Titus (The Anno Ruinam Book 1)

by Caleb Byrnand

  The Fall

  Inside giant underground warehouses the bodies of millions of clones are being cryogenically reanimated. Lifeless shells lying in wait for a spark. Hundreds of elders stroll the facility marking the bodies with blood and swinging chain censers like burning pendulums, creating a beacon for all the lost souls--soon to be summoned from around the world--to find.

  All around the world at specific locations, elders are preparing for a ceremony, one that will open the gates of hell. A synchronised ritual to summon millions of souls with the intent of powering their army. The sounding of the trumpet will bring about the cleansing of the world, and the Guardians will march en masse to rein in the survivors of humanity.

  Under the Antarctican ice, Elders Sacro and Desdom, the Moirai, Dumachus and Simon are stationed in the central control room, watching the LED timer tick down. Simon stands up and reads a series of prepared passages.

  “The earth also is defiled under the inhabitants thereof; because they have transgressed the laws, and they that dwell therein are desolate.”

  On the bow of the boat chugging its way to land, Titus looks up as if something on the wind has grabbed his attention. Another sense stimulated. Deconstructing the bio-electric signals his new brain produces is a challenge, but one that is becoming easier with time. As his body, mind and spirit become more aligned, his sensitivity to the living world around him grows stronger, his awareness stripping him of blissful ignorance. He knows the prophecy, but failed to grasp what extent the church’s wrath would take.

  “The day of the Lord will come like a thief, in which the sixth seal will open to behold a great earthquake.”

  A pickup is racing down a highway leaving a long trail of dust in its wake. With the accelerator flat on the floor, Elias careers down the road with determination and desperation. In the passenger seat a pregnant woman is screaming through labour pains, their desperate bid for hospice care diminishing with every passing contraction.

  “Every soul will taste of death. And ye will be paid on the Day of Resurrection only that which ye have fairly earned.”

  Noah has donned his flight suit and struts down the runway towards his assigned jet fighter, ready to engage with simulated enemies as per regulated training schedules.

  “The sun will be black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon will be red as blood. Therefore, the inhabitants of the earth are burned, and few men remain.”

  The clock counts down. Sacro buries his chin into clasped hands as he watches the countdown degrade the number value to zero. His heart stops, his breath is held. His entire life’s work and that of every elder before him has come to this point. Fruition or failure are the only two outcomes now and there is no backing out.

  In their main cathedral a child is escorted down the aisle. In a hypnotised or drug-addled state, the young boy removes his robes and lies atop an altar; an image of purity and innocence presented like a lamb to the slaughter. Ceremonial blades are laid out carefully and deliberately. A dozen robed elders circle their sacrifice, ready to enact the act.

  “The earth will be completely laid waste and completely despoiled, for the Lord has spoken this word.”

  The chanting from the secured locations across the globe build to climax. The energy from the crescendo makes the world take pause, for in this instant, nature is no longer in control. Held with steady hands, the blade finds its target and takes aim. The virgin skin of the child’s chest invites the resolution of the ritual, and with the fall of athame comes the fall of humankind. The blood flows and the child dies. The start of a new age is born. The Anno Ruinam.

  Jason has concluded his invasive screening process and is granted access into the fold. He sits in a pristine white room awaiting his gift of registration. An imposing Guardian has injected his body with life-giving nanotech; technology that will free him of pain and injury, and is inserting an Atom Chip during the calm before the storm.

  Held high in the air, gravity pulls the blood from the ceremonial knife drip by drip. The monks complete their ritual and wait. Sacro begins to sit up in his chair, the first time he moved since the countdown stuck zero. His silence is interrupted when a massive knock from deep within the earth wakes up whatever demonic forces have kept dormant for eternity. The concussive drum is experienced all across the globe, and like a hush falling over the crowd, people stop and wait.

  Jason, ever determined to be in the know, addresses his Guardian, “What was that?” but the Guardian just gives him a little smile. Jason quickly comes to a realisation. Doomsday. The Guardian returns to finishing a now smiling Jason’s registration.

  Camilla starts breathing normally and causally asks, “What was that?” just as all of the electronics in the car fail and engine conks out.

  The pickup silently coasts down the road with Elias screaming, “No, please God no!” as he smashes his hands on the wheel.

  High in the air, flying just shy the speed of sound, Noah is in his element doing what he was born to do. Without warning every digital display goes dark, the jet engines fail and the aerodynamic piece of metal falls out of the sky.

  Noah remains incredibly calm for someone experiencing total system’s blackout. The radio is dead, none of the buttons, switches or manual restarts have any effect. Then Noah notices that his wrist watch has stopped.

  Damn.

  Noah reaches down and pulls his emergency exit. The ejection seat firing him through the Perspex canopy, 20G of acceleration hitting his body as he does his best not to pass out. The parachute opens and catches the air, all the blood rushes to his feet and it takes a moment to make it back to his brain. He can see his plane cascading down, but something more awesome fills his view. Way off in the distance several volcanoes erupt and the whole Earth begins to shake.

  Jason was right. Damn. Damn damn damn damn!

  CHAPTER IV

  The Fall

  The astronauts in the International Space Station are the last to be hit. Even through the radiation shielding they experience system wide failure. Their orbit would stay strong for many months before Earth’s gravity would regain victory, but they would be dead long before then. All they can do is breathe the unfiltered and rapidly cooling air and look out the window to see, for the first time in their lives, a dark Earth.

  Tectonic plates grind against each other like irregular puzzle pieces being forced together. Volcanoes rain fire and acid over the land destroying crops and contaminating water sources. Ash fills the sky blocking the view to the heavens while the people on the surface endure hell. The San Andres fault line cracks and the whole west coast is torn from the country and pulled under the sea.

  Landmarks that make up the world culture, history, innovation and experimentation, monuments to our greatest achievements, all fall into the earth’s fresh wounds. Nature does not discriminate. Capital cities fall, dam walls break, all the money spent on natural disaster movies pales in comparison to the beauty in destruction nature can provide. Or the destruction of beauty, depending on your perspective.

  The great warehouses filled with catatonic clones suddenly come alive when the souls of the damned possess their lifeless bodies. Automated registration machines start branding the herd and incapacitating them till they are needed. Many robed individuals circulate the floor ensuring their new army has a smooth transition, and take the mark.

  Everyone takes the mark.

  CHAPTER IV

  Titus

  The Chanty bobs up and down, dead in the water. There’s no wind, nor a sail to catch the non-existent wind. Covered in engine grease, Cap’n is sitting on the deck with her crew and the runaway, enjoying an aged rum and salted crackers. Their eyes, off in the distance, are watching several columns of ash contaminate the horizon.

  “Looks like the world ends with a bang after all, not a whimper.” Rosita looks around for acknowledgement but is denied. Even in the end they refuse to indulge her humour.

  Titus has just been given a second life and is not about to give up
now. He looks at Cap’n intently for a moment, probing her mind for information. She sips her drink, letting the warmth comfort her as she swallows it down, failing to notice Titus staring.

  When he enters a person’s mind, the world around him slows to a near stop as echoes and whispers fly past. The ship’s captain’s thoughts and ideas are fluid, and finding relevant information towards a solution is hard. All roads led back to the engine, then the drive shaft, then eventually to the propeller.

  Titus closes his eyes and begins to focus his thoughts, his energy, finds a clarity through concentration and flinches. The sudden movement and acceleration of the boat nearly knocks the prized bottle of rum off the card table and all three sailors look up in shock.

  “How fast do you need to go?” Titus could be accused of showing off now, but this miracle is just what the crew needs.

  “As fast as you can sir.” Cap’n rushes to the bridge barking commands to Tony and Rosita on her way past. “Dump the cargo, the nets, anything that’s heavy and we don’t need to survive. Go!”

  Titus remains seated, concentrating on spinning the propellers and moving the boat towards land.

  CHAPTER IV

  Noah

  A pond of deflated military silk ripples in the wind, tethered to a now empty and elaborate flight seat. Noah has availed himself of his helmet and mask, breathing in the air of the new age. Dirt and ash.

  He looks around in the dark to try and get his bearings. Nope. He’d have to settle for direction then. He pulls out his compass, brings it right up to his face, pivots his body, taps it a few times, pivots again…

  I thought east was the other way?

  Looking up at the stars the southern cross jumps out at him and he reorientates himself to the east. Compass still reads west. He puts the compass away.

  On foot it is.

  Guided by the stars, Noah sets off into the night.

  It isn’t long before Noah finds his bearings, now guided by the sound of the ocean and the lit bonfires in the centre of the modest U.S. Airforce base. He isn’t sure what to expect. Relief and aid stations, coordinated efforts with local authorities in rescue…

  “Halt! Identify yourself!”

  Two guards wearing HAZMAT suits step out from the darkness blocking the path with rifles drawn. Noah instinctively raises his hands. There is something definitely familiar with the timbre of his voice. Noah squints his eyes to see through their fogged face shields to see eyes as wide as dishes.

  “Glen? Raythe?”

  “Yea?”

  “It’s Captain Noah you dolts. Lower your weapons.” Noah suddenly realises his heart rate has increased with blood rushing to his face and hands. Was that a close call?

  “What are you doing out there?” Raythe asks. “We’ve been nuked!” The two are in absolute shock to see him alive. This amused Noah. There has been little to laugh about for a few hours so Noah took this advantage to get in a chuckle.

  “You had a horizon of five kilometres, I had one of three hundred and fifty. I’m telling you it wasn’t a nuke. It was an earthquake. And volcano. Maybe something else, but not a nuke! It’s safe. Kit off. That’s an order.”

  “But the EMP…”

  “Was from an unidentified source. I don’t know what yet but I’m telling you, you’re fine. Who else is here?”

  The two hesitantly unbuckle their masks and gloves. The suits confine with movements and the guards struggle with taking the suits off. “You’re the first one that’s returned. All the locals ran, some of the officers too. There’s only the Major and a few noncoms left, holed up inside the mess.” Noah expected that. Morale at the base has been shaky at best, and when faced with a disaster of this scale it makes sense most would opt to secure loved ones before securing their place of employment.

  The sun begins to splinter over the sea’s horizon; the first uninterrupted ray of light hits him in the face. His eyes stay trained on the water but something’s not sitting right. He pulls out a pair of binoculars from his kit bag and stares out towards the sea.

  “What time is it?” Noah asks, well aware that nobody’s watches will be working.

  “Feels like zero five hundred.”

  “It should be high tide, but look how far out it is.” Noah hands the binoculars to Raythe and he scans the horizon for a moment before finding something else to focus on. Off in the distance a boat has come aground and four people can be seen running towards land. Towards the the base’s fires.

  “I’m counting four castaways heading this way.”

  Noah suddenly realises he has spent the last four hours marching towards his death. “This is bad. We need everyone to get up the control tower. This whole place is going to be underwater very soon. You two, go to the tower and make some room. Chuck out stuff like filing cabinets, desks, computers. I’ll talk to the major.”

  “What about them?”

  “They still heading this way?”

  Raythe obediently looks back through the binoculars to check. “Yes.”

  “So what are you worried about? Vámonos!” Glen and Raythe leave their HAZMAT suits in the ground and run towards the air control tower. Noah takes a second to catch his breath before heading towards the mess hall.

  The Major. She is fierce. Hated being called ‘sir’. Good C.O. Expected to find her still here. She has dismantled several radios and appears to be constructing a battery using conjoined jars with metals and liquids.

  “Good. You’re back.” She doesn’t even look up. Too busy, and yet somehow all knowing.

  “We have to move everyone and any supplies we have into the tower, now. The sea level has dropped several meters meaning…”

  “I know. Tidal wave. Start with this.” She hands him her make-shift battery and radio as she gets to her feet and begins to evacuate the injured personnel. Noah stands there inspecting her handiwork for a moment before exiting.

  Outside, strewn across the base of the tower are several large desks and filing cabinets. The two have made quick work of clearing space. The major is escorting the two injured noncoms up the stairs while another officer is dragging food and water up. Noah looks back out to the ocean to see that the tide has come back in and rising fast. The tower is located on an embankment high above the water’s edge, but not so high as to be free from danger. The rising sun disappears over the new growing horizon as the four castaways make their way towards relative safety.

  CHAPTER IV

  Cap’n

  The sand is wet and deep, good for breaking in horses, not running for your life. The rapidly incoming tide is a bit of a worry, but the bonfire ahead is getting brighter. Or maybe everywhere else is getting darker. Silhouetted figures scurry past their beacon, action suggestive of panic rather than peace.

  They know too.

  “How much time do we have?” Tony asks in desperation. It wouldn’t matter where they ended up when the wave hits, but self-preservation dictates they run all the same. There’s land, there’s hope.

  “Minutes, at best,” guesses Cap’n. This is her first experience with a tsunami as well.

  As they reach the embankment a soldier stands at the ridge screaming encouragement in the form of profanities. They scale the three-meter-high rock face and are greeted by a smiling Noah.

  “Get inside, we can go through formalities if we survive this. Welcome to doomsday.” Directing them towards the traffic control tower, he stops dead when he sees Titus up close. “We will definitely need an introduction if we survive this.”

  Titus looks to the little tower, out to sea, then to Cap’n. He’s thinking the same thing. We’re fucked.

  From inside the tower somebody yells, “I can see it!”

  “Come on you four, we gotta move!” Noah is standing at the door to the tower waiting impatiently. Rosita and Tony enter first, but Cap’n hesitates, looking out to the approaching ocean. Titus puts his hand on her shoulder and addresses Noah.

  “Will this structure be able to survive that?” Pointing
out to the wave visibly swelling in size.

  “You believe in miracles?” Noah is unable to offer any other response. There is none.

  Cap’n looks to Titus, expecting to see the look of someone who carries a heavy weight on his shoulders, but in this moment, something in his eyes change.

  “Not today.” Titus uses his telekinesis to throw Cap’n and Noah inside the tower, slamming the door behind them. She checks the door but it’s jammed. Noah with furrowed brow turns and runs up the internal stairs to the observation deck. Cap’n fast at his heels.

  “What does your friend think he’s doing?” Noah’s longer legs allows him to step two at a time quite easily. Cap’n alternates between two and one depending on what her short stride would allow.

  “We only met him yesterday. A stowaway, from Antarctica.”

  “Great.”

  He sounds like Rosita.

  They reach the top level; a small dodecagonal workspace encased with windows. Glen and Raythe stand shoulder to shoulder watching inevitability run its course, counting the seconds down. Major is with the two noncoms doing her best to keep them calm and comfortable. Noah runs towards the east window, looks out and sees Titus standing directly in front of the tower at the edge of the three-meter cliff. Facing off with a ten-meter-tall wave rapidly approaching at over one hundred miles an hour.

  Cap’n looks to her crew. Noah was right. Nothing shy of a miracle is going to spare them what awaits. As Noah is trying to get Titus’s attention Cap’n turns to him to say, “Are you sure you want to spend your final moments worrying about the doings of a stranger?”

  The notion of dying doesn’t seem to compute for Noah. Probably from the years of being a fighter pilot. Or just a folly of youth. “I don’t intend to die today but I do intend to learn what he is doing.” Noah takes a breath to try again when he his field of vision in filled with the enormity of the tidal wave. “Shit.”