Anatali: Ragnarok

by A. C. Edwards

  ANATALI: RAGNAROK

  A.C. EDWARDS

  Anatali: Ragnarok

  Copyright 2011 by A.C. Edwards

  www.anatali.com/universe

  for more content, world history, and contact information

  Published by A.C. Edwards

  on Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing

  All rights reserved, No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by in any form or any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Arc 1

  The Day After

  ~ 1 ~

  The morning after

  November 29, 4124 — 8:32 AM

  The dumpster lid creaked open. Brown eyes peered out, wide and cautious.

  "See anything, girl?"

  The eyes looked back, followed by a flurry of wriggles and a ‘yip.’

  "Damn, fine. Relax." Jessica closed the lid and plopped Ayla back in the refuse. The dumpster had been their sanctuary throughout the night, but at this point she'd risk anything to escape the smell. "We're going out."

  Jessica propped the lid with her stick and again lifted the dog, fingers combed around her white waist. Ayla dangled two feet from pavement when Jessica dropped her. Another yip. "Sorry."

  The alley's fresh air wasn't so fresh. Besides a restaurant's grease caddy, cases of empty liquor bottles awaited collection. Jessica choked back a dry heave—she hadn't eaten in a day. Ayla waited patiently, her tail swishing in the morning light. Nome's citywide Umbrella caught the sun and dispersed it evenly, erasing all but the most stubborn shadows.

  Jessica stretched her legs and brushed soggy vegetables off her pajama bottoms. Wiping her forehead, she smeared soot over bloodstained knuckles. Her cheeks were clean, mostly due to last night's wash of tears.

  Ayla sniffed the air. Her ears perked.

  "What is it?" Jessica reached for her field hockey stick. Ayla woofed, tail wagging low. The dumpster lid fell with a clap—girl and dog, off and running. Jessica didn't want to know. She'd already seen enough.

  They rounded a corner onto Market Street. The boulevard was intact, if vacant. Next to the weathered brick restaurant stood a plastic two-story supermarket. There was no public entrance, only a storefront with pick-up windows. Holograms of fresh breads and produce flashed in a mouth-watering slideshow. Jessica was tempted to collect a meal, but she heard moans inside.

  Behind them, a shadow shuffled into the alley, its posture limp. Daylight didn't seem to bother them, not when prey was near. Ayla glanced at their stalker, panting lightly.

  "Not very fast, are they?" Jessica said. She didn't know how, but her friend had a better grip of the situation than she did. Ayla told her when it was time to run, when to fight, and when it was safe to breathe. She always was the smart one in the fam—

  A car zoomed by, horn blaring as it passed. Its doors were ajar, its cab empty. The vehicle avoided a wrecked truck before turning the wrong way down a one-way street. A rumble in the earth accompanied a sharp boom and pillar of steam.

  "I'd say we need one of them, but if the nav network's…” Her shoulders slumped. “I don't know how to drive manual. Don't suppose you can, eh girl?" Ayla stared about the street. Jessica smiled and scratched between the dog’s ears.

  She didn't have much of a plan. All she wanted was to escape. Hopefully help was coming, but after the last twenty-four hours she didn't imagine there'd be many left to save. And if this had happened in every city, in every nation—the feds would have to pick and choose which cities to rescue. They wouldn’t start with little Nome.

  Ayla barked, snapping Jessica from her thoughts. Halfway up the alley, the shadow quickened to a trot. With a glance up the street, she ran across, cursing under her breath. At the lead, Ayla stopped and growled, this time at the row of parked cars; at the motion just beyond a sedan's hood.

  Jessica turned away, upstreet, and saw a bus careen towards her, swerving drunkenly at high speed. Sandwiched, she went for the sedan, leaping from her sprint. Her bare feet slammed atop the hood, her hooked stick gripped white-knuckled at her shoulder. Ayla vanished behind the trunk.

  "Goddamn it!"

  The 'motion' was a black arm attached to a legless body. The man's torso was covered in burnt, shredded flannel: the lack of hips was all that kept him from climbing. His face twisted in a snarl; blackened teeth with vacant cavities for eyes. The red mop of hair looked fake for color, though she could see it root into his shriveled scalp.

  Jessica swung her stick in an overhead smash. Soupy, gray clumps splattered her legs and feet. When the second arm swiped at her knees, she jumped over its shoulders, landing hard on her toes behind it.

  Ayla hunched wide-legged, barking at a florist's storefront. Three silhouettes moaned inside; two pounded the windows. The third, a slender woman in a dress, pushed the door open in a tinkle of bells.

  The sedan-corpse flattened backwards, neck oozing gray. His fingers wrapped Jessica's ankle. She kicked at him as the woman rushed her, claws outstretched, teeth gnashing. Jessica hooked the woman by the neck and threw her into the sedan's hood. Heart pounding every beat, she crushed her anchor's elbow and ripped free from tendon and bone. While its hand and forearm still gripped her ankle, the dead weight she’d lost was good enough.

  The bus sped by in a chorus of wails and rattling glass.

  "Ayla!"

  The dog ran after the bus, barking furiously. Jessica ran after her. There was no way to win against these things, only escape. With the monster's arm bouncing at her heels, she followed Ayla up Market Street, passing shop after shop, moan after groan.

  Ayla eventually lost interest when the bus disappeared over a distant hill. They'd backtracked away from Jessica's first goal, the city limits. They now faced City Centre. A trio of barks preceded a minute of panting as Ayla returned to her master. Jessica smirked.

  "Such a good girl." She crouched to pet her friend, their attackers five blocks behind. "How'd you get so smart?"

  The Mission hovered over downtown, framed by The Spire, and Shannon's Jetty. One of the three should have survivors. If not, they could at least offer a way out. Roaming the streets would only lead to more encounters like these—Jessica hammered the disembodied arm. The now-jellied hand puddled at her feet.

  "That's right, bitch. Fuck off."

  * * *

  In a twenty-minute trek down Market Street, there'd been more dark threats, runaway vehicles, and culinary seduction, but Jessica and Ayla stayed the course, reaching the edge of the downtown sub-district, City Centre.

  Cresting the hilltop, the heart of the city expanded before them. Jessica scanned the horizon of 'Anatali's Toy Box,' viewing what might save them in its jarring mix of old and new, mundane and unique. Nome's centuries-aged office buildings stood side-by-side with state-of-the-art experiments such as Shannon's Jetty, a vertical, sub-orbital elevator. City Hall, a squat, granite homage to ancient America, was overshadowed by The Spire, a two-hundred-floor super-structure which glistened under the a canopy known as the Umbrella. City Centre was encircled and dissected by a raised network of rail trains, bullets that still whizzed past with tick-tok regularity.

  All this technology but nothing to protect her but a stick, her dog, and their wits. Jessica fumed. No matter what the details, The Mission should be helping, but after last night's fireworks display, the floating fortress had been silent. Supposedly it could drop thousands of automated troops. She hadn’t seen a one. How the miles-wide, lumpy relic still hovered was anyone's guess, especially if its staff had been killed during the night.

  Ayla barked as a band of eight exited a pharmacy. Jessica dropped her stomach-churning gray
-gooed pajama bottoms. She'd wanted to loot a department store for some clothes and shoes, but as Market Street crossed into City Centre, it still might be a while before she had the opportunity.

  Panties and sports bra, Jessica shrugged off her modesty, and said, “Let's move.”

  ~ 2 ~

  Morning to mourning

  November 28, 4124 — 11:13 AM

  The smell of breakfast roused Jessica from bed: coffee, sausage, butter-fried eggs, and the sweet vanilla of French toast. The chorus of a punk band accompanied sizzling skillets. Hopefully Jacob was making enough for two.

  Jessica yawned and scratched a foot against her calf, kicking aside a path to the door. Last night had been another late one. She'd shadowed Dillon the entire evening and goddamn if he didn't make the rounds, hitting three bars in as many hours. By last-call she'd been lucky to have the cab fair home. She never made her confession. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow—she'd make amends.

  In the bathroom, she relieved herself of the beers she was too drunk to take care of last night. While brushing her teeth, Jessie avoided the mirror. She didn't want to look at herself until after breakfast and a shower. Between spits, she said, "Jake, that you?"

  "Who else?" Jacob's voice cracked, competing with the music. "Knock on mom's door, ok? I made enough for everyone."

  Everyone would include mom's latest conquest, be it a familiar companion or someone new. Jessica frowned, deciding to let her sleep it off a while longer. She entered the small dining-room-kitchen and kissed Jacob on the cheek. Her tween-baby brother was the most mature member of the family and truly the man of the house. He also made a good pot of coffee. Pouring herself a cup, Jessica collapsed at the table, closing a window's curtains.

  "Another day in paradise, eh?"

  "Don't you know it." Jacob turned the music down. "Did you wake mom and Brian?"

  So it was Brian last night. That explained the noise, though it'd been a few weeks since he'd paid a visit. "I knocked, but I ain't going in there. Did you make sausage?"

  "It's running a little slow—frozen." Jacob filled two plates with an assortment of meats and dairy, nibbling as he did. He was short for his age and reached on his toes for the back burners. Ayla scampered underfoot, begging for scraps.

  "Thanks," Jessica said. "So, you excited about Hanukkah?"

  "Not really." Jacob tossed Ayla a half-slice of toast and sat to eat. "I miss Dad."

  Jessica glanced towards Mom's bedroom. "He’ll be with us."

  "He can see this." Jacob hid his face in his plate.

  "Hey, listen." She reached for his shoulder. "I ain’t saying she’s right, but she ain’t wrong. It’s not up to us. I'm just happy to have you, ok? We'll stick together, I promise."

  "Until Dillon accepts your love and you run off to get married. Then I'll be all alone cooking for one."

  "Fuck Dillon," Jessica said. "I’m not going anywhere. I just need a talk is all."

  "He's a total asshat, sis."

  "Don't I know it."

  They laughed and finished their breakfast. Despite having a visitor in the house, Jessica felt comfortable and happy, something she credited to Jacob. He was her true family and first love—even over her dad. He was tender, kind; yet stronger than any of them. If anyone could survive this mess of a house, it'd be him.

  Jessica shooed Jacob away from the kitchen. He’d obviously taken a home-study day, and if 'Mr. Marsden' didn’t get a homework update by four, that was truancy. After dropping table scraps to Ayla, she cranked the volume on his music. Washing dishes, she sang along:

  I saw you last night, I saw you in his car.

  I know just what you did, I know just what you are.

  I kicked his fucking ass, I broke his goddamn nose.

  Blood is on your hands, shoulda seen the way it flows.

  I ain't no fucking fool, I ain't your fall-back boy.

  I ain't no fucking tool, I ain't your mindless toy.

  A tingle drew Jessica out of her song and thoughts.

  A chill in the air.

  She looked out the window between the streets and sky, wondering if a cold front had penetrated tropical Nome's Umbrella. The horizon darkened to the west, eerie, almost as if dawn was repeating at noon. Ayla whimpered and hid under the table. Jessica dried her hands and walked towards Jacob's room. Maybe it was an eclipse—he knew about that stuff.

  Halfway up the hall, she felt a vibration in the floor. Dishes and picture frames rattled. An earthquake? It strengthened to a deep, audible bass. She yelled for Jacob. The ground jumped. Jessica fell to her knees, screaming.

  Balled-up, a rush of cold burned her arms with freezing pain. Unable to think or move, Jessica held still as the trailer's ceiling shattered. Her voice was lost in a roaring wind. The roof blew away, followed by the bubbling and melting of the walls. Plastics ignited, bathing her in a contrast of intense heat. At a glance, swirls of black rushed over the home. The moments, minutes, felt like an eternity. It all stopped so suddenly, Jessica found herself in the calm, without breath.

  Jacob.

  Jessica choked back her panic and ran down the hall with an arm over her mouth. The walls were alight with violet flames—blinding smoke. Ramming into his door, she turned the doorknob and gasped. She ripped her hand away, leaving skin stuck to the frozen metal. She hurled her shoulder against the door and shouted his name. No response.

  Again on mom's door, Jessica kicked and pounded, screaming for an answer—silence. Smoke filled the hall even as it rose to the sky. She coughed and gagged, crawling to her bedroom. She felt dizzy. With clumsy lunges Jessica searched for anything that might save Jacob. Her bleeding fingers wrapped around something smooth, something solid. Her lousy field hockey stick from high school. Jessica fought the urge to sink into the layers of clothes on her floor.

  In flashes she realized she was facedown and couldn't move her legs. One last breath, and all was replaced by darkness.

  * * *

  Gentle, wet pressure lapped against her cheek. The panting in her ear was a rhythm of comfort. A heartbeat. Alive.

  She woke with a gasp.

  It took a minute to remember her name, much less what had happened. Jessica lay twisted, half buried in a pile of damp t-shirts and underwear. Ayla licked her face again, curled under her arm. She rolled onto her back, grimacing at the stiffness in her joints. Her ceiling was starlight and red-tinted clouds. Screams and explosions echoed near and far. What day was it?

  Jessica pushed to her knees, feeling as if she'd smoked a carton of cigarettes. Bumps and scratches from mom's room interrupted her coughs. At once relieved and worried, she hobbled to the hall. Ayla stood, growling low. "Mom? Jacob?"

  A trio of hollow moans wandered over the walls. The discolored sky created shadows within shadows, shifting with the breeze. Jessica turned Jacob's doorknob, pressing with her weight. It opened with a loud squeal. "Jake? Are you ok?"

  From inside, a body tackled her at the hips, slamming the door to the wall. Off-balance, Jessica caught the knob as her head bounced off the wood. With a flurry of scratches and yanks, Jacob dragged her down. The moans from mom's room got loud. Ayla let loose in rapid, ear-piercing barks. Jessica kicked him back by the shoulder.

  "Jake, it's me! Fuck—it's Jessie!"

  The silhouette snarled, hands outstretched in misshapen claws. Jessica scrambled back, calling for her mother. What used to be Jacob leapt at her knees. She tripped over Ayla in her retreat—painful and fortunate. Her brother rammed face-first into her heels and collapsed. When Ayla limped for Jessica's bedroom, the girl followed ass-in-the-air like a monkey. The door slammed behind as she landed on her cushion of clothes.

  Ayla circled in place, tail tucked low. Jessica hyperventilated. The doorknob jiggled. Snapped into motion, denim and vinyl flew as Jessica searched for her stick. The rattling stopped, replaced by clawing up the door. The sound repeated twofold at her mother's wall.

  Again, hands around her stick, Jessica held it to her chest and backe
d into the farthest corner. Ayla followed, pressed against her calves. Both stared up the ceiling-less walls. Tears welled in her eyes. "It's me. It's me. It's me."

  In the flash of a nearby explosion, Jacob's face appeared over the wall. His face was set in an open-mouth hiss, his teeth coated in blood. His ears and nose were gone, replaced by torn tissue and hollow recesses. Cracked skin oozed, congealed red, dripping with his movement. His eyes were the worst part: vacant, yet set upon Jessica. The cavities contained an absolute, otherworldly darkness. There was no skin on his hands; only bone and muscle supported his grip at the wall's top. Much the same, mom and Brian appeared in unison, scaling the wall with broken nails and guttural snarls.

  Jessica couldn't think, couldn’t breathe, but she wasn't resigned. She rushed to her window, smashing it. At a glance, she saw while Jacob and mom fell out of sight, Brian tumbled over the wall, landing with a moist thump. There was no time to run. Ayla barred her teeth. Jessica tightened her grip.

  "Brian, it's Mary's daughter, Jessica!"

  The big man rose to his feet, growling.

  "Calm down! You're gunna be—"

  He led with his face, aimed for a takedown. Jessica spun out of the way, shoving Brian into the window with her stick. Broken plastics shredded his torso, a balloon filled with black blood. The moans from mom and Jacob continued, now unified at her door.

  No way out.

  Brian's body tore himself from the window. His guts spilled to his feet in strings and clumps. When he slipped on his own organs, Jessica cracked him above the shoulders, driving him to the floor. Shouting, she hammered the back of his head and neck. Brian's skull splintered, exposing gray jelly. He planted his feet on the wall and flopped forward, knocking Jessica down on top. Rolling off his back, she braced herself on the windowsill before double-handing a side-swing. Brian rose to his knees, back turned, head resting loose on his shoulder. His skull burst. The stick’s flat hook sent the splatter across the far wall.