by Jason Letts
“I see,” Gloria said, appearing ashamed. “I came to you because I’m pretty sure the end is coming. Nobody is going to make it through this, and I didn’t want my life to end before I could touch someone with love. All those times I thought I was happy pushing people away, it was all a mistake. There just seems to be so little happiness out there for someone like me. You’re the only one here. Can I…please touch you?”
Aoi nodded her head and Gloria pulled loose the straw tie of one bag and then the other. She slipped her hands out, revealing her green sopping fingers. Little poisonous droplets dribbled down into the dirt.
“Are you ready?” she asked, displaying both excitement and fear.
Aoi held out her hand, and Gloria took it. Their fingers intertwined, and it gave them a ticklish thrill. The oozing goo smeared over Aoi’s hand, but she felt only a warm sensation. Bringing her other hand to the back of Aoi’s, Gloria’s eyelids fluttered closed and she started to choke up.
Obviously ashamed at indulging in something she’d wanted for so long, Gloria hesitantly put her hand to the side of Aoi’s head. She touched her hair and let her fingers drag down her forehead and temple, cupping her cheek in her hand. Green tears trickled down her face and she sought to hide them by burying her face against Aoi’s shoulder.
“It’s going to be alright,” Aoi whispered to her. “It’s never too late to make amends. There are more ways to make a connection with someone than gifts in the web. Just never give up hope, and never be afraid to share it.”
She could feel Gloria nodding her head against her shoulder.
“How did you get to be so smart?” Gloria asked, trying to hold back her tears.
“I’ve been around smart people,” she said, thinking of Mira, Vern, and the rancher. An image of her old mentor came to her, sitting in a rocking chair on his porch and looking at the clouds. “The rancher taught me so much, even when I didn’t want to learn anything. I never would’ve known who I was without him, and that makes him one of the most precious people to me.”
Over Aoi’s shoulder, Gloria peeked through the folds into her tent. A pair of legs stretched into view. They hadn’t moved the entire time she’d been there. After one last sniffle, Gloria sat back up, savoring her last moment of contact.
“I heard about Mira. Hope she gets better soon. I know she’s had it tough too,” she said.
Aoi turned her eyes to Gloria, appreciating her sentiment.
“There’s nothing we can do for her. She’s got to decide for herself if she wants to come back to us. I only wish she’d make up her mind soon. Watching her whither away has been heart-wrenching.”
Some people started to walk toward them from down the pathway. Gloria snapped to her feet, cleared her throat, and tried to steady herself. But before she left, she offered a very sincere thank you. Aoi smiled in reply.
The only people who slept well that night were the ones sealed inside a sedated eternity. Amongst everyone else, only the Shade Commander enjoyed the fitful visions preceding what was sure to come. For the rest, an unbearable dread floated in their minds like a buoy, dangling a fishhook down into the current of their thoughts and snagging every fearful idea their imaginations sent downstream.
The next day passed much like the one before. A palpable, tangible feeling of terror invaded their peace in every moment. Soldiers, regardless of rank, caught each other staring off at nothing in particular, haunted by the threat of the same unimaginable specter.
Vern and the other soldiers from Dustfalls Academy sat in their tent and watched every second slip away. As dire as the situation was, most of them couldn’t bring themselves to lift a finger in preparation for it. Mira’s body seemed a promise of what would come for them all. The only one absent was Rowland, and it was a great surprise when he returned that evening.
Sitting on their mats, they heard a commotion outside among the soldiers lounging in the street. Chucky leaned his head back to glance through the entrance and outright gasped. Scrambling to his feet, he jerked his head to urge the others to follow before slipping out.
“You’d better see this!”
Spilling onto the dirt pathway, they pushed to the front of a crowd forming around a walking suit of armor. The smooth, bubble-like metal sheets covered every inch of its wearer. Including the helmet, it looked exactly like the armor Pyrenee wore. Only the black, metallic color and a slightly larger size differentiated it from the original. It even had an identical looking sword to match.
Even though it had a different color, the sight of this armor aroused painful memories in the soldiers. The reminder of countless lost friends and old wounds followed this armor into their own backyard. From somewhere to the left, a heavy stone flew and struck the armor. A brick came a moment later, knocking its wearer off balance.
“Hey, cut that out!” Rowland yelled.
He started to remove the helmet, peeling away the metal so he could slip it over his head. They had known he wasn’t the brown-haired girl who could float into the sky and disappear at will, but he evoked their rage just the same. Between their past regrets and apprehension for the future, they couldn’t stop themselves from treating him like the object of their fury.
Seeing his friends, Rowland jumped forward to avoid more rocks and ducked back into their tent. While Roselyn quieted them down from the entrance, the rest marveled at his new wares by candlelight.
“I may not be good at creating stuff like Mira, but I can make a copy like no one else,” Rowland gloated.
“Maybe a little too good. They were ready for blood out there,” Vern said.
“They’re just jealous is all. Can’t say I blame them. Not only will this come in handy, it might just dig into that heartless witch a little. She’ll have a twin now whether she likes it or not.”
Rowland chuckled as he spoke, admiring his own work enough to resume some of the old swagger he had. A few of the others were ready for a change of mood and enjoyed his confidence, but not everyone saw cause to rejoice in his creation.
“It’ll come in handy for you, but what about the rest of us?” Will scowled as he leaned against a tent post.
“This took me a long time. Do you expect me not to use my power? You’d have done the same thing,” Rowland defended soberly.
“I’d expect you to give us all a hand. We’re gonna be out there now with just this fabric on our backs. How do you think we’re gonna fare?”
“It looks like you forgot I made you a knife. It’s good for more than chipping at your bones, in case you didn’t realize that yet,” Rowland spat back it him.
“Do you want me to thank you? I’m so happy I have this. Do you want it back?” Will feigned, pulling the knife from his pocket and gripping its handle. He took a threatening step forward. The knife looked puny compared to the sleek sword Rowland held out.
“Man, what are you doing? You’d be a fool to go up against what I’ve got.”
“Exactly,” Will said, backing off and flashing a furtive smile. He put the knife back in his pocket and returned to the tent pole.
“Everybody just calm down,” Vern stepped in. “A stronger Rowland is good news for all of us. If we’re all pulling together, and he can take a little bit more slack, that’s fine by me. The end game is we all make it through alive. That’s what we’re fighting for. Now let’s get some sleep. We’ve got to stay rested, healthy, alert.”
Mary rolled onto her side and sought refuge in Roselyn’s arms. She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed.
“Just never leave me. I can’t have you leave me,” she shuddered.
“What a terrible day it’s been. Our hearts will never forgive us,” Roselyn said, removing the blue topaz from under her uniform and squeezing it. “How could the fighting be worse than the waiting?”
“It’s got to be tomorrow,” Aoi asserted, the candlelight dancing on the strands of black hair that curved around her face. “I can just feel it. It’s going to be tomorrow, and then we’ll know what hap
pens when it disappears.”
“When what disappears?” Mary asked.
“The glue that holds the world together.”
“My dad told me something once,” Chucky began. “He said the web shines brightest after there’s a disaster or a battle, something where a lot of people die. All of those little pieces of nature floating away and waving their see-you-again’s to the world. If it’s true, I wonder what it’ll look like tomorrow night. Maybe it’ll shine so bright it’ll look like the night hadn’t even come at all.”
“Let’s hope not, Chucky. In all of the possible outcomes, there’s got to be one where everybody realizes it’s just not worth it,” Roselyn said.
Vern blew out the candle and slid onto his mat. He reasoned he’d sleep better tonight because of how poorly he slept the previous night. Still, he wouldn’t bet on it.
“I love you,” Mary said in the darkness, her voice trembling. “Someone please, please just say it back.”
Everyone said it back.
Chapter 11: Apocalypse
A blaring alarm ripped them all from sleep just before dawn. Sprinting footsteps flew along the path outside. Scrambling to their feet and incensed by the deafening alarm, they jumped around and ransacked their belongings for things they would need. Written, glowing instructions magically appeared against the side of the tent. “East Theater,” it read.
“What do we do? What do I take?” Mary cried, looking down at the mirror and makeup hanging out of her bag. She ended up stuffing them both into her pockets.
“What do we do about her?” Aoi asked Vern, gesturing to Mira.
“We can’t leave her alone. We’ve got to take her with us,” he said.
Aoi motioned to lift her, but Vern stepped in and put Mira onto his shoulder. Behind them, Rowland grabbed his armor pieces and molded them onto his body. Will dug through his bag for the remaining healer hair. His hand settled on the black Sunfighters uniform for a moment until he stuffed it back in.
Mary plucked the metal lighter from her bag when Roselyn grabbed her and dragged her outside behind the others. All around them, tents expelled their soldiers, who took off to the eastern edge of base camp. Dawn would break at any moment, and then they would have the whole day to fight through.
Vern, Aoi, Roselyn, Rowland, Chucky, Mary, Will, and Mira’s unconscious body joined the flow of people rushing to the east. Looking around, they saw a few familiar faces jogging alongside them. Neeko and Gloria, both stone-faced leaders, jogged in front of a train of soldiers. Vern wanted to make some remark, but he couldn’t muster the confidence to be condescending. Now was not the time for petty squabbling.
Any moment they would turn and behold a wide-open view of the eastern wastes where they would meet their enemies. Legions of soldiers in tan uniforms spilled into the streets from all directions. Every single person in the camp had responded to the alarm.
Reaching the edge, they looked at the assembling force on the field below. The mob of thousands stretched out in each direction, blocking off the entire side of the camp. Just before daybreak, they faced the east horizon above rolling hills and saw not a single person. The massive wooden shield rested against the ground, ready to make its daily trip across the sky.
“Where are the Sunfighters?” someone asked, but they all clamored toward the sprawling field anyway. Just before they reached the bottom where the soldiers assembled, Vern set Mira down on a ledge. The others in his group stopped to watch him. After setting her in a small crevasse, Vern turned to look at his friends.
“Somebody has to watch her. Roselyn, you make sure nobody gets near. Just give her a chance to come back to us,” he ordered, catching one heart-broken glare. “And you too, Mary.”
Following his instructions, the two girls hopped over to Mira’s body on the outcropping.
“This is it. We’re here. Just like Mira said, there’s only one person we have to take out for this whole war to unravel. The Warlord is our target. Otherwise, the only thing we have to do is fight for our lives. Just stick together and help each other. If we thrash through this nightmare hard enough, our families won’t have to.”
Vern got a few nods for his short speech, but mostly they were too stunned by the situation to react. When he took a few more steps to the bottom of the hill, his friends followed him, and they joined the rabble of troops strung out in front of the camp. Their nerves kept them on their toes, and they struggled to get control of their breathing. Rowland kept his helmet off, so he wouldn’t draw any more misdirected anger.
Waiting, they cast their eyes along the row and back up at the slope. Like Chucky, who held Mira’s mace, many others carried bizarre weapons of their own design. They saw slingshots, boomerangs, and rope. A blob-like creature accompanied one soldier. Behind them, archers positioned themselves against the hillside. Down the ways, they could just make out the stone veranda from where Commander Carmichael watched.
More nervous and antsy than usual, Carmichael held his twitching fingers to his lip as he gazed across the plain. Only a few high-ranking lieutenants accompanied him; the rest settled into the sprawling army below. His head kept jerking to the left at the warehouse that stored his most precious weapons.
Any second the sapping sun would rise and it would all begin. The sky became a lighter blue and he imagined he could see the light drifting toward them. When the sun broke through the horizon, those not directly behind the shield immediately felt it filtering through their uniforms. The heat made them writhe and hide within their hoods.
“Show yourself, you unhuman garbage receptacle dung heap pubic louse. We’ve got your number this time. History will always remember how night toppled light,” Commander Carmichael babbled.
He crossed his arms, waiting for the enemy army to follow the sunlight to their front door. One of his scouts bobbed through the hills as he sprinted back. The soldiers saw him too, and they readied themselves for imminent combat.
“Not yet,” Carmichael said to his archers below in a voice much too soft for them to hear. “We haven’t been greeted by their captain yet.”
Just as he spoke, a subtle line traced itself through the air in front of him. Dangling above his head, it stretched and branched. The outline’s feminine shape took a step toward him, gradually shading and filling in the middle, detailing the contours of a helmet, two maniacal eyes, and a sly grin.
“You were just waiting for me to introduce you, weren’t you?” Carmichael leered at Pyrenee, whose armor became bright red.
“Course. You know I’m a sucker for a grand entrance,” Pyrenee mocked.
“Where is your keeper, girl? Does he still cower behind his fanatics?”
“Don’t worry yourself none about that, darling. He’ll show when the spirit moves him to,” she said, glancing at the assembled soldiers. “But it was sweet of you to give us such a warm welcome, even if you full well knows you’re gonna get wrecked.”
“You didn’t think I’d lay it all on the line without a few tricks up my sleeve, did you?” he glowered.
“I don’t care what’cha got stewing in your noggin’ there. It ain’t gonna make no difference for nothing.”
“Is that so? Well then maybe you’ll finally try your luck against me yourself instead of picking on the weaklings below,” he said, taunting her with a slight bow.
“Oh, you selfish prick. You know I can’t be doing none of that. I need to see the look on your face when you know all’s lost, and once I get it, that’s when I’ll come for you,” she smirked.
Ruffled, the Commander’s patience quickly wore thin. He took an abrupt step forward, ready to engage her, but she swept herself into the air, floating weightlessly before the veranda and giggling at him from above.
“Enough with your chatter! Let it begin,” he scowled.
Her laughter remained long after she had disappeared. The moment Carmichael turned away out of revulsion, the massive wooden shield burst into flames, spewing black smoke into the air. Carmichael set his
jaw and clenched his fists, having known it would come and yet hating to see it happen.
Flames engulfed the massive shield. It charred and crumbled, shedding pieces and collapsing onto itself. Once the last section standing finally toppled over, Pyrenee merrily skipped over it, her sword on her shoulder like a girl headed to school. For all her happiness, a far more dire sound erupted from behind her.
A massive congregation of black uniforms stampeded into view. Thousands of these despicable marauders poured over the rolling hills, the wind carrying their sickening smell to the Shade’s front line, whose soldiers gaped and moaned.
“I can’t believe there are so many of them. This is madness!” Chucky cowered.
“They mustn’t have left a single soul behind,” Vern said.
“Boys, don’t give up on us yet. We haven’t even started,” Aoi urged.
On the veranda, Commander Carmichael salivated at the sight before him. He stepped onto the hill sloping from the camp’s edge and took a spot alongside an archer in a nearby bunker. Giving in to the compelling need to inspire his soldiers, he cupped his hand to his mouth to broadcast his message into the early morning light.
“Don’t make your mothers regret giving birth to you! And remember, dying for a just cause makes your power stronger for its next reincarnation!”
The military leader returned to the veranda with a twirl, pleased and thirsty to watch the action. One of his lieutenants tapped him on the shoulder, disturbing him from his waking reverie.
“Sir, is that true about making your power stronger after you die?”
“Nah, I just made it up,” Carmichael laughed. “It sounds good though, doesn’t it? Maybe it’ll catch on after all this.”
An irritated expression formed on the lieutenant’s face, but the commander took no notice. While his speech had been rather short and admittedly fictitious, a sixteen-year-old girl in brilliant red armor had it in her to say a little bit more to urge on her decrepit band.