The Overlord: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

by Jared Paul

  "I doubt your intentions are so noble," I disputed. "Do you actually desire to rebuild a broken world or do you aim to finish the job that broke it?"

  A female's voice then spoke out from behind me, "You've clearly changed, my Overlord."

  I turned around to find Captain Sentria. She then proceeded to unlock me from my restraints. Rubbing my newly freed wrists, Sentria placed a consoling hand on my shoulder.

  "Know that the Thralldom has changed too," she added.

  Zero pressed further, "Mankind will continue to struggle so long as its heroes do nothing."

  "The time for calling ourselves heroes has long been gone," I snappily petitioned. "The time of heroes is over."

  "Are you familiar with the science behind an aphelion and a perihelion?" the Commander inquired, bidding to change my mind.

  "Please, elaborate," I commanded. I had heard the terms before, but my memory hadn't chosen to serve me well.

  "If anything in this universe happens to orbit a star, it reaches a point of aphelion when it's farthest from its sun," Zero explained. "During this elliptical revolution, when the point in orbit comes closest to its star, a state of perihelion is achieved. Doctor, you've just passed from out of your aphelion, and through your return, we've all come within touch of perihelion. Our star has come near. Will you help us reach for it?"

  "We'll just see about that," I sneered.

  I looked back over to Captain Sentria. She was proudly holding herself up. I was almost convinced she took faith in Zero's zeal, but her eyes told a different story. It was all an act. She was putting on a show, just playing along. Her allegiance clearly wasn't to the Commander or the Thralldom. Zero didn't know it and I expect no one else did either, save for me. What exactly was Sentria up to? If she wasn't a Thrall at heart, what on Earth was she?

  I then turned back to the Commander, "I'll help you with your little mission into the wasteland, but then I'm gone. I want no more of this."

  The Commander respectfully saluted with a fist over his heart. "You'll find a full dossier on Fever Island up in your chamber. I trust you remember the way. It's the same place it's always been, just the way you left it."

  Sentria then held up my confiscated contraband, the Dragon's Tooth and the Dragon's Throat. "You'll be needing these back. It was an honor to hold them for you."

  As I retrieved my armaments, I studied her one last time. Eventually, I knew everything would play itself out. In the meantime, I thought it best that I keep the knowledge of her performance to myself. Making my way back toward the entrance, I didn't get very far when a thought came to mind.

  "Oh, one last thing," I said as I swung back around.

  "Anything," obliged Zero.

  "I was wondering if you could tell me where I might find Choke, my old assistant." The chess of our conversation wasn't quite over. I had just moved one last pawn with the drop of that name.

  It took Zero by great surprise. "Dr. Chokeberry? You're friend disappeared when you did. Went missing after you left and hasn't been seen since. There's a rumor that he fled into the outer wasteland, but nothing survives out there for very long. Odds are, he probably got flicked a long time ago. I'm sorry."

  His answer revealed no trace of lying, but even so, there was still the possibility that Zero wasn't telling me the whole truth. I had only asked about him because Chokeberry seemed like a match for the Underlord on Fever Island. Choke had assisted me with my creations since the very beginning. He was easily genius enough to advance the Blood Tech beyond my control. All the same, I didn't want Zero to know what I was thinking. I thought it best to keep my perceptions to myself.

  "Sad to hear," I devised. "I had something to tell him."

  After turning to leave, I was almost gone before Zero called out from behind, "What was it that you wanted to say?"

  "That our life's work wasn't worth it," I replied with my head swiveled just enough so that I didn't have to fully turn to face him.

  Zero mocked, "The power we shared was boundless. We became God to this planet, if only for a little while. Was that not worth everything?"

  Entering into a reserved rage, I warned, "If you want to play God, there's something you should know. God didn't destroy the world, he saved what was left of it. It's us that killed each other."

  Stepping away from him, I can only imagine what his reaction must've been. He was out of sight, but I could feel his ice blue eyes piercing into me from behind. My life's work was the very thing that I knew Zero was after. I was going to have to keep close, discover his secrets before he discovered mine.

  "Dunia duara. The earth is round." I recited the Swahili proverb to myself as I walked away. "What will be, will be again. Dunia duara."

  5

  THE PRESIDENT

  Back in the present brig, I, Solomon Boone, was facing away from the cell entrance when I began to hear an electric rattle from the barrier wall behind me. Zapping off, the barrier receded into the edge of the doorframe. Turning around to investigate, I found two United Corps guards pointing their assault rifles straight for my head.

  I wondered if it was the "verdict" of my hearing. Without ceremony, they were simply going to kill me off right here in my personal prison. Can't say I'd blame them. I wouldn't take anything personal about it if they did.

  Just as I closed my eyes to embrace fate's end, I heard the tapping steps of one who walks with authority. The confident feet strode between the guards and halted right in front of my position. When I opened my eyes, there was a woman standing before me.

  It wasn't just any woman. It was a lady, to be exact. In this wasteland world, a lady is just about as rare as a gentlemen. I had only known one and she was standing right in front of me, with arms carefully crossed and a gentle nod that could calm a wild sea.

  The lady was President Ember Nightwood. Clad in a pair of coveralls, she was a strong willed, no-nonsense individual who just so happened to be the leader of the United Corps and the whole of the Free World. A Chinese immigrant who was raised with the best of Canadians, she never let the color of her skin or her accent get in the way of telling people what was what. If a knockout punch to the face could come across graceful and elegant, it would best describe how President Nightwood handled her responsibilities.

  Concerning my alleged war crimes, Nightwood orchestrated my hearing in a manner that can only be described as forgiveness, even though justice still took precedence. Here, inside of the "Beast of Burden," my judgement has been the subject of much deliberation in a conference room down the hall.

  Life or death, the President was at least going to find a use for me in the few hours I had left in her custody. Nightwood was the one who put me up to making this account. She had told me that she'd never believe a single word when it came to history. She firmly believed it was all just fables within legends, but Nightwood encouraged that those stories are who we are, where we are going, and that those are the kinds of stories that people need.

  Her tongue spoke out softly like a smooth, sharp blade, "I am told that you wished to speak to me personally. You may speak while you still can."

  I urged, "Ma'am, you asked me to tell my story, but it isn't the complete story. I want to get this done right and I need your help to do it."

  Nightwood smiled, "Whose story do you think you need, if not your own?"

  "Yours," I said bluntly.

  Quick and light, she responded, "What exactly do you think my account can add to your record? I have only really known you for a few hours." She then somehow managed to laugh without causing me any personal offense.

  I recalled, "Two nights ago, I saw a United Corps shuttle docked in the airfield of the Lair. That was the night that the Overlord, may he journey in light, returned to the Thralldom. You were there, Ma'am. Weren't you? What were you doing and what happened?"

  The amused look on her face suddenly vanished. I was pushing personal boundaries, it was clear to tell, but felt it was a worthy gamble for the sake of history. Nightwood
broke eye contact as she considered out the port window above my head. Her crossed arms then swung down and she twirled away to leave without as much as a begrudged response. I safely assumed I had just lost the only friend who was advocating for me. More disappointingly, I sensed a great loss to my own curiosity.

  Though she had gone, I noticed that the barrier wall of my holding cell hadn't come back on. The guards were still lingering in the opening, not showing any signs of leaving any time soon. Right then and there, I once again wondered if this was to be my final moment. Before I could even flinch, though, the President returned.

  Upon the corroded room's only table, Nightwood slapped down a scuffed up touchpad with a cracked screen. I reached for the damaged device and inspected its display. The screen revealed an official United Corps report on the night in question.

  "Normally, I do not share events from my personal life, but privacy is not a luxury that people like you and me have," informed the President. "We are both too involved. We are too high up to hide things from the rest of humanity. People deserve to know it all. Neither of us have the right to keep the secrets that belong to us. For you, that is the price that all crimes must pay. For me, it is a required sacrifice that costs every leader. The report that you hold in your hands is being released as a public record. Everyone will soon know its contents whether I want them to or not."

  With that, she hastily departed from my cell. Thankfully, the guards went with her that time. I could finally relax as the barrier wall closed behind their departure.

  Focusing my attention to the battered touchpad in my hands, I dived straight into the report. It was in Ember Nightwood's own words. Completed through her own heart and mind, it was like an artwork of information.

  ▲

  Let me tell you how this time came to be. The world fell beneath its own fury. Victory was found by none. Weakened from our struggles, a new power took reign. The brainchild of Dr. Deadstock, this birthing power was our liberator, our preserver, our protector. That is, until the line between genius and madness became blurred.

  The outcome was nothing new. Mankind had always been careless in his ways. The energy known as the Blood Tech simply served as an exorbitant reminder.

  Mysterious and unethical, the technology was a new form of sustainability. Powered by blood cells, it only required a few drops for fuel. The effect supplied immeasurable energy to our uncountable industries. The potential was unlimited.

  With such versatility, Deadstock and his Thralls easily taught themselves how to turn the Blood Tech into weapons. The earth had never seen such a destructive supremacy. It was around this time that Dr. Deadstock was called by a new name. The people began to call him the Overlord.

  Yet, at the height of his power, the Overlord fled the planet for unknown reasons. He took with him the only way to control the Blood Tech, the Wandering Star. In taking it, his absence locked all the calamity down until the day he ever returned. I remember well as his celestial ship rose into the sky as our nukes dropped down onto the surface.

  It was a final hour that would forever be dubbed as the Last Day of the Last War. This hour ended all we had known, leaving mankind to fend in the shambles. Like pressing a reset button, the nukes changed everything. Whoever survived became the new supremacy, the only authority left.

  If only the world knew in that hour what the Overlord was trying to do. We were adamant on bringing an end to his war, but so was he. By the time we realized he was on our side, the nukes were already on their way.

  Some survivors speculated that a division had split the loyalties of the Thralldom. In a schism that forced the Overlord to leave, he left to preserve his own life, rather than that of the planet. Others believed he left in regret, to escape his own shame. Whatever reason, all theories shared a common thread. Before he departed, the Overlord joined the technology with his own bloodstream. He became the Wandering Star and it became him.

  Recently, the Blood Tech thought to be dormant was awakened somehow. Only one thing was ever capable of such influence and that was the Wandering Star. Which could only mean that the Overlord had most certainly returned.

  I needed to find out why he was here, especially after all that time he had been gone. Most likely, he had come back for something. If he got ahold of whatever it was that he had come for, there was no telling what casualties might arise. The very presence of the Blood Tech's heart could power cities, but if misused, it could annihilate all life on the planet. I directed to my staff that if they were not already praying, the time had come to begin.

  After the Last Day of the Last War, United established a peace treaty with the Thralls. The source of each other's power had gone missing and both parties agreed to protect the sanctity of life, whatever was left of it. With this olive branch, I have often gone to the Thralldom to commission their assets for espionage and other mer

  cenary work. The Thralls usually oblige, coming out of their Lair whenever mutual interests arise. Of course, I have never had any doubt that they would stab us in the back as soon they had the chance, but the feat would prove unachievable as long as the key to their power remained absent.

  As of late, the current head of all Thrall operations, Commander Zero, requested clearance for what seemed to be a routine intelligence mission out into the wasteland. Both of our forces had been dealing with the violent Echoes for some time. Their next move would certainly be their last. On good report, the rogue population was apparently developing an EMP known as the Plague of Phantoms. Zero committed that this was a shared threat that needed to be extinguished as soon as possible.

  Since the Free World held the whole wasteland as its own territory to control, I would have to oversee Zero's proposal to enter it. As President, it meant coming all the way out to the Lair just to meet with the Thrall Commander in person.

  I had crossed into their borders a countless number of times. Somehow, it always felt like entering a dream. It would begin normally as I traveled through forgotten deserts and cities in ruin. Then, as my transport approached their boundaries, I would begin seeing these odd looking structures on the horizon. They were just trees, but they always seemed to take me by surprise. Trees are exceptional occurrences on this dead planet. They are so rare that the youngest generations back home do not even know to call them trees. The children call them green towers. The Lair of the Thralldom had been encircled by thousands of such towers.

  At the heart of the forest was a series of waterfalls that surrounded a field of green grass. Upon its center sat a colossal pyramid of glass, numerous stories high and overrun by all sorts of plant life. Among many of my settlements in the wasteland, not even a blade of grass will grow. The Free World had its sanctioned gardens, but they were never anything like the grounds of the Thralldom.

  The Lair had accumulated great beauty over years of isolation. Yet, it was all just an allure, nothing more than a recruiting technique that worked all too well. Too frequently, their wonders baited youths to their side.

  Despite all the splendor, the unique constructions, or the technical prowess, I could never escape a revelation that the Lair was also a wasteland. The Thralls were under constant manipulation, surrendering their freedoms for prosperity. They were all lost in the most dangerous kind of wasteland, the wasteland unseen.

  Between other things, there was an airfield, a network of tunnels, and a traditional set of militaristic structures all around the crystal-like pyramid. Through my many visits, what I had always found to be the most surreal was never the Lair itself. It was always the sky above it.

  An odd-looking crescent moon consistently hung over the forest. It never seemed to fade throughout the day and would outshine the real moon in the night. It might have tricked those of lesser minds, but most knew that there was only one moon and it could not move from its place in the sky. The second moon of the Thralldom could. The crescent object could tilt from side to side, coast from one end of the Lair to the other. Sometimes, lightning flew out from its curva
ture into all directions.

  It was actually the flagship of the Thralldom. The "Lunar Wrath," as they called it in the Last War. The aerial craft was the most formidable adversary in every atmosphere. The evenings that I saw it up in the sky, however, it was nothing more than a watchful nightlight. The days of its ferocity had long been over, or so I prayed.

  It was nearly dusk when I arrived at the Lair to approve Commander Zero's proposal. The sky was darkening and the rain of the night was turning into steam as it poured down upon the heated glass of the pyramid. Every time a stream of lightning would hit its peak, the whole structure seemed to glow like a strobe light. In the flashes, I caught glimpse of a ghost.

  6

  THE HAUNTED ONES

  In the pouring rain of the night, I had come to the Lair under political obligation. After all was said and done, a piece of me decided to stay just a while longer. Delaying my transport's departure, there was someone else that I needed to speak with. I could see him from afar. He was an old friend, a ghost walking away in the pouring rain of the night.

  Thunder smacked and the clouds wrung out. The drenching shower did not seem to bother Dr. Deadstock as he ascended a secret flight of outer stairs up the pyramid. The steps were all automated. Each level would only appear when he moved up from the proceeding one. The steps behind him would then quickly disappear into the slanted surface.

  The stairs led to only one place. At the peak of the pyramid was the Overlord's chamber. When he finally arrived at the summit, he was soaking wet all the way through. Two heavy panes then swung open before him and he disappeared into the darkness of a doorway.

  I knew of another way in. Desiring to see him face to face, I took a direct elevator up to his room. I wondered as to why he would choose to walk in the rain, not using the lift himself.

  When I arrived at his chamber, the lift opened up to a melancholy corridor. It was dark, but the lightning outside was consistent enough to reveal what was laden on the hallway walls. There were various pictures, posters, and old headlines that all spoke of the Overlord's rise to power. The images portrayed initial good intentions of safety and enlightenment, but as the corridor went on, the stories grew increasingly dire. Hostility and fear became the subjects. Then, a pattern of casualties, outcomes of the Thralldom's power.