Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy, Volume One)

by Trey Copeland

  "Choosing to stay under the confines of the lip versus any of us lying in the open, we were forced to spread out in a line along the pond's edge. Due to the edge's curve, you could only see a dozen or so of the others to the left or right of you. Your mother and I, having recently done our tour of duty at the front and rear, were stationed somewhere toward the middle. Before conceding to exhaustion, I watched Maseriah form a perimeter of sela gourds. It is in the Provider's hands now was my last thought before succumbing to a restless sleep."

  "Your mother's scream ripped me from my dreamless slumber. Immediately turning to her, I was aghast to see blood splattered across her face and torso. Looking above and over my shoulder, the terror in her eyes froze my will to turn around. Driblets of warm liquid sprayed my tunic as the repulsive crunch of bone and flesh emanated from directly above me. Compelled by something beyond mind and body, I turned and followed her gaze in time to witness the legs of Guinther disappear down the creatures gaping orifice. The zapture stood erect and turned its head to the heavens as intermittent spasms began to convulse down the long neck."

  "The engorged body of our companion stretched the neck's skin into a transparent membrane as the meal was forced down the deformed throat. Instincts screamed to run while we had the chance but I stood in place, hypnotized by the waking nightmare. The sudden jerk of Guinther's arm in a last, futile attempt to survive—the impenetrable membrane stretched so thin one could make out his braided birth bracelet—finally broke the spell and allowed the mind to tell the body to flee."

  "Fighting the urge to evacuate bowels and vomit at the same time, I managed to stand up, pulling your mother along with me, and began to stumble away from the pond's edge toward the surrounding open fields. We had not moved much past the lip when the screams of others began to fill the night. Screams of terror, screams for Maseriah, screams of disbelief, the scene unfolding was beyond our imaginations."

  "A dense cloud cover had moved in while we slept and if not for the sela gourds, the grisly scene would have remained hidden to the night. Adjusting to minimal light, my head swiveled in all directions in search of our Guardian. Maseriah was seen nowhere among the dozens of dark zapture figures surrounding our pathetic camp. The world we knew had become an abomination of what we thought to be true. Panic rose anew, as we stood frozen at the spectacle before us; a hideous forest composed of freakish necks bulging with the struggling outline of our friends and loved ones."

  "The din of agonizing shrieks and tableau of erect beasts striking ghastly poses of ingestion was abruptly overpowered by a lurid sound. None who survived that dreadful night will ever forget that sound; a sensation akin to, but far from accurate depiction of, standing at or near the point of impact of two hardwood branches crashing at supersonic velocity. As I turned in search of the source, my eyes fell back upon the zapture we had just fled."

  "The creature remained erect facing the sky. Guinther's body had moved farther down the beast's neck to lodge at the base. At first, I found a strange consolation in the sight, believing for a fleeting moment that the zapture was choking, having literally bitten off more that it could swallow. My theory appeared validated as I watched its already gaping maw stretch wider. I stood mesmerized, cringing at the thought of seeing Guinther's regurgitated remains splayed before me and in fear of the sheer force being applied toward disfiguring its own head."

  "The jaw will surely snap from its skull was all I could think. Instead, the jaws extended farther, reaching all the way back to the pointed crest, effectively turning its head inside out. Without warning and at blurring speed, the jaws snapped shut."

  "The intensity of this second wave was much stronger, knocking your mother on her back, myself onto knees. The concussion thwarted all efforts to not vomit or release the contents of my bowels on the spot. Bones, muscle and organs went limp as I kneeled in miasma created by my insides and cupped hands over bleeding ears. It took all the fight I had to remain conscious. When I looked back to the creature, it still held its gruesome pose but a new and unimaginable revulsion hit me as I discovered the primary purpose behind the powerful concussion. Altered by vibrations produced by the ferocious clap of jaws, the once solid outline of Guinther had transformed into a gooey ball of slurry. With a spastic gulp, the bulging neck deflated as the liquid remains disappeared down to its gullet."

  "Having devoured its first victim, its appetite far from slaked, the zapture resumed the minatory posture of a lethal hunter. Its wings, previously tucked tight to the body in a protective shell, now spread wide and low, beating the air in short, compact bursts. The stout legs recoiled and prepared to pounce as its talons tapped the ground, craving fresh meat in which to tear. The sword like arms flared out in anticipation prepared to gouge any moving target, while the dexterous middle one darted from side to side. The long neck cocked over its back, poised to strike with lightning speed. An acrid jet of steam, shot from pin hole nostrils below beady eyes, plastered my face as the creature's gaze fell upon your mother and I."

  "Dazed as I was, I summoned the strength to stand. Your mother lay motionless and I thought I detected a slight rise in her chest but was uncertain. In the aftermath, none of the survivors were shocked to learn most of our casualties were the result of the concussive sound waves. I stared at my adversary and relived the choices I made leading up to that very moment. My soul was at peace with the knowledge I lived my life the Certain Way and no matter what happened, l lived this life to the fullest. I was that much closer toward eternal life with the Provider and if this was the last leg in this journey, so be it."

  His father stopped climbing steps at that point, letting Steffor travel a few more before tuning his son to face him eye to eye. Steffor had never doubted his father, trusting all he told him. But it was not until that moment, the dark memories of that fateful night mirrored in father's depthless eyes, he truly believed him.

  "The muffled moans of others penetrated my deaf ears and broke my brief embrace with nirvana. Memories of Guinther's gruesome end came rushing back and I became a frightened soul living a human experience once again. Determined to face my end with courage, I decided to charge. My legs buckled, forcing me to stop my fall with outstretched arms. Pushing myself back up with what strength remained, a sudden pulse of energy from behind shoved me back down to fall flat on my face."

  "To my shameful joy, a new sound of agony and terror filled the night. I looked up in time to witness the zapture slam into the pond's edge, trailed by a black figure flying over me. Bones snapped as its left wing bent back and crumpled to its side from the impact. Maseriah was a black blur as his assiduous assault on the creature came from every angle. Getting back to my feet, I was immediately forced to duck as one of the creatures bladed appendages flew past, spewing a path of blood behind it for another twenty yards before sticking into bark with a hallow plunk."

  "Dodging frantic darts of the lethal middle talon toward his head and body, the Guardian snatched the wrist with his right hand while driving the palm of his left into what passed for an elbow, rending the forearm completely off. Choking down a screech, the neck's blurring counterstrike hit ground as the Guardian sidestepped the blow, burying the head deep into moss. Maseriah slammed his boot into the grotesque head before it could recoil, pivoted, and drove fists into and jerked out of the exposed torso in one fluid motion. Violet liquid gushed freely from the mortal punctures as he stepped away. Crammed against the pond edge, legs splayed in unnatural positions, the body twitched a few last times before slumping over in final defeat."

  "Confident the beast was dead, heaving from his recent exertion, Maseriah surveyed the battlefield. Never had I revered or feared a soul more at that moment, nor since. The verse from the Deeds, 'Respect and honor the soul chosen to harness the power of a Guardian', held a new and literal meaning."

  "Maseriah pulsed with the Source, setting the camp ablaze in an eerie blue light. Conformed like a thick, pliable second skin, his seamless garments covered his entire body in b
urnished armor. Rounded helm, narrow slits revealing blazing eyes, melded into a gorget form fitted around his neck and face. Smooth pauldrons conformed to massive shoulders and amplified his already decuman width. Gauntlets and vambraces, the most intimidating feature, protected both arms and hands, tripling the size of his fists, each knuckle custom fit with gnarled spikes. A tight brigandine encapsulated torso and molded cuisses and greaves shielded the lower body while also providing two more blunt weapons to his arsenal."

  "Relief washed over me as I followed his gaze around the camp. Slaughtered zapture bodies, and respective body parts, mingled about the camp along with our own dead and wounded. Faced against a foreign foe, equipped with no known defense, the remaining zaptures had fled. Maseriah, concluding the same, fell to his knees and wept. Gone was the warrior with deep seeded hate and anger flashing in his eyes, replaced by the sanguine man we all chose to follow. Regaining his composure, he stood and bellowed the Guardians' creed for all to hear: 'Thank you Father! I love you! Please forgive me!'"

  Both had been watching Maseriah descend the staircase as his father retold the Guardian's heroic deeds in those final moments. Undetectable even by his heightened hearing, Maseriah explained later how a silent aerial attack caught him off guard. Nose-diving from a mile above, three zaptures pulled up from the pond's west side and skimmed over its glassy surface at top speed. The projectiles flew over our protective lip without the slightest whisper and slammed into Maseriah's backside as the coordinated efforts of their brethren shrieking in the distance distracted his attention. Maseriah had slain thirteen and wounded a dozen before it was it over. Forty-six Citizens perished that night, another thirteen of the wounded the following day.

  Turning him back around, his father's face was warm and loving. "Only those willing to risk going too far can discover how far they will go." Steffor gave his father a solemn nod of understanding and continued to contemplate his words as he went up the staircase. He heard or recited that passage almost daily but only now seemed to recognize it as the answer to the question his mind could not put to words.

  Steffor did not fear the zapture. No, the fear that would cause him to bite his lip for endless hours or tie his stomach in knots, was the thought of not being able to protect his loved ones in their time of greatest need. Fear of having the soul of a Guardian trapped in the body of harvest Shifter. A wave of gratitude washed over him as he stopped wrestling with his mind's greatest fear and chose to view life in a new light. Unabated, glorious tears began to flow down his face.

  A loud snap rippled through the serene night with an explosive intensity. Heads jerked up in unison toward the foreign noise to witness the night sky disappear, replaced by the freight car barreling directly toward them. Stunned outcries filled the night as the giant cylinder crashed nose first into the stairway ahead of them. Steffor felt the Provider moan as the branch bowed from the impact and send people flying backwards in an entangled mass.

  Steffor watched the approaching avalanche of people and reacted with newly bestowed instincts. In one casual motion he turned to his left, leaped over the rail, twisted his body to grab the rounded edge with both hands, used his momentum to swing back over and land on the spot he started. With a quick survey over his shoulder, he knew with a sense beyond his own that, outside of few minor injuries, all were safe, including his father.

  With a howling screech of wood grinding on wood, the car, its width just wider than the rail, settled into the groove, picked up speed and raced toward them. His vision locked on Maseriah in the distance mistling toward them at supersonic speed. Steffor knew in that instant the Teuton would be too late and, to his horror, that he was all that stood between the ones he cared most for in life and certain obliteration.

  The residue of gratitude, showered upon him only moments before, was the catalyst that turned horror into an excited anticipation. The Source moved through him like never before as he raised his arms high and wide. The Provider's energy pulsed in his palms, rapidly building in mass and power as it stretched his arms farther behind his neck. Fearful he would lose control, Steffor made a weak attempt to throw his arms forward. His panic rose as his arms continued to stretch backwards as if pulled by invisible cables shifted by the strongest vine Shifters. The car was but yards away from where he stood and yet the summoned energy continued to grow.

  "Use the power of your mind Steffor!" His father shouted from behind. Like a mighty hammer blow, the assured voice dissolved the clutter of frantic thoughts, forever removing the veil that once obscured the Guardian hidden deep within.

  Body diverged from mind and hands sliced down with alarming force, clapping a blue ball of Source abruptly formed before his chest. Channeled into a tight beam, the Source shot from the pulsating ball and slammed into the rushing car. A deep pitched, explosive wave ricocheted off cylinder and launched it in the opposite direction. The projectile blurred past Ginllats, remnants of the Source trailing behind like burnt fuel, before piercing Constunkeen's underside.

  The car penetrated the bough's thick bark and buried deep into sapwood. The rounded end the only visible trace where it remains exposed to this day for all who travel the hallowed stairs to see, a monument to the Provider's most heralded Guardian, commemorating the first of many heroic deeds yet to pass.

  Chapter 12

  Stalling emerged from the meditation chamber exhausted. He looked outside and noticed with alarm the sun slipping behind the tree line. Sunset already? I guess that makes sense, he rationalized, doing the math in his head. It just doesn't leave us much time to get our arms around what must be done next.

  He turned to his left and located Antone waiting for him in the corner lounge. He walked over, his legs buckling several times, and flopped down into the couch adjacent to him. Antone leaned forward, poured a tall glass of chilled water and handed it Stalling. He took the glass without comment and pounded it with one trip to the lips then leaned back and rubbed his temples with the palm of his hands.

  "Damn, that hurt," he said.

  "Well, you knew going into it the technology was far from honed," Antone replied, tongue-in-cheek. "We have people to test these things you know."

  "Desperate times...." Stalling said dryly, in no mood for humor.

  In his typical Ecifrican manner, Antone cut to the chase, asking, "So, you found the traitor?"

  Stalling brought his hands down and scowled. Antone held his ground, unapologetic.

  "Janison is not, nor will he ever be a traitor. His part in all this is as vital as ever."

  His strength returning, Stalling got up and walked over to the kitchenette located behind the couch. He reached into the refrigerator, grabbed a protein drink and started to shake it. He stood silently for several minutes, absently shaking, watching the sun disappear behind the mighty firs.

  "The impact of Janison's actions is far from clear or over," he added, saying more to himself than Antone.

  With that, he twisted the cap, consumed the drink in three gulps, chucked the plastic bottle in the small bin and sat back down on the couch. Recharged, Stalling faced Antone with renewed purpose.

  "Janison will arrive by magnarail in two hours."

  "Two hours," Antone said, pondering the implications behind the travel time. "He didn't even bother to leave the province? What the hell, did he even want to hide? Don't tell me, let me guess, he was holed up in some cabin, somewhere on the outskirts of Hashler National Forest maybe. How predictable."

  "Where he chose to spend his solitude doesn't matter," Stalling replied, disturbed by Antone's accurate intuition and blatant contempt toward Janison. "What matters is that he has chosen to come back and help us solve the crisis at hand."

  "What matters, meaning no disrespect, is that Janison chose to download every file related to any proprietary technology or system this company has produced over the past twenty years and hand delivered them to the people who not only have the desire to destroy us, but possess the power to do so. And you want me to welcome h
im back with open arms?"

  "Yes, that is exactly what I am telling you," Stalling stated. I should have consulted with Antone beforehand. His insight has never failed me, but there just wasn't time this go around.

  Antone's response to the situation was consistent with his character, traits Stalling had come to rely on over the years. Yes, Antone's free license to be candid could have a biting edge at times. Yes, his headstrong, Ecifrican view of justice could hamper one's ability to "forgive and forget". Yes, when Stalling's back was against the wall, there is no one else he wanted more to be by his side.

  "Understood," Antone responded, turning his dejected face to a spot on top of his polished boot resting across his knee. He and Janison will have the opportunity to settle their issues in due time but first things first, Stalling concluded as he truly studied his friend for the first time since meeting with Janison. Something else bothers him. What has happened in my absence?

  "Any other updates?"

  "Yes, as matter of fact, there is," Antone said solemnly, placing a link visor in the middle of the table. He hit a button on the side, prompting the holographic projector, and leaned back into the couch with a determined grimace. Stalling viewed the life-sized, three dimensional video projected above the table of Bishop Clortison delivering his insinuating sermon with mild anger. Are they aware of our true motives? Just how much did Janison tell them?

  "I did not foresee their use of scripture like that to compound the situation. Very clever," Stalling admitted.

  "It gets worse," Antone said, timing his nod at the projection as it segued to the recording of him and Thortizan's conversation.

  Stalling watched the exchange between Antone and Thortizan in silence. He waited several more minutes once finished before saying: "It appears we have lost our grip on the tiger's tail."