After ten minutes, the ground shakes with the sound of fireworks all around, then everything suddenly goes dark. A repetition of what happened to him at the docking ring an hour ago. Just on a much larger scale.
CHAPTER VI
Noah
In an elevator shaft again. With an elevator this time. For a few seconds they descend at such a high speed they are becoming weightless.
Have to remember not to destroy this one.
“Dinggggg.” Level five. Last stop. Titus walks out first. He figures it’s better that way.
Noah begins to follow him and is hit with an uncontrollable urge to stop in his tracks. His hand reaches for his pistol and feels the familiar sensation of the acrylic pistol grip in his palm. He watches himself slowly raise his arm and points the gun at Titus. Just a bystander in his own body, his finger rests over the trigger, he takes aim and squeezes.
“BANG!” The shot rings out, but fortunately the bullet bounces off Titus’s force field. Titus turns around and yells something at him but is unable to process anything which is said. He just turns the gun on himself and fires.
Fade in consciousness. Noah’s eyes open and come into focus.
I’m on the floor? His gun is way out of reach and a dead Guardian lies beside him. As he sits up to look around, Titus returns with a few fresh bruises. Something definitely happened.
“Do I want to know?” he asks Titus.
Titus is unsure how to respond. “No… But if you did I’d say this dead Guardian had something to do with you trying to kill me and then yourself.”
Uh huh. “Next time you can just stop talking after ‘no’.”
Titus subtly shrugs his shoulders as turns around to take point on their last leg. Noah hesitantly picks up his gun, unconvinced that holding it is an intelligent decision.
❖
Dumachus is standing facing the doorway and looking down the corridor, patience wearing thin.
Venark watches on, looking awfully sour, “While I do assume you were actually born in a barn or a stable, we civilised folk shut doors. Especially this door.” Dumachus does not even dignify him with a response. The old monk will not let it drop. “Why don’t you join them? You can shut the door on your way out.”
“Quiet old man. The door isn’t going to protect you. Not for what’s coming.”
This doesn’t even phase the tough old bugger one bit. “It’s not the first time we’ve had a rogue clone, son. You should relax, you have bigger problems you should be worrying about.” He has Dumachus’s full attention now. “This is only the start of the prophecy. The war, the final resistance. That’s what should be concerning.”
“I am aware. I have sensed it on the horizon. But right now my concern is with the immediate threat and not of what is yet to come.” His patience has run out. Dumachus calls in the two Guardians taking watch to take his place.
“What are you doing? These demons don’t have authority to be in here.”
Dumachus is already on his way out, “Would you feel better if I shut the door?” He exits the room and slams the two reinforced doors shut.
❖
Titus and Noah are making their way down the corridor carefully; checking their corners and moving quickly and quietly. Titus stops suddenly and Noah bumps into his back.
Without turning his head, Titus just says one word to him. “Run.”
Dumachus appears at the end of the corridor and as he makes eye contact with Titus he starts a slow-clap. Noah works out who he is and quickly takes his retreat as the two thieves slowly approach each other.
Noah sprints back towards the elevator when he sees a Guardian up ahead. He fires several shots at it, all of which are deflected. Noah takes a sharp right down an interconnecting corridor and tosses his pistol in a waste basket stationed outside a storeroom door. He un-slings his automatic shotgun and tracks his aim across the wall to where he guesses the Guardian is. Just before he reaches the corner Noah fires several shots. There is silence for a few seconds before a huge energy wave crashes into him, somersaulting him through the air. A Guardian full of bullet holes walks around the corner and past the bullet hole ridden wall. Noah is shook up and struggling to get up. The Guardian raises his hand and Noah’s shotgun flies out of his grip and through the air. As soon as the Guardian catches it he takes aim and fires.
“Click.”
Noah has a massive sigh of relief, but it’s short lived. Another shockwave picks him and throws him through a door into a dark room.
Noah picks himself up from the floor, brushing off pieces of wall. He looks around for an exit but finds none. On the back wall a row of waist height small reinforced loops are sticking out of the wall, remnants from the days when this room was used for storage. Noah throws his bag in the corner and runs to the back wall and secures his belt to the hoops. A second later his body is jerked hard to the right but he is saved by his belt. The Guardian enters the room suspicious that Noah hasn’t moved. He tries again and notices how he has anchored himself.
“Clever. Now I don’t have try to hit a moving target.”
The Guardian playfully does some shadow boxing as he advances towards Noah, except every swing and jab is transferred as actual force on Noah’s face and body. Busted lips, broken nose and a few cracked ribs later the Guardian is only a foot away. Noah begins to smile and laugh a little, taunting his attacker. He tilts his head to see past the Guardian’s shoulder towards the bag he threw down; an obvious invitation for him to look. The Guardian uses his telekinesis and senses that a half dozen grenades have been cooking for as long as they possibly can.
“BOOOOOM!!!!”
The Guardian throws up a force field just in time to shield himself from the explosion, but the force knocks him into Noah. They are now touching noses, but Noah is still smiling. He pushes the Guardian back and his knife is up to the hilt in the Guardian’s heart.
Noah removes his machete from his cover and swings away, cutting the Guardian’s head clean off.
CHAPTER VI
Dumachus
Titus and Dumachus are on their haunches, breathing deep after having expended a lot of energy in a short span of time. Every surface of the surrounding walls and ceiling has been crushed from what looks like wrecking ball damage.
Titus has several cuts on his swelling bruised face. One of his eyes has closed over, making it hard to judge distance, and the blood from his busted knuckles weakens his fist. He is very clearly losing this fight. Dumachus just needs to catch his breath and has a touch of sweat beading on his head. The nanotech has corrected any injury sustained.
Titus, very much the worse for wear, is first to reopen a line of communication. “We are just prisoners in a manufactured body; every thought you have, every action you do is monitored and recorded. You now no longer answer to god, but to the mercy of this machine. I look to free you from these bonds, how can you not see this?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m a believer. No argument or evidence will sway me. This is the way things are now, despite your disapproval. Look around you, the old world is dead, along with its gods. We are that all remains. How can you not see this?” Dumachus looks over Titus’s shoulder to see two Guardians covering the exit. “We will bring life back to this world.”
“You will bring servitude.” Neither side is going to convince the other of theirs.
Dumachus looking to finish this. This fight has helped vent some aggression but he knows all too well that Titus has no place being on Earth. Titus throws a wild haymaker which he easily counters by catching him by the neck and slamming him into the unforgiving wall. “The Elder wanted you alive, to bring you into the fold, register that chip of yours. But, seeing as he is now dead, I think it’s time to reunite with your new god, old friend.”
Titus looks him in the eye and smiles. “You’re probably right.” He produces a timed explosive and casually tosses it on the ground. The counter ticking down with only seconds remaining. The two Guardians charge in to help
contain the blast when Noah pops his head around the corner. Dumachus turns his head in time to see the muzzle of Noah’s gun.
How did I not sense him? Titus…
The bullet hits him in the eye and rips a hole through the side of his face. Dumachus goes down, the timer stops at 00:00.
Both Guardians with both arms raised create a force field around the device just prior its detonation. Only strong enough to partially contain the blast. Jets of flames and unforgiving blades of energy spew from fractures in their field. Big chunks of the walls and ceiling break away and the fire streaks black scars across the reinforced doors. As the force field is weakening and beginning to inflate, Dumachus manages to get on his elbow and raises his left hand to support the containment. Titus directs his aggressions to the occupied Guardians and breaks the closest one’s neck, collapsing the containment field. Whatever remains of the explosion fills the corridor, drowning anyone present in fire. With all the air burnt away the air cyclers begin working in overtime, fanning and dispersing the smoke. The reinforced doors open and Elder Venark pops his small round head out to inspect the damage.
“That’s why you always shut the door.”
Both Guardians die in the blast, but saved the day for their efforts. Dumachus has lost his left arm and left foot and suffered burns all over his body. Noah is nowhere to be seen. Now Titus is the one who looks the better of the two, managing to shield himself from the blast. Both he and Dumachus are getting to their feet. Dumachus’s wound are beginning to heal. It's a miracle he survived at all.
“You got close brother, you and your pet. I’m surprised, again.”
Titus is finishing what he started, and prepares himself for the final crippling blow. “Move aside.”
Dumachus fails to move, but has nothing in reserve to defend himself with and quickly finds his body flying into the corner of the corridor. Just as he is about to admit defeat, the sound of the elevator “Ding” rings through the hallway and thirty Guardians march in.
“Kill him.”
The last thing Dumachus sees before everything in the world goes black is Titus pulling out an ignition switch and depressing the button.
CHAPTER VII
Elias
The baby wakes. Hungry? Cold? Soiled?
Elias is heading towards a light in the distance, perhaps a shelter. A smell of food is carried with the breeze, the sound of people talking and laughing carries as well. A place to see to the infant’s needs.
A race ground used for Speedway nearing the outskirts of the city has been utilised as an encampment for survivors, with rows of erected tents large and small filling the green. The main entrance still being the only way in, Elias bites the bullet and heads towards it. As he approaches the front gates a Guardian intercepts him, holding out a hand scanner. “Registration,” he demands.
“I just need a place to see to my boy and then I’ll be gone.”
“Registration.” Like any good bouncer he is not letting Elias in without ID.
“Never mind.” Elias turns and walks away, feeling the eyes of the Guardian burning holes through him. Heading back towards the city Elias hopes they can find a safe place for the night after the hospital bust. With lightning speed the Guardian rushes ahead of him and blocks his path. With a glare of accusation he stares at Elias, looking him up and down.
“Curious.” He thrusts his palm over Elias’s forehead and begins to recall recent events, specifically the violent acts in the hospital. Elias tries to bats his hand away only to have the Guardian double his efforts.
“Hey, you! Come here. We got a problem.” A voice from inside the entrance interrupts the Guardian and breaks the connection.
Annoyed, he spins around to face his caller. “So do I.”
Elias is on his knees, recovering from the mental invasion. He is suffering from a pounding headache, blurry vision and a coppery taste in his mouth. Seth is crying his little heart out, red in the face with tiny fingers gripping his wrap.
“Mine’s worse. You need to get over here and see this. The whole system is down.” The Guardian completely disregards Elias and follows the voice inside the entrance. Elias gets to his feet and runs in the opposite direction.
Inside the foyer several Guardians and followers have gathered around a mobile computer, flashing the word OFFLINE. “This happened only minutes ago. I got a satellite to bounce me to camp seven, same there as well.”
“What of our nanotech?” The follower has never known a life without the safety net Mother provided. He runs his hand over the scanner to get a diagnostic. “Inactive?” In disbelief he grabs a small sharp knife and runs the tip down his arm gradually increasing the pressure till he makes a tiny nick and flinches with the pain. True pain experienced for the first time. It is only a single drop of blood, but it is real. Another follower runs the scanner over him and manually enters in the command to heal the scratch.
“Don’t rough yourself up too bad, looks like we will have to do things manually for a while. That includes registration. We’ll just have to archive that information until the problem is restored.”
“For how long?” calls out a small voice from behind the tall Guardians.
“Couldn’t say, but what I do know is that we are in the dark.”
With a menacing tone one of the Guardians finally speaks.
“And alone.”
❖
The city streets are cold and dark under an obsidian sky. The growing ash cloud in the atmosphere separates the heavens from the earth and the warmth from the sun. Survivors of the Fall are beginning to cluster around the various aid and registration stations the church of Light has established. One such station is burdened with many distraught people, and now the Guardians have abandoned their posts the growing sense of urgency in the crowd is left unchecked and building to critical. Two devotees of the Light are desperately trying to manage the recent surge of people without the safety of the Guardians or the umbrella security of the Church.
“Did you see where they went?” asks one of the followers quietly to the other--trying their best to disguise their insecurity and reservations for the situation they are now in.
“No idea. They took off as soon as we went offline.”
“This was never part of the plan, something must have happened.” Being left in the dark is measurably inconvenient for anyone, especially for those in a position of vulnerability. The process of registering people was taking a lot longer now that all commands have to be manually entered, and the people are becoming impatient. Especially the unsavoury looking group of men that are in the front of the queue.
“Hey, we nearly finished yet perra?” barks a heavily tattooed gangster. His three heavily tattooed mates are watching on closely as the man undergoes the final injections. The follower runs the scanner over his atom chips and registers him.
“Done. You are now registered with the Church of Light and have immediate access to our food and shelter. You should be feeling the effects of the nanotech correcting your body any second now.” To their amazement, the multiple abrasions and cuts on his body--presumably from the quake--begin to heal right before their eyes.
One of his boys come forward, “So this stuff heals you then?” Less of a question and more of a stakeout query. He pulls out a knife and drags it down the tattooed man’s arm, breaking the skin and drawing blood. The follower, shocked at the display, quickly rescans the man’s Atom Chip and manually commands the repair of his damaged arm. The cut heals itself and the men are now convinced.
“All and every aliment.” The follower is trying to seat the next person in line for registration but the gang is not budging.
“Every aliment, aye? What about this one?” The man draws his gun and shoots the follower in the head in cold blood. The second follower hesitates for a second, frozen in fear. With a missing toothed grin the tattooed man turns his gun to the frozen follower and fires. He didn’t stand a chance. The two dead bodies of the parishioners lie bleeding in the st
reet as the residents queueing for the mark disperse in a panic, leaving the gangsters alone in the centre of the relief station. The gang starts ransacking the station for anything of value, including the computers, scanners and injectors. “We can charge whatever we want for this shit. People will give anything for the cure,” the man says with a laugh. The gang grab as much as they can carry and getaway into the dark night.
❖
Elias can see the spotlight beacons set up at specific locations around the city, luring in the desperate and willing population from all around. The light is warm and inviting, but Elias has seen first-hand the other side of the coin and does not wish that for his son.
He has made camp in a semi-collapsed building that was an insurance firm. Nothing to loot so he should be undisturbed for the night, and taking refuge here has a sense of irony to it that he likes. The baby is changed and clean, fed and burped, swaddled and rocked gently to sleep. It’s been a few days on the job and he feels he is getting the hang of it now. Seth is making eye contact with him now and fighting his arms free when he has the chance. It’s hard for Elias to look back and not see Camila.
She would have gladly given her life for you to be born. The utter and complete dependency this child has for him, the helplessness and uselessness of an infant is staggering.
How did we even survive as a race?
A noise outside stops his train of thought. Footsteps. Three, maybe four men. Elias ducks behind a window and grabs his gun, ever so carefully pulling back on the hammer till it clicks. As the four men are walking past they are stopped as a Guardian drops down from the sky, his landing leaving an impression on the asphalt. All four men begin shooting at the Guardian but every bullet bounces off his force field. He holds up his hand for them to stop and they obey. Then to toy with the men he makes the shape of a gun with his hand and begin pretends to shoot the one on the left. The three other men begin shooting the man on the left until he is very dead. The Guardian continues this game with the man on the right, and the man in the middle until just the heavily tattooed man lives.
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