Ryan Garan (pt.5)

June 5, 2010
By Duncan Kinzie GOLD, St.Louis, Missouri
Duncan Kinzie GOLD, St.Louis, Missouri
10 articles 10 photos 4 comments

-Begin Transmission

It’s not just that I want him to, but Henry Deroga needs, he has to die. He won’t stop, if he lives. His bombings will continue until he’s happy, which won’t be for a while if it ever happens. The bombings are probably what makes him happy.

The point is, if he doesn’t die soon, we’re officially screwed. And I don’t mean like when your dad comes home and you haven’t finished the stacks of chores he has for you. I mean like we are all going to die. Yeah, grounded for life, bummer man. I’m taking a shot in the dark here (I’ve done that before, bad aim) but if I can kill Deroga, Raven Corp might just lay off long enough for me to round up more people for our rebellion. If I work fast it should go well. Because there are others out there, more people like me. Not necessarily people with abilities like mine, but other people who stand above. I’m the survivor, there must be others…

Dreams can haunt a person for a while. For example, I rolled around for about a week trying to come to terms with my visions. I slept a total of about 3 hours in that week. Not only was most of it really disturbing (the chief was dressed as a creepy clown… I hate clowns) but seeing Sam so vividly again… I’ll admit, brought tears to my eyes. Well, more like waterfalls if you ask Carl, which I don’t recommend.

No matter what, though, I’m going to kill, no… slaughter, that son of a %*#@$. I won’t let one more massacre go unanswered, he pays what’s due NOW. And I know exactly where to find him.
Remember, Carl still works for him, he’s my inside source. According to him our pal Henry is going a little “eco-friendly” with his next disaster. Either that or he’s trying to make it look natural, like an accident. He’s going to blow a cliff side, showering the below city with boulders and rubble. Milte, said city, will be completely and utterly razed.
Carl and I had planned and planned. Unfortunately we had absolutely no time to train; the rough draft would be the final product. But in theory here’s how it would have run out: the day before the bomb, Carl drops me off in Milte. The day of demolition I climb the cliff side a mile north of the bombing site. Carl drops of Deroga, takes off and swan dives near the cliff. I, with some help of some magnets, leap from the cliff and take hold of the plane. Carl pulls back up and flies parallel to the plateau. I make my way to the wing before Carl throws the plane in a barrel roll. I fly through the air and take Deroga by his blind side. He dies, Milte is saved, and we all order pizza and watch a movie. At least… that was the plan……
What really did happen was much worse. It was horrifying, even. I still have shivers whenever I think about it.
At first everything went great. Carl dropped me off and found a high rise hotel to stay in that night. My sleep was the cleanest it’d been in weeks, I felt so close to completing my journey. In the morning I got up early and jumped around the city for an hour to stretch and warm up. Also, if a fight extended away from the bomb, I’d need to know where to go. When I was all done I decided to walk back rather than take to the heights again. On my way I ran into a black guy and a white girl walking around along the sidewalk. Normally I would’ve just ignored them, but these two stood out somehow. It was most likely from the fact that they both were carrying notepads and examining the city, but it might’ve been because the guy was in clothes that looked as rugged and constantly worn as mine, as I had worn the same scrounged together outfit for the past 5 years now. The girl was completely mismatched. She wore a cleaner outfit that fit the popular style of girls in the Oasis District. Her clothes were dirty and dusted but definitely in better shape than the guy’s. I didn’t think much of it at the time and came back and took I nice, long, relaxing bath (what?!? men can take baths!). And I gotta say, for an eventful day as it was I felt really chilled out. Who knew kill day could be mellow?
At about noon, after a beautifully delicious chimichanga, I made my way up the cliff. Carl and I talked over our com links.
“You ready for this?” –Carl
“As I’ll ever be.” –Me
As planned, Carl swung around the cliff side at the designated time. Time slowed down for me as the adrenaline increased my heart beat. In one fluid motion I back flipped off the cliff, poured all my climbing gear out of my body, and brought magnets to my hands. I landed perfectly on the plane. Once inside I went straight to the cockpit.
“Nice.” –Me
“I’m not the one who just leapt from a cliff.”
“You’re also not the one who has to be flung from the plane.”
“Speaking of which you better get moving. What are you taking?”
“Pistol, hang glider wings, grenade. I can’t get that much in me if I’m going to fly that far.”
“No, you’re gliding.”
“For the last time it’s called a Flying Squirrel but it glides too now doesn’t it!”
“Look, I know how you work, Ryan. You’re scared on the inside.”
“I’m not scared! This’ll be a quick job, completely silent.” I gritted my teeth, “I want to feel his blood on my hands, though.”
“Whatever you say, but you are scared. Ryan, I promise you…” he looked me in the eye, “you’re going to make it out of this one.”
I ignored him, “What are you wearing?!?”
“It’s the jacket you told me to hold onto. I have a feeling I might need it on this one. That all right with you?”
“Just get ready for the maneuver. I’m going to the wing.”

Then we heard the most spine-tingling, bone-chilling, noise over the com link. A noise that made Marilyn Manson sound like Mickey Mouse. A sound that sent thrilling shivers up my back, made every hair in my being stand on end, disturbed the very atoms of my body, and created suspense so strong I couldn’t move for fear of more. This noise, no, this sentence curled my blood 50 times over in seconds it was said.
“You know these com links are quite easy to hack.”

I turned around and Carl flipped his head back to look at me. Carl wore a look of pure fear, and I’m sure I had the same appearance.

At just that moment the whole plane was thrown to the side. Carl’s a good pilot and he steadied us back out but picked up a lot of speed.
“What the $@#% was that?!?!” –Me
“It’s Deroga, he’s been on our com frequency this whole #%$@ing time!!!”
“%#*@. Alright I’m going to the wing now.”
“Step on it! I can’t hold him off forever!”

I sprinted for the access to the wing, which if you’ve ever run in a shaking plane is really difficult. Carl yelled after me.
“RYAN! RPG!!!”
Just as I was about to reach the door to the wing, the whole back end of the plane exploded, leaving an empty whole. I grabbed onto something as we spun out of control but was sucked out by the vacuum. Mid-air I popped out my wings but to no avail. I couldn’t catch any air to let me glide. I fell straight down and hit the dirt… hard.
“AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!” it hurt… a lot.

I looked up and saw Carl and his plane spinning out of control. It was headed for the ground fast and Carl wouldn’t take a hit like that. Luckily I just barely thought I saw something burst through the cockpit window but even if it was Carl, he wouldn’t land without breaking something from that height. At least he had Harry’s jacket.

Enraged, I stumbled to my feet. Everything was wrecked around me. Half of the plane lay in burning heaps and the other half wasn’t too far off. All the smoke and exhaust had darkened the sky above the wreckage; I couldn’t see anything in front of me. And that’s just what my surroundings looked like. If I had had a mirror I probably wouldn’t have recognized myself. I had a broken arm that stored my only gun, which meant I couldn’t pull it out anymore. Every part of my body was ringing with pain, like how your butt feels after you’ve sat in the same uncomfortable place for hours, or when your foot’s not asleep but not awake. I was covered head to foot in dirt, soot, and blood. I had a gash down my shoulder so big I thought I saw a gun I had stored in there.
My hang glider wings were disfigured to my back, and uneven to my spine which they were connected to. So, with enough pain to kill a whale and screams loud enough to wake the dead, I tore it off. The wings, the rods, the pole connecting the wings to my spine, and even some of my own flesh, everything.
I was sore, beaten, tired out of my mind, except for one thought that protruded: “Kill that %@*$^#% NOW.”

Without any thoughts but this one in my mind, I trudged on, determined to kill him. I pushed through the obstacles of the fallen plane. Coughing at the smoke and clutching my wounds I hurried to where I thought Deroga was. He called out to me all the way.
The crunch of his boots on the dirt shocked me, so I hid in part of the rubble. He walked right past and I got a good look at him. When he was gone I half limped half sprinted for the bomb. I started fiddling with it and found it hadn’t been activated yet. I took a sigh of relief. Thinking of it, I frantically searched for his equipment to see if he had a gun. He didn’t have anything whatsoever.
All of a sudden I fell to the ground, a huge pain in my broken arm side. But now in my leg too, it was too hurt to move. I looked up and there was Deroga with his shotgun. He was kind of smiling and kind of grimacing like I was a huge pain in his side (didn’t doubt that).

As he said it, I ran around and hid on the other side of the bomb, trying to slow my breathing. He kept shooting even though I wasn’t in range. When he rounded the corner of the bomb I was right there. I punched him in the face, kicked his leg a way a leg should never bend, and knocked his shotgun up into the air, catching it as it fell. I cocked it again and aimed at him and… I froze. Not because I was unsure about killing him, but because I wanted to savor the moment, to drink in the seconds when I ended this. I had come a long way from sitting on my couch, looking for something to do. Now I had too much to do and I was ready to finish my journ-

In my moment of distraction, Deroga kicked the gun out of my hands, sending it flying off the cliff. I jumped away but he was too fast. He grabbed my ankle and pulled me down. I started to crawl away, but he got up and put his foot on my back, pinning me down. For some reason all my years of battle training failed me and I became a kid, throwing loose hits and scratching for defense. Deroga was sick of games; he shut me up with a strong jab to the face. My nose started bleeding along with the numerous other wounds I already had. After that he wouldn’t stop hitting me. Square in the face and the gut until I had a waterfall of blood flowing out my mouth, then he let me drop to my knees. He kicked me over and over and over relentlessly. Finally I fell to my back, covered in blood. He came up to my beaten pulp of a body and stood over me. Putting his face right up to mine he hissed at me.

With that he picked me up by my neck, choking me. He swung me over the cliff’s edge, my feet dangling over an enormous drop. I had one thought in my head: Sam. Sam, an innocent, sweet girl, was murdered by this psycho. I told myself one thing in those seconds: IT IS TIME TO SHOW HIM YOUR PAIN.

I had one last trick up my sleeve, so with my final ounce of strength I grabbed Deroga’s arm that was holding my neck, twisted it, and pulled myself back to the ground. On the way I elbowed Henry in the back of the head. When I hit the ground I looked back just in time to see him falling off the cliff, a grenade disappearing into his skull. I dropped the pin and collapsed. Seconds later there was an explosion at the base of the cliff, but the only thing it shook was my eardrums.

And this is now. That just happened. I’m leaning against a huge bomb that was never activated covered head to foot in blood and bruises. I have no idea where Carl is, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold out here. Deroga was partly right; I am going to die here…

Wait, what was that? There was something to the East in the sky. It’s falling to Culda. I have to go; I have to follow that……
Hello this is Carl. Ryan’s passed out. God he looks awful, I don’t know how extensive his wounds are. If you hear this you have to send for help! Spread the word, call 911, do something! YOU HAVE T…… oh my God…… I can’t feel his heart beat……

Yours truly,

-End Transmission

The author's comments:
The final installment!

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This article has 2 comments.

on Jun. 30 2010 at 9:32 pm
Duncan Kinzie GOLD, St.Louis, Missouri
10 articles 10 photos 4 comments
gonna have to wait till more storylines come together. i have their plots i just need to write them.

on Jun. 30 2010 at 5:28 pm
IamtheshyStargirl PLATINUM, Lothlorien, Utah
44 articles 16 photos 2217 comments

Favorite Quote:
Boredom instigates extreme creativity.

"Bowing gratefully to all of my subjects, 'thank you. Thank you. The pleasure is mine." Nah, I'm just kidding. We're all kings together.'"

Did... Ryan ...just die?


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