Both Katie and Sarah's auras had ended when it touched their actual bodies. This aura continued into the body, morphing from mostly indigo to a dull violet, allowing him to see the figure's face and body. It was difficult to make anything out, like looking at a negative of a picture.
The aura caused Drew to stop. The figure was crouching down and didn't seem to be aware of him. Considering he was holding a bright glowrock, that meant they were either blind or physically prevented from seeing him. The bright circle of light emitted from the glowrock ended about 20 feet and dimmed until it reached the limit of mana sight, where it was nearly impossible to make anything out. Focusing into the darkness, he was able to see what he thought was a wall.
Lack of immediate threat reminded Drew to cast his buffing spells, unsure of their status over the past few days and having completely forgotten to recast them before he left the exchange. It was a bad practice that Drew had no intention of allowing to become a habit.
Blade barrier and mana shield surrounded him briefly in their comforting yellow light before fading away. He realized that he couldn't see his own aura and had no idea if mana sight would allow him to see buffs or not. Filing that thought away for later investigation Drew considered his options.
He was sure that the aura wasn't human; the fact that the body emitted a violet light led him to believe that it was probably a wereghoul. They had been human and were transformed into another shape, plus the orcs had been built stockier and shorter.
Frowning to himself Drew considered his options, he had killed a lot of things since the Advent started, but they had either been trying to kill him or they were giant spiders, and giant spiders probably deserved to be killed anywhere they were found. He shivered involuntarily at the thought of the Spider Queen that had almost killed him. He didn't like the idea of killing another human, or something that once was human.
From experience, he knew that the carts that he was looking for would be in the hallway just past the normal sized door. The problem was that he was pretty sure that was exactly where the wereghoul was. He wasn't sure how he felt about killing something that had once been someone he might have known.
Rob and Juan were gone. He understood that logically, but how much of them was retained when they had changed? Rob hadn't attacked them when he had come to recover Juan from his tomb. But was that because they were only coming to get Juan or because he was still Rob underneath all that and he remembered Drew? What about the one that had attacked him right before the fight with the spider queen?
A dozen other questions along the same vein popped into his mind, but he realized that he didn't have a way to answer any of them. He looked around and didn't see any other auras. This was the best chance he had of getting one alone and maybe getting some answers to his questions.
His shoulder twitched; the last time he had started a fight on his own it had been ripped apart. He pushed forward, careful to keep his steps as quiet as he could. He realized his hands were shaking and stopped about ten feet from the door.
Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Drew's heart was beating wildly as he gripped the glowrock tighter, looking at the bright red flesh between his fingers. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. He could do this; Katie and Sarah were depending on him being able to do this. But his shoulder twanged again, and though the pain he had felt was fleeting, that was because Sarah had been there to heal him. That wasn't currently an option.
He tapped the half-attached piece of chitin on his chest. He had armor now, more spells, and he could escape much easier if he needed. The shaking slowly stopped as he regained control of his body. Katie and Sarah were counting on him; he couldn't fail now.
Stepping forward, he paused to listen at the door. He couldn't hear anything through the heavy-duty metal, nor could he see anything through the glass pane. He braced himself and turned the handle, or at least he tried to turn it. It was locked and wouldn't budge. "Right, that makes sense. No point in leaving the door unlocked when no one's here." He said to himself before casting acid dart.
He waited a moment for the spell to eat through the door and into the latch. The shaking returned, less severe than before, as he was forced into idleness.
Drew ran a hand through his hair. Then he tried the knob, and feeling no resistance, pulled the door towards him. Stepping carefully into the dark hallway beyond, he looked to the left, and not seeing anything with either normal vision or mana sight, turned right towards the figure and where he remembered the carts being.
His footsteps were slow, quiet, "Hello?" He called out when the aura appeared in his vision again. It stopped all movement except for its head, which turned to glance at him, it's lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth. Up close he could tell it was a wereghoul, the faint wisps of mana that infused its hair mingling with the rest of its aura had made it difficult to tell before.
The strange effect of mana sight made it difficult to make out many of the wereghoul's facial features. It seemed to consider him for a few moments, but it's lack of movement gave Drew some courage and he took a few steps forward, looking behind him and wishing he had Katie with him to block off the back.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he said in his best calming voice. Approaching the wereghoul like he would a strange dog. "I'm just here for the cart. I need it to carry my friend who's hurt." He continued talking, having learned that it wasn't so much what he said but the tone of voice he said it in that most animals responded to. The wereghoul took a step back as Drew approached, ceding territory to the human.
Drew glanced behind him again, afraid that something was going to ambush him from behind. When he turned back, the wereghoul had used the momentary distraction to jump towards him. With a thought, a fireball rose to meet the wereghoul's form. It exploded on contact about 10 feet from Drew, and the concussive force of the blast in the confines of the hallway washed past him, causing him to stumble. He already had a cone of frostfire moving to fill the space.
The aura around the wereghoul disappeared, the green mana within it slowly darkening. Drew carefully walked towards it, the frostfire ice underneath him giving a strange sizzle he had never noticed before as he stepped on it. Drew cast dancing blade as he went, wanting a melee weapon at hand. He was unsure what exactly it took to kill an undead were-creature.
It was clear that it wasn't just playing re-dead by the lack of aura, but Drew nudged it with his foot just in case; it didn't move. He attempted to turn it over, so he could look at its face. It had landed on its stomach, but he only got a handful of hair for his trouble. He shook the hair free of his hands in disgust rather than fear this time, then pulled more carefully, grabbing the softening flesh, which squelched unpleasantly as small bits of it came loose under his fingers.
Once he successfully managed to turn the body over he realized that whatever magic had been keeping it from decaying was rapidly fading. The hair covering its body was rapidly falling off and flaking away. He brushed the fur away from the face, wanting to see if he knew who it had been. With a few seconds of work, Juan's face became evident.
Drew rocked back on his heels. "I'm so sorry Juan." He looked over at the carts; both had been struck when the fireball killed Juan. He examined them and found the blast had broken a wheel on the first, and the second had three flat tires. They were both different makes, so it was impossible for him to trade them out without a significant amount of effort.
He stood up with a sigh, glancing over at Juan's body, he arranged the arms in a cross over his body, then crossed himself, "I hope there's life after this, Juan. You deserved better than this. We all do." He clenched his fists, looking around for something soft he could hit, but didn't find anything. He cursed under his breath. He cast fireball on Juan's corpse to immolate it, not wanting any of the scavengers to get to it.
Turning away, Drew walked slowly out of the loading bay, up the ramp, and down the street. He cried then, letting the drops hit the ground without wiping them away from his face. It wasn't fair; he didn't ask for any of this, he didn't ask for people to look up to him, to depend on him. If he was in a safe place he had a feeling he would be a mess, but instead, he locked it away in that dark corner of himself and moved forward.
Looking up at the exchange to see if Katie was still watching, he saw that the wall had been replaced. He turned towards the freeway, for the first-time in...a week? Maybe more. He wasn't sure about time anymore. He was going to leave the base and he wasn't sure what he would find, but he doubted it would be anything good.
He passed the guard shacks; there were no bodies, blood, or signs of violence in any of them. There should have been at least one guard out here. When it went dark, what would they have done? Go into the building or try to go home? He looked around but couldn't find any indications of what would have happened to the guard.
Another 80 feet of walking had him across the street from the freeway. The wall that divided them was only about 4 feet tall at this point and made of unadorned concrete. He climbed on top of it, looking out over Anacostia Freeway. There were a couple of car wrecks on the road, not many though. The advent had happened at some time between two and three a.m.; most people had been off the streets at that time.
The other side of the wall had a 30- or 40-foot drop down into some trees and grass that served as a sound barrier for the freeway itself. Lines of girders separated the three lanes of northbound and southbound, as well as blocking the road from the frontage road on the other side of the freeway. On the other side of that was Joint Base Bolling. Studying it in the morning light didn't give him much hope--there was no movement, and the only sound was the occasional animal cry.
The world felt strangely isolated and empty. He had become used to the constant hum and buzz of modern-day city life, and the silence unnerved him. He finally wiped his face; the sun and exercise had calmed him enough to stop his tears and he didn't want to encounter anyone with streaks down his face.
"Stupid toxic masculinity," he muttered to himself. The world had ended, and he still felt the need to appear strong. With a jump, he pushed himself off the wall, casting gravitas to lighten the gravity enough for him to pass over the trees and grass below. He landed roughly. His legs pretending to run in midair and keep running after he landed weren't enough as he hit the ground hard, rolling into the fall.
He lay on his back on the asphalt and stared up the sky. The joy he felt in jumping eighty feet without injuring himself felt hollow, not quite enough to lift the oppressive silence of the world around him. This was the world now: a silent death trap. He sighed and closed his eyes, "This fucking sucks."