Dottie at Tink's Place for her flash fiction. Every Monday a new picture for the Monday Morning Flash Fiction Challenge comes up and if you want to join, post your FF on Friday. Check out her site for how to a participate. Enjoy!
The Fury of The Lost
The bells toiled their baleful dirge even at this distance.Yarel hastened her pace despite of the screaming pain from a deep gash on her side. She knew her wound had reopened after a brief skirmish with two opportunistic bandits so now blood had soaked through the bandages. She could feel her chain mail rubbing against some exposed skin.
Unfortunately, with her first aid kit empty hours ago, she will have to contend with the pain and pray she won't pass out.
Yarel bit her lip and forced herself not to sob out loud. It wouldn't do her any good if The Lost also picked up on her cries and killed her on the spot. She had to warn the people in the next town that danger is coming. The mistake her people had unleashed into the world was poised to rid them off from the face of the planet. She slowly took another deep shuddering breath and kept a wary eye out. She was careful not to bring any attention because she distinctly felt the wind wasn't on her side now.
Yarel still didn't quite understand how The Lost attacked them. No, that was wrong. It came like a swarm of bees without the buzzing. It swooped down on the victims and then they were all dead.
It was difficult remembering the facts. It was as if every drip of blood from her unattended wound had swiped off a memory too in the process.
She was on guard duty at the North Tower when an explosion from the science center rocked the area. The tremor was enough to pitch her forward and then all hell broke lose. Commands from her supervisors flew back and forth like laser fire; reports of casualties poured in like a breached dam -- chaos practically bloomed inside the command well. The veil of calm that covered city that afternoon was replaced by a blanket of terror and it relentlessly killed anything standing. Yet, a small group of scientists prevailed and managed to contain the black menace, The Lost was its name. Yarel had only received patches of their report before the scientists were killed too. She knew that The Lost was attracted to the smell of hopelessness. They somehow clamped around the unsuspecting victim and feed until there was nothing left.
She glanced warily at the darkened surroundings then brought to her lips her flask and drank some of its contents. The container was dangerously light and there was no water source available on sight! She started to falter as she stared at the long stretch of mocking sand before her. She was left to ponder what's left of her options and then knew she made a fatal mistake. The Lost had arrived slowly enshrouding her.....