The Secondary Saga

[Strazio Rockwell]

Exhausted.

Exhaustion did not even begin to describe what Isaac was feeling in that moment. His aged body and weathered bones railed against him. Every movement was an exercise in discipline, an exercise he was not sure he could continue. Roger was in worse shape than him, the boulder had damaged him severely. Isaac’s mind wandered back to the battlefield. Every Sector 8 operative was trained in first-aid, but this injury was well beyond Isaac’s knowledge of medicine. Feverishly he worked at the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding and bring his ally back to reality.

“Wake up” he spoke quickly “come on, come on you bastard.”

The sound of battle echoed in the air and again his mind wandered to the battlefield. Memories of long-slain allies danced in his exhausted head. How many of his allies had taken their last breath in his hands? Even his own wife had died cradled in his arm. The thought of death forced a deep knot into his gut. Even though every death was now a faded memory, he was still unable to forget.

BANG

A shotgun blast snapped him back from his fugue state. He couldn’t afford to get distracted at a time like this. Every moment was valuable and Isaac resolved not to waste any more time. The Bloodlance looked at Zora and then back at Roger. Finally he took a longing look at the approaching horde of undead. Small tendrils of blood wormed their way from his stump and lashed about violently. They had to move and find the others, one of them had to be a doctor of some sort.

“Zora, I need your help” he spoke sharply.

The pokemon’s ears perked up in response to Isaac’s request “yes?”

“I’m not strong enough to carry him, but you are. We have to get moving and I’m going to help clear a path, can you take care of him?” he didn’t wait for her to answer before standing up and moving towards Clayton and Klaud.

Time seemed to slow down as Isaac’s eyes focused on the oncoming horde. His sharp eyes watched the shambling monster emerge from the tainted forest. They weren’t alive, at least not in the traditional sense and so with this realization Isaac permitted himself to let loose. The mutated blood pumping through his veins had brought itself back to stable levels during their time in the temple and he was no longer anemic. With a sickening squelch several long ropey tendrils of blood ripped themselves from his amputated arm.

“We have to rendezvous with the others” he shouted as he walked past Klaud and Clayton “General, Hunter let’s clear a path.”

Without warning the wicked spears of blood lashed outwards. His blood stretched into several thin pointed ropes and snaked itself through the ranks of the undead. Striking like scorpions the spears punctured skulls, disabling the shamblers. Isaac watched as his twisted tool of war destroyed large swathes of the roving zombies. He focused his strikes to create distance between his comrades and the encroaching force.