When Man Has Fallen Chapter 1: Remembrance Remembrance JAN. 7, 2014 Silas stared deep into the well, down, down into the darkness, reminiscing about the past few years. How it all went to hell. He pulled slowly on the rope, attempting to keep quiet. Leaning back a little, he tilted his head back, looking up at the night sky, choking slightly on the dust-filled air. He stared at the glistening stars and all their coldness as they sparkled and shone in the cold crystalline atmosphere, taunting him and his sorrows. He cursed them in return, silently asking them why they had brought this down upon humanity. He had once admired their frail light, as a young child, reaching for them, wondering what it was like out there, amongst the twinkling lights. But even now, as he begrudgingly admitted their beauty to himself, he remembered the night that the stars and their unmerciful cold had come to them. It was the year 2012 and everyone had been living in fear, waiting for that fateful day in December when the world was going to end. Silas had scoffed at the idea --then. In a way, he still justified himself, thinking everyone and all their theories were just a bunch of bullshit. Because they had been. Nobody had come close to predicting what occurred that fateful day, 2 years prior. He sighed, thinking to himself. �How could we have? They attacked our military bases within the first ten hours. Our world seats of power were the first to go. They knew us. They were ready. We were, are nothing compared to them. All our might, our coveted power, destroyed in a single day, reduced to nothing. We were dead from the start.' A small voice flashed through his mind in response to his thought. �We had over four thousand years of study on you. What do you expect? We knew your society inside and out. You broadcast the very fabric of your society into space where anyone can pick it up.� A twig snapped off to his left and he froze, his train of thought vanishing. He turned his head ever so slightly, keeping movement to a minimum, glaring out his peripheral vision the best he could. There was one off about fifty paces. From the angle where he stood, Silas was unable to determine what subspecies it was. From its size and posture, he was assuming it was a Snapper. Hunched over, fingertips grazing the frosty pavement, its oozing gray skin glistened in the moonlight. It stiffened suddenly, sniffing, drooling, its many eyes glowing soft yellow in the dark. Silas' eyes widened in anticipation of being seen, but it was for nothing, he was too well hidden in the dark and the wind was in front of him. He tried to reach out through the Hive Mind and touch it, sense what it was, what it was doing here. Nothing. He couldn't sense it, it had been cut off from the Hive Mind. He raised an eyebrow. Another Renegade? They were becoming more and more frequent lately. He sniffed, catching a scent. The scent burned his nostrils, indicating that it was indeed a Renegade. It turned, looking his way, breathing heavily. His guess had been correct. It was a Snapper. Standing at just over eight feet tall, it was a grotesque evolution of a human being, taken by Infection. Six yellow and purple eyes sat in two rows across the upper half of the face, wrapping around the head, which was split in half by a teeth filled maw, giving it it�s namesake. It was naked but for a few denim rags covering it�s lower extremities, and muscle bulged against the skin in a manner which any champion body builder would be proud to have. Silas kept quiet, not moving, resisting an urge to rush out and kill it with his bare hands. As his fingers flexed, the voice echoed in his head once more. �The enemy of my enemy is my friend, Silas. You�d do well to remember that. It may one day serve you well. You might disagree, but we�re not all monsters.� Gritting his teeth, he acknowledged the statement. Silas turned his attention back to the well, and continued to slowly pull on the rope, his thoughts turning again back to that fateful week. The last week of humanity. DEC. 15, 2012 *It starts with One thing; I don't know why* Linkin Park -- In the End Silas strolled down the Miami street, avoiding passerby�s, his hair blowing slightly in the cool breeze, Linkin Park blasting in his ears from his new I-Pod Infinity. He stopped in front of a store featuring the newest of the Sony Entertainment Surround Sound Laser Systems. Had to hand it to the big corporations. At least they didn't get caught up in all the end of the world shit, they kept right on churning out their products. It was all just another Y2K in Silas� opinion. He�d told people they were stupid then, too. Glancing downward, he whistled at the price tag. On second thought, maybe they did. 150 Ameros. A bit outside his price range, and more than just a little outrageous. He only had 6 Euros in his pocket. If nothing else, they were certainly trying get a profit out of all this. He chuckled. �But who buys stuff at the end of the world?� he asked himself. A moment passed before he answered his own question, looking down at his new I-Pod. �People like me, of course.� Looking around the display, a man on television caught his eye. Seemed to be another raving idiot at some pulpit or another. Seen plenty of those recently. Religious Pastors calling people to congregation, to repentance. The military telling people to remain calm; or they would have to enforce martial law within the week. Silas himself was religious, but he still didn't buy into the Mayan calendar crap, and found it kind of insulting that many people belonging too 'Christian' Religions would worry about something from a people whose highest god ate his denizens. Leaning into the glass, he took a closer look at the television. It actually seemed to be something from NASA rather than a religious leader. Still, just some raving idiot at a pulpit. Silas caught the words; 'Coming our way,' and 'Within the week.' ' Yeah, yeah, whatever,' Silas thought to himself. He walked away from the glass paned store front, avoiding a beggar coming out of the alley, eyes squinted, hands outstretched. Disgusting filth, why should he do anything for him? He hoped he would never end up like that. He strolled on, head moving in time to the music singing softly under his breath. *And even though I tried, it all fell apart What it meant to me will eventually be A memory of a time when I tried so hard; and got so far But in the end it doesn't even matter I had to fall to lose it all But in the end it doesn't even matter.* Linkin Park -- In the End JAN. 7. 2014 Silas pulled the bucket from the well, icy water spilling slightly onto his hands. He untied the rope from it, set it down carefully, next to another several buckets, and a few feet from six similar buckets. Picking up a curious looking notched stick that was leaning up against the well; he stood between the buckets, sliding the pole underneath the bucket handles, which fit neatly into the notches on the stick. Heaving silently in the dark, Silas lifted the stick above his head and lowered it gently down onto his shoulders. It was lighter than usual, which was bad, as it meant the well was running dry, but it was also a bit of a relief for Silas. The trek home was far from easy. Not only did he have to avoid the treacherously icy footing and pitfalls that led down into the old sewer system from the nearby abandoned city, but he also had to avoid the nocturnal creatures which mankind had come to fear and loathe. As one of groups most seasoned members, he had been chosen as a gatherer; one who kept the people provided for. There were other reasons besides, but those were known only to a very select few. If anyone else were to find out, a riot was sure to be started, and Silas murdered, along with the heads of the town. He trudged slowly through the thin, dirty layer of snow, wending his way back to camp. His heightened senses lay the landscape bare before him, and he hopped easily from rock to rock following the worn path he knew by heart, which he could have followed even without the heightened strength and senses. As he approached the towering walls of the camp, his mind turned back to the day it all began. DEC 21, 2012 11: 32 a.m. Silas awoke with a grin firmly upon his face, glancing over at the clock. It was nearly noon. His grin widened. Nearly 12 hours into the end of the world, and the world was still here. Let the �I told you so�s� begin. He bounded down his dorm stairs after breakfast, proclaiming, "OH SAVE ME GOD, FOR THE END IS HERE!" Several people huddled in the corner of the room crossed themselves in fear, and several others who shared Silas' mindset snickered. He went over to the latter group, and exchanged high fives. He chitchatted for awhile, then got up and wandered outside. It was a beautiful day out with blue skies and few clouds. The temperature was around 70 degrees, with low humidity for the day. A perfect day in Miami. He'd been standing there for some time admiring the view when his best friend Luke, who was currently stressing out over the date, came up behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. "Uh --hey man, you might wanna come check out the TV. dude." Silas waved his hand in dismiss. "What interest could a T.V. possibly hold for me on a day like this? I'm gonna go hit the surf man." Luke pleaded with him. His voice was shaky and distraught. "Dude seriously, come look. Please." "Fine..." Silas got up, finally looking at Luke, whom was pale and trembling, sweat beads popping out all over his face. "Luke, dude, chill. You look like shit man.� Luke looked Silas in the eyes, and said very calmly: "Silas, we are all going to die." Those words sent a chill through Silas' soul that day, even as he scoffed and patted his friend on the back; a chill that had never quite left him, and one that had reverberated through his core as he leaned over the same friend later that evening, his face twisted in agony. JAN. 7, 2014 As he approached the massive concrete and log walls of the fort, Silas touched the small short range transmitter in his ear, activating his com-link with the guards. "Alpha. Piotous. Caesar. Lycan. Pi." He really didn�t see the point of the passcode, as an Infected would still know the code, being able to look through their hosts memories. It was foolish, but he supposed that it helped the people sleep easier at night somehow. For not wanting to die, a lot of the people overlooked things that could prove deadly to them, or implemented safety measures that didn�t do anything to keep them safe at all. The gate slowly came down in front of him, crossing the moat. The gate itself was composed of old billboards, welded together and covered in massive amounts of duct tape. A weak point for a gate in the midst of nigh impenetrable walls. Silas huffed, thinking to himself. 'How far we have fallen... And how stupid we have become.' He crossed the gate quickly, passing through the green energy field just inside the city wall. A tingle washed over him and stung at the base of his skull, causing him to scowl in discomfort. Glancing at a nearby guard, he gave a nod. The guard nodded back, then turned to the wall and switched off the alarm that was getting ready to sound. It�s automatic function had been disabled specifically for Silas, and had been instead given a five second kill switch. Turning his eyes back to look ahead, he felt sorry for the man standing there, who was probably going against everything in his moral code by hitting that switch. It was probably more in the man�s moral fiber to whip out his pistol and put a few bullets in Silas�s skull. Still, Silas couldn�t blame the man. The people had been exposed to such horrors committed by the Infected, the Mayans, or Zombies, as they were sometimes called; that they were not willing to ever witness them again, while it was in their power. Letting one of those creatures in was punishable by death, even if a mistake. He laughed silently to himself. Punishable by death, for everyone else, at least. He was rather hard to kill. He doubted even a few bullets to the skull would kill him. He wasn�t in a rush to try it out any time soon though, so he usually just did as he was told. He reflected on the name Zombie. Growing up, a Zombie had been a fictional, slow moving, dead creature that could only be killed if its nervous system were destroyed. Today's fell creatures were far worse, and while easier to physically kill, they too were, in the same sense, far harder to kill. In the movies, zombies were pale, rotting heaps of flesh, easy to look at as dead, inconsequential, even if a threat. Easy to laugh at, you were gleeful when the main character made a kill --The living demons of this world were not as such. For a time, a few days at least, they were your friends. Your family. They could talk to you. Appeal to you. Bring up old memories of being together, only to kill you as soon as you let your guard down, or worse, make you one of them. Only the merciless in this world could survive. The only reason the early stages were referred to as a Zombie was their secondary transmission of the Mayan Infection� Biting. Once someone was bitten, once they were infected, they were done for. They could fight it for a few days, but soon the call of The Hive Mind would drive them insane, and they would do what it wanted them to do. Follow it to their doom. To the Drillers, to full infection, for which the only cure was death. If you were not given over to the Drillers immediately, then you became a true Zombie, a mindless slave, doing only the bidding of the Hive Mind. A Drone; half-human half-alien, despised by both. No cure but death... Silas himself had killed his mother and younger sister with tears in his eyes. A single bullet to the heart for each. Most any other method, except for a bullet to the head, they healed too quickly, within minutes. Too far along, the hosts developed a second heart, and some people speculated even a third; considering the size to which some of the creatures grew. So shooting them in the heart wasn't much of a safe bet at all. In most cases, it usually rang true to be better safe than sorry, but Silas just hadn�t been able to bring himself to shoot his family members in the head. He closed his eyes momentarily, remembering the incident; and a single tear leaked out from the corner of one of them, trailing down his face. He remembered his younger sister's eyes growing wide and her lips mouthing the words; �thank you,� as she hit the floor and slipped away. Remembered clawing open her head and ripping the vile creature from the base of her skull as it tried to escape, smashing it on the ground over and over again until it was nothing more than a greenish blue and black ooze. The voice entered his head once more. It just wouldn�t shut up lately. It had been dormant for about two months after their last power struggle, sulking, but now it seemed determined to make friends. Silas found it irritating to no end. He had absolutely no interest in being friends with the damn thing. They�d made their agreements, there needed to be no further discussion between them. �If it counts for anything� Though I do not understand the love for family --I see how painful it is for you in your mind. And I am sorry for your loss, Silas.� He ignored it, focusing on his own thoughts. He�d heard speculations of late, from various scientists around the world and their reports, speaking of being able to possibly surgically remove the alien parasite from the brain of the host, if they could capture the infected person in time. It was a well known fact that the parasite did not kill off the host, rather suppressing them inside their own mind, taking control of motor functions and major thought processes. Silas had no hope for this, and had said as such, telling them that removing the parasite from the brain almost always kills the host. He knew all too intimately the details of such a death. The Parasite would use it's tentacles to shred the host brain. Crouching down, he set down the buckets, then straightened up with a slight stretch and walked towards the sleep shelter, feeling sorry for himself for a moment. These people treated him like dirt, even though they regarded him as immensely dangerous. The only authority he had was as a commander, all soldiers had to obey him without question, unless directed otherwise by the town council. He had no respect beyond that, and as he had been made out by the council to be a pariah in the town, with them saying that he was psychotic and dangerous, and that his only merit was battle command. They also told the people that this was the reason that he was sent out daily on supply forages, that he was able to keep himself safe, and that he was a danger to the town. In truth, the people who knew what he was just didn't want him in town, and could care less if he was dangerous to the people or not. They made him sleep with the homeless when he needed shelter, and dine at the soup kitchen on the remains of the dead when he was hungry. Humans had long since turned to cannibalism as a way to fight decreasing food stores. They served the flesh of the deceased to the people who could not afford their own food. He was given nothing but a wide berth. All Silas owned was in a single backpack hidden away in a small hole in the inner wall that lined the city. He sighed, thinking to himself. �But what else can I do? Go over to the other side?� His eternal companion answered his unspoken question, with an odd note of sympathy in it�s voice. �Sadly, Silas, I do not think that is an option� They would kill you. You would be a loose cannon, and the High Priests do not tolerate such individuals. Hence the Renegades. They have to cut themselves off from the Hive so as to be individuals.� Silas hung his head as he replied. �Yeah. I know man.� DECEMBER 21, 2012, 11: 54 a.m. Silas hurriedly followed Luke inside, where a group had gathered around the dorm television. It appeared to be a news station. The image behind the anchorman appeared to be some sort of massive floating object, floating over the ocean. Instinctively, Silas threw a glance out the window at the water. Nothing. He looked back, and it had gone to a new scene, with a reporter in a city in turmoil. "NEWS! at Noon on FOX." "Hello, this is Nathan Coswell reporting from Tampa Bay, Florida! As you can see, there is widespread panic through the city ooof! sorry chuck, people are everywhere! Just got a little side swiped! But as you see here, there seems to be some sort of stationary object floating over the water, about a mile or so offshore! It has been here about 45 minutes, and we have seen absolutely no activity from the object since its sudden appearance!" "Any idea what it is, Nathan?" "No idea Chuck. If you look closely, this thing seems really to be a giant rock! It's irregular in shape, dark and mottled looking, full of craters really. Wasn't NASA saying something about space anomalies earlier this week Chuck?" "Why, yes, I think so Nathan, but I can't quite remember the particulars --Well, folks, this is simply astounding! You say it�s just floating Nathan?" "Well, that's the way it appears Chuck --just a giant floating rock." "Hold on Nathan. We've --" "Ok." "We've just received report of one over, Miami! D.C.! Phoenix! Niagara! Salt Lake City! Minsk! We have one over Poland, Hollywood, Melbourne Australia, oh my god, they�re coming in too fast for me to name! What the hell is going on here?" "I don't mean to cast a bad light on this, but considering the day, this seems a bit coincidental don't you think?" The reporter stood, peering at the small screen provided him. "Somewhat, yes --did it just move?" The reporter on scene turned around and stared for a moment as the rock trembled in mid air. "I think so sir!" And with those weak words signaling the end of humanity; the rocks fell from the sky, and the world would never be the same. JAN. 8 2014 Silas awoke, bleary eyed. He stood up shakily; dusting his old and worn clothing off, trying to at least look somewhat like he cared about his appearance. He stretched his arms, reaching for the ceiling, then retched at the smell emanating from his underarms. Deodorant had disappeared probably six months or so ago. It was something nobody ever really got used to. He really needed a shower. �Or you could just change. You know that it does the same thing. And it�s so much more enjoyable, don�t you think?� The thought entering his mind was tempting, but it was something he knew he couldn�t succumb too. The damn thing must be lonely. He gave in and replied to it. �Only when I need too. We�ve gone over this.� A warmth emanated through him at his words, probably simply because he'd actually replied, and Silas momentarily felt like a jerk. Shaking the feeling off, he stumbled to the washbasin, careful to avoid others sleeping in their bags and cots. Splashing water carefully on his face, he attempted to wash away some of the bleariness and dirt, to no avail. Maybe he would have to go for a run and transformation. Do some hunting. He was sick of eating fried finger fingers, as they humorously called them down at the soup kitchen. He turned and picked his way through the room to the door, walked down the hall, and then proceeded to fall down the stairs. He picked himself up at the bottom, cursing and wincing. The guards at the doorway rushed in and several people ran out of the sleeping room in a panic, weapons raised, faces alarmed, and then, realizing what had occurred began to laugh uproariously at him. "Yeah, go fuck yourselves," he muttered, then stomped out the door, pushing between them, which only made them all laugh harder. Really, he couldn't be angry at them for laughing. He was glad he could make them do so. There just wasn't much around for humor these days� Suddenly, red lights, and an ear splitting screech sounded throughout the camp. �ATTACK. WE�RE UNDER ATTACK. WE HAVE MULTIPLE MOVEMENT COMING FROM OUTSIDE THE GATE. ALL SOLDIERS, READY YOUR WEAPONS, ALL CIVILIANS ARM YOURSELVES AND STAY INDOORS.� He flung himself in the direction of the gate. A man ran past, yelling, eyes crazed. �THEY�RE HERE! THEY�RE FUCKING HERE!� Silas' eyes flashed with a glimmer of gold and he grinned with pointed teeth. �Finally.� ������ ������
Copyright © 2010 Preston K Bullard |