After The Rising (Book 1): The Risen Storm

by A. R. Daun

  Most of the new Risen had simply taken shelter in whatever enclosed structure they could find, then promptly fell into a somnolent state, with both their biological and nanite components entering hibernation soon thereafter. They were conserving energy and waiting, the Gatherer hypothesized, though for what it could not fathom, and this worried it some more.

  More years had passed. The Devourer continued on its ravenous course eastwards, and within it the Gatherer and its fellow banyans passed the time in congenial fellowship, reminiscing about times past and wondering about the future that awaited them as they made their slow progress across the continental landscape. Their species had always been long-lived, but now transformed they entered true slow time, and the passing of years were a contented blur.

  Then the Gatherer had noticed a group of new Risen rushing in fast from the west. They came in long leaps that covered tens of meters at a time, and they moved in a coordinated fashion that the Gatherer had never seen before. It was almost like looking at a flock of birds, but one that moved mostly across a two dimensional landscape.

  There had been a dozen of them. They were identical to each other and to the avatars that the Devourer had been producing for years, all elongated predatory bodies and sharp razor claws and teeth, but these seemed more purposeful somehow, perhaps driven by an intelligence that was lacking in the others.

  They had stopped in a row by the base of one of the Devourer's many prop roots. Perhaps they were wondering how to get around it, or perhaps they were wondering about the new avatars that continued to rain down all around them before slinking off into hiding. The Gatherer pointed out the new visitors to its cohorts, and they watched with interest as one of the avatars stepped forward and flattened itself against the rough bark of the root, whose circumference was large enough to swallow the occasional dilapidated grain silos that they had come upon in the otherwise bleak landscape.

  The root surface had puckered inwards. Fibrous root hairs erupted around the new depression from crevices in the root bark and then bent inwards to envelop the avatar, whose body seemed to lose its solidity and liquify before slowly being absorbed by the questing root hairs. It was fascinating to watch, as they had never seen this behavior from the Devourer before, and the banyans had taken to arguing among themselves as to its purpose. Had the Devourer ingested the avatar just like it had done to countless others on its leading edge, or had this been some completely novel process initiated by the visitor? Questions to their host were met with stoic silence, and the Gatherer had its first inkling of unease.

  The first real hint that something was amiss had come when one of the quartet of banyans from the Los Angeles Central Plaza went silent. One moment it had been arguing somewhat vehemently with its brethren about the origins of the new avatars, and the next moment its thoughts had abruptly ended. There had been no warning of its sudden departure, nor any indication what had happened to it.

  The hubbub that had followed lasted for at least a full minute, with the remaining Los Angeles Central Plaza banyans peppering the Devourer with questions about their missing companion, while the rest of the group turned to the Gatherer for answers. It was a testament to their strong conviction that they were somehow invulnerable that not one of them thought that they were in mortal danger.

  This had changed when the second of the quartet was silenced, and then the third. The remaining banyan was doing the equivalent of human screaming by this time, its thoughts a muddled screech that drowned out the torrent of questions of the others. A flood of proteins and mRNAs and messenger nanites blossomed from the banyans and threatened to overwhelm the Gatherer's own thought processes, and it withdrew the complex assemblage of nanites and biological components that made up its self deeper into the bulk of the Devourer, who continued to remain silent despite the increasingly desperate please from its brethren.

  “What do you think is happening?” Something had inquired, penetrating through the haze of information that still followed the Gatherer deep into the core of the Devourer, and it realized that the Fairmount Miramar Hotel banyan, who had named itself Memories of Times Past and was one of its oldest and closest friends, had accompanied it.

  The Gatherer had taken a few seconds to think this over.

  “I am not sure,” it finally admitted. “This has something to do with those avatars that just arrived, but whether there is some malice involved I am not certain.”

  “What shall we do?” Memories asked worriedly. It had always deferred to the judgment of the Gatherer, perhaps because its friend had come into self-awareness before it.

  “We must assume the worst, and plan our steps accordingly.” The Gatherer had told it. “We will go deeper into the body of the Devourer and perhaps avoid whatever is happening.”

  It had pushed itself inwards, and Memories of Times Past followed in its wake. It was only after several minutes of this slow passage through the labyrinthine interior of their host that the Gatherer realized that its friend had also disappeared.

  The Gatherer had extended its sensor net to a diameter of more than 500 meters, trying to find any remnants of its friend. The inner bulk of the Devourer was a soupy mix of organic materials enmeshed in nanite matrices that provided both life support and protection to the more delicate biological components, and the Gatherer managed to find only trace amounts of fragmentary DNA that matched the genetic signature of Memories. There was not enough biological material to reconstruct what had happened, though it found evidence of enzymatic degradation in the samples it had managed to collect.

  The Gatherer had made a decision. It programmed then released a few thousand individual nanite particles from itself into the environment then waited, protecting its remaining organic parts by encircling them with layers of carbon-fiber armor extruded by its nanotech half. In the distance it sensed a large incoming presence, a disturbance that manifested itself as rhythmic pulsations in the surrounding fluid that grew stronger as the invader came closer. In the last few seconds of its life, the Gatherer finally realized what had been culling its companions, and something akin to surprise had washed over it. It died, and it had taken more than five years before it achieved awareness again.

  The Gatherer had been prepared for such an emergency. It had hidden its entire genomic sequence and associated memory DNA within the vast library, scattering copies in random blocks just in case some were destroyed by hostile activities or simply degraded over time.

  The nanites it had released just before its death took years to grow a new copy of the Gatherer. They could have isolated the relevant DNA, transcribed and then translated it to the encoded proteins and assembled a seed-like structure that incorporated all the memories and biological components of the banyan within weeks of its death, but the Gatherer had deliberately chosen stealth over speed.

  The first thing the Gatherer had done when it had awakened was to mourn the passing of its friends. As far as it could determine, there was not one single salvageable remnant of the other banyans left. They had been irretrievably lost to the winds of time, and the Gatherer vowed that it would exact vengeance, a declaration that was backed by the full resources of its vast library and the patience of a sentience that measured the passing of time in centuries.

  It knew. In the moments before its impending doom, as the waves of hardened nanites sent by the Devourer slammed into its body and cracked the armored shell that protected its precious biological components, the Gatherer had sensed the presence behind the surprise attack. Something had co-opted the Devourer and turned the simple soul against its friends, and it had been done so insidiously that after the event its friend had no knowledge of what had transpired. It had passed through like a tsunami and swept all traces of extra intelligence from the Devourer, then disappeared without a trace.

  The decades passed. The Gatherer had continued to build its information storehouse, but it also continued to be on the lookout for whatever had attacked them. It did not really fear for itself, for it had slowly i
nsinuated copies of itself throughout the library and the Devourer itself, and only the complete destruction of its host would result in its own demise.

  Then they came from the west. A dozen avatars, just like that first time, their elongated bodies flying through the air in coordinated motion like birds skimming the land. The flock radiated predatory malevolence, but this time the Devourer was not their intended target.

  The leaped up the Devourer. They used their razor sharp claws to find purchase on the sheer wall that blocked their path, and adroitly avoided the continuous rain of newly-born avatars that erupted like virulent pustules on the flanks of the world tree. They moved so fast that they dropped to the forward face of the Devourer within a few minutes after they had first started climbing, and the Gatherer watched with interest as they dwindled in the distance. It was obvious that the avatars were in some hurry, and the Gatherer concluded that it was probably in its own best interest to discover their destination and goal.

  The Gatherer had been preparing for this moment for years, and now it put into motion the plan it had set up after its first deadly encounter with the anomalous entity. Hundreds of blisters emerged from the east facing flank of the Devourer and fell to the ground, where they popped like water filled balloon to release their contents.

  They were tiny. They stood on two legs and were about a quarter of a meter tall at best, and covered with soft brown fur that was matted wet at first by some gelatinous substance, but which they shook off before bounding away in pursuit of the avatars.

  In the safe comfort of its library the Gatherer smiled.

  CHAPTER 43

  Year 150 A.R.

  Extract from the journals of Ammara Lewis

  They came for me when I was alone and least expected it.

  I had become distracted and distraught as the days passed and we heard nothing from the expedition to the Deep West. The sense of impending danger cast a dark cloud over my spirit, and the void left by the departure of my son and Denzel made me irritable and prone to rash actions. I had neglected my duties to the settlement as well, and it was only because of Diwi's help that the community continued to co-exist peacefully with the surrounding Risen. She had to double her trips to secure the settlement borders, and her long absence unsettled me further.

  I took to wandering by myself in the now abandoned condos and hotels that slowly crumbled into dust in what was once the thriving Miami Beach Settlement. Many had fantastic shapes, their flat roofs broken by vertical projections, with cantilevered eyebrows extending around the entire structure, and port-hole shaped moldings and bas-relief friezes providing the final decorative touches to the entire ensemble. They were decrepit remnants of an early twentieth century architectural design called Art Deco, now mostly reduced to empty facades in faded pastel colors.

  Perhaps the sense of isolation calmed me, and allowed me to think more clearly, but I knew that in the end what I was doing was wallowing in a self-indulgent desire to remember the past. This was where it had all began - this was where my love for Denzel had first flourished, and where I had given birth to my son, and the passing of years had pushed the sense of danger and fear that had permeated that time and replaced it with warm nostalgic memories.

  I was lost in such remembrances when they rushed at me from the darkness of one building. I caught their rapid approach in my peripheral vision, perhaps a half dozen elongated figures that flickered in the waning moments of sunshine from the western horizon. They were all gangly limbs and chiseled ropy reddish muscles, thorny with a chitinous armor that was perhaps buttressed by metallic streaks glittering in the light, and they bounded in long jerky leaps that covered the distance between us before I could even utter a single cry.

  The surrounding Risen in general did not bother us much. Over the years and decades the Risen had evolved into a plethora of shapes and forms, and I suppose we had reached some sort of tete-a-tete. Information diffuses across what I call the Risensphere, and after the first few years when we had struggled to dispose of any Risen that had stumbled into our enclosures, the bulk of the menagerie had by and large learned to ignore us and take easier prey. The days of the ravenous, unthinking hordes of Class One Risen were decades in the past, or at least I had thought so until that moment.

  But these were not one of those earlier types. Oh, they had a similar look in the way they were all sharp angles and deadly quick motion, and they exuded a savage predatory air that reminded me of those long ago Risen, but there was difference that I noticed almost immediately.

  They were smarter. They did not come at me in one big unthinking cluster, which would have made it easy for me to fell them in one stroke, but rather in a loose group that fanned out to encircle me. Before I could even do so much as make a move, they had completed their maneuver, and I found myself alone amidst the pack as I stood in the weedy, rubble-strewn narrow path that used to be Ocean Drive.

  I glanced around for any potential help, but it was a forlorn hope. The community had gradually moved farther westward into the fortified settlements of what used to be Coconut Grove and Coral Gables, and if there were any other people nearby I could not see them.

  To the east was a long stretch of beach and sand, and then the wide ocean, and I knew there would be no escape for me there. The beasts would run me down before I could get to the water, and if I did make it, the salty ocean was no barrier to the Risen. And to my other side was a rundown structure with three vertical sections that had a row of raised letters along its front which spelled “T E CAR E”, but which I knew had once proudly proclaimed The Carlyle.

  I made my choice. I run towards the creatures that blocked the way to the old hotel-turned-condominium, and stiff-armed the first one that got in my way, a swarm of nanite rushing past the epidermal cell layers on the flat of my palm to embed themselves in the creature's tough hide. In the next few microseconds, I knew that the nanites would start rapidly multiplying and digesting the doomed Risen, and that it would soon keel over as its structural integrity was suddenly crippled from within.

  But it did not drop. This was such an unexpected occurrence that I stood paralyzed for a few heartbeats trying to figure it out. I had never encountered any Risen that had remotely been resistant to the attacks of the nanites bequeathed to us by Richard so long ago, although it did recoil from my touch. This created a temporary opening for me to slip past it and away from the ring of Risen, who were still for just a moment, as if in sympathy to their stricken comrade.

  I rushed inside the lobby. The entry doors had long rotted away, and the corridors that led deeper into the structure looked menacing and completely devoid of light, but I didn't hesitate. I plunged recklessly along one passageway, heedless of any unseen obstacles that may have littered the ground. Behind me I heard the staccato click of claws on broken concrete as the Risen finally started moving again towards the building.

  Suddenly, the path that I had chosen led to an enclosed hallway with no other exits. A bank of two closed elevators loomed to one side, but the long dead electric doors were not accessible even to my nanites. For better or for worse, this tiny cramped space was going to be the location of my last stand.

  I whirled around to confront my pursuers. The narrow corridor gave me some advantage in that they could not outflank and surround me, but that didn't negate the fact that I was now trapped, and that I would have to subdue a half dozen or so Risen who were somehow immune to nanite attack.

  I glimpsed several shadowy figures enter the corridor at the far end. They moved slowly, warily, their looming forms bent over due to the low ceiling, their elongated heads bobbing slowly up and down and moving side to side, as if sniffing the air for hints of their prey. The old Class 1 would have rushed heedless into the dark, but these were cautious. They had brains enough to be careful about their own lives.

  And they weren't totally immune to my nanites!

  I noticed the difference immediately. The last figure in the group was seemingly in some distress. Unlik
e the others, it was bent more deeply, and the creature's steps were awkward, almost uncoordinated. One of its arms hang loosely by its side, and as it got closer I could see that the arm had withered and hung by a thin thread of flesh to its socket. Pustules had broken out all over its body, and as I looked a tremor run through it and the creature collapsed against one wall.

  I shouted at the slowly encroaching group. They hesitated, then stopped their approach. I could sense that they were wondering whether to rush me, and I was determined to take as many of them with me as I could.

  One of them stepped forward and I lunged at it. Instead of avoiding my rush, it welcomed me with wide open arms, and I rammed both fists deep into its chest, my nanites dissolving and liquefying hard carapace and internal organs alike as they swarmed out of me in the trillions.

  “Bitch,” the thing said in a sibilant whisper, and I was again shocked into a surprised stillness. No Risen had ever demonstrated the ability to speak before, and as it fell onto its knees, then toppled forward, some of its thorny spines pierced my skin.

  A coldness swept over me. I could feel a wave of numbness spread from the breach points as an onrush of invading nanites broke through my outer defenses. One of the spikes had grazed my forehead, and I could feel one side of my face go slack as the horde of invaders managed to temporarily overwhelm the nanites and penetrate parts of my nervous system.

  I panicked at that point, but I could already feel the defenders rallying as their vastly superior numbers made the difference. It was only a matter of time before I would be thoroughly cleansed from the sudden infestation. I pushed against the bulk of the fast-dying Risen and it rolled off to one side like so much dead weight. Its flesh was fast becoming a cauldron of spewing gasses and deflating organs as the nanites spread ravenously throughout its body.