Ayla the Titan

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: February 08, 2016

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Submitted: February 08, 2016

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Ayla the Titan, by Brent Laukwell

 

“Wake up. We have to get moving before the Fallen catch us.”

These are the first words that Ayla has heard in a long time, at least she thinks that’s her name. Opening her eyes, she realizes she is sprawled out in the back of a car. She then looks up to see who her awakener was, but all she sees is a floating piece of geometry.

“We should get inside before they find us.”

So this ball is who, or better put, what, was talking to her.

“W-wait. Wh-where am I?” Her throat feels coarse and stings a bit while she struggles to get these words out, it has been a long time since she talked, after all.

“I’m afraid there’s no time. I will explain everything later,” the ball says hurriedly. “Follow me.”

With that, he?- It has a male voice, so it must be a he, Ayla decides- He zooms inside the building with an urgency that compels Ayla to catch up and keep close behind him.

Ayla catches up, and the ball tells her to grab that gun in the corner.

“Umm, no. . . I don’t want something that dangerous.”

“Don’t you understand?! They will kill you if you don’t do what I say! Now grab that gun and follow me!”

Reluctantly, she grabs the auto rifle and follows the ball. She probably won’t have to use it anyways, right? After following the ball through a maze of dimly lit hallways, he suddenly stops.

“Shh. You hear that? There’s some Fallen around the corner. Get ready to fight them,” the ball whispers.

“Wait. Can’t we just go past them? If we leave them alone they will leave us alone, right?”

The ball sighs. “What part of ‘kill you’ did you not understand? These guys are not friendly. At all.”

“So you want me to go out there and shoot at them?”

“Exactly.”

“I- I’m not sure I can do this.” Her voice trembles with anxiety.

“You have to. Who knows what they will do to you, if they keep you alive, that is.”

With no other choice, Ayla inhales deeply, holds that breathe in, and slowly peers around the corner. Her view of them is obstructed, but there are definitely two people behind that rubble in the hallway.

She slowly creeps towards them. Each step feels like she is moving mountains, each second feels like an eternity. After what feels like forever, she is only about three quarters of the way to them. She is so focused on the two people behind the rubble that she doesn’t even notice the rusty tin can that she knocks over with her foot. The clanking of the can on the floor sounds earth-shattering to Ayla. She hears some animalistic grunts from behind the rubble, and out come the two……

MONSTERS! Four-armed, tall, foreign creatures! Ayla lets out a blood-curdling scream of pure terror, and the monsters ready their weapons. Unfortunately, the gun in Ayla’s hands has become seemingly weightless and is the furthest thing from her mind. Panicking, not knowing what to do, the gun falls from her hands onto the floor, but she doesn’t hear it. She sees the two monsters shoot at her, but it doesn’t register for a few seconds. Then it hits her.

Burning. Pain. A cruel fire lighting in her left leg and chest, whose furious tongues travel throughout her body with no remorse. She finally realizes she has been shot, twice. She screams again, this time a scream of pain instead of fear. She doesn’t know what to do. She is going to die here. She wants nothing more than to be nonexistent, to make all this go away. The monsters, the guns, the talking ball, everything. And so she does.

By some instinct that was locked inside the deepest depths of her very essence, something she never had any clue that she had, Ayla puts her arms up, despite the pain in her chest, and motions them towards the sides of her body.

Ayla then drops to the ground and rocks back and forth, crying, eyes forced shut, wanting to die. Wanting this to be some twisted dream that she is just having difficulty waking from. But the tears continue streaming down and her breathing is still coming in irregular, harsh gasps. Despite this, she feels a faint warmth. She slowly opens her eyes.

Blue. Warm. Quiet. Surrounding her is a bubble of radiant blue, warming Ayla to her very core. She can hear nothing but her breathing. She feels safe. She is still in pain, but this blue capsule assures her that she will be fine.

Until she hears the muffled shots of bullets assaulting the bubble. She faces the direction of the monsters again, and her worst suspicion is confirmed: they are still there. Over and over, these monsters shoot at the bubble, their bullets being absorbed into the blue light, but where they have shot multiple times, it looks almost weaker. The bullets are very slowly wearing down her sanctuary. Ayla sees that she does not have long until this barrier between them breaks, and she herself breaks down again, rocking back and forth on the floor while holding her head in her lap with her hands interlocked on the back of her head.

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. This can’t be happening. They can’t be real.”

Ayla says these phrases over and over again. She holds onto the phrases with every last bit of her sanity. Even still, the bubble wears down. The monsters are relentless, and in only a matter of seconds, Ayla will be exposed again. She shuts her eyes even harder and prepares for the end.

But it doesn’t come.

The shooting stops.

Cautiously, Ayla opens her eyes. She sees three people outside the decrepit bubble looming over the dead corpses of the monsters. The stress, pain, and trauma are all too much for Ayla, and she passes out, her bubble collapsing at the same time she does. 


© Copyright 2018 Brent Laukwell. All rights reserved.

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