The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey

by Millerson, Brady

  The final meals from their packs were little more than morsels of left over items that they had rationed off during the past few days. As this was hopefully to be the last night that they would need their gear, they emptied their packs of most of the necessary contents, ammunition and fire starters, and folded up and buried everything else.

  The Savior had, several hours ago, fallen over the horizon when John and Sofia finally prepared themselves mentally, as well as physically, to the abandonment of the ruins, making the final journey into the launch base. Placing their rifles across their backs, they began taking their first steps towards the true unknown.

  “Before we head that way, maybe we could gather up the tools that those men left behind,” John whispered. “We might find something of use.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Sofia agreed.

  Their hands were groping through the thick powder, feeling around for the pile of equipment that they had seen the workers leave behind earlier in the day during their alcoholic bingeing. But it was difficult to locate with any precision the whereabouts of the gear within the dark, ash-blanketed environment.

  After a minute of digging around, John was ready to give up when Sofia suddenly exclaimed, “Here. Look what I found.”

  Pulling up a leather utility belt, she handed it over to him. It was quite heavy and burdened with tools. While John held it in the dimness of his cupped lamplight, inspecting its contents through what little illumination filtered from between his fingers, Sofia pulled up another item. It was a rather small, rectangular object with a dangling cable protruding from one end. Pocketing a screwdriver, John could see that Sofia had found something of potentially great importance.

  “What do you have there?” he asked.

  “A machine of some type, I think,” she said, holding it out for him to take.

  Examining it under the light, John could see that it was the computer apparatus that the technicians had used when they were working on the mainframe security systems. Finding a switch on the side, John brought the screen to life in a blazing blue aura that he immediately covered up with his hand before powering it down to the state that they had found it in.

  Placing it in his shirt pocket he said, “I think I’ll hold onto this. We might actually have some use for it later.”

  “Do you know how it works?” Sofia asked in amazement.

  “Well, no,” he answered. “But I’m sure we can figure it out if we need to.”

  Just outside the fenced perimeter of the launch area, John and Sofia remained prone positioned and motionless, camouflaged under their ashen cloaks, their faces masked by the cloth coverings John had fashioned for them. The chain link fence, less than a meter out of their reach, appeared somewhat flimsy and poorly constructed. John was not able to recognize its quality while he was stationed on the hilltop earlier in the evening, but it was still the only thing separating them from accessing the base. Several hundred meters to the northeast, they could see that the Highway terminated at, what was probably, a heavily guarded gateway.

  The compound was teeming with activity. Men and women, clad in orange suits, with hard hats, goggles and sound deadening blue ear protectors, worked like robots on an assembly line, objective and cold.

  Manned, forked transporters loaded and unloaded the erectly standing, missile shaped vehicles stationed on the launch pads with incredible efficiency. Lifting and unloading the uniformly shaped, wooden boxes with effortless motions, the crate-filled forklifts were driven to one of several warehouse terminals. Their boxes, peculiarly stencil-marked Blue, were scanned by a technician with a handheld apparatus reminiscent of the retinal scanners from the apartments of Labor. Afterwards they were sent on their ways to various other areas of the base.

  Working in opposition to the off-loading teams, other crews simultaneously reloaded the air-transporters with various sized crates, stenciled upon their sides with their respective destinations. Upon the scaffolding that was wheeled alongside the airships’ hulls, men were hastily inspecting and documenting the integrities of the fuselages, while the technicians were laboring with the welding and wiring of the internal and external systems.

  With the same handheld computer of which John hid in his pocket, he and Sofia observed a technician plugging his machine into the access port just outside of the loading bay doors of the nearest pre-launch vehicle. As the man moved his gloved fingers across the screen, the metallic grind of the gears began to roll, the massive steel door began its slow descent and the engines of the airship fired-up, churning in unison with the flashing yellow lights and blaring horns that surrounded the launch pad.

  As the scaffoldings were wheeled away by unseen operators, the doors and panels of the airship were sealed shut, and the roaring of the vehicle elevated, reaching an intensity that caused Sofia and John to cover their ears. The launch area was cleared. And in a flash of flames and smoke, it took to the air, riding upon its southwesterly trajectory.

  For at least an hour, the couple watched dozens of launches and landings, each one identically executed as the first. As one vehicle distanced itself to a comfortable degree for them to remove their hands from their ears, another began to make its descent onto the unoccupied pad. As it touched down on the concrete slab, concealed within a billowing cloud of smoke and agitated, airborne ash, another vehicle, from the distal side of the base to the north, began its fiery ascension closely followed by a transporter that was descending to take its place.

  The cloud of dust formed by the vehicle that just touched down was starting to settle out, and the grounded ship was becoming faintly visible. The bay door, already opened long before it was in view, was an important piece of data with which John was using to construct his plan. The forked vehicles were just starting to move into it: approximately sixty seconds of time from the moment the transporter made contact with the landing zone.

  After several dozen exchanges with ground control and the night sky, the pattern was beginning to become quite evident as to how the base operators were organizing the ships’ landings and launches. John began to see the opportunity at hand for them to infiltrate the base.

  “If we time it just right,” he whispered, “we’ll be able to climb the fence, hiding in the dust cloud. It looks like the airship’s door opens right when it lands. We have about sixty seconds before those forked transporters start moving into it. I think we can sneak in and hide inside one of the out-going crates.”

  “And then what?” she asked, incredulously, overtly displaying with her tone her thoughts on the foolishness of his plan.

  “Well, I don’t know just yet. We can figure it out when the time comes.”

  Sofia stared at him in disbelief. She didn’t blink. She just stared.

  “Do you have a better idea?” he asked.

  “Sure. I was thinking we could-,” she began to say.

  “We’re not going home yet,” John interrupted.

  Looking back at the launch pad, Sofia was beginning to wonder what the purpose was. What was it that John was hoping to obtain from any of this ridiculousness, she thought.

  “Alright,” she said with a sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”

  As the nearest vehicle had just landed, placing it in the back of the line for lift-off, John knew it would be a few minutes before it would be prepped and ready for launch. Moving up the line of concrete pads in a northerly fashion, the missile-like structures were synchronously arriving and departing from the base with uniform precision.

  As the last rocket arose to the sky, John began to crawl closer to the fence with Sofia in tow.

  “Are you ready? It’s almost our turn,” he said looking back at her.

  “Just give me the word,” she responded unenthusiastically.

  Walking up to the bay-door, terminal port, the technician plugged his computer in and waited for the forked transporter to make its final exit.

  “Get ready, girl,” he whispered.

  Even in the cold, drops of sweat we
re trailing down John’s forehead, dripping off of his brow. The perspiration darkened the edge of the cloth, facial covering at the folded rim that crossed his cheekbones. The bizarre creation of exposed flesh, blackened with moist soot that was partially washed away by the streaming liquid, and the staggered, ashen stripes, gave John the appearance of being scarred by a claw that had once torn his face.

  “I’m ready, John. Just don’t lose me in that smoke,” she said.

  Making its way out the bay door, the forked vehicle rolled down the ramp and into the nearest warehouse. With the transporter cleared, the technician moved his fingers across the computer’s screen.

  “As soon as I get over, I’ll wait for you. We need to keep our bearings in that smoke. Otherwise, we’re sure to get caught when the dust settles.”

  The engines began to churn. The bay door was closing, its gears grinding and wailing. Feeling the grip of Sofia’s hand at the tail of his shirt, John reached back and touched her one last time before the lift off. With the vessel set to take flight, those who had been working to load and unload it began dispersing to meet the needs of the next vehicle in line.

  “Are you sure you want to go through with this, John,” Sofia yelled, but her voice was drowned out by the intensity of the engine’s screams.

  Covering their ears, the flames began to glow with a beautiful white-blue brilliance. Bursting forth from its thrusters, there was a sudden flash of blinding light. The missile took to the sky, trailed by a plume of smoke, leaving in its wake falling ash and smoldering residue.

  It was with clockwork precision that the roar of the vehicle had finally made it outside the of the audible discomfort level, when the incoming vessel began to make its approach.

  “There it is, girl,” John said as they watched it drawing nearer.

  As the reverse thrusters began to scream, slowing its descent, Sofia could feel her heart pounding heavily within her chest. In a moment, its cloud would cover them. There was no turning back. John had set his mind to this course of operation. The responsibility would fall on him, but ultimately, the currently unseen effects, upon them.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The ash covering of the soil gave little, if any, cushion to the impact as Sofia hit the ground, tumbling to floor on the other side of the fence. With a loss of her awareness of the objects within her surroundings, her bearings of the physical world were wholly distorted. She stood up, blindly reaching out to John to no avail.

  The bright lights of the base dispersed in the chaotic swirl of fine particles and heat. Through her squinted eyes she found it impossible to discern the direction of the fence from which she had fallen, let alone the transporter that she needed to find her way to, hidden somewhere in the dense shroud.

  “John?” Sofia began to scream. Under the thundering power of the vessel’s engines her voice was inaudible, even to her own ears.

  “Where are you?” she continued to shout.

  The time allowance was falling away fast. Sixty seconds: that was all John said they had before the engines would cut out and the dust would start to settle. Sixty seconds, and she knew that at least thirty of them had already fallen to the past. Aimlessly taking a few steps ahead, her fingers pierced through the familiar metal links. She had found herself once again at the fence. She had gone the wrong way, and John was nowhere to be found! Twenty seconds.

  The squall of the engines had not died yet. There was still time. She had to think. The ship should be in the opposite direction of her current location. She needed to run. Ten seconds.

  Releasing her grip, she pushed herself forward. The transporter was out there somewhere. John must be waiting for her. Five seconds.

  Several steps into the run, stumbling over John, she met up with him as he fell to his back with the full force of her weight upon his chest. He may have been talking, but she could not hear his voice. Then, suddenly, the engines cut.

  “Where were you,” he said.

  “Me? Where were you?” she asked incredulously.

  Rolling over and climbing to their feet, John grabbed Sofia's hand, “I can’t believe this. We need to hurry.”

  The dust was beginning to settle out. The transporter was faintly visible in silhouette form against the burning exterior lights of the base. The bay-door gears were grinding. The door was still opening.

  As they reached the concrete pad, they could just barely make out the ramp as it unfolded from below the ship’s hull. The dispersed light from its interior illuminated their path.

  “We’re almost there,” John panted.

  Ascending the ramp, they entered into the storage bay coughing and exhausted. Cool and clear, the air was fresh in comparison to that from which they had just come, but there was little time to enjoy its refreshment.

  A ladder on the wall leading to a small, circular door on the ceiling indicated that there was another area above them. With little time left before their dusty cloak of concealment was gone, John ordered Sofia to climb.

  “Go faster, girl. They’re going to be here any minute,” he ordered.

  “I’m moving as fast as I can,” she said nearly losing her grasp.

  The vertical ascension was vertigo inducing as the narrow rungs and handles gave Sofia an insecure feeling at best. With no time to lose, she moved, hand over hand, foot over foot, as fast as she could, with John’s head keeping close to her heels.

  From over his shoulder John was able to get a good visualization of the outside environment through the airship’s threshold. The clarity in the features of the terrain was quite high. The dust had completely settled. By the sputtering of the engines of the forked machines John knew the workers were drawing near.

  As they reached the final rung John climbed up beside Sofia, securing her to the ladder.

  “Quickly, open the door,” he said with a panic.

  With her hands able to break free without fear of falling she let go, releasing her grip and further entrusting John with her safety. Grasping the handles of the door’s central locking mechanism overhead, Sofia rotated it around, swinging the door upward. Climbing into the blackness of the room above, she rolled out of the way making room for her companion.

  The first of the utility vehicles had just entered into the bay as John climbed inside. Quietly letting the door close and securing its lock, he felt around until he found Sofia standing beside him. The light of the lower compartment was drowned out. They were all alone in the dark.

  The miner’s light strapped around John’s head lit up the interior of the empty room with a brightness that was aided in large part by the reflective, sterile surface of the white walls of the transporter’s hull.

  “I believe this is the first storage room back home,” his voice echoed off the metal walls as he moved his light across another ladder, following its path to the ceiling.

  “Then the area below us is our home?” Sofia asked.

  “I think so.”

  “So, what are we going to do now?”

  John was not sure as to what the next move was that they should make. He had not anticipated how easily they could be spotted from within the light flooded storage area below. Knowing that they still had some time before their airship was scheduled for launch, he said, “I think we should see what’s at the top of this thing. By that time they’ll be finished reloading below. We should be able to sneak out and find a way further into the base.”

  “Maybe,” she retorted. “But we’d better hurry. I don’t want to be stuck in here when it takes off.”

  John knew by the muffled vibration against the wall that outside the scaffolding had just butted up against the transporter. They would have plenty of time to make it to the top and back down before lift-off, he thought.

  The climb to the next threshold was equally high, but not nearly as frightful as the previous ascension from the bay below. They were free to take each step with more caution, considering there was no one that they were attempting to flee from.

  O
pening the door above, they found themselves inside of another room with the same dimensions as the former, and containing the same sterility, as well. Back home, in the southerly forest, this was their second storage unit.

  After ascending another nearby ladder, the two of them found themselves in yet another identically sterile room with another ladder leading upward.

  “How many of these are there?” Sofia asked rhetorically.

  “This is so crazy,” John murmured. “What do they need all these storage compartments for if they’re not going to use them?”

  The illuminated circle emitting from his flashlight moved across the floor and ceiling revealing nothing that would hint at the purpose for the three empty sections of the airship.

  “We should probably keep moving,” Sofia encouraged him.

  John was certain that he would find something if only he had the time to search. He stopped his exploring long enough to comprehend the immediacy of her statement.

  “You’re right. We should probably hurry. Let’s see what’s in the next room.”

  Climbing through the door’s opening, they were finally presented with a smaller, but equivalently empty area. Approximately half the size of the former three compartments, its only other dissimilarity was found in the single, white table in the middle of the room, bolted to the floor at the base of its four legs. Another ladder on the opposite end of the wall led up to a short walkway that terminated at yet another metal door. Unlike the others below it contained a circular window above the wheel of its locking mechanism.

  “If there’s going to be any answers, we’ll probably find them in there,” John said.

  Not desiring to delay any longer, Sofia made the first move to the ladder and began the climb, followed closely behind by John. Pulling herself over the final rung, she ran to the door. Standing on the tips of her toes, the glass opening allowed her to see the individual chairs mounted to the walls, facing upward towards the ceiling. Beyond the fact that they were empty, there was nothing else of significance that she could determine from the limited view that the tiny window, and her short stature, would allow.