Arkapeligo- Rising

by Ma West

  She grinded and pulled hard on the alien’s tentacles, lashing out with each thought. “Fucking God, put my fucking family in danger, fuck you. Jesus fucking who? I don’t see any fucking messiahs here to help me. How could I have fallen for that shit! Stupid fucking idiot!”

  At last the time had come, and Sasha let go. Whether it was conscious communication or situational recognition, it didn’t matter. Her plan had been anticipated precisely as she had imagined it. Luckily, she was too damn angry to execute her plan to jump off the beast, as its comrade attacked. Instead, she bore down hard on the beast, dropping it to the ground. She now plunged the rebar up hard into the soft, exposed skin and held on as she swung down to ground level.

  The alien beast let out a wrenching squeal as its leg failed to respond when ordered to rise. Sasha scaled the two beasts as they struggled to untangle themselves, overcome by their injuries. She regained her position of command but cringed as she saw her weapon lying on the ground.

  Sasha kicked and kicked, but it had no effect. This alien was able to spread its wings. The alien took two massive strokes with its wings, rushing the wind past Sasha with hurricane force. The alien tilted a wing, and Sasha was soon spinning at a high rotational speed. A foul smell added to her growing nausea, and she was now fighting on two fronts.

  At last, the alien stopped spinning and landed back down on its comrade. The alien’s body sizzled, as did the entire ground and building. The building Emilia had run out from was now moaning, and glass from above started to shatter and fall as the windows burst. The ground floor moaned even more, and Sasha lay on the back of an alien, watching as this great tower leaned farther over and downward. Then she wished for another emotion.

  Never play chicken with a dying man, unless of course, dying is your goal, thought the captain. He had nothing much to lose and only one thing to do: squeeze. Air had long since stopped traveling through his throat, but he willed his muscles ever onward, ever stronger. It was hard to say who won, for the captain could feel his body dropping but not the sensations from the body itself.

  It was impossible to tell whether he was dropped, let go, or released. Without vision, he could only use his hands to see. Keeping track of anything much else other than his hands was proving impossible. His head lay on its side. He could feel the cool of the metal against his face, but his neck failed to respond, and he was still looking for his feet.

  A foul smell, acidic in nature, entered his nose, clearing his mind a bit. He found his hands and brought them to his neck. His throat raw and painful, the breaths rumbled and snorted as they tried to resume. The captain felt his body tilting, yet he wasn’t sure how it was happening. A new sensation started across the back of his head, a hand slowly and gently moving into a position of support. His neck raised, and he soon felt a nice heat surround him. He closed his eyes and rested. Not even the howls of the moon, nor the crumbling of the walls, could tear the captain from his perch full of warmth and comfort, so soothing.

  Another sensation took hold, warming his body and soothing his worries, and he located another body part as Emilia pressed her lips against his.

  Is the fog a miracle, an abstraction, or an evolution? Sasha wondered to herself. She felt the beast below her strut as it attempted to free its leg from the corpse below, but with injury and fatigue, it was no use. Sasha lay on her backside on the beast as she watched. It had a Hollywood beauty about it. First came the small bits—glass shards, cement pebbles, sand—and yet falling right behind in slow motion were larger pieces, like brick chunks that used to be the wall, cement blocks, and an elevator.

  Sasha wished for a life-flashing phenomenon. She wished to revise her night with her friend, Emilia. She wished to see her father again, to feel his warmth as they embraced like family. But she was sorely disappointed. All see got instead was a loud chorus of howling.

  The howling continued and fluctuated, and it was ruining what would otherwise have been an acceptable ending to Sasha. Not only did the howls begin to intrude on her last moments, but they began to physically move her as well. The fog didn’t object, and Sasha felt her body relax in the arms of a stranger—the comfort of its fur, the tickle of its touch, the cool breeze from its speed.

  Sasha rolled up into the fetal position, her legs nearing her chest, and the beast’s arms wrapped around her ass and legs. She reopened her eyes and gasped in amazement. This furry beast launched from platform to platform whether it was a fire extinguisher, car, or other surface not covered by the alien’s burning acid. This alien was grace under fire.

  At last, the animal with the face of a dog came to a halt. In no more than four leaps, the critter had cleared a city block. Slowly and carefully, the animal laid Sasha down, her back gently resting against a brick wall adjacent to a stairway to the building entrance. Flowers misted the air with the scent of lavender, relaxing Sasha even more.

  The first group of humans to arrive on the scene was a squad of armed and armored police officers led by the beautiful mustache of Colonel Major. The group executed as precisely as a military unit, each man taking a corridor of responsibility and positioning themselves correctly.

  The animal suddenly stood back from Sasha. A loud chorus of howls echoed down and around the buildings as, one by one, four more of the dog-like creatures appeared into a similarly proficient formation themselves. Large electric spears zapped the sky with powerful bolts of energy.

  The animal pulled something from a pouch in his stomach, gave a smile of some sort, and then tended to various parts of his body that were smoking and burning. The intensity of the situation had allowed the critter’s injuries to go unnoticed, except by the colonel, who lowered his weapon and ordered the others to do the same. They followed his lead, as he inspired trust and confidence in those below them.

  In response and without orders, the dog-like animals turned off their electric tips and stood at a more formal position. One of the animals in the rear of the formation threw a staff to his mate, the one who had saved Sasha. He took position at the head of the formation, bent to a knee, and attached a medium-sized rock to the top of the staff. As he rose, the rest of the animals knelt down in a sign of respect.

  “I am Archimius. We belong to the Dognosis clan. I can speak on behalf of the Arkapeligo, and we are here to pay homage and respect to the human guardian.” The group rose, pounded their chests in a ceremonial ritual, and returned to their kneeling positions. “Rarely before have we witnessed such an act of bravery, and we shall create songs and rejoice in your victory here today!” Again the group stood up and pounded their chests, this time howling as they did so. “Even if this is the pinnacle of strength for your species, we have surely gained a most powerful ally here today.”

  One of the aliens from the hospital approached from the side. Moving within sight of Archimius and allowing itself to be seen, it interjected without speaking. “Now, please, if you have no doctors, allow us to heal your Guardian. I assure you that we are very kind and knowledgeable.”

  The colonel blinked, dumbfounded, and after a moment, the alien doctor came to Sasha and began its examination.

  Chapter 35

  My Soul, My Soul, an Eternity for My Soul

  The meeting ended, and the group disembarked focused and coordinated. These people were worthy of respect, a notable accomplishment for a leader of such strange and abrasive leadership techniques. The colonel was the only one to stay behind. As chief of police, his position was one of the most critical, and he needed to stay in lockstep with Hashmore.

  The two men looked out over the conference room’s view of the city. The ocean lay only a few blocks away, mostly obstructed by the litany of skyscrapers. The sky had darkened and looked nasty. Gray pillows of clouds were advancing. The two men were drawn from their conversation as the outside environment shifted. It started as a hum but grew louder and louder.

  The two covered their ears against the hammering sound. It crescendoed, and through the break in the skyline, a large p
lume of water rose into the air.

  The high pitch of the falling tethers was replaced by the seductive roar of ocean waves. A high wall of water raced through the skyline, aimed seemingly directly at the two men. Later Hashmore would describe his actions as knowledge based, but in truth his body was powerless. He was no Moses, yet here he stood with a wall of rushing water descending upon him.

  The colonel tugged and then pulled, but Hashmore was anchored and unable to look away. The wall of water was coming fast, yelling with its mighty cap waters. For a moment, just for a moment, Hashmore could see the terror in the colonel’s eyes, but he felt nothing—not fear, not disbelief, and certainly not the Holy Spirit.

  The colonel closed in briefly. “By God, it’s a miracle.” The wave of water had run out of substance, and as it flooded into the open plazas and parks, it parted. Hashmore relaxed his stance, but he could not relax his soul. Deep inside, he felt a great loss, a great emptiness.

  The colonel jumped up and down a time or two before looking at Hashmore. “Can you believe that? Whooooo, if that doesn’t reassure you that God is on your side, nothing will, my friend.” A gentle pat on the back dislodged Hashmore from his stance. “Come on, Mr. Hashmore, there is a great deal of work to be done, and we need you to lead us through it.”

  Something was wrong, and no, he wasn’t referring to the end of society. Assigning tasks, delegating responsibility, implementing God’s will—this was his calling, this was supposed to be his time to shine, but it all felt so hollow. Hashmore had always imagined himself being paraded down the street after saving so many from whatever such disaster. He always knew it would be God’s will, but God was nowhere to be found in this disaster. His will was feeling absent in the center of his soul.

  A new voice called out, and every new voice brought yet another new problem to solve, meaning more stretching of the resources and less productivity. RUDY hummed with activity. The room was fully manned now, with multiple dispatchers now operating out of the same central location, the major staff all working in conjunction, literally trapped in the same room together, and of course the mayor was roaming around somewhere.

  The list of problems was endless—people trapped in darkened buildings, schools without running water, and a workforce mostly still out of communication. “Mr. Hashmore, Mr. Hashmore, you have to help us, you have to.” The petite man came running into the room, wearing the uniform of a subway engineer. Hashmore sighed as he turned to face the man, a sad and depressed look strung across his face.

  “It’s the substation just south of here. There are people trapped down there. I know they’re alive, hundreds of them. You have to do something, now!”

  Linda, the secretary, came trotting up behind the engineer. “Sorry, Mr. Hashmore, I couldn’t stop him. He said it was life or death.”

  The high heels were a more likely cause of her inability to stop the man, he thought to himself. A quick examination of the man revealed that he was indeed panting hard, as if he had traveled some distance. His feet and trousers were wet, but only a sparse drip now fell to the floor.

  Hashmore rubbed his forehead. “What can you tell me about who is alive, where they are, and what we need to rescue them?”

  The man caught his breath and his face relaxed, slightly reassuring Hashmore that the man was indeed getting what he wanted. “I tried to save them, but the waters were too much. The lady with the baby, my god, my god! She was pushed down. She lost her baby. My god.”

  The man was obviously reliving a horrible moment, in fact the most horrible because it was the moment when reality hit home and could never be dismissed again by the logical brain.

  Colonel Major was quick to rush in, placing both his hands on the man’s shoulders and closing in near his face. “Move on, man. What happened next? You’re safe now. Let’s get those others safe now too.”

  The panicked man nodded his head as he mimicked the colonel’s head movement until his mind had control again. With a stutter, he continued. “In the train cars, the people were trapped. Water was leaking in through the door. They couldn’t open it. Something was wrong.”

  Hashmore spun around and cursed under his breath. “Oh, Lord, why have you forsaken me this day, so that I should have to wash up the wake of your wrath?” Then he began searching RUDY for somebody who could go check out not only this man’s subway station but all of them. That meant having to deal with Cook. Hashmore bit his lip as he pushed the call button, summoning Mr. Cook.

  Their rivalry had started decades ago. The mayor would say that Cook beat Hashmore to the punch, but Cook had actually stolen a tip and a career case away from Hashmore. He rode that bust all the way to first-offer retirement. Why the mayor was so enamored with him, Hashmore could only venture to guess. Logic would suggest that Cook had some dirt on the mayor, but it was only speculation. Even Cook’s walk was annoying, with its bouncy cadence, and then add his perfectly cut hair and manicured suit—get over yourself, already.

  Cook answered with an arrogance that drove Hashmore crazy. “Hey, Hashy, looks like you have a real job to do today. I will forgo the unusual pleasantries so we can go save some lives, hoorah.”

  The man’s voice alone gave Hashmore a headache. “I have a witness reporting people trapped in the sub cars. What can you tell me?”

  Hashmore expected some smart-aleck response, but Cook stayed more professional than expected. “It’s true, I currently have two water-rescue units in operation, but honestly, I lost contact with a great many of my people who were working the docks. I have most of my active units concentrating there.”

  Hashmore sighed, hating the fact that this man might be his superior in ways that, though less important in the grand scheme, were still easy to envy at times. “There will be many hard decisions today. Many people will be lost and many lives changed forever. I’m turning the department-of-corrections personnel over to you in order to assist you in evacuation of the subway system.”

  “But, Hashy, these guys have no training, no knowledge of our chain of command. How do you expect me to deploy them?”

  Cook’s incompetence drove Hashmore crazy, but he was resigned not to show it outwardly. “Ok, here is a suggestion. Take one of your rescue teams and separate it out so that each man takes leadership of a corrections detail. They can then attend to more situations at once rather than one by one, still leaving one team intact for the most technical rescue efforts.”

  Cook paused. “What about the prisoners?”

  Hashmore chuckled at the questions. How could a non-Christian question his morality? “Maybe they should have thought of that before they betrayed society and got themselves thrown in jail. Let God deal with those lot.” Hashmore meant it too. In his mind, it was only a matter of time before God brought his full wrath down upon those most wicked.

  Communications were always a problem during times of crisis, only making matters worse. If the power went out but the phone still worked, it was a problem. If the phone went out, who the hell cared if there was power?The grosser details were giving a feeling of law and order over the whole city, but the backlog of minor calls was growing.

  The colonel was proving much more effective at getting his men up to full strength, while Commander Thomas’s crews were still struggling to catch up. Word had come in from the pier, and Cook had indeed lost a lot of his personnel in the flood. As expected, the department-of-corrections officers were more than willing to abandon their gloomy surroundings in order to play hero, so Hashmore ordered them down into the subways to save any and all possible souls.

  It’s a cruel Lord who takes support away in times of such need, Hashmore thought. The falling of the tethers was only the bomb that stopped the convoy; it was the secondary one that caused the most harm. The noises had started again, but while isolated in their safe room, Hashmore and the others were unaware of it, and as he ordered hundreds of heroes down into the depths of the subways, another larger, more voluminous wave headed inbound.

  Rafters a
nd huge slices of material were pummeling deep down into the ocean and land around each side of the island. As soon as one would settle, another would drop down and splash into the ocean, sending wave after wave far into the city.

  Hashmore and a few others watched as monitor after monitor went blank with the passing of the waves. Unit after unit lost contact, their markers disappearing like hope in the night, leaving behind only a dark board and a vacant computer display. Hashmore’s emotions turned to despair.

  This level of failure isn’t possible, he told himself. God destined me for this. How could I have failed my Lord so miserably? Or did my Lord fail me miserably?

  He just couldn’t explain it. Hashmore watched the unfolding of God’s wrath, but he was preoccupied with a bigger problem, a problem of faith. When gentiles can feel God’s love, why could he only feel empty? Hashmore studied his computer terminal. It was in power-saver mode, and barely usable. Perhaps, he thought to himself, he had outlasted God’s usefulness too. Maybe he was God’s scapegoat. Could the God he worshiped for all this time betray him like that?

  While Hashmore’s outward appearance may have been appropriate for the circumstances, the internal reasonings were far different. He decided to do what he had predominately done in the past during moments of crisis and march on to higher ground before looking around. A moment of panic, a moment of uncertainty, was no reason to abandon ship alone, yet there was a nagging feeling he just couldn’t shake either.

  Without RUDY, this room was nothing more than a shelter, and in his current state of mind, seeking shelter wasn’t going to cut it. So using his phone as a light, Hashmore walked up the three flights of stairs, passed through security despite giving some of the guards quite a startle, and walked outside.