Authors: Ben Bequer
I dug at the tiles, tearing them off, and reaching the roofing paper and tar. I tossed that aside as well, feeling blood seeping from my hands as nails and splinters dug into my fingers.
Looking up to the surface, I was tempted to rush up to get a quick breath, but if I was running out of air, then Apogee was certainly doing worse, so I continued tearing the roof along her leg.
I got to the wooden beams and ripped them aside, feeling a finger pop in a break. A spasm of pain travelled all along my arm and I flinched. Apogee was fading, running out of air, so I bit back the agonizing feeling in my hand and went back to work, cleaving the roof apart.
Finally her foot was visible, pinned down by a two by four. With my broken hand, I planted a strong punch that broke the beam, freeing her. I grabbed Apogee at the waist, her head lolling back, and small bubbles escaping her unconscious mouth.
Where were the others? Why hadn’t they come back to help? But there was no time to think, to kick and kick, feeling the lactic acid burning through my legs, and the last bits of air fading from my lungs, as I powered upwards.
When we broke the surface, I saw the others gathered along the shoreline, chatting amiably as if nothing had happened. Apogee was unconscious or dead, and I swam as fast as I could to the shoreline.
“Help me!” I shouted, but no one moved, all intent on a good joke from Cool Hand.
I brought her to the waterline and dragged her body up the shore, raising her arms and doing the Heimlich maneuver to clear her lungs of oxygen.
“Damn it, help!”
But they did nothing.
I turned her face up, her lifeless eyes looking back at me.
“Oh, God. Please!” I said trying to breathe life back into her. I knew CPR well, and went to work on her. She was dead only a minute, so bringing her back was possible.
I could do it.
“Cool,” I roared to him. “Shut the fuck up and help me with the breaths.”
He barely noticed me, mid-joke, putting his finger up in the “give me a second” move.
“Dr. Walsh!” I pleaded, but she drew a cigarette from her coat, now completely dry and smiling as she struggled with her lighter. Mr. Haha came over, now himself, and used his plasma weapon to light her cigarette.
“Why thank you kindly,” she said.
CPR was easier and much more effective with two people doing it. One performing thirty compressions, then the second providing one breath of air by closing the nostrils of the afflicted person and forcing air into their lungs via mouth to mouth.
I don’t know how long I was at it, but she wasn’t responding. I pumped and pumped, then moved to her head and performed the mouth to mouth.
Over and over, calling for help when I could, over and over, being ignored.
My hands ached from the breaks and tears, my lungs were pained from lack of oxygen, and my eyes flowed tears that I had to blink away.
“Come on, Apogee!” I screamed, but after several minutes I was growing more and more tired. My compressions were light, and I was coughing in exhaustion.
I checked her pulse and felt nothing.
She was dead.
Crouched over her, I couldn’t stop the tears flowing down my face, pattering onto her lifeless cheeks.
The others were gone, leaving me and her alone. I looked at her beautiful face and wept, reaching over to close her eyes and leaving behind a smear of my tears and blood.
“I’m sorry,” I whimpered, sitting beside her and hearing only the whispering breeze.
I held her hand, still warm but cooling.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated, watching the insects flying across the waterline, hunting for a meal.
“You did alright,” said a voice behind me, and I turned to see the greenish light, the ghost coming down the shoreline to me.
It was Influx.
She had a deathly pall, a greenish pale feeling that told me all I needed to know.
I shook my head bitterly, “I didn’t do anything.”
“You saved her, Dale,” she said pointing up the hill.
I followed her gesture and there was Apogee, weeping herself, knelt over a body and the others stood around consoling her.
“What?”
Apogee’s body was no longer beside me, and I jumped to my feet, rushing over to her, but I could go no closer. Something kept me away, something I couldn’t overcome.
“Did you do this?” I asked Influx.
She shook her head, “You did.”
I looked down at the body Apogee was kneeling beside and saw it was me. I was dead, drowned instead of her.
“I don’t understand,” I asked Influx, still trying to go forward.
“You can’t go there anymore,” she said, and understanding her, I stepped back, now given freedom of movement.
“What now?” I asked, and she smiled and pointed to a lighted tunnel off to the distance.
I shook my head.
“Don’t make the same mistake I did, Dale. Go.”
“I don’t want to leave her,” I admitted.
“You have this one chance,” Influx said, putting her strong hand on my shoulder. “Don’t waste it.”
“What if I already did? What if I ruined everything and I can’t fix it?”
She smiled and touched my face.
“It’s not too late, Hon.”
I took a step towards the light but hesitated and Influx was gone. Apogee and the others faded as well.
It was me in the shoreline.
Then I felt a boot in my side, and coming out of my dream, I saw one of the huge armored guards standing over me, shouting in some strange language.
They had come for me.
* * *
The stilt-walker towered over me, standing on thin legs that seemed too ungainly to hold up something of that size. He barked something outside and in came the wizard, though whether it was the same one, or one exactly like it, I couldn’t tell.
He knelt beside me, studying my wounds and began to sing, his voice muffled by the heavy helm. To his incantation, he added some bizarre hand motions, summoning floating twinkles of glowing magic that surrounded him and followed his every command. With that, the wizard carried me aloft with his magic. He reveled in his power, able to contain me while none other could have.
The wizard dropped me on the floor between him and the walker things, and poked me with his staff, motioning for me to stand and walk. My leg was a bloody mass, but wasn’t about to show weakness, so I gritted my teeth and managed to lumber after him. The two stilt-walkers followed us, their heavy feet thundering with every step and their lances ready for any trouble.
We came through a large chamber where these enormous, forty foot-tall, sloth-like beasts, with heavy leather plates on their foreheads and backs licked the walls, extruding some sort of secretion from their mouths that added to the construction. There were many of them, working unguided and uninterrupted, making new spires and breaking down old, abandoned ones. The lumbering beasts ignored us as we passed by, content in their tasks.
Ahead was a tall section that the wizard’s magic revealed to be a huge door. He spun his staff high in the air, reciting some ancient magic and the door split apart from the wall. It opened up to gloomy high tunnel that led to a circular chamber, well-lit from above.
The wizard shoved me forward with his magic along the tunnel towards the light. Each step was an agony, and I was leaving a trickle trail of blood behind me. I could sense the frustration of the guards, but I couldn’t limp any faster.
Like the rest of the citadel, the tunnel was rather dark, and in comparison to the round chamber, that I now surmised to be an arena, the heavy light stung at my eyes. Accustomed as I was to being in the dark for what had probably been a few days, the brightly lit arena blinded me.
I stumbled forward, hearing a mass-like throng of creatures poised around us, watching the events, but they were only a blur beyond the brutal light that shone upon me.
The arena was small, only a hundred feet or so in diameter, with only one entrance from which I had come in. Behind me, the stilt-walkers took up posts on either side of the hallway leading out, and the mage stood between them in a proud dramatic pose.
The walls were about ten feet high, and above were circling of spectators, though the place was far from filled to capacity. I guess I might have been to blame for that.
Around were masses of Mist Army soldiers, what looked like the survivors of the great fight the day before. They were rowdy and loud, slamming their spears and axes and shields at the prospect of my impending death; a ravenous crowd, throwing things my way, beating on each other, threatening to spill over and come charge at me. But something kept the mob at bay.
Perhaps it was their fear of a small group of aliens, poised in a guarded gallery. They were a varied bunch; a few were humanoids wearing armor, another was a floating translucent bag of gas which dangled tentacles, like a land-borne jelly fish. One of the aliens was tiny, like a cross between a hedgehog and an anemone with the claws of a crab. It stood atop a mechanical construct. Another was a huge set of armor, headless, with a large bowed fish tank where the heart would be, and inside were a small group of fish that reminded me of tiny Volitan lionfish.
Standing in the middle of them was Varshantas, holding his axe up high to revel in the cheers of his gathered army. He was the victor, the last remaining lord of the Mist Army. He stood in the before an enormous crystal throne and his strange alien voice thundered through the chamber, presenting me like the Caesars had paraded vanquished barbarian chieftains before the Roman crowds.
As my vision improved, I could see more of the aliens milling around Varshantas, varied and strange. But one figure stood out in the midst of them. Tall and magnificent in long exquisite robes which were regal, delicate and far too revealing, stood Apogee, still alive with her pride undiminished.
She was alive!
I almost rushed her way, but something about her face told me not to. In case I was too damned stupid to get it, she shook her head slowly, checking my overwhelming urge.
I hadn’t failed her yet, if I could figure a way to get her out of here safely. I felt a welling of emotion and fought back the tears of happiness at the corners of my eyes. I was elated, alive, and suddenly quite motivated. My wounds were forgotten, and I strode forward towards the gallery. Apogee smiling at me, as one of the aliens, a floating bubble with eyes, much like the one Zundergrub had used to speak to the villagers, left the gallery and flew down to me.
“Great warrior,” it said, using my own voice, and my own accent. “Varshantas, Overlord of the Mist Army is impressed with your great prowess in battle, despite your utter defeat. He presents you to the Lightbringers with all humility.”
“Listen, Jack,” I raged. “You’re going to let go of that woman there, and show us to a ship, and let us go, or so help me God, I’m going to commit genocide on this fucking place, and bring it down to its foundations.”
The bubble creature ignored me, turning its attention upward, as the light source descended. Those at attendance were now prostrate in reverence, including the raucous mass in the stands. As the light came closer it diminished in brightness so we would not be blinded, consumed by its luminosity. Even so, I had to cover my eyes.
The brilliance did more than blind me, it burned, mere proximity was more than any human could bear. Its power was effortless and in I was helpless in its radiance.
When it first spoke, it was like all of humanity screaming at once, tripping over each other and senseless. But there was more, like a pandemonium of billions of sounds, from clangs to screeches to electronic squelches to every sound ever heard anywhere in the universe. It was too much to endure, much less understand.
I covered my ears, but nothing could protect me. I felt dizzy, like the floor was dancing beneath me, and collapsed to my knees. My screams went unheard even by my ears, and it seemed that the creature was content to destroy me with its presence. Its power radiated outward and I was too close, caught in the corona of the star and soon I would fade out from existence. The Lightbringer saw me dying, writhing in anguish, and was neither joyful nor unhappy. Nor was it apathetic. It was interested in me, in how I was reacting.
I knew I was dying, and I had to do something about it.
“Stop it, you fucker!” I roared, hoping it would reward my boldness, but instead it came closer, and the effect of its power upon me was geometric. The light was everything; the cacophony overwhelmed my ability to even think. I thought I had faded, but it was impossible to elude its power, even in unconsciousness.
It was then that something happened, something I could do nothing to prevent. The Lightbringer knew me, it opened up my mind, delving greedily and in those harsh few seconds, it subjugated me. My every thought, dream and desire was made available to it, as was my every experience, and the full range of my knowledge, including everything I had ever forgotten. It was a flood, too fast for me to grasp or comprehend, other than to understand that everything that made up who and what I was, it now knew.
When it was satisfied of its omniscience over me, it reduced the illumination, diminished the rapturous disharmony, and because it willed it so, I was to live.