Elysium (22 page)

“See that? Those are ships that will sail in space someday. When they are complete, I want you to go on one of them. It will take you to a better place.”

Antoine stared, fascinated.

“I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life buried alive in the bowels of the Earth. Antoine, you should go to the stars.”

The group walked in the eerie quiet as if they were the only ones left alive in the whole world. In the night, anyone who remained on the surface would be hiding somewhere. Rumors said that things roamed the former streets that were best avoided.

“Stay sharp,” Jolly whispered.

The guards soundlessly lifted their weapons and scanned the mist, searching for any movement, listening for sounds.

They approached the site of the grave. Upon it, a marble statue of a veiled woman looked down with maternal eyes. An oil lamp carved into her hand burned stone flames, and stalks of wheat and barley were etched at her feet. The marble image overshadowed everything. Its gaze went to far-off places. Brought here from gardens overseas, it was said that this statue had once been painted — sienna, burnt umber, olive, ochre. Its alabaster appearance came from years of exposure to the elements.

Antoine laid down on the grave a crayon picture of his mother that he made in school. He had only seen her in photos, so it was based on them. Her eyes were large with black irises surrounded in white, her skin carefully shaded in lines of tan. Adrian went to his knees and brushed away sticks and crisp, aged leaves with his bare hands. He whispered words that no one could hear and placed a kiss on his fingers, then put his fingers to the cold white stone.

The others waited uncomfortably in the mist. Stephen backed away and began to prepare the device for updating the atmospheric database. He removed a small rocket from the bag he carried. He set it upright on a welcome-mat-sized launching pad and ignited its engines. Within moments the small rocket
whooshed
into the air, higher and higher until it disappeared from sight.

“What da hell are ya
doing
?” Jolly said.

“I’m updating the atmospheric database,” Stephen replied.

“No, you’re tellin’ every freak out here that we’re here. What’s fucking wrong with you?”

“Wha —” Stephen began to say when the rocket above burst into flame, flowering overhead into a multitude of directions, momentarily lighting the entire sky like a giant spider’s web set ablaze.

“Fuck … me. …” Jolly said.

No one else spoke in the moments that followed. Maybe it was the shock. Maybe it was the amazement. It was probably both.

The darkness returned. The silence returned. All was still.

“I’m so sorry,” Stephen breathlessly said, rubbing his hair and straightening his glasses. “I don’t understand. This never happened in the simulations I performed. This never —”

“Shh!” Jolly put his finger to his mouth.

A shift in the wind. A distant heartbeat. The sound of crashing trash cans. Something was out there. Something was coming.

“Everyone, let’s move!” Jolly shouted.

“No,” Adrian said. “I’m not ready.”

“Then
get
ready. We gotta go!”

One of the guards picked up Antoine and bolted with the others. Adrian had no choice but to follow as they ran into the mist. Something was behind them. Many things, by the sounds of it.

Lungs burned. Hot breath parted the mist. Even with the fear, exhaustion set in after running so long. The things were behind them. Now they seemed before them, obscured by the thickened mist. The men pointed their guns into the fog.

“Easy. Shoot only on my mark,” Jolly said. “They’re probably just hungry folks out looking for some food. No need for bloodshed today. Just back away.”

But the things didn’t back away. They breathed in unison. Heartbeats. Voices low and guttural.

One of them stepped out of the fog. It walked like a man, but it was not a man. It had antlers that twisted up like a crown. Planar structures moved over its surface, flickering and sometimes cracking out of existence so that the eye could not quite capture what it was perceiving. The creature was more shadow than form, shifting and changing from moment to moment, making it seem multi-limbed and writhing through dimensional space. It stomped slowly toward the circle and pushed its head forward into Jolly’s face.

“What da fuck are
you
?” Jolly whispered. “What do you want from us?”

The answer came like a fly buzzing in the ear. They all heard it. Words whispered close to the mind as if the wind spoke.

…
hu-man
…
ver-min
…
die
…
soon
…

“Fuck you!”

Bullets flew. The heat. The smoke. The smell.
Bdddbb, bdddd, bddddd! Bdddbb, bdddd, bddddd! Bdddbb, bdddd, bddddd!
Adrian ducked. The night was pitch black with repeating bursts of light. He moved to cover his son with his body.

“Antoine! Antoine!”

Antoine was gone.

A flash of green …

*** SYSTEM FAILURE ***

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

** BREAK **

>>

>> restart

BRIDGE PROCESS: RESTARTED

>>

>>

>> whois /current

Humans 12 0000-00-00 00:00

Roaches 8 0000-00-00 00:00

>> finger roaches

Name: roaches

Origin: unknown

Description:

An alien species called the Krestge

that entered Earth space and released

the dust that poisoned the atmosphere.

.
.
.

They wore crimson cloth and copper-colored armor and mechanical wings that extended high off their backs and shined in the moonlight. Wings designed by Adrian so they could protect themselves in the land above, made of metal that they mined from deep within the earth. They had found this metal as they dug deeper and deeper to build the underground city. Metal he used to construct these wings so they could fly and cut.

Wings opened and slashed, slicing in every direction. Feathers of metal shot like knives, stabbing at alien flesh. The thick fog scrambled the senses. A blade grazed the skin of his arm. His wing flicked upward, slashing the creature in front of him. It gurgled and fell to the earth.

The others fighting alongside them — other humans who seemed to come from nowhere — wielded knives and sticks and other crude weapons. Several of the creatures flew up into the trees. The transparent skin between their limbs allowed them to take to the air like birds. Adrian and his men flew after them, cutting them down. The night filled with sounds of sliced flesh thudding against the earth. And then silence.

Adrian and the others raised their wings to beat back the mist so they could see. Many of those who had attacked them lay dead on the ground.

“Antoine! Antoine!”

“Dad!” Antoine came running into his arms.

Adrian held him tight.

Adrian fell to his knees to check the boy’s condition. He moved his head from side to side, checked his neck and arms, turned him around to examine his back. He was fine. The child stood in the fog, curious and afraid.

Cloud smoke rose from their noses and mouths. The stench of rotting flesh, urine, blood, and feces reeked. The men adjusted their headwraps to shield their faces from the wind and the dust and the smell.

A dog with glowing green eyes clunk-clunked toward them, sniffing. Its front paws and part of its muzzle were made of metal.

“That’s Roscoe. Don’t worry, he’s harmless if you’re human,” a pale man said as he walked out of the shadow, wiping blood off a large knife on his pant leg. “We got him from one of the roaches and retrained him.” As he passed a fallen alien, he spat on it. “Fuckin’ roach.”

The haggard men emerged from the shadows, so ashen their skins seemed to glow through the dirt and blood that smeared them.

“I didn’t know the aliens were still coming down to the surface,” Jolly said.

“We’ve been seeing them walking around lately. Mostly at night. Roaches like the dark.”

Adrian kicked at a fallen alien and turned it over. It was not what he had expected. It was bipedal and had an extra set of limbs. What seemed to be its face dislodged and rolled away. It was a face mask, probably to protect it from the effects of the dust. Its real face was thin and noseless and shadow. It had slits that maybe were its eyes.

“What brings you out on a night like this?” the pale man said.

“We were visiting a grave.”

The pale ones laughed.

“If that ain’t the dumbest reason I ever heard for risking your life. Dead is dead. Nobody gives a damn after you’re gone.”

“She was this child’s mother. And we will remember her.”

“Whatever.”

The moon sat red and half in shadow on the horizon. It was big and thick as if one could reach up and pluck it directly out of the sky. Huge tree trunks lined the path, dead and hollow. They whistled as a breeze blew through them with a winter’s chill.

“Thank you for helping us —”

“You’re from the underground.”

Silence.

“No use in denying it,” the pale man said. “You look too healthy to be from the surface. Not to mention your metal gear.” He reached out and touched Adrian’s wing. “We want you to get us in.”

Adrian looked at them closely.

“How many of you have the sickness?” Adrian said.

“All of us, even me.” The pale man pulled down his scarf to expose a few scales running up and down his neck.

“I’m sorry then.”

“You’re going to take us to the underground.”

“If you have the sickness you can’t be admitted.”

“Who are you to decide? Who the fuck do you think you are? Fuckin’ filthy niggers! Who are you to tell us where we can go?”

And there it was. A memory of something Adrian had long forgotten. A class system that had died in the dust. Adrian looked around at his people and saw a truth that no one had spoken out loud. The dust had been discriminating. Those with more melanin had been spared its harshest effects. Their skin had protected them. It had protected him and it protected their son. He was so grateful that in this one way Antoine favored him. But soon, they too would succumb.

“You wanna say that again?” Jolly said, and the other guards arched their wings. The metal-on-metal feathers
shtyingged
as they rubbed against each other. The strangers edged closer and closer. Adrian moved Antoine behind him. In the silence were the sounds of heartbeats.
Thump, thump, thump
. Roaches. They could hear them. The roaches were coming.

“Run!” someone screamed.

And they all scattered. Some running here. Some running there. Some flying away.

Adrian extended his metal wings, grabbed his son, and soared with Antoine in his arms into the night.

16.

Sparks of fireflies flickered as the sky faded in shades of blue. It was the magic hour. The time when the sun sat on the belly of the earth and the light diffused, painting the surfaces of broken cement gold, pink, and terracotta. The air was still and soundless. The smallest movements made by even an ant seemed to be done with a hush. Adrian dared not shift the position of his wings. The ringing tones of the metal might wake his son, and it had taken him a long time to get the boy to sleep.

Maybe it had been foolish to take him to see his mother’s grave. Maybe it was the selfish act of a grieving father. Adrian thought on these things while holding his son gently on a ledge in the crevice in the remains of a tall stone building. The smell on the air spoke of a coming storm. Later on it would rain. They must find shelter soon. For now, he would let Antoine sleep. His sweet, sweet boy.

As Adrian stretched out his wings, the metal feathers
shinged
like tiny bells caught in the breeze. The wind took them and they alighted to the air. Antoine opened his eyes.

“Are we going home now, Dad?”

“We will a bit later,” his father said.

They soared into the clouds, descending occasionally to examine a spot below that seemed appealing. Rain began to fall. The drops of water sprinkled across his metal feathers and soaked his hair. Adrian did his best to cover his son while keeping the water out of his eyes. It was increasingly difficult to see, and his grip on Antoine felt like it was slipping, so he hurried to find a place to land.