Working title: Assaulted by the light

I'm creating this solely as a discovery story. I have no plan for it, no idea who the characters in it are or what they are trying to accomplish. I just thought I'd write out some things and see where they grew.

--

There was a click and abruptly the light assaulted him. The aggressive advance quickly overcame the meager defenses provided by his closed eyelids. Dazed, he opened his eyes. The light was so bright all he could see through his squinted eyes was light. A wave of disorienting dizziness rolled over him and he couldn't tell if he was spinning. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it barely helped. His head rolled and vomit exploded from his mouth. The lights went out

Sore and aching, exhausted the man tried to raise his hand to his mouth but he couldn’t move it. He didn’t think it wasn’t tied or restrained, he just could no longer make his limbs respond to his commands. He opened his eyes again, after blinking out the spots in his vision his eyes adjusted to the dim light that filled the room.

He looked down at his arms. They sat limply in lap. He couldn’t move either one, not even twitch a finger. This scared him more than the thought of being tied up. His mind panicked, his eyes darting across the room, taking in everything, but seeing nothing. He began panting hoarsely and the nausea and dizziness returned. He threw up again and everything went dark.

After some time he came to. He couldn’t tell if it had been seconds or hours. His face felt crusty and his throat burned with an acidic rawness.

The same dim light filled the room. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was but in this light he couldn’t make out details from more than a few feet away. He saw what looked like canisters and tubes lining the wall to his right, maybe 6 meters away his mind automatically estimated. Steam rose to his left, obscuring even more detail. It looked as if the room he was in extended out to his left, large rectangular shapes drifted in and out of hazy view as the steam rose, perhaps shipping containers, or large crates, he thought to himself.

Directly in front of him, slightly overhead, was large square with a small orange glowing circle at the center. He could still feel heat radiating from it. He knew it must be the light that had ruined his day earlier by awakening him to this nightmare. Further down there appeared to be a door shrouded in darkness. He had no idea if it were open or closed.

Sensing no immediate threat he turned to inspect himself. Through trial and error he learned that he could move his head and neck, but beyond that had no control over his body. It occurred to him however that although he couldn’t control his body, he still had feeling. He could feel the cool wetness in his lap and chest where his vomit and worse had pooled. With his hands he could feel the coarse material of what looked like a service technician’s coverall uniform.

His head pounded and even the dim light caused sensitivity. His body felt battered but he couldn’t see or feel any significant damage to his body. He just couldn’t move.

A clicking on the floor caught his attention and he looked up. Walking towards him, looking almost like a gray specter was a man. Each step echoed in the chamber as he came nearer, his features slowly resolved themselves in the dim light. Just as his face was about to come clear he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

The light powered on again with an audible hum of electricity. Bright light flooded out overtaking the man on chair. He closed his eyes and twisted his head to shield himself from the light. He was better able to withstand the light this time, squeezing his eyes shut and his head twisted down and away.

“Who are you, what do you want with me?” he asked through clenched jaw.

“Funny, I could ask the same of you,”  the smooth and measured reply.

Call for Posts

The time has come for our creative juices to start flowing again. But this time I thought we'd do things a little bit different and more like a real writing group.

Each of us will post our own work (you've each been added as authors) and you can login and post your stuff. Then we can help each other point out whats working and what isn't. This way over the weeks we can build a longer story, or work on several shorter projects.

Maybe every other time we'll throw out a writing prompt for a short story or scene to keep our creative juices flowing.

Deadlines are the 2nd and 4th Mondays of the month at 1pm (this next Monday!).

To help get some juices going, I'll throw out an option prompt:
Give us a story/scene set in the modern day and time where it is discovered there are fantasy elements in the world. For example we discover that Iran's nuclear program isn't about building a bomb, but accessing magic. Also, remember this should be fantasy, not science fiction.

Also, if you want to contribute but I haven't invited you to be an author, or I did to the wrong email, leave a comment or email me.

Starting up the band again!

I've decided to start up the band again, round up the usual suspects and get back in the groove. All those who are willing to participate, we would love to have you.

I'm thinking this time around that those who want to be a part of the group will be allowed to post their own stories, rather than doing it anonymously like we had in the past, and maybe we can make this a little more like a real writing group than what it has been.

What say you? Anyone willing to participate?

Hiatus

I've had to go on a hiatus here as I have been experiencing the 2nd busiest summer of my life.

In the meantime, David Farland is setting up something very exciting for writers, you should check it out here, http://www.amberdine.com/forum/ it is basically an online writing group.

I think I may allow members of this site to start posting their stories themselves at their leisure for now too, my business shouldn't hold other people up.

Thank you and goodnight.

Call for Scene #4

It's time for a new scene. I want to give us plenty of time to get this done, so I'm planning on posting on the last day of June.

For the scene this time, in honor of the 4th of July, write something patriotic.

Good luck, invite your friends to read/participate!

Elemental Source

The shuttle bounced and jostled as it forced its way through the exterior of the Jordonian Protective Sphere. Completely transparent, the JPS could set its own atmospheric buoyancy thus allowing it to seemingly float in the air at any given altitude. Not only would a JPS keep anyone without the properly encrypted transmitters out it also prevented radio, microwave, and sound waves from passing through to either the inside or the outside. Radiation was also effectively stopped, making a JPS an ideal solution for sensitive lab work.

            The transport shuttle came to a gentle, yet efficient landing in the hanger of Mirien Labs. The side panel extended outwards a few inches before rolling back to expose the interior of the shuttle. Caldon Livingstone stepped out of the transport, into the fading light of the approaching night. There was no one there to greet him.

            Caldon glanced around the hanger. The stark light of the overhead lights cast his shadow in multiple directions. On the nearest wall was a small control room, it was empty, the lights out, he could see his reflection in the glass. He was short man, with a deceptively slight build; he made no attempt to cover his receding hairline, though he did keep his remaining hair cropped short.

Caldon wondered why he was here, he had a reputation as one of the premiere researches in Kag’on, a researcher who didn’t only sit back and wait for results, but dug in voraciously with both hands and made things happen. Caldon had been specifically requested for this research station after the last assistant, Darfur, had been returned to Earth, a sudden illness. The man had alternated between being perfectly fine and instants later raving about unbearable heat and cold, yet his temperature remained steady. Not exactly an inspiring condition.

An assistants position wasn’t normally a position a man like Caldon would take on, but he had received some rather effective pressure, or help as it had been explained to him, in making sure he made the right decision. But this was a special case, and despite being strong armed, the facts of the case were as fascinating as they were scarce. The details of the case were so classified that even someone with Caldon’s level of clearance wasn’t able to get any but the most superficial of detail on the project, which itself was an enigma. Why would you have a more than top secret project, and yet display it in a JPS just a few miles above Mal’Doran, the second largest city in Kag’on?

“Well, so much for the welcoming party,” Caldon muttered. “Computer, display project UCS Summary.”

A wall of text displayed, in his minds eye a few feet in front of him and scrolled rapidly, faster than the conscious mind could comprehend. He once again regretted that technology hadn’t advanced to a point yet where information could be loaded directly into ones mind, but this unconscious overview would give him a base to build his knowledge of the project on.

The project summary finished and his vision was no longer obstructed. It had finally been revealed to him who the Project Lead was on this project, Kieran Seanaw. He didn’t know her personally, but her reputation preceeded her as a driven, brilliant woman. It fit right into what he knew about her that she would be too involved in her research to meet him as he arrived.

Caldon left the hanger, walking toward the laboratory. As he walked the short distance he began visoptically reading more on project Elemental Source, as it was being called. What he read was at once chilling and amazing.

Walking into the lab, he finally discovered his hostess. She was seated before a large, stainless-steel table. The table held 4 large containers; the first contained a few rocks of various sizes, the second contained pure water, the third held nothing at all, and in the fourth sat a small burner, its flame turned on. Her concentration was so intent on the empty container she didn’t notice the door as it nearly silently shushed into place.

“Dr. Seanaw, hello. Am I interrupting?” asked Caldon.

Her concentration broke along with a slight hissing noise as her hair billowed briefly behind her, she turned,  “Ahh, Dr. Caldon Livingstone. I’m glad you made it.”

“Me too, tell me about what you’ve got going on here.”

“A new world, Doctor.”

“What do you mean,” Caldon asked?

“Tell me how we, we as a society, have become what we have? How did we make the world we know live in?” she asked in a clipped voice.

“I’m not sure how exactly to answer that.”

“Power! Electricity!” she cut it, “our greatest achievements have come since we’ve learned to most efficiently access power when working at the atomic level. Combining and to a lesser extent splitting atoms gave us access to the kinds of power we needed to create and operate the tools to achieve greatness, but where do we go when that power is no longer enough? What if we no longer need power?” She stood up and walked over to a potted plant, some kind of broad leaf fern that seemed oddly out of place in the otherwise stainless steel room.

“No longer need power? What are your proposing? Going back to living in cave huts?”

“No!” she shouted, “But what if instead of spending weeks building a new dwelling, using massive amounts of deuterium-tritium fuel for the reactors we force the rock in the ground to shape itself to the structure we desire? Water will run to the building because we command it. Heating and cooling will be done by our control over the very air!”

“That’s impossible! No one can control the earth, the air, and the water like that,” Caldon shook his head, looking away.

“Oh, but I can,” she smiled, “we can.” Her eyes searching his face as if looking for something deeper. Finally, convinced she said, “come, take a look at this.” She walked back to the table in front of the containers.

Caldon joined her at the table, eyes doubtful.

“See this container,” she said, pointing to the third container.

“Yes, it’s empty,” he responded.

“No, it isn’t,” she said her eyes focusing on a spot just above the container.

At first her breath came in quick forced breaths and nothing happened. Kieran closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, when she reopened her eyes they were still firmly focused on the same spot, but her entire demeanor had changed.

Caldon shook his head and opened his mouth to put a stop to this nonsense when his eye caught a faint reflection on a slightly shimmering ball that had not been there moments before. He reached out his hand, mesmerized by the barest hint of a ball floating in the air above the container. His finger touched it, it felt like an invisible wall, there was no texture, no give, it was smooth as ice, and hard as steel.

He opened his mouth about to speak but Kieran raised a hand, forestalling him. With intense concentration she kept one eye on the ball and turned her focus to the fire. After a moment the thinnest tendril of flame emerged from the flame and slithered like a snake towards the ball. As it neared the ball, it circled around the ball, leaving tiny lines of light around the ball, when it reached the very top of the sphere it plunged itself in through the top and instantly the line of fire disappeared and the sphere began to glow with an inner light. Kieran released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and wiped her forehead.

“Air is easy; fire,” she began, “is the most difficult for me to work with.”

The sphere of air and fire sat hovering above the table glowing pleasantly.

“How… What…” Caldon paused, not sure what to say. His eyes darted back and forth between Kieran and the object floating just beyond reach.

“This, my friend,” she said with a triumphant smile, “is our work. This is why I needed you here and not that weak minded fool, well never mind.”

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“In this case, I imagine that I am a vessel that the very air must travel through, as I gain a sense of the air it is like I am flowing with it, we flow past several possibilities of how the air can form itself and when I reach the one I want, I focus on that and the air bends to my will. All of this happens very rapidly you understand? As long as I am focusing on it, I can hold the filaments of the air and fire as I want them, but when I stop they dissipate on their own,” she turned from her globe of light and faced Caldon, the globe slowly lost its shape and the light dimmed.

***

The research truly was incredible. It took several months for Caldon to come up to speed, first reading and viewing everything Kieran had logged and then following up on Darfur’s research. Darfur spoke of attempting to guide along the flows of earth, air, fire and water like Kieran could do but reported uncomfortable stabbing pains where the conduits of elements lashed out and struck him repeatedly. It wasn’t until he reached out in his minds eye and gripped the conduits that he could manage them. That was the method Caldon would take from the beginning.

It took months for the elements to open up before Caldon, but in time and with a great deal of effort they did. He found, in time that he could reach out even to the tiniest particles of water in the air and bring them together, he could force them to cool to freezing in an instant or burst into a steam with a touch of fire at exactly the right time and place. His abilities quickly surpassed even those of Dr. Kieran.

“There’s still something missing,” Dr. Kieran banged her fists on the table.

“I feel it too, Kieran.” they had discussed this topic endlessly.

“The four elements are like pieces of one great whole, like threads bound together to make a rope. But it is clear that there is at least another set of elements, another rope if you will, that binds around our four elements, but how do we access it?” Caldon paced up and down the lab room.

“I have an idea!” he shouted, “Kieran, gather the conduits in your mind eye, hold them out in a straight line before you.”

“Okay, what are you going to do?” she asked, gathering her thoughts. Light began to shimmer and ripple in the air above her.

“I will wrap my elements around yours, and where there is a blank spot, it must be what we’re missing.” Hands resting on the table, he leaned in, concentrating directly he forced conduits of elemental energy to wrap itself tightly around Kieran’s rod of dancing light.

Yes, he could see now with his mind atomically small areas of space between the two conduits of elemental power, almost invisible in the dancing light that made up the physical elements, this was smooth and almost unassuming. He forced his elements tighter.

“It hurts, Caldon!” Kieran cried, “Stop it!”

“Almost got it,” he muttered, examining the thin area of power. He forced his mind into it.

Suddenly it was so clear, softly glowing light emerged, pulsing from every living thing to pool into this element, bright light from a potted plant, lesser light from a paper sitting on the table before them. He turned to look at Kieran, she was hunched over in pain, barely in white light emanated from her. Instead the conduit was pulsated erratically with blacks and red. He immediately released his hold on his physical elements unraveling them from around hers. Her light brightened considerably the pulsating more regularly.

He realized looking around him, that everything was giving off alternating pulses of white and red color, the red must be another weave in this rope. He reached out to the potted plant sitting on the counter, he could only put the slightest touch on it, something resisted him, but he could feel it was full of power and ability. He reached out again touching the red pulses of the plant, willing them to combine with the red pulses of the book on the shelf below. The two conduits stretched out, thinly and weakly to one another. When the two touched however, it was like a great bell going off in his head. Power surged through his body, his hair singed.

“There is more, I know there is, I just need to get to it,” he turned looking for Kieran but she lay face down on her desk.

“If I could just break through and get a gold handle on the red spirit element, I could do anything!”

He took a deep breath, opening his mind to the flows as he opened his lungs to the air. He reached out, in a way he could never describe, and gathered all the pulsating red sources into himself, drawing them into himself, filling every fiber of his being with the power. Conduits of pure red opened themselves up to Caldon.

Power filled Caldon and he new that this was what he had been born to do. This was his power by right. He looked at the potted plant, it was withered and dead, no longer a source of power. He had used up all the power in the lab. Shocked he turned to Kieran, but she was gone. Left in her place was a withered mummy like creature, mouth open in a silent scream.

“What is happening to me,” Caldon yelled, the fury of power inside of him building in waves. He had to get rid of it; it was burning him alive.

He pushed, he heaved, but nothing happened. The power was killing him. He couldn’t get rid of it. He made one last desperate push, with every ounce of willpower he had. Power ripped from his cells bursting them. The very air around him shred itself a part. Time stopped and had no meaning and with one last push every shred of power left his body, exploding before him.

With his dying breath he heard a great roar of laughter saying, “It’s good to be back.”

***

Citizens below looked up in shock as the JPS filled with fire, the containment shields rolling and bulging until even they could no longer contain the massive forces. Great chunks of fiery debris rained down, leaving massive destruction. Yet that was nothing compared to the destruction that was to come.

The Puppets

“The animal instinct for survival is strong,” the balding professor droned on.

As the second hand on the big, industrial clock at the front of the room ticks, the light filtered in through grungy blinds, casting vertical lines across my desk. I imagined myself a mouse in a maze, searching for the way through the bright lines to the hunk of cheese at the end.

I’ve been listening to Professor Nathanson expound on his ideas about the primitive instinct driven brain of this and that reptile. His premise is that given a certain stimuli these mindless creatures will react in predictable patterns, "they are nothing more than the product of their evolution!" finishes our esteemed preacher with a flourish, while he and I both seem to wait to hear the “Amen” from the choir. The “Amen” never comes, but the moment is saved by the tolling of bells. It looks like we'll continue our exploration of the animal mind next time.

As we stumble from our pews to the world outside we're left with a parting message from Dr. Nate, "Next time, we will pull back the conscious mind and examine a trained animal's true being. You will not want to miss it."

I flip open my cell phone. Can they hear me now? Yes, I've got more bars. I make my daily calls, keeping in touch with all my peeps. I’ve gotten a new text. It’s from mom. She’s learned that she has to text me, because I avoid her calls. Her texts are hilarious to me. She always spells out all the words and uses punctuation.

Things weren’t always like this. I never thought I’d go to college, let alone this college, in this town. The people in town, the “townies” as we call them, exist for our pleasure; we’re almost treated as rock stars when we’re in town. They thrive off of the prestige of our name. It’s not like any of them could even make it into this school. But, as long as they can look down at the rest of the country for not living next to this University they will be happy. So long ago, in what seems like a previous life, I remember a much more humble time.

****

Back on the farm, I was just another son working in the early morning hours on his daddy’s tractor, or milking the cows, like countless other guys. Then it was off to school, where I got good grades. My dad always pushed me to excel in school. He and mom sacrificed by working harder than most parents in the area so that I could focus more on my studies. There was never a time I remember waking up when dad wasn’t already out working, nor a day when dad got in before I did.

Not that dad worked too much. He always believed in putting his family first and after that came his community. He never volunteered at the soup kitchen, that wasn’t his way. But there was never a sick neighbor that didn’t get their hay cut by dad, or their dinner made by mom until they were back on their feet. “It was nothing,” they both said. It was what neighbors did.

When graduation rolled around my friends began thinking about marrying their high school sweethearts, finding a piece of land to work as their own, or maybe taking a factory job. I admit, at the time the idea seemed really appealing. I’d been with Anne Marie for most of my time in high school, and I could see us making a life for ourselves. But, in the end, I decided I was going to college.

Mom and dad were very happy with my choice. They were both fairly educated and, although neither had gone to college, they were well read and valued learning. When I was accepted, it was one of the happiest days of my life … that is until I saw the costs of tuition and books. My dad, realizing what was going on, took me aside and said, “Son, don’t worry about it.”

I was sure I was not going to college. The next day my dad woke me up early and asked me to help him. I remember being angry and sullen. It wasn’t until that night that I realized the prized steer we were loading was going to auction.

The steer was a beauty. He was strong and graceful, and his coat had a sheen that other steers just couldn’t match. He was a fine animal and would have made for one of the best siring beasts in the county. It is not with much surprise that Angry Angus, as we called him, brought in a record prize.

We walked back to the truck and dad turned to me, “Son, I want to talk to you.”

“Alright,” I answered.

“There’s something I want you to know,” he said. “Your mom and I are real proud of you. You’ve worked hard and you deserve what you’ve earned.”

“I just don’t see how I can do it, dad. It’s too much.”

“That’s what this is for,” and he slipped Angry Angus’ check into my pocket. “Now, when you’re there, remember who you are and where you came from, and then come back a better man.”

“I can’t take this,” I began, but I could see dad’s eyes moisten with unshed tears. I’d never seen him cry before and the tears in his eyes made me choke up until all I could do was hug him.

****

I’m walking to my class, enjoying the fresh air and blue skies. The path is lined with trees and grasses where students lay out in the sun. My buddy Andrew calls out and runs over from the group of coeds he’s been entertaining. I honestly believe he must know every girl on campus.

“Hey man, can you believe that English assignment?” he begins.

“Yeah, it’s pretty crazy,” I agree.

“I swear, half these guys here think they’re Che Guevara. The other half want to be him, but they’re too afraid of losing their tenure and their studio apartments.”

“Yeah, but maybe the world needs a few more Ches,” I respond before he has to take off running after another pack of young freshman he hasn’t introduced himself to yet.

“Catch ya later!” He calls over his shoulder.

I enter the building, the lights seem to be out, but there is plenty of light coming in from the outside. I wonder if there's going to be another rate hike, this place never seems to be able to pay their light bills. As I walk towards Nathanson's sanctuary I think back to our last class, hoping I don't have to fill out another quiz. Let me see, he talked about instincts. I open the door and I'm pushed back as another girl slams into me running out of the class room. I'm shocked more than hurt, allowing her to easily push past me. Inside the room is chaos. There is a large metallic contraption at the front of the room. It looks like a stainless steel refrigerator, with blinking lights and gasses escaping from the seals. The lights in the room dim and surge in rhythmic time. It's time to get out of here, but as I turn to run when I see Professor Nathanson sprawled on the floor. It's too dark to see him well, I don't even know if he's breathing. As the lights begin to dim again for agonizing milliseconds I debate leaving him. I even take a step out of the door. I just can't do it. I’m such an idiot.

I reach Professor Nathanson and bend over him. It is too loud and dark to tell if he is breathing. I’ve got to take him with me. He's even lighter than he looks, so it doesn't take much to sling him up over my shoulder, a lot like carrying a lost lamb back to the pen. With my package now in place I'm able to make myself back to the door and stumble out. It seems like a good time to be anywhere but here. The hallway is bathed in shadows as I try to make my way out of the building.

The hallways are pure chaos, the bells, no longer the student’s relief, release a piercing alarm speaking to an impending doom. Students are running through the halls, their --our arrogance--  in never learning the closest escape routes is now coming back to haunt us. Some run up the hall, some run down. Many collide into each other in the artificial twilight. I shift my package, adjusting my grip around Dr. Nathanson’s thighs because a big jock pushes me against the wall as he runs by. I can't believe we ever made fun of this man for being so thin. His lack of flesh allows his every rib to dig into my neck and shoulder.

Reverberations begin to shake the pictures on the wall. I can actually see dust begin to fall from the ceiling and the pictures rattle before I feel the vibrations in my legs. Before I fully process that the world is moving in incorrect ways, my senses are overcome with a roar of noise and I am enveloped in a wave of black dust. I turn away and stumble back down the hallway, groping along the wall. The roar gets louder and louder, and it feels like wind is whipping through my hair and clothes, pushing me harder and harder. It's darker than night in this hallway and I can't find my way. Suddenly light surrounds me; light so bright I can't see anything. I feel myself lifted from the floor and slammed against ... something.

****

I think I’m going to be sick. There’s a dull roar in my ears, but it feels like it’s coming from inside my head rather than outside. Even thinking about whether the sound is in my head or not is difficult. I realize I can’t see anything, but slowly I realize it’s because my eyes are closed. With a great deal of effort I’m able to force my lids apart. I can see the sky is a light shade of red. That doesn’t seem right, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. Everything is upside down, but that might just be me. I’m outside now, I think I might have come through the wall, but I can’t remember very much. I see that reddish gray blocks and dust cover my legs.

I’m able to pull myself free from the stones—it takes a lot of time because my fingers on my right hand no longer seem to bend the way their supposed to. I’m able to roll over onto my hands and knee. One leg won’t bend, but with effort I get to my feet. Looking back I see the smoking hole I must have come from. The building is destroyed. The sight of the building reminds me of something … I had something, it was important, wasn’t it? What was it and where did it go? I turn, slowly because my leg isn’t working quite right.

I scan the grounds nearby. There’s too much chaos to process. I rub my head, and it comes away sticky. There’s blood there, patches of hair, and something sticky. I don’t know what it is, but it burns faintly. Looking away from my arm, my eyes fall upon a nearby tree. The leaves look red and something about that tickles something in me. Even more strange, there are two legs dangling from an upper branch. I don’t even need to think about it to realize that this isn’t right. It’s Professor Nathanson; I guess it’s game over for him.

My vision is still tinted red, hazy and blurry for me. The world feels like it’s tilting to the side. I start to notice others hobbling out of the smoking hole in the building. Some are covered in scorch marks, half their clothes smoldering on their bodies. Watching them make their way out of the building reminds me of marionettes, puppets being controlled by strings. The first few come out, turning into dozens and then hundreds. Soon they are everywhere.

The puppets are making their way across the green, limping, tugging trailing limbs. The sound of sirens pulls my attention the other way. Ambulances and fire trucks are arriving, along with people rushing in. It’s the sweetest sight I think I’ve ever seen.

By now many of the puppets have twitched passed me. I open my mouth to call out, but only a mumbled groan escapes my lips.

I see an object drop from the tree in front of me. It’s Professor Nathanson. I can scarcely believe my eye when I see him stand and begin leading the others into the mass of incoming bodies. How could he have? I have no time to complete the thought, as his and the shuffling puppets near him have twisted from slow twitching movements to sudden and violent attacks. The first responders: paramedics, EMTs, firefighters, and students don’t have a chance. In a sudden fury my fellow blast victims have turned from suffering victims to monstrous attackers.

I am right in the thick of the action. I’m not sure how I got over here, but maybe it’s a good time to get out of the middle of everything, before I’m attacked.

At some point I know I will have to fight. I may not be in the best condition, but I feel pretty confident. After all, I didn’t wrestle all those steers back home for nothing. I feel like a swift, decisive attack to the head will incapacitate my foes faster than anything else.

I turn my head and I am confronted with my first adversary. I see her eyes; they seem to be full of madness. Her skin is white and clean, and her every moment seems to be a jabbing attack towards me. There’s a definite aura of anger and aggression settling around us like a dense fog. I feel my heart race and my body seems to go into overdrive as adrenaline floods my system. I can hear the beating of my heart in my ears and feel the pulsing in my eyes, a throbbing glow of red that threatens to redden everything out.

Before I realize it, the whole thing is over and I’m standing over her. She’s completely still, almost peaceful now. In contrast my hands are shaking, and I feel everything but peace. I can feel my body slowly returning to my control, my hands slow their shaking and the thumping in my ears slows to a normal beating. I’m feeling much better now. Stronger. Safer.

I feel like my face is wet and sticky. It’s not raining. I rub my arm across my face and mouth; I look down at my hands and see that they’re covered in something slimy. How did that get there? I wipe them off on my shirt, and I feel something pop. Looking down, I see a finger has popped out of socket and is now dangling. I think I better get over to an ambulance.

I make my way over to a grouping of three ambulances. Strangely, there’s nobody there. I vaguely remember there was a reason the people were gone, but now it won’t come to me. I lean against the ambulance. I hear a commotion on the other side of the ambulance. Shouting, confusion, anger, fear, terror, and hatred. I look over and I see. Of course, it all comes rushing back to me. Dr. Nate is there, at the front of an army of twisted, broken bodies attacking and, I think I’m going to be sick. They are feeding on their victims!

I turn away in disgust. What was that? I think I heard something from inside the ambulance. I make my way back to the rear and throw open the doors, hoping for help.

When the doors open I’m confronted with a snarling beast. Crouched against the back of the ambulance is a dark haired man, his eyes glint with danger. I know he’s preparing to jump out and attack me. My heart starts beating in double time, the throbbing in my ears the pulsing of red filling my vision. I jump, fury filling me. I will not let him stop me.

I emerge out of the back of the ambulance a few minutes later. I’m glad I could save myself. I feel full and sated. I see Dr. Nate out in the field, standing tall and proud. How did I ever think that there was something wrong with him? I can see it much more clearly now. He’s the visionary; he’s the true man who is willing to do what is right. He understands better than others what needs to be done and is willing to do it.

It is the others who are full of madness. Their fear and weakness it reflects in their eyes. I cannot help but be enraged by it. The paramedic, he wasn’t a snarling beast. He was quivering in fear when he was faced with a superior being. Were there others? I cannot even remember, nor does it matter. The world is in the future, not in the quaint traditions of the past.

It is with pride that I take my place at his side.