My son’s caretaker, enjoying a sandwich while she reads her formal Encodex News-Line orders, given by the Council. The Encodex Orders are pretty much a journal giving her formal ways to grow a Caretaker’s relationship with their Adoptole.
I grimace and then wince at the fact. Knowing that the entire Caretaker program is one big hoax to just lure children’s trust and use up their attachment in vain. And then knowing that I am the one that enforced detachable attachment. I cringe and flare my nostrils.
It hurt just thinking about that… Detachable attachment what in all my time and effort could have encouraged me to create something so disheartening.
I stare across the pavement and see Sam walking alongside Thomas. Out of the blue Thomas breaks into a run away from him. I grin at seeing Sam’s surprised reaction… that Thomas, always with his grand exits, typical of him.
I turn and hurry over the roof towards the trap door. I open the hatch and take the ladder down and hasten through the hallway until I reach the door. It is a bad choice to open this… this is where I lost trace of those hideous fiends. They followed me here. I glare back and stare down the empty hallway.
A bang from the door has my gun pointed straight ahead.
Click, click, and click… I hear the doorknob jangle as I tighten the grip of the gun and keep my sight steady.
I take a step back.
The doorknob quivers violently. A Second later each door hinge explodes with white fumes billowing through the door’s crease until the door collapses with a loud bang.
A red laser-beam streaks through the dispersing white smoke. Footsteps come towards me. I slide back, press my back against the wall, and crouch.
The glint from the laser streaks across my face and blinds me momentarily. I remain still.
Appearing from the descending smoke, the black cloak Myrmidon, APR 100 Automatic Rifle pointed ahead of him, took steps towards me. Behind him, a Guardian on all four legs, whining softly as it takes whiffs.
The red eyes glows like fire. Its lips perked showing its ground sharp teeth as it spews a disgusting green mucous. The long pelt of hair on its long, muscular arms erect as it brings out a shriek.
“Steady boy.” The Myrmidon mutters.
The Guardian rams his paw against the ground.
The Myrmidon’s glowing blue eyes connect to mine.
“Attack!” He tells the Guardian.
This is no moment to hesitate and speak.
I aim my handgun, take sight, and pull the trigger twice.
As the Myrmidon collapses, the Guardian raises on hind-legs shoves the body to the side and lunges at me with its sharp, claws erecting from its paws.
I take a couple of steps back while firing. It doesn’t stall him. I drop the pistol, duck a wide swing, and roll behind him. I fall face flat on the ground and crawl towards the rife. I leap, take a hold of the rife, swing around and squeeze the trigger without letting go.
Vapors of heat spiral out of the barrel of the gun. My heart thumps ferociously against my chest. I rise and stare at the two bodies. Their black blood pools over the tile. I can’t bare the sight. I drop the gun and leave immediately.