The Overlord: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

by Jared Paul

  The two shared a momentary chuckle before Sentria suddenly grew dire in a troubled realization, "You're going back to the Lair, aren't you? That's why you're giving this to me."

  Deadstock regretted, "Doom forever, that's been my legacy, but I promise I won't make it yours. It ends today and it ends with me."

  "Doom does not have to be your only legacy," she comforted. "There is life too. It's in the lives that carry your name in their hearts. You will always be their Overlord, the one who showed them a better path. The Thralls, you have to save them. The Free World has ordered all of their deaths, but there are still good people among them."

  Shaken, Deadstock turned to me, "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

  "I was overruled," I explained. "It is not just my job to govern the Free World, but I also must carry out its will, even when I don't agree. To do otherwise, would be of my own agenda. Democracy demands I set my own self aside."

  He gave me a stern glare, "What's the difference between you and a Thrall if you're both slaves? Maybe you can't do anything for all of them, but you can always do something for just one person. Promise me this, Ember. Find one and save him. Save one, not for me or for our daughter, but for yourself. Save just one for your own humanity. Don't let it end any other way."

  I was speechless. I could neither promise nor submit myself to disregard the request. My humanity had just been put on the line. Had my vow of leadership replaced my duty as a soul?

  Before I could even give an answer, he knelt back to our daughter, pleading, "You'll have to learn to forgive me, Sentria. I was never the father you probably wanted or needed. I'm afraid I'm still not."

  Sentria vigorously claimed, "Today, you're father enough for us all. One way..."

  "...or the other," he completed.

  With a kiss on the forehead, a kiss on the cheek, and a kiss on the hand, Deadstock said his goodbye to his daughter. It was an emotional time, but I must leave alone the details of that memory. Out of respect, I must let that memory rest in the hearts of those that shared it. Goodbyes are often very delicate things. Words do not always do them the justice that they deserve. When the time had come to give my own farewell to my husband, I did not expect the outpouring that had been hiding within me all along.

  Restraining myself and finding composure, I addressed the necessary affairs at hand. "I have good news for you. My research has completed the construction of the Plague of Phantoms. The warhead is live and ready, but I am afraid I have some bad news too. The original plan isn't going to work. I had hoped that you could man a fighter and drop the EMP onto the pyramid, but there's too much interference from the volcano now. The warhead's trajectory would be stopped before it ever reached its target and there is no way to manually guide the missile."

  He nodded, "Even if we could set off the Plague of Phantoms nearby, we don't know how far its range can go. It's got to be close."

  "Is there even anything to be worried about, though?" I presented, "Why can't we just let the volcano and the Wandering Star destroy each other? Surely, this cannot simply continue on forever. Inevitably, the power has to stop."

  "But when?" Deadstock asked back, "Time is precious. The Wandering Star is putting out an unstoppable laser that's hotter than anything else on the earth. That laser is digging directly into the deep layers of the planet. Yes, that volcano is surely expendable, but those magma chambers eventually all connect to each the further they go down. If one blows, the ones nearby could likely follow, awakening every dormant volcano in range. It'd be the same effect of a nuclear fallout. Humanity could hold on like they did after the Last War, but nobody knows what's beyond the lava. The laser could easily aim for the earth's core and that'd be the end of all survivable life. Are you willing to risk the Free World under that kind of disaster?"

  "No, I get your point," I said simply. "Which is why I'm going to allow what you're about to do next. I know exactly what you're thinking. My instincts want to stop you, but my head knows it must be done."

  "I need to set-off the EMP by hand inside the pyramid," he confidently offered. "It's the only way."

  I veered down, escaping his eyes. "It is a plan that could succeed, but it would mean your death. There would be no escape once the warhead is activated. I am only going to agree to this because there are more lives at stake aside from your own. Even so, this plan still has its holes. How exactly do you plan on getting there? As I've already told you, a ship will never make it."

  Deadstock thought for only a moment, before blurting out, "The Low Atmo bike! Please tell me you still have that Low Atmo from Fever Island."

  "You mean that piece of rubbish that can barely fly?" I sought. "I believe it remains in the loading bay, right where you left it."

  I then led him down into the hull where the greasy craft was last located. Sure enough, it was still there, fallen to one side. Gears and nuts from the oily bike were spewed about all over the cargo floor.

  I attested, "This is absolutely ridiculous, Doctor! That fuming piece of junk was barely running when you escaped from that island!"

  He persisted, "What other chance have we got?"

  "None that I can see," I caved. "I truly wish there was some other way than for you to do this."

  "All of humanity is at stake here," Deadstock asserted. "You need to stand by them through whatever sacrifice it takes. No regrets, Ember. Never do I want you to blame yourself for something that's not your fault. This destruction has always been my doing and now it'll finally come to an end."

  Within the hour, I called my crew to prepare the Plague of Phantoms. I suited Deadstock up with some new gear and had my engineers try their best to remove any kinks out of the Low Atmo Bike. As for the warhead itself, we fitted with a couple straps so that Deadstock could carry it like a pack on his back.

  I instructed, "The actual payload is in the nose cone of the rocket. When you find the Wandering Star, all you have to do is detach the warhead from the neck of the missile tube. It twists off easily, but as soon as you do, it will initiate a countdown sequence of three seconds. When the timer runs out, the electromagnetic pulse will discharge immediately."

  I tightened some traps and pulled at his gear, testing its strength. He was ready. Wish I could have said the same for myself.

  I carried on, "Oh, and I had my officers take a geographical scan of the area. I asked for the best guess they could give me and they estimate you have about thirty minutes until the volcano erupts, so don't waste a single second."

  "I don't intend to." He then faced me, brushing my loose hair from my eyes as his fingers slipped down my cheek. "Every day, since the Last Day of the Last War, I've asked forgiveness for things that I've done, the things that I've created. Today, there's only one person left in this universe that I still need to say it to. Will you ever forgive me, Ember?"

  "You have always had my forgiveness." I clutched his hand in my own and brought it up to my lips to bless it with my love. "All I ever wanted was for you to forgive yourself." My head drifted to his chest, resting on the steady pounds of his heart. "Just tell me one thing. Did you ever think about me all those years you were gone?"

  "Always," he expressed ardently. "You and I, Ember, we're day and night, the sun and the moon. One creates light, the other can only reflect it. I've only ever been able to reflect the light you once shared with me. It fed me, gave me purpose through every wandering."

  I looked up at him in his arms. "Will anyone ever know what happened to you out there, the things you saw?"

  He uttered uneasily, "I hope the world will never come to know the darkness that I found, but always there was a light with me."

  I investigated, "What light?"

  "The light of us, our love, whatever it once was worth," he replied.

  "It was worth it to me," I concluded as I found the two of us shoving in closer and closer. Beyond any sensible control, we embraced in finality with our mad lips fused together.

  The intertwined devotion broke as one o
f my crew then called out, "We've just reached the perimeter of the Lair!"

  The hatch of the Beast of Burden then opened up in a fury. Our fervent passion became accentuated by the wild winds that blew in from the opening. There in the loading bay of my ship, we held onto each other with our arms, like strong vines around a tree. Together, we took in the horrors awaiting outside.

  Beyond the hatch was a dark and reddening sky. The pyramid's laser was violently drilling into the fiery expanse of lava and the clouds of ash. Flames had engulfed the surrounding earth. This was the fate the whole world would know if we failed to bring the Blood Tech to an end. This was the fate of my husband, my beloved Dr. Deadstock.

  He peered into me with forlorn ultimatum. With a sincere sadness in his eyes, he muttered, "Goodbye."

  Abruptly pulling away from my grip, he marched over to the Low Atmo bike. Settling onto the saddle, he retracted the kickstands and prepared to ride out. The engine revved up as the sputtering bike idled.

  "Wait," I called over the sound of the roaring engine.

  Concerned, he swiveled on his seat. Over his shoulder he looked back at me for one last time. There was something that I needed to find out before the chance was lost forever.

  "I know why you left, but you never told me why you came back," I declared.

  Deadstock then turned off the rattling engine, revealing his motive to me, "I once warned the world that there would come a day when the Blood Tech no longer served humanity, but instead, enslaved it. On that day, I urged the people to usurp its oppressors as I had once usurped mine. I never thought that it'd have to be me who'd do it in the end, but that's what I've come to do."

  "Is that really all?" It was a stirring answer, but I loomed in closer, not yet fully satisfied. "What else is out there? What can't we see in the darkness of space? Tell me what's coming next."

  He grew serious, "Life, Ember. Life comes next. Live fully and tell the world nothing of me."

  "Humanity will want to know the truth," I countered. "The people deserve to know who preserved their lives this day."

  Deadstock demanded in return, "Then don't speak of me in terms of good or evil, a hero or a villain. Tell humanity I was a choice, and the choice to love was made this day."

  Revving up the jangling engine once again, the Low Atmo bike hovered off the deck of my ship. Deadstock then flew out through the hatch into the ominous distance beyond. Into the murky sky of crimson, he rode. It was like a cowboy of old, riding off triumphantly into the sunset toward a new adventure. Only it would be Dr. Deadstock's last ride. He wasn't coming back or going anywhere new. It was the final sunset.

  A tear flowed as I watched him leave. It was the first physical emotion I had allowed myself over the past three days. A single tear. It held everything, all the equations and all the answers.

  "Goodbye, my husband," I softly spoke into the whirls of the wind. "Farwell, Overlord."

  My tears blurred the outlying panorama and I soon lost sight of him. Into that abysmal distance, he was gone. All I could do was wait for any sign of success.

  I was back in the infirmary with Sentria when a sign finally came. The distant purple fire of the laser beam suddenly shut off, ceasing in one instant and dissipating into all directions. The hovering pyramid groaned out, giving pause to a levitating balance. Hesitating in its own weight, the glassy panes compressed and shattered as the colossal structure lost its place in the sky.

  The Overlord's task was complete. His creation, destroyed. The reign of the Blood Tech was over.

  It was a glorious downfall as the pyramid descended to the earth below. My crew was cheering at the brilliant display of obliteration, but beside me, Sentria sat in silent peace. With "Old Glory" in her arms, she pulled the flag just a little closer toward her heart as she looked out into the distance.

  As the lava flow settled and the volcano went back to sleep, I noticed that the adjoining shoreline beyond the Lair had moved in a little closer. The upset of the terrain had sunk the level of the ground. The ocean had taken its place as a result. Its arrival had been hidden in steam, only recognizable when the molten lava began to solidify. It was a new shore, a messy destruction where water and land were coming to meet.

  In its emerging beauty, though, I found that I could not look upon that stricken beach for very long. I closed my eyes to the devastation upon the burning sands. It was not out of regret or loss, sadness or hardship. I had closed my eyes in thanksgiving. Triumph had been reached and I needed not look upon destruction any longer. When I reopened my eyes, at last, I saw only a new creation.

  20

  THE CHILDREN

  In the bedlam of the lava's terror, the Thralls had taken refuge throughout the labyrinth of the forest. Those that survived were met with a new terror. The guns of the United Corps had come to seek them out.

  The Blood Tech had been destroyed and the remains of the upturned Lair had stabilized. The air space was relatively clear, allowing the Corps to hunt us down with a vengeance. A mandate had been given to find every surviving Thrall and subsequently eliminate them without mercy. In the eyes of the Free World, we had lost the right to exist on this planet.

  The waterfalls had run dry and every cave had collapsed. The trees and cliffs were no more, leaving most of us out in the open. Without cover, we'd be easy targets. Fossil and I were among a handful of refugees when the Corps ships descended from the darkness above. Raining down their fire upon us, we hid behind whatever we could find. Taking shelter behind overturned stumps and rubble, we fought back with what little hyper rounds we had left. Our assailants then deployed from their shuttles to move forward in a ground assault. All too soon, we were outmaneuvered, outnumbered, and outgunned.

  The whole area was cloaked in a sweltering fog and our vision was becoming more and more obscure in the heat. There was no time to clean our faceguards during the firefight. I took off my helmet so I could see and found a shortness of breath. The air was hot and full of fumes.

  Breathing slowly, in and out, I watched as my fellow brothers and sisters of the Thralldom fell. One by one, these fallen were good people. Some were barely even adults, like me. They'd just been caught on the wrong side of fate. I guess nobody had the luxury of innocence anymore. In that moment, the whole world had grown old as youth was slowly being killed off.

  Through it all, Fossil took several hits for the sake of others. He made it his duty to safeguard whatever Thralls he could help. In the repercussions of the firefight, I was counted among the lives he protected. Fossil was the kind of man that would give his life for another, dying a happier soul than any living you'll ever meet.

  He shouted back to me as he charged toward the incoming assault, "See you on the other side, mate!"

  A shot into the head and he was down. No last words. No dying wish. No emotional embrace as he left that battlefield to wherever his spirt was sent. There was no goodbye. He was just gone, plain and cold.

  "I'll be right behind you," I swore to him in my grief as his body dropped to the charred earth.

  It then came down to me. I was the final Thrall, all alone against the United Corps. The only thing I had left in my arsenal to fight back with was a mere three shots that sat in the chamber of my hyper pistol. I counted down the rounds.

  "Three," I missed.

  "Two," I overshot it.

  "One," I began to press the trigger.

  That last shot wasn't pointed toward any inbound targets. It was aimed under my chin. Crouching down, I decided to reserve the concluding round for myself. As the hot barrel singed the skin of my neck, I found it difficult to follow through. My forefinger was pressed against the prompter, but I couldn't find anything in me to pull that trigger. I eased my hand and decided to try again, a fresh attempt. My finger pressed once more.

  "Wait!" A cry came from the fiery fog.

  Despite what it seemed, the cry hadn't been directed toward me. The ground assault of the Corps had me pinned, prepared to finish me off before I cou
ld. The unexpected voice gave pause to both parties. It was a woman's voice, revealing to be an imperative order directly from the President. Ember Nightwood, in the flesh, had appeared on site.

  "Stand down and hold your fire," she barked as she stomped through her ranks. "Bring the boy up to me, but do not dare hurt him."

  With the violence at a standstill, I was quickly surrounded and captured. I didn't know what to make of it all, but thought it best to fully cooperate with them. Maybe I wanted to stay alive, if only for a little bit longer, or maybe I thought it'd mean I'd get to see Sentria one last time. In all honesty, I was probably just scared.

  My wrists were tightly clamped in a pair of inflexible cuffs. I had never felt the restraints of metal before. In the Thralldom, we had electronic bindings. They were only rarely implemented during times of insubordination. The Thrall bindings were more comfortable than these archaic and demeaning chains. Perhaps they were less effective, but the restraints found in the Thralldom reassured whoever found themselves tied up in them that they weren't really in any kind of big trouble. Usually, their use was the result of a night of reckless activities. Nothing was ever more serious than that.

  I remember when a few buddies convinced me to join them on a midnight flight. They had commandeered a transport and had planned to return it the next day. It was just a little recreation, but the excursion proved brief. We were quickly caught and subsequently reprimanded. After only a single day in the brig, we were released with a slap on our wrists and we all went on with our duty.

  Being arrested by the United Corps was no wrist slap like the good old days, if ever those existed. I was being bound as a criminal. My captors truly believed I was something evil and there was no way to convince them otherwise. The elimination of the Thralls had been put into effect and I was now their final subtraction.

  Beckoned into a United Corps shuttle, we were on our way back to Nightwood's ship, the "Beast of Burden." The transport was quiet inside. Nobody spoke. Nobody even looked at each other, let alone at me. Not that I could really tell. My head could barely turn to either side in the constraints of my seat.