3) Becoming Human
So many thoughts, so many emotions. When my Ghost woke me from whatever plane of existence I was on, there were floods of images, pleasure, pain, loss, elation. There were the sensations of heat and cold - the wind on my face carrying a strange, acrid smell as I looked at the burned out and rusted hulks of metal around me. Bones and dust, decay and life - plant and animal - it was all so confusing for a moment.
And then there was Ghost, shouting at me to move and to hurry into a nearby building for cover. I heeded him, hesitating for a moment, like a child unsure of his parent's command. Why did I need to run? Why that building? Why did I need a weapon? Why did this all come so naturally? Though Ghost filled me in later on a thousand years of history, in that moment, I was very confused. Lucky for me, the confusion wasn't paralyzing.
Despite the dilapidated condition of the facility, the building was still warmer than the outdoor; unfortunately, I was not the only creature that had taken shelter in the old place. Some Fallen had taken up residency before I had arrived - members of the same group of beings that I was trying to avoid. Ghost led me round hallway and up stairs and right into a Dreg. I didn't know what to do, but something inside reacted - I reached out and slashed into the creatures upper chest with a blade I didn't know I had. The Dreg was as surprised as I and stood stunned, it's upper left arm nearly severed off. With a pair of fluid, purposeful steps, I stepped under the arm while grasping it at the wrist. I ripped the disabled limb off with a terrible crunching sound as I circled behind the Dreg and used the limb to asphyxiate the alien. It was terrible. It was frightening. It was exhilarating.
I survived that first contact with a member of a species that wouldn't hesitate to kill me if it could. I had to wait a moment for everything to register. The suddenness of my own reaction, the violence of it, was a surprise. It took a moment, and a bit of Ghost's prodding, for me to return to the present and the problems of the present. "This is what I was made for; brought back for." I muttered.
"No time for existential crises right now, Teirnan. We have to get a real weapon."
"Is that my name?"
Somehow I could see the look Ghost was giving me even though he doesn't really have a face, just that one bright eye-light. "Not now."
"What about these?" I had picked up the long blades that the Dreg had on his belt. "They feel good."
"Keep them - we may have a use for them later. But we need something with a bit more range if you are going to survive. You are about sixty percent slower right now." Ghost was adamant.
"Slower than what?" I was back in my little-kid mind again.
"Slower than you need to be. Now up those stairs and across that catwalk." Ghost was evasive and persistent.
"Slave-driver. I've only been alive fifteen minutes." I was petulant, but still following instructions. The fight had left me winded, but somehow I was still able to jump the last couple steps and sprint the catwalk. The aged metal tubes of the catwalk,painted with a long-faded and long-flaking yellow paint rang softly as it shook from my steps.
"Seventeen minutes - and I am trying to keep us alive." Ghost turned this way and that - he had that furrowed-brow expression that I have come to delight in over the years. "It's getting darker as we go, and not all of this is natural dark. We need to find that gun. It is here, close."
Gun. That word sounded good to me - it sounded like something that would fit with me - a tool and a friend. I was excited - I had no idea why, but all sorts of thoughts stirred in my imagination. Knives, swords, blades - they were elegant and personal like their names. But gun; that was deadly efficiency; one word, three letters, one syllable and one purpose - to win!
A turn and another platform later and I had found the object of my quest. I lifted my new tool as Ghost scanned it and performed what maintenance he could. It was worn from use, rough from shallow pitting in the metal, corroded in some spots. But it was functional. To me, it was beautiful. Ghost looked at me as I held it, stroking the charging handle and checking the magazine release.
"You are a hunter if I have ever seen one." he sounded like he was smirking.
"Yes, a hunter, and this is how I will hunt.." I held up my rifle, re-inserted the magazine, and let the bolt drop.
Ghost sighed, "Let's go, little hunter. We have much to do if I am going to get you out of here and to the city before the night falls."
TS