In A Universe Without Stars 1: Skyeater (14 page)

“I…Wish
I could. Accept this power now or don’t accept it at all,” Jahum says.

He
can save her, but with the invasion only an hour away Wilker doesn’t know if he
can make it, this is his only chance.

“Okay,”
Wilker says. Jahum raises his hand.

“Ring.”

Wilker
looks at his hand and pulls off his wedding ring. He hands it to Jahum. Jahum
closes his hand.

“Your
power will be different than the other chosen. Theirs will be of strength and
might, yours, yours will be of ultimate understanding. All things that once
confused you will make sense and the inner workings of things you simply
glimpse at will be understood.”

“An
understanding of everything? Wouldn’t that make me go mad?”

“No.
It will be simple to you. Because something so simple can also be complex. A
orange for instance as a whole is made up from millions of things, from the
skin to the flesh of the seeds, from the seeds made up of millions of cells
which consist of membranes, proteins, cytoplasm, nucleuses, lipids, to the very
atoms that it consist of, which even in its simplest parts are made from
electrons, protons and neutrons and quarks and leptons that make them up.
Billions of them make up a single cell with the millions that make up an
orange.”

“I
already know what an orange is made of, I know of the atoms and the cells and
what they’re made out of,” Wilker says.

“Do
you? Do you think of them when you see the orange, do you simply know what
makes it without thinking, knowing how to deconstruct it and construct it back
without a thought?” Jahum asks. Wilker doesn’t answer. He doesn’t understand.

“So
complex and yet all the matter is the same, dust from the stars, all energy and
matter from one and the same, they just exist in different forms. The orange is
like you and I. Different but the same at the same time. Everything simple is
complex and everything complex is simple. That’s the power of understanding and
everything in-between. That will be your power. You will become as powerful as
your comrades but this is your path,” Jahum says.

Ultimate
understanding. Isabel is going to love that. Jahum opens his hand. The ring
looks the same and he didn’t see Jahum do anything.

“Take
it and put it on,” he says.

Wilker
takes it and slides it on. He feels a sudden surge power through him. Coursing
through his veins, all his aches and sores melt away. His left wrist suddenly
feels stronger. He snaps off the cast and looks at his arm. His wrist is
completely healed.

He
already feels ten times stronger than he did before and this is the lowest tier
of power. Jahum holds out his hand, offering a blue crystal.

“With
this you can transfer your power over to her,” Jahum says. Wilker grabs it.

“At
this point in time your world government knows of the impending threat. I will
pick you and Isabel up when you transfer the power. Make haste because they are
coming soon.”

“Who?
Who is coming?” Wilker asks after all this time. Jahum never told him who was
attacking.

“The
Eliite.”

…

The
Vanquishes wheels skirt across the ground as Wilker
flatlines
the car. London peeks over the horizon as he speeds along the road.

“Come
on faster!” Wilker yells.

He
passes 193 Km/h or 120 mph. The roads are empty on this wet brisk morning. He’s
easily able to keep the car under control. Classic British engineering. He
looks at his clock.

Seven
o’clock.

The
sky flashes the whitest of whites as if God himself has lit the heavens. Wilker
looks through his windshield. Twenty gigantic ships appear in the sky passing
through the white like whales erupting from a wave less ocean.

The
Eliite. Faire class ships.

Are
they coming from another dimension? Or from somewhere in outer space? Wilker’s
pondering goes unanswered as a loud screech pierces the air. He slams on the
brakes. The dark red ships are shaped like shooting stars from a child’s book.

Five
points, four of them wings of the same size. The four of them angle back on a
forty-five degree angle. It’s blood red color contrasting against the white
sky. Looking closer it seems the wings aren’t actually connected but are held
together only inches from the hull by some invisible force. The back two wings
are made up of two parts each, like two halves of a triangle. Each part hovers
only an inch from each other held by another invisible force. Each connection
controlling the pitch and yaw as the ships move.

The
screeching stops. The ships start to move towards London. Echoes erupt from the
city as artillery lights up the sky. Yellow streaks head up towards the
Eliites, courtesy of the Majesty’s army.

It
seems like they knew they were coming. The Eliites light up as they are hit,
shining a bright yellow as the rounds disappear into nothing. The ships don’t
even falter, the speed and inertia fade into the light.

The
faires return fire, red lasers beam out of them and rips into London. Tracing
the ground, through the AA guns on the rooftops, explosions tear through
wherever the beams land. Jet’s boom over Wilker and head for the Eliites.
Wilker snaps out of his trance. He has to hurry before it’s too late.

The
Vanquishes hot tires squeal on the cobblestone sidewalk. Wilker swerves past
people; his reflexes have greatly improved. The car is a part of him, like
another limb. The people are just small negligible obstacles he can easily
avoid.

They’re
running away from where he’s going. The sky blackens with smoke. Wilker slides
the car onto the street and turns onto the West Minister Bridge.

“Shit!”
Wilker slams on the brakes. His car skids to a halt.

He
only came inches from smashing into the car in front of him. He lays on the
horn.

“Come
on you dolt!” he yells. He doesn’t have time for this shit. He steps out of the
car. The bridge is in grid lock, bumper to bumper traffic.

Nobody
is beeping or yelling at each other. It’s out of their power Wilker realizes.
They all just stand outside their cars and stare up into the sky. Wilker looks
up; the Eliites float in the sky without a care in the world, not moving;
waiting for something.

A
single light breaks through the clouds. Wilker looks up. The others stare up
with him. This is the perfect time to run. But if that’s what he thinks it is, it
won’t matter how far he gets. The Eliites spark to life. They all join into a
circle and point up.

The
light quickly approaches. It’s close enough to get a good look. A metal pointed
cylinder. A nuke. Wilker’s heart drops. It’s only been twenty minutes since the
invasion began. Why in the bloody hell have they unleashed such a last resort
so soon? Wilker looks at his hands. He doubts Jahum’s powers can save him.

One
of the Eliites flies towards the bomb.

“What
is it doing?” the man next to Wilker asks. The Eliites flies right into the
bomb. Wilker shields his eyes as the bomb explodes out as the heat evaporates
the clouds.

The
people on the bridge below fall as the shockwave hits them and every building
in a five-mile radius. With his eyes slammed shut Wilker is the only one to
hear the windows shattering and the screams.

People’s
screams echo out into the air.

Why
can he hear still them? The blast should’ve killed him by now.

He
opens his eyes and looks around. Everyone on the bridge is on the ground, blood
gushing from their ears but alive. All the windows in the surrounding windows
are blown out. He raises his hands to his ears.

Nothing.
No blood.

Jahum.

Because
of him he is stronger. That scares him. He looks back up.

“What?”

A
giant ball of heat hovers where the bomb went off. About 100 feet in diameter.
Suddenly it shudders, and shrinks smaller and smaller until the Eliite ship is
outlined in light.

It
explodes out. The clear blue sky is suddenly filled with billowy clouds as if
the bleak London clouds never burnt away. Wilker looks back on the ground at
everyone else.

He
doesn’t know why, but he feels suddenly calm, sane, and…accepting in a way he
hasn’t felt in a long time. The others must feel it too, one of them starts to
cry as they stare up. They all stare up at the marvel above.

None
of them run. Fools. Wilker chuckles at himself. He’s a fool too because he
stares at the clouds.

It
starts to snow over London, it coats the charred remains of the buildings
around the bridge. Flakes benevolently float down onto the bridge and the
people around him. Wilker looks around. This doesn’t feel right.

The
man beside him opens up his hand to catch a flake.

“Wait!
Don’t!” Wilker yells. The man catches one as more flakes fall on him. He
screams out.

He
flays his arms around wildly, coating it with more ‘snow’. The flakes stick
onto his hand and eats into his skin, through the meat and right through the
bone. It’s corrosive. His hand melts off his arm like an ice cube in a hot
skillet. Twirling around as the flakes engulf him.

His
horrific screaming is the worst thing Wilker’s heard, apart from the sizzling
of his skin. Wilker thinks fast, it’s too late for the man but not himself. He
sprints and maneuvers through the flakes and skids under a truck only two cars
in front of him.

He
moved just in time. The down-pour becomes intense. Wails erupt around him as if
the doors of hell has just opened. Footsteps run toward him.

A
woman falls down beside the truck. She
writhes
,
screaming. She was beautiful woman. Tears well up in her eyes as she screams
amidst the torrent coming down. Now the flakes devour her face.

“Give
me your hand!!” Wilker yells as he reached out for her. She reaches for him.
Her arm bloodied and eaten down to the bone. Wilker grabs and pulls. She’s way
lighter than he thought, maybe it’s his new found strength.

Her
arm snaps and pulls off in the middle. The corrosion already made it through.
The snow eats through her at a just too slow pace.

After
it’s done, all that’s left of her is a puddle of guts and mess. Wilker vomits
on the other side, his body painfully dry heaves from his empty belly.

Her
remains, it still sizzles. It starts to melt through the tarmac.

He
was too distracted to notice everything around him is melting. It goes through
everything, just at a slower pace. Outside the truck, cars and concrete
disintegrate. It goes so slow they all seem like they’re sweating. It goes
through human flesh faster.

He’s
still a mile from the hospital.

“Shit,
think Wilker.” He doesn’t have much time, the hospital could be destroyed
already. He tries to push back that thought. He thinks back to his meeting with
Jahum.

He
said Wilker would be enhanced. Stronger. Able to do the impossible. If he’s
supposed to be able to fight these things, then maybe just maybe…

He
stretched out his hand from under the truck. A flake gently lands on his hand.
It sticks. He yelps as it singes him. He pulls his hand back under. The flake
falls off his hand as a snowflake would normally do if he had ice cold hands.

His
hand stops hurting, he looks at it. The flake ate into his hand but only as if
he grabbed a hot piece of metal, a second degree burn. He can run it, they
don’t stick to him. As soon as he gets the idea to run, his hand seamlessly
heals in a matter of seconds. He clutches his hand. It’s as if nothing
happened. 

He
rolls out from under the truck and gets to his feet. He surveys his area. The
city is coated in a sheet of ‘snow’ and larges piles of red from melted bodies,
like an abnormal winter day.

A
smell smacks him across his face, he reels back. The stench of old corpses and
hot sulfur rocks the air and sizzles in his nostrils. The snow floats down
gently. The Eliites continue their siege, lasers light up the sky as more cries
yell out below. He dashes down the street.

Flakes
brushing him. The small tingles of irritation don’t stop him. They won’t stop
him from saving Isabel.

…

He
sees it in the distance: the hospital, standing in smoking misplaced glory. A gaping
hole is in its side. Wilker halts, his bloodied jacket flopping in the wind.

He
doesn’t know where her room is from the outside. He thinks it’s close to the
opening. Wilker sprints forward.

…

Isabel’s
room is silent, the only thing that stirs is the wind blowing on Isabel’s cream
and baby blue sheets as Wilker burst through the door. He pauses and surveys
the room. There is no outside wall, just a giant hole letting in a rotten
smell, to his left is a part of what caused it.