Fletcher stared at a very small portion of Naeku’s back, his face gently bouncing off of it with every step. At this point, his stomach was one giant mess of throbbing from all the pressure against it, but there was no point in complaining, even if he could have. Clearly these people had something important to be doing, and Fletcher was simply along for the ride.

  His neck was sore from trying to look up instead of hanging down, since for whatever reason they left his arms tied to the pole that went behind his neck making it even more uncomfortable to get glances at his surroundings. From the bits he had seen, they were still in the catacombs, but none of it was recognizable.

  Nobody spoke as they moved, at least from what he could hear. He thought he picked up on occasional quiet conversation, but with his damaged hearing, he couldn’t make out any details, which left him trapped in his own thoughts as he lay over Captain Naeku’s broad shoulder, cursing the fact he’d ever been born an Anders. In less than a year that last name had single-handedly managed to ruin nearly every facet of his life, but there was no way to really rid himself of it and the relations that came with it.

  Naeku’s steps slowed, and Fletcher kept his hopes from rising too high. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d been duped into thinking they were finally stopping for the night. Nothing sounded as good right now as lying down and passing out for several hours, even knowing he’d probably be plagued by nightmares. Sleep was too alluring for even that threat to scare him away. How long would the wail’os be in his system? It would have been nice to know that, but obviously he had no way of getting that answer anytime soon.

  Captain Naeku came to a complete halt, which was enough of a difference from everything else that Fletcher mustered the effort to raise his head up and glanced around. The catacombs, Sergeants Johnston and Sosa, and then behind them was Major Simpson.

  He didn’t see anymore as Naeku lifted him off his shoulder and lowered him to the floor below. He finally got a good look at the bandages and splints covering his body. His feet were wrapped up tightly, and his abdomen was one giant wrapping. Both legs were splinted with metal rods to hold them straight.

  Ibara knelt down, holding a knife, and Lieutenant Teller was nearby, shining a flashlight down a small crawl space in the middle of the wall.

  “All clear, General,” Teller announced, turning the light off.

  Ibara reached out and freed Fletcher’s hands from their bindings, removing the pole behind his neck. Immediately Fletcher reached up and removed the gag from his dry mouth, grimacing at the redness along his wrists.

  “Here.” Sergeant Ibara held out a bottle of water.

  Fletcher took it and downed a good portion of it as his mother crouched next to him.

  “Fletcher, listen closely,” she said in a quiet voice.

  He glanced at her, still holding the water bottle.

  “We have a mission to complete, one that we can’t afford to carry deadweight on. We’re going to leave you here in the shaft where you’ll be safe. We’ll come back for you when we’re finished,” Hazel said.

  He nodded. “How long?”

  “Hopefully no more than a few hours.” Hazel took the bottle from him.

  “What is the mission?”

  She smirked. “That’s above your paygrade.” She stood up. “Get him in there. We need to hurry.”

  Naeku and Ibara reached down and lifted him, putting hands behind his back and under his legs, just before the splints. They heaved him up and pushed him into the small shaft legs first, each bit of movement sending jolts of pain through the broken legs as they slid across the cool stone.

  Fletcher was a couple feet inside the shaft when they let go and backed away.

  “Stay quiet and out of trouble. We’ll be back. Don’t cause problems,” his mother said to him as parting words.

  “Right,” he muttered to himself, wrapping his arms around his half-naked torso due to the chill of the rock he was laying against.

  He briefly heard footsteps fade away, and with it went all the light.

  [Dark Vision: Active]

  Fletcher stared up at the stone above him, outlined in gray. He was freezing and in pain and completely alone deities knew where. Not exactly how he thought his night would go, and bits of it threw him back to that night back in Bren’it’p after the terrorist attack when he first ran into the Mixed and they chased him down to take him captive. As bad as that had been, this was worse. A lot worse.

  There was nothing to do in that shaft, and it reminded him all too much of a coffin for his preferences. The stone pressed all around him, and his body ached. There was no way of telling how much time passed since the Unhumans also took his watch, those jerks. At least it was the cheap one he bought at Hotshot training since he still wasn’t willing to risk his father’s prized heirloom and it remained safely stowed with his belongings.

  The time in the tunnel would have been a good time to sleep except his mind refused to shut down, still under the effects of the drug the Unhumans gave him, which left him to stare at the rock and think. Mainly they were dark thoughts, wishing away his life in the Mixed.

  He liked to believe that a lot of time was passing in hopes of getting out of this rocky casket soon, but there was no sign of Hazel and her team.

  Wait, he heard something.

  Finally.

  Fletcher shifted as much as the narrow shaft allowed, turning so he could see out of it. Thanks to his [Dark Vision], he saw faint outlines of the rest of the tunnel. The sound of footsteps grew closer. Good. They were through with whatever mission they had going on and were coming back so he could at last be taken to their camp and get some proper rest.

  He watched as the outlines of other people passed by, his eyes going wide.

  That definitely wasn’t his mother and her team. More Unhumans based on the glimpse he saw.

  Fletcher quieted his overactive heart and kept his breath shallow. They passed by. It was fine. They had no way of knowing he was in here. Unless.

  “Wait!” one of the Unhumans shouted. “There’s one nearby.”

  Crap. Probably a [Bloodhound] then.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  A new outline crowded the end of the shaft, the faint face of male [Bloodhound].

  “Hello, jemlk’wp. Did your pack leave you all alone?” he asked.

  Fletcher panicked. He didn’t even have a gun. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t let the Unhumans take him captive again.

  The [Bloodhound] reached out towards him, and Fletcher frantically shuffled backwards, ignoring the twinges of pain from his legs. He had to get away. Bury himself deep enough they couldn’t reach him and then hope the others showed up in time to save him.

  “Don’t be shy,” the [Bloodhound] growled, reaching far enough in that his entire torso was in the shaft.

  Fletcher increased his shuffling, pushing himself down the shaft, praying he wasn’t backing himself into a deadend.

  There was a strange sensation across his legs. No stone… open air. Oh, shoot. That wasn’t good either. A drop was as bad of news as a dead end.

  But the [Bloodhound] was approaching, and Fletcher acted on instinct, shuffling back another few inches.

  And that was enough to be the tipping point. His entire body slid off the rest of the shaft, and he tumbled through the air, dropping down into an even colder cavern.

  Luckily there was something to break his fall, and he landed on warm, mushy flesh instead of splatting on the ground.

  Unfortunately, that mushy flesh belonged to a vrenfa, a creature that might as well have come out a bad 1980’s scifi film given it was fifteen feet tall, had two fanged mouths, four legs, and three arms. Its body was softer than normal flesher, but more solid than slime. It was such a strange beast that the Humans simply used the Unhuman word for it instead of coming up with their own as they had for cycats and tooth fairies.

  The vrenfa was very much not happy to have a Human dumped on its head, and it reached up to grab Fletcher. But vrenfas had short arms, almost like a t-rex, so it couldn’t actually grab him. Fletcher used his arms to guide his descent down the creature’s back, realizing that this might actually be worse than facing the Unhumans.

  Just as he reached the bottom, his broken legs met the floor and sent another wave of pain across his body. Gasping, Fletcher dropped to the cold, wet ground, using his arms to shield his head.

  [Activating: Frenzy]

  The [Skill] hardly did anything against the massive amounts of pain, but at least it was something to give him a little help in such a hopeless fight. The room was on the bank of the underground river, with the far side leading directly into the water and a few corridors spaced throughout. But that didn’t give much space for Fletcher to avoid the beast that now chased him.

  The vrenfa roared and bent down to him with one of its mouths open. Fletcher tried to roll away as the creature’s fangs opened around him, but the vrenfa managed to grab his right arm.

  Fletcher cried out as the beast lifted him, biting down hard on his flesh. The vrenfa swung him up, but just as the second mouth was coming to get a piece of him, the [Bloodhound] landed on it.

  Screeching, the vrenfa tossed Fletcher away to worry about this new intruder. Fletcher slammed into the far wall, jarring his head against the rock as he fell back to the ground. Water splashed all around as the vrenfa chased after the [Bloodhound]. More Unhumans fell from the hole in the ceiling, but they were all very much consumed by the vrenfa, ignoring Fletcher entirely.

  That was fine by him. His head hurt, and his thoughts were a bit fuzzy, but that wail’os kept him wide awake regardless of his concussion. But if the Unhumans and vrenfa were all distracted with each other, this meant it was a good time for him to make his great escape to… somewhere.

  Fletcher glanced around the room where he now lay, but there was nowhere to go. Sure there were other corridors, but he could never make it there with two broken legs. He had to pull himself along with his arms which made for slow progress, and he’d definitely get caught trying to get to one of them given the Unhumans vs vrenfa battle was happening in between him and any possible exits. The side of the room nearest to him had a large river running through it, and he didn’t think he stood much chance of swimming either.

  Pulling himself along with his one good arm, Fletcher leaned back up against the wall and took deep breaths as blood poured from the gouges on his right forearm. It also had a strange shape that led him to believe it might also be broken. Just his luck.

  Fletcher didn’t get long to lament his latest lot in life as the fight between the vrenfa and Unhumans spilled over towards him. Swearing, he tried to squeeze himself flat against the wall which seemed to work for the most part until the [Fairy] on the Unhuman side used [Blastwave], sending the vrenfa stumbling back into Fletcher.

  Trapped amongst the vrenfa’s feet, Fletcher went back to using his singular functioning limb to protect already beat up head as the legs nearly trampled him. He did his best to avoid the creature’s steps, but with such limited mobility, it didn’t exactly work out. He got all tangled with the vrenfa’s clawed feet, and the beast howled and moved violently, sending Fletcher spinning across the floor again.

  Caught up in avoiding more vrenfa legs, Fletcher let himself roll for a bit, hoping to avoid any more stompings. But he wasn’t careful in how far he let himself go, and he ended up going over the edge of the floor and dipping straight into the ice cold water.

  The urge to survive winning out over the pain, Fletcher managed to swim to the surface of the water, gasping as he broke back into the air and grabbing onto the ledge with his left hand to keep himself from floating away. From there, he had a great view of the battle.

  The vrenfa and Unhumans continued to fight, but it was clear the vrenfa was losing. Which meant the Unhumans would then remember their original task—tracking him down.

  They had a [Bloodhound] with [Sniff] who could easily detect him wherever he tried to go. But [Sniff] couldn’t detect things in water, right? Wasn’t that how it worked?

  The river he was in chilled him to the bone, but surely it was a better option than being taken by the Unhumans again. He was absolutely not up for more torture. But staying in the water would kill him at this temperature, so it was a big gamble.

  Fletcher’s decision was made for him when the vrenfa gave one final heave and collapsed to the ground. The [Bloodhound] immediately scanned the room and grinned upon seeing Fletcher floating in the river.

  “Found you, jemlk’wp,” he called out.

  Releasing the ledge, Fletcher pushed off with his own good hand and dove under the surface of the water, keeping his eyes open. Hands came into the water after him as the [Bloodhound] reached out for him.

  Fletcher swam away best he could, fueled by adrenaline and [Frenzy] despite the cold and pain. His lungs started to burn from that kind of exertion while holding his breath. He’d spent a lot of time over his summers playing at pools, but the casual games of childhood never could have prepared him for this.

  The hands disappeared for a moment, but Fletcher knew this wasn’t over. But he really needed air, and soon.

  Looking around, he noticed an opening on the far wall and there were bubbles coming from it which led him to believe he might find oxygen inside, away from the Unhumans.

  Swimming as best he could with his splinted legs and broken arm, Fletcher made his way across the short river to the opening and pulled himself inside using his left hand. Just as he hoped, when he pushed upwards, he broke the surface and greedily gasped for air. He was in some kind of duct, with a wall separating him from the Unhumans and their eyes. He might have gotten away.

  He heard talking across the way, though only faintly due to the ringing in his ears and the lapping water around him.

  “Go after him,” a woman said.

  “That water is freezing. He’s probably already dead,” the voice he recognized at the [Bloodhound’s] replied.

  “We can’t let him go,” the woman argued.

  “Tell the Commander he’s dead. There’s no way a weak jemlk’wp could survive for long in conditions like that. The vrenfa got a piece of him too,” the [Bloodhound] continued.

  From there the conversation faded, and Fletcher leaned his head against the wall, sighing in relief. They thought he was dead, which meant he was safe from them. The only problem was that the [Bloodhound] had a good point. Even with [Frenzy], there was no way Fletcher would last long in water this cold. But he had nowhere else to go. Leaving his hiding spot risked being taken by the Unhumans, and staying meant risking hypothermia. He was stuck, though he didn’t think his decision really mattered. If someone from his mother’s team didn’t find him soon, he’d be dead either way.

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