Bab 6: SURVIVOR'S DAWN
Some time later, the sharp clink of a bottle shattered the silence, followed by the sound of something trudging quickly over broken glass and pieces. The noise snapped open the young Kaiju's eyes, waking him from his restless sleep. He heard the rush of steel-capped boots ascending the stairs and racing down the corridor, worn by a squad of black-clad mercenaries. As they filed down the hallway, they hefted a battering ram and swung it forward, splintering the door into a shower of wooden fragments. But the boy Kaiju had heard their coming, his makeshift alarm system of broken glass alerting him to the approaching threat.
Standing up quickly on the rooftop he'd been sleeping on, he clapped his hands over his face in shock and utter disbelief, feeling the blood run cold from his person as he looked around. Be calm! Be calm! Were the words that echoed in his head. Think quick about how to get out of this! He did not think he would be made out this way. C'mon, think!
He scrambled around, the abruptness of a noise almost made him leap. He could hear rustling on the other side of the door now, someone preparing to open it.
Quickly, the Kaiju shoved a platform against it, hoping it would hold long enough for him to find an alternate route at escape. Long-term plans were out of the question; with the Foundation's global reach, true escape was a fantasy. He was condemned to a life on the run, a thought too overwhelming to process, especially with the pounding of fists on the door.
Pressing his trembling hands to his temples, he struggled to calm his frantic thoughts. None of this was his fault, he told himself, at least not in his mind.
In another timeline, his efforts at escape would have been in vain. The black-clad operatives would have burst through the door, tackling him to the ground before he could react. The weight of another body would have pinned him, and a sharp sting at his neck would have quickly sedated him, putting him back to sleep as the agents executed their strict containment procedures.
But in this reality, he was determined to evade them. Feeling his heart thumping against his ribs, he must hide before they spot him, and so he does, escaping as fast as he could, descending a fire escape ladder until he reached the street below and tucked himself away in the shadows. He watched and waited, trying to calm his racing heart. The sight of their weapons did little to ease his nerves.
"I thought I saw activity," one of the mercenaries said as they breached the entrance. The barricade he'd set up toppled easily under their force. The squad, clad in full black combat gear, rushed in. "I must be jumping at shadows. Contact command! We need to clarify the situation immediately," barked the voice of their leader.
What situation? Could they mean me? Am I the situation? The Kaiju wondered as he hid, his mind spinning with fear and uncertainty.
At that moment, the Kaiju couldn't fathom why the Foundation had dispatched a hit squad after him. The whole situation was astounding, striking him with an even greater fear. Even from a distance, the gravity of the threat was palpable.
The reason soon became evident.
Someone must have told on him. Yes, that had to be it. Indeed. Someone must have seen him and reported him to the Foundation. How else would they have found him? The boy Kaiju had no reason to believe the Foundation would be so desperate to eliminate him, but it was clear that being a target of their containment efforts had marked him. Fortunately, he had managed to evade the officers hunting him.
Fear gripped him like iron claws, refusing to let go. In a single night, he had witnessed the relentless persistence of the Foundation. A stark reminder he needed to keep moving, never staying in one place for far too long to avoid being seen by them, caught, or worse. Even when he found secluded spots to rest, he only stayed few nights before moving on quickly, avoiding suspicion, the gazes and prying eyes of others as best he could, never minding them, and all the while listening for any whispered secrets he can catch from the shadows. More so relating to the Foundation—facts, rumors, hearsay—it didn't matter. They never saw the creature sharing the city with them.
He glanced down at a puddle on the gravel path, the pale moonlight barely revealing his ghostly reflection. Five years ago, he had stood before a similar water source. He could not remember. What he could garner though was that things had been different then. Better. There hadn't been any fear or this nearly overwhelming exhaustion he had now with him. He'd been happy, cheerful and confident, and now…
He looked away from the puddle in frustration at the memories creeping it's way into his head. Now, he stood, a hollowed-out shell of the boy he used to be. Memories of the past crept into his mind, frustrating him. Why am I remembering that now? Damn it! That had been then. This is now. This is my reality. He mused, biting his lip until it bled, the metallic taste grounding him in the harsh reality of his present.
He pulled up his hoodie and undershirt, revealing a small scar on his side, a jagged reminder of a gunshot wound inflicted by the Foundation. A poke at it caused him to flinch in agony. Though it had healed, the pain still lingered, especially on cold, quiet nights such as this. With a sigh, he lowered his shirt.
Walking through the city streets, all he wanted truly was to find somewhere he could be left alone, a place of worth, where he could lay his head easy and not worry about a thing. Finally, mercifully, he found a hidden nook with a small fire he had made for warmth. He grabbed two plastic cans and threw them onto the fire, piling kindling high and blowing steadily into the embers. They glow and swell in size. No taking yet. He blows again for longer and again, he feels his head starting to swim.
A crackle.
A lick of flame. It's taken.
The timing seemed almost as calculated as it began to rain right after he finished. Panting bit by bit, he turned to take in his surroundings. There's graffiti on the wall. Hm, this must be a public spot, he mumbled to no one in particular. If anyone disturbed him, he knew what he had to do. A brick lay by his foot—just in case of the necessary.
Necessary… He buried his head in his hands, releasing a deep, sullen breath. How had he gotten here? To this point...? The Kaiju was happy or atleast, as content as he could be about most things in his life, not that he had much of a choice in the matter, he believed. It was a lonely existence, never letting anyone see him truly as he were. The creature's life was ruled by fear and isolation, the terror that one day, he would be spotted by Foundation personnel and he would be unable to control what he did next. He wasn't sure if the Foundation was targeting the homes he stopped at or if it was a systematic effort to lure him out of hiding and capture him finally. He documented his thoughts in a half-burned notebook he had found while on the run.
Finding food was his biggest challenge. He had clambered out of his twelfth bin of the day, scavenging the several dumpsters and garbage for remaining food that was still edible and savouring the taste of the little scraps he'd find with no idea how long it would be before he ate again. Or rather, before he found food again. Dumpster diving was never his favorite activity, but it was a necessity for survival. Among the trash, he found the skeletal remains of a small animal. The smell of death was overwhelming as he held the decayed bones in his hands. He climbed down carefully, dejected. Poor animal was only looking to feed but had gotten caught up and buried in all this trash, leaving no room to breathe. It'd died a dog's death- Or in this case most appropriately- a rats'. Here was a proper burial...! What remained of the poor animal, the Kaiju buried under loose earth and with his hands put together, prayed a silent prayer to whatever god who cared to listen.
Sustenance, was the first thought at his new finding. Atlast! It would stink probably anywhere else - the rotten potato - but amongst all the trash, it's probably the best smelling thing around. A small victory, a rare find in the bleakness of his existence. Despite the cynical part of him that questioned the point of documenting his journey, the Kaiju's analytical mind insisted on preserving any information that might prove useful in the future.
Although, 'What future? What future if any?' thought the perturbed anomaly. The question gnawed at the edges of his mind, growing more insistent with each passing day. What future did he have if caught by the Foundation? What future did he have living like this? Was the question the Kaiju kept returning to with no definite nor optimistic answer in sight. A myriad of emotions danced across his eyes. It was easy to miss the way things had been, to yearn for the good life, to wish for a return to normalcy, though that was now impossible.
He had never intended to escape containment; he didn't even remember wanting to. Trouble was the last thing he desired. It made sleeping hard, the fear of waking up to see the faces of his captors staring back at him with wide grins the moment he opened his eyes. He could have sworn he heard a whisper, but when he looked around, he was alone.
That night, he woke, his body drenched in sweat and his heart pounding fire-fury with fear. The heat was invasive; searing under his skin. An awfully bad dream, he'd had.
One or perhaps a memory, he'd seen himself surrounded by evil-looking beings for humans with fellow Kaijus and kind tied to stakes; some being burnt, some lacerated, others bled to death. He rose to run and before he could take a step, heavy chains bound his hands and legs. He struggled and fought the men with all he was worth but to no avail. He only succeeded in cutting red sharp wounds on his wrists and ankles from the unforgiving metal.
It was in this great terror, agony, and bewilderment he was struggling when he awoke.
As the last cobwebs of sleep withered from his mind, he looked to the spot where he had first sensed the monsters. The humans. If the Kaiju had any questions, he did not voice them. A bad dream, he thought with tired, indifferent eyes. Whatever had just happened was over now. Sometimes, the simplest sounds could be the most unnerving—cold winds whistling through trees, footsteps coming too close. There was no point in trying to sleep. He doubted he could anyway, no matter how hard he tried. He stared into the distance until it was time to leave. He ran a hand down his tired face, hoping to clear the heaviness from his eyes. He had to keep moving, to hide, gather data, investigate his surroundings, and devise potential solutions to his predicament. Ironically, he needed to be a scientist.
Three days passed.
Three days of avoiding capture, three days of restless nights, three days on the run.
The fear of death followed him everywhere; visions of his fellow Kaijus being tortured haunted him. Each time, goosebumps spread over him, and he'd look down his wrists and ankles to see those red sharp cuts once more. When night came again, he walked on unsteady legs and collapsed on the first doorstep he found, his hair unkempt and messy.
That night was worse than ever. Every sound, no matter how faint, or far away it seemed, could have been made by an Rscp Foundation search bot or an approaching foot soldier. He was covered in dust, and the thought gnawed at the back of his mind.
Another day comes. Another goes.
And nothing good has ever come of it. You just had to mess with me, didn't you, fate? His eyes were veiled with worry and defeat.
One peculiar noise made him rise from his place. To his surprise, it had disturbed no one else. And there it was, the source.
A white dog came forward, making fierce noises at him with it's face all scratched and torn. In that instant, a vivid blue pigmentation swirled around his irises, coalescing to form his pupils. The Kaiju emitted a low menacing growl, followed by a vicious snarl that echoed through the night. His heart was unyielding, and he bared a set of protruded razor sharp fangs, perfectly designed to rend flesh and bone. The sight and sound sent the poor dog fleeing in terror, whimpering as it scampered away.
When his eyes reverted to their usual amber, confusion crossed his face. He breathed heavily, unsure of what he had done. At least the noise stopped. He was thankful for that. Now, he needed to enjoy the little peace he had before it began again, the uproars. He lay on the cold ground, pulling his hoodie he sported tighter around his person in a futile attempt to keep the wind off his skin. I have to stop all this nonsense. All of this lunacy. Tomorrow, I start fresh! No more reliving dread-filled nights. No more paying heed to distorted voices. Just reaffirming my beliefs, faith, and confidence in rationality. Just being normal... if such a thing is possible." Kiel concentrated on breathing and struggled through the raw pain. He was frightened, cold, and hungry. But he would be okay, he assured himself. One day at a time. He was a survivor, after all. But who knew surviving was so much less than living.
The wind howled. Exhausted, the Kaiju turned to his side, closing his eyes in the vain hope that he would fall asleep. And soon, if indeed a short while, he forgot all his troubles.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone