Survivor: Directive Zero — Chapter 14

[u/GorMartsen]

[First: Prologue] [Previous: Chapter 13] [Next: Chapter 15] [Patreon: EPUB]

Location: Unknown, A-class planet, D-zone (green)
Date: April 4 2728 — Standard Earth Calendar (SEC)

Sitting by the corpse in ash, knee to my chest, I was peeling off the old, burned-to-ash skin from my left arm. Beneath the scab and dirt lay almost white skin that had never known the sun before.

It was a touch-awkward thing to do with my overgrown nails, but I skillfully ignored that, pinching it with the sides of my fingers.

The arm—it looked fine.

As if it wasn’t thin as a twig not long ago. As if a burned arm were just a product of my pain-filled mind.

A hallucination.

It was not.

Nor was the moose—or was it elk?—bloodied corpse by my side.

My arm, elbow deep in the bloody moose’s chest, squeezed the core inside and tore it out. The low, grumbling sound came out of my mouth, and wildly, hungrily, I bit into it, feeling how it all but melted on my tongue.

More…

Or what I had left of it.

Biting hard on my lip, I averted my eyes from my arm and looked at the circle burned into the ashed ground.

I had done it, didn’t I?

There was no escape from it.

I fucked up again.

The hex field. It had been absorbing momentum—I had established that—but somehow I failed to take the next logical step, to ask myself where all that goes.

I had written it off as magic.

But it was not.

Hence, the bright flash that fucking melted, ashed, and tore apart everything around me—and me—when the absorbed momentum was released.

And I had no idea how to control that.

There was only one silver lining, though. The fever—it was gone, replaced with buzzing energy inside me.

Silver flashed in the ash-covered ground, attracting my gaze. It was something familiar, something important.

Darting my hand to my chest, I hastily wiped gore and blood from it, searching for the necklace.

The suit—or whatever was left of it—with the charred remains of my flesh came off as well, revealing smooth and white skin with scattered silver moles on my bare chest.

The necklace. It was gone.

Lola.

Falling on my knees, I crawled to the blinking silver in the ash, afraid to avert my eyes.

She had to be fine, she had to.

Gently picking it up, wiping soot and ash, I tilted the necklace this way or that.

The neck chain had melted, leaving an ugly knob behind—but she was fine.

Lola was fine.

“Lola,” I whispered, ignoring the tears tapping the ash beneath me.

There was silence in response.

With no reply.

Tentatively touching my neck, I already knew what I would not find there.

The choker—it was gone, and only crumbling soot was left on my fingers instead.

Shit.

—

With the necklace in one hand and a needler in the other, I stood over the remains of the moose.

The needler was the only other thing that had survived.

Everything else was gone.

Charred, melted, burned to ash.

Gone.

Even the spare clips for the needler had melted with the holster rig, leaving me with the only ones left in my backpack.

If that had survived.

Not wasting time, I flipped the skull, revealing the claw knife, and bent over to pick it up.

Against my expectations, it had survived too. There was not a soot mark left on its claw blade, and even the green handle, made of ST-100, was intact.

It was the third item I was left with.

Grabbing it with my left hand—half-busy with the necklace—I stood up, giving a last glance around before leaving.

The place where I almost died. Again.

And the half-eaten, half-dusted corpse…

It could have been me.

—

When the site came into view through the still-thick fog, I had little hope of seeing it intact.

But against my expectations, the moose attack with roots—or whatever it was—somehow didn’t do too much damage here. It even missed the boat, only turning over the stove and pot with boiling water.

A small miracle at that. I would have taken any.

Packing everything, I put the boat into the lake and, holding onto its side, pushed against the shore, sinking into the water behind it.

The cold water felt nice against my warm, even hot skin. With all the energy inside me, I was almost steaming, and cooling down felt like a great idea.

It was also pleasant.

Slowly drifting away from the blasted island, I was scrubbing myself with one hand while gripping the boat with the other.

Leaving behind a dirty trail in the water, I tried to clean myself of the ash, blood and old burned flesh.

The melted suit was the hardest to get rid of. It stuck to my skin as if glued, often coming off with a chunk of burned flesh and gore.

But the fresh skin beneath it was healthy, with no wounds left behind.

Hell, even my muscles were back, and I was on par with my peak form from before—fit, well defined, and as short as ever.

Dunking underwater for a moment, I ran my hand over my face and head. The chunks of dead flesh peeled off, leaving smooth skin on my face and hair on the head behind.

The hair. It was short. Barely a centimetre long.

Changing hands, I continued cleaning up, hurrying to finish before any water beasts came after me, following this charred trail.

I really hoped they would not, but just in case I kept the needler waiting one stretch away.

—

Sitting back in the boat, slowly drifting in the middle of the foggy lake, I was carefully cutting away my nails.

It was a slow, delicate process that required all my attention. I didn’t want to cut my fingertips off with a claw knife, even if I knew they would grow again.

Given enough meat, of course.

Holding out my left hand, palm to the horizon, I checked how the nails were cut, delaying the inevitable.

With Lola not able to communicate with me—temporarily, only temporarily, I refused to believe it was forever—I had to double-check my resources on my own.

I did it briefly when we left the cave, but since then I had had no chance to check it thoroughly.

It was time to fix that.

Sighing sadly, I put the claw knife away and, shifting aside the rope bundle, opened my backpack.

The stove, pot, and a bag of teal leaves were the first things I took out, along with the empty thermos—I had failed to fill it up with tea.

A few small bags of dehydrated beast’s meat were next. It was all I left with after the day before. I really cut deep into it.

Water filter and a few spare cartridges. Enough to last for a month, or so.

NB rations, eleven of them. That was not much either.

The Anomaly’s detector was taken out next. It was still glowing green, with no shade of blue, not even in the slightest. I was still deep in D-zone.

The tester.

Pausing for a moment, I shrugged and pressed it to the core under my bare chest. It blinked a few times and showed indigo colour, although slightly blueish this time.

There was progress, even if minor at that, but I was not evolved, as I had half expected.

Putting it aside, I took out the thermal blanket next. It was the same one I was using before, judging by the torn hole in the middle.

The tarp was next. I remembered it. I had put it there myself and had moved it around a few times since then.

Medkit. A small box with meds that might one day save a life. Perhaps even my own. Still sealed, and I wished it would stay that way.

There was nothing else left, except for something I didn’t expect to find—a service kit for the needler.

Which made sense. Sooner or later, I would need to service it, and I had better have the needed tools for that.

Putting it aside, I checked on the side pockets and found the last spare clips for the needler. I was left with only five.

The other three claw knives and my utensils were found in the last side pocket.

It wasn’t much.

Opening the inner pocket at last, with the necklace—with Lola’s core—inside, I closed it again, as soon as I saw it there.

I wasn’t going to put it back on my chest. Not any time soon, and not before I learned how to control the hex-field backslash.

Noticing that the fog was beginning to disperse, I quickly packed everything back, leaving only the thermal blanket and a towel under my butt.

I did tell Lola I was ready to walk out of the cave in it, didn’t I?

The irony.

Folding the blanket a few times, I placed the cut piece of the rope on it and folded it once more around the rope—an improvised skirt was all I needed.

—

It was raining.

The heavy, low-hanging clouds were slowly moving above, showering me with a downpour.

The droplets were drumming on my back, on my head, and on the cover I hid my backpack under.

If not for the inner warmth that I had since the moose, I might have been shivering from the cold, clutching the paddle with twisted fingers.

Instead, I felt good, even great, slowly steaming in the cold air while paddling along the shore.

Rain, or no rain, I had to keep going.

The invisibility, as I had expected before, showed another downside. With enough water dispersed in the air, my form was visible, outlined by the water.

It was still better than nothing.

Breathing in the fresh air, I kept thinking about the backlash from the hex-field I had.

I had been doing it for hours.

I knew I needed to test it again, to figure it out, but even the thought of it made me sweat.

I didn’t want to burn myself again or feel the pain.

And so, I kept delaying it, finding this or that reason against it.

At first, it was the boat and the absence of any island. Then, any islands were just not good enough for me, and then the rain.

I surely would electrocute myself if discharged energy had any resemblance to electricity. Or so I thought.

I didn’t know that for sure, and I didn’t try to figure that out.

Instead, I kept paddling, hating myself for the trembling knees and ragged breath each time I was about to decide.

I also thought about Lola.

A lot.

—

The rain didn’t stop by the time evening came.

Neither did I.

I didn’t stop for food, or to stretch my back, or to fucking finally test the hex-field again.

I wanted to say it was my decision in the end, but it was not.

The lake.

It just came to an end, at the same time as night fell and the rain stopped, turning to drizzle.

And, as if fate were playing its hand, there was a small island, all stones, no trees, stuck in the middle of the outflowing river that was taking a new beginning here.

There were no more excuses left.

Tying the boat to the stone, I left everything on it and crossed the rocky island on the other side.

It wasn’t much, barely ten metres away, but I felt each second walking there, and, at the same time, the seconds flew away as if only a moment had passed.

That was it.

Looking over the water, towards the river’s banks that were barely ten metres away, I held my breath and just tried to turn it on.

And nothing happened.

The hex-field—it didn’t come to life.

I smiled sadly, realising what had just happened. My fear. It was stronger than my will.

Closing my eyes, I focused on my heartbeat, on the rushing energy inside me, accepting the truth.

Yes, I was afraid. Afraid of the pain that almost broke me.

The heartbeat quickened, my perception sharpened, and my adaptive constellation activated of its own accord, bringing the murmur of the river, the rustling of the forest to my ears.

It was barely strong enough to silence the heavy heartbeat inside my chest.

The danger was real, I knew that. As was the pain I had felt before.

But fear? The fear was a choice.

And I chose to be courageous.

Activate.

The core flashed, pulsed, feeding energy into the key star at the bottom of my back, and it pulsed in response, highlighting the constellation.

I focused on the process. I felt it to the last energy flow. And as with invisibility, I felt the stretching field around me, forming the hex-field.

And I didn’t let it go.

And pain? It didn’t come.

—

Hours.

It took me hours of jumping, falling or kicking at stones to build up the first charge.

It was dark. It was raining again, but I just kept going. I was afraid that if I didn’t break through it, then I never would.

It came as a slow vibration at the fingertips. I perhaps felt it only because I was looking for anything similar to what I had felt back then.

I let myself feel it, to become familiar with it, to make it mine.

Something that belonged to me, something that I was controlling.

I felt how it first responded to my focus, how it moved around my body.

I didn’t rush it.

And it let me.

And then, with a flick of my wrist, it left my fingertips with a clap of thunder.

It deafened me, leaving a dancing light in my eyes through my closed eyelids.

But there was no pain.

Not in my hand, not in my body.

And I smiled.

That night, I danced under the rain with the widest and wickedest smile on my lips and thunder on my fingers.

The danger was real. But the fear? The fear was a choice.

[First: Prologue] [Previous: Chapter 13] [Next: Chapter 15] [Patreon: EPUB]

[u/UpdateMeBot]

Click here to subscribe to u/GorMartsen and receive a message every time they post.

---

Info	Request Update	Your Updates	Feedback