Stumbling on the rubble, Christine retraced her steps. She also continued to yell Benjamin’s name as if it would make him and everyone else suddenly appear.
To her distress, the room where they were once barricaded was completely gone.
“Murph!” she yelled in horror. “What happened?”
Standing at the edge of the rubble, Christine saw that half the building, including the ground underneath it, must have collapsed into the earth. Looking straight down she noted how the Susquehanna River, which previously flowed a quarter of a mile away from the museum, now ran directly below her.
Its torrents were ruff and billowed with foam and debris. With revulsion, Christine observed dead bodies floating in the mix. The small river now looked like a large bay, sprawling for miles.
Christine dropped to one knee and began to cry. Though she was relieved to be alive, her victory over death now felt hollow. She had lost so much over the past few years. What The New Reality had not stolen, Mother Nature had taken. Christine’s body shook with grief.
Murph placed his hand on her shoulder. He wished there was something he could say to console her, but he knew he would only make things worse by putting the unspeakable into words.
His gruff, blunt attitude would certainly not provide Christine with the solace she needed. Plus, he, too, felt an overwhelming sense of dread, as if death was waiting at the next turn.
Murph turned back and looked out into the heart of Philadelphia. In their haste to locate their colleagues, the true devastating consequences of the earthquake had been lost on him. The city, like the museum, lay in complete ruin. The once beautiful skyline which only hours before had risen out of the earth as if attempting to touch heaven itself had been destroyed much like that of the Tower of Babel.
Water flowed through the street while cars, debris, and dead bodies lay in piles along the side of the once great buildings. From atop the mound on which the museum once stood, Murph felt like a castaway on a remote island.
Murph pondered a moment, wondering if any civilized society still existed. From generations of economic debt, unscrupulous scientific exploitation, embracing false leaders, and blurring the lines between right and wrong, humanity was collapsing, just like the buildings around him. Despite the evidence at hand, he still held out hope that Jules Windsor would change everything and bring back stability to the planet. Murph believed the media’s portrayal of his leader and truly wanted to trust him.
As he turned back to console Christine, Murph noted a faint golden glow emanating at the far edge of the rubble where it dropped down into the Susquehanna. What is that? he wondered, walking over to the area.
Maybe someone is still alive? Murph hoped as his pace quickened.
Now at the edge of the debris, he noted the light emanated from a hole in the face of the newly-created cliff abutting the river.
Was someone down there? Is that where Benjamin and the rest of his friends were now hiding?
Murph cautiously scaled the side of the cliff, holding on to the protruding rocks for support. Luckily, the drop off was not sheer and sloped at enough of an angle to make the descent manageable. Plus, with years of heavy weight lifting, his well-toned muscles made the journey relatively easy.
Grabbing a stone slab overhead, Murph lowered himself into the cave. “Benjamin?” he said while holding his auricular chip. He continued to call out his name a few more times as he walked.
Murph wound his way down steps carved with precision from solid granite; faintly glimmering walls of the same stone illuminated his path.
“Kate?” Murph said louder, hoping anyone would answer his plea. He then ran through ten more names, but each one was answered with silence.
“Benjamin?” Murph said one more time before he abruptly stopped walking.
He knew what stood before him was certainly not part of the Art Museum. Though he was admittedly not the most cultured man on the planet, Murph recognized that what he was looking at was no modern construction.
“Christine!” Murph yelled into the auricular chip as he ran back up the steps.
“Christine!” he beckoned. Reaching the top of the cave and now looking towards his only surviving friend, kneeling at the edge of the debris, Murph yelled, “You’ve got to see this!”
Chapter 7 - Pumapunku, Bolivia
Chapter_7
Pumapunku, Bolivia
“Amazing, simply amazing,” said a thin brunette with her long hair wrapped up in an unkempt bun on her head. “Charles,” she said with a soft and soothing Australian accent, “you must have a look here at the exquisiteness of the stone work.”
Wearing a thick silver glove with fluctuating, multicolored lights on the fingertips known as a latumscreen, she waved her hand slowly over a massive sandstone block. With perfectly cut edges creating a multilayered H-shape, she marveled how these blocks fit so precisely together that she could not run even a strand of her own hair between them.
“You found something?” Charles asked. Wearing long, thick boots and a tan jacket and hat to match, he walked over to her. An elderly gentleman at least in his early eighties, he used a long metal stick to balance his way.
“Yes, Cindy?” he responded.
“Charles,” she said, “though our archeology team has scoured the two square miles of this hilltop for the past month, I still don’t understand; in fact, the more I look the less I understand.”
“What has peaked your curiosity this time?”
Cindy waved her hand over a fallen H-shaped block next to her, causing holographic numbers and figures to appear above it. “After surveying most of the stone blocks in this area, I’ve determined that they all originated from the same quarry five miles from here. But a few things strike me as odd.” She lifted up her head and pointed to the geographical area surrounding them. “What do you see?”
Charles chuckled to himself, encouraged by her youthful enthusiasm.
“Barren mountains,” she answered herself. “There are no trees. There is no water. How were these people who created this place able to move 100-ton blocks of stone? What is even more interesting is that all these H-shaped blocks are of the same exact dimensions.”
As more numbers began to appear above the stone block, she added, “It’s as if they were made from the same mold.”
Charles poked his metal stick at a different block of sandstone with an intricately cut curved hole in it. A holographic image of the stone enlarged above the stick and began to zoom in until it became visible on a microscopic level.
“Nor can I explain what the people who created this place used to cut the stone,” Charles added. “Just look at this. Not even modern lasers could create such a smooth surface.”
Their conversation unexpectedly ended as a World Order Guard also known as a WOG landed with a hiss followed by a bang ten feet from their position. The gravitational concussion knocked them both to the ground as if they had been punched in the stomach.
Dressed in a pure black uniform with a New Reality diamond and gold emblem on each shoulder, a gray helmet, and a crimson visor, this anonymous soldier wore a gravity-wing on his back. Colloquially named after their cherub-like appearance, these jet-black wings were certainly not from heaven. Used as a gravity decelerator, gravity-wings replaced parachutes and modernized the art of aerial assault.
Cindy crept backwards, inching herself away from this menace. As she looked around, more and more of the WOGs began to descend upon them and surround the entire Pumapunku mound. She estimated that there were at least fifty of them, with increasing numbers dropping in by the second.
“What do you think they want?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Charles said, “but I’m aiming to find out.”
Cindy placed her hand on his knee, as if to say keep still.
Charles complied. His thoughts now were solely on his team of archeologists at the site and the other tourists examining the area.
The WOG closest to them dropped his gravi
ty-wing and grabbed a metal cylinder attached to his thigh. With both hands, he held it directly in front of him and turned, now with his back to them.
The cylinder expanded directly into the ground with a loud crunch as it embedded itself in the rock. The top of the cylinder also rose another two feet, and its tip began to glow red once secured into the earth. The WOG then began to slowly walk backwards, approaching the position of the two archaeologists without a care to their existence.
“Don’t move,” Charles warned as the WOG stopped only a foot away from their boots.
Cindy looked around the area and noted that the other WOGs had deployed the same cylinder. She quickly recognized these instruments. Called bioshields, they create an electromagnetic barrier around an area that repelled all life ten feet in front and behind and thirty feet above and below.
Four striker crafts then appeared from above and rapidly descended onto a flat landing area in the center of Pumapunku. The long cylindrical-shaped ships with four tail fins equidistantly positioned around its rear side and two slender wings running down its entire length made no sound as they touched down. Fine dirt picked up from the ground spun around the ships in a vortex-like motion for a few seconds before dissipating into the wind.
As the back doors of these enormous ships opened, WOGs flying silver, chariot-like crafts known as heliocrafts, after the Greek God of flight Helios, flew out of them like an angry swarm of wasps. WOGs controlling hover-rams followed close behind. The hover-ram featured a circular base floating about a foot off the ground, a single seat for a driver, and was surrounded with multiple weapons and devices along its exoskeleton. The vehicle proved an effective, quickly portable, and powerful deterrent.
The WOG in front of Cindy and Charles turned and grabbed a rifle-shaped weapon from his side and pointed it at them.
“On your stomachs!” bellowed the ominous voice, echoing throughout the Pumapunku site.
Cindy and Charles complied without hesitation.
Now looking towards the center of the site, Cindy noted a single stratoskimmer enter the ancient ruin. With a large New Reality emblem along its side, the aircraft began to land without making a sound. The site of the stratoskimmer piqued her interest as she wondered who was inside and why they were coming to this location.
As the ship touched down, she felt an eerie sickness overtake her, and her insides felt as if they were being ripped apart.
“We’re too close to the bioshields,” she said.
Cindy grabbed Charles’s hand, hoping not to be shot in the process. The two crawled away slowly, not making any sudden movements until the sickness subsided. The WOG behind them followed, most likely also nauseated by the field’s strength.
The side of the stratoskimmer in front of them opened and then descended to the ground, unfolding a set of stairs in the process. Recognizing the man standing in the doorway, Cindy now understood the need for so much security.
***
Jules walked out of the stratoskimmer and down the steps; he stood proudly at the base of the ship. A WOG with the Achilles Shield secured in both hands stood by his side.
“Sir,” the WOG alerted with some alarm in his voice, “we have a problem.”
Jules turned and saw the shield begin to glow and levitate by itself into the air. The WOG instinctively let go of it and took a step backward.
“Reflexivity!” Jules applauded. “Grab hold,” he then commanded. “This is not a show. Secure your property, soldier!”
The WOG grabbed the shield without further hesitation. With both hands, he glided the ancient artifact effortlessly in the air. It was as if the shield were weightless and all he needed to do was provide a slight nudge for it to move.
“We are certainly in the right spot,” Jules commented on his auricular chip, communicating with Drew.
Now where to look? Jules contemplated assessing the entire area while eyeing each megalithic stone. Where is this shield leading us?
Unlike his uncle, Albert Rosenberg, Jules had no interest in antiquity. As he looked at the massive stone blocks, he could care less about the people who built them or why. His gaze was always towards the future.
An explosion suddenly rocked their position. The concussive blast caused a nearby hover-ram to flip over and crash violently into a low-flying heliocraft. Both vehicles fell to the ground in a ball of fire and smoke.
Jules stood tall and smiled at the distraction. Touching his ear, he yelled, “Hostiles behind two large stones in front of us. Surround and attack!”
Another projectile landed twenty feet from him and detonated upon impact. Four WOGs around its blast perimeter fell to the ground; their bodies sizzled while their suits oozed around them. “Lethal force only,” Jules commanded as he grabbed a rail gun from one of the WOGs standing next to him. Taking cover, he threw himself on the ground as the soldier behind him, still grasping the Achilles Shield, did the same.
A barrage of projectiles erupted from the large megalithic stone directly in front of them. Like popcorn spewing from a kettle, they began to pepper the area.
Jules took aim with his rail gun, sending a bullet propelled by alternating magnetic currents at mock 3 towards the granite stone. The impact obliterated the corner of the rock and blew apart the chest of the hostile who was crouched next to it. His shoulder-mounted projectile launcher fell to the ground. Upon impact, the weapon discharged, sending a concussive shell into the megalithic rock next to him. The explosion obliterated every person within a twenty-foot perimeter, both WOG and hostile alike.
The large, beautifully carved 100-ton stone began to explode in multiple puffs of rocky smoke as a barrage of rail gun projectiles pelted it. Its once smooth surface was now riddled with large holes.
“Charge!” Jules commanded.
Just as he rose to his knees, a circular projectile began to descend in front of him. As if in slow motion, he watched it approach and knew it was already too late to react. The silver ordinance with a single red stripe barreling his way meant only one thing: instant death.
Chapter 8
Chapter_8
Christine felt it sacrilegious how quickly Murph seemed to have forgotten about their friends. If it weren’t for the fact that this cave he was ranting about might provide some form of shelter, she would have simply left and gone on her own again like she had so many other times in the past.
Though she deeply appreciated Murph for saving her in the museum, she would have preferred to get as far away from this place as possible and forget everything and everyone there; it would be much easier that way. She also knew there was no place to go. The city was flooded and in ruins. Her home and all her possessions were lost.
Christine rubbed her eyes, which were still red and blurry from crying; she wiped away a few last tears so that she could safely lower herself into the cave.
“What?” Murph said gruffly, feeling that Christine was somehow angry at him for their predicament.
“Don’t you have any remorse?” she finally said, letting down her guard. “Our friends are all gone, and all you care about is this cave.”
Murph attempted to respond but was interrupted.
“I don’t really give a damn about this cave,” Christine lashed out as she attempted to hold back the tears.
“We must move on,” Murph said as compassionately as possible. “Just like we all needed to do when The Disease and nanosplicers decimated our loved ones.”
Neither said a word as the graveness of the situation sank in a little deeper.
“Trust me,” Murph said cautiously as they both climbed into the cave, “I am truly sorry for the loss of Benjamin and the rest of our friends. However, I know they all wouldn’t want us crying over their deaths. They would want us to find food and shelter and most importantly, to survive.”
Christine knew Murph was right.
“Regardless of what’s in this cave,” Murph said, “it will at least provide us with some accommodations until the water hopefully recede
s. Plus, there may be something we can use down here. Benjamin always said you were the smart one. Maybe you can figure out what any of this is in here.”
Murph then pointed into the cave and said, “Plus, I think there are a few things that you may find interesting down here. Maybe it will take your mind off of what’s happened over the last few days.”
The two began to descend the steps without another word. After going about halfway down, Christine stopped walking; a map on the wall had caught her attention. She had seen something like it before but could not recall where.
“Odd, huh?” Murph said, pulling out a flashlight. “There are a few more along the way. I don’t know who etched them into the walls or what planet they even represent. But it doesn’t look like it was from any exhibit at the museum.”
Murph shined his flashlight on the map so that they could get a better view: greens and blues radiated in the light.
Christine ran her fingers around the circular map’s contours. She inspected the single large landmass and smaller masses in its center and the three other partially-visible pieces of land around the map’s perimeter.
“Phillipe Bauche,” she said. “This looks like a map I once saw. I don’t know how I remembered the name, but I do remember how mesmerized I was with the drawing.”
“Science fiction writer or something?” Murph asked.
“Not science fiction,” Christine said, allowing her curiosity to temporarily usurp her sadness. “He was an eighteenth-century cartographer.” She then pointed to the landmass in the center of the map. “Do you know what this is?”
“A map,” Murph answered glibly.
“I believe it’s supposed to be Antarctica without the massive ice cap,” she responded, as if not hearing his comment. “And these three other areas around the perimeter are South America, Africa, and Australia.”
Murph shined his flashlight on the map but still could not see what she was attempting to explain. “Oh,” he then said, acting as if it all suddenly became clear, “there it is.”
The Final Reality (Alex Pella, #3) Page 7