The Armageddon Effect (Egregor Book 1)

by Ric Dawson

  “Good man.”

  Doors slammed and engines raced as the trucks zoomed out of the garage towards the nearby Interstate 25 onramp. They headed south out of Denver.

  Moments later the loud, piercing howl of the city emergency klaxon spun up.

  Traffic was light this time of night as most people were either sitting down at home to dinner or out at restaurants. TV channels and radios immediate went to emergency alert status, displaying messages and loud three-tone horn blasts.

  “Immediately seek shelter underground. This is not a test,” repeated over and over.

  Sirens blared as the emergency vehicles careened at over a hundred miles per hour down I-25.

  “Easy, Corporal, let’s not cause an accident,” Pono said as Corporal Nash whipped Rad-1 around a car a little too slow to move to the side. “The hills will protect us from the pulse and we have EMP-protected systems on the trucks so you can slow a bit. The pulse will knock out some but not all of the traffic; street lights that are solar-powered may stay on at least for tonight. The egg heads think so anyway. Luckily it’s not snowing yet.” Pono peered into the night sky. Snow was in the forecast for the evening and early morning.

  The vehicle lurched to the right, passing another slow-moving van. Pono gripped the passenger support handle tighter but said nothing.

  # # #

  Cindy

  Cindy Farlan was shopping with her eleven-year-old daughter Megan in one of the many boutique shops on the ground-floor pavilion of the Antlers Hotel, a downtown Colorado Springs landmark. Cindy had that outdoorsy, well-racked, farm girl look that men lusted after. She kept herself fit with Pilates and had little fat even though she had just turned thirty-eight. Blonde hair. Freckles. Her daughter, Megan, looked like her twin sister, right down to the blue eyes.

  Dusk had settled over the front range and the November chill crept into the city. Most of the snow had melted, with only a few spots where it had been pushed into icy piles. Sounds of clinking glass and laughter poured from downtown clubs and restaurants as patrons settled in to a pleasant evening with family and friends. Colorful Christmas lights draped around poles and storefronts created a festive glow.

  “Mom, this watercolor landscape is beautiful. It actually seems three-dimensional. Do you think the painter used the red Z technique in the middle of the canvas to create the depth effect?” Megan said.

  “Yes, I think so, sweetie. The painting seems to draw you in. Those lovely aspens are perfectly layered around that spectacular mountain lake. I especially like the backdrop of the high mountain valley,” Cindy said.

  “The painter did a fantastic job with shadows and the illusion of depth,” Megan said.

  “I still think yours look better.” Cindy hugged her daughter. “You are getting better at noting the detail in paintings, dear,” she said.

  The storefront glass shook as the reverberating wail of the city’s civil defense siren spun up. Confused, Cindy led her young daughter outside. The volume increased to the point Cindy and Megan had to place hands over their ears.

  The emergency siren was on top of the hotel and had a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree sound cone. At one hundred and thirty decibels, the siren caused ear-ringing for those close by. The loud, undulating wail rose and fell in a steady pattern. Cindy looked around. Most people continued on their way, unperturbed by the klaxon.

  “It’s odd to run a siren test at night,” Cindy said, looking skyward.

  “It’s cold, Mom, and loud. Let’s go back inside.” Megan pulled Cindy back into the glass-fronted boutique where the window glass absorbed most of the sound.

  After two minutes of wailing, Cindy saw a police cruiser race down Colorado Avenue. She heard something on a loudspeaker but couldn’t make it out over the blaring of the emergency siren. She was getting nervous. “Wait here, hon. Let me just check what the police car loudspeaker is saying.”

  “Okay Mom,” Megan said. Cindy hurried to the glass door and went outside.

  A cold chill ran up her spine as she heard the loudspeaker: “Seek shelter immediately, stay away from windows. This is not a drill, this is not a drill,” repeated over and over as another police cruiser zoomed by and headed up Colorado Avenue towards Manitou Springs.

  Looking around, she saw stunned people run to their cars as tires screeched and people cursed. Within moments, more people flooded out of buildings and sprinted to parked cars.

  Cindy froze. “Real. How can it be real?”

  A startled flock of geese hurried by overhead. Their wings flapped frantically. Do they know something, she mused, transfixed as they passed. A woman with two children pushed by, knocking her back. The strong push galvanized Cindy into motion. She ducked back into the shop. A nervous clerk looked at her, fear in her eyes.

  “What’s going on?” the clerk said.

  “The police are telling people the warning is real and to seek shelter immediately,” Cindy said.

  Outside, the traffic had gridlocked. Cars jumped onto sidewalks to get around congestion amid shouts and screams of anger. Above the din, the unmistakable sound of a car crash bounced off nearby buildings. Someone ran a red light in front of the historic hotel.

  Where should we go? she wondered. The words went through her mind over and over. She watched the street in growing panic. Cindy glanced back and forth out the main window.

  Five minutes had passed since the siren began and the street outside was impassable. Horns blared, and people screamed in a cacophony of sound.

  The young clerk yelled, her eyes wide, “There’s a parking garage under the building. It’s got a lot of concrete around it.” She ran for the door.

  Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, Cindy charged out the door after the sales clerk. Megan followed. People filled the open courtyard near the hotel entrance. They dashed inside as people scrambled all around her, pushing and bumping. A group of people jammed a side door. Over the door the bold letters “Parking Garage” blinked.

  Cindy pushed over to the growing press of people and tried to squeeze forward. Megan held Cindy’s hand tight and stayed behind her as others jostled them forward. The crowd, like a living thing, carried them through a door and down the stairs.

  “Please don’t fall, please don’t fall,” Cindy murmured.

  The people in the stairwell crushed into each other. Their eyes filled with anxiety and fear. The stairwell descended several stories. Cindy felt reassured by the extra concrete that braced the walls.

  People emerged from the stairwell like flotsam ejected onto a quiet concrete shore. Hundreds milled around the parking garage. Cindy pulled Megan through the sweating bodies. She felt Megan’s hand squeeze her own. Exits opened to each side over a hundred feet away. People and cars were flowing into both of them in a steady stream.

  She spotted an alcove away from the crowd. It was recessed into a wall with a solid concrete buttress blocking it from line of sight with the open entryways. Pushing through the thinning crowd, she dragged Megan over to it and wedged her in. Cindy settled down to wait with an arm around her daughter’s shivering shoulders. Twelve minutes had passed since the civil defense siren had gone off.

  The store clerk crouched nearby. “Hi, I’m Nancy.” She held out a trembling hand.

  “I’m Cindy, and this is my daughter Megan,” Cindy said.

  “Hi,” Megan said with a small wave. Somehow it eased the tension. Nancy relaxed.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I join you?” Nancy asked.

  “Of course not, dear.” Cindy extended her other hand. Nancy grasped it tightly, too nervous to say anything else. Nancy sat with her back facing the open underground garage.

  What seemed only moments later, a brilliant flash illuminated both garage entryways. Great yellow spots filled Cindy’s vision. As the spots faded, reflections off car windows showed smoke rising from the ground. Then the cars outside exploded. Moments later the ground heaved, tossing all three of them into the air. Large chunks of concrete fell from
the ceiling. People were screaming. A deafening crack-bang reverberated off the shimmering walls, followed by a thunderous rumble that continued long seconds.

  Something hard pushed against Cindy’s chest. It crushed her, pushing her into the concrete floor.

  Cindy struggled, her face contorting in pain. She couldn’t breathe. Her vision filled with blurry spots. Something warm and wet ran down her chin and neck. Her ears rang. The pungent scent of burning hair invaded her nostrils.

  The garage support columns swayed as cars danced on their tires. The pressure lessened. Cindy tucked her head as sharp concrete chips and chunks rained down.

  Dust hung in the hot air and obscured everyone in clouds of debris. The thunder faded when another brilliant flash illuminated the underground garage.

  “Dear God!” she cried. Tears ran down her face and left tracks on her dirty cheeks. The bright light, diffused and scattered from the dust, caused the air to glow eerily. People huddled in groups, white chalky faces illuminated by the strange ghostly glow.

  The air scorched her lungs. Cindy could feel her face and arms searing. The ground rose, twisted, and jerked. The overpressure slammed her down again. In the background, angry gods unleashed the crackling thunder of hell on earth. Another fierce light illuminated the night. Farther away, its thunderclap was choked by the surrounding clutter and airborne wreckage.

  Outside, winds howled one way then another like monstrous dust devils battling the sky. The hotel swayed and jerked. Large sections fell several stories to the ground and added to the rising volume of noise. The ground shuddered and walls rumbled as the building above them collapsed. The echoes lasted for long minutes amid shattering explosions of nearby buildings that tumbled in upon themselves.

  Trembling, crying, Cindy held her daughter tightly, rocking back and forth amid the screams and terror of frightened humanity. The thunder slowly faded with the raging shriek and howl of violent winds.

  Cindy realized the trembling and the shaking of the ground had stopped. The underground parking structure had not collapsed.

  Sections of the roof had fallen. Meandering, dark streams seeped from under the fallen chunks of concrete.

  Cindy’s muscles refused to move, and she held her daughter close. Dark blood stains spread over her blouse. Cindy’s skin stung from multiple burns.

  Outside, darkness returned, black without the reassuring glow of streetlights and neon signs. Flickering yellows and reds reflected fires that burned nearby. Thick clouds of choking dust obscured visibility.

  “It stopped. We need to get out. Now. We need to get out of the building before it collapses further. Come on!” Nancy said.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Cindy tried to remember what the civil defense ads used to say.

  “Stay inside. Wait until help came. That’s what people used to say. I think we should stay here,” Cindy replied.

  “W-What if the building collapses?” Nancy’s eyes teared.

  “I’m going to stay. I think those were atomic bombs. There will be radiation,” Cindy said.

  “Atomic b-bombs?” Nancy stuttered in the darkness. “My God.” Nancy reached for Cindy’s arms and pushed in closer, her bloodshot eyes wide with fear.

  Battery-driven emergency lights popped on over the stairwell doors.

  Pulling out a handkerchief, Cindy leaned over and wiped the blood from Megan’s chin and lips. Then she cleaned Nancy’s face before cleaning her own.

  “We’re going to be okay. God is with us. Pray with me,” Cindy said.

  Rumbles echoed through the underground structure for ten minutes as subsurface seismic waves reflected off higher density strata.

  Terrified people coughed under the cloak of choking aerosol; many lay still amid growing pools of blood-drenched debris. Car alarms finally grew silent as the horror-filled gloom of the night brought the blackness closer.

  Self-contained emergency lights created muted white glows over the exits. The howl of winds had lessened outside as the city fires continued the destruction of Colorado Springs. Time passed …

  # # #

  Cold crept into the garage like a silent hunter. Cindy shivered in the dark. Some people had left, hurrying out into the night. Others, like her, waited for dawn. Silence gradually enveloped the smoldering rubble-strewn city. Long hours passed. Huddled in the alcove, cradling Megan, exhausted, Cindy fell into a troubled sleep.

  “Mom, wake up, Mom!” Megan urgently pushed Cindy’s shoulders.

  Cindy opened her eyes with a start. “I’m up. I’m awake,” she replied groggily, coughing. Her head hurt and her skin burned. That’s good, she thought, you can’t feel third-degree burns.

  She turned and threw up.

  The smell of burnt meat and feces mixed with vomit assailed her nostrils. She felt weak. Nancy was curled up nearby, not moving, her skirt soiled with dark spots of fecal matter. Blood and brown vomit stained her blouse.

  “Mom, we need to go, everyone has left. It’s light outside,” Megan continued, urgently pulling on Cindy’s arm to get her up.

  “Okay, let me stand up,” she mumbled as she rose to her feet. “Nancy. Wake up. Nancy.” Cindy reached over and pushed at Nancy’s still form.

  She groaned. “I can’t, can’t stand up,” Nancy whispered as she curled tighter into a fetal position, clutching her stomach.

  “Nancy get up, I can’t carry you,” Cindy cried out as she tried to lift Nancy to her feet. Nancy responded, climbed to her feet, then doubled over in pain as her guts heaved. She spewed out small streams of bloodied bile. Cindy and Megan slipped Nancy’s arms over their shoulders as they struggled through the debris towards the exit.

  Collapsed chunks of roof all but blocked the exit. Bodies lay strewn on the garage floor, some severely burned with strangely ripped skin and popped eyes. Cindy looked away and concentrated on finding a way out. A small opening at the top of the rubble allowed people to crawl over the top to the sidewalk beyond.

  A few scraped knees and bruises later, she was outside the garage. Cindy couldn’t see the sun amid the dust and ash. Black puddles of sooty water chilled in small depressions and holes. Thick clouds floated through the drab winter sky.

  Other huddled figures, in small groups, headed west over the nearby Colorado Avenue bridge. Burnt-out and blackened cars blocked the streets. Many had overturned and lay crushed in partly melted piles. Others were thrown off the bridge onto the Union Pacific tracks below. Up ahead, along the I-25 freeway, slagged car hulks stood bumper to bumper, as far as the eye could see.

  Making their way around the debris, Cindy and Megan helped Nancy across the bridge over the rail yard. As Cindy came to the end of the bridge, she saw four people resting on the ground near a slagged car. All of them wore torn clothes; their exposed skin was blistered and an angry red. A man helped two children and a woman to their feet. One side of the woman’s hair was burned off, leaving red burns on her scalp, cheek, and neck.

  “We need to get away from downtown. Please come with us,” Cindy said as she held out a hand to steady the injured woman. With a start, Cindy noticed she felt better. She could tell Megan did too. They stood a bit taller. The pain had lessened to a mild throb. Cindy felt confident, for the first time in hours, that they might survive. Even Nancy groaned less and stood up for longer periods.

  The woman smiled at her and mumbled a thank you.

  Startled, Cindy could have sworn her hand glowed a soft violet. Cindy blinked. Was she losing it? The woman seemed to gain strength, standing up. Her eyes cleared as her pain lessened. She clutched Cindy’s hand, staring at her for several moments.

  “You’re a healer. Praise our Dear Lord above. A healer,” the woman muttered.

  “P-Please, we need to move now, quickly.” Cindy headed towards the toppled I-25 overpass.

  Cindy spied three more people near another burned and melted car. One cradled a small child, while crying and rocking slowly. As she came up on them, she noted the child was covered in vomit
and diarrhea. Blood seeped from her tiny ears and nose. Cindy slipped down to the ground to help comfort the child. The young girl was awake and those pretty blues seemed to look right through her. Cindy’s heart broke as she lightly stroked the clear areas around her burnt scalp and spread her fingers over the hurtful burns on the child’s face.

  She didn’t know why she was doing that, it just seemed right. Cindy felt a strong heat coursing down the length of her arms. Her skin tingled as the heat sped through her fingertips. The strange violet glow in her hands had returned. As she continued stroking the air centimeters from the child’s skin, the redness began to fade from wounds, and scar tissue healed before her eyes.

  Far away she heard gasps.

  “Praise God. It’s a miracle,” someone whispered.

  Cindy looked up. “I have no idea how I am doing this, but I’m glad I can help.”

  “It’s a miracle.” Awed, a man standing near the child began to pray. “You’re … a healer sent from God,” he said.

  “Well, I don’t know about that.” Cindy gathered her skirt and rose to her feet. “We need to hurry. We are in great danger here.”

  The woman who had been rocking the child lifted the frail-looking girl. “We are ready.”

  Cindy’s eyes glazed and she felt something urging her on.

  “Yes,” she said and looked toward the mountains.

  Those around her just nodded to themselves; they knew she was speaking to angels. She had the look.

  The group moved westward, picking their way through large sections of buckled roadway. Flipped and burned wrecks littered the packed street and burned bodies filled the stores and cars. Dried blood peeked from under the debris.

  “I feel better just being around you.” Nancy walked without pain.

  “I’m happy you are walking,” Cindy replied.

  “Mom, did you see your hands glow rose with yellow sparkles when you healed that baby?” Megan said. She bounced as she spoke.

  People behind them looked over at Cindy’s hands.

  “Healer’s hands,” someone whispered.