Apocalypse's Prelude

by Carl Damen

  "What's going on, Lob?"

  I'm not here...

  As the voice didn't spoke, Mistaren's form dissolved away, revealing another body. This one was even more desiccated than the first, and familiar, but it too faded to be replaced by a final form, a tall man of indeterminate age and race. He looked lovingly at Edarus, as a father might look to his son, then reached out towards Edarus.

  You've come this far; now you must go until the end... You will be pushed, farther than you thought you could go, but you will thrive like no one else...

  The sentiment arrived all in an instant, then the spectral hand touched Edarus, passed through his head and into his body—

  His body exploded in a shower of pain, filling with a dull red light that pushed back against the harsh blue-white all around. He tried to scream, but he felt his throat writhing, collapsing in, filling with strange tumors that obstructed his airways. He fell to his knees and stared in horror as his skin began to boil, writhe, turn to cancerous growth and then melt back, again, and again and again—

  Nausea swept over him and he curled into a ball, his mind growing distant from his body, looking up not through his eyes but through everything, seeing the specters peering down at him, some in triumph, most in pity.

  Above all was the tall man.

  You chose this... you did not know it, but you chose this...

  There was a final burst of intense heat, and then Edarus was gone.

  A rough hand touched Amanda's shoulder and shook her awake. She looked up and saw the chief of staff, Ashheart, looking down at her, her face grave.

  "Wha—"

  Ashheart held a finger to her lips. "Don't wake the boy. Come with me; it's an emergency."

  Amanda slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Than, and padded out into the corridor. She felt oddly stiff; perhaps she needed a better mattress.

  "Where's Edarus?"

  "I'm afraid that's the emergency."

  They reached the opening that led to the grand ballroom, and Amanda could see, far below, a human form laying on the marble, the body partially obscured by a cluster of Eglon staff.

  "Oh, God."

  Amanda rushed forward and down the stairs.

  "Ma'am, I think that—"

  She didn't hear Ashheart; her only thought was for Edarus.

  She reached the marble floor and pushed through the people to get close to her husband.

  He lay on the floor, naked, covered and laying in a pile of what looked like ash. His skin, what little of it wasn't covered, was pink and fresh looking, like an infant's.

  She knelt and tried to cradle his head, but an older man with glasses held her back. "Please, ma'am, we don't know what condition he's in."

  Amanda didn't care; she had to get to her husband. In that moment she forgot about her mistrust, about her fears. All she saw now was the father of her son, standing in front of the monster, staring it down, sure to die, to leave them all to die—

  Edarus gasped and convulsively jerked upright, the ash falling away to reveal more of his body.

  Amanda gasped and gaped, shocked by how much Edarus had changed since she had seen him last. His body seemed younger, certainly, but also thinner, far thinner. His ribs and shoulders protruded from his skin, his skull bulged out of his head under a shaggy mop of hair and a disheveled beard that flowed down onto his chest.

  "Oh, God, Edarus."

  The man with the glasses leaned forward. "Mr. President? Can you hear me, sir? I'm staff doctor—"

  The doctor was drowned out by a series of wracking coughs from Edarus, who proceeded to stand and look wildly about the vast room, staring wide eyed at the morning sunlight that streamed through the great wall of glass.

  He stood transfixed for a moment, then turned slowly and stared at the crowd that had assembled for him.

  "No one..." his voice was hoarse and wavered slightly. "No one speaks of this. No one tells anyone..."

  They all nodded dutifully, unsure of what else to do.

  Edarus stood for another moment, then walked away in the direction of the stairs. "I need food..."

  The doctor and several members of the staff followed Edarus out of the room, but Amanda remained where she was, staring down at the ash that had enveloped her husband. What had happened? She felt a cold certainty that this was going to become another of Edarus's deadly secrets, one more thing that threatened the family's safety should it ever come out.

  And as she waded out into the ash, bent to pick some up and let it fall through her fingers, she knew that she couldn't let Edarus endanger the family any longer...

  9

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 13

  The thick form of Raife cast a shadow over the alcove, blocking light and, thankfully, wind.

  "Goddamn it, it's Friday, it's practically the fucking weekend," Amanda grumbled, squatting in the sparse snow that had blown in before Raife had taken up guard duty.

  Tara snorted. "It's only four-thirty. Your dad was later than this yesterday. My mom gets at least as much slack. Rush hour."

  "Fuck rush hour. The whole world's changing, and we're not out there! If we can get to the station before six, we can be in New York by nine, U.N. by ten."

  "So your dad said yes?" Tara looked sidelong at Amanda, and Amanda squirmed.

  "I didn't tell him Ware was going."

  "Hey," Raife interjected, "how come he gets invited, but I don't?"

  "Cause you've still got a shot at valedictorian," Tara answered. "We wouldn't want you caught in a riot and killed. Or worse, arrested. Keep you out of the good colleges."

  "What makes you think there'll be riots?"

  "Cause I'm fucking cynical. Not as cynical as Amanda, but I know how the world works. Even though making them was wrong, lots of people will still want the Defenders to stay American."

  "No, man, no one will want to fight. They'll all be with Terstein; they'll all be trying to help the E.H.U.D.s. The ones who bother enough to go to the U.N., at least."

  Tara shrugged. "Well, I'm fine with you going. We can't exactly stop you, either. What do you think, Rach?"

  There was no reply from deeper in the alcove.

  Tara turned. "Amanda?"

  Amanda sat flat in the snow, back against the wall, staring out at the packed schoolyard. "A riot."

  "What?"

  "A motherfucking riot. That's how we'll do it!" Amanda jumped up and grabbed the fringe of Tara's jacket. "It's what Terstein said, 'Defend with action.' We show how serious we are, how we're not letting all this shit get us down, how we're not going to take illegal imprisonment, how we're not going to let the government do all this again. We stage a rally, right here, right now, and we say, 'Let us go!'"

  Tara raised an eyebrow. "All three of us know that's a bad idea."

  "No!" Amanda let go and looked imploringly at Raife. "C'mon, it's just like when Latterndale stood up to Merd! Us against the school!"

  "Okay, first thing," Tara said, getting a firm grip on Amanda's shoulder and turning her around, "You can't pull the 'scary E.H.U.D.' card, alright? We're on their side. Second, it's too soon. Someone died Wednesday."

  "That was bigger, and someone had a gun! Who has a gun here?" She looked to Raife for support, then back to Tara. "C'mon, you always say you want to make a difference. Going to the U.N., that's great, that helps the bigger picture. But what about this small stuff? Who takes care of this if not us?"

  Tara let go and eyed her friend critically. "You just want to fuck Ware sooner."

  Amanda raised her eyebrows.

  Silence stretched out for several long moments before Raife cleared his throat. "I say we do it. What they're doing here? It's wrong. Our parent's haven't done anything about it, and the school board hasn't listened to us so far. No one defended the Defenders when their rights were violated. Who'll defend us? Fucking no one but ourselves."

  Amanda smiled and started to perform a victory dance before Tara stared her down. Amanda cleared her throat and
gestured to the yard beyond Raife. "Okay, let's think this out."

  They peered around the edge of the alcove. At the far edge of the schoolyard was the main gate, guarded by the school's four full-time security guards, six off-duty police officers who were volunteering to protect the next generation, and a handful of teachers who looked just as uncomfortable as the hundreds of students who milled around before the gate.

  "Okay." Amanda pulled back and retrieved her mobile. "I'm going to organize a protest online. Raife, Tara, you go and drum up some people. Try to get the popular bitches; Amanda, Sahara, maybe Jewel. We'll meet in front of the gate in fifteen, okay?"

  "Now it's just a protest?"

  Amanda shrugged. "We'll start there and see what happens."

  "Have you thought about what happens if they try to shut us down?"

  Amanda shrugged again. "They can't catch all of us."

  "Shit."

  Fifteen minutes later the crowd of students trapped in the yard began to contract, a solid nucleus coalescing in front of the gate.

  The off-duty officers noticed. One stepped forward, raised his hand and waved to the students. "Hey, kids. Gonna need you to step back, please. Cars are still coming."

  The students didn't move. "Let us go, man!" Raife called.

  The officer shook his head. "Can't do that. Have to stay here until your parents pick you up, or until your bus gets here."

  "This is illegal!" Tara yelled. "Detainment without just cause!"

  Her words seemed to break something in the crowd, and a chorus of "Yeah!" and "Nazis!" echoed off the school's bricks.

  "This is what happened to the E.H.U.D.s!" Raife yelled. "They held them, they tortured them! What's keeping you from torturing us?"

  The officer, sensing that police interference wouldn't help the situation, stepped back and gestured at one of the teachers. The teacher stepped forward, flanked by other members of the school staff, and tried to diffuse the situation, but her words were drowned out by the student's enraged chanting.

  "It's the fucking weekend!"

  "Let us go, you Nazis!"

  "Illegal imprisonment, man!"

  Amanda stood off to one side, watching as her plan became a reality. Beyond the gate, she saw a minivan pull up, and felt the thrill of success as the guards noticed the van, then concluded that they couldn't let it in. A parent had come for their child, but as soon as the gate was opened the students would rush out, would overrun guards and break rules.

  So the minivan had to wait outside. It honked, and somewhere in the school yard a girl yelled, "C'mon, my mom's out there!"

  And as the tension mounted, and as the guards and teachers and off-duty officers pulled closer together, and as the students pushed forward to create a greater presence, Amanda saw what was needed to make this work. She crouched, picked up a handful of snow, balled it, and let fly.

  "The fuck?!" Tara looked around, trying to see who had hit her in the head with the ball of slush.

  "They're throwing shit!" Amanda yelled, waving her arms and gesturing at the guards.

  That was it. A phalanx of students—the troubled kids, the pranksters, even the occasional scholar—rushed forward, swinging backpacks and skateboards, ready to let out a decade of pent-up rebellion.

  For their part, the off-duty police kept their heads. They fell back into defensive postures, made sure they held nothing that could be construed as weaponry; none of them wanted to be the next Ken Wendleferce. It was the teachers who panicked, who tried to fight off their attackers.

  More students pushed forward, there was a scream as a canister of pepper-spray was emptied, and the riot began in earnest. The police now had no choice but to defend themselves.

  The angry yells, the prospect of easy victory and peer acclaim excited Amanda, and she found herself pulled forward into the throng. She moved until their was a gap around her, slung off her backpack, felt inside for anything to throw into the melee.

  Folders flew, loose paper floated through the still air, books fell like deadly rain.

  Seconds—minutes—hours later, Amanda heard sirens. She looked up from the basketball coach, his face bloody as he succumbed to the savage beatings of three teens, and saw sirens flashing behind a curtain of snow. Metal screeched as police cruisers crashed through the gate.

  The student's didn't run. They abandoned the teachers, the staff, the guards, and swarmed over the newly arrived police. Amanda rode the wave, swept up in the ecstasy of tension released. She saw blue uniforms before her, heard amplified shouts—

  Felt pressure in her back, felt a blossom of pain across her face as she hit the concrete. Someone knelt on her back, wrenched her arms behind her. A plastic loop was slipped over her wrists, pulled tight, and then she was alone, lost at the bottom of a sea of humanity, trying not to drown in the flood she had unleashed.

  Hours later she sat, arms unbound, on an uncomfortable plastic bench at the nearby police district station. Around her were arrayed some thirty schoolmates, those who had been unlucky enough to be rounded up before the riot had ended. All were beaten and bruised, all were quietly simmering.

  Amanda had made it through the ordeal relatively unscathed; her lip was puffy , her hands and knees were scraped, but she was alright. Five students had been sent to a hospital. Likely the same hospital where her father worked, she realized.

  There was the sound of footsteps at the door, and she recognized Tara's mom coming down the hall. A police officer stepped forward and led Tara, who had been sitting a few seats away, out of the holding room and towards her mother.

  "Any of the rest of you care to call your parents yet?" another officer asked.

  "Where's our lawyers?" Amanda demanded.

  The officer turned his head and returned to some paperwork.

  A few more minutes passed, a few more angry grumbles from the defeated students, a few more uncomfortable settlings in chairs, and a new officer stepped into the room.

  "Amanda Dolad?"

  Amanda looked up, surprised. Her dad couldn't have found out about this yet. Did Tara's mom spill? Maybe—just maybe—Ware had figured a way to spring her without being checked out by a parent.

  "Come with me."

  "I want my lawyer."

  "This isn't a legal matter; come with me."

  Seeing no option other than continued boredom, Amanda stood and followed the officer down the hall and into a small office.

  "Please, sit."

  Amanda sat.

  "I just got a call from the lab about your urine sample."

  "Hey, you said I didn't need a lawyer!" Amanda tried to keep panic out of her voice. She was proud of what she had started this afternoon, but she didn't want to get in any more trouble than she already was.

  "It's not about drugs. They said you came up clean. Its something else. Tell me, how many sexual partners have you had in the last year?"

  It took several moments before Amanda could think of a reply. "That's... that's none of your goddamned business!"

  The officer raised her eyebrows. "I'm afraid it is. For the safety of everyone in this building, everyone who has even the possibility of arrest is tested for drug use, certain sexually transmitted diseases, and pregnancy."

  Now Amanda was well and truly speechless.

  "Congratulations, it's a boy."

  "You can tell that from a test?"

  The officer closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "No, that was an attempt at humor. What we can tell from a test is that you're pregnant, probably one to two months."

  "Oh, my God..."

  Amanda sat in silence as the officer droned on about the virtues of protected sex, of the options available for unwanted pregnancy, of groups that could help her in every possible way.

  All Amanda could think about was September 12th, the day after Lanlin, the day after the world had changed forever. She had ostensibly been with Tara studying, had really been with Ware, staying up late into the night, discussing the future, coming to terms
with the fact that they might very well die in the coming days as the Defenders took their righteous revenge. And then, at the height of fatalistic release, they had thrown consequence away and made love like there was no tomorrow. But there had been a tomorrow, and another, and another, until more than two months had passed and she sat in the police station, listening to this woman prattle on as if Amanda were some kind of irresponsible child.