“You said even hell has its hero’s Al, Does that mean the devil lives forever? Those daemons who were dammed on that bridge, those sprits I loved, do they ever leave my side?”
His question frightened Alex, it was the affirmation of the previous thought; Elijah was chasing something through the shadows, something that would drag him into the depths of hell and keep him there forever dancing, with out air, with the creatures of the deep.
“Eli, sometimes the venerated aren’t the ones you should worry about passing. They aren’t the ones still dying, being tormented, or waging war. The whole air is full of souls, many maybe still lost on that bridge. But the ones who haunt the dammed, call them daemones and some, heros, and it is they who send us dreams, signs and illnesses of our mind. Wherever you are at, whoever you lost, know those here walking through blood with you, fight the same battle you are.” Alex looked up momentarily from his diligent work like a peddler just opening his pack to a valued guest.
Turning his fixation from the bridge, ever creeping closer to him, to the body of the man that carried the voice of the child he saved from the shores the night the world changed. Eli wondered what his son may have been when he was the same age of Alex, would the same quality of man stand before him, would he have the temperament to groom someone to speak so eloquently and directly?
“Al…someday I hope to give you the same guidance you always seem to have to those who follow you through these moments of distress. You have always been a leader, quiet, strong, ever evolving into the moment where you’ll stare hell directly in the eye and show the world what you are.”
Before Alex could find a response, the boat slowed down as it approached the belly of the large transport hiding the shadows, as the craft began to stir parallel to the craft Tadpole’s voice came over the radio.
“I’ll bring us in slow to the end sir when you place the device let me know. It seems too quiet out here for us to wait around while that disables the boat.”
“Relax kid, we’ll get you out of here in one piece.” Eli spoke playfully back the to the rookie over the open channel. “Just watch the bridge and take off without us incase someone starts shootin’ at us.”
Like he described, Tadpole brought the skiff up to the end of the barge, killing the silent engine as they floated into the craft. Eli reached out to rab one of the rungs of the service ladder welded into the hull of the beast to steady the craft while Alex, picked up the device and lowered it slowly onto the prop.
“Teller, open and deploy all craft to the Anderhill side of the bridge through the marina, move south to secure the main roads and the Tower. Deploy the other craft and hold in the water on the Aurorae side until the MLM move to take the bridge for support. Aim all batteries along the shores and make sure the men stay clear. We’re planting and should have this detonated here in a minnute.”
“Copy Sir.”
Elijah nodded to Alex in agreement while he held onto the ladder steadying the skiff. “Plant that thing high enough so the signal will reach, I’d hate for this thing to fall apart because the Commander couldn’t press his fancy button and have him pissed at us for not ‘deploying the device properly’.”
The three friends exchanged a quick laugh between themselves as Alex moved towards Eli and grabbed one of the rungs.
“I guess I better put it mid deck then. Watch my back.” He started to climb quickly with the receiver in hand and cable in tow behind him. “If they open fire, be ready to catch Eli.”
The rungs were damp and made the climb difficult, but Alex took his time as to not fall. A stench began to reach his nostrils as he ascended. It was a faint smell that lingered in the thick, dead air over the harbor. Placing the receiver on the hull of the ship, Alex could hardly breathe without his lungs fighting him, the putrid odor, now filling each gasp with a terror never felt before. Deciding to climb to the top Alex was met and stopped by his gut rejecting the air he was breathing and began to dry heave.
Not stopping, Alex raced to the top as the odor finally engulfed him, covering his mouth after flopping onto the service deck, as a fish landing in a boat, flopping, suffocating for air. The muscles in his core tightened with each exhale as if they would vomit his bones themselves through his gaping mouth, struggling to grab the stench filled oxygen once again. He couldn’t hear the faint cries from Eli below as he lay there, hapless to the spasms, his mind numb to all cause except for the clawing of oxygen as it came through his throat.
Stammering to his feet, Alex peered over the side into the belly of the whale where the foulness was being spat into the air. There, under the pale moonlight, Alex saw the origin of the smell. The mangled limbs of countless corpses, cascading deep into the makeshift crypt, released the chorus of their cries coating the air as a volcano does with sulfur and ash over the countryside.
The fumes, finally too much for Alex to bare, cause his body to cry back, brining him to his knees once again, vomiting the fumes back into the belly of the ship. Turning away from decay, he fixed his gaze on the light of the pillar to bring him hope. A careworn feeling began its decent over him. The way men could slaughter and dispose of one another based on nothing but a differing view. A view born forth out of discussion that slowly was nurtured not by intellect, but by rage, curing it in fires of contempt, and finally once brought back from the kiln, a hardened idol blindly worshiped as the ideal that should be followed. No matter the age of man, the dawn of sensible reason, the utopia that brought so many lives and hopes to fruition or the perpetual light of hope, the unwavering brooding truth that waited in the shade of day was that men would always find ways to disdain one another. Focusing on the bridge Alex tried to root the image behind him by focusing on the distant sounds of waves from the open water lapping against the shore, its circadian rhythm summoning him back to the poise he had stood with for so long.
There was a bright flash that quickly deadened the music of the night. The force knocked Alex over as he struggled to shield his eyes. When the light dimmed he squinted his focus back on the bridge. Then, with a chorus of chaotic clatter, all collapsed and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled for the last thousand years, swallowing the shards of light as they fell into the darkness of an aquatic grave it mocked while it hovered over it, outshining it since the first sunrise trickled through its cracks. The macabre scene stopped all time around it as all eyes watched the pillar of light slowly dissolve into nothing.
Looking over the railing to his friends below, Alex could see them slowly move to the front of the boat as if the wonder and shock, of the isolated storm of light, summoned them towards the event. Alex rolled off the side of the vessel and plummeted towards the welcoming waters below. Pulling himself up through the phantoms of the bottom that tried to bring him towards them, He grabbed the bow of the boat and motioned for his friends to pull him aboard.
“Call Teller and tell him to disable to boat. Also, to unleash hell, full assault. Jon take us to tower. We need to lock down this side of things. Head to the wharf on the south side of the tower and watch for any shells when we get out.” Alex said getting pulled aboard.
“Al, put this into the heal of your boot.” As Eli handed him a small capsule, the length of his fingernail, he turned it, and it began a slow dull blink. “I found theses it in the weapons cache. It’s a low frequency tracker. Teller will know where we are and wont launch down any shells on us this way.”
Alex pointed to Davis. “Is he ready for this?”
“It’s always the same questions with you isn’t it. I’m glad we aren’t married Al, all you would do is nag, nag, nag. You worry about commanding the damned fleet I’ll worry about watching the kid. Now put the damn tracker in your heal and load out. When we get to the top of the tower, and if he is still alive, then he’ll answer our questions of if he is ready.”
Alex stabled the side heal of his boot with his knife and put the capsule inside. “How do you know we’re heading to the top of the tower?”
; “Because I have a big-ass rifle in that bag over there that’s just your style, and it’s the tallest building for you to command from.”
The three men exited the boat south of the tower as Alex replied. “Problem is Eli, wherever you think the perfect position is, so will your enemy. We need to find another place to command fr-.”
The howl that interrupted him wasn’t the dead souls or ghosts that now moved through the empty catacombs that were once the thriving arteries in the city of lights. The building howl that crept up on them was the shriek and shrill of a low flying aircraft that mutes all other sound with its bombastic entrance. From the west the aircraft split the rustic glow of hellfire on the pluming black clouds that hid it from the stars. As its roar built, Alex watched the flooding wake being pulled behind as an effigy does the contempt passerby who desecrates the idol on their journey. Unflappable, the bird of prey pointedly glided towards its target with malice aforethought to take up an offering like owls do with unconcealed mice.
Alex could see that it was heading in their direction, but they were not the mice it was looking for, a much larger feast of carnage was in its sights. The stoic trinity stood by hapless as the bird climbed sharply from its leveled approach, watching as it flew over the tower and banked sharply to head down the channel.
Once again a bright flash was quickly ushered into the waning peaceful darkness scaring the congregating shadows back into hiding. One by one the grey gargoyles of peace that stood above the city crumbled into the void underneath them as the tower fell, collapsing into a mountain of jagged marble and steel while it plumed ash and dust into the air. The mantle of peace was pulled down upon itself for the prosperity of another, and the temple of hate and anger that spewed evermore into the air took its hold in the lungs of the three ghosts standing in awe; Lo! Death had rendered himself a throne.
Breaking his gaze from the medusa of destruction before him, Alex watched the airplane once again swoop low and head south along the straight, splitting the world in two as it flew out of sight. Alex knew how they were planning to destroy the only hope democracy had left, by pure attrition. The next target was the promenade of Nicaea and then destruction of the Southern Pillar. His mission had changed; he was no longer solely to lead the sons of Vanahei into combat, but to be the salvation of innocent lives caught in the tempest that seeped from the carnalis circle unto the plain of the righteous, damning all who stood in the elements.
“Eli, we aren’t going to be using those tonight, we need to head to Nicaea now.” Alex reached for his radio. “Commander Teller, Aurorae is overrun. I repeat, overrun. Issue orders to secure Anderhill and proceed with caution. A third of the fleet will remain here to provide support; the remainder will head south to Nicaea and try to evacuate any and all personnel left alive on the island.”
“What do you mean alive kid, the congress has been in Conclave there, trying to reach a united diplomatic solution since this whole thing started. They said they would listen to decent terms when they finally work out a new election system” Tellers voice was puzzled at the thought of the congress being in jeopardy. “The supply lines to them have been secured from Vanaheri to try and keep the congress on our side.”
“They aren’t waiting anymore! That bird, that just flew overhead, its target isn’t us, Teller. It’s the damn leadership of both nations. This whole thing is about independence from Vanaheri. Starting by the destruction of all ties, after Nicaea they are looking to take out the south pillar and completely sever the physical ties to one another.”
Brief static filled his eardrums as he waited for the Commanders reply. The white noise distracted him form the dust and filth as it past by his turned back while he faced south, trying to catch a glimpse of the wigged beast that vaulted itself over above the hopes of man and plummeted the world into the fowl abyss from which it came. “Back into the tempest and the nights plutonian shore, leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul have spoken,” was all that his thoughts could muster as he vanished into the cloud or ash that fell around him, like a specter back into the shadows of his home.
“Al, buddy, you still with us?” Through the coughing, Eli’s voice could be discerned in the blackness. “Teller confirmed the orders, we need to get back in the boat. Where the hell are you?”
Elijah’s cries fell on def ears as he moved through the darkness to find his friend, frantically moving his arms back and forth in front of him. “Alex! Can you hear me?” The cries became more exasperated and hysterical. What passed on as seemingly and eternity was a mere moment before Eli finally grabbed somebody. “Al, that you?”
“It’s Davis, He hasn’t responded yet?”
“Davis? What the hell kid? Why aren’t you back in the boat yet?” Eli quickly tied a rope around Davis’s pant loop as not to loose him in the darkness, and the two began moving as one.
“Because I’ve been lost in this smoke looking for the both of you and I didn’t want to fall off the pier into the water.”
“You’re a swimmer what the fuck are you afraid of?”
There was a long pause before the reply. “I guess you’ve got me on that one.”
They continued to press on through the blackness moving while they shouted out for their comrade. With each passing moment, Elijah became more and more fearful of watching another person he loved be taken from him by this war. Those thoughts became more apparent and real with each passing cry, like a lost child looking for their father in a crowded store. Until then between cries Eli heard the sound of someone pulling the hammer back on their gun and a fait whisper into his ear.
“Shut up and don’t move.” The voice was close to his head as he also heard the slight click of the safety being taken from the weapon as well. Paying heed to the warning, Elijah stood in place, waiting for instruction. As the smoke began to dissipate, Eli could see the hairline profile of a handgun only a few feet away from his head, but could not see who was wielding it. The tension pulled itself out like an archer drawing their bow, holding itself in that perfect, unwavering, serene moment before the strenuous reaction from muscle fatigue takes over.
Flashes burst through the night, all three before the first quick cutting noise could be felt in Elijah’s ears. He remained frozen until the smoke lifted enough to see Alex in front of him with his side arm stretched out with the suppressor attached. Looking behind himself, Eli saw three stillborn bodies that the mist of dirt and grit had given birth to.
“You guys good?” Alex said putting his weapon back in the holster. He waited for the faint nods from both men before he continued. “We need to get out of here before another patrol comes looking for them. We’ll have to figure out another way to take this city, when the time is right. Rookie, cut the umbilical and get that boat started.”
Alex tossed his knife to Davis who nearly fumbled the utility tool before cutting the rope attached to Eli and took of towards the skiff. Eli walked up to his friend who was waiting for him before they joined Davis in the boat.
“Couldn’t help it huh? Ya had to make a joke about the rope?” Eli’s tone was near condescending but he had trouble not smiling seeing his friend there, alive and unharmed.
Smiling Alex replied to his friend. “It was too easy to resist it.” He nodded to the bodies on the rubble behind them. “It looks like they figured out the tunnel system here. At this point, its safe to say the same tunnels that we evacuated people out of the first day might be under every major city and not just here. Which would mean they were meant for military response when they were created. When we get back on the cruiser make sure you tell operations to radio the men in Anderhill on a secure frequency about the tunnels we used while we were there, don’t let it go over the open channels.”
Elijah nodded in affirmation as the two of them entered the boat and motioned they we ready to return. It was apparent to both men the strategic disadvantage they had been in for the entire operation. Alex formed in his mind that the MLM had information on everything they
could want, including what the men were eating on the boat. In order to determine how they would have such access, Alex’s mind went down a dark path. Tillery had been a man true to his word, the information wouldn’t have been things that he had access to, thus no possible way he could be a mole. Quickly the list became narrowed by those with foreknowledge of the last few months of operations to execute a gambit so timely. Someone with direct access but wouldn’t raise suspicion with their day-to-day activities, someone at Central Command.
The slight crackle of gunfire erupted in Anderhill as they shoved off from shore to meet the large transport trudging through the murky waters towards Nicaea. Eli kept his eyes on the shoreline while he let his friend ponder in thought. He shadowed him when they left the craft, moving through the bowels of their flagship and eventually found themselves on the bow, slowly placing the wicked seen of judgment behind them. The gunfire gave way to silence, and the decaying of flesh was replenished in Alex’s lungs by the smell once again of the sea. Yet before he could find a point of solace, he opened his eyes to another flash of light, another glowing beacon summoning him beyond the horizon.
In the specter of the ongoing genocide before them, the disregard for human life soaked the marble steps in its crimson wake. The once snow colored oculus, that served as a cauldron for of the angers of the world below it, brewing the distain of all only to allow the righteous ideals to pass back through its pore, had been pulled down from the perpetual churning crusade of humanities own nature, its intellectual pestilence that fought its way out of hiding, into the hearts and deeds of men.
There had been no time for souls fighting in the political arena to flee the island that for so long had become the ever lasting hope of man. It was reduced to a necropolis for those who dared to dream of a day when man could except one another for the kin they are; If only humanity could judge a cause based on its virtue instead of its profit, hope ushered into the desolate halls and vacant realm of Dis.
Pillars of Glass Page 20