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The ringing of the quarters’ phone roused the drowsy Lascarone from his slumber. He shot up in his chair, blinking at reality, before realising the call was for him. He swiped up the phone and leaned against the desk.
“Go for Lascarone.”
“Glenscoe here,” Glenscoe spoke. “Update from the pilots. They’re ahead of schedule, almost at the landing point.”
Lascarone sighed. At least unforeseen delays wouldn’t interrupt the rescue.
“I’ll be down soon.”
“Did I catch you napping, Bridge Officer?”
“Don’t feel bad, everyone has a habit of doing that.”
“I see,” Glenscoe chuckled. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Click.
Lascarone reclined in his chair and rubbed his face. A bit of hope persisted, confident in the survival of the Brutta Notte team, but years of experience instilled a cynical disregard for such a sentiment. Dead or alive, he hoped that he would find it easy to move past the operational blunder of the last few hours.
And that the unfortunates below would rest easy, too.
…
They had been through an ordeal inconceivable to every other person on the planet. They had endured a forest that hosted a powerful concentration of otherworldly magic, broken pieces of militant robots held together in a floating swarm by terrible power, an entourage of mysterious distorted figures with little clue as to their true intentions, and an alternate dimension of fascist debauchery all wrapped up in the nefarious goals of a secret conglomerate of Nazi militants and idealists.
At the last hurdle, fate had thrown that thing back onto their path.
In the immobility of the shock such a noise brought, Alvotolini felt that lethal subduer of rational thought rise with worrying speed. Panic. Fear. Terror. It gnawed at him, compelled him to give in to callous urgency, told him that there was no hope in anything other than running.
Darkness on all sides. Certain death ahead and behind.
They could only push through.
The thudding steps of the beast’s approach, complimented by splashing waves, announced its imminent arrival.
“Sir?” Giancarlo asked, breath heaving. “It’s coming right for us.”
“I know,” Alvotolini said, panting. “We can’t go anywhere else but forward.”
A mind fragmented by pain and exhaustion could only conceive a simple plan in brief and desperate steps. A flash of Maxim’s severed arm dissuaded any ideas of a direct engagement. Aelwin’s fate, sitting slumped in a corner while subdued by the beast’s horrid influence, told him that getting caught wasn’t an option.
They had to get past it and run.
“Sir?” Giancarlo said.
Alvotolini felt something against his leg. Looking down, his eyes made contact with the two wide pupils of the shimmering form below. A being made of water, surface glistening and rippling, gripped his leg like a pleading kit. It gazed up into his eyes as a tremendous warmth crawled up his leg. Gravity felt stronger, the temptation to lie down mounting with every second of continued contact, and Alvotolini’s eyelids weighed heavier with each passing second. The being giggled affectionately, resting its face against him.
Alvotolini pressed his gun into its face.
Bang.
A pain-wracked shriek echoed through the empty expanse as the being recoiled and collapsed into a sheet of water, disappearing into the shallows with a splash.
“Get your weapon ready!” Alvotolini yelled, easing himself off Giancarlo’s shoulder. “We get around this thing and make a break for it!”
“Certo!”
The gunshot and shriek summoned a greater aggression from the incoming monstrosity. It raced towards them, shaking the ground with every skull-crushing step, and seconds later its monolithic form broke through the veil of shadow. Shrieking, the beast thrusted its searing antlers towards the two unfortunates in an attempt to skewer them. Alvotolini dove one way and Giancarlo dove the other, disappearing beneath the surface with violent splashes. In the single second Alvotolini lay there, struggling back up to stand, silent horror raced up his back as more beings steadily approached to caress him. He broke through the surface of the water and fired haphazardly. One being came apart and melted back into the lagoon whilst the others darted away. Whether they remained in their watery graves was not his concern for as long as they kept away from him.
Alvotolini turned. Giancarlo evaded the beast’s attacks, fighting both it and the water, whilst the beings converged on the opposite side. Alvotolini levelled his weapon and fired. The watery marauders scattered, shrieking and laughing. The sounds of revelry and death clashed, intermitted by gunfire. The foreboding silence from before the encounter proved far more preferable to the pandemonium of the moment.
Don’t get stuck, keep pushing forward!
Alvotolini hobbled ahead, taking a wide berth around the beast. He knew bullets did little to the marauder and were better spent holding off the soothing touch of the shimmering sycophants. The thought of letting Giancarlo take all the attention from the beast sickened him yet he knew Giancarlo’s movement wasn’t being hindered by injury or fatigue.
Alvotolini glanced over as he hobbled towards freedom. Giancarlo dove and ducked out the way of each of the beast’s swings, rattling off shots at the encroaching beings behind him. The beast fired a wooden javelin from its chest cannon and missed Giancarlo, skewering a being and collapsing them into a puddle.
Alvotolini shifted his gaze to the darkness. A swarm of glistening sprites shambled forth, malicious giggles serenading their arrival. Their lumbering gait offered the two survivors room to evade their touch yet with how quickly they darted away from reprisal, it seemed more out of playfulness than necessity. They revelled in the prolonged chase.
Alvotolini could only hope none blockaded the straight shot to the portal.
We just have to—
He felt it. For a moment, everything ceased. Thought, sensation, existence…all put on hold for a split second. As quickly as that deprivation had come, it returned. It was as if someone had turned the lights off and back on again. The monotone German voice spoke again, unintelligible amidst the chaos.
We’re running out of time. It’s collapsing.
Alvotolini pulled ahead and turned to see a group of beings advance towards the beast. As it went to deliver a searing lash at Giancarlo, the beings converged and placed their gentle hands upon its sides. The beast looked down and, with a roar, took to decimating the converging hordes. Swinging left and right, it cleaved the assailants apart only for more to rise from the shallows at the back of the congregation. While some still pursued Giancarlo, most placed their focus upon the towering monstrosity.
“Run!” Alvotolini yelled. “Move!”
Giancarlo wasted no time. He splashed through the water, firing off behind him to keep his pursuers at bay. Alvotolini turned to keep moving but was confronted by a being making its way to his position. He levelled his pistol and fired.
Click.
Alvotolini’s face fell.
Of all the sounds he didn’t want to hear in the midst of such a terrible situation, chief among them was the fatal resignation of an empty weapon.
“Get back, you bastard!” he screamed. Alvotolini tossed the pistol full force into the being’s face, splitting it apart. He strode forwards, grunting and hissing, with eyes set upon the light in the distance. It grew larger with every step. Hope of survival, of seeing the terrible ordeal through, ballooned in size.
A pair of hands upon his ankles sealed his fate.
Alvotolini yelled out as he tripped, plunging below the surface. He tried to push himself up but a new set of hands were upon his side, coaxing him to lay down. He flailed and turned onto his back, swinging blindly, yet the persisting giggling told him he had hit nothing. His fatigue mounted, his pain subsided, and with alarming speed his temptation to give up grew. One of the beings pinned him to the floor by the shoulders, the weight of its gentle touch rivalling that of mountains, and Alvotolini could do nothing but gaze up into its face. The horrid featureless envisage glared at him for a few seconds, relishing in his suffering, before it all began to change. Eyes formed. A snout pushed forward. Fur grew over freshly-knit flesh. The water bubbled away.
He could breathe.
He was there again.
Alvotolini lay on his side. The song of the cicadas beyond the open window of the bedroom, accompanied with the radiant moonlight filtering in, soothed him. The discomfort of his armour and uniform was no more. Instead, he felt the comfort of thin sheets drawn up around his waist and plump pillows beneath his head. He felt the enveloping warmth of a Mediterranean summer.
He felt his one love in his arms.
The Daschund lay on his side facing Alvotolini, arms tucked into his chest and eyes lovingly resting upon him. The sheets rested against his body, outlining his thin frame beneath the material. His chest rose and fell steadily.
Alvotolini stared, eyes welling up.
“Caldi?”
Caldi raised one arm up and caressed the side of Alvotolini’s face, wiping away a tear.
“You’re home again,” Caldi said, his soft voice a bliss upon the ears. “It’s been so long.”
“I…I don’t…”
“It’s okay. I understand why.”
Alvotolini took Caldi’s face in both paws. It didn’t seem real. The face of his love, of his true best friend, of his kindred spirit…it had to be some manner of phantom or ghoul. Yet, with trepidation, Alvotolini discovered that was not the case. Between his paws, gazing at him ever lovingly, was the one thing that had tethered him with purpose and meaning to the earth.
Alvotolini’s face crumpled as tears ran down his face.
“I’m so sorry.”
Caldi shushed him, pulling the crying feline into him.
“My love, don’t be,” Caldi said. “I always understood what you had to do.”
“I left you. I hurt you.”
“No you didn’t. Your ambition, your love…it was always bigger than us.”
“It shouldn’t have been. I shouldn’t have given it all up for…for—”
“For a better world, Luci.”
“I don’t give a shit about a better world if it’s not with you. I don’t.”
Caldi smiled. “You’re too selfless for that. That’s okay. What we had…it was beautiful while we had it.”
Alvotolini opened his mouth to speak – to beg and plead for it all to come back – but bubbles poured out. He gagged and choked, words getting stuck in his throat as water pushed past, and the world disappeared. Caldi, the moon, the cicadas…all returned to the watery nothingness it had once come from.
Alvotolini gasped as he was pulled to the surface, flailing at nothing.
“What the fuck?” he screamed. “What the—”
“Get up!” Giancarlo yelled. “Get up, get up!”
Giancarlo shoved Alvotolini in the direction of the portal. Alvotolini stumbled and rebalanced, turning back to see what carnage had passed. An army of approaching beings advanced on the flailing beast, dregs moving past and giving chase to the two survivors. Giancarlo battered and swung at the enemy with the butt of his rifle, screaming as he did so.
“I’m right here, you disgusting pieces of shit!” he screamed. “Kill me! Kill me!”
Before Alvotolini could intervene, the phantasmic water overwhelmed the zealous warrior. Giancarlo was set upon by tens of spirits that shoved him down into the shallows, spilling over one another to keep him in place. He continued to flail and swing, doing his best to fight back, but he could not hope to resist the overpowering force.
“Gian!” Alvotolini screamed.
He took one step forward before realising the foolishness of the errand. More beings spilled forth and lumbered towards him, raucous laughter signalling his doom. Alvotolini took a step back, eyes wide, and knew an attempt to reciprocate Giancarlo’s sacrifice would be futile for both of them.
With tail between his legs, he turned and ran. He pushed through the excruciation, through the ceaseless fatigue, and sprinted for the only chance he had of survival. The light of the portal beckoned him, urged him to keep going, and he heeded its call.
An animalistic shriek cut through it all and, not half a second later, rapid stomping steps followed. The beast thundered after him, roaring and wailing. Alvotolini didn’t dare look behind. He forced the last few dregs of energy from his failing body, yelling as he blinked in and out of collapsing existence. As his consciousness folded in on itself, as his sensation disappeared, he flung himself forward at the portal and let out a maddened scream of terror and despair.
…
An unyielding silence held dominion over the forest. Nothing moved between the trees. Not a sound was made. A realm of shadows lurked beneath the thick canopy, casting all in darkness. Not even a slither of moonlight graced the ground.
But out east, flat plains free from the despotic shadow of the trees, light crept over the horizon. It was no more than faint pink bleeding into the night sky, highlighting the clouds and obscuring the stars, yet it highlighted the three descending black dots. As they lowered to the ground, the sound of spinning blades chopping through the air became louder. The grass and flora shook, struck repeatedly by the numerous shockwaves of the rotors. The minute-long descent concluded with the three helicopters setting down shy of the forest’s border, dropping the rear doors mere seconds after landing. From the bellies of the metal beasts came a platoon of figures clad in blue fatigues and black armour, filing out the back and making a quick effort to spread out. Every step taken by all was a pre-planned part of a meticulous plan, guiding the teams to positions facing the forest. Soldiers ducked behind small hills or lay down in the open, guns levelled at the plant labyrinth.
“Set!” someone yelled.
“We’re set!” another relayed.
A three-person team of troops disembarked from one of the helicopters. Two heaved along a fearsome machine gun whilst the third followed with boxes of ammunition in tow. With training to guide their paws, the team placed the machine gun and loaded it in seconds. The two operators lay down beside it whilst the third rushed off into cover.
Lascarone watched it all through the camera mounted upon Kangli’s helmet, standing beside Supervisor Glenscoe.
“A bit earlier than dawn,” he muttered.
“More time for the survivors to get to their position,” Glenscoe said.
“And more time for any Neowehrmacht to shoot down another helicopter. Let me speak to Kangli.”
An operator passed the receiver to Lascarone. He took it and spoke.
“Kangli, Lascarone here.”
A second passed before a voice crackled through.
“We’re all in position, sir.”
“The helicopters are killing their engines?”
Movement on the screen as Kangli looked over her shoulder. The rotor blades were slowing and the engines were quietening.
“The transports are turning off now, yes.”
“You keep an eye on that treeline for any movement. We don’t know who else is in there.”
“What if they don’t come out, sir?”
“We’ll see to that when it comes to it. Trigger discipline, please.”
He passed the receiver back to the officer, rubbing his face.
“If we don’t get any response from the team, I need you to see if we can get a jet to pass overhead,” Lascarone said to Glenscoe.
“Tall order.”
“You’re not wrong. Regardless, I need you to see what strings you can pull. I want a back-up plan in place if we have to send people in there.”
“On it, Bridge Officer.”
Lascarone nodded and fixated his gaze upon the screen again. He stared at the treeline with the team, eyes peeled for any movement.
Come on. Come on.
…
From that momentary cessation of sensation came the familiar feeling of warm water against his body. He floated on the surface of a motionless lagoon, not a single ripple disturbing him. He could see and hear nothing. He couldn’t move.
And then it all came to an end.
Alvotolini yelled as the portal spat him out. He rolled across the ground until he came to a sudden stop a metre or so away, lying on his side with one leg curled up into his stomach. He groaned and hissed as his broken tail wailed, heaving air in and out.
Through tear-blurred eyes, he saw a world of darkness.
He felt grass against his fur.
He felt a light breeze wave across his face.
He sat up and looked around.
Trees. Flora. An open night sky above.
He was back in the real world.
His celebration started with a stunned guffaw. Then it persisted into a chuckle. Then a hearty laugh. Within a few seconds, the team leader descended into a fit of maddened cackles. Tears streamed from his eyes as he fell onto his back and laughed away his agony. The team leader’s thoughts came broken and fraught with mania, incomprehensible even to himself under the severity of such delirium. It was a sad victory where he lay alone with but his injuries to accompany him.
A guttural noise brought that victory to a close.
Alvotolini’s celebration ceased. His eyes widened. He looked in the direction of the noise.
Pushing itself up onto its trembling legs, flesh and root falling from its body and disintegrating into nothing, the beast regarded the sole survivor with a deathly gaze. Its fearsome shriek was weak, a sign that the crude magic holding it together was failing under the duress of its own malignant existence, yet it shambled towards him with an immortal desire to kill and maim.
“N-no,” Alvotolini said, crawling back. “Stay back. S-stay back!”
The beast raised one arm. As steaming meat melted away, a searing lash formed in its wretched hand. The glowing red weapon illuminated the clearing.
He had nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
“You bastard!” Alvotolini screamed, sending spittle flying. “You rotten piece of shit! You don’t belong here!”
The beast stepped forward to deliver Alvotolini’s swift demise. The feline shielded his head. It was a cowardly act at the end of his life, to be so feeble and scared after all the last few hours had brought his way, but he had no more strength to fight. All those he loved were gone. Perhaps an end such as this was the most mercy life would ever grant him.
Fate had other ideas.
A root shot up from the dirt and snatched the beast’s atrophying wrist, holding the killing blow in place. A second shot up and pierced the beast’s elbow, exiting the other side and wrapping around the shattered joint. The two roots ripped the arm clean off, pulling it deep into the soil. Another shot towards the beast’s throat, wrapped around its head, and snapped its neck at a ninety-degree angle before ripping it off. More plant brethren emerged from the soil and took to the foul beast with lethal efficiency, tearing parts away like it was a broken-down car. Within seconds the fearsome marauder was no more.
Alvotolini watched as, with a muffled shriek, the roots pulled all traces of its hideous existence below the soil where none could ever find it.
Silence.
Alvotolini sat there, chest heaving as he stared at where the creature once stood.
“Luciano.”
Alvotolini yelped and whirled around, scurrying back.
A pair of golden eyes leered from the shadow of the forest.
“That barbaric machine is no more. You need not fear its wrath.”
Alvotolini said nothing. He just stared, lost in an aftermath that assailed him on all sides.
From the shadows, easing into the light with a graceful gait, came their mysterious employer.
They stood tall, high enough that their ears could brush against the tree branches. The face of an arctic fox regarded Alvotolini with an affectionate smile. A white mane of great volume sat cushioned around the neck. A long maroon robe cloaked their sleek figure, with cognac-coloured open sleeves running down their long arms and a skirt that reached the floor. A pair of proud antlers protruded from their head, adding yet another bizarre feature to their peculiar appearance.
The Autumn Lord in the flesh.
“It is rather liberating to finally make my appearance known,” the Autumn Lord smiled. “Especially to you, dear Luciano.”
The sight brought rage more than relief. Alvotolini, yelling, grabbed a rock and hurled it.
“You piece of shit! You lying piece of shit!”
The rock did not make it far. A root shot up and snatched the projectile mid-air, tossing it aside.
“You lied to us!” Alvotolini screamed. “You sent us in there to die! Y-you…you played us like a bunch of fucking idiots!”
The Autumn Lord’s affectionate smile disappeared. They donned a neutral expression but, for a moment so brief that few would notice, remorse flickered over their face.
“What magic people are you?” Alvotolini screamed. “So powerful and mighty and yet you need a bunch of mortals to do your dirty work for you! What fucking gods are you if you’re not powerful enough to fix your own stupid affairs?”
He locked eyes with the Autumn Lord.
“You’re no lord if all you can do is look after an empty fucking forest and trick mortal people into fixing everything for you. You’re nothing!”
Not a word from the Autumn Lord.
Alvotolini fell onto his side. No longer did he cry tears of delirious laughter. Instead he lay there, curled up into a ball, and wailed. He cried and sobbed and wept like a lost kit. A better life flashed in front of him, as well as the nine lives that had been thrown away so callously.
“I want to go home,” he sobbed, trembling. “Please let me go home.”
“Oh,” the Autumn Lord sighed. “Oh, goodness, dear Luciano.”
“Please don’t kill me.”
The Autumn Lord hurried to his side, stooping down and easing him up into a sitting position. Their touch was so soft yet issued a firmness that provided stability, that promised to remain. Alvotolini, in seconds, felt remarkably more at ease. His thoughts became clearer.
“Dear Luciano, I would never harm you,” the Autumn Lord said. “I would not lay so much as a digit upon you if it was to be done with malice. What is it you desire? To go home?”
Alvotolini nodded, sniffling.
“Then it is done.”
A root eased through the dirt and unravelled to reveal the functioning emergency transponder and radio, easing it down onto the floor beside Alvotolini before disappearing again.
“There, you see?” the Autumn Lord said. “Dawn is soon to arrive. Rescue shall come. All I ask is you speak nothing of my kind.”
Alvotolini sat still, unsure what to say. It didn’t feel right.
“But it is not just yourself you worry about,” the Autumn Lord said.
Alvotolini shook his head.
“I see,” the Autumn Lord said. “Your friends mean much to you.”
“Please let them go,” Alvotolini croaked. “They’re good people.”
“How can I be certain our meeting remains secret, dear Luciano?”
“I’ll make sure they won’t tell anyone. I mean it.”
The Autumn Lord thought for a moment before speaking. “I propose a solution, if you would hear it.”
“O-okay.”
“I bring your friends here. I remedy all their injuries and wounds…and I erase their memory of this incident. All they will know is that they waited for rescue and rescue eventually came.”
“Even Max—”
“Even your friend’s arm, yes.”
“And what about the objective?”
Another root appeared, pulling up a damaged container before disappearing. The Autumn Lord opened the lid to reveal a broken weapon inside.
“A dud. A failed project. All shall be explained away with ease to your people.”
“And what about me?” Alvotolini said.
The Autumn Lord’s affectionate smile returned. They eased one gentle hand against the side of Alvotolini’s face. The team leader tensed in anticipation before relaxing against it, closing his eyes.
So warm.
“You’ll awake back home. Safe. You’ll remember everything…and that’s because I’d like to see you again.”
Alvotolini eased his eyes open. “Again?”
“On far more friendly terms. A weekend with me here and there. Nothing insidious, I assure you.”
Alvotolini had his doubts, ones no doubt visible to the deal’s proprietor, but he knew to decline would be to value his life above those of his comrades. He nodded.
“I’ll do it.”
The Autumn Lord let out a relieved sigh.
“Brilliant. I truly believe you and I shall have great times together. Please do make a concerted effort to not perish on future missions, Luciano. I would hate to see something awful befall you.”
The Autumn Lord raised one hand, index finger and thumb poised to snap.
“Until next time.”
Alvotolini looked at the hand, confused.
“Wai—”
Too late.
…
A blink and the world had changed once more. Sterile white walls all around, linoleum floor below and a grey ceiling above. Monitors and equipment beeped steadily. Muted chatter came from left and right.
Alvotolini groaned, shielding his eyes.
My head.
He lay on a hospital bed, resting on his side. His head no longer pulsed with maddening pain and his tail no longer screamed for mercy. He felt well-rested, albeit overshadowed by a groggy mind. He didn’t need to look around to know that he had been returned to one of the airship’s numerous medical wings, a trip that he was unfortunately familiar with on multiple counts.
It all meant one thing.
We survived.
Groaning, he attempted to turn over. His tail yelled at him to stay in place and he abided by its scolding.
“Hey, he’s awake,” a familiar voice muttered.
Alvotolini frowned as a set of steps came around the base of the bed and stopped in front of him. The frown soon dissipated and, in its place, a proud grin formed.
They were alive. All of them. Unmolested by bullet, monster or danger. They stood in casual clothes, ditching the utility of armour and fatigues for the immortal comfort of baggy hoodies and warm jumpers.
“Hey sir,” Maxim smiled. “Had a good rest?”
Alvotolini’s gaze darted to his arm. A fleshy appendage met his eyes.
“I’m okay,” Alvotolini sighed. “What happened?”
“You passed out,” Aelwin said. “We spent the night staying put, like you said. Dawn came and rescue grabbed us.”
Alvotolini examined her face. Her eyes shone bright, only somewhat dulled by the tragic loss of their comrades, and he was glad to see not a speck of dirt there.
“You’re hard to carry, sir,” Alex said.
Alvotolini looked her way. The soldier’s face was solemn, her once jovial attitude smote by despair, but he was glad to see not a trace of immobilising wood in sight.
“Who helped?” Alvotolini said.
“I helped carry you, sir,” Giancarlo said. “It was a team effort throughout the night, though.”
Alvotolini nodded, relieved to see them all there.
“I’m…sorry.”
“For what, sir?” Aelwin said.
“That it’s not all of us.”
The team’s faces fell solemn. Alex looked away.
“We did what we could,” Maxim said. “They found the wreckage today. Everything’s being pulled out.”
“The box?” Alvotolini said.
“Nothing,” Alex said. “Broken parts for repair.”
He could sense the mirth in her voice, the resentment that people had died for nothing, and found the stinging drawback of their mercifully-erased memory.
It wasn’t all pointless.
“And the extraction?” Alvotolini asked.
“Going without a hitch, apparently,” Aelwin said.
“Good. That’s good.”
“You feeling okay, sir?” Maxim said.
“Just…happy. Happy we made it through that bad situation.”
All nodded yet none said anything. Their survival and reunion was bitter sweet. So many personalities and voices that should have been there weren’t and the hole they left was gaping.
“I need to get some sleep,” Alex said. “Is that okay, sir?”
“Absolutely,” Alvotolini nodded. “All of you get some rest. I’m sure Lascarone wants to talk to me soon, anyway. Go enjoy your free time.”
Alex stormed off, silent. All gazes followed her for a moment before Aelwin turned back to the group.
“I’ll go check on her before meeting up with you.”
“Sounds good,” Maxim said. “Let her know we’re all available to talk.”
Aelwin nodded and followed Alex.
“Well then,” Maxim said, slapping Giancarlo’s arm. “First round on me?”
“How can I say no?” Giancarlo said. “You owe me, anyway.”
“For what?”
“Offering someone trying to quit smoking a cigarette. That’s evil.”
“How was I meant to know?”
“We can discuss it over that drink you owe me.”
“Pfft, okay. I’ll go grab something from my barracks and see you in fifteen?”
“Sounds good.”
Maxim waved to Alvotolini and headed off. Giancarlo turned.
“You want me to bring you anything, sir?”
“Last thing I need is a bottle of spirit in me,” Alvotolini scoffed. “You go enjoy your drink, I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Hmm…maybe a book? Anything you’re not reading.”
“Of course. I have something I was reading the other day, it’s a good time.”
Alvotolini smiled. He stared into the face of the brave soul that had saved him from a cruel fate, a soldier that had kept them both going through a realm of insanity, and a friend that had weathered the storm with courage in lieu of terrible and worsening odds.
Giancarlo frowned.
“You okay there, sir?”
“Yeah, the morphine is doing wonders,” Alvotolini smiled. “I’m fine, don’t worry. Go enjoy yourself.”
Giancarlo nodded, patted the team leader on the shoulder, and walked off.
Alvotolini sighed and closed his eyes. After such tumult, being able to appreciate the experience of simply being alive was a luxury. To lie still and not fret about the world, to look calmly inwards instead of fearfully outwards, mended a wounded part of himself.
He was at peace.
Until, seconds later, his pocket rumbled.
Frowning, Alvotolini shifted position and reached into the pocket of his hospital garments. From the depths he plundered a bronze engraved pendant. It shone brilliantly under the fluorescent lights of the medical wing and dazzled the eyes of the team leader. He flicked it open.
A shimmering portal, no bigger than the tip of his digit, resided within the pendant’s frame. The sight roused some alarm in Alvotolini, who glared in anticipation of something reaching out and yanking him back into that maddening dimension.
Instead, a voice of familiar sweet affection spoke to him. It disappeared into his ear and sat at the very centre of his mind, an illustrious tone only he could hear.
My dear Luciano…I am relieved to know of your continuing recovery. After such an ordeal, it is only reasonable to desire long respite. I am delighted to know of your team’s good health and issue sincere condolences for the losses I could not repair.
I speak to you now to remind you of our agreement. Say nothing of our transaction to no one. You fell unconscious from continued exertion and cannot remember a thing of that fateful night. Stick to this alibi and, I assure you, none shall have to bear the burden of the horrid experiences you all underwent.
Alvotolini froze as he felt a phantom hand caress the side of his face.
Rest. When the time is right, you and I shall convene once more in the hopes of creating great things from unfortunate roots.
The phantom hand’s presence vanished. The shimmering portal faded and the pendant eased shut. Alvotolini stared, flummoxed, before stuffing the object back into his trouser pocket.
“Luci?”
Alvotolini looked left. Lascarone approached, clad in uniform, and stopped at the base of his bed.
“Sergio,” Alvotolini smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Just a routine check, I’m afraid. Our usual meetings will have to wait. A lot happened down there. The doctor says you’re on the mend.”
“It feels like it.”
“That’s good, that’s good.”
Alvotolini said nothing. Lascarone frowned.
“Are you okay? You seem on edge.”
“I’m as good as I can be,” Alvotolini said. “You’re right, a lot of bad happened down there. But right now…”
He thought of his team, of their continued ability to enjoy all that life could bring them, as he patted the pendant in his pocket.
“…right now I’m thinking about what’s to come and knowing, whatever I have to do, it’s all for good measure.”
THE END