Benjamin lamented all that had brought them to this point. The New Reality and Open Society had failed her people, and now all of them were left to suffer. Few understood what The New Reality had perpetrated as most lived their lives blindly, lead like sheep by this world-wide behemoth.
“Ken, Sue, Darrel, Jake” Benjamin commanded, placing a pinky on his auricular chip, “get to either side of the hole in the wall; hit them as they attempt to climb the rubble.”
He knew these were the most limber and quickest of the bunch. Unless a mass onslaught awaited them, they would definitely prove to be a valuable deterrent.
“Christine,” Benjamin pointed with his sword, “take Murph and Glenn over to that open doorway. Make sure no one is on the other side.”
“And if there is?” Christine asked.
“Stay alive,” Benjamin said.
Ben knew he had no other options. He hoped that Christine’s agility from dance and gymnastics would prove advantageous. Plus, her speed would complement the brute strength of both Glenn and Murph.
“Get the Natives,” yelled the first Loper as he stumbled over the rubble, pointing into the room.
Benjamin cringed at the term. Used by the Lopers to identify anyone who lived in the city during The Disease or nanosplicers infestation, the name was hurled upon them with disdain. He loved this city, what it stood for, and the people in it. And he was ready to fight to the end to defend it.
Before the first Loper could gain a footing, Sue dexterously impaled his throat with her sword. Now choking on his own blood, the man fell to his hands and knees gasping for air. Another Loper attempting to enter behind him stumbled over the man. Taking a baseball swing with a metal pipe, Jacob bashed in the man’s skull as he attempted to grab the wall for support. The Loper fell backwards and onto a husky woman also making an effort to enter.
Since all weapons had been confiscated by The New Reality, people were left to fight with whatever they could find. If they didn’t have a sword, stick, or pipe, they were prepared to rip each other apart with their bare hands if necessary.
“Don’t let them enter the room!” yelled Benjamin. He knew the bottleneck in the wall was his only advantage. Allowing only a certain number of people through at a time, it would give him and his people a fighting chance. But if enough Lopers were able to gain entrance, their superior numbers would prove unbeatable.
A few more Lopers were bludgeoned or impaled as they attempted to enter. Benjamin knew that if they continued this haphazard assault, the only thing that could impair him and his friends from defending their position would be pure exhaustion.
Maybe we should take shifts, Benjamin momentarily contemplated, to make sure we don’t fatigue ourselves. As another Loper lurched over the rubble, Ben personally struck the man on the neck with his sword. Due to the artifact’s age, the blade broke near its hilt, leaving him with what appeared now to be a dagger.
The man was then kicked and beaten by those surrounding Benjamin until he was no longer moving. All able-bodied people still in the room stood guard in a semicircular position around the breach in the wall. In certain places, they were two to three deep, each prepared to defend their stronghold.
Benjamin looked over to the open door and saw Christine with her two companions clamor through the rubble into the adjacent room. God help her, he thought, hoping it would be empty.
After another few Lopers met their quick demise after attempting to enter the room, all momentarily went quiet. The attack had suddenly ceased.
Have the Lopers left? Benjamin wondered. Were they deterred by the early losses? Did they simply move on overnight?
Benjamin held out his arms. “Stay back,” he said while slowly walking on the rubble to obtain a better view of the outside. Because the Art Museum stood on a hill, he could not ascertain how many people were outside the building. With only a view of the sky, he needed to be standing on top of the rubble to obtain a better view.
His friends in the room cheered at their initial victory. “Give ’em hell!” yelled one. Benjamin’s enthusiasm certainly did not match theirs. Forced to barricade themselves in the museum just a few days ago, he recalled how over 100 Lopers had forced them into confinement, hiding for their lives.
The chirps of a morning bird and the crisp smell of a new spring day greeted him as he stood on top of the rubble looking down towards the Susquehanna River. For a brief second he remembered rowing along the water with his friends, enjoying a beer or two they smuggled on board.
The harshness of the reality now afoot crushed any fond memories. The Lopers’ numbers had drastically risen. What was once 100 now seemed like thousands. Benjamin quickly realized why any reinforcements for his group had not come. If they had, they would have all met an unceremonious death or fled before daring to proceed any further.
Usually the optimist, Benjamin realized there was no hope. As he watched what looked like an endless sea of Lopers ascend the hill, he knew all was lost. The brief hope that the bulk of the Lopers had left the premises was crushed. Instead, he saw they were simply regrouping for their true assault.
***
The dim light twinkling in through a dirty window on the ceiling provided little illumination for Christine to see. Between the dust and darkness, any number of people could be hiding in it, and she would not know.
Murph shined a flashlight over her shoulder, brightening up the room. To her delight, they were the only ones in it.
“Glenn,” Christine said, “watch our backs.”
“Sure,” the former machinist responded, clenching a piece of wood with a dirty nail hanging out of it. More than eager to use this weapon against one of the Lopers, he was looking for a brawl. These invaders had taken his house, his belongings, and everything he owned but his dignity. He was ready for payback.
A slight rumble again shook the museum; the aftershock only proved to heighten Christine’s alertness. Murph’s flashlight jiggled in the process, making the movement a slightly nauseating experience.
“This must be some sort of storage closet,” Christine surmised, looking at all the shelves and massive filing cabinets. Some of the drawers were missing or half open. Trash littered the floor, and only a few parts of medieval relics remained.
“You see anything in there?” Glenn asked. His voice echoed from the other end of the room.
“Nothing useful,” she admitted.
Though narrow, the storage area was long and wound around the back of the building.
Turning to face Glenn, Christine hollered from the distance, “How’s Benjamin?”
“All’s quiet now,” he said enthusiastically. “I think we scared them off.”
Christine breathed a sigh of relief. She hoped that the rest of the Lopers had left long before the wall fell.
While she looked further into the room, she pondered the inevitable: leaving her beloved city. Even if they managed to escape, Christine knew it was time to flee the city. Philadelphia was long lost. Most of the original inhabitants had already bolted once the Lopers grew violent.
She knew it was time to begin a new life in a new place. She just hoped there was somewhere she could find, maybe even with Ben, that the Open Society had not infected, and where she could finally live a normal life once again.
An aftershock threw Christine and Murph to the floor. In the distance, she could see the roof and opposite end of the room collapse. Wood and stone then began to fall around her like an avalanche. Everything went dim after she was struck by falling debris; she could hear Murph’s voice implore her to get under the desk before all went dark.
Chapter 4
Chapter_4
The lack of oxygen burned Jules’ chest. Submerged under water, he fought off every bodily instinct to open up his mouth and breathe.
Must get out from under the stratoskimmer.
Clawing his way underneath it, Jules desperately needed air. His focus blurred by the second while consciousness slowly slipped away. As the world beg
an to blacken around him, his hand thrust out of the water.
With his last effort, Jules propelled himself to the surface and gagged up a staggering amount of water before taking in a deep breath. His vision began to clear, but a pounding headache took its place.
“Mr. Windsor!” yelled the captain.
To his surprise, the captain of The Caligula was standing in the stratoskimmer’s entrance beckoning him to come aboard.
Good show! Jules applauded at both his captain’s survival skills and pilot’s ability to stay afloat as the ship plunged into the waters.
“Mr. Windsor,” he again pleaded. “Take hold of the leverage raft.”
Realizing that Jules would never be able to board the stratoskimmer in such choppy waters, the captain threw down what appeared to be an orange log. Jules had stocked hundreds of these modern flotation devices on all his boats and aircrafts. Utilizing both its buoyancy and electromagnetic hydrophobic properties, the device not only floated but could also levitate on the water if activated.
The leverage raft struck the water as if it were a log. He had hoped the captain activated its hydrophobic charge, but to Jules’ dismay it appeared as if he had forgotten. Grabbing it, Jules looked around for any other crewmembers adrift in the waters.
“Throw them a raft,” Jules yelled as the waves battered him.
He could see a few crewmembers treading water. The waves must have pushed them further out to sea as they were at least fifty yards now from the stratoskimmer. Each looked like they would not make it much longer without help. Pummeled by the water, they were desperately clinging to life.
Bright yellow circular boats surrounded both him and the ship at a distance. These safety pods bobbed up and down in the water with their passengers harnessed securely inside of each of them.
The ocean began to grow eerily calm, almost as if someone turned off a switch, and the waves and rain quickly subsided. Jules tapped the auricular chip in his ear, hoping to order Drew to cease further experimentation on the shield until he had reached safety. However, there was no response.
Where are the lights on the pods? Jules thought, looking closer at the small boats. And why were they bobbing so erratically? Weren’t their stabilizers working?
After repeatedly attempting to activate the raft in his hand, Jules noted that it also was not working. Looking around, he realized that nothing was working.
Jules swam over to two crewmen closest to the stratoskimmer and pulled them towards the steps leading up to the ship. With the sea momentarily calm, he knew it may be his only opportunity to save them.
“Thank you, Mr. Windsor,” gasped the first man, grabbing hold of the stratoskimmer’s railing.
“There are two more crewmen out there,” Jules shouted while the captain and a few other crewmembers aboard the ship helped all three of them up the stairs. “Grab me the rope in the supply chest under the conference table.”
A crewman waiting at the entrance of the ship attempted to place a towel around Jules. He shunned the gesture and slipped the straps of two leverage rafts over his right shoulder. Looking towards the cockpit, he noted the entire elegantly-designed hull filled with crewmembers. Some were lying on the floor while others leaned on the walls or had collapsed on one of the white leather chairs.
Jules placed his hand on the wall to activate the telecommunicator. “George, what’s the status of the stratoskimmer?”
“Sir,” a crewmember interrupted, “the rope you requested.”
“George,” he then bellowed through the ship’s hull, realizing the error in his action, “status please!” Grabbing the rope, he peered over the black, oval conference table in the center of the room, awaiting an answer.
The pilot wearing a blue jumpsuit and cap gazed through the open cockpit door and succinctly responded, “Dead in the water.”
Before the pilot could continue, Jules reached out of the stratoskimmer and grabbed the tailfin above the door. Though slick, he took his other hand and pulled himself up and onto it before climbing to the top of the ship. In the distance, he could see The Caligula and The Billion slowly sinking. They both creaked as the sea pulled them to their deaths.
The two crewmembers he had spotted earlier were still alive. Both pleaded for help and waved their hands, hoping to bring attention to themselves.
“Grab these!” Jules yelled. After tying the straps of both rafts about five feet from one another at the end of the rope, he spun them around his head and threw the line into the water. The rope unwound until the rafts hit the water. Taking the loose end, he wrapped it a few times around his waist.
“Take hold,” Jules said.
A safety pod bobbed closer to the stratoskimmer. As it drew near, Jules could see the scared look on the four occupants’ faces. Strapped into their seats, these European bankers were used to being in control. Now adrift at sea, they were as helpless as a baby without a mother.
As both crewmembers lurched onto the rafts, the ocean began to swirl around a central point a few miles from their current location, dragging the stratoskimmer in its wake. Jules ran down to the nose of the ship and pulled in the slack on the rope, dragging the sailors closer to the stairs.
The captain and the first mate reached out and grabbed hold of the two crewmembers before they floated by the ship. As Jules leaned back on the rope, the captain and first mate, despite the injured leg, yanked the two out of the water. Assisted by a few others who joined to help, the waterlogged crewmembers were carried up the stairs and into the ship.
Untying the rope from his waist, Jules watched as the waters began to churn more violently around this central point in the ocean. The larger the waves became, the quicker the stratoskimmer, the escape pods, and the sinking boats moved in the water.
Jules sidestepped down the length of the ship until he reached the door. His eyes were on the ocean the entire time, considering what options he had available for escape.
“Bloody hell,” Jules commented, amazed at the raw beauty of Mother Nature.
The ocean at the focal point around which the water swirled began to rise up out of the water and spin as if it were a tornado. Instead of descending from above, this natural terror reached for the heavens in its devastating display of might.
Jules jumped onto the tailfin and swung himself into the ship.
“We’re going to have to close this door manually,” Jules said, sliding open a panel on the wall. A two-foot padded, cylindrical handle was located behind it. Grabbing it with both hands, he thrust it to the left until he heard a clink. Then, arching his back, he pulled on the handle and yanked it back towards him.
A cylindrical portion of the wall attached to the handle opened downward until another loud thump that echoed through the ship’s hull indicated it was in position. Jules then began to crank the handle in a clockwise rotation. Because of the mechanism’s counter-weighted system, Jules was quickly able to make the stairs ascend back up to the ship and seal the doorway in the stratoskimmer’s hull without much effort.
Jules then pushed back the crank mechanism into the wall and closed the panel behind it. As he turned, the boat began to rock.
“The ship’s still dead,” commented the captain.
In the commotion, Jules had not noticed how dim the ship’s hull looked. With little light filling its interior through the side windows, the area took on a bleak gray color. The dreary pallor of his crew’s faces only added to the overall dark ambiance.
The ship then lurched forward again as it rode what seemed to be a bigger wave. Everyone in the stratoskimmer’s hull hung on to anything secured to the floor, attempting not to fall.
“What is that?” shouted the ship’s first mate. Pointing outside the port window, he noted the large water funnel rising from the ocean as if conjured up by the mythical Poseidon himself. Other crewmembers lurched over to peer out the window. Careful to keep a grasp on anything to stabilize themselves, they gasped in horror at the site.
Jules took off his
jacket and carefully folded it over the bar next to him as if he had nonchalantly returned home from an uneventful day’s work. Without any apparent urgency, he then paced over to the cockpit while contemplating potential options.
This trait to remain calm even under the most inauspicious circumstances was Jules’ trademark and had brought him great notoriety within the company.
Jules entered the cockpit and strapped himself into the copilot’s chair.
“Admirable what you did out there,” the pilot applauded.
“Any other action,” Jules rebutted, “would not have been honorable.”
He then peered forward through the windshield and noted that the massive rotating water funnel had now reached all the way up to the clouds and caused them to also spiral in unison. He also perceived how a few safety pods caught up in this mighty water vortex would spin around the funnel until they almost reached the top before being jettisoned violently back towards the sea. As they neared the clouds, their red beacon lights would flicker on for a few seconds before their inevitable deadly drop into the ocean. As they smashed down upon the roaring water, the pods would crumble much like a plastic cup under a hand.
“I was able to utilize the natural polarity of the ship’s engine,” the pilot went on to explain, “to create a manual technique to at least steer the ship away from that massive funnel.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how much longer I can do it though. As that monstrosity gets bigger, so do these waves. Let’s just hopes that whatever’s going on stops before it’s too late.”
“You say you can manually maneuver this stratoskimmer of ours?” Jules asked.
“Yes, sir!” the pilot answered proudly.
“Then I want you to steer the ship right into the heart of the beast,” Jules said with a sadistic smile on his face, as if he were looking forward to what was in store for them.
“But that would be suicide!” the pilot exclaimed. “Just look at what it’s doing to the safety pods.”
The Final Reality (Alex Pella, #3) Page 5
