Subject: [UW!] Heather pt 3

From: "Macaw" tomt@f1.net.au

Date: Fri, 03 September 1999 08:51 PM EDT

Message-id: <37d06c99@wsydnap.rpi.net.au>

Heather walked. The moonlight pierced the canopy here and there, sending

eerie shafts of pale light down to illuminate patches of the pine needles

that crunched under Heather's feet as she walked.

Heather had flipped through the manual a while ago, and loaded the shotgun.

She hoped she wouldn't have to use it. Hoped so dearly. That her parents

were alive, that she would live, that it was all a nightmare.

Still walking, hours later. The world was vertical lines of black,

vertical lines of white. No colour, no features, just trees and the moon.

Heather was crying. But silently, for deep inside part of her was still

rational, and that part told her that noise would bring the hideous

creatures of her childhood dreams racing after her. No noise. Quiet was

everything.

Heather stopped. She was thinking. Which way should she go? Everywhere

was the same. Nowhere was different. It was all trees and the moon and the

shadows. But behind her lay the remains of the resort. She had left

in...which direction? From the back of the lodge, which meant that the city

was...southeast.

"No..." Heather whispered to herself. The city was the other way! Back to

the resort.

Heather turned right and marched on, faster, stronger. She was going to

live. She had to live.

Her world was so devoid of colour, of any light but the pale light that

washed the shadows away, that the very flicker of yellow stopped her and

turned her. It was firelight.

A cabin. Heather neared. As she neared it, her hopes began to sink,

faster and faster until she was running to the cabin, throwing the door open

and throwing up as she saw the hideous remains of a mutilated hunter

(human!). His head was laid open, his brains showing. His guts lay

scattered across the bearskin rug. His pistol was at Heather's feet. Spent

bullet casings littered the floor. The fire still burned merrily, oblivious

to all the horror that it illuminated in a yellow light.

Open-mouthed, Heather stared. Then she automatically retrieved the

pistol, turned and dropped it again as the door swung open to reveal a green

creature with spade claws. It charged. Heather raised her shotgun. It

swung its claw. Heather fired at point-blank range. The claw missed by so

little that Heather felt the wind. She was eternally grateful for the fact

that the only to entrances were the window and the door, side by side, as

she fired again at the creature, knocking over again momentarily. She

picked up the handgun and, hoping there was ammo, fired. Held the trigger

down and sent five booming shots into the creature, the sound ricocheting

into the night.

The creature was still, dead. Heather was searching through the desk.

She found three clips. Managing to figure out how to use the pistol, she

reloaded it - it was empty - and strapped the bloodied holster to herself.

She was about to leave when she heard a scraping on the floor. Turning

reluctantly, she just fought down a scream as she saw the corpse, the

mutilated, bloody corpse of the man, clamber up. Heather immediately pulled

the ax from her backpack. She had a feeling she'd need her other weapons

later. She swung the ax. The head of the man rolled across the floor. The

body collapsed. Heather put the ax back and left. She ran this time, ran

until she literally collapsed. Then she got up and speed-walked.

Dawn was breaking when she saw the first sign of movement. Real, human

movement. A muscular man and a ranger woman. She called out.

"HEY! Help me!" she screamed. The two people swung.

"Look OUT!" the man screamed. He pointed wildly behind Heather. She

ducked and rolled foward without bothering to look behind, then raised her

shotgun and blew the hell out of the purple thing that had nearly decpitated

her.

"Are you all right?" demanded the man, helping her up.

"Well, I haven't slept for 24 hours, I'm covered in blood from things that

shouldn't exist, my parents are missing and I'm tired and hungry and

thirsty." Heather snapped.

"Okay then." the man said. "Come with us, back to the city."

"I just want to get out of here." Heather said as she followed them.

************************************************************

Heather waited impatiently. Skyler was talking to the police chief. She

finally threw up her hands in exasperation, picked up her pack and walked

out. She had money. She had...equipment. Not that she was going to use a

gun on a person.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be waiting for Skyler?" the desk sergeant

called as she briskly walked out of the RPD. She ignored him.

The streets were like that of a typical American city, the sky was grey

overhead, the trees lacking in colour. The only birds were pigeons and

sparrows, the only wild animals the homeless beggars. Heather wandered.

She didn't care about anything. A motorbike pulled up. The police officer

said, "Heather, you were supposed to stay at the RPD. Come on, now."

Heather swore obscenities at him and fled.

"Hey!" the police officer yelled.

Heather turned down an alley. Out into another. Then in the back

entrance of a shop.

"What the hell?!" a guy about three years older than Heather demanded as

he dropped the books he had been holding on his foot.

"Sorry..." Heather read his nametag. "Sam." she ran out through the

bookshop and into the street. She didn't know where to go, what to do. But

she was going to find her parents. If they were alive they were here in

this stinking excuse for civilisation.