《The Thermal Implant》 Chapter 1 The candle light danced of the wind. Johnson was sitting in the corner of the kitchen. On the dusty floor laid pieces of some tore cardboard box. He felt heat on his cheek, his wounded temple burned badly. It was day. Gray light dimly came out the window next to him. He promptly reloaded his shotgun, getting ready for the next bastard. He looked at the opened door. Absolute gloom was there. Something rumbled with a sound of glass break. He pointed his shotgun at the sound source. Someone is walking on the splinters, he thought. Tempo Soldiers will never catch me. I''ll generously feed them with bullets. Sounds little by little subsided. Johnson was a patient man, but in few hours his body started whining. His stomach growled. Eyelids tempted to close. Three days passed since he had last eaten and slept. He stood up, slowly and carefully, it was easy to lose the balance at his exhausted state. It was raining outside. Rain drops pattered the rusty roof. "I need to hurry" he thought. Still holding his weapon, he went to the backyard door. The house was abandoned. Drawers, shelfs, safes were all empty. Most of the windows were broken and it smelled rot in here. He checked Amy in his backpack. The machine was still on. Great, he said. Step by step he reached the hall. The floor was covered dried blood. No corpses, no living, just a vast room with the door leading outside. It opened with a loud creak. He checked his pockets, they were empty. Johnson could see stars in the sky. Half his way was behind, the harder one was ahead. The further he went, the colder it got, in a dead world where no humans were left, but this awful creatures that once had been people: Tempo Soldiers. After adapting the environment, they threw away their humanity and became monster cyborgs. Only thing left for Johnson was to reach the edge of the world. Legends said that the world would return to normal once someone crossed its boundary. But Tempo Soldiers would never let anyone reach it, because it would mean their death. He continued his way up the road. Heavy rain drops sometimes stroke his nose with a slapping sound. Nobody was beside to talk to. Fresh air. Scent of the wet ground. Old trees some of which might had once seen the normal world. The road was wide. The asphalt glimpsed puddles. The cacophony of rain. And the lonely silhouette, slowly limping in the middle, Johnson. Step, step, step. His shoes were damp inside and squelched like sobbing children. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Silence was in Johnson''s head. He heard nothing and thought of nothing. Bandages wrapped around his hand were claret red, but he didn''t pay attention. He was alive, yet he had something rotting inside of him since two years ago. The blond lad with eyes full of hope had died, leaving behind the thin, broken man he was now. And he remembered the day they put Amy in the metal box inside his backpack. He knew she had cried and begged for mercy while they had removed her organs. His head ached. It was dangerous, because he might faint. "Anyway, we are fine, aren''t we?" he said feebly. Obviously, no response followed. He spoke to Amy. Maybe just to not get mad. He wanted to speak, and nothing could handle him from it. On the right hand from him was a flower field, one of beautiful things left of the ancient world. Air here was so clean and easy he could feel free, take a rest from his awful life for awhile. Purple, red, green and white vivid colors soothed his eyes. He was delighted. "Look Amy, what a great place is it" he said. Even further was a tremendous range of hills. A strong urge to stay here popped his mind, but his wish, we all know, would never come to life. . . . After few hours he reached some town. All buildings were overgrown plants. The soil was wet, it had been raining here. No children played at the playground he looked at. No old man sat the bench beside complaining about the modern generation. No birds sang and flied. The cloudy sky was gray, so the world looked bitterly sad. This neglected place caused strong misgiving. The church with the broken crucifix on its roof. Abandoned houses with their doors opened. Windows with no light in them. And the ominous wind was blowing from the east. Johnson was nervous and scared, but had no choice. He started sneaking everywhere, searching for food. A can of beans was laying on the table. Looked it over. It wasn''t expired yet. He decided to not to wait too long and opened it. Contents smelled deliciously, according to his hunger. He greedily drank all the water from inside and commenced to fill his mouth with salty beans. That was not enough. He wanted more. By the time he finished exploring the area the sky had colored black. To his saving were added up a soda bottle, can of corns, and a small pack of biscuits. "I think we shall stay here for this night" he said to Amy, placing his heavy backpack on the floor. He took off the soda cap, bottle hissed loudly. After making few lazy sips, he spread up the blanket he had found in the other building. Laid down, and fell asleep. Chapter 2 Amy was lying her bed. Soft aftertaste of toothpaste was still in her mouth. The room was dark, only night lamp produced dim light. She tucked in the blanket. Then, the door opened with a loud creak and Johnson entered. He held a book in his hand. She smiled. Her blue eyes shined, but with some tinge of fright. "I''m scared, Papa" she said, pointing her finger at the wardrobe "Someone is there" "Oh, really?" said Johnson "Let me go and check" He slowly approached the wardrobe. Nobody was inside, only coat, some dress and jacket were hanging. "No one is here, my dear" he said "But someone was there. I saw" she said "Okay, then I''ll close it, so no one gets out of there, fine?" he said. "Yes!" she answered happily. The clock on the wall struck midnight. Pretty late for a 8 years old girl. The room was warm enough for Johnson to yawn constantly. Walls of soothing pink. Rays of placid orange light. Thuds of rain hitting the window. "Papa" suddenly said Amy "What, my dear?" "You''re my hero, Papa" she said and hugged him on his waist This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it "Ohhh, my Amy..." moaned Johnson, tears of sorrow rolled his cheeks. He bend down with his palms trying to hide his face. "What''s wrong, Papa?" said Amy "No, it''s nothing, my dear" he said, rubbing his eyes "Let''s read some fairytale", the lamp was right behind him so Amy saw only his shaded silhouette. Johnson loved his daughter more than anything. His heart leaped of despair. In half an hour Amy was asleep. Johnson sat there for the next hour, just looking at her, unable to stop crying. Then he kissed her on the forehead, went out the room and closed the door behind. Not long after sweeping off his tears he went to Charlotte. She sat on the porch stairs, smoking. Her chin shivered. A dead silence was around. The cigarette filter was burning her skin but she didn''t pay attention. Her dark hair fluttered of chilly wind blows. His wife was weeping. "She''s sleeping. Would you like to see her once again?" he said standing beside "I''m a bitch!" she mourned with tears like tiny diamonds standing at the corners of her eyes "I''m a fucking bitch!" "Don''t say that" "Tomorrow they will come and take her from us! What can I do as her mother? Even death would be much more merciful. But I can not kill her, never in my life!" cried Charlotte, stomping "Then what?" said Johnson. She suddenly calmed down. "I know you also won''t pull the trigger, so the only thing left for me, I can''t stand this anymore. Promise me you''ll take care of her after she becomes a piece of metal with flash inside" "I will" said Johnson without a hesitate "Then I wish you luck, sorry for me being so weak. It will be really hard for you" she said "It''s okay. I understand" Charlotte passionately kissed him for the last time. Took a revolver from the drawer and with words "I''m sorry, Amy" shoot herself. Johnson got cursed for his whole life. He promised nobody would ever touch his little girl. He wanted to die, but had no right to. Amy held him tightly, made him stay at this accursed world, forced him to contemplate as it burned. Chapter 3 When Johnson woke up he didn''t know if his eyes were opened. Absolute darkness was around. Only Amy glimpsed her indicator. He heard a slight tinnitus, because there was nothing else to hear. The floor was cold, so he was sleeping with his coat wore on. He felt something specific, but familiar. His breathe sped up of sudden realization. It was a nagging feeling of someone watching you when you sleep. Instead of the blanket he would hide in as a child, he held his shotgun, hugged it tighter and tighter. And he would let be. The tension slowly passed away. But suddenly he heard steps. Johnson had to act, and he knew that perfectly. The chances to run away were low. He stood up and putted on his backpack. He got closer to the door and opened it with a faint creak. At the end of the long corridor was a big window. Approaching it, he realized it was snowing outside. All the landscapes had changed over night. Instead of piles of autumn leaves, there were tremendous snowdrifts. Only dilapidated gray houses provoked the same fear and despair as yesterday. Johnson''s eyes were slowly getting used to darkness. He almost felt comfortable. Finally, he reached the door he was searching for, but hadn''t he even managed to touch the doorknob before he was punched right at his head, and fainted. "Fuck" he said before losing consciousness. . . . He was sleeping a soft mattress. Johnson couldn''t even recollect the last time he had done it, slept with pleasure. And as always the pleasure couldn''t last long. The curse ghost whispered his left ear. "Wake up. Continue your way. Find Amy" "Amy!" he jumped off the mattress. His eyes opened and he stunned of what he was looking at. Papers with drawn faces fully covered all the walls around. "Where the heck am I?" said Johnson standing up. This room had no windows, so the only light source was a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. He quickly looked over the area. Amy and the backpack were somewhere else. He noticed the door. It was locked. Suddenly, he heard someone knocking on it. After a minute pause, the door swung open, but no one was there. Now a whole universe of smiling faces appeared his view. This narrow but extremely long corridor was also decorated with papers. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.The lamps that stood along blinked sometimes. The world around extinguished, leaving Johnson alone with darkness. Then the suffocating hall burst light again. It was raining outside. The rain pattered the thin walls, echoing here and there. These sounds filled the building with mock life, but it was hard to believe someone was here. Johnson had nothing more to say or notice. It was impossible to determine if it was a day or night, how long he had been sleeping, and who had brought him here. At the end of the hall Johnson found the way upstairs. Full of determination he moved forward. Suddenly he heard beeping of Amy. So he started running. Without even looking what was the old man doing with Amy, Johnson jumped on him. They rolled over the dusty floor for a few feet, wrestling. Johnson tried his best, but the luck was on the old man''s side, he managed to push Johnson away and grab a gun from the near table. "Stay where you are" he shouted Obediently, Johnson sat still "Don''t you dare touch her" he said angrily "I don''t want to harm her" responded the old man "Then let me take her! She''s my only reason to live!" cried Johnson "You''re also a harmed one, I see" "Then fucking let me take her, you, old fool who can only imagine what I passed through!" "Heh... you''re very wrong about that" he said woefully, looking at the window beside "Have you ever eaten mushrooms growing on the wall, while hiding of Tempos?! Have you ever drank your sweat to save water?! Or do you want me to kill everyone you love, like they did to me?!" "I have no intentions to kill you or this little girl. Everyone I once loved is long dead" said the old man. Then he stepped aside to let Johnson get to his daughter. Johnson rushed to her and hugged the capsule. "I know how you feel, even better than you do" said the man "How did you know that she''s a little girl?" asked Johnson quietly, looking at him with a slight contempt. "Once I was like you, searching for vengeance and slaughter. But time heals. Years pass and you don''t notice how old you become. Anger fades, but loneliness stays. I''ve buried many of my relatives and friends" "Then why did you take Amy?" asked Johnson, voice shaking "Amy... so that''s her name. I wanted to take sure if her heart was beating. It''s been a long since I saw or touched someone alive. I dragged you to my bed, spoke with her a little, she is a good girl, and was about to place your stuff in the room you were sleeping, when you came to kill me" "Okay, if that''s actually true, I''m sorry..." said Johnson approaching the old man for a handshake Chapter 4 White light was streaming out the window and drawing a tiny square on Johnson''s back. He and the old man were sitting on a green rug, a bottle of vodka between them. The old man was scratching his long-bearded chin, wrinkles all over the grim face, bald head reflecting smooth sun rays. "Where did you get it?" asked Johnson "In the basement. If I''m going to die soon, at least I can do that happily" he said laughing Wet, moss-covered planks beneath creaked of a slight move. Johnson and the old man spoke about their life, you know, that kind of pals soul-warming conversation. Sometimes room fell silence and none of them had anything to tell. Tiny leak above them spilled water. One by one drops thudded the floor. "How long have you been here?" asked Johnson "I''ve been counting sunrises for a long time, but stopped somewhere in the middle" he said "About 5 years I guess" taking a lazy sip of his little glass "And what have you been doing all that time?" logical question followed "Have been repairing thermal implants like yours" said the old man. Suddenly disgust appeared Johnson face. Marcus, that was his name, quickly caught up the moment "I had no deals with Tempos''. My wife was also locked. After her death I promised to not let any victims of those lunatics die. None of us is hurt like capsule-locked. And we need to talk about your thermal implant - Amy" he said "What do you mean?" "Thermal implant is a high technology and can only be produced by qualified companies. But sometimes capsules are made wrong. The weakest point of this technology is that it includes human organs, it makes the product cheap, but also vulnerable. Human heart is getting boosted strongly and can chemically produce incredible amount of heat for years. Gladly, as rumors tell, Tempos started making fully mechanical capsules, but that''s not our case. Amy''s heart little by little moves to the right, it''s dangerous. If her heart moves few more centimeters'' it will tore apart and she''ll die" From disgust Johnson''s face changed to pure shock and anxiety "Then let''s fix it, until it''s not too late" "The temperature inside it is too high. It will explode of pressure if we open it" said the old man "Then let''s lower the temperature" "I guess it will take too much time" "I can''t let her die!" cried Johnson. He stood up, wobbling a little of alcohol running his veins, and started shacking Marcus'' shoulders "Think, Marcus, think!" he shouted This scene lasted for few minutes. Little by little anger accumulated. "I can''t! I would like to, but I fucking can''t!!" shouted the old man. He abruptly stood up, the bottle flipped and broke to pieces. "Fuck!" Marcus anger was absolutely real unexpectedly for a man Johnson knew for few hours, the pain actually was shattering his heart, one more victim was about to die in front of him and he had no way to prevent it. Marcus approached the window, wishing to crash it with his fist. But suddenly he froze. The idea popped his mind. He ran to Amy, grabbed her and left with words "Let''s go! We have a chance! Take my instruments"Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. It was very cold outside when Johnson came out the building with an instrument case under his armpit. Blizzard was so strong he barely saw anything but blurry shadows. Then he heard someone scream "I am here!". He rushed there through snowdrifts. After getting close enough he saw Marcus strewing Amy with snow, the old man quickly pointed at the shovel lying the ground "Take it and help me!". Wind whistled loudly, so every sound was scarcely legible. In few minutes they stopped. "Okay, I turned off all her heating processes, so her heart is now beating slowly. Let''s hope the snow will help" said Marcus. He had no coat, so he was shivering. His nose was red as ripe apple and words as shaky as earthquake, but he didn''t care. They watched as the number on the indicator gradually decreased. Steam stopped coming out of the snowdrift Amy was buried. "It''s not over yet. Now I need to place a fixator and avoid spilling out the fluid" said the old man, his beard fluttering the wind. Marcus opened the capsule and touched the oil-alike fluid with the tip of his finger. He abruptly winced. "Shit, this will hurt!" he said, taking a flask of whiskey out of his pocket. Greedily drank it to the bottom and started placing the fixator. He shouted unstoppably, his hands were literally boiling in the stew of oil and organs. Sometimes he screamed for some instrument. He sat there for about ten minutes. At some point his pain vanished, his nerves got boiled to numbness. "Got it!" he said. Then he placed his both hands into the nearest snow "My hands are dead. It seems I won''t be able to drink few last beer bottles" he chuckled All this time Johnson was mouth opened. He was holding back his tears, even though they would just freeze on his cheeks. The old man was kneeling in front of the metal capsule, dying but still repairing it. "She''ll be fine" said the old man, closing it. "Let''s take you home, you''ll die this way. Do you have some aid kit?" cried Johnson nervously "None of it" laughed the old man lying on the soft, snowy ground "Wait! wait. I cannot just let you die!" said Johnson, searching for anything in his back pack "Here definitely must be something" "Calm down, John. Better help me stand up" said the old man. Johnson swung him onto his shoulder. When they got back, Marcus lied on the purple coach, coughing. Johnson was checking all shelfs, drawers and wardrobes around for some medicine. "Hey John!" said Marcus. "What?" responded a shacking voice from depths of the house "Get me a beer bottle from the basement" "Wait, at first I need to..." "John" said the old man indignantly "Okay" said Johnson with a gasp He trudged down the stairs, so old they were cracking under his feet. Nothing he could see but one lonely bottle standing on the shelf, but when he took it, tears were impossible to hold back. A photo of the old man and his family was right behind the bottle, little to the left, a company of friends. The past of Marcus was already covered dust and spider web. Johnson putted the photo in his pocket and went upstairs. "Here you are!" said the old man happily "Let''s share few last glasses" "Yes" said Johnson with a mock joy, trying to cheer up both himself and Marcus. He took a small chair and placed it next to the couch. Two small glasses got filled to the top. As Marcus couldn''t drink himself, Johnson poured all the booze right in the mouth of his pal. "Now it''s better" said the old man with a sigh of relief, eyes closed "Here. Look. I found it down there" said Johnson Marcus'' eyes opened again " Yeah, Helen. I miss her. What a great times we had" he said laughing. "Why are you laughing?" "No, it''s nothing" said the old man, laugher slowly subsiding. Then it fully fade, and that seemed to be the end. "Marc?" No response "Marc?! No response "Fuck!" shouted Johnson punching the floor "Again, and again. Why? God, if you exist tell me... why?" the room fell silence. He stood up, head tilted down. He drank all the beer in his glass. Then he calmly, almost whispering, said "Thank you, old idiot" and hit the glass on the nearest table so aggressively the glass shattered to splinters. Johnson threw his glance at Amy outside. Chapter 5 Passing bushy woods and valleys in an apocalyptical world it''s easy to lose the track of what''s going around you. Landscapes change so quickly in your eyes they get blank and gray. Johnson didn''t care about the world around him since the beginning of his way. He was always inclined to deep reflection. No soothing chirping of crickets he heard, nor he much cared about the weather. Tons of gray storm clouds could gather the white sky dome and he wouldn''t even notice. He had no feeling of nature delight or fright. A lot days passed since he had last seen anything but white colors. Snow crunching under his feet, snowflackes blocking his view, and trees all decorated white. Sometimes he saw dreams, sometimes even while walking. Summer, this definition was still in his head even though the last summer he had seen was at his childhood. Some dreams showed his fears, some made him cry and some just stirred with reality. He saw creatures while walking at night, and none of them was real. Campfires were hard to make due the lack of dry branches. At night he sat the ground, almost putting his hands into the flame. If the day had been fortunate enough he would probably warm up some can of food. Then he just would close his eyes and fully dissolve. At the morning he would wake up covered snow and just would resume his way. Tiny piece of civilization he noticed at the horizon, the city. The risks were high. Every single civilian was a Tempo Soldier. Tall cement fence with electricized nets. Patrols with laser guns stood all around the area. Johnson took a binocular and commenced to weigh the pros and cons. Several minutes he stood motionless. He had no money. But eventually he wasn''t the one to make a decision. Dogs managed to smell him from a great distance. Few Tempo Soldiers were gradually getting closer. When he heard the shots he ran. Shotgun was a good weapon, but not for this range. This time the luck was on his side. He managed to make a hook around the city. Even further his way he noticed an abandoned mall. His savings of food had almost nothing to offer him today. Can of corns, and bottle of water. For some reason it even seemed quite enough to fulfill his hunger for this night. However, he didn''t know what would happen the next day. Maybe he wouldn''t even meet a single building for the next few days. So he decided to enter the mall.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Johnson once had feared abandoned buildings, but now exploring them was just a routine and some sort of game. All them were quite the same both at structure and charm. Main entrance was closed. He found a fire exit with an old rusty padlock, that was rotting from inside. It broke down of the first shotgun butt hit. Vast area welcomed him. No light around. He could hear as rats were crawling walls and the roof. Solitude and darkness made Johnson''s mind create some hallucinations. At the far corners he saw black silhouettes staring at him with their glimpsing white eyes. He tried to ignore them. He sipped a bit of his water bottle and started searching. The first place he decided to visit was a supermarket. Sign 1+1 = 3 was still hanging above the doorframe. Most of the shelves were empty. Some wires were hanging from the paneled ceiling, gladly the electricity was off. When he had been passing by the the electric shield beside the entrance he wanted to switch the lights on, but changed his mind. Now he was really happy about his choice. Great puddle stretched all over the floor and the wires were touching its brown surface. Even though some shelfs had products left, many of them were long expired and covered moss. Eventually he found only one can of beef, which was actually a good finding, and a pack of crab flavored chips. According to his calculations this amount of food would take two days to devour, if he planned his nourishment properly. Also he grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the near shop. He didn''t smoke, but at least he could sell it. So it was over for today. And as always it was better to stay inside. He chose a tiny room. It seemed to be a stuff room or something, maybe nightguard had once been sleeping here. Even bed was at Johnson''s service for this night. He ate a pack of chips before going to sleep, placed Amy in the corner of the room and switched on heating mode. He took of his coat. At first it was chilly. Counterpane and pillow were both cold. Soon room filled warmth and other problems approached. Rats. Johnson wasn''t the only one to feel heat. In half an hour they were everywhere. Most of them were in the ceiling. The bravest one even got inside the room and started rubbing against Amy. Sometimes he felt someone crawling on him, but each time he opened his eyes no one was there. He tried hard to not think about it. It took him an hour to fall asleep. He woke up of another itching crawling on his chest. This time it wasn''t only a feeling. When he opened his eyelids he saw two black olive like eyes staring at him. At first the rat was calm, maybe stunned like Johnson, then it started peeping agressively and he left no choice but to throw it away.