Page 24 of Creed
Something wasn’t right. The longer I looked at his face, the more it seemed off. There weren’t as many lines around his eyes as there should be, making him seem younger than he actually was, like a combination of his current self and the young man that I’d known before joining the service. The exact color of his hair shifted between different shades of brown.
He didn’t look like himself, but rather like an image created by an artist from memory.
A moment of clarity struck me, and I realized I was dreaming. I reached for the tent flap, intending to flee, but the moment I touched the canvas, the material changed right under my hand. Instead of canvas, I was now gripping onto a stone wall, gritty and damp like a basement that hadn’t been cleaned in decades.
Something struck me hard across the face, knocking me to the floor.
This couldn’t be a dream.
It felt too real.
With my head still spinning from the blow, I pushed myself off the floor. The taste of dust and copper coated my tongue. I was grinning, and I could feel my own blood staining my teeth. I probably looked deranged.
Good.
Whoever had dared to strike me should be afraid.
I was ready to fight back, to make my enemy regret ever challenging me, but when I looked up, I found myself facing a nightmare.
“No,” I gasped as I took in the new scene around me. “No, this can’t be.”
I’d seen this room before. It had been my prison once.
No, it was my prisonright now.
Several other people were chained to the walls, either unconscious or dead, I couldn’t tell.
I recognized them. I’d known these faces for years. Magnus and Brody were there, battered and bloody. Even Kayden hung on the wall. He was so still he didn’t seem to be breathing.
Clutching my head, I started to hyperventilate.
No, this wasn’t right. There was no reason for them to be here, together.
In this room.
When I looked again, the people hanging on the wall had changed. Now they were fallen soldiers that I’d served with. People I’d been in charge of.
People I’d failed.
Something hard and cold pressed against my temple. Turning away from the sight of my unconscious comrades, I looked up into the eyes of my captor. They were jabbering away in a language I didn’t know, and an insane bubble of laughter welled up in my throat.
Talking to me now was pointless. They’d already killed my translator. If they wanted to negotiate, they should have started with that.
Now we were all fucked.
The more questions they shouted at me that I couldn’t answer, the angrier they got. I recognized the look in my captor’s eyes.
Desperation.
Resignation.
Insanity.
They were beyond reason. Even if we spoke the same language, I wouldn’t be able to negotiate with them.
Staring down the barrel of my captor’s gun, I was certain that I was about to die.
A sudden bang echoed in my ears. I flinched, certain that they’d pulled the trigger.
