Episode 2: Decisions
The monster emerged from the darkness.
Steam drifted through the cavern like ghostly fog. Water dripped somewhere beyond the reach of their lights. The black rock reflected every beam in strange and confusing ways that made distance difficult to judge.
It was coming toward them.
Not running.
Not charging.
Coming.
Slowly.
Purposefully.
Mercer felt the familiar weight of the phaser at his hip.
Around him the team had become victims of circumstance.
Hale was trapped behind a jagged outcropping of rock with no clear line of fire.
Rainer had maneuvered too far to the right and couldn’t risk hitting one of their own.
The others were scattered through the cavern.
Even Kane was too far off to Mercer’s left.
Only Mercer stood directly between the monster and the rest of the team.
Only Mercer had a shot.
“Mercer!”
The shout echoed through the darkness.
“Shoot it!”
The monster continued forward.
A massive shape emerging from steam and shadow.
Mercer’s hand moved on instinct.
The phaser cleared its holster.
The weapon rose.
His finger settled against the trigger.
And suddenly he was eight years old again.
The house was loud.
Years later Mercer would remember very little about that house.
He couldn’t remember the exact layout of the rooms.
Couldn’t remember what color the walls had been.
Couldn’t remember where half the furniture sat.
But he remembered the noise.
The wonderful, beautiful noise.
Brothers arguing.
Sisters laughing.
Somebody always talking.
Somebody always moving.
The sort of noise that only exists in homes crowded with people who genuinely enjoy being around one another.
Young Mercer sat in a chair that was slightly too large for him and watched the front window.
Waiting.
Listening.
The moment he heard the truck outside he was already moving.
The front door opened.
His father stepped inside.
The old man looked exhausted.
Dust coated his boots.
His work shirt was stained with sweat.
The lines around his eyes seemed deeper than they had that morning.
Mercer noticed none of that.
What he saw was his father.
Home.
That was enough.
The room exploded into motion.
Children talking over one another.
Questions.
Stories.
Demands.
Everybody suddenly needing something.
His father stood there for a moment carrying the weight of an entire day’s work on his shoulders.
Then he smiled.
A real smile.
The kind that reached his eyes.
The entire room seemed to brighten.
Mercer remembered that smile.
Years later he would understand how tired the man had actually been.
How much responsibility rested on those shoulders.
How many worries he carried that his children never saw.
But at eight years old he only knew one thing.
When his father smiled, everything was all right.
One of his older brothers launched into a ridiculous story involving a broken wagon and a mule that had apparently decided it was no longer interested in being useful.
The room erupted with laughter.
Even his father laughed.
Mercer remembered that sound more clearly than anything else.
His mother’s laughter.
His sisters’ laughter.
His brothers laughing so hard they could barely finish their supper.
His father shaking his head and trying unsuccessfully to maintain order.
The warmth.
The safety.
The certainty.
The feeling that nothing bad could ever happen here.
The feeling that everyone he loved would always be sitting around this table.
The feeling children mistake for forever.
And standing in a cavern half a galaxy away, Mercer could still feel it.
“Mercer!”
The shout ripped him back to the present.
Steam hissed from cracks in the cavern wall.
The monster was closer now.
Much closer.
Its massive shape filled more of the tunnel than Mercer remembered.
The phaser remained steady in his hands.
Around him the shouting continued.
“Shoot!”
“Take the shot!”
Someone was moving toward him now.
Trying to get into position.
Trying to help.
Trying to survive.
The monster took another step.
Mercer’s finger tightened ever so slightly against the trigger.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered a fence.