interrupted him.
‘Woman’s love you desire, I know. But the bigger family must be saved, first. ’
‘How do I do that?’
He heard no reply. Raman closed his eyes, but unlike before, the world inside him
wasn't dark. It was brighter than the world outside, gleaming and sparkling as far
as he could see. Al the lights he could not see, al the smel s he could not smel , al
the love he could not give, it was al inside him, buried under the muddle of fear.
But sweeped off by the universe.
‘Your focus determines your reality, Ramon.’
‘its Raman, not Ramon.’
‘Its Ramon now. And you must look to your people. They need you .’
*
The view zoomed in, and in front of him was a devastated city that was once his
home. Through the wal s and roofs, he could see people tangled in dark rooms,
children screaming and crying as their feet were crushed in the crowd. And the
situation was similar al over the city, and its people shivering fear and panic, al
of them.
It was distress spread everywhere, and the only sound was of flooding water and
of buildings demolishing by the intense momentum of water when it hit the wal s
of building one after the other. Death was a common phenomenon, and people
were dying like insects.
The underground metro stations were submerged, and the ones above ground
were over flooded with people. Chaos al around.
Those who were stuck on the stations and on the railway tracks, while the pil ars
that held the platform were cracking now. Water was eroding everything that
hindered its way, come a pil ar or an establishment. One of the station on blue
metro line could not withstand the load on its lechered pil ars and the entire
platform came down on road. And the impact was so terrifying that a cloud of
dust faded everything for a long time. Those who saw the platform turning to
sand and rocks, and spil s of blood that splashed in al the directions made them
curse fate for its cruelty. Death everywhere.
Raman was too sensitive to bear everything with ease. It's not that you see such a calamity.
‘I have to save them.’
He looked down again, this time to see the dead ones. And they were everywhere;
drowned under water and swayed by the pressure, some were churned under
col apsed buildings, some died by col iding with the heavy remains of shattered
objects, while some were crushed under the crowd in the top floored rooms of
many buildings. Some were burnt alive in the fire due to the leakage of petrol
from fuel stations. Some vehicles caught fire and took lives with them upon
explosion, sometimes the life of their owners. People were dying abruptly, as if it
were a videogame, a kind of simulation where the player and the console goes
back in the box after game. There was no going back. It was real as it could be.
Do not pity the dead. Pity the living. The words of king echoed inside him, suggesting him the time had come.
A scream from the Earth got Raman’s attention and he rocketed down a bit
further. It was the cracking voice of a girl, and by the pointiness in her tone,
Raman understood she won’t be older than his peanut. And she was about to die.
The janpath marg had become a ground of terror and yel s. The road was blocked
by water running above the waist. People were stuck inside their cars, some had
climbed over the gril s and balconies, while some were stil on the pavements and
a few were even stuck mid-road, their feet locked in some object underwater. The
wind was heavy and cold. Everyone’s lips were reminding their deities of their
existence, expecting some mercy not on them, but their children.
The Delhi was on an emergency, with only places stil functioning were the Bangla
Sahib gurudwara and Akshardham temple, where a few good men were rescuing
people from damages and sheltering and feeding them.
A high tension wire with running current was swinging rapidly along with the
pole holding it, and it could break apart and fal anytime.
The 44,000 voltage line broke loose and came down swinging like a cruise’s
anchor heading for the bed of ocean. As it touched the water, the current running
in it found a way and it electrocuted everyone in contact with the water. The fist
sized thick copper wire was swinging in air like a pendulum, and touched water
twice in every cycle. And both the times, the screams were ear splitting. The girl he
heard screaming was inside a black honda city stuck in water mid- road. It was
balanced on to something underwater which prevented it from drowning.
The two waves of shock had pushed everyone to empty the street and get away
from water, and only the most unfortunate ones had no choice. The little girl
holding a brown goofy dol with her family was one of those. The wire was about
to hit the water a third time, and the last time they’d see the wire, or anything at
al .
Raman dashed down, and landed at the top of a tal building. So i am here now.
congo. But what the hel was step two?
He stretched out his hand, like he could hold the wire without holding it. As he
stretched his palm, the wire deflected a bit. Did i do it?
‘Yes. you did.’
With al his power, he exerted a force on the wire to pul upwards, opposite to its
natural direction which was influenced by gravity. The wire braked an inch above
the water, and jammed. Raman pul ed it up and jerked it upwards. The wire went
up, and he strangled it around itself like a snake. Now, the family had to be saved.
Raman was in a dilemma. He had never desired power of such a kind, and al the
superhero movies he got his hands on seemed stupid to him. The ability to fly, the
ability to control matter and mind, and the power to create or destroy were always
a fling to him, a creation of less subtle mind. And when he was watching himself
gaining those powers for himself, he was perceiving everything to be a dream.
How insane.
He jumped into the air, knowing he won’t fal down. He did fel , but control ed
himself and flew toward the black car stuck. He positioned himself a feet above
the head of honda city and tore apart its head without touching it even once. Four
humans jumped out of the car, stil shaking and their faces red in terror. They
clung themselves around him and he took them to a roof.
‘We’l always be obliged to you,’ said the man, the head of family. He was a short,
bald man with thick mustaches.
‘That isn’t required. I was doing my duty.’
‘But who are you?’
Raman laughed inside, pondering over the questions that even the creators
worried about. He did not know yet, and the best thing to do in such a situation is
to say something that makes the asker forget the question.
‘I am Mr Marvel ous.’
They nodded their head in amazement. Mr marvel ous. Not bad.
‘Mr marvels,’ said the little girl stil holding the dol in her hands, ‘I’l draw your
picture in my drawing book.’
Da, I want to make your drawing when i grow big. Ipsa’s cheerful voice reverberated in his head. And it bought tears in his eyes along with the warm sensation, the two
elements of nostalgia.
He smiled as
he saw his daughter smiling in the little girl in front of him.
-----*-----
28
Qadri looked outside his citadel from the edge of his chamber window, struggling
to keep peace with his breaths. The people outside were strange. They were not
more than hundred, or 70, but they were unusual y tal and thin as a bamboo.
Dressed in black robes, the men seemed to lack any significant flesh on their
bodies, as it was apparent from their faces. And a flame was burning in the centre
of their chest, if there was any. It was visible over the black robe as faded yel ow
light.
What are they?. . And where is Z?
He rushed outside his room, and headed to the floor occupied by his goons. They
were unaware of the events happening outside, the landing of helicopters, circling
of strange men around their headquarter and al that. But they missed the
gunshot fired recently.
‘What you looking at, mother buggers?’ he yel ed as he climbed the last stair to the
top floor.
‘Those people boss….they’re very different,’ one of the goon replied without any
sense of amazement. Al he, or the rest of them cared about one and only one
thing: Should they start firing at them, or should they bomb al of them?
‘Look there….he’s their boss.’
And al of them were looking at an incredibly handsome man with fair skin and
long black straight hair styled like an emo. He was clean shaven, and smal er than
the men around him. The only disturbing part of him was the crow seated on his
right shoulder. Except the raven and the black sceptre he was holding, everything
else was ordinary. He wasn't bulgy either, but skinny and appeared more human
than the rest of his like. He can't kil anyone. He’s too chicken.
The tal skeleton like creatures had circled around the godown and heading closer
to the boundary of their castle, the one place they always thought was
unbreachable. And who could dare pushing oneself inside the pool of death,
inside the home of demons.
‘Start the preparations,’ Qadri said in a low tone but in a tone of authority. And it
bought a broad smile on everyone’s faces. They final y had a chance to pul the
trigger.
‘Today is our day,’ qadri said in a loud tone, standing over a chair. ‘Those men,
they don't understand what fair business is. They’re here to kil us like we are a
bunch of rats and squirrels.’ Everyone’s attention was on the words he was
uttering. And for the first time, those men realized they were going to do
something real today, something remarkable. Something that requires bul ets and
bombs.
‘But now, we’l send them a message. That we are not ants, and you are not a boot.
That they cannot take whatever they want. And we’l teach them a lesson.’
And in no time, crates of bul ets were pul ed out from the stock, machine guns
were distributed like free advice, and since bombs were handy, they were kept in
the middle of the floor. The topmost portion of the tower was built to keep an eye
on the world. With many windows and ventilators, everyone found a spot without
any trouble.
Outside, the situation was complex as wel . The intruders had come from beyond.
And they were hungry.
My noble, we must eat. We must have more.
Can't you see us starving, your brothers imploring for some dust?
Do you not have a heart, my noble?
The creatures were sharing thoughts with their master, the rose like man with
blue eyes and a beaked nose. He was swinging the stick in his hand, standing a
feet above water.
My heart beats for us, for our kind. And have patience, my chums. Those filthy humans wil rain food on us. .anytime.
Why do we wait here, then?
Because i fear death, chums.
What makes you think we’d die?
Not you, but they would. Al of them.
Silence fel on both the sides, as the two parties waited for each other to
commence the war. The alive were afraid, and the dead ones were hungry. They
were the proprietors of death, worshippers of the dark force. They were chaos
skeleton, sent on Earth by Lord Purple Butterfly.
‘Open fire’ qadri said in a low tone, but with a sense of authority. His men were
ready with their toys, positioned on al four sides of the room.
‘On my count, slaughter them al ,’ he said and began counting upwards, starting
from 3. He wasn't interested in the battle that was about to begin. He knew he’d
lose. The sensation he felt inside was a new experience, and it wasn't pleasant.
And when something doesn't feels right, it usual y isn't.
The goons pul ed the trigger and never stopped doing it, and the sound of many
guns yel ing fire became the music of the other. And finding a perfect moment,
Qadri slipped out of the war zoned room, to pursue the idea he had just got: to
make a wish.
The bul ets hit them before the smel of gunpowder diffused in the air, and spread
like wildfire in the less visited part of the capital. As soon as those tiny rockets
penetrated the skeletons, a wave of excitement shook them from top to bottom. It
was pleasant, ful of sensation and intimacy. The bul et col ided with the black
robe, and fel down on ground like a bal of paper. And they were looking at it with
intense desire. The bul ets kept incoming, and within a short time, a heap of
bul ets was formed in front of al those boney mutts. However, no bul et could
touch the chief, who was standing with his eyes closed and hands spread wide.
There was an invisible shield around him, a dome of super elastic strength.
After the heap as high as their knees, they rose the heap at once and fiddled it
with sonic speed. And when the churning stopped, a vessel of metal was pouring
grey dust in their barrel sized mouths. It was gunpowder, the substance they had
heard rumors of. The purest form of black dust is a gray powder found in the realm of mortals. It never misses, it never dif uses, and its fire is the fire of doom. The RDX.
The bones were teleported to a state of high, jumping and hopping and frisking in
the pleasure of dust, as they had always cal ed it. The dust ignited a fire inside
them, and the black robe caught flames from the chest, which was now flaking
like someone had poured petrol into it. The robe burnt to ashes, and its ashes fel
on the ground. But nobody was intrested in those remains. The skeletons had
turned naked, revealing their 10 feet tal structure made up of bones. Within the
skeleton was a network of threads that could be nerves, or a system of yel ow
nerves glowing like the sun of june. The nerves were spread al over them, except
in their heads. The flame at the centre of chest was the junction of al the nerve
threads. And everything seemed to be held everything together by an invisible
cover, as if they had a transparent skin. And invisible flesh as wel . But those were
just assumptions, as seen by those who were seeing them.
And the nerve strings were glowing bright yel ow, tripped by the purest form of
death dust they had ever tasted. And though their head was a hol ow skul , it was
now fil ed with the death dust, tightly packed to al ow maximum storage for later.
And it was the only purpose of their
life, except to serve the cruelest, meanest,
darkest master in existence.
The goons were bewildered to watch those ghosts gleaming like torchlights, and
everyone was too numb to scream. They wanted to, but the words didn’t come out.
The only thing that popped in their heads was to scream, and then run, and save
their already mutton chopped life.
And the ghosts were staring at them with drop dead attention. The goons could
see them seeing them, and they saw death in those black, mystic eyes with a
flaking yel ow dot.
‘MORE DUST’,’ the skeletons screamed together, and the screeching voice of al
those dead creatures roared in the minds of goons like a thousand people were
scratching their nails on stone, al at once. They fel down, holding their heads
that appeared to explode anytime. The scream made most of them bleed from
ears.
One thing was certain: Brutal death. In the moment of ultimate despair, they saw
the faces of al those who who died by their hands. The people they stabbed and
shot, the children they orphaned and the women they widowed. They were
smiling, looking at them with a gaze of affection, as though they had a message
for them.
*
Qadri was unaware of everything happen outside his soundproof chamber. But
intuitively, he knew it wouldn’t be a lovely experience. In al likelihood, he could
not defeat those aliens out there. They were not humans, and this was something
he could bet on. He was weak, and to be able to chal enge them, he must become
powerful. And he knew the way to gain power, immense power that could crush
those swines with a singular stroke. It reminded him of the time of his first
meeting with filthy Raman.
It was the night of science. It was the night of innovators, scientists, computer
programmers, artchitects, biologists, al of them sharing a common belief: The
upliftment of World. What a crazy stupid idea.
And Raman was the star of night. The 26 year old inventor had developed some
technique where anything could be built using moecules. It could revolutionzie
the construction industry in an unimaginable way, above al the others in
business of production. But what intrigued him more was the revelation that the
biggest capitalists rely on science as their business model. Behind their business
When I Tell You A Story: Book 1 (Black River Trilogy) Page 7
