by Jared Paul
He exclaimed in an agitated state, "Where is it? It's not here! Where is it?"
Fossil tiresomely walked over to his little brother and asked plainly, "Where's what?"
"The Plague of Phantoms, you jumbuck," berated the Commander. "The very thing we came for!"
With a single glance, his older brother searched the room, "What's it even look like?"
Zero hotheadedly explained, "It doesn't look like anything! It doesn't exist!"
"The Plague of Phantoms doesn't exist?" Fossil had an equal look of bewilderment and fury, all at the same time. "You mean to tell me that we came all the way out to this pile of rock for something that doesn't even exist? What in the world are you even looking for then?"
"It exists in theory," Zero made clear. "It'd just be a printed diagram now, a construction chart for its creation."
"You mean like blueprints," collected Fossil as he pointed to the worktables. "Like the plans Sentria just took from that workbench over there, right under your nose?"
Enraged, Zero paced up to the older man, "You saw her steal the designs and you didn't think to tell anyone?"
"I didn't think anything of it," Fossil shrugged. "I was under the belief the weapon had already been built. In the mission briefing, you made it sound like we were looking for something real. I expected we would find something tangible. I didn't realize we were looking for some drawings on a piece of paper. What does it matter anyway? We have the Wandering Star. That's all we need. What use is the Plague of Phantoms now?"
Ceasing his fuming, Zero enlightened in a lower and much slower tone so that the severity of his every word could be clearly understood by all, "Yes, we hold the power now, but Captain Sentria has just stolen the only thing capable of bringing us all down. The Plague of Phantoms is the only weapon in this universe that can destroy the Wandering Star. It's what it was designed for. We just traded a yin for a yang. We need both to survive. Without the Plague of Phantoms, we might as well have nothing. As long as that little ankle biter has the designs in her possession, we are all doomed. Track down that double-crossing drongo and find that traitor before she gets back of beyond."
Fossil hit his radio and called out into every frequency, "All legions, this is a red alert. A deserter is fleeing the complex. Captain Sentria is on the run. Pursue to seek and destroy. Disrupt all exits from this island with whatever means necessary! Do not let her get way!"
He turned back to his little brother, "What about the Overlord?"
Zero leered, "What about him? Dr. Deadstock no longer matters." The Commander then paused in what appeared to be a momentary feeling of longing for his old friend. Present enemies or not, they were at least once friends. "He died a long time ago." Shaking off all emotion, Zero moved out, "Just bring me the girl, living or otherwise."
Fossil assembled us all up. "You heard the Commander! Move out!"
Hurried boots clanked over the rubble of the concrete floors. The clicks of ammunition being loaded resounded throughout the ruin as assault rifles went up into attack positions. As we all headed down the stairs, Fossil stood at the top, beckoning us all through. When I passed him, he glanced at me with the most sorrowful look that I've ever seen him give anyone. I knew exactly what he meant by it too, for he knew exactly what Sentria meant to me.
"Sorry, mate," he attempted to console.
Fossil then jolted down the stairs behind me as we set out to carry out an order that I never could've dreamed I'd be doing. Not even in my worst nightmares did I think it'd come to this. We were hunting down Sentria. I supposed every search for love has its chase, but it wasn't supposed to be so dire. It was a different kind of chase and I had no choice but to be a part of it. Every inch of Fever Island was covered with reinforcements and they were all on full alert. Despite apparent betrayal, all I wished was for Sentria to escape with her life, but that prospect soon grew dim.
Hidden among the scape of the island structures, the Thralls tracked her down to a small, elevated air pad where a few auxiliary bikes were being stored out in the open. Sitting there for the taking, Sentria mounted one of the Low Atmos with the Overlord saddled behind her. Incoming fire scraped here and there all around their position while the wretched thing's engine struggled to start running.
While Dr. Deadstock was by no means in an able-bodied condition at that time, Sentria beckoned him to fire back as she shoved the Dragon's Throat back to its rightful owner. She then began working on the engine while the Overlord provided the necessary cover fire from his pistol. In poor health as he was, he didn’t miss a single target.
Commander Zero then came onto the scene, about to lead a charge to the air pad when everything suddenly fell apart. The ground shook in a violent upheaval. The concrete broke apart at every seam and in between.
The Commander, barely keeping any balance, pulled up his radio and contacted the "Lunar Wrath" for an explanation. "Far Stranger, this is Commander Zero. I need a status report, now!"
"Unknown," the artificial intelligence radioed back. "Island unstable. Submersion imminent."
Fever Island was slipping into disarray as something was seemingly deconstructing it from the bottom up. Unlike an earthquake, the force of destruction came at intervals. It wasn't a natural occurrence, it was mechanical, like explosions being set off beneath the island. All of us Thralls had lost our footing and were being thrown about in all sorts of directions. From our vantage point, we could see the waters around the island swelling higher from the unseen quakes.
To worsen the devastation, the central tower was groaning as it swayed this way and that above us. It abruptly cried out and gave way in the shaking. Like the fall of a giant, its shadow overtook us, followed by the crashing of its neck as it brought down the lower buildings beneath it.
Nobody even called out a warning. It wouldn’t have even done much good. There wasn't a single one of us that could manage to keep standing, let alone flee. Yet, as the crushing force collapsed over us, I felt somebody take me in their arms from behind and roll me out of the tower's line of obliteration. A firm hand then pressed down onto the top of my head and kept me down as the tower smashed beside us, tearing a gaping hole into the face of the island. Concrete, rebar, shacks, and an ample handful of unfortunate Thralls sank down into the newly exposed upset of dark water below, never to be seen or heard again.
Thankfully, the island's mysterious heaving and its destructive intervals came to an end. For the time being, it was over and I could finally turn around and thank my rescuer. It'd be a sore lie to say that there wasn't something inside of me that had hoped it was Sentria, but it was just Fossil. The old warrior was looking out for a fellow Bottom Bunk as he always did, looking out for me. Before I could even thank him, he had sauntered off to look after some others.
Sentria, herself, wasn't far away. After being thrown about like the rest of us, she had finally gotten the bike's engine to start. It was crunch time and she took it as her cue to leave. With the Overlord behind her, she revved up the engine and flew out from the next disaster that was about to break out. Fever Island was flooding, and fast too. The whole complex was going under.
I heard the deep, dark voice of the Far Stranger echo out from Zero's radio, "Immediate evacuation, recommended."
"Negative," replied Zero. "Keep on standby." The Commander then hailed every legion on ground, "All right, Bottom Bunks, move out. We've still got a traitor to catch."
Clearly, safety was no longer a priority to the Commander. He was vengefully overwhelmed with the fact that Sentria had just slipped through his fingers for the second time that day. Meanwhile, the island was worsening by the second, sinking further down.
Across the flooding concrete complex, we all headed out in a deadly pursuit. Those who still had fuel used their jet packs. Everyone else just had to make a run for it, if only keeping up to survive. On foot, I set out on an obstacle course of falling debris and plummeting rooftops. The death toll of my fellow Thralls was going up at every hurdle.
All the reinforcements as well as the remaining mission primaries were tight on the tail of Sentria and the Overlord. Their lone bike's smoky trail was leading the way. Some could nearly taste the fuel of the exhausts.
As I caught up with the pursuit through the ever drowning maze, the Thralls had trapped the fleeing pair into a dead end on open ground. It was the original landing zone. With the collapsing complex in front and the roaring swells behind, the two had nowhere left to run but the endless sea. Our forces slithered down through the crumbling rubble to their indefensible position.
Sentria's Low Atmo was at an idle. Both she and the Overlord took cover behind the rattling engine, firing back as they took fire too. With every passing second, the Thralls were closing in on them. Time was soon up and Sentria reacted with an unexpected surprise.
I heard the Overlord yell in vain, "Sentria, no!"
She leapt over the shelter of the bike and took a confident stance out in the open range of fire. It looked like suicide, a death wish of some sort, but then she held up a fist in the air and I knew exactly what was about to happen. The back of her fist was played toward us with fingers clenched toward herself. With her free hand, she reached over and clicked away at an ample band that was wrapped around just below on her wrist.
I immediately recognized the wide wristband as the simple looking device I had seen her working on in her quarters the night before. Upon her tapping away at the bulky bracelet, a rectangular barrier sprung out from the band in all directions. It covered her forward position in dimensions well beyond her height and width. In an emanation of glorious light, the plain armlet was putting out what appeared to be some kind of energy shield. Clear and fluid looking, we could all see her strength struggling to hold the thing up through the transparency of the barrier's framed grid.
The Commander squinted in concern. "What in hell is that?"
"I don't think that's from hell, Zero," said Fossil, mesmerized by the light's beauty from afar.
"It's an Angel Gate," I said informatively with a big smile.
"A what?" His lips didn't need to frown. His brow was already doing it for him.
I couldn't help it. I was mesmerized too. Overall, I was just happy that she managed to get her little invention to work, but would it survive the test? With a few hyper rounds here and there from various Thralls, not a single shot made it past the barrier. Sentria's vibrant and electrifying Angel Gate seemed to be an impenetrable buffer as it absorbed every round that was being flung at her. The defense shield was working perfectly, just as Sentria had told me it would.
Zero held up a fist at a right angle. It was the signal to hold and cease fire. Thralls stopped moving about while they lowered their aims. I knew it had nothing to do with giving up. Zero's grin, which was becoming more potent to me than I cared to admit, was always a sure indication that he was up to something.
"So maybe that thing isn't from hell after all," carried on the Commander to his older brother, matter-of-factly. "It just so happens that we have something up our sleeve that actually is from hell. Break out the Demon Eggs, all of them. Let's just see how this supposed Angel Gate holds up against a present from the Deep Down Under." Zero then centered his voice into his radio. "I want every last Demon Egg that we've got live and ready. On my mark, we launch them all at once."
Fossil gaped with a heavy heart, "Don't you think that's kind of overkill? The poor girl's already got nowhere to run. No need to be excessive."
Zero held up his massive Brawler gun, "Do I look like one for subtlety, brother?"
"Sir," I politely interrupted. "With all due respect, this proposed engagement could jeopardize the Plague of Phantoms. It's only plans on paper, highly flammable paper."
"I'd rather it be in flames than in their hands," assured Zero as he overturned his immense Brawler and adjusted an underside launching tube. "All the same, I know for a fact that the designs are out of danger. While everyone else was shooting away, all for not, I saw Captain Sentria pass the plans to Dr. Deadstock from behind. He's wandered well behind her and is now no longer in the range of immediate danger. Sentria, on the other hand, is now standing in the way of what we want. She's given up her bargaining chip and is about to learn the price. Our priority is to kill the Captain, ensure she's removed from our path so that we can make a run for the Doctor to get our blueprints back. Copy?"
Fossil and I both replied, simultaneously grim, "Copy."
Within the minute, Demon Eggs were taken out, passed around, and clicked on. The explosives were circular, sphere-shaped grenades. They became active as soon as one shifted the midpoint circumference. It reminded me of twisting the two halves of an Easter egg, those colorful pieces of hollow plastic that could bring one such fortune out in the Wasteland. They were an old world treasure for any scavenger, perfect for carrying around loose nuts, bolts, or ammo. The Demon Eggs had no such value. The Thralls being the exception, nobody cared to haul the imprecise grenades around, out of fear for an early detonation. Unpredictable as the warriors that carried them, the Demon Eggs were just as likely to go off in your pouch or hand as they were to eliminate their given target.
The ringing hum of dozens of Demon Eggs being activated was followed by the legions assuming to position themselves for a massive volley toward the landing zone. Commander Zero, himself, had loaded the little round bombs into the tube of his mortar cannon that was attached to the underside of his Brawler gun. Aiming the gargantuan weapon toward the sky, Zero was measuring the aerial distance with special side sights that he had popped out from the gun's contours. Out of the corner of one of his eyes, he noticed I had no Demon Egg in my hand.
"Here." Zero tossed one over to me. My hands automatically caught it, though I didn’t want to accept the favor. For a few seconds, I just stared at the grenade in my palms, not knowing what to do with it.
"Still in love, I see," understood the Commander. "You know she left you behind, right?"
I looked down to Sentria, holding her ground. I couldn't really tell, but I was pretty sure that we exchanged glances in that instant. It was brief, but bright. Her eyes were saddened, but somehow they still managed to let me know that it was all going to be alright. Zero's remarks weren't going to sway me and he knew it too, but the Commander wasn't about to lose any more time.
"Give me that," he whispered.
Almost compassionately, the Commander quickly took the grenade back without any sign of scoff or scorn. Consideration was characteristic for the man I had always looked up to, but it was not in tone with the potentially evil man that had been coming to light that day. Maybe his gesture played a part in what led to me staying by his side for a little bit longer. At the time, I had nowhere else to go aside from following wherever he led me.
Readjusting the sights of the mortar barrel on his Brawler gun, the Commander raised up an arm high for all to see and then swung it down hard and fast. It was the signal. The Demon Eggs went flying like a torrent of black hail. Zero's Brawler spat out three shots, sending a handful of the rounded shells in an arch toward the landing zone.
The Demon Eggs slapped against the rectangular surface of the Angel Gate, plopping to the ground and rolling everywhere in front of the barrier. The silent timers ticked their last inside each one and the Eggs blew in a glaring commotion of blaze and black smoke. Over the course of a good three seconds or so, every Demon Egg that had been tossed down there had detonated.
The dark fog and fumes then began to clear from the landing zone. The clean air from the sea revealed the Angel Gate still in place. The power of Zero's "hell" had held no merit against the protection of Sentria's "angel." She was fine and the barrier hadn't been compromised at all. As a matter of fact, it was as if the Gate had been stimulated by the explosive racket that it had just endured. The electric currents within its grid had expanded, enlarging the square footage of the barrier considerably. The Angel Gate had consumed the fire, becoming fueled by it.
"That's impossible," said Zero und
er his breath.
The Gate was bigger, glowing brighter, and its energy patterns indicated that it was about to violently burst forth into every forward direction. For a man supposedly without fear, the Commander was beginning to show something akin to the idea of it. He leaned his Brawler gun over a ledge and fired away. The rest of the Thralls did the same.
As a result, Sentria was getting tired with every shot fired toward her. Her arms could barely hold up the weight of the ever expanding shield. Just as she was about to drop her burden, a couple of strong hands came up from behind her and grabbed ahold of her wrists, lifting them higher and stabilizing them with ample support. It was the Overlord. Both were no longer in their strongest state, but as they held together with joined arms, they may as well have been invincible.
Having absorbed all the energy the Angel Gate could take, the electric currents flowed back to the origin point of Sentria's wristband. Collecting and concentrating there, the light it was giving off could not be seen safely with human eyes. Radiantly, the Gate then self-destructed with a powerful force. A potent blast emitted from its midst and took out anyone and everything that stood in its outward blast radius while keeping the lone pair out of harm's way.
Concrete and earth broke into pieces. Armor and bone slivered and shattered. I was far enough away to avoid the effects, taking cover behind a rooftop ledge. While those that were closest were now fatalities, many Thralls had survived due to the decent cover of the area. Zero, for one, had evaded the blast behind a support pillar. I watched him wince in anger as the concrete block against his back disintegrated and nearly took him out along with it.
After the brilliant devastation of the Angel Gate, the landing zone fell quiet with several Thralls still left. Fever Island, in its hastening decay, had now brought the waters up to our waists. At various points, the complex was sinking slowly but surely. The landing zone in particular was losing surface area in the rising flood.
