Page 109 - RKJ 2019 Online Flip Version

The Legacy
The Turks by Mo Gallagher
AJ Hateley
Everything was in shadow, as if all happiness had been drained from the
world. Around him, the deafening roar of the helicopters had subsided, as
had the stampede of boots on the barren rock, and the thunderous gunfire
of a hundred automatic rifles. Nevertheless, the sounds continued to echo
in his ears. Or his mind; he could not tell which. His body was still,
restricted by the agonising wounds it had endured, now nothing more than
a numbed shell. He was trapped in a prison of flesh and bone; alive, but
alone.
Zack opened his eyes slowly, for even that simple act sent ripples of
pain cascading over his forehead. He felt the gentle rain on his skin for the
first time, trickling down his cheeks like anxious tears. The sky above the
Wastelands had grown overcast, the storm clouds gliding solemnly across
the lofty heavens, observing him, taunting him. Far below the cliffside,
lakes of glassy silver were forming in the craters of the ordinarily-arid
plains, and the landscape was shrouded in a murky haze, somewhat
veiling the looming silhouette of Midgar.
He sipped at the air, each breath excruciating as it fought to enter the
collapsed lung on his left side. As his surroundings took shape, a gash on
his temple began to sting, the oozing blood blurring his vision. His
garments were heavy and sodden, clinging to his legs and torso, but he
could not bear to look down, hanging on to a distant hope that they were

soaked in water and not stained in red.
For what seemed like an eternity – though it may have been only a
fleeting moment – he watched the tranquil droplets tumble to the Planet,
listening as they struck the ground and puddles developing around him.
Everything hurts…but, that means there’s still sensation…
With tremendous effort, Zack curled his fingertips, immediately touching
the leather handle of the Buster Sword. Knowing that the magnificent
blade was still nearby comforted him, but he no longer bore the strength
to wield it. He gripped the hilt lightly nonetheless, as it was a connection to
the real world, one from which he was beginning to understand he would
soon pass.
The prospect of death did not frighten him, but he was saddened by the
idea of leaving behind his friends and family. He thought of his parents in
Gongaga, and how they might forever wonder what became of him; he
thought of Aerith, tending her flowers at the church in Sector5, feeling an
ache in his heart worse than any bullet in his chest; and, finally, without
even a remote suggestion of bitterness or regret, he thought of Cloud, the
companion for whom he had sacrificed everything.
Cloud…where is he…?
The Shinra commander had presumed the blond fugitive dead,
displaying a degree of humanity the Army had not reserved for Zack. The