“What’s that smell?” Dave asked.
“It’s what we call the crevasses,” Serif stated. “It’s easier to show than to describe it to you.”
Continuing up the rise, Dave estimated that this area was above the rest of the plains, almost equal to the outer perimeter of the crater, like the farthest curtain ‘wall’ that encircled them.
Once they were at the top, Dave could see a flat area, crisscrossed with bridges. As they got closer, it became clear why Serif called them the crevasses. The ground itself appeared like a glacier or a baked riverbed. Cracks and furrows ran deep into the earth. The cliff-like edges of either side were interlinked by rope bridges. Each extended toward the centre.
Beyond the chasms and network of bridges lay an aging city. Towering buildings of glass, concrete, and steel remained standing. Somehow it reassured him that the grand structures would remain even after all this time.
Serif pointed toward one of many paths across. “We need to cross the bridges. We will have to pay tribute if we want to get across. These men are businessmen. They will want something in trade for maintaining the bridges. If you don’t pay, they don’t let you by. If you cause trouble, they push you into the chasm. Remember that while we are here. Let me do the talking.”
The first rope bridge that Dave came to was made from woven steel cables as thick as his wrist. The rust colour masked their strength. Dave had thought they were ropes rather than steel. Ahead of them on the wide planks an elderly woman was making her way toward them. On her back was a large load of two by fours cut into firewood on her back. The bridge swayed slightly under each of her careful steps. Once she was off of the bridge, the trio stepped on ahead.
Dave was pleased that it had held for her and her cargo. It reassured him that it would be able to carry their weight.
Following Serif, Dave made his way across the planks hung between the two ropes. The cross braces were far enough apart that he wondered if he would even have a chance to grab one if he slipped.
His eye wandered downward to the bottom of the chasm. He could see only darkness below, but a sulphur-imbued steam rose from the depths, and the updraft of heat seemed to indicate an intense volcanic hell far below. For a moment vertigo overtook him, and he felt as though he would tip over the edge, despite looking at his feet, the boards, and the abyss. With a racing heart, he forced his chin up and looked toward the other side.
Eventually, they stepped onto the first plateau, and Dave pried his white knuckles from the parallel cables of the bridge. He turned and watched Genie step off as though it was just a sidewalk, her demeanour calm and relaxed.
Serif walked up to a man wearing a black bandana around the top of his head. His clothes were woven from a single type of material and gave him a more ‘put-together’ look rather than the patchwork appearance of most of the travellers who were passing by.
“We are heading to the city and wish to cross your bridges.” Serif opened his bag and produced the unopened tube of dust.
For a moment Dave’s mind wandered to the feeling he had when it sunk into his skin. The warm glow that it had produced. He swallowed hard as he watched Serif pull it back from the man. “For all three of us.”
The man produced three metal coins on strings and handed them to Serif before he was provided with the tube. The businessman turned to the group of guards and handed the tube to them. Dave watched carefully, licking his lips as the dust was carried away, to be placed in a heavy metal chest nearby. The guards remained.
Serif came back to them, handing them each a coin. It was made from gold and was heavy on the end of the string. Serif put his around his neck and motioned for Dave to do the same. “It’s so you don’t drop it. If you lose it, they throw you over. It’s your safe passage.”
Dave immediately followed instructions. Once around his neck, he picked it up and noticed an arc stamped across it representing a crude suspension bridge.
“We paid too much, but I don’t want to be carrying dust inside the city,” Serif stated.
“Why not get rid of it?” Dave asked. He could still remember the bliss he had felt under its control. “Isn’t that like handing over poison?”
“Things are rough in a lot of places. People pay for things they shouldn’t need or want. It gets us across. That’s all that matters.”
Dave eyed the steel box near the guards.
“Stay close,” Serif said to Dave, turning and walking toward one of the bridges to the right.
They crossed the plateau and stepped onto the next bridge. This one was made from metal beams, and wooden planks covered the walking surface. It was strong and wide, giving Dave a reprieve from the sense of impending death due to falling. After three more plateaus and as many bridges, they stepped off the ring of plateaus, and Dave sighed in relief.
A large group of men stood at the far end, collecting and selling the gold medallions. Hastily, Serif and Genie handed theirs over, and Dave followed suit.
“Where is the other?” the archer said, approaching them.
“He was killed on the road by zealots,” Serif stated sadly.
The man was businesslike and nodded. “They will see you.”
“Who?” Dave asked.
“The council,” Serif stated.
Chapter 15
Dave walked toward the city across the packed earth. The green blades had surrendered to the spalled concrete and asphalt. A transition line between the chasms and the city was as defined here as it was out beyond the fields. The cut-away quality applied to the skyscrapers on the outer edge, as it had to the houses he saw earlier in the day. Here too rooms were cut open, exposed to the now pervasive wind.
Most still stood, but Dave could see there were others that had collapsed into mountainous piles of rubble.
As they entered the city, he could see that the change in soil from the baked earth to the asphalt was just as defined. A few trees that looked like they had been ornamental stuck out sporadically from the concrete, overgrowing the once tiny holes they had been rooted in. The sidewalk was buckled and lifted by the power of ancient roots.
Aging roads were either torn up and covered with grass or with makeshift stalls, selling a wide variety of goods, food, clothing, even edged weapons — occasionally stacks of magazines and books. Dave suspected most people here did not read.
Winding through the stalls, the archer took them across an intersection toward a corner building. As Dave moved up the steps of a shorter, two-storey building amid the skyscrapers, he stopped to look left. Union Station stood occupying almost the entire length of the street, its stone walls and carved pillars from a time before the arrival of the Black Dome.
He had been here as a child. Dave recalled how his father had taken him to a baseball game, and they had arrived via the subway.
The memory made him smile weakly for a moment. Looking down the street, he recalled there had been a tower. One that people had flocked to look at the city from a bird’s eye view. It no longer stood. A pile of crushed concrete and rebar marked where it had stood, once a point of reference for everyone in the city, now camouflaged into the rest of the debris. Postcards, books, tourist trinkets, all identified the city by the tower itself.
It didn’t surprise him that it was no longer standing, but he wondered if it had crumbled or fallen victim to the odd pattern of destruction that had taken place to his home city.
“Come inside,” Serif said, standing at the top of the stairs.
Dave turned away from the familiar sight and looked at the building before him. From its once ornate carvings on the exterior hung heavy ivy. The heavy wooden doors stood open, waiting for him.
Dave had to guard himself against a sad nostalgia as he walked up the steps and into the cool darkness. Serif closed the door behind him, and held up a lantern, dusting himself off from the travels.
The second inner set of doors was pulled open by a man in a long, knitted robe. “The council will see you, Mr. Serif.”
Serif turned to Dave. “Explain the best you can. These people are here to help. This is their city, and they have defended it for over a hundred years from the queen. Trust them. Above all else, be honest.”
Dave stepped forward through the door, following Serif. The room was taller somehow than he had expected, giving the feel of a church. The vaulted ceiling allowed light into the room by way of long windows. Beams of light carved from the windows, through the dust, and onto the smooth marble floor. A centre stained glass dome capped the room. Dave could imagine how it must have looked with a real sun streaming through.
Below the glass dome were a number of mismatched sofas and chairs organized in a large circle. They were occupied by old men and women. Each wore a blue band of fabric as a sash, and it appeared it was only a formality to indicate that they were not just a group of people who had settled into a discussion about current events.
The group turned toward them as they approached. An ancient woman rose as Serif came within speaking distance. “Serif. It is good to see you again.” She reached out for an embrace. Genie stepped calmly off to the side, skulking into the shadows to watch from the nearby pillars.
“It is good to see you too, Mother,” he replied gently, wrapping his long arms around her tiny frame.
He released her and turned to the group, bowing respectfully before pointing to Dave. “I wish to introduce Dave Thompson. He comes to us from beyond the curtain and brings troubling news.”
“I heard there were two?” Serif’s mother asked. She looked at her son and back to Dave.
Serif shook his head sadly. “The queen’s thralls struck while we were on the far side of the chasm. He was killed.”
Her face saddened at the news. Dave felt his gut clench at the thought of his friend. He breathed deep, forcing the feelings downward.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” She placed a hand on Dave’s shoulder for a moment. He could feel the warmth through the thin, worn clothing.
Serif stepped back and motioned for Dave to follow and address the group.
Dave was surprised that the people had stopped conversing and were looking at him. The air was still and silent now, cut by a few whispers between council members. He felt sweat build as the fifteen or so people turned to look at him intently.
“Go ahead. We are all friends here. Tell us about where you came from. Tell us why you are here.”
Dave nodded and swallowed dryly. He tried his best to think of where to start. How did you tell a group of people that their world was going to come to an end?
Taking a step forward with tentative confidence, Dave stood near the edge of the circle. “For us on the outside, everything has happened recently. Ten years ago for us the black dome, what you call the curtain, arrived. It appeared, and we considered it impenetrable but inert. My friend Tony…” Dave’s mind trailed to his friend’s last minutes, skewered on the sharpened wood, “…Tony had been studying it and identified that it had been absorbing our air and water. The field… the curtain uses it as fuel, and we suspect that the entire contents will begin moving once it has gathered enough resources. The problem is that we believe it will destroy the world when it generates enough energy to move on. When it continues, it will likely end us as a species. I don’t know what will happen inside, but the way Tony spoke, it sounded a lot like it would not be a gentle change.”
Dave paused, gathering his thoughts as he stepped forward again. His feet brought him into the middle of the council’s ring of chairs and couches. “Both of our worlds are on the brink of collapse. There are seven billion people on the outside who will die if we don’t find a way to turn the core off. A team of skilled people were supposed to be the ones first through the tunnel we had excavated, but there was an accident. It brought us through with no day to get back and no way to contact people on the outside. I’m not sure that the rest of our group will be able to make their way here.”
“How many of you are there?” a young man asked.
“There were two of us that came through; just Tony and me. Tony died yesterday. So, just me I guess.”
“What will happen to everyone inside the curtain when you turn off this ‘core’?”
“Presumably, the curtain falls. The barrier disappears, and both sides are safe.” Dave shrugged. “Tony was the brains. I just dig tunnels. It was his idea to find whatever is generating the field.”
“What makes you think that the curtain wants you to turn it off?” an older man asked.
“Sir?” Dave queried.
A woman from the corner clarified the question. “What if the curtain does not want you to interfere with the natural order of things?”
“Ma’am, assuming that your world is not destroyed when the Black begins moving, or the air you breathe becomes poisoned, or maybe the Heavies begin multiplying, they will crush everything. Once they spread, your way of life will come to an end.”
“Is that a threat?” a heavier-set man called out. “Threatening the council carries a penalty of death.”
Dave shook his head, raising his hands. “I’m not threatening you. I’m telling you what I know. What I have been told. I’m not a physicist or an astronaut. I don’t work for NASA, and I’ve never studied black holes or astrophysics.” He scratched the back of his head and began to pace. “I’m just an engineer. I build tunnels for a living. I’ve got a background in electrical engineering and a degree in geology. All I know is that our time; mine, yours, everyone inside and outside, is slowly ticking away. We need your help finding the centre of the dome... the curtain. If we can shut it off, we can save both of our peoples.”
The group nodded and discussed quietly while Dave stood there awkwardly.
Serif’s mother stood while the group broke out in discussions. The old woman grabbed her son’s elbow in an affectionate manner and guided him out. Serif beckoned with his arm for Dave to follow.
Dave looked around, wondering why they didn’t have more questions, but he felt silly standing in the middle of the circle. Unceremoniously, he followed.
They walked into a side room. It was panelled in ancient cherry wood and had held its age over the last hundred years of the curtain’s history. The walls appeared to once have held framed pictures, but they were long gone.
“They will need time,” Serif’s mother stated. “There are many aspects of the city that you do not understand right now. We are attempting to create peace between our part of the city and the other neighbourhoods. There was a time when there were no bridges across the plateaus; we put those up. We brokered peace with the gangs and tribes and have fostered an environment where people can safely come to do trade. It has taken most of my life to accomplish that. Things move slowly here. Change comes with time.”
“Tony told me that there wasn’t much time. He told me that the dome was going to start charging steadily. That means more heavies. It could happen inside a week or two. Each moment we spend debating this is a moment that we could be spending fixing it.”
“The situation is not that simple,” Serif said, raising his voice.
“It’s okay, Serif, he doesn’t know better.” She patted his arm.
“Mr. Thompson, you have to understand, part of the peace that we have brokered has cost hundreds of lives. The peace is with the queen. Her people use the ‘core’ as a ritual site. They pray to their gods there… it’s complicated.”
“It’s not complicated. Whatever is generating the field that is keeping us in here is going to, over the next week, destroy the Earth and your city. Everyone and everything that you and I both know and love will be dead. Full stop. Dead. Gone. Destroyed!” Dave was beginning to raise his voice.
Serif raised a hand to calm him, and he slapped it away. “You don’t get it. Everyone’s going to die. All of us. We need help now! Not later!”
Dave turned to the door and stormed back inside, intent on informing this group that he needed help. He needed to get to the core.
Striding across the open grou
nd, he looked at the crowd. They were talking and laughing as though he had never entered the room. Anger welled up in him, and he clenched his fists. He had been unsuccessful getting their attention the first time, but this time he would have to be clearer.
As he stepped toward them, he watched a young man calmly stand up and raise a pair of cylinders. “The queen will not allow her gods to be tarnished!” Strong but thin fingers tore open the tubes and shook them violently all over himself, spreading it around the cluster of people.
Dave could hear the screams from people exposed to the dust. He stopped, torn between rushing forward to help and fear of how he would react if the dust were to get on his skin again.
They gasped and writhed in pain as their last bit of self-control tried to rid themselves of the pain. He watched a man stagger away. The old man inhaled deeply in a shudder. A wash of ecstasy flowed over the man, and the pain slipped away, replaced by euphoria.
Dave felt a glint of envy as the memory of that feeling flooded him.
It wouldn’t be hard to just walk across the floor and touch the dust. The feeling of connection and peace would flood through him again…
A strong hand grabbed his wrist and yanked hard. Dave turned drunkenly. Genie jerked him back to reality, dragging him through the door.
Serif was already descending the steps with his mother and moving quickly through the crowd. Dave could see his machete was out, and the crowd parted like pigeons as the couple ran through them. Genie followed, letting go of Dave’s wrist.
Once across the street, they stopped and turned. Dave could see a few people stumble out, followed by the blissful madman who had started it all. Serif’s mother was silent, her hand to her mouth as she watched her friends consumed by the dust.
“What the hell just happened?” Dave turned to Serif.
Serif shook his head. “She has never broken the truce. Never inside the city. We agreed! Never in the city!”
“Who is he?” Serif asked. People around them screamed and ran as more people spilled out of the building.
The Black Page 12
