I depend on my mind. Formula 25B had done its damage for sure. I was now an ordinary man, with ordinary blood. But despite all these lingering doubts in my mind, I knew I had to try, though such efforts would prove to be impossible. I recalled what had happened on my execution day. But such things were coincidences, nothing more.

My fingers curled into the mud.

Nothing more.

A tingling shot through my veins as I slowly exhaled. Blood trickled down from my nose, seeped into the corner of my mouth, its sweet iron taste burning the back of my tongue. The earth was full of water, right down to its burning core. The plants and trees around me, although dead, had a bit of life into it. Animals, soil, rocks. They were nothing but large sacks of water. Fluid.

My eyes gradually opened. The veins on my hands were bulging through my skin, visible through its surface. Such a technique was as foreign to me as it was to the others, and even though I had practiced it on the beach several times, I knew or understood very little of it myself. The sound of squeaking caught my attention, and I noticed a family of mice feasting on a decaying organism that lay in the dirt. I listened to the rhythm of their heartbeat, every bone, every muscle, the way that their tails dragged in the dirt.

Slowly, my hand went out.

Their stifled squeaks came from the leaves as I gained control over their bodies. My loneliness fed the deep rage that suddenly seized me. My fingers bent and curled, and each frightened mouse rose on its hind legs, mouths opened, ears whimpering. As they began to levitate in the air, in a singular line, each rodent turned to face me; their tiny pink paws dangling. In the reflection of one of the puddles nearby, I saw one of my sunken eyes visible under my matted hair.

* * * * * * *

Once I had mastered the mice, I was ready for the men. Before, I could only focus on their bodies for a short time while experiencing great bouts of fatigue and intense pain. Oddly enough, and I was not sure if what they had injected in me at Jova had alleviated such symptoms, but my stamina had increased greatly, and the headaches, while present at times, had begun to diminish.

Rufus' camp, to my great delight, had not relocated in an unknown place as I had anticipated. Although there were signs that they had been greatly impacted by the bomb, the fresh bamboo thatching on the huts implied to me that they had to rebuild much of it. Several piles of wreckage sat along the edge of the rocky hill—as I stared at the camp, I realized that most of the destroyed jungle had taken the brunt impact of when the bomb had been dropped. The burnt, scorched soil beneath them told me all I needed to know. Each man had a cloth wrapped around their nose and mouth to avoid inhaling the radioactive gases that lingered in the dark, orange air. Remembering Janice's words, I kept away, not going too close, though I longed to ask to see my son, day by day, or at least to ask William and a few of the other men about how his condition. But I did not give into such foolish, mindless behavior, only passing to and from, navigating merely around the area. I tried to make up for myself an excuse to be there, but there was none, and I finally left, although it hurt me inside to do so. Fortunately, there were some coconuts lying nearby, and although not the smartest idea due to their exposure in the polluted air, I split them open with rocks and cleaned out the white meat from their shells until I had my fill.

Unable to cope with the deep loneliness that had festered inside of me, I desperately tried to remember what Janice had told me. You can communicate without the use of words. But I had nothing to show for anyone, and with each passing day—there was no light in the sky, only pitch black—my desire to talk to somebody only worsened. In correspondence with my darkening, forlorn mood, slowly, hints of my abilities returning affected my body. I suffered immense aches and pains; frost and snow began to gather at my fingertips. But I was not thrilled to see it. I had managed to handle such isolation in prison, in the laboratory, at the village, but I understood now that I truly was alone, and I had no one to blame for it but myself for my reckless decisions.

Rufus’ fiery words had let a throbbing pain in my side, and I watched him more from afar than I wanted to admit. He appeared more energized, focused, and he and the other men had built a protective wall around the camp, around forty to fifty feet tall, where others would take turns guarding its entrance at night with their weapons raised.

Hunger gnawed at me, although I attempted to satisfy myself with nuts, berries, fish and snails that I caught by a small stream, which was nearly dried up. I kept Honda's satchel close to me, but I was not yet willing to open it and look within its own contents. In the dark, I waited for the Red Mambas to drop another bomb down towards us. Perhaps they had already evacuated the place and camped in a safer location, with better air, clean drinking water, and more food.

I thought about food a lot, and several pains in my stomach tormented me. It had been about four days since I had last eaten. The darkness of the trees hid my bruised body. I blindly stumbled on, not sure where I was some moments, sometimes getting confused and lost in the heat, avoiding those who were sent to bring me back to Jova. The sun rarely shone, and I could see that many others were perishing due to radiation sickness in the air. I continued to apply this technique, first on soldiers who had happened to wander in my path, guiding their arms to allow them to shoot themselves in the head or strangle themselves with their own hands. I would watch them flail around helplessly until they collapsed in the mud. Then, in great desperation to ease my hunger, I would scavenge and devour what little food that they carried with them, rapidly cramming the morsels of dried bread into my mouth.

* * * * * * * *

The stream of water rushing from Janice's pump pooled around my hands and spilled down my dirty sleeves as I greedily gulped it down, its coolness a relief against my dry mouth and broken, peeling skin. It poured down the back of my neck, my soaked hair plastered to my chest and shoulders, mud sloshing across my ankles. Drops of cold liquid fell from the tip of my nose and chin. I continued to splash and wash my face until there was no more nose, mouth, or eyes that could make out the barren, burnt wasteland that sat in front of me, just mere, malleable flesh.

Like electricity, the freezing water sent shivers down my spine. After drinking my fill, I made my way through the broken, charred trees, my temples pulsing. A numb sensation had taken over my body, and no longer could I make out the difference between hot or cold, bitter or sweet. The only thing I could hear was the sound of boots marching against the mud. I wearily turned my head to the side at the sight of three separate platoons making their way eastbound, the red and white flag that blew in the distance from the seven tanks that rolled behind them in the misty fog.

In the midst of my exhaustion, I stared at them in a daze, my wet hair plastered to my face. They didn't take notice of me standing in a thick, broken bamboo patch. What kind of a sight that would have sent goosebumps down my spine, I sensed nothing but heat gathering at the back of my skull. Was Huey Baldwin with them? Or was he with his generals and lieutenants down at the underground caves? Had they finally graduated from the sewer system? I recalled the poor two bastards that had graciously let me out. Now only one of them would most likely be executed by hanging or the firing squad. My eyes fell upon their bulging satchels.

Food. Supplies. Weapons.

No doubt the villagers could use all of this. Guilt washed over me, but I tried not to focus on it as I climbed over a broken pile of rubble and concrete, one that already had grass sprouting upon its surface. My heart skipped a beat. There were at least three to four hundred men in that bunch. What they carried with them alone could keep the village going strong for a month. I only wanted to honor Janice's wish for me to lay low---that I needed to proceed with caution before simply jumping into a situation and making a bigger mess of things. I bit my lower lip and moved forward, crouching through the wreckage that laid in the pathway--where several large tanks rolled over them, crushing their contents into bits.

The dark veins on my hands began to rapidly pulse. Formula 25B had ruined my capacity to concentrate so well as I had before, but I willed my mind into submission. Step by step, the soldiers proceeded forward, their boot laces creating ripples in the dark puddles beneath them. Similar to the rats, I listened to the rhythm of their heartbeat, felt the fluid that had sustained them, given them life and comfort, flowing through their skin. A faint blue light glimmered from my fingertips, but I did not look at it. I kept my eyes focused on their limbs, how their arms and legs moved in sync.

The tanks suddenly stopped.

Deep waves of pressure made their way into my head. I slowly stepped in front of them, breathing heavily, ignoring the dark red blood dripping down to my mouth. The pain that settled in front of me was unimaginable, terrible, but I held on with all of my might, extending my arms outwards, beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

All pairs of twitching eyes met my own. Some faces were frozen in terror, others in surprise and disgust. A few had begun to reach for their guns, but their hands were worthless, barely touching the trigger. Their frozen bodies slightly shook, and, as I slowly curled my fingers, the popping sounds of their flesh and dislocated joints filled the air in unison. The noise resembled firecrackers, and pain began to seep into their twisted, gelatin faces. When I took a step, I tried not to look back.

Struggling to keep up with the pain brewing in my skull, I limped forward, their worthless bodies slightly levitating above as they followe me --through the endless maze of dirt and rubble that remained of a city I never knew. Their muffled grunts of pain were all I could make out, but the crashing waves of the ocean were all I could hear. Although it seemed like an eternity, I made my way down the rocky, steep cliffs. The salt in the air burned my nostrils as I began to wade in the cold water. Without turning around again, I raised my arms, and made sweeping downwards motion towards the ocean's calm surface, the sound of shattering bone increasing.

Rapid splashing filled the air. Sea foam rose and fell, caught in a mixture of struggling arms and legs that were slipping through from my weakening grasp. I was losing focus and concentration, these men were slowly gaining control over their own bodies, beginning to rush towards the shoreline where I stood in order to tear me to pieces. Ignoring the blood pouring down my chin, I gritted my teeth, adjusting to the pressure in my head. The water lapped around my ankles as they struggled against the current, and the pain in my head was so incredibly horrendous that I was on the verge of passing out. I kept my shaking hands outstretched, until the splashing stopped completely and every worthless man's body floated to the surface, as if embracing the sky.

Exhausted and coughing up blood, I sank to my knees, catching my breath. Once my senses had cleared some and the world around me stopped spinning, I went out until the water was up to my chin. Using a pocketknife I took from a nearby floating corpse, I began to saw and cut loose every man's haversack, surprised at how heavy each one seemed to be. The deed itself took me several hours, before I was able to strip free each valuable and carry it up one by one to the shoreline. By the time I finished and crawled up on the wet sand, it had begun to grow dark, and seaweed was tangled in my hair and wrapped around my ankles. I had the sudden inclination to go back and search the tanks that they had been using as well for anything I had missed, but the soreness and searing pain that lingered in my joints and limbs made me reconsider another time.

I placed and sorted out each haversack and weapon into two large piles, coughing uncontrollably, deciding it would be best to organize everything tomorrow. Crouching behind a large boulder, I gazed at the huts from a far, where some small campfires spread outwards, dots of orange white in the distance. Determined to keep my promise to Janice, I pondered how to bring these much needed valuables to the others while remaining hidden. But it hurt too much to think, and the gentle sound of the waves crashing against the rocks made my eyelids slowly droop.

* * * * * * * *

"Goodness."

I awoke with a start at the sound of the voice, roughly bumped my sore head against a stone, and gripping it with both hands, wincing in pain. The sky above was gray, but the air was warm, humid. White sand clung to my arms and legs, and I scrambled away on all fours to the bottom of a cliff, pressing my back against it. When I finally had the courage to peek out again, I could make out a few shadows. Figures. They had dropped their fishing nets in the sand, staring out at the water. A few more others had begun to appear, running towards them from the other side and shouting a few miles away.

”There’s bodies,” one man wheezed. “Hundreds.”

“They’re soldiers.”

I caught a glimpse of William's face. While the men next to him were vomiting in the sand at the smell of decomposing flesh, he stood very still at the shoreline both in shock and in deep thought. The sound of heavy breathing caught my attention, and Rufus's sweaty, red frame came into focus. Relief washed over me at the sight of seeing him---although I knew he was most likely angry at me--I was grateful to see that he was unharmed, that Baldwin had not located the village yet. He was alive and breathing. But that was only a matter of time, and I intended to fullfill the promise I had made to Rufus as well, to keep the area clear of any Red Mambas that stepped foot on it. I only hoped to carry out that promise; that it was not too late to do so.

I truly hoped it wasn't.

"Look," William breathlessly said, not as so much giving a chance to look at the retching men beside him. He weakly pointed with his arm. "There."

Rufus' dark blue eyes widened. As silently as I could, I began to move away, back to the darkness of the trees. I held my head low. I needed to research the area again to check in case a new platoon had resurfaced. I should not be here. I should not be near any people.

"Mercy," he whispered. "That's a whole fleet."

William said nothing. I kept climbing past the rocks, ignoring the pain in my arms and the stinging rising behind the back of my throat. I wanted to run into the camp and get to my child. My boy. My son. He was only a few hundred feet away from here, safe, happy, healthy. Maybe I could take a peek, just a small peek, to only get a look at him. But I fought against the burning temptation to do so. My fingers curled around a small root jutting out from the soil as I hoisted myself up over the top, the wind blowing my hair upwards.

"You don't think it was the bomb, do you?"

Rufus shook his head. “The Red Mamba army isn’t that stupid to let themselves march into the midst of it all.”

"How'd you suppose then they got here?" William asked. His eyes scanned the bloated, rotting corpses. "I don't see the wreckage of a ship anywhere. No metal, no wood, nothing."

Rufus placed his hands on his hips and stared at the pile of sand covered bags and rifles lying on the sand. He silently went over to them, opened up each sack, and immediately dumped its contents onto the ground. After giving a few orders to his men, he clamped a hand onto William's shoulder, who was still blankly staring out at the ocean, a confounded expression on his face. Once I reached the woods, my breathing calmed down a little, though all I wanted to do at the moment was to tear my insides out.

* * * * * * * *

I vigorously raised the pump up and down at Janice’s place, water spilling out onto the ground and forming a large puddle under my bare feet. My reflection was distorted in the rusted metal bucket that I was refilling. Her grave, including Pepper’s and Honey’s was directly behind me, but I didn’t look up. Beads of water dripped from the ends of my hair, and mud clung to the remains of my filthy clothing. My knuckles tightened around the metal pump, and my arms burned like hell, but I didn’t stop.

“You told me a lot of things,” I quietly said. “But I can keep a promise. Really, I can. I’ll keep not just your promise, but Rufus’s as well. I’ll keep every single promise I’ve ever made in my life med I wish that you didn’t have to go, like everyone else did. I wish you hadn’t left me alone. I’m…I’m alone.”

The squeaking noise of the pump was the only sound in the air. The silence that followed only infuriated me. Seized with a fierce rage, I suddenly grabbed the bucket, and with all my might, I chucked forward into the ground. With a loud thud, all the water poured out on the ground, causing it to flood around my ankles. My chest rose and fell.

“Do you hear me?” It came out in a scream. “Why did you have to go, like the others? Why did you decide to leave me behind?” I kicked the bucket to the side with my left foot. “Why didn’t you stay here with me?”

The handle of the bucket loudly rattled.

I weakly dropped to my knees, pressing my palms as deep as I could into the cold brown mud, breathing heavily. It seeped between my fingers, stained the remainder of my sweatshirt sleeve. I closed my eyes for a moment. In the letter she had mentioned that my wife’s grave was located under a maple tree on her property. How could I forget such a detail? I had not been very good at remembering things lately. I couldn’t even tell how many days had passed. All I needed to find a calendula field, place some on her tombstone. Then I realized that there were little to none left. They’d all been burned away, withered to black ash.

The water swirled across the surface. As I slowly opened my eyes, I noticed something pressing against the surface of my palms, under my blackened fingernails. My lips curled into a soft, slow smile at the sight of the little green shoots poking through.

“Look, Honda,” I whispered. “The grass is growing back.”

* * * * * * * *

The destroyed jungle gradually became more populated with more arriving troops. I smeared myself with mud to throw off the scent of their dogs that sniffed the air and pawed at the ground. I waded through the thick swamps, swatting away at flies that buzzed at my head, the green sludge up to my chin.

Gradually, little by little, like regaining feeling in a broken arm, I found that I was able to control water--to form spheres and freeze small surfaces. But while my abilities were slowly coming back, I knew that there was only so long I could last without food or water. I ate carageen and smashed acres of coconuts to keep my stomach full, although the threat of another bomb occurring settled at the back of my mind. But every handful of soldiers setting camp or hacking their way through the dense vegetation--I used the one technique that I had best perfected. And every other morning, more bodies littered the ocean's surface. For a week straight, I led hundreds and hundreds of men to the ocean. Skeletons had washed up on the shoreline, where packs of wolves feasted on the remains at night.

The men's bodies were my puppet strings--I enforced my own will over them. One wretched soul could been taking a piss or smoking in the bush, and I seized control over his limbs and his blood, twisting and pulling them apart with delight. In a contorted dance, with the sway of my fingers, I would watch his struggle unfold. Once his neck was broken and he had suffocated, I would help myself to any victuals he had stored up. On occassion, I would find a large rabbit that he was cooking over a large fireplace, devouring it. He had a very nice rifle as well and plenty of ammunition, which I made sure to take with me.

Machine gun fire echoed through the palm trees. I slept with one eye open. I tried not to look at myself in the reflection of the puddle--I only wanted to remain focus. To keep any Red Mamba away from the coral reefs, from the village, from my son. Orange explosions shook the earth; I had to duck for cover as stones and clumps of soil rained down upon me. My head was killing me--all I really wanted to do was get a good night's rest. Just one. I would've paid a million rupees for that, if I had the money to do so.

And suddenly, the soldiers stopped appearing.

* * * * * *

On a rainy, stormy day, when the ocean was raging and calling, I ran as fast as I could through the dense vegetation. Thunder boomed. Lightning forked through the sky, and I pushed several branches and vines out of my face, tripping in the downpour several times. Rufus was shouting something to his men--they wore helmets and uniforms, with blue fabric tied over their arms and their weapons loaded. I came to a stop at the end of the cliff, struggling to catch my breath, standing in the downpour. They were entering an underground cave--their torches lit in the dark.

Panic washed over me. I began to ponder at who was at the village to defend it while they were gone. Instantly, I understood where the others were heading towards. Snapping out of my trance, I began to follow. A gunshot whizzed through the air, something struck me in the shoulder. I landed on the ground with a grunt, and, cursing under my breath, began to scoot backwards against a rock for cover as more bullet holes lined the dirt. Loading my own rifle, I began to focus on my aim, squinting my to get a clear shot. Blood ran down my shoulder and stained my sleeve as I remained still, huddled over, shivering in the downpour. With a frustrated sigh, I bit back the pain and let my eyes fall over the vast trees in the distance.

Where are you?

My finger curled around the trigger. My visibility was worsening due to how much water was coming down. After scanning the trees for a moment, I spied a camaflouged figure, huddled in the branches of a tree, leaves and branches sticking from the netted helmet. I glanced down at the beach again before regaining my focus. Rufus and the others had disappeared in the dark cave--their torches out of sight. Biting my lower lip, I fired two shots. The first one was unsuccessful, the second one got the assailant in the head--a spurt of dark red blood splayed outwards before his body went tumbling down the tree branch he was perched on and landed in a cluster of bushes.

Breathing heavily, and shaken up by how close he had had gotten me, I finally gathered enough courage and peered out from the rock again. Only I was not prepared for the sight that met my eyes.

Huey Baldwin stood on the opposite side of the coral reefs, in front an army of soldiers that had formed behind him amongst the burning trees. He wore a soldier's uniform, but it was rumpled and filthy, with the first three buttons missing, revealing his pale, white chest. His helmet was on the ground, covered in mud, and his blonde hair, which was normally neatly combed back, wildly blew in the raging wind. In his arms, positioned correctly, was an AK-47 assault rifle, the buttstock positioned directly under his right arm. Delicately, he gripped the magazine with his fingers and used the paddle to push his fingers forward, his stance as still as a marble statue in the pouring rain. He did not flinch at the sound of thunder echoing in the sky. He stared at the cave with a cold expression.

I did not know what it was that made me believe that he was not himself. He was a bit unsteady on his feet, and his thin chest rapidly rose and fell. Something about him, from what I could tell, in all the times I had seen him, seemed to have slipped. Normally, he looked confident, relaxed, but a lump rose in my throat as he aimed the gun where I had been standing only moments ago.

Fire was visible in his dark blue eyes.