" I am scared..." a young boy, about the age of six, said to another.
Both bore similar features, blonde hair and emerald eyes, his elder brother.
The elder brother, who looked to be only twelve, hugged him tightly. "It will be alright, help will come... We will see Mom and Dad again..."
He tried to comfort him, the little boy's shaking body lessening.
The two were the high value civilians, children of high ranking officials.
During a school trip, they were separated from their bodyguards as a result of the chaos of a mass shooting by the cult.
The guards were caught in the crossfire, which was purposely targeted at adults, though some children were lost.
The few that survived were kidnapped, brought halfway across the world to their headquarters for the sacred rituals.
Thirty seven children were presently huddled together, fewer than the 50+ who were brought in, most already dead, either during the trip, from malnutrition, infection, or used for the ritual.
The rest could only find solace in each other, as most hugged for comfort, a few alone, shaking, hugging their knees as they prayed for their parents or anyone at all to come to their aid.
"You think someone is going to save you, dream on, we are all going to die..." a young girl who was sitting close to the two boys exclaimed, her words unforgiving.
She looked older, about fifteen.
It was the first time the two had seen her, which meant she was not part of the school trip, probably from a different part of the world.
The elder brother glared at her, the girl only scoffing.
She was not going to be delusional when she knew no one had ever escaped from the cult.
She, a bit matured, had already relinquished herself to her fate.
"Brother!" the little boy looked into his brother's eyes, tears clouding his vision. "I don't want to die..." He began to shake again, his words soft as he feared what the men with guns would do to him.
The elder brother panicked as he held his brother's mouth. Though he spoke quietly, he feared the guards would notice.
They hated it when someone cried, especially when they called their sacred ritual death.
In their words, "It's a delivery from the cruelty of hell, a holy act to the selected few."
He looked at the two guards in front of the door, afraid they might have heard him, as they were the closest to them.
And in that moment, the door exploded, shards of wood flying across the room.
Before the children or even the guards could react, the five guards found themselves on the ground, blood dripping from the bullet wounds in their heads.
They did not even have the chance to pull the trigger, killed before they could react and even before the smoke of the explosion could settle.
The children wanted to scream but feared they would be next.
They had seen their mates brutally killed for coughing too loudly, and thus they could only shut their eyes and hold their mouths tight, their screams muffled, bodies trembling as they prayed to their Creator.
"Hey, are you okay..." Alaric stepped through the door.
His voice was soft, yet loud enough for them to hear.
Hearing the unfamiliar voice, they slowly opened their eyes.
The rays of the afternoon sun shone through the dusty doorway, like a heavenly portal through which an angel, Alaric, stepped.
His blonde hair and sky blue eyes made him look like an angel, a middle aged angel as he was forty one.
Though he looked young for his age, he still looked like a middle aged man.
Most of the kids wanted to rush to him but noticed his attire and the gun by his side, their fear rooting them in place.
In their minds, an angel should not be holding a gun.
The last people they had seen holding guns had used it on them.
What if they also wanted to kill them, they knew not
"Don't worry, we are the good guys." Mark stepped through, arms raised to show he meant no harm, a cheerful smile on his face.
At the sight of that, the children's bodies relaxed a bit.
Mark looked to be in his early twenties, his soft features able to make anyone let their guard down, the children no better.
"See, I told you help would come," the golden haired boy said to his brother, a smile of relief on his face.
He was but a child himself, scared the whole time, yet tried to comfort his brother.
The younger brother smiled, delighted.
He rose to his feet and, with a soft but excited voice, asked the question that had been on everybody's mind.
"Are you going to save us?"
"Yes," Mark smiled back.
"We are Navy SEALs, meant to escort you back to your parents," he said to the boy.
The little boy, elated, jumped around in joy.
"Is this them..." Alaric inquired, recognizing the two as the high value civilians, their rescue their top priority.
Mark nodded.
Alaric, confirming they were the targets, walked to them.
He knelt to eye level with the twelve year old. "What is your name?" he inquired.
"Charles Auric," the boy answered.
Alaric nodded as he proceeded to ask several other questions to verify their identity.
Sure they were the targets, he turned to his comrade, nodding.
Mark nodded in acknowledgement, his gaze sweeping across the children, his brows furrowed in worry and frustration.
They were sent to only save these two, the rest, well let's say they were not part of the mission.
"Go with them, they will take you out of here," Alaric said to the two boys with a smile.
The boys slowly walked to Mark's side, murmurs filling the room.
The girl who had spoken to the boys earlier rose to her feet. "What about us?" she exclaimed, pupils widening in anxiety, as it seemed they had come only to rescue those two.
The rest, gaining a bit of courage, also inquired.
"Please save me as well."
"You can let me stay, save my sister, she is sick..."
"Please, mister soldiers, don't leave us..."
"This isn't fair, what makes them special..."
"Hey, keep quiet!" Alaric's voice thundered, seemingly enraged.
Scared, the place fell silent, and then, with a soft voice, he spoke. "Who said I am saving only them? We will save you all..."
"Sir, are you..." Mark interrupted, Alaric turning to look at him with a sad smile.
"Yeah... I don't have anything to lose anyway, and with this I can redeem myself..."
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A/N
2/5