Breach
There’s pain.
All I know is the hard rock underneath me, where I am now flat on my back, struggling to breathe. There is a peculiar wetness on my chest that I dimly recognize is blood. It is spreading far too quickly for me to slow or stop.
I can hear Chase shouting, frantic. I feel pressure pushing down on me, and know he is trying to staunch the flow, though I don’t know if he’ll be successful.
My vision is growing dim. The pain is unbearable.
And yet, at the same time, I can see everything. I see, from some heady distance, a bird’s eye view of my own body, of the soldiers who had not moved when I had fallen, of Leo Gries looking horrified, and Hemslock not at all.
With a loud, angry snarl, Askal leaps for Hemslock, and manages to take a huge chunk off his leg. With a shout, the man tries to kick him free, but Askal clings stubbornly. Hemslock turns the gun on him.
There is another shot.
“The fuck are you doing, Hemslock,” Gries whispers, face white.
“Don’t be such a pussy, man,” Hemslock says, calming, shoving the now-unmoving Askal to one side with his boot, then speaking directly to me. “I aimed it pretty carefully. It’s going to hurt like a bitch, but unlike your little mutt, you’ll live. Or you might not, with my next shot.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Gries chokes. “You really think you’re going to get what you want by shooting a teenager and a dog?”
“Don’t you get it yet, you fool? Lapulapu uses Spaniards like Cortes to feed his god, and in exchange he gets to be the most powerful brown bastard in this region. Who’s to say that this little shit hasn’t been doing the same thing? That everyone in this fucking country isn’t in on it and mad that I keep making the necessary sacrifices first? Why do you think this so-called tour guide has been willing to help us when everyone else had been warning us away? I bet you all this talk about a sick father was simply a sob story to gain our trust.”
“Alon’s literally bleeding out, you psychopath!” Chase shrieks at him, still pressing down hard on me. “And you killed Askal!”
“Unfortunate collateral damage,” Hemslock says coldly. His eyes flick somewhere behind Gries.
“How the fuck did you—” he snarls, then doesn’t bother to finish. He moves his rifle, the light attached to it catching on a tree creature standing by the passage to the other cave. A woman’s face lies juxtaposed over its inhuman features.
Some of the soldiers keep their guns pointed at the ceiling, at the swirling mass still multiplying above; two join Hemslock, firing at the balete monster who is adroit enough at avoiding their hail of bullets—scampering into the shadows, flickering in and out of their line of fire.
None of them seem to see the cave wall behind them beginning to pulse like a heartbeat as thick roots gather and intertwine to form another massive, hollow tree. None of them notice the roots on the ground splaying out from the construct, spinning and twisting toward them, until it is too late.
There is a cry. One of the thick roots has latched onto one of the men’s boots, and suddenly he is on the ground, struggling frantically as the tangles drag him toward the opposite end of the cave, where another knot of squirming tree-tentacles lies in wait. The others turn and begin firing at where the knot lies thickest, some aiming for the roots that are pulling their comrade away. Their shots tear off bark, but don’t deter the balete.
The man is yanked into the hollow, still screaming, still shooting blindly, to no avail. The hole closes behind him, and the man, the tree, is quiet, as if he never existed. The branches endure a few more seconds of gunfire from the rest of the mercenaries before they untangle abruptly on their own, scattering away like rats, revealing a solid cave wall with no sign of the soldier.
There are soft moans. More tree creatures form from the center of the twisting eye above them—the same hair-like tendrils and slim, razor-sharp branches for hands and gaping maws for faces.
They are quicker than before, deadlier now that their sanctuary has been breached. They avoid the hail of bullets, scampering upside down as they skirt along the sides of the cave, some posing as a distraction while others leap at the soldiers from behind. Another man goes down, and then another, screaming as the knife-like fingers tear into them, ripping through their vests to get at the tender flesh beneath. Their screams are abruptly cut off when those large, teeth-filled mouths snap down onto their heads.
Gries grabs at my shirt, helps Chase drag me behind a large boulder to shield us.
“Stay together!” Hemslock screams at his men.
“Is Alon alright?” Gries whispers.
“I don’t know,” Chase says frantically.
Gries shrugs off his jacket, pushes it under my head. He pushes his hands down hard against the wound on my chest. “We need to get you to a medic as soon as possible,” he says raggedly.
That’s unlikely, given the gunfire around us and the journey back out. I try to speak, but no words come out.
“Don’t talk,” Chase whispers. “Save your strength. We’re going to get you out of here.”
Another high-pitched scream is cut off by a horrific grinding sound. One of the tree creatures has found another victim. Blood is pooling around the lifeless soldier; his eyes staring at nothing while the monster begins to feast.
There is a whooshing sound, and the thing catches fire before it can gnaw its victim any more.
Hemslock has the flamethrower in his hands. Crazed, he swings it haphazardly.
“Stop it, man!” one of the remaining soldiers shouts in fear. “The explosives! We’ll all die!”
Hemslock isn’t listening. When the other man tries to deter him, the actor spins and shoves the weapon right into the man’s face. He launches again.
With a scream, the soldier catches fire, twisting and turning frantically before dropping to the ground and rolling, trying to put out the flames covering him.
“You’re not going to get me,” Hemslock shouts. “I’m going to fucking torch this whole island unless I get what I’m due, you fucking prick!”
He strides toward us. Chase clings to me, refusing to let go, even as the flames draw closer.
“I’m going to burn them to death if that’s what it takes,” he snarls.
Gries leaps at him from behind without warning, his weight catching the bigger man off-guard. Both hit the ground.
Gries tries his best, but Hemslock is heavier, stronger. The actor punches the other man’s face, grunts when his opponent manages to get in a knee, but he’s on an adrenaline high. He continues pummeling Gries once he gets the upper hand, the latter sagging under the force of his blows.
Chase props me against a large boulder then grabs his baton and runs at Hemslock, slamming the weapon against his back. “Leave him alone!”
It barely even fazes him. With a snarl, he punches Chase, sending him stumbling back. Then Hemslock slams the younger boy to the ground, his hands around his throat.
“I’m doing you a favor,” he snarls, fingers tightening. “Since you’re going to be a fucking orphan soon—”
He stops. His hold slackens. Blood drips from his mouth. He staggers back.
I stand behind him. In my hand is a heavy branch, its sharp end plunged through Hemslock’s stomach, in almost the same place he shot me.
Askal stands beside me, bearing no wounds. His jowls are pulled back, his teeth fierce, and he is growling.
Hemslock swings at me, his fist missing when I duck. Askal takes that opportunity to latch onto his arm, teeth digging in deep. With a scream, he spins, trying to shake him off.
Leo Gries has regained his footing, the flamethrower secure in his grip. My eyes flick toward Chase, but he is already sitting up, his hands pressed against his throat and his eyes glaring murder.
“I knew it,” Hemslock says, breathing hard. “I knew you were in on it.”
Both Gries and Chase look at me, take in the thick root that is now wrapped around my waist, staunching my injuries. They watch as the remaining tree creatures gather behind Askal and me, silently awaiting orders.
“You lied, didn’t you?” Hemslock wheezes. “You’re just like these monsters. You’re some tree freak evolved to look human.”
“I am human,” I say. “I have a sick father. I stayed on this island to try and prevent all this from happening.”
“And that’s why these fucking monsters are at your beck and call, right? Were you controlling them all this time? Did you cause the sinkhole and the corpse tree? Take out our comms, mess with our equipment, try to kill us that first time in the cave?”
“That was never me. I told the Diwata not to. I wanted him to leave you alone, to find some other way.”
“Him?” Even heavily injured, Hemslock cannot stop taunting. “Your little demon god?”
A harsh grinding sound echoes above us, like something massive is moving. Drawing closer.
Askal’s face abruptly splits open, but this time it is of his own doing. A mass of frothing tendrils springs from his head. His paws shift and, in the blink of an eye, become writhing, thick roots. My pet dog slowly comes apart, revealing what he really is for the first time. His tail wags, pleased by their reactions, before it drops off, branch-like protrusions forming in its place.
“No,” I say quietly. “Not my demon god. My father.”