2030, Castle Copernicus, The Moon (2)

Roland dragged the straight razor up and down his throat in a vain attempt to be rid of the tenacious remnant hairs which clung, just out of sight, under his jaw. It was maddening. He could feel them when he ran his hand under it, but no matter how he moved his chin they were perpetually out of view. And with the blade gliding up and down his neck, Private Roland of the Castle Copurnicus Security Forces learned a valuable lesson about spending time when you are on watch. For, when the train engineer who Edward had sent to find the watch booted open the door and started screaming, Private Roland very nearly slit his own throat. And, had he died gasping on the floor, the trajectory of our story would be very different indeed. Breathing through clenched teeth, he listened to the disorganized ramblings of a terrified civilian desperate for help. Clutching his throat, he grabbed his coat and rifle.

“He told me to get someone from security I’m really sorry about your throat but this is the closest watch office and I didn’t know if this is where I’m supposed to go the depot is right this way do you think you’ll be able to catch it or what are you going to do if it gets out should I go get anyone else to help?”

Roland rolled his eyes, dividing the crowds of merchants which loitered around the southern train station hoping to prey on country folk on their first visit to the big city. The slate grey uniform did more to scatter them than his broad chest or the magazine he was double checking en route. While the clumsy engineer struggled to unbolt the second story gateway. Ignoring the deadbolt behind him, he looked down from his perch at the train below, at the old moon dust stone, and at Edward with his back to the wall listening to some idiot civvies on the other side of the door.

It was not long before Edward began to feel foolish. He had done everything he ought to, everyone got out safely, the castle was safe, and the only thing he had gotten wrong was that he was on the wrong side of the door. It’s always the small details that get you in the end. Funny how things like that sneak up on you. The quarantine doors on both ends of the track slammed shut, preventing either party from escaping.

The train depot had been a recent addition to the castle, relatively speaking, but it had that kind of fake old-architecture so that it didn’t stick out too much. They had used the same moon dust concrete that the rest of the castle walls had been built out of, rising above him to form a kind of elongated dome. The soft yellow bulbs and brightly colored maps and advertisements did little to ease the stress brought on by his ears aching to hear some hint of the Ghoul’s location. Pressing his back against a smiling buxom woman endorsing The Broken Drum café and bar, Edward edged along the scraping stone toward the nearest door, his eyes darting up and along the domed roof before falling on a soldier with the pale grey uniform of internal security. He waved, terrified to make any more noise than necessary.

Roland waved his hands in a circle. From his vantage point, nothing was moving. He peered through his rifle, waiting for the sound of skittering ghoul to fill the amphitheatre. Hoping that it would take the bait of Edward as he skulked around the corner, a sharpshooter asked to assault. Praying that Edward would have the god given sense to fall back to where he could shoot, and put a bullet right through the frail thing without killing someone’s son. His finger tensed on the trigger as he lost sight of the shooter, and he waited.

When the rifle went off, he gasped with surprise. There was the sound of a scuffle, growling, fighting, somewhere unseen, a bullet hole plinking into the dusty wall. Edward emerged, scrambling, ignoring his training and firing from the hip. The Ghoul, wounded, clambered over the train, holding its arm. Roland hesitated, watching the display from above, as the Ghoul gnashed its teeth and leapt to the relative safety of Roland’s Balcony. Instinct raised his rifle, and he fired, before feeling teeth sink into his left forearm and collapsing to the dim sound of gunfire somewhere in the distance.