Page 9 of The General’s Captive (The Rift #1)

The General.

True name unknown.

Appearance – Very Tall. Well built. Black hair. Dark, soulless eyes. Chiseled jaw. Looks like sin incarnate. Annoyingly handsome… seriously annoying.

Kill rate – Class One

Strengths – Commands an army of monsters (so yeah, not great).

Weaknesses – Unknown.

Notes: Could be the Devil?

A s I looked down at my journal, and all the changes I had made over the years, a sigh followed.

It felt like a lifetime ago that I skipped those first five pages of my old life and started a new one.

I don’t remember when it was that I ripped them out in anger an unwanted reminder of my past life.

A life that, at this point, I knew I would never get back.

It was simply all about survival now. Making it from one day to the next being the twenty-four-hour end game.

That hope I once had was long gone. I wasn’t sure exactly when it happened…

Could have been after the first six months, the first year…

sometime in the next two after that. Most likely, it was when they had finished…

The Wall.

This was the American government’s solution to the outbreak of those now known as ‘The Myths’.

No longer monsters, creatures, or beasts, and, thank fuck, people had stopped calling them aliens.

They were the Myths and we were The Forsaken.

That had been the line drawn in the sand by the rest of the world.

I hadn’t thought much about it the day I first heard the word coming from The General, and I had no idea how the term for us had made it out to the rest of the world.

It was something the media had latched onto pretty quickly, though.

Especially as more and more blockades, barricades, and any other fucking ‘cades’ popped up to stop us from making it to safety.

They called it too much of a risk. Even going so far as trying to make the world believe we might be infected by the Rift or some shit.

We called it bullshit.

While we were here, left barely trying to survive, they were building a fucking wall to ensure that they would remain safe.

Because wouldn’t you know it, the whole of America had come together to ensure the safety of its boarders.

The whole country’s resources poured into it, to ensure it would get built…

to eliminate the threat to the outside world completely.

It was the biggest undertaking the US had ever taken, with funds coming in to help from the rest of the world.

Their own governments having been convinced that, if they didn’t, then the potential was the Myths branching out further.

In the beginning, the biggest concern with this was centered around the winged creatures.

However, for some reason, they never ventured too far from the actual Rift itself.

The conclusion was that they gained some sort of power source they needed to feed on. The land Myths, however, were a different story and no one knew why. In fact, there wasn’t much we did know about the Myths, only that those stuck trying to survive life inside the wall knew how to kill them.

Myself included.

Because I had gathered all the information I could on them.

My journal had become much more than just a field guide by this point, but more like a bible on survival.

And I had become pretty good at it. Then again, a lot had happened in the last three years.

In fact, when I thought back to my earlier days I wondered how the hell I had survived at all.

Long gone was the girl who kept her weapons in a bag or thought waving around a knife and hoping for the best was a good idea.

To be honest, most of those first six months had felt more like dumb fucking luck.

Especially after thousands had died… Half of them, most likely, by our own kind, whether it had been the government issued ‘shoot on sight’ order when trying to climb the fences, or by people willing to kill for a can of gas or a gun and six bullets.

I saw one guy kill another just over a fucking candy bar once.

The term survival of the fittest became a fucking joke for some people, because it was more like survival of the evilest. Human decency was a thing of the past for most. People tossed away their moral compasses for as little as a can of soup.

But then there were those of us who had managed to keep our humanity and form groups, where strength in numbers became a thing.

A place where we could live a semblance of a life.

And when the nights were at their darkest and we were picking ourselves up after a friend’s death, or a bad attack, there were those of us who were grateful to have survived.

And then there were those of us who wondered why they didn’t just fucking bomb us by now.

We all knew there were those in the government who wanted to but as much as they tried to hide people had drones.

They had seen too much to know there were still thousands of survivors spread out across the land which meant there were human rights groups out there who had become a voice for us.

They filled the streets with protesters and spoke at congress, on our behalf.

They refused to let the government act against us.

All of which gave some of us hope.

Not me though.

I had seen too much to lose hope in humanity, to believe they would ever have our best interests at heart. The ones who were in charge of our fate weren’t the ones with their lives on the line.

I feared the Myths, as anyone should, but I feared the world leaders more. Although, it did have to be said that there was one person I feared more than both of these things.

The General.

I shivered just thinking of him, the man who had conquered my dreams more and more with each year that passed…

usually after the times I had caught sight of him.

And there had been numerous occasions these past three years, whether it was from a distance or when I was hiding from him, like I had that first time.

Seeing him was like a catalyst.

What was more concerning was when the nature of these dreams began to change.

At first it was him standing at the cabin, but instead of letting me go, he would leap onto the winged creature I know knew as a Gryphon.

Or sometimes even worse, the fabled dragon that most of us had never seen.

Then he would fly over to me and land in front of the truck.

For a while, the dreams ended there. But then it evolved into him dismounting the beast and striding over to me with purpose.

Sometimes, he disappeared the moment he reached the driver’s side of the truck.

Other times, he actually pulled me out and into his arms. He would call me something in a foreign language, before collaring my throat and keeping me captive as he kissed me.

Claiming my lips and slipping in his tongue the second I gasped.

Each one forced me to feel things I wish I didn’t.

His hands would grow impatient, sometimes tearing at my clothes, sometimes lifting me up so we were equal in height before he would then deepen the kiss.

It was maddening.

Like a curse.

I could barely go a day without thinking about him.

I would catch myself and feel ashamed for the rest of the day. At least when sleeping I told myself that I had no control, but when I was awake, there was no excuse.

He was the enemy.

And speaking of enemies, the second I heard the first of the sirens, I closed my book and, with it, the face I had secretly drawn too many times, filling precious pages with elements of his handsome image.

Like some fucking teenage crush. I loathed myself as much as I couldn’t help it.

Nor could I bring myself to tear them up like I know I should have.

I slipped the journal into my private box, something that everyone at the base had. It had a lock and a key, and my name written across the top in marker. Along with the warning…

‘Touch my shit and see what happens’

With my journal secured, I stormed out of the dorm straight into hell.

Not my hell, but for the people screaming and running to safety, it was certainly theirs.

I walked calmly and observed as people continued to scream and run in the opposite direction to where I was going.

My scars burned all over and all I wanted to do was relieve the pain by scratching them.

“Alex! Run! You need to run!” A civilian grabbed my arm, sheer panic on her face. As she pulled me with her, I dug my feet into the ground and wrenched my arm from her grasp.

“Let go!” I snapped angrily. She gawked at me like she wanted to say something more, but I turned away from her, continuing on toward whatever evil was terrorizing the base this time—the place I now called my home.

Smoke rose in the near distance, and I could smell something burning, but I couldn’t see a fire. Pulling out my radio, I pressed the button and said,

“Come in. Alex here. Anyone got a visual yet? Over.”

Static sounded before a deep man’s voice came through, it was sharp and confident but also held a hint of breathlessness.

“Alex, it’s Brad! Location of creature is at the south wall. We have a class three. I repeat, we have a class three, a Chimera on base. Over.”

“In other words, get the fuck out there and stop it before it turns everyone to toast crispies. Over,” I joked, making him sigh.

“Something like that. Over.”

“On my way. ETA, two minutes. I have to grab something but you get the Goat Bombs. Remember, focus on that fucking goat! Over,” I ordered, clipping the radio back to the pocket of my camouflage combat pants before sprinting the way I had come.

I headed straight back to the dorm for my secret weapon.

Brad’s voice called over the radio after thirty seconds.

“I’m in stores but can’t find the Goat Bombs. Over.”