Executioner

Executioner

                The next morning Tadyel woke up late with a groan. Her body had decided to play catchup for the past couple of nights now that the problem had been 'found', for all that the problem they found bothered her greatly.

                She rolled herself up out of her fairly spartan bed and rubbed at her eyes. Her 'room' had very little in it - her bed and a wardrobe for clothes. Her wardrobe was still half bare, but had been rapidly filling up at least. Beyond that, there was nothing in the room to indicate that it was Tadyel's in any way.

                Vanna had said it was odd, but to Tadyel it was normal. Down on the peninsula, working endlessly for the Thrath, there had been no time or materials to make more than a handful of toys. What there was were passed on when children became old enough to work - they'd never have a chance to use them again. Any paintings or rugs had long since been destroyed or hauled off, along with much else.

                To Tadyel, her new room was luxurious. She had a proper mattress, instead of a mess of ruined clothes beneath a sheet. And a bed! Being off the ground was excellent, although she hadn't actually seen a single rat since coming to Green Creek. In fact, her original mattress had been too luxurious - Tadyel had found the excessive softness hard to sleep on. Ven hadn't had any problems with it, though.

                A groan escaped her as she remembered what had happened the night before, and what would happen that morning. Whatever the end result it would not be good. Mavnen would probably be killed. The result of the Magi learning what she and Vanna had discovered also worried her; could someone in her village have been Thrath all along?

                Being unable to find Vanna in the shop worried Tadyel, but a quick check of her room assuaged the worries. Vanna was within, sleeping soundly atop her bed and still dressed in the blouse and skirt she had been wearing yesterday. She opened one eye and looked right at Tadyel as she poked her head in.

                "Is it that late already?" she asked. "I was hoping to fit in a trip to the baths for a shower before stupid woke up."

                "It might be later, I overslept," said Tadyel. "I'm not sure what time it is."

                Vanna turned her head at looked at a mechanical device covered in squiggles. It was her 'clock', although the few other villagers with clocks had them set to different times - and some to different numbers of hours in the day. "We've got about half an hour before she wakes," said Vanna. "I've been thinking that we should get a bigger clock for the main room - they're not hard to read, don't worry."

                "Okay," said Tadyel. "I'm going to make myself breakfast."

                "I'll join you."

                Clothier and apprentice, they sat down in the back room to eat their breakfast at one of the work tables. Eating in the room with the prisoner had seemed like a better idea than eating elsewhere as they usually did.

                "There's some information you should know before she wakes up," said Vanna. "They did the test on her kids. Neither of them were Thrath."

                When Tadyel stayed silent, Vanna continued, "We've discovered that she is definitely half Thrath. Her father was infertile, and her mother was... used horribly by the Thrath around the right time. We've also connected some dots, the abuses of the Thrath and the disgust they supposedly show much of the time - not at the act, but at the victim. We think they were instructed to do so by their lords so those like Mavnen would be born."

                "That's - that's disgusting," said Tadyel. "How could anyone ever do that, even to an enemy?"

                "Because of the way they look at all other humans. Non-Thrath are 'filth' to them. Not fellow humans. I know you've seen it first hand," replied Vanna.

                Tadyel nodded. She'd seen plenty of casual violence on the peninsula, heard of worse, and seen truly terrible things on her journey north. "So there are lots of Thrath amongst the refugees?" she asked.

                "We don't believe there are many. The Thrath do not enjoy it as much as they enjoy ordinary violence, so it rarely happens. But the process of asking and finding out has begun, as painful as the process is for all involved."

                "Didn't you believe us already? Surely the tales-"

                "The tales are why we must stop the Thrath. But we don't pick at old wounds merely out of curiosity. Now we are forced to hear of scars we wished to avoid."

                Tadyel, again, stayed silent. She chewed her food slowly.

                "My people need to use yours. Most cannot afford to get close, to become too sympathetic."

                "Let's not talk about it. I know why you didn't ask, and why you're probably forcing people to talk about things they may not want to remember, let alone discuss."

                Vanna lips wriggled as she almost said several things. Eventually she settled on, "Alright. Back to the matter at hand. A few have been discovered already, and panicked. Others seem to be non-Thrath, or are at least prepared to be under suspicion. We're not sure. We tested some of those who were obviously Thrath - the result was positive. They definitely have people amongst the refugees.

                "However, we are almost certain that despite the presence of Thrath that few - if any - of them are working with the others of their kind. They have no means of keeping in contact with each other or any outside coordinator. Our analysts have guessed that they rely on their ability to 'know' one another to work together."

                "Can't you use that to find them? And, did you separate those that may be Thrath from everyone else? They might-"

                "Of course they have been separated. For their own safety, just as much as for the other refugees. As for using their 'knowing'; we have tried. We have some complicated tests that have minimal success, unfortunately. They have 'safeguards' against being under the effects of some drugs; their 'knowing' ceases to function.

                "There is another important piece of information the analysts have put together. The recent surge in agitation groups is to a large extent due to the Thrath. Eden had Ormgus's body exhumed last night. He was Thrath."

                Tadyel's mouth opened slightly in shock. "Piss," she said, allowing her fork to gently dip onto the table.

                "We've got proof for a handful of other groups, and we believe many have Thrath in key positions. There must be some kind of coordination as the spike in groups was quite sudden - there would have been Thrath amongst the earlier refugees as well. Figuring out who they are means that we'll have less to work with, even as covert operations increase in number.

                "That's about it," Vanna finished, sighing. "Eden's ordered us to kill Mavnen after we finish asking her any last questions. She'll be checked after she's buried."

                "How - how are we going to kill her?" asked Tadyel, tentatively.

                "Scissors to her femoral artery. She'll bleed out quickly; a terrible accident. We'll find her shortly after it's too late, but try to bind the wound anyway. Then we'll get the guard, they'll find nothing unusual, and we'll be sad."
                "Okay," said Tadyel. She gulped. She was feeling kind of sad already, but more about what they had to do. Killing someone she knew... Even if she hadn't really known her.

                "I'll do the actual kill," said Vanna. "And you can stop pretending to be asleep!"

                In the corner of the room, Mavnen raised her head and glared. "Let's finish up breakfast," said Vanna, stacking up the remains of her meal.

                Tadyel nodded, and started scoffing down the remnants of her eggs.

                "So, you're going to kill me?" asked Mavnen, the very moment Vanna pulled her gag free.

                "Unless you give us a good reason not to, no," said Vanna.

                "Well, I could try to waste your time, but you won't believe me," replied Mavnen. "I'm glad that you killed the runts, though. Playing at caring for them was the single biggest drain on my time, until I escaped out here."

                "You seem almost... glad," said Tadyel. "You're about to die. Even Thrath-"

                "There's a lot of good in my death," said Mavnen. "Now that you Magi are on to us, we can stop this pissant shit where we don't just kill you all. I spent my entire life not doing it. I'm sick of it. If I can save the others from having to endure this shit then I'm doing them a big favour. Which feels good."

                "That - that's almost... Like the rest of us," said Tadyel.

                "I actually feel like explaining this to you shits. We are like you. We just hate you. I want to watch you slowly bleed to death, or maybe slowly roast alive. That would be fun. But more than wanting to hurt you, I want you dead. I spent a lot of hours thinking about killing my kids. Even when they were in my womb I knew they weren't Thrath.

                "Now they're dead. I'm really, really happy that you killed them for me. I'm happy that there's going to be an explosion of violence soon, and that so few of the dead will be Thrath. The only people I've met who I haven't wanted to hurt, who I like, are other Thrath. Maybe you'll find out who they are? Hahaha. But I like them. I want to help them. Unlike the rest of you, that I've spent my life around, they're not filth."

                "That's textbook Thrath," said Vanna. "But how did you know you are Thrath?"

                "I was told, of course. I could always feel it, but one day an opportunity presented itself so I was taken aside and had it all explained. More than just being Thrath. What our purpose is. Cleaning the filth from the world so it's clean again. It's perfect," said Mavnen.

                "Yet you hate pure blooded portal makers just as much. This isn't the world you're meant to cleanse," said Vanna.

                "We're meant to cleanse all that exists so that there's no more of you," said Mavnen, almost spitting with the hate poured into her last word.

                Silence descended for a moment. Vanna looked contemplative, and Tadyel felt scared - she'd seen the evil of the Thrath first hand, but she'd never known why. What they felt that compelled them to do it. It had always seemed like pointless hate, and perhaps Mavnen was wrong and it was just that; but the Thrath was so sure of it.

                "Goodnight for the last time, Ven," said Vanna, pulling out her knockout device.

                Mavnen just laughed in the few moments she had left.

                "It's done," said Vanna a little while later, returning to the backroom. "The guard will be here shortly."

                Tadyel nodded. Some 'work' was in front of her, knocked aside as if in a rush.

                "You should come out and take a look before they get here. You 'helped' with the binding," said Vanna.

                Tadyel rose with a nod. "Alright."

                After a couple of steps towards the front room, Vanna stopped her. "Listen. Things are about to get very bloody. I know killing Mavnen bothers you because you were... Becoming close to her, but you need to be ready for more killing. Completely innocent people are going to die - townsfolk, refugees, even just strangers who chose the wrong time to come to town," explained Vanna. "Be ready for it."

                "I will be," said Tadyel, "But I'm pretty sure I should be sad right now."

                "You're right," said Vanna. She put her hand on Tadyel's back gently. "Let's head through."

Storm

Storm

                The heavy rain and strong wind rattled the windows of the house noisily. Huddled inside were three people - a hazel-haired woman and two men. At least, they looked like men - the woman, Starla, knew better.

                The two men were shape shifters, able to swap between a monstrous shape and 'human'. There were a few little oddities in their human forms that Starla had noticed - one of them had no eyebrows, and the other occasionally changed eye colour and hair tone. The latter was weirder, but somehow less noticeable.

                Her 'targets' probably thought they hadn't been made, and that Starla's arrival was a stroke of luck. Food having their car break down right outside their door on the same day they planned on leaving? Amazing.

                Starla was actually there to poison the two of them. To do so, however, she was acted like a complete victim. Normally the creatures would drug their targets and carefully extract a small amount of blood to drink. Their victims would be fine and usually have no idea what had happened.

                Problems only occurred when the creatures readied themselves to move to a new location. Instead of taking only a small amount of blood, they would drain their victims dry and leave a heap of bodies behind. Only when that part of their cycle began did their presence become obvious - catching them earlier was rare.

                This time, it wasn't early. About a dozen people had disappeared over the past couple of weeks. A curious citizen with the right connections had found a body and brought in people who could help. Starla worked for those people - mostly handling dangerous tasks.

                Her job that night was a suicide mission. The aim was to trick the murderous monsters into drinking a large amount of her blood, causing them to accumulate a large amount of poison in their systems. The poison would at least slow them down and had a reasonable likelihood of killing one or both of the greedy creatures.

                "So your car broke down across the street?" asked one of them. He'd introduced himself as Vlad. Starla'd had a hard time not laughing at the name, despite her boss's assurances that 'they're nothing like vampires'.

                "Ahuh," said Starla. "I saw your veranda and that your lights were on so I rushed over here."
                "Pretty good choice," said Vlad. "A lot of the other houses around here are empty. We'll check out your car after the storm dies down. We might be able to give you a hand."

                "Thanks! I called the RACV, but they're so busy they can't send someone until tomorrow," said Starla. "I might call a friend if you guys can't do anything."

                "I'm sure you'll be fine," said the other. He called himself George. "Would you like a cup of tea while you wait? We have coffee, too."

                "That would be lovely," said Starla with a small smile. George bustled off, leaving Starla alone with Vlad.

                "Have you got a torch in your car?" asked Vlad. "We have a couple but I think they're packed up for the move."

                "You guys are moving?" asked Starla. "No - sorry - that's dumb. I can see lots of boxes. I guess moving out rather than moving in, though." The small dining room Starla had been welcome into had boxes stacked up beside empty shelves and furniture - only a few trash magazines were lying around.

                Vlad chuckled. "Yes, moving out. So do you have a torch?"

                "I think so. I think I have one in my emergency kit, and I definitely have a big one I borrowed a while ago. But it might be flat."

                "That'll do. The truth is we probably don't know any more than you do, but I have picked up one or two things over the years."

                Starla smiled. "You're very kind."

                "It's hard to turn away a stranger in need."

                A loud thunderclap caused both Starla and Vlad to look out the window. "That was close," said Starla.

                "Very," said Vlad. "I'm surprised we didn't see the lightning from here."

                George returned from the other room with three cups of tea. "I figured I'd make us all some. It's a special Earl Grey blend," said George. He passed Starla a cup, then set his and Vlad's down.

                Starla immediately took a sip. "It's nice!" she exclaimed. It really was nice, although it could have done without sugar. Whatever had been slipped into it was probably tasteless.

                "I very much enjoy a cup of tea," said Vlad raising his and taking a sip. Starla was pretty sure he hadn't actually drunk any. George, however, gave Starla a friendly nod and took a big gulp.

                "He'll say his savouring it, but he's really just not that big on tea," said George.

                Starla giggled. "So what do you guys do? Are you together or?" asked Starla. She drank some more of her tea - may as well get it over with. George's hair had changed colour again; it was now a deep shade of brown.

                "Well - no, no we're not together. Housemates and old friends," said Vlad. "We work all sorts of jobs because we move around a lot. Whenever the mood takes us."

                "At the moment we're working at rival supermarkets, strangely enough," said George. "Or we were. We'll need new jobs after our move."

                "I move around a bit for my job," said Starla. She finished the last of her tea. It was definitely affecting her - she felt pretty drowsy. It had also dulled the light pain caused by the poison in her veins. "It's a pretty good one." She yawned.

                "What do you do?" asked George. He seemed curious.

                "Hm?" asked Starla. She was really getting sleepy now. "I uh. I think I might take a nap and wait out the storm guys." Blinking her eyes repeatedly helped stave off the sleep.

                "That's alright," said Vlad. "We'll shake you awake when the storm's over."

                Starla nodded vaguely as she slipped into unconsciousness.

                She woke up on a hospital bed, surrounded by people. They were the 'medical staff' of the people she worked for - they'd put the poison into her system in the first place. "Hey," she croaked. A bolt of pain in her neck stopped her from saying anything else.

                "Alive already?" one of them asked. "The transfusion's only... Seventy percent complete."

                "She just talked. She's alive," deadpanned another - the doctor. "Don't try to talk - just relax until the transfusion's all done. Jun, turn down the pump - her heart's back."

                Jun, who had spoken first, nodded and fiddled with one of the machines Starla was attached to. One of them was connected to tubes full of blood that was pumping away, filling her veins back up.

                "Quick summary of what happened," began the doctor, "The two nasties took the bait. Drained you drier than a desert then drank your blood like the water in an oasis. It wasn't enough to kill either of them but it was enough to knock their lights out. They didn't get a chance to wake up.

                "There were a couple of problems getting you here and cleaning up, but that's all dealt with now. You've got a nasty cut near your throat we've patched up which is why you shouldn't talk, and a deep cut along each of your forearms. They're the cuts they used to bleed you out.

                "Now, I'd say any questions but you really shouldn't talk. I'm going to check over your wounds now that you're alive to make sure nothing has gone wrong. Blink twice if you understood what I've been saying."

                Starla blinked twice. "Good, good," replied the doctor. "Now try not to wriggle!"

Might

Might

                Things went horribly, irreversibly wrong almost immediately after Starla arrived. Dwayne's relative who ran the show - a grumpy old biddy - had understated the size of the monster by three orders of magnitude. It wasn't 'half a man' in any dimension - it was roughly two and a half in every dimension.

                That was a shock, but things only went wrong when the idiot who'd caught it poked it with a cattle prod. "Check this out! You can do whatever to it, it won't care!" - zap - half-arsed metal chains flying everywhere. Starla bolted immediately, heading back into the twisty and poorly signposted corridors of the warehouse complex.

                A few screams and shouts came from behind her, but soon all she could hear was the creature smashing through the walls. A bit of poor luck, dark and poor directions made her wind up back where she started, bursting into a room with broken chains and a couple of mashed bodies.

                I guess we won't be doing this the easy way, thought Starla. The original plan was to buy the creature, and then transport it to where it could be safely killed. Starla's 'boss', the old biddy Selma, knew something those selling the creature didn't. It was moving into its reproduction phase, in which its normally passive behaviour became incredibly defensive instead. If it successfully gave birth it would become even worse - it would hunt anything nearby to feed its young. Its numerous young.

                Starla wasn't bothered by the gore. She wasn't really used to it; rather, death and gore didn't bother her. Dying bloodily a few times throughout her life had caused her queasiness about both to fade. Or so she said; the first time she died she was so young that she may just have never realised that blood and death didn't bother her by themselves. Only losing her friends had.

                The thought let her steel herself. The creature's somewhere here still, she thought, but not right here. Time to call in the cavalry.

                A distant scream made her jump a little. After a few worried breaths she pulled out her phone and rang the 'panic number'. "Ring it if the shit hits the fan," Selma had said. The shit and the fan were certainly getting intimate.

                Each beep of the dial tone seemed to take longer than ever before. Come on come on come on come on - Yes! she thought, ecstatic when a voice answered.

                "Hi, who're you after?" asked the voice on the other end.

                "... Selma told me to call if things go wrong," said Starla. "Things have gone really wrong."

                "Shit. What sort of wrong?" asked the voice.

                "The creature is two stories high and an idiot shocked it," said Starla. "It's rampaging through the warehouses now."

                "That... is almost a worst case scenario. We'll be there in ten. Get out if you can, and call if it leaves the warehouses. That's the worst case," said the voice.

                "Okay," said Starla. Whoever was on the other end hung up immediately.

                Starla poked through her pockets for a hair tie. She'd had her shoulder-length hair down to make a better impression on the sellers, but now it was time to run around. A few rogue hazel strands gave her trouble but soon enough she got it all tied back.

                The monster seemed to be fairly distant. Starla could barely hear the beast's thunderous footsteps anymore and she hadn't heard yelling for a little while. The sellers had probably escaped already - they'd know their way around the warehouses far better than Starla.

                She racked her brain for the way back out. It'd taken a few false turns to get in, but she was fairly sure that the way out was straight out of the door she'd entered, if you ignored all the walls. If she managed to keep track of which way she turned she'd eventually make it back to the car park.

                For the second time she made her way out the door and entered the maze of passages. Quite how a warehouse complex became such a warren confused her. Buildings usually made sense, and warehouses were meant to be efficient as far as she knew. Maybe the haphazard placement of buildings was part of the reason the entire complex was abandoned?

                Some progress later (she'd found some of the signs that should be along the way out) Starla realised that the slapping stomps of the creature were a lot closer. Far closer than she was comfortable with - each of the creature's steps caused the walls and roof to shake. A long abandoned pole clattering to the floor made her jump.

                It also attracted the attention of the creature. The slow, steady pace immediately changed to a charge, a horrendous crash letting Starla know that the creature had torn its way through yet another wall. She bolted down the corridor she was in, putting as much distance between her and the pole as possible.

                Just before she reached the corner the creature tall through the wall behind her with a crash. In her panic, she hadn't noticed it changing course away from the pole and towards her. She screamed a little.

                The creature slammed into the far wall then turned, finally giving Starla a good, close, terrifying look at it. It filled the small corridor completely from left to right, and towered up almost to the six metre high roof. Beyond that it was more or less a giant, armoured blob - two trunk like arms extended from its spherical girth, and she'd caught sight of one more at its back. Four small yet obviously incredibly strong legs sat around the creature's base - given where they sat, there were probably two more at the back.

                A strange eye crowned the blob. It seemed to squeeze up and around to survey the creatures surroundings, quickly settling on Starla. A vertically slit mouth appeared from nowhere, the creature's skin stretching to reveal it. It was toothless - probably not about to be used to eat Starla - but the creature did roar.

                Starla bolted, hoping to lose the creature in the maze of passages. Great thuds came from behind her almost immediately, getting closer and closer and... She dodged aside, the creature stampeding past her cacophonically. Immediately she slipped back out behind it and ran away from it again.

                Much less time than she expected passed before the creature was after her again. And it was fast. She dared a glance behind, and the fear that shot through her from seeing it almost released her bowels. A good place to dodge again was coming up - actually, there was a corridor nearby she could slip into and maybe lose it. She leapt to the side...

                But the creature was expecting it this time, and slammed one of its legs into the wall of the corridor. The wall shook, but held; and the creature smashed into Starla, crushing her against the wall. She barely had time to gasp before she was crushed and died in pain. Again.

                She must've taken longer running around the warehouse than she thought, because she awoke to a pair of people fussing over her with a medkit. "It looks like she has some organ damage," said one of them, "But the neck snapping killed her."

                "Uh," rasped Starla. Everything seemed to hurt, yet somehow especially her neck, right leg and ribs.

                "You're alright, honey," said the other. "A little broken, but alright. We did have to twist your neck back, though. Can you wriggle your toes?"

                Starla wriggled her toes. "Phew," the medic continued. "No actual nerve damage. That's really luck. I'm Jun, and this is Ray."

                "Hey," said Ray. "We're going to get a stretcher together and get you out of here. The rest of the guys are dealing with the monster now."

                A massive crash echoed through the warehouse. "We should probably go," said Jun. "If they can't get the beast knocked out they'll flush it out with fire."

                Starla nodded and let the medics do their work. The pain made her wince frequently, especially when they moved her a little. When they were nearly finished, she asked, "Have you guys got any pain drugs or something?"

                "No," said Jun. "Neither of us is an anaesthetist, and normal painkillers won't cut it. Someone with your injuries is usually unconscious, but you came back to life so..."

                "This might knock you out," said Ray. "Time to lift."

                Although she steeled herself, the pain when Jun and Ray lifted her onto the stretcher made her screech loudly. "Holy shit," said Jun.

                "She's got some lungs," said Ray. "Okay love, we're getting out of here."

                A curt nod from Starla and they were off. Somehow the two medics knew exactly which way to go - a blur of silent running and pain later left them outside. The cool night air and the sky above was a great relief, oddly.

                "They got the critter, right?" asked Ray. "I barely heard the message."

                "Yeah," replied Jun. He looked at Starla and said, "Good work keeping it here."

                "Not, intentional," said Starla, forcing both words out. Jun and Ray were carrying her more gently now, walking over to a van.

                "I wouldn't get it after me on purpose either," said Ray. "But it's a happy accident. Losing it would be awful, but angered like it was it would probably have smashed up the nearest town."

                Jun nodded. "Here we are. We'll get you to an actual hospital now - we'll come up with the cover story later, but we have people there to shield you from questions," he said.

                Starla yelped in pain again as the medics loaded her into the van and tied her and the stretcher down so she wouldn't shuffle about. "I'm not sure whether it'll make you feel much better, but it seems you're the only casualty," said Jun after a quick chat on his radio.

                A smile from Starla made Jun smile in turn. "Alright. We're off," said Ray. She put a comforting hand on Starla's leg. "Hold in there honey." Starla nodded, and the medics closed up the doors of the van.

                A few moments later the van rumbled to life, and then Starla enjoyed a two hour trip of corners and pained yelps.

Still Awake

Still Awake

                The ship rocked softly as the waves made it bob up and down. Starla wriggled around in her hammock like a bug, swapping to her other side. She flexed her released arm, feeling it tingle as feeling returned to it.

                That was the way she slept most of the time. Wake up every hour or so to a numb arm then rotate and let feeling return while she drifted back to sleep. The numbness probably wasn't a good thing, but there didn't seem to be any lasting effects.

                Her hope that sleeping in a hammock would help was dashed on the first night of the voyage. She'd laid flat on her back and woken around midnight with both arms numb - it was a somewhat worrying experience. Sitting up and poking each arm with the other until both could feel again had been odd to do.

                Ten days into the voyage, ten nights of rolling side to side every hour. She was surprised she managed to dream. Someone had explained to her once that she wasn't really waking up when she turned; she only remembered it because her brain was 'a little weird'.

                It wasn't the only thing a little weird about Starla. She'd died about half a dozen times in her life. Not permanently, of course. It was an odd ability her family had: when near death, their body would completely shut down for ten or so minutes. Completely-completely - no pulse, brain activity, or anything. It was a small miracle that there was no brain damage.

                Not many people knew about their ability outside the family. Even within their family, only those directly related to someone who had it knew. For example Starla's mum had been told after marrying her dad, whereas the kids of her dad's sister had no idea (their mum didn't have the ability).

                Starla was the weird case, the one who had relied on the ability more times than most. When she was very young she had been in an accident. Her brothers and their friends had been playing around with the lawn mower and she chose a very bad time to walk in. The scars from that covered quite a bit of her body, but since she had instantly 'died' she'd lost very little blood - ten minutes was plenty to get her wrapped up like a mummy.

                The blood loss did still nearly kill her, though, and she died a couple more times that night. Her brothers and their friends got in a ton of trouble for it; but one kid stood out. Dwayne. When it turned out she was alive, he'd watched her for a bit. Somehow he'd known she'd been clinically dead.

                After she'd gone back to school Dwayne had watched her keenly for a couple of weeks. Then one day he just stopped. Starla was pretty sure his parents had talked to hers at some point, but it hadn't really made her wonder much back then. That was more or less the last she saw of Dwayne for a while - they were in different years and he ended up going to a different high school.

                Then, through a mutual friend, they'd ended up on the same holiday. Dwayne hadn't recognised her and Starla had decided it wasn't worth bringing up. 'Remember when you and my brothers cut me up really bad when I was seven?' would probably be weird, if not to Dwayne then to everyone else.

                But something horrible had happened on that trip. Monsters - something Starla was only vaguely aware of - tried to replace their group. Dwayne picked up on it when he came back from a walk to find himself already back from the walk

                It turned out that his family did monster hunting, so he was okay. But everyone else - Starla included - didn't have much hope. She almost got away, but the last of the creatures caught her just as she made it to the door. The wounds it inflicted caused her to die a little bit later.

                She woke up to Dwayne heaving her body inside. "Oi!" she said, then groaned. Her wounds were bleeding already - she'd die again soon. Maybe for good if Dwayne didn't patch her up.

                "What the fuck," said Dwayne, tossing her on the floor.

                "Ow!" she said. "You really don't remember me, do you?"

                "What?" said Dwayne.

                "When I was seven you saw me get cut up by a lawn mower," said Starla. "And then-"

                "You're Francesca?" said Dwayne. "I mean, I guess you-"

                "Yes!" said Starla. "I hate it so I've gone with my middle name since high school. Listen -" Starla coughed heavily, getting more blood on her clothes. "- bandage me up so I don't bleed out, okay? I'm about to go under again."

                Dwayne looked at her. "My parents did get yours to cough up what you are, or... What you can do, I guess, back then. So okay," he said.

                Then she died, again. She came back on a bed, tightly bandaged pretty much everywhere. Dwayne was watching her with his sword in hand. "Thanks," she muttered.

                "You probably don't want to move, although... You really haven't lost much blood. Some while you were dying but since then..." said Dwayne.

                "Yeah, it's how I stay alive," said Starla.

                "How the hell does your brain stay alive without oxygen?" asked Dwayne.

                "My dad says it's - oh crap," said Starla. She stopped a cough, the hocked up a bunch of blood. "I shouldn't talk. Apparently it shuts down completely, so no oxygen is needed. Don't know why everything comes back at once."

                Dwayne nodded, apparently satisfied. "I don't want to move you any further - and you're lucky we had a lot of bandages," he said. "Lu was always a bit worried about first aid."

                Starla frowned. "I - don't want to think about it. Not yet. I'm just - going to sleep for a bit," she said. "I'll be alright now that I've clotted."

                Dwayne nodded. "I'll keep an eye things," he said.

                "There are more?" asked Starla.

                "Maybe," said Dwayne. "Just be dead if they pop in, or something." He didn't catch Starla's eyeroll.

                Luckily, though, no more of the creatures had shown up. Dwayne's family had rocked up and checked things out. Apart from a couple living nearby, no-one else had been replaced. Dwayne had killed the couple's replacements right after he killed his double, apparently. Starla'd been too busy running away, although it did explain why Dwayne took a little while to show up.

                Nobody knew exactly what the creatures were, but that was pretty normal. Strange creatures fell into the world all the time; so where these ones had been before they emerged from the ocean was a mystery. After all that... Nothing much. Starla was asked to keep with a story Dwayne's family concocted about the house burning down. His conveniently placed relatives falsified the autopsies, and no-one suspected a thing.

                Starla knew, of course, and it hurt. She hadn't known all of them very well, but two - Ida and Mallory - had been her close friends. They never found their bodies; the coffins were filled with the burnt remains of the shapeshifters that had imitated them.

                Since then... She'd fallen into a rut. The holiday was right after she'd graduated university but she couldn't bring herself to apply to jobs, go to interviews, all of that, when she'd just lost two close friends. Getting a job and working had lost the little appeal it had. After a while she'd realised something: she wanted to stop stuff like that happening again, if she could. Pretending that the world was safe and free from horrifying things was stupid.

                Dwayne had suggested to her that her ability would be useful for the sort of things his relative handled. At the very least she could survive things that should kill her (well, some things). But having her return from the dead - that had 'serious potential'. When Starla realised what she wanted to do, she'd gotten in contact with Dwayne's relative.

                That was why she was on the boat, turning on her side every hour to prevent her limbs going numb. Thinking about her ability made her wonder if her limbs could survive without oxygen for extra time as well - especially since ten minutes wasn't the limit. When she or her family drowned they could stay waterlogged for hours; the one drowning death in the family hadn't been fished out for a couple of days. Between the mower and the monsters, Starla had drowned and been dead for an hour herself.

                It probably wasn't a good idea to test whether her limbs would survive. Knowing that there definitely wouldn't be any damage was good, though - if they were deprived long enough, her limb would probably just temporarily die.

                One day, I think I'll ask someone to study me, thought Starla. She wriggled a bit more in her hammock. Gotta get back to sleep, I need to be on the ball tomorrow when we get to port.

                Also quite luckily for her, she was easily able to. Her soft snores soon drifted through the hold. Tomorrow would be interesting.

Probably Alive

These stories were just random horror-actiony ideas. They don't fit Midwel and I probably won't wind up writing any more of them, but they've all got one particular character in them.

Probably Alive

                Well, I survived. That's something. One out of ten's not bad, right? There's one hell of a mess to clean up. I'm not really sure what to do, to be honest. It's a lot more mess than I'm used to.

                I've been doing... monster hunting on the side. Sort of. A relative does it, calls any of us, all of us in when they need a hand. Pays us, too, so it's not bad. Sort of. I don't really talk about it. I was on holiday, anyway.

                I went for a walk around the block, tossing up whether to drink. I'm pretty sure I was encouraged too? Nice scenery, or something. Anyway, during the walk things got a little weird. Honestly, I think it was a bunch of lures. Stupid cliché stuff, too; a fifty dollar note that 'blew' away, people walking around, matching my pace... I lost them, of course. You don't hunt monsters without knowing how to deal with stalkers.

                When I got back I was already sitting down, having a drink. Not me, of course. A double. I'd never seen one before, but my relative's rundown included some crap in case something imitated one of us. Or if someone was compromised. Lots of stuff.

                I caught site of the double from the doorway, so I grabbed my blade. It's an, uh, dagger. Two feet long, silver, sharp as hell. I have it as a show-off thing, lock it up when people are getting drunk. It was right where I left it, thankfully.

                My dagger hidden, just barely, I announced myself. "So why are there two of me?" I think. I guess it's a classic. My double pulled a "What the hell?" Not really a me line. Especially not if he had my memories (another one I was ready for).

                I stared at him for a few moments, then said, "Aight, you don't know jack. Laptop: login to it," I said.

                "What?" my double asked. Everyone else seemed confused.

                "You don't have my memories or you'd be responding a lot differently," I said. "Login to the laptop."

                "Why the fuck should I-" he began.

                "Because I just got back from my walk, and you're sitting there," I said. "I'd say something everyone should know, but it might be a multiple compromise."

                "What?" muttered one of the girls. Lu.

                "Just login to the laptop, man," said one of the guys. Dave.

                "You guys believe him?" asked my double, incredulously.

                I spoke over a couple of people attempting to talk. "It takes five seconds to prove you're real. So do it. It's not even a double jeopardy 'you're going to die if you fuck up' situation. So do it," I said.

                "You've fucked with my-" my double began.

                "I just got here, and I was using my laptop right before I left. Hell, it's locked, not logged out," I said. "Login."

                My double scrabbled for an excuse. Suddenly, one of the other girls said something - Ida. "I saw Mallory fiddling with it!" she said. "She might've-"

                "No-one knows the password except me. Which, uh, you all fucking know. Which means you and Mallory aren't really yourselves, which is fucking great," I said.

                My double glared at me. "This guy knows something. We should end this," he said.

                "Agreed," said Mallory. Ida shrugged. Everyone else was looking kind of weirded out.

                I don't know why they decided that was enough; but I had, uh, certainly underestimated the situation. I should've killed my double outright and knocked off the two outside. It would've helped.

                Instead, my double and the two 'girls' started to shift. My doubles' clothes didn't exist (of course - truth is, I should've just asked my double to remove his fucking jacket, since he was 'wearing' the same stuff), but the girls' did. So theirs ripped to shreds as they changed.

                Of all the fucking things, they turned into seven foot tall, shelled, massively clawed... Creatures. Their 'heads' were part of their body armour, and their claws were behind their hands, stretching over the top.

                Now, three of those in the midst of five unarmed humans... They got Lu and Victor immediately. The screams started, and I had to whirl around to check a thud behind me. It was the front door; and the two people who had been stalking me stood there. They were stripping; obviously they intended to resume the same forms or something.

                I had my blade in my double before he could go after anyone else. Despite seeming armoured his 'shell' was soft, and my blade ripped into it. I think the blessings helped, too; he blistered black around the wound immediately. Might've just been a reaction to the silver, or the air, though. I can't be fucked checking the bodies.

                I had to dig around a bit before he stopped moving, but he wasn't agile enough to get his claws around to me. "Bolt!" I yelled, rushing at the other two.

                One of them was smart enough to give up on the stripping before I reached them; the other lost their head. It was probably a side-effect of the transformation, but my blade slid through without much resistance at all. Definitely no bones.

                The other swung a claw at me that I ducked, then found themself against the wall and me too close for clawing. I put my sword where the rib cage should've been, and cut through whatever the hell it had inside. Quite a bit. It gurgled, and went silent.

                Behind me, things weren't going well. They'd gotten Mitch, Lu and Starla were missing along with one of the creatures. The others had, I think, just finished off Mitch. It looked at me and the bodies, then jumped out the window.

                I'm guessing it didn't expect me to follow, but I did. I nailed it right in the back as it was shifting to a clothed version of Ida; it went splat. I crushed whatever goop it was inside, leaving it half transformed and gasping. A quick stab (I'm not leaping out a window with a sword again, mind - I nearly stabbed myself.

                It was right then that Starla stumbled through the door bleeding, the last creature right behind her. It stabbed her again as she fell over, then I was on it. I sliced off an arm, then slit it open from hip to head. After a low groan it toppled, and I finished it off.

                Starla gasped a couple of times, then went silent. I checked her pulse, but she was dead. I found Lu just inside; the creature had gotten her first. Upstairs, headcount, call family. They've got some clean-up coming. House is fortified, and we're gearing up to clear out a lot of these fuckers.

                I'm hoping it's just five - it seemed like they weren't planning to replace all of us, so there probably aren't hundreds at least. If they had been, they could've just gotten us all at once; poison or something, after one person was replaced. Ida and Mallory are almost certainly dead - I'm not holding out hope on that one.

                Fuck me, I could use a drink. But... It's time to wait. Wish me luck, cyber ghosts. Actually, maybe I'll just hide in the roof. That's... not a bad idea. After I drag the bodies inside though. They might attract some attention.