DARKNESS FALLS (Revised 12/3/23)

An enormous energy wave slammed Dahl and Lockspur, sending them soaring through the air as if struck by an invisible freight train. They flailed away, tumbling wildly and landed on their backsides in the dirt. Giant tearing reverberations exploded upward, throwing massive dust clouds into the sky and a series of already weakened hull supports failed. The partially buried section buckled and millions of tons of steel and alloy, sank into the ground in an instant.

20 feet away, Dahl rolled onto her knees, scrambled around wide-eyed, saw her dirty weapon and slammed it against her shoulder. The blinding sandstorm encircling them screamed and the griunf beneath her feet rose and fell as she were standing on the deck of a yacht during a hurricane.

Another rending tremor rose out of the trench and Dahl covered her ears. The wreckage listed forward and pieces of jagged debris feel all stabbed the ground around her and Lockspur. The section groaned like a wounded animal and cunvulsing discontent sank into Dahl's bones. The upper section teetered, threatened to flatten them and then swayed back to its original position. Lockspur rushed to her side, bloodied and raw, and said, "We gotta go."

They stood there slack jawed and wide-eyed, peering up as the giant structure creaked and shuddered. The dying ship pendulumed back and forth, a few feet, a few yards, a bit to far. The impossible skyscraper swayed like an ancient redwood buffeted by an unnatural gale. Mesmerized by the hypnotic movement, Dahl thought in an oddly calm dismay, It's coming down.

Sudden realization and Lockdpur grabbed Dahl at the same moment and her face twisted it into a expression of utter terror. Understanding stomped hard on her sleeping fight-or-flight sense. Her pulse raced, face reddened and breath caught. Lockspur reeled away, making to crawl out of the lower trench before it was too late to get away.

A third bone rattling pulse slammed them from behind as another collapse swallowed the compartments. The soil beneath their feet turned in a river drawing them back and down as if caught in an emptying hourglass. A fourth pulse yanked them out the disappearing sand and hurled them further down the trench. They landed face down, tumbling helplessly to a stop. As the moon shook beneath them. Dahl leapt to her feet, spitting out pebbles as Lockdpur lay on the ground, grasping his stomach. 

"Run," Lockspur bellowed, dragging himself up.

The two upper compartments plummeted into the ground as a dozen lower hull supports crumpled as if made of tin foil. The twisting outer hull buckled inward and another terrifying metallic thunder clap lifted them off their feet and dropped them hard. They fell again. The vertical compartment leaned forward, The no longer pendulumeded. It inched forward as gravity reached up and pulled the wreckage towards them. There was nowhere to run.

Dahl and Lockspur jumped up, preparing to dart away as a choking cloud of wafting dust swirled around their feet. Lockspur seized Dahl's wrist and threw her savagely to the side. She rolled away as an enormous section of the outer hull embedded itself into the very spot she had stood just seconds earlier.

"We are leaving," he blared, jerking her roughly to her feet and dragging her away as the buckling ship raced towards the speck of a ship waiting in the distance.

The bullet riddled compartment loomed up, 150 meters above the 30 foot deep trench that trapped them in its falling path. The need for answers had drawn them in too close. There would be no getting out of the way of the falling ship, and they both knew it. There wasn't enough time to navigate the jagged gauntlet leading away. They needed a place to take shelter. But where do you hide from a million tons of falling steel?

Dahl stared over her shoulder at the slowly toppling compartment as Lockspur dragged her forward. Then, as the bottom of the hull finally collapsed inward, the deforming mass of twisting steel gave off a sound like an artillery barrage and exploded. The trench filled with a blinding cloud of angry dust and Dahl turned into Lockspur's grip and ran with him, bouncing off jagged bits of debris that tore at their clothes and sliced at their soft flesh.

"There!" Dahl called out over the din of crumbling metal and fading daylight. The collapsing compartment blotted out the light of both suns.

In the near distance, a large storage container jutted out of the trench floor. Beside it lay an equally large oblong bolder, and behind that was a giant berm of dirt left in the falling container's wake. Between the heavy steel container and the large rock, a shallow ditch had formed. A small indent, but a small chance is better than no chance. Dahl ran at the indent full speed, preparing to dive like a runner stealing home-plate. Lockspur was close at her side. They aimed towards the ditch as the falling hulk obscured the horizons on all sides. It's too shallow, he thought. The sheer mass of the ship would sink into the loose soil ten times that depth. But the shallow grave was their only hope.

At the last possible moment, they dove into the ditch as a hellish maelstrom of noise and chaos consumed them in darkness. All went black and dead silence filled the world. Neither thought they were alive.

Angry, hurt and frightened, things cried out in the darkness. Some were dead. Some were injured. Most were roused from their hiding places. Others were seriously injured. Those were the most dangerous.

The pitch black world came back with a vengeance and with it came pain and disorientation. Dahl's body ached. Her eardrums vibrated painfully, and a sticky fluid dripped from her ear canals. Bood, but in the darkness, there was no way of telling. She had never heard anything as loud as what had just happened. Dahl imagined an exploding nuke wouldn't make that much noise.

A trembling hand touched her back, and she let out a shrill scream. "Quiet!" Lockspur said, cupping a dirty hand over her mouth. "They'll hear you."

She elbowed him instinctively, catching him in the right side without meaning to. "God dammit. Don't do that." Dahl whispered, rolling over to face Lockspur. In the darkness, she could not see him, but if they faced one another, she could whisper.

Lockspur winced in pain, biting his hand to keep from crying out. "Shhh." he warned in an ominous whisper. "We're not alone." Dahl didn't need to see his face to know he was wild-eyed and terrified.

The darkness closed in. Angry things scurried in the distance, and a tiny flame flared brightly in the darkness. Lockspur held out a lit match. Its faint light struggled to fill the tiny space they lay in. The sickly yellow flicker barely illuminated a 6 foot circle around them. Its jittery, wavering light had the odd effect of making the darkness seem claustrophobic and terrifying and the not-so-empty void surrounding them became a living, breathing entity.

Lockspur held the match in his left hand. The fading match.trembled convulsively, and Dahl saw the unspoken pain twist its jittering flame. Lockspur used the light to check her for signs of serious injuries. "You're bleeding." he said, angrily flicking away the match as its hot corona sizzled out against his sweaty fingertips. He struck another, moved it over her shoulders and then up close to her ear, and said, "It's not too bad. Your shoulder stitches tore out and your ears are weeping a little. But all things considered, you should be fine."

"Great." Dahl said, reaching back to feel the re-torn gash on her shoulder. Her finger sank into the hot moist trench dividing the once perfect skin and pain gripped her belly. "As if that scar wasn't going to be ugly enough. Now I get a double dose of unwanted stitches with a side of disfiguring infection."

Lockspur gave off a half exasperated / half stunned laugh and said, "Fucking women. We're trapped in here with God only knows how many of those things and you're worried about a scar? Youre a fucking mercenary. Do you see many beauty pageants in your future?"

"Oh, fuck you." Dahl said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "I'm still a woman." She grabbed his hand and moved towards his face. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, running her hands around him as if looking for protrusions.

Lockspur pulled away more quickly than she liked, saying, "I'm fine." She heard the waver in his voicd and his shallow, ragged gasps and knew he was lying. He was in pain. A lot of pain. The kind of pain that needed immediate attention. Not that he would ask for any. That was not his way.

"What's wrong?" Dahl demanded in a whisper.

He moved the tiny flame up to light his right arm. It disappeared beneath the storage container they had taken shelter near. "Forearm is crushed." Lockspur struggled for a moment, trying to free himself, and then gave up panting heavily. "Fucking dry box rolled over when the ship came down on top of us. Can't get it out. And... there's something else."

"Did you shit your pants again?"

After an uncomfortable silence passed and he said, "I think I broke my right hip."

Hysteria and a gallon of searing adrenaline grabbed Dahl and she broke into hysterical laughter. He waited for her to finish and said, "Funny, Grandpa broke a hip."

Grinning hysteria turned to uncontrolled weeping and Dahl said, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

He smiled and said, "It's okay."

"Why aren't we dead?" Dahl asked, looking around, trying to get her bearings. She strained her eyes, but it was no use. The fallen wreckage had trapped them in absolute darkness, and no matter how wide she forced her eyelids, no images emerged from the darkness. She was blind to all beyond the tiny light of the match and they were quickly running out of matches.

"Dumb luck." he replied, tossing the match a few feet away. The tiny flame flickered wildly, threatened to go out, and then illuminated the hatch that hung off the compartment prior to the collapse. It lay half embedded in the sand less than 2 feet behind Dahl's head. They had taken refuge directly below the torn out hatch they had planned to enter earlier. They had just won the lottery, but now the question was, would they they live long enough to spend the money?

Adrenaline coursed through Dahl's veins like a raging river. Her fight-or-flight sense bashed against her ears. She looked at the hatch. It seemed so close. It was. God knows we should be dead. Angry, disorienting tears trickled down her face, more from adrenaline than pain or fear. She dragged her forearm over her eyes angrily. Dahl hated crying. Most of all, she hated crying in front of men. Men always took her tears as a sign that she either needed saving, or God forbid, needed someone to talk to. She hated talking about her feelings more than she hated crying.

Her shrink back on Sol Luca wanted her to talk after the attack. She told him to stick it. But now, laying here in the dark, she wished she had talked to him. Now, I may never get the chance.

"Listen," Lockspur said, rousing her from her own darkening thoughts. "It's not over yet. You can still get out of here. You just have to calm down and think."

"We..." she stressed, "We can get out of here."

He smiled at her as if saying, she knew that wasnt true. It made her mad and she repeated, "We... are getting out of here."

She glared at Lockspur as if he were being foolish. He had to know, she would never leave him there to die alone in the dark. If nothing else, they had drilled a no one left behind mantra into her head. Lockspur lay there wishing he hadn't.

Lockspur looked from Dahl to his trapped arm and then at the small match box containing less than a few dozen matches. "Sure," he said, offering a weak smile. He knew the matches wouldn't last; and when they were gone. so we're their chance of getting out alive. The desperate expression on Dahl's face signaled she knew that, too. There was no telling where they were in the wreckage, or if there was a way out even if they could free him. Dragging him out would slow her down and he would never allow himself to become the reason she died. He'd lost one family, he wouldn't lose her, too.

If Dahl left now, Lockspur was certain she could get out. She was smart and resourceful.Now, he just had to figure out a way to convince her to leave. But that would take all his courage. 

He let the flame burn down, watching it as it approached his fingertips, feeling the sear come on sharpand then he cried out and threw the flame away. "Dammit," he blurted in pain, using the darkness to retrieve the blade from the scabbard on his tactical vest.

"Are you burned?" she asked.

"Not bad," he answered tucking the knife under his side. He knew she wouldn't go if he was still here. If there was stillthe slightest hope she could save him. If he were alive. So, the really was only one choice, and he would have to make it for her. "My hand's cold." he lied. "You take the matches. I can't hold them anymore."

"Do think there are any raptors nearby?"

"Doubtful." he answered, nudging the box of matches towards the sound of her breathing. "If there eere, we already be dead. We both reak of blood and sweat."

Dahl struck a match and Lockspur said, "Hold it over my arm." He needed to distract her or she would stop him. He knew he was to far gone to keep her from taking the knife. In the faint light, she missed the 3/4 inch steel pipe protruding through his lower abdomen. Thankfully, his armor concealed that bloody mess, and he was glad she hadn't seen it. He could feel no signs of blood on the soil beneath him. The pipe must have plugged the wound as it passed through his pancreas. Hell of a way to cure pancreatic cancer, he thought. For the time being, blood loss was not his problem. But he was slowly going into shock. His hand really was ice cold.

"We won't know how bad it really is until I dig you out." Dahl said, looking around for something to dig him out.

"No," he warned, turning to her with a foreboding expression. "They'll here and come running from every direction."

 "Work your way around to this side and you can try to pull it out." He said, praying she would take the bait before he either lost his nerve or consciousness.

"And if you cant?" she snapped.

"I guess we'll have to just cut it off." he replied, knowing she would never get the chance. By the time she wriggled around his feet he would already be dead. 

Dahl gasped and said, "Carlos, have you lost your mind? I'm not cutting your arm off." And she meant it. She reasoned she had nothing to amputate the limb with anyway, and even if she could find something, she was certain they would run out of matches long before she finished. At that point, he would bleed to death anyways and she would be left trapped in the darkness. And that would lead to a bad ending for both of them. "We'll dig your arm out together."

"And what happens iwhen they hear?" he said, desperately trying to think of anything to make her give up. "Are you going to scare them away with a viscious match burn."

"And what happens when they hear me hacking away at your arm with a jagged piece of dirty wreckage and you screaming in agony? It's not like we have any anesthetic or antiseptic or bandages. Or even a fucking tourniquet."

"Fuck." Lockspur raged to himself, wishing she would just shut up and let him go. He angrily rubbed the sweat and dirt out of his bloodshot eyes. His free hand shook wildly. The knife drug into his side. And his pain level was getting out of control. He begged God to not him go into shock. His right arm had become a million biting fire ants. And that when he remembered the package Lilith gave him was now trapped under a million tons of steel. Fuck it, he thought, goddamn thing is destroyed. "I'm screwed." he said, knowing his chance of making any meetings was zero. Then he laughed maniacally and a chill went up Dahl's spine.

Lilith offered Lockspur all the things she knew he could not refuse. A cure for all his ills. If you help me, I'll fix you. He jumped at the deal, reasoning the others would eventually forgive him. He was ashamed but the pain in his body had become unbearable and the doctors told him it would get far worse before the end came.

"At least we're alive." Dahl replied, brows furrowing as she stared passed Lockspur. Something lay on the ground behind him. She beamed a tear filled smile and said, "There's still hope."

As she made her way downward, going to checkout the object laying behind him, he reached down and drew out the knife. He place the tips over the side of his throat and tears poured down his face. His hand shook, he took a deep, calming breath and as he went to plunge through his jugular vein, the knife feel from his limp, ice-cold hand.

"Look," Dahl vried out.

"What?" he asked, frightened by the positively giddy expression warping her face.She didn't see the knife on the ground beside his neck.

"Carlos," Dahl said, as a giant grin of relief brought the color back to her face. "Your sunglasses must have fallen off your head." She held them up. "See. They were laying right behind you."

He reached up, touched the sunglasses and let out a ragged sigh. A single tear, born half of pain and half of relief, trickled down his dirty grey cheek. It washed away the thick layer of dust covering his olive skin as it went. In the darkness, he looked like a clown wearing sad face make-up. But there was still one problem. He could no longer dispatch himself. He didn't have the strength.

Dahl looked away. What she mis-took for feeling of desperate hope made her cry, too. He took the glasses out her hand and fumbled the glasses onto Dahl's face. He pressed a button on the side of the black frames and the inside of the lenses lit up with an eerie green glow. They weren't just sunglasses; they were night vision goggles, as well. Grainy green images emerged from the darkness as if she were watching an old silent film come to life. All was not lost; she could see again. And for the moment, they were safe and alone.

"We're getting out of here." Dahl said, as a tone of elation filled her rising words. She peered around, taking in what little she could make out. "They're working."

Lockspur smiled at Dahl like a proud parent. "You know I've always loved..." He grabbed his own mouth, stifling an explosive coughing fit. A glut of clotted blood filled his dry mouth. It tasted of copper and rusty nails and he felt its warm, sticky flow trickle through his fingers. He hoped Dahl wouldn't see it. He knew the beasts might smell its intoxicating aroma and race to it. "I'm the anchor now." Lockspur said, wiping the blood in the dirt and then covering the blood-soaked soil with a layer of fresh, unscented dirt. "I won't let you get killed because of me. Just, tell Maria and the kids, I love them." He pawed the ground beside his head weakly and came uo with his knife. He stuffed it in Dahl's hand, and ordered her to go. "Save yourself. You can make it out. I know you can. I taught you all I know. You are ready. You have been ready for a long time. Just go."

"Fuck you," she blurted in utter disbelief. "I'm in charge here. Not you, dammit. Im the mission Commander."

Lockspur grabbed Dahl's hand and she barely stifled a scream of surprise. "Don't be stupid," he said, tears streaming down his face. "Go. Save yourself while you still can."

Dahl's mouth fell open as an avalanche of emotions crushed down on her all at once. In the green light, he looked a million years old and tired. Dead tired. Terror, sadness, desperation, and anger stole her resolve. She knew what to do. Lockspur was right? But did he actually think Dahl would leave him there in the dark to die like an animal caught in a trap? She would never leave him to be torn apart by those monsters? Dahl's lips trembled, her breathing came in barely controlled sobs as she stared around, looking for something to dig him out with. Anger and rage took over, and she snarled, "Fuck that." She grabbed his shirt and yanked him closer. "You won't do that to me. You don't get to condemn me to a life of knowing I choose to let you die to save my own ass. And I won't tell Maria or the kids I let you die just to save myself. So, suck it up. We're getting the fuck out of here even if I have to drag your sorry ass out kicking and screaming."

"I love you too." he said, reaching out and wiping away her tears. "But we both know, you'll only be dragging out a corpse." Then he gestured at his pinned arm and added, "Every blood vessel in my arm exploded. You know that as soon as my arm is free, I'll bleed out in minutes. And the smell of fresh blood will draw them straight to you." He hugged her weakly. She felt his body spasm in pain, and he added, "You can't save me, Dahl. No one can. I know you want to. But you can't. I died in the collapse, you just can't see it yet."

"I can still try." Dahl snapped, slapping his hug away and stuffing a warning finger in his face to cut him off before he could protest. "Just zip it. I need to recon the area for anything useful. Maybe I can find something to make an improvised tourniquet or use as a shovel. If not, maybe I can find a way out and then come back for you."

"No!" he blurted. "You have to do something for me before you leave." he added, grabbing her arm before she crawled away. "Lilith gave me something before I left. She said someone would meet me here and that I should give it to them."

"Why didn't you say anything to us before now?"

"Lilith said if I did. Our deal was off."

"What deal?"

"I have cancer." Lockspur explained. "Lilith said if I made the delivery without telling anyone, she would cure me."

"You could have come to us. We would have helped you pay for his treatments." Dahl said, feeling more hurt than angry.

"His treatments cost 16 million credits. And Lilith said she would cure me before I came back."

"Whats that supposed to mean," she said, sitting back. "The suto-doc was going to treat you while toure in stasis. Thats not possible."

"No. She said the person I meet here would cure me. Cure everything wrong with me. All the things wrong with me."

"Thats not possible."

"She's never lied to me before."

"You still should have told us."

"I should have. But I was scared."

"Of us?"

'Of dying."

Dahl held out her hand and said, " Give it to me. I'll deliver it to the contact and bring them back here to help get you out."

"Don't bother," Lockspur said, gesturing to his trapped arm. "It's destroyed."

She looked perplexed and asked, " Were you holding it?"

"No." he answered. "It's buried under the skin of my forearm."

"The boil."

He nodded weakly.

"Why tell me any of this if I can't help you?"

"You needed to know, Moss was right. There is someone out there. You need to be careful." Lockspur said. As Fahk made to move away, Lockspur touched her arm and said, "Slow and steady, chica. There's no telling who's in those shadows."

"Ill be careful. As long as I can see them, I can evade them." Dahl said, half trying to reassure him and half trying to bolster her own confidence. She knew all too well the raptors would see her long before she saw them, and that terrified her more than she let on.

Before Dahl moved again, Lockspur grabbed her hand. "Wait. Listen."

"Shit!" she shrieked, far louder than she wanted to. "Will you stop doing that?"

Lockspur's voice was a whisper that made her think he believed something may be listening. "Whatever is going on here, has nothing to do with raptors. Whoever... Or whatever caused those energy pulses is the real threat. Keep your eyes and ears open."

"Affirmative. We're here to meet someone."

"We are," he said. His voice sounded faint. "But unless the person we came to meet has a suicidal death wish, that person is not the only other person here. So, be careful and trust no one."

"Aren't you just full of good news?"

"Sorry," he said, and passed out.

Dahl looked at Lockspur, checked his pulse, kissed his forehead and said, "I love you too, you big butthead."