Ascension

by Christopher De Sousa

  Not long ago I’d preached to Anzu about trust, she remembered, and now here I am suspecting he’d told Monica about my intentions to flee this organisation.

  She gazed over at the winged guardian; Anzu lay there in the corner of the utility, away from the others preoccupied with own thoughts. She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate and shed the distracting questions that lingered about his emotional state, seeking to get a sense of what bothered her her guardian. She saw him raise his rested beak from the floor, and stare back at her through his sharp golden eyes.

  I best not pry any further, she decided, aware of the double standard and the suspected disapproval of her guardian as he’d averted his eyes from maintaining eye contact.

  As soon as the vehicle had come to a halt, she quickly leapt out the back. She felt a cold and unnerving breeze coursing through the air, exacerbating her fears.

  What am I going to do if Justin and Naomi are hurt? She worried.

  As she approached the front steps, numerous operatives pressed past amidst stretchering the unconscious bodies of students from the lounge. She watched as they hurried to the nearest parked utility and placed them in the back. With each passing face that lay there on the stretcher, she looked on in the hope the next would not belong to either of her friends. Once Monica and Blake had both passed her by, she decided to step inside.

  In the lounge of sixty six Phocis Avenue there was a mess: there were empty bottles littering the place. There were crushed potato chips smeared into the velvet carpet, and Sidney’s fine leather furniture had been torn to pieces. Despondent, Katherine trudged over to a table in the centre of the lounge. Two members of the boys’ basketball team lay face down and comatose over it. Blake crept up behind her. He leaned over the boys, and examined about one’s of neck.

  “What are you doing?” She questioned, annoyed.

  “The winged Corrupted bites and sucks the energy from its prey. I’m looking for marks it may have left.”

  “So this thing, this Corrupted is a vampire?”

  “What are you? Twelve?” He responded, rolling his eyes. “No Katherine, vampires are not real.”

  “Funny, I thought the same thing about spirits and demons,” she responded, turning for the kitchen.

  Within the Kitchen, Lance was already at work, raising another unconscious student from the linoleum floor. In the corner of the kitchen and seated before a wooden table, she recognized two girls from her English class. Both were slouched over and unresponsive before an open bottle of liquor.

  Still no sign of either Justin or Naomi, she thought with relief.

  She glanced down at one of the girls’ necklines. “I think this winged Corrupted may have left a mark on this girl.”

  “Same goes for this one, there’s little doubt that it’s the same Corrupted…,” Lance replied, as he draped the body of a young man he’d collected over one shoulder and headed for the door.

  “The same Corrupted…,” she mumbled, remembering back to when both Monica and Blake had sensed the energy of this winged Corrupted soaring past them while on their way to the city.

  That earthen corrupted had referred to the wing corrupted as one of Namtar’s Reapers, she remembered. But then what does that make those two who attacked both me and my father? And what exactly is a Reaper? How is it different to your average Corrupted?

  She perused what remained of the kitchen. Little had gone untouched; shattered glass covered the bench, and many modern day appliances lay broken beyond repair. Leaving the kitchen and returning to the lounge, she knelt down to pick up a few framed photographs that had been knocked off a nearby cabinet. One of them, she had been quick to recognize, was a picture of Justin. He stood there beside his parents aboard a large vessel. She soon realised she’d seen this particular photo once before; the one time he’d brought her inside his new home. They hadn’t been dating long - only been going out a couple of months. But he’d explained to her, and as he held this picture, the reason for why he had moved here to live with his estranged uncle in the first place.

  He had held the photo, and had told her how his parents were presumed to have lost their lives at sea when he was a boy.

  They were both archaeological professors. He had said. They’d travelled the world in search of tomes and relics that dated back to the origins of ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia.

  When Justin was only seven years old, his parent’s had chartered a cargo ship and departed the Florida coastline heading for the Bermuda triangle. As a child, he said he’d accompanied them on many of their adventures, including the one that proved to be their last. He had somehow been the only one to survive this ill-fated voyage, and he remembered little of what happened while inside this treacherous part of the Atlantic Ocean; or of how he’d alone returned.

  At the time of its telling, the tale sounded a bit too far-fetched for Katherine to suspend her disbelief. But now, in light of what she’d seen and been exposed to recently, she saw little reason to doubt the validity of his history. Nevertheless, she remembered all too well how she’d found herself swept up by the tragic story, by the way Justin had recited it so fervently and eloquently. It had captivated both her heart and imagination.

  She saw Justin as a kindred spirit. He knew what it was like to lose someone most dear, and he’d expressed of his sorrow in a way to which she could relate: he had this picture and story of his parents in memory, and she had the sketching of Atlantis left behind by her mother.

  At numerous times all year since he’d transferred to Anabasis, he’d brought her comfort when she’d reflected on her own loss. He’d talked to her, empathized with and shared in her feelings. Through their growing conversations and time together, he had sparked her romantic passion. Although it had only been a couple of months, she’d become convinced that he was the one she wanted to spend the rest of her days with in sickness and in health, nestled in the touch of his warm embrace. Now, in face of what had happened to her, she yearned to see him and share her recent hardships. She wanted him by her side; to tell her everything would be okay.

  “There’s another couple upstairs,” said Lance, motioning for an additional officer to follow and help him.

  She looked up the stairwell, quietly wondering who this couple might be. One officer came back down the stairs cradling an unconscious Sadie in his arms. Lance followed shortly after. She peered up at the limp body which dangled down from his shoulder, and Katherine quickly realised it was Justin.

  She didn’t really know what to think, nor of how to respond. She sensed she was shaking and felt her emotions bubble to the surface. Sadness had come over her as she worried for his wellbeing, but she also felt a deep anger brewing.

  Why was he up there with Sadie Cassell? She wanted to scream, her muscles having tensed; her heart weighing heavily.

  She knew it wasn’t the time or place to question, nor dwell upon the possibility he’d cheated, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d betrayed her.

  “It’s all such a mess,” she mumbled beneath her breath, juggling back and forth between different emotional states.

  To feel such anger one minute, she thought, and then for both sadness and anxiety to follow so swiftly - it’s all a bit much to stand.

  She felt like crying out, thrashing at what remained standing about the lounge, and like running away as fast as her legs would carry her. As the emotions rose and resurfaced in cycles, she sought from deep within to suppress and control these urges. She knew she had to focus her mind on what still needed to be done.

  Where is Naomi? She wondered, knowing that finding her best friend should be her first priority.

  “Katherine, we’ve found Naomi,” she heard Monica call out. She was bemused with her teacher’s impeccable timing. “Naomi’s safe, but she’s fairly shaken, and refuses to speak with us.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s in the back of our utility,” Monica replied.

  Immediately, Katherine headed for the door
and hurried along the gravel driveway toward the front gate. She peered up into the back of the utility; Naomi was inside, wrapped in a thick blanket, and with Anzu resting at her side. Now that Naomi was found, Katherine found herself hankering to ask her whether she knew anything about Justin and Sadie. It had crossed her mind that perhaps she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. Naomi could offer her good counsel, as she had often done in the past.

  But as she gazed at Naomi, she couldn’t get past seeing how despondent her often bubbly and energetic best friend now looked. Through swollen eyes and blotches of black make-up, Naomi only stared back at her as if she was caught within a dazed stupor.

  “Kat…who are these people,” she heard Naomi whimper. “Are you with them…?”

  Katherine looked to her guardian; the gryphon continued to avert his head.

  Why do I always worry about the things least important? She wondered, over and over again I keep making this same mistake, and why am I always burdening others with my problems, and never being the one to help with theirs?

  To dwell in paranoia over whether Anzu had disclosed her thoughts to Monica, and to overlook that if he had, it was only to serve her best interests given the Corrupted’s many attacks. To stagger about in a morose and melancholic haze because of the possibility that a boyfriend of only a few months might have cheated on her, rather than focus on the fact that he was now unconscious. To rely on Naomi for guidance over matters largely trivial in the greater scheme of things, and yet ignore the fact she should be the one to provide her best friend with comfort…these were the things she grappled with…to comprehend such a horrifying evening. She thought of her father; of how disappointed he’d be in her misguided sense of priority. He’d lost his life so that she could go on living. Yet here she stood, thinking of running away from those that needed her, abandoning the innocent and those unable to defend themselves against the will of these Corrupted.

  “Yes, I am with this organisation,” she replied, looking back at Naomi with conviction. “And we’re here to help.”

  Chapter 19

  The price of ascension, and the cost that comes to those who form a celestial bond…, thought Monica, as she dabbed at the blood about her lips.

  Although she looked not a day older than forty three, internally she felt as if she had lived over hundreds of years. She frequently suffered from these splitting headaches that felt as though the beak of a bird was pecking away at her skull, and her muscles ached constantly. But it was from the blood that coursed through her veins where she felt the most discomfort. It felt like there was an agonizing stream of fire surging up and along her limbs. It also seemed as if she lost a part of herself every day, as though her soul was being strained through an empty void.

  If it wasn’t for Walter and his vast medical knowledge, he too afflicted with such similar ailments, she believed that living would be almost impossible. But even with his talents, they were not enough to rid her of all the pain, especially after she’d used up so much of her celestial energy.

  She hobbled along and leaned against the utility, her breathing laboured. Inside, she could hear Katherine consoling Naomi; telling her about the organisation’s struggles with the Corrupted, of her father’s untimely death, and all about her recent experiences as part of the Project. Much to her surprise, she also heard Naomi in turn share with her what had transpired at the party. Katherine leapt down from the utility and walked along the footpath.

  “Monica…, how long have you been standing there?” Katherine asked upon her passing.

  “Not long, have we learned anything useful?”

  “I have, I was just heading your way now,” Katherine replied.

  “Excellent, I can then introduce you,” she said, as they hurried along the footpath and toward a large surveillance trailer. “We have a special guest.”

  Once they reached the trailer, Monica carefully parted its back doors and guided Katherine up into the light. The vehicle’s interior was well equipped: survival articles of food and water were stored in excess about the space, copious supplies and medical apparatus had been stalled above in overhead compartments, and computer monitors lined the surrounding walls for surveillance purposes, according with the organisation’s own satellite feed. Gazing up at a screen, she saw Walter that was seated before an elaborate control panel covered with countless inputs, nobs and keys. There was another woman next to him, someone Monica assumed Katherine would be somewhat familiar with, for she’d regularly appeared in local news. This woman: dressed in black and with long wavy locks of grey hair, sat holding a lit cigar in her fingertips. Upon their entry, she looked back at Monica and Katherine curiously.

  “So, you must be Ms Munroe. The family resemblance is uncanny,” the woman said, as she raised the cigar to her lips and drew in the smoke.

  “Katherine, this here is Senator Margaret Gates,” Monica introduced them. “She wants to know if you’ve learned anything more –

  “- If you please Monica, I’m more than capable of questioning the girl myself,” the Senator interrupted, her voice hoarse. “Now Katherine, I trust the organisation has treated you well? They’ve provided you with sufficient explanation to many, if not all your questions?”

  “Yes Ma’am,” Katherine responded. “I believe so.”

  “And of your winged guardian…, Anzu is it? How has he fared with the transition back into our organisation’s ranks?” The Senator asked in earnest, tapping away the ash from the end of her cigar.

  Its remarkable she hasn’t keeled over yet with how much she smokes, Monica pondered, her eyes on the cigar the Senator held. How wonderful it must feel; to have such a guardian with mind altering capabilities where she can convince one’s senses there is no crippling pain.

  “With less difficulty than I,” Katherine admitted in response to the Senator’s question. “It’s taken me a while to adjust.”

  “As I’d fathom it would for anyone if placed within similar circumstances,” the Senator responded.

  She soon after heard the popping of an aluminium lid, accompanied by the cheerful chirping of a most delicate and innocent nature. Having stepped out from behind a small stack of supply crates, an elfish figure skipped toward the Senator, grasping a recently opened soda can. The petite sprite glanced up at her through its dark beady eyes with a playful grin.

  “This is Kishar,” the Senator said. “And she is my guardian.”

  The spirit was small enough that she could sit in the palm of a hand, which is exactly what she did. She leapt up onto the Senator’s open palm and sat there, peacefully sipping soda and swishing it about in her tiny mouth.

  “You mean to tell me that you’re also an Indigo…?” She heard Katherine stammer.

  “That is correct,” said the Senator. “Along with Walter, I am one of those from the Project’s first generation that still remain.”

  “I’m sorry sir, I had no idea that you also used to be an Indigo.”

  “Yes, this older gentleman used to be quite the young and dashing hero in his day,” the Senator responded.

  Walter blushed. “Thanks Margaret…, but this is hardly the time to reminisce.”

  Monica watched as Katherine crept forward to take a closer look at Margaret’s guardian.

  “She’s beautiful,” she heard Katherine say. “She’s like a fairy from fable.”

  The spirit visibly paused upon hearing the word ‘fairy’ uttered; she spat out the soda with disgust, and growled at Katherine through clenched teeth.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Katherine questioned, startled.

  “For centuries people have referred to Kishar by that title. Kishar believes that it invokes an unfair connotation of frailty,” the Senator replied, as she stroked her hand gently though the sprite’s dainty antennae.

  One can hardly blame them for thinking that, Monica believed, for she wasn’t particularly threatening upon first impression, regardless of how often she bared her little fangs.

  “She see
ms to really like the soda.”

  “She has a real sweet tooth. However, I do find it at times a little disconcerting; I’ve yet to find out if all the sugar has any detrimental effects on her health,” said the Senator, before she herself wheezed.

  Perhaps you should be worrying about your own health, thought Monica, as she watched the Senator cough up phlegm into a handkerchief.

  “It looks like she’s finished with that can, shall I get her another?” Monica offered.

  The Senator nodded, extinguishing of her cigar “I believe it only fair to reward her efforts; she’s had a busy night. You have done very well my guardian. Rest easy.”

  “It was fortunate that you arrived at the scene when you did…, this could very well have proven most disastrous for the Project,” said Monica, as she passed Kishar a can of soda.

  “Most disastrous…? There are reports of numerous civilian casualties. And if this wasn’t bad enough, we now have thirteen students that lie comatosed in the back of Government Issue utilities. Soon I’ll have to front up to my peers about the countless reports of our failure in preventing these recent attacks.”

  “Yes, but fortunately now we’ve someone who’s witnessed the attacks and could prove a potential lead to finding the whereabouts of more powerful Corrupted,” Walter said, his gaze resting on Katherine.

  The Senator looked at Katherine. “That’s if we can get this Ms Miller to speak.”

  “She spoke of a winged demon…, said Katherine, having received an approving nod from Monica to share with them what she’d learned. “It soared in through the window and started to feed on the other students. She had said the other students appeared blind to this Corrupted’s movements, and she was the only one who could see it. She then ran for it, out the front door and into the street.”

  “Did the corrupted not follow her?” Monica questioned, aware of what Naomi had already told her. “And how did she get away?”