by M.C. O'Neill
***
Civil warden Char’iss Haff’lyr presided over Defense Shelter 07 which serviced the south-central downtown district. That particular area catered to the city’s creative class. Artists, musicians, intellectuals and the like idled their days away at cafes like the Sea and Shell Trading Company or by waltzing through museums. Some made an honest effort by working on whatever projects were bouncing around in their brains, and others were just hoping to fall ideally in love.
She felt fortunate to be assigned to this neighborhood, as these gentry were known to be more rational and patient than, say, the riffraff of the Docks District. By the time she had skittered into the shelter’s entrance, the tunnel was already filled to capacity with cowering and screaming people. Not far down that districts’ main drag, a hellbeast was eating everyone that it’s seven heads could manage.
Dust and dirt clods from above rained down on everyone’s heads with each resounding thump of its massive feet. At least the dim lights failed to flicker as the mana was still flowing strong, the warden thought with silent thanks.
There was just enough room for Char’iss to shimmy between the screaming elves with strained effort. With each terrible thud, another volley of frightened wails filled the tight space. Spotting her pedestal, she shoved an elf who was dressed head-to-toe in silver away from it. This maiden was supposed to be some sort of a mime and she mimicked bull horns on her head with her hands as she made a disgusted, silent face. Anything for art, winced the warden.
“Can I get everyone’s attention? Please!” her microphone was competing with the cries around her and the pounding from above.
Nobody was listening. The loud thumps from the monster overhead were too much for the people to bear, but its horrible shriek was the worst. With each passing moment, those noises seemed to be getting louder. Everyone down there knew that the thing was getting closer.
“Please! Everyone! We need to keep the shelter’s door closed! There are too many of us for the space to contain!” the warden yelled through her headmic.
Looking over the people’s heads in either direction, she could see that each section of the shelter had already been sealed off. Each end of the tunnel was crawling with desperate elves and the situation appeared to worsen with each new addition to the cramped quarters. Char’iss knew just by a quick glance that there was no way this crowd could be sustained for more than a couple of hours.
“We need to make more room!” she shouted again as she too was infected with the fear of the crowd. “This shelter is far beyond capacity!”
Trash, juice boxes, even bottles were thrown at her feeble announcement. Voices of protest shot back at her. Nobody had the will to give up their tiny amount of space. “Please! I need at least fifty of you to leave and check with the nearest shelter for accommodation! We cannot sustain this number of you here!”
The last time she had coordinated a shelter assignment was when the Aldebarans had first revealed themselves. It had been such an orderly and peaceful arrangement as the community was already unified against a threat from Thuless’in. ADF guards had flanked her and the food and supplies were well stocked. This afternoon was different. Every elf was out for him- or herself, and Warden Haff’lyr stood alone.
“By the Twelve I will! I’m not going anywhere!” “I can’t close the door!” “Get off of me!” “To the Nine with the government!” All the voices from that dim crowd were frightened and many of them were very angry; very mean. “Hey, warden! How about you go first! HAHAHAHA!”
Little by little, the chant began and all eyes looked up at the harbinger of their doom. Char’iss couldn’t contain the horror in her eyes as she knew the crowd was now a mob and it would tear her to shreds. “Hells no! We won’t go! Hells no! We won’t go!”
Closing in on the lonely bull, Char’iss felt her body being lifted off the ground as the crowd surfed her hither and yon, until, at last, she was being led toward the door like a grand feast on a moving platter. Even the mime was carrying her aloft, except she was just lifting thin air.
“Say goodbye, bull!” one of the nameless of the crowd laughed.
Dropping the warden up into the open street, the weight of her armor tripped one of the elves in the mob, thus triggering an entire flood of his comrades to topple with him. Groans of pain and hollers of terror followed as the torrent of bodies were now out of the safety of the underground.
A large shadow cast over the fallen. With a grating scream that echoed louder than a mastodon, the behemoth reared one of its seven back for an easy picking. Warden Char’iss and a host of trapped elves were swallowed whole by the blithering face of the disgraced shedu in one bite. Their fate led them into the thelema-filled gut of that thing from the hells where they soon lost consciousness from the black stench.
Seconds after the head lifted off the street with its unfortunate catch, the shelter door shut with a loud thump. The silver mime survived the event.
