The Dust Settles
Adrenaline can do a lot for the human body.
Silence. Stillness. For a moment, that’s all there was.
The air smelt like a mixture of smoke, sweat and death. Heavy on the death. The world trapped in a haze of grey. A swirling of gritty clouds hung low, settling with the silence. It was the sort that clung to skin and claw its way down to the depths of the lungs. Suffocating, choking—
And it smelt like death.
The chaos had fizzled away. Snuffed out abruptly like a lit wick pressed between two fingers. It was over, and yet no one dared to move or speak. Like everyone feared that even the slightest movement or heavy exhale would pull them right back to the belly of cataclysm. Right back to the end of all things. Bodies, alive and dead, remained there still and trapped within the silence. Shellshocked.
And for that brief moment, it was like the world had spun to a dizzying stop, and time no longer existed.
Adrenaline can do a lot for the human body.
Blood soaked through stone, seeping to the marrow of the earth, painting streaks of red that could never be scrubbed away. Fresh and wet splatters spilled out into the dry until no one could tell whose was whose.
Tap, tap, tap— it dripped rhythmically, almost delicately, a dark crimson pool that seemed endless. Caitlyn sat on her knees, though she wasn’t sure how she got there, with her head slumped forward and her cheek wet.
It dripped. Slowly. Blood and sweat and tears. But she couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t feel anything. Her body barely hers, her spirit hanging on by a tether.
She ran her tongue along her lips, barely feeling the rigidity of the dry, chapped skin, and she swallowed. “It’s over?” she asked, but she didn’t know who she was asking it to.
And just like that, the moment thawed. The world restarted. Noise, screaming, shouts, footsteps. Caitlyn fell forward, her face colliding with the bloodied stone before her.
Adrenaline could do a lot for the human body, and it had done a lot for Caitlyn.
It sustained her; kept her going despite the knife in her gut. It kept her body moving— living, breathing, fighting, surviving. Even as she heard her ribs crack, and her knee cave in. Even as the tip of the spear grew closer and closer until finally it sliced through. It kept her moving and it kept her aware. The pain and the panic suppressed as blood scrambled its way through her veins, hot and quick. It made her do impossible things. Beat impossible odds. Live through the unliveable.
Caitlyn’s hand twitched, her mind numbly trying to propel her limbs back to ordinary function. She needed to sit up, she needed to think, she needed to do something. But it was all a futile effort. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think—
“Don’t move, don’t move,” a familiar voice drifted to her ears, the sound muffled and just a bit too far away, “Just stay with me Caitlyn— we need a medic!”
Her body was lifted, ever so gently, and laid onto her back. She forced open her eye, but her vision just a blur of colours and shapes, streaks of light and dark. Everything was too close and too far away all at the same time. There was a face, looking down at hers— was it Mel? She couldn’t tell, but the flashes of gold told her it was.
Her lips were moving, her head lifting up, turning left to right to left and every now and then back down to Cait. She couldn’t hear what she was saying. All she could hear was a gentle hum that reverberated throughout her skull. A contents gush, like when you’ve been hung upside for too long and you sit up too fast.
Mel held her, she was sure. But she couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t feel anything. And after all that had happened, she hoped that was for the best.
The dark haze finally shifted, and the sky started to clear. A shred of blue escaped through the fog parting, twisting with the light. The white, blinding light.
Adrenaline can do a lot for the human body—
Her throat was hoarse as her vision darkened at the edges. Seconds were slipping from her grip as her spirit was prying itself free. She opened her mouth and her words escaped it barely above a whisper, “Tell Vi that I—”
—but once it’s gone, you’re as good as dead.
***
Vi didn’t know how long she’d been lying there. Days could have passed, years even, and she doubted she’d have even felt them. Time no longer felt tangible, nothing did. The world could slip away to darkness and she wouldn’t know. She wouldn’t care too.
Not anymore.
She had her. She had her. But then she just—
Vi screamed. Because what else was there to do? Her voice vibrated off the walls, harsh and piercing, as it worked its way up to the sky before plummeting back down. Just a hollow echo, three pathetic waves. Yet as they returned, they hit hard. Each a painful jab that knocked the air out from within her. Her chest ached, her heart twisting and twisting, as she gasped for air.
Silence filled the space. Just another reminder that she was alone. That she’d failed. That she couldn’t—
She screamed again. Her cheeks wet with tears, and hot to touch, like lava ran out from her eyes downward. Her body rattled with sobs so guttural she felt her rib bones ache in their marrow.
She just lay there. Screaming, gasping, sobbing. And she did so until her throat turned molten and her head throbbed. Until her lungs shrivelled in her chest and her voice withered to nothing but a whisper.
She screamed until she couldn’t. Until all she was left with were empty sobs and dry tears. Her mind no longer a cohesive stream of thoughts but rather a loud mess. An endless cycle of would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.
And as the dregs of her last shout echoed downward, she finally let the silence take hold. She let herself succumb to its weight; its emptiness.
What was there now? What hadn’t she lost? What hadn’t she failed to save?
Her fault. Her fault. Her—
A hand grazed her shoulder, but she’d barely even registered it until she felt fingers grip her arm and pull her up.
“Vi?” A voice asked, and though she knew it came from right beside her it sounded miles away. She didn’t look over, her eyes trained forward completely out of focus. Seeing but not retaining a damn thing. Her body felt heavy, and not her own. If it weren’t for the vice grip clinging to her arm, she doubted she’d still be sat upright.
Her fault. Her fault.
Another hand placed itself on her shoulder, shaking her gently, “Vi? Hey Vi?”
The shaking moved from gentle to desperate. And slowly, the voice came closer; clearer. Ekko. It was Ekko.
“We need to get out of here,” he said, “Where’s—”
He didn’t finish his question. But the aching silence that followed seemed answer enough.
“I couldn’t—”
Vi didn’t finish her sentence either. She didn’t need to. Ekko just tightened his grip. They sat there, like that, stewing in the weight of it all. The pain, the loss, the grief. Until finally, Ekko drew in a sharp breath, before pushing it out, quick, with a heavy sigh.
“We need to get out of here,” he said again, his voice tight and ragged, and yet his face composed. Almost completely neutral save for the tension he held in his jaw, and the glass sheen in his eyes. His hand remained on Vi’s arm, “We’re not done yet. Everything is still— well fucked.”
He stood, tugging her up. She didn’t move.
“C’mon, that arm needs checking,” he said, his voice teetering between intense care and frustrated impatience, “C’mon.”
“I couldn’t—”
It hurt to talk. It hurt to think. It hurt to do anything.
Ekko just tugged her again, “I know, but we need to leave, you need a medic, we both do,” he said, “And I’m sure your girl is looking for you.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
Your girl. Your girl.
Cait.
She closed her eyes, her body pleading for her to remain there, to melt away into the floor. Into the nothing. But she knew she couldn’t. No matter how tight the grief held her, how deep its claws had sunk through her flesh. She had to get up. She had to move.
Caitlyn. She had to find Caitlyn.
She swallowed thickly, and with a shaky nod, she allowed Ekko to pull her up.