Fifth Race

It's an age old adage, you don't need to be able to outrun the bear, you just need to outrun your companion. I had subscribed wholeheartedly to this idea, until it was my little brother falling behind me, slipping slowly into the jaws of hell.

There aren't actually any bears in Rekilm, the beasts we run from are far more calculated and even more tenacious than any animal you can imagine. They proliferated from the Earth's day of reckoning hundreds of years ago. A rapture without the salvation for the faithful. The world is now past any kind of civilised order, society is an ancient concept, each man and woman for themselves is the only way to survive.

So here we are, the two of us, streaking across the plains, hopping toxic puddles of acrid water, being careful not to catch our toes on jutting rocks. I keep my eyes fixed ahead on the distant battlements at the foot of the hills we are hurtling towards, the only hope left to spur us on. Despite the mortal danger I can't help but feel exhilarated every time my feet land with well judged precision and I can launch myself into the air. The momentary feel of weightlessness, already anticipating my landing and next three steps, it unlocks an elemental game within me and the animal under my skin is here to win.

I chance a look back and realise the creature is already starting to change. A Meta, usually tall and slender, pure white skin with a metallic, reflective sheen, now pinkening and softening to imitate our human complexions. The Meta has shrunk to match my brothers stature and is following his path exactly, only a few steps behind, a shadow locked on to a target, unwilling to let go.

"Jark, FASTER," I bark over my shoulder, knowing fate has already selected my brother and there's nothing I can realistically do about it. But neither of us are about to stop running. No one ever stops running until they are caught.

If I intervene I could probably get the Meta to switch its attention to me, but it would go against everything we are taught, compassion and noble acts weaken our bloodline. If I save my brother and he lives to run another day he is sure to be caught by another Meta, either in another race or whilst scavenging, then we would both have been an complete waste of resources. Strength, speed and cunning are what we need to nurture in our heritage for the sake of future generations. That's all life is about in the end and that's also what Deestim reminded me of right before he threw us both out of the transporter van ten minutes ago, it's just utterly fucked up he chose my brother for me to run against. 

The worst part is also yet to come. The idea of having to look Jark in the face and kill him is almost enough to make me betray my purpose and save him. But I know when I drive my knife through his heart it won't actually be him, it will be the Meta, and it's imperative I do my part and take it out. That will be a good as Jark's legacy will get, one less Meta on this stinking planet. 

"TILLY I CAN FEEL IT, IT'S GOT ME." Jark's desperate yell cuts through me. Primal protectiveness soaks my insides, both hot and cold, almost taking hold of my limbs and forcing me into action. But it's too late, he's right. The Meta has him, the creature running in step behind Jark is no longer a shadow, it's a copy, looking every bit as terrified as Jark does. It's movements the same down to the tiniest detail. I could mistake what I'm seeing for double vision, as if I had crossed my eyes on the scene. The next part is going to be messy and I resolve to not glance over my shoulder again, not even once. The trouble is, I've seen the dissolving happen before so I can't help but see it in my mind's eye, the heinous act that will bring the end of my brother.

"I'm sorry Jark," I faintly utter as I continue to run, there's no chance he heard me over his screams of agony and the duplicated screams of the Meta that has taken his voice too. As my brothers strangled yells fade to wet, gurgling moans, the echo ends, I can only hear one set of running footsteps and I know it's time.

I swerve into the Meta Jark's path and in one swift movement I pull out my dagger, spinning it around with my whole body, using as much force as I can muster, right into the creatures chest. I don't miss. Being off target was never an option. If it had come down to a fight I'm sure I would never have been able to maintain my resolve to kill my brother though a sustained struggle. The Meta Jark's eyes widen in shock and the stolen body of the last remaining member of my family immediately sinks to the dirt.

I stop for a moment, just a moment, to silently ask Jark for my forgiveness. He knew 

how this race was going to end, how he was going to be taken. It was never said out loud between us but he could never outrun me, he was always going to be a footnote in my struggle against the Meta. That awful species, that parasitic race, that metallic, impenetrable skin. We have to force them to become us, to become fallible to be able to kill them. We start as the bait, race to avoid being the sacrifice and if we prevail, and prove our worth we turn into the prized, the ones destined to become ancestors, our duty to produce more like us, brave, fast and sacred.

"That's it Tilly, your fifth race won. You've earned your place." Deestim opened the gates to the complex for me, no one else is around, no fanfare or welcoming party. I walked the final few minutes to the colony, risking another Meta catching up to me but my arms and legs felt too heavy with feeling to muster the energy to run anymore. The image of Jark's lifeless body weighing down on my shoulders.

"Why did you have to choose my brother?" I don't even want to look at Deestim but I find the resolve to lock on to his eyes. I can't recognise any emotion in his expression. Stoic as ever, so I look away.

"Come on Tilly, he was the weakest option in your league, I wanted to make sure you came back to me." Deestim made an attempt to take my hand but being in no mood for his affection I wrenched it away and pushed past him, heading into the complex to be on my own for as long as I'll be allowed.

If I had kept looking in Deestim's eyes a second longer, maybe I would've felt the beast staring back at me from behind the familiar green. If I had let him take my hand, maybe I would've sensed the metallic sheen still lingering in his pores. Maybe if I wasn't grieving my brother, I would've noticed the slight inconsistencies in his tone, and almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.

Maybe if I had stayed, I would have been able to save them all.