by David Staves
He felt the power of the light. He could feel the buildings, the machines, excitedly awaiting his command.
But he could not dismiss the sense that the loathsome beast had somehow tracked him into his underground haven.
Was it watching him, even now, from a darkened corner in the room?
He sensed it wanted more than his pitiful flesh. If it got him, it would feast on his life-force, his spirit.
Where was the gun? It was shoved into the back of his waistband.
Then something nudged his consciousness. He recognized this subtle, yet firm nudge as his new friend Jack. Jack’s nudging was an urgent redirection to use a new sense. The spectrum of his new vision slowly shifted into the infrared. What had looked to him as a sickly forest, a rotten place of nightmares decaying and dying, suddenly blossomed into a writhing landscape, teeming with obscene life.
A maliciousness related to the vile beast infested the forest, germinated inside of every living being. It waited. He didn’t know what it was waiting for, but he knew it waited.
The forest, this whole world, was being drained of life. An intelligent parasite fed. Every day it grew stronger. Soon it would gestate, replacing everything.
Ezra picked out the landmarks that punctuated his frenetic journey across The Waste: the swamp, the creek, the crumbling house, the crooked road, the church on the hill. He observed his route, following it to the mill.
Chapel Creek Mill was crawling with things: glistening teeth gnashed, chomping claws clamped, and spikes clicked and scraped.
The boy who had fled in fear and desperation was emotionless.
His human heart, filled by sentient light, vowed not to be consumed.
Though the demons wanted his soul, the light gave him a peace that he recognized from the church on the hill. He recalled the cross, defeated by a God made flesh. Death was already vanquished. It was already conquered. Nothing could take that from him, not even the approaching hoard!
Their pursuit was futile regardless of what happened today!
A new weapon blossomed in his chest.
Hope!
If he died, this demon king would have no dominion!
He had no intention of dying, however.
He had to fight. Ezra watched in wonder as colossal machines designed for clearing lumber, or fighting forest fires, or repairing roadways and bridges, rose up and smashed into the swarm of monsters. Subterranean hatches released more robots, some of them were flying! Giant treads smashed. Gargantuan blades sliced.
Ezra watched as the demon army broke ranks. One of the machines had brandished a flame thrower. The monsters ignited, flames spread from one to the other. They tried to run, but it was too late.
His consciousness coalesced, returning to his human self. As he did, his eyes opened to the sight of the slumbering mannequins awakening. They were wonderfully animated. They really were robots!
The light was keeping him tied into the system. He was still bathed in the light. It augmented his senses, even his thoughts. He knew things that he should not know.
Every detail about every aspect of this facility, including its electronic inhabitants, was at his fingertips. All he had to do was think about it, and it came to him as if from memory.
The orphans stuck out like a sore thumb. Their designs were, for the most part, subtly different, more decorative. Jack had referred to them as orphans because they had become detached from their own bases, networks, or specific functions.
Ezra knew that Jack’s core, his brain, was somewhere deep underground, placed there as a precaution against some kind of nuclear conflict.
Had there been a nuclear war? Yes. Because of his interface, Ezra knew that there had been bombing long ago. He also knew that the damage done at that time had nothing to do with the cause of Earth’s sickness. This malady was foreign. Humanity had not destroyed itself.
Ezra brought his attention back to the orphans. Orphans like me. He chased the thought away, telling himself there was still hope of reunion with his family.
Through his interface, Ezra could think about many different things at once. The knowledge he had about the robots that were connected to this facility did not extend to the orphans. He knew almost nothing about them, was unable to interface with them. They were not part of Jack’s network.
Extinction.
Genocide.
These words flashed into Ezra's mind, and he knew he was the only human left on Earth.
Why?
Was humanity extinct?
No.
They flourished in the stars.
But what of Earth?
These monsters were responsible for destroying everything he loved. And they would not stop here!
They wanted every world touched by humanity.
They would kill every man, woman, and child in existence.
His teeth gritted in sudden passion. He was furious. It will pay, he thought.
His sight began to shift again, as he watched through his human eyes, somehow seeing different spectrums of light that were physically impossible. His interface with Jack was powerful.
It had pursued him all the way here! It may have hungered for his immortal soul, but it was after more. It wanted his knowledge. It wanted his memories. It wanted to know his origin so it could hunt down the rest of his tribe, it wanted to murder! Even worse, he realized, it wanted to use him before it killed him. It had a special purpose set aside just for him.
He realized now, this monster was responsible for all of it, starting with the landslide. It murdered his family!
He didn’t know how he knew, but he was sure.
New data blossomed inside his twelve-year-old mind.
Epiphany! Evil could not handle light, could not handle goodness, and could not handle truth.
Because of this, he knew, the light would destroy it!
He thought about how quickly the beasts on the surface had burned.
He must lure it into the light!
He gave the order, the light began to dim. But if he was wrong… it would consume him!
He thought of the cross, banishing the thought of defeat. He must be brave.
Enough hiding.
Enough running.
Time to make a stand!
If he had any hope of finding his family, he had to make a stand, here and now, wherever here and now was…
He imagined the beast, hunkered in the shadows, ancient and arrogant.
As the protective light withdrew, he worked his courage to call out into the darkness: “If you’re here, come and get me!” His voice sounded tiny and high pitched. The light swirled and shuddered, it vibrated with his voice.
“Here I am bastard! Coward! Come out! Why are you afraid of a little boy?” in saying these words, he realized it was afraid! Somehow it was afraid of him!
“C’mon, ASSHOLE! You wanted me! I’m right here! YOU are the orphan! I am not an orphan! I will NEVER be an orphan! You have no power now! I WIN!” he heard his words, the passion in his voice. He didn’t know where the words came from, but he knew as he spoke them, though playground taunts they might be, they were words of truth.
For a while, nothing happened. The robots stood silently. Were they waiting too? Ezra was suspended in the light, light of wisdom and power. His feet weren’t even touching the floor.
The machine mind called. Ezra stopped himself from becoming lost in the data that was there for the taking. He resisted the powerful pull. His mind was plugged into a magnificent machine, but he must stay alert. His body was what told him to be aware. His guts churned, ready for the fight. He was rooted here and now.
He remembered the kid hit by a car last summer. He was crossing the street while looking at his smart phone. The machine, Jack, was way more consuming than a smart phone!
It waited for his guard to drop.
It was here. Despite what the machines said, despite what logic said, it was here!
He never felt it with him during his journey to this
place.
He had sensed its pursuit, but never sensed that it had caught up with him, not until now.
An inky shadow at the far end of the room drew closer.
He watched the robots: benevolent machines. Why were they so protective of him?
Jack said he was ‘the son.’ What the heck did that mean?
The robots were the only children of men remaining in this shadow world. His presence here had woken them from a long sleep. Somehow he heard their kindly voices as each awoke.
“A boy!” one of the rangers said.
“He’s come!” a small chrome-covered orphan said.
“So has the creature.” a female voice spoke. Was it familiar?
“We will help him!” another ranger-bot proclaimed.
“How?” a third ranger-bot asked.
“Kill it,” that voice, the voice of a human woman, the tone of a machine.
He was straining to see into the shadows. His eyes could not adjust.
The orphans kept catching his attention because unlike the ranger-bots, they had not moved other than to stand up. Their designs were more decorative, more personable, than the ranger-bots.
One of them especially caught Ezra’s eye. This was one of the few females. Its distinct exaggerated, curved, and sharp features made it a she.
Her movements were distinctly female. She was not moving much, but Ezra read an air of superiority. She wasn’t clean, but Ezra could not mistake what looked like gems and etched decorations all over her body, especially her human looking breasts. Her face was smeared with grime, but he could still see the features of the face outlined in the muck, so familiar.
Beware the overlaps, the man had warned him.
He could hear the voice of the female orphan again. Orphans like me… he thought. She was yelling: “Get it! Stop it!”
The other orphans leapt between him and the monster. The female robot slammed herself into the putrid flesh of the demon.
Clarity!
Realization!
Her voice reminded him of his mother! It had the same tone, same cadence. It had the mechanical, synthesized sound of a machine, but it was her!
For a moment, he was transported to his bedroom when he was eight. He wanted to scream, to yell out: “Mom, I found you! Run Mom, before it gets you! Run! Run!”
But his mouth, his throat, his vocal cords would not obey.
“I want my light off Mom. I know a way to keep bad dreams away.” He had been frightened by a nightmare monster in the night. She had offered to leave the lights on, but he did not want to be a baby.
His mother looked at him with a knowing expression.
Dad was the one who taught him the prayers, the visualizations to cope with the darkness.
His mom was the one who showed him how to wield the strength of his spirit. She endowed him with the will to fight. He saw his stuffed animals as giant guardians posted around his bed. But still he was afraid, and she knew it, despite his brave front.
“Well then, sit up. I have one more thing to help you.” She was removing her necklace and placing it around his neck. Her cross! She never parted with it.
“Take this Ezra. Next time you see a monster of any kind, hold onto it and call the heavenly light. Let it wrap you in safety. No monster can withstand this armor,” her smile was so comforting.
"But Dad gave that to you!" he said, not wanting to take something so precious.
"He's given me a lot more than just this one, kiddo. It's yours now," her eyes were shining in a way that told him she believed in him. She believed he was strong. He could fight the darkness and win.
This memory replayed in Ezra’s mind as he locked eyes with the monster. He wasn’t going to flinch. He reached for a chain around his neck, expecting there to be none. He had lost everything, after all. There’s no way it could have been with him through his horrific journey.
To his amazement, the cross was still there! It had been right here, with him, the whole time. His fingers traced the outline under his shirt.
He knew what to do. He conveyed his plan to Jack, wordlessly, through their sublime link. Jack resisted.
“I am the administrator, you must do what I ask!” Ezra was ashamed. He spoke to a friend, in a commanding way, like he was talking to a dog. Jack was worthy of better, it was a machine entity both ancient and wise. Ezra was just a kid.
The light on the dais where he stood began fading all the way off.
He watched in disbelief as the monster from the swamp, from the woods, emerged from a darkened corner. It tore through the robots to get to him. It ripped their limbs off of their mechanical bodies, smashed and crushed the heads that housed their intelligence.
Ezra caught the smell of burning machines. Most of them were smoldering in pieces on the ground.
The metallic woman and one ranger-bot were the only two robots who were keeping the creature back. When the light turned off, part of Ezra’s desperate plan, the ranger-bot stopped struggling with the beast.
The metallic female became the brunt of the creature’s efforts. Its claws punctured metal. Its teeth sunk into her arm, and with a screeching tug pulled it from its socket. The robot wrapped its legs around the creature’s torso in an attempt to stop it.
The monster paused relishing the destruction, and smiled at Ezra, a smile of wicked grimy teeth glistened like thick black needles.
He watched as it put a large hand on the last robot’s head and shoved violently. Her mouth opened as a twisting snap bent her frame in an unnatural configuration. The busted mannequin was discarded at the beast’s feet.
It stopped, surveying the scene with uncanny intelligence.
And still, the robots did not relent. They were only slowing it down, not stopping it. Their smashed forms were rising back up, grabbing, clawing at the gnarly thing.
Ezra realized it was time.
Its skin was ink, midnight, and slick. It was unsuccessfully trying to elude the robots.
If it could hide so efficiently, why had it shown itself in the swamp, in the woods, on the trail?
Ezra thought he knew the answer: It enjoyed the chase. It savored his fear. It had communicated with him in its way, so it could feed on his emotion!
Now that the confrontation was at hand he sensed great fear from the creature!
Its eyes never left Ezra’s. Ezra found himself staring into the intelligent, cunning, and ancient eyes of his stalker. It shook off the remnants of crushed robots.
The vile spine-like fingers reached, carefully probing the space that was formerly filled with light.
The old machines of this Chapel Creek Mill mentally confirmed that the thing was with him. He had to concentrate with every fiber, to stop from igniting the light again.
It would get him. This monster would slurp his essence and savor it!
No.
He resisted the urge to flee, to protect himself.
He clung to the cross under the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
He forgot about the blaster that had been tucked into the waistband of his sweatpants.
"God, help me! Lord, help!" it was a whispered plea.
Suddenly he felt the dark being climbing onto the small dais. It wasn’t the same size as the giant that attacked the craft. Somehow he knew it was the same individual that started the pursuit. He sensed it had split from itself and had crawled through the vents to infiltrate his final refuge.
It was emboldened by hunger unsatiated for millennia. Ezra heard a slithering whispering voice, the voice of a fallen angel, “Ah, you call for your god, but it has forgotten you.”
The dark entity was ancient. “I have you now!” as it gingerly climbed onto the dais, he witnessed a pulsing physicality full of stretched muscles and twisting tendons.
Ezra was gasping for breath.
Stench worse than the swamp.
Worse than the sewer.
Death.
The thing curled toward his thin frame, seeking odious embrace.
The demon's limbs flexed, cruel form, sleek, wicked, malicious, hunter, consumer of souls.
“Ezra...” it gurgled his name.
There is power in the knowledge of a name.
How does it know my name? He thought.
The thing’s voice rasped the syllables through a glistening maw full of rows and rows of jagged teeth.
Anguish ripped at the fabric of his soul.
Ezra heard a distinct guttural word rattle in the throat of the creature.
It spoke now, in a voice that bellowed with what sounded like multiple voice boxes. “You are mine. MINE!” its claws reached for his flank.
Why hadn’t it grabbed him already?
Why hadn’t it taken him?
Somehow, he knew, it was afraid of him.
I am a ghost! Ezra thought. Already dead!
At this moment, the light ignited. Ezra was overcome with a sense of safety and security in the awareness that he was more than a body. His spirit was alive. The creature had no dominion over his eternal soul. It could destroy his body, and he would live on.
Once again, he found himself observing the events from the perspective of the machine entity Jack. Was the machine somehow connected to something other than his brain? Did the device know of his spirit? Yes, he thought. It must know.
His tiny, dirt-smeared body, defied gravity, lifted into the light. He was relaxed. His face held an expression of tranquility. The creature’s claws, sparkling sharpness, dripping with venom, reached desperately.
There was a frenzy of swiping and clutching; greedy, desperate for a gory embrace.
It should have had him! It was so fast, strong, and cunning. It was the predator, he was the prey. His flesh, weak and vulnerable, was poised to be destroyed.
But, the machine assured him through their mental connection that he was not going to die.
He was going to survive.
He was going to grow up.
He was going to live.
His purpose would not go unfulfilled.
But I am dead now… Ezra watched his floating form, so small, so peaceful.
He watched the creature flinch, its skin was cracking. A network of viscous veins began to bulge: the demon in distress. Its body started flaking, its flesh turned into ash. It smoldered in flameless heat, and like the rest of the body, it crumbled away. Staring eyes disintegrated.
