The Unfortunate Master Of The Apocalypse

Chapter 2: Unfortunate Talent

The thread held long enough to matter.

Ethan felt it settle into his arms as he grabbed the metal. The door rose with Tram's side, slow and even, and the weight lifting clear off Priya's lower half. She was almost free, close enough that Caroline the group medic had already started reaching for her and someone behind Ethan let out a breath like the worst part was already over.

“That's it.” Tram's voice came out ragged. “Almost there, keep it steady.”

Then, the thread stretched. It lasted for exactly ten seconds and started snapping as expected. It kept humming in his chest like it was still there but his arms told him the truth.

“Ethan, hold it.” Leon's voice came from behind him.

“I'm holding it.”

He was holding it, but his side was dropping lower and faster. Caroline was pulling Priya from under it. She was almost out but Ethan lost the thread entirely. His edge came back down at an angle. Not the full crushing weight of the first fall, but enough to catch what should have already been free. Whatever sound Priya made after that didn't stop for a long time.

“Damn it Ethan!” Tram threw everything into his own end, hauling the whole collapsed door up and sideways through nothing but brute force. It worked and Priya came free.

Caroline dragged her clear, back toward the farthest corner from the door. Somebody was already there with a first aid kit. They handed it to Caroline as she pressed her hands against the bleeding leg.

“We need new supplies. There's nothing in the box I can make use of.” Caroline said.

Nobody answered right away. Eyes avoided Ethan as he stood still overwhelmed by the situation. The muffled screaming was registered in his mind. His legs gave out and he fell on his knees, his hands still curled around a strength that wasn't there anymore, and a headache started on the front of his head like a slow press of thumbs. It got worse in stages. First, just pressure, dull and specific. Then it sharpened, and underneath it came a feeling that wasn't shaped like anything he had felt before. It was flat and disdainful in a way his own guilt never was. His guilt was loud. This was quiet. It took him a second to place it. He had copied Tram's strength, and it had come with a thin edge of the feeling Tram must have been carrying the whole time he strained lifting the door. Tram’s disappointment. He had felt this before, the external emotions, every time he copied someone. He just never got used to it. Ethan now sat with someone else's disappointment and couldn't tell anymore which part of the ache belonged to him. All he knew was that it was his fault. Priya's leg, the door, all of it. He had felt the thread slip and he had known, in that moment, exactly what he was and had always been. If the thread had held for one more second. Just one. He could have saved her. Now he had made it worse.

Ethan stood up. There was something he could still do. He could still help. It wasn't over yet. He walked over to where Priya was.

“We're low on everything. Bandages, antiseptic, the stuff that actually stops infection instead of just slowing it down.” Caroline said, still working over Priya, not looking up

“I know where there's more I can go out and get them.” Ethan looked at his feet, then at Priya's injured leg. He had to do something.

“How can you handle yourself out there when you can't even handle a door.” Caroline said, not looking at him. “You will only end up getting yourself eaten.”

Caroline was right and Ethan knew it. If he went out alone, he would eventually come across a ghoul, and he wouldn't be able to do anything except get himself killed. Maybe that was better than the trouble he had caused. Ethan shook his head. No, he couldn't think that. He wouldn't let the foreign emotions take over his mind. He found an empty crate and sat down. Ethan looked back and Leon was by the door with Tram, inspecting the damage and trying to raise the door, bracing it so it won't fall. Nomy squatted by Priya, assuring her it would be okay.

Tram left Leon by the door and walked over, wiping sweat with his sleeve. He stood looking at Priya then turned to face Ethan with the same sneer he always had for him.

“If only someone was less unfortunate. We wouldn't have been in this mess. But why are we not surprised? It was already expected.”

The disappointment in Ethan's chest pulsed hard like it recognized its own name being spoken out loud.

“Take that back.” Nomy was already on her feet, the whole warehouse went quiet. Even Priya's muffled screams had reduced to just sobs.

“I'm not taking it back. I’m not the one who dropped the door on her.”

“He’s right there, barely holding it together, and you thought now was the moment to kick him.”

“Nomy. Don't fight this one for me.” Ethan was on his feet again, slower this time, one hand braced against the crate while the headache tilted the room half a step sideways.

“Ethan,” Nomy's voice trailed off.

“He's not saying anything I haven't already said to myself in the last five minutes.” He looked at Tram directly. “You don't have to make it a headline, Tram. I know what I did tonight. I don't need you to announce it.”

Tram paused, furrowing his brow, recalculating who he was actually arguing with.

“One day you will get all of us killed if you don't stop being soft.” he said finally, quieter now, in a tone closer to an apology than triumph, and walked off toward the platform stairs.

“Tram just doesn't know when to shut up.” She stood in front of Ethan, turning his head from side to side. “Are you okay? How's your head?”

“He's not wrong.” Ethan was still looking at the place Tram stood. If he was like this, how would he protect others when he couldn't even protect himself?

“He's not right either. Your talent slipped. That is not the same as you being the villain tonight, and I'm not going to let you decide that.”

He couldn't continue like this. He would only get them killed. Then he would become the real villain. The only way out was to get stronger. He didn't say that to her. But her hands stayed on his face, steady, and some part of him held onto what she had said even if he couldn't hold the truth of it yet. That was when Leon crossed the floor.

“Nomy. Caroline. Upstairs. Now.”

Nomy's hand tightened against Ethan's jaw. “Is this about Tram? About what just happened?”

“It's about the discussion we started earlier. Before the commotion.” Leon was already on the stairs. He did not look back when he spoke. “Everyone who needs to weigh in. Not everyone. Just the heads.”

Ethan held his breath. The discussion about liabilities, together with the group heads. Why now of all times? Priya just got injured. Nomy went still too. Whatever she had braced for this wasn't it, and Ethan watched her catch the realization before she smoothed it back down.

“I have to go.” She said, low. “I’ll tell you everything we discussed after.”

She bent down and kissed him on the lips, holding it for about two seconds. It was something she needed to do before she could make herself walk away. She tasted like the beef broth they had that afternoon and he couldn't care less. She went up the stairs with Caroline without looking back. He watched the two of them disappear through the doorway one at a time. He wished he was there. If they were discussing the fate of the weak and vulnerable members, he would need to remind them why they created the group. The promise they made about sticking together. He looked around at the rest of the seven members. Even though they had been together and the newest joined just four months ago, he still could not tell what was going on in their minds. He wondered if their minds are occupied with what was going on upstairs.

He crossed to Priya. She had been bandaged with what their supplies allowed. Her eyes found his, half-focused, but there. Something passed over her face that wasn't quite blame, and then her eyes slid shut. One of the members by her side gave him a look that indicated he should step back. He pulled back and didn't argue. It would be the last time his talent ever failed. He would be better next time. He sat down, watching her chest rise and fall. His headache had gone down to a low throb, the last of Tram's disappointment finally going quiet in his mind.

Above him, through the floorboards, he heard voices but it was too low to make out what the words were. He found the notebook from earlier that evening and turned it to the math he had calculated. Two days of ration. He did the math again, slower, and the new number was exactly the amount he was expecting. He was still writing when the murmur above him changed shape, rose once, fell again and went silent. He sat with the book on his lap, pencil still, waiting to find out what they decided. Whatever it was, he only had one thought in his mind. Next time, he would not fail. He couldn't.