Burning, scorching heat. Chains that pump venom in your veins, either hanging from your feet or your neck.
We the men are tortured as the women are used.
Sick, sick is what it is.
The words from the only escaped prisoner from The Time Of Mutiny

Chapter 5

Can't Turn Back

It was only the other night when I ran away, it was only two days ago when I was infested with this virus and I could already feel my face clamming up. I kept breathing heavily like the air was filled with soot. I hadn't a clue where I was. I was sitting in a dusty, piss smelling cafe in a swamp, what a place to sell food. I nearly sank in the bubbling water once trying to get to it, so I sat there drenched to the bone, slowly moving from side-to-side a half broken cup of green tomato soup, well that's what I ordered. There were two reasons why I never drank it, first was I didn't know where it came from, the swamp, some actual soup or, which it smelt like, from the toilets. The other was my hunger kept turning on and off, as soon as I climbed out of the swamp I felt hungry, but as I counted the number of times it blinked at me, I lost my appetite.

The cafe was freezing; the fire seemed to be struggling to climb out of the moss eaten logs. I pushed away the cup, got up from the table and walked out of the woodlouse-eaten cafe. My first casualty was about to happen. I stood on the wooden walkway and looked around, I would have loved to draw here but I didn't really feel like it. I was about to leave when I collapsed onto the walkway in pain and threw up, I didn't drink any of that soup so it can't have been that. It was... It. I wiped my mouth and walked across the rickety walkway that stood a few feet above the swampy waters. Luckily my leg had healed because of It, so I could make good distance.

I heard the door of the cafe open eerily, and from it came three men dress in leather armour with braided hair and scars specially shaped into patterns on their faces.

"Ooover theree," one loudly whispered pointing at me.
"Well," said the second plainly, "Let’s introduce ‘r selves."

All three of them drew a sword from a scabbard around their waist. I did the obvious thing and ran; anyone would if they were being chased by the Psycho Circus.

As I ran, I turned around and saw them catching up to me but they weren't running, instead they seemed to have sprouted dragonfly wings and were flying towards me. It wasn't long before they caught up with me and tackled me to the ground. The biggest one, the one that didn't say anything, held me down by the neck while the others placed their blades to my throat.

"This swamp belongs to the Psycho Circus, you are trespassing," said a sternly voiced one.

My mood had changed from depressed to cheeky.

"Why the hell would you want to have a shit hole like this anyway?" I replied, as the one of the thugs was nearly choking me.

He pushed aside the man holding me down, picked me up by the neck and pushed me against a tree, holding me up at the same time.

"The penalty for trespassing is death," he said while raising his blade, aiming it at my head. "Any last words" he added, spitting as he talked.

I would originally plead for my life but in this case, gasping for air, "Get your breath freshened," is what I said.

He gritted his teeth, letting go of my neck; but as quick as a flash my neck was sliced open from the front to the back. I was impaled, hanging by my neck. I coughed up blood and I couldn't stop. It was agony, my lips felt no breath, my veins felt no pulse. I don't really no how to explain this, I died but then again I didn't. My eyes were closed for no more than a minute. They opened rapidly, before I could see any image a blinding light covered my eyes. It lasted for a second or two and the next image I saw was a birds-eye-view of the three men routing through my bag, with me about ten feet away impaled against the tree. I thought I was dead till I saw his eyes were open.

"Shit no!" I shouted. He heard me; he twisted his neck to face me even though it was penetrated with a sword. His pupil-less white eyes glared at me and he followed with a gut-churning smirk.

Still smiling at me, my mirror counterpart pulled the sword from his neck. I could feel it grating away at my throat. He collapsed to the wooden gangway but, in no time at all, he raised up from the ground still holding the blood-coated blade. This was the first time it spoke in its ghostly hollow voice.

"Now its my turn," he stated and lunged in the air towards the squabbling thieves. The biggest one stood up to face the attacking mirror image of me but before the victim had a chance to say anything, through the forehead went the sword.
"Holy shit!" I said to myself. He pulled out the blade from the dead man's skull and swung it with such pace and speed, slashing open the stuttering thief's chest.

The last one, the one who put the blade through me, managed to disarm It, but the thief was kicked back a fair distance along the gangway. My counterpart held out his hand and magically drew back the sword to his hand, he jumped so high the birds marvelled at him. He disappeared into the air and, in an instant, crashed down to the earth holding the sword upright using the handle of it to penetrate the skull of the staggering thief.

"Give me back my body, now!" I screamed.

He flew up to me and grabbed my neck before slamming me into the knee-deep swamp, I went head first into the murk, which made me black out. I awoke submerged in bubonic green water, I picked myself up and climbed onto the gangway. The sight of the blood-soaked bodies flooded my mind with guilt; I couldn't bare it so I jumped off the gangway and ran into the forest north of the scene of butchery.

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