Arkadium Rising

by Glen Krisch

  Jason felt a tug on his shoulder as the water reached his armpits. He turned, seeing Marcus's frantic face. "Come on! Get moving!" His younger brother manhandled him to the stairs. "Look what you've done. You're going to ruin everything!"

  Marcus shoved Jason higher until they reached the upper landing. They entered a bedroom. Flowery pink wallpaper... stuffed animals... water spilling across the carpet as it breached the second floor...

  "Let's go, over there, out the window."

  Jason noted Marcus's still-confident smile as he forced the window screen and climbed out to the overhanging roof just outside. Jason was starting to shiver and his thoughts were jumbled. The grit of the roof shingles scraped his palms as he followed Marcus out the window. Marcus grabbed him under the arm and forced him to the roof's peak.

  Jason sat for a long time, fully expecting the water to reach the roofline and higher still, until it swept them away. But the water leveled off at some point, and the sun warmed his clothes and unclouded his brain.

  "You... you destroyed the town. Everything's just... gone."

  Marcus sat close to him, looking out as the water pushed by, debris flailing in the violent current.

  "And pretty much without a hitch, thank you very much. All except for your meddling."

  "All of that water... the Black Hawk never held so much water."

  "It did before man's interference. Dams upon dams for hundreds of miles have enslaved these waters, and we freed them one after another."

  "You won't get away with this."

  "Oh, but we already have. This little flood is small potatoes in the grand scheme of things. There are a thousand bigger events happening at this very moment around the world, all carried out by a thousand branches of the Arkadium; fires engulfing whole cities, explosions ripping apart transportation networks, floods like our very own washing away the filth of humanity. Every one of them synchronized to simultaneously destroy modern man's stranglehold on nature."

  Marcus had gone mad; Jason could see it in his eyes. Once and for all his brother had fully committed to his madness, throwing away all pretense of dabbling at his destiny. There was no way Jason could believe otherwise, no way he could possibly wrap his mind around what Marcus insisted about the fate of the rest of the world.

  "You're crazy, Marcus. You know that, don't you?" He wanted to shake him, shake him until the fillings dislodged from his teeth. Jason's fists tighten at his sides.

  "Remember when we were kids..." Marcus said as he checked to make sure his cell phone still worked. His eyes gleamed with happiness as he turned his gaze to the water. "The best day of the year wasn't Christmas, but the 4th of July. There was always a noontime picnic, then baseball until it was too dark to see, and chasing lightning bugs all over the neighborhood, property boundaries meaningless. And when it was full-on dark, the sky blazing with a trillion stars in all colors of the rainbow."

  "Jesus... how did those people ever follow someone like you?"

  "I'm a great leader. It's true. Adam, the leader of the Arkadium, glimpsed my talent, got me clean, helped me find the right path."

  "You, a leader? More like a mass-murderer." Jason thought about the people he'd left behind downstairs. With dozens of homes in Concord, there could be hundreds of people bound, dead and dying just within the surrounding blocks.

  "Look around, brother. This is my doing," Marcus said and checked his cell phone again. "One minute."

  "One minute until what?"

  Marcus said nothing, but he stood and braced himself against the canting of the roof, raising his hands high above his head as if awaiting the clouds to fall on him like cotton candy.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Look! What perfect timing." Marcus pointed toward the horizon. A passenger jet arced into view, trailing a white vapor trail across a perfect patch of blue. "I bet that's a flight heading for Chicago."

  Jason stood, his legs shaking.

  "Just watch. Bear witness with me. It's just like the best day of the year, but better. It's the best day ever. The best day of all humankind."

  Jason looked to where Marcus stared at the sky. The dusk of early evening seemed to tremble as if in direct reaction to their attention. Yellow-gray waves coursed across the horizon like ripples in water. One wave crashed into another, taking it into its fold, growing larger, impacting more and more of the sky.

  "Always remember, brother, I love you."

  A piercing whiteness suddenly exploded in the sky, sending deltas of lightning cascading down as far as the eye could see. The white ball bloomed wider, its brightness no longer blinding, but still an enormous bright globe, a second moon, a satellite of white-hot flame.

  Thunder rained down on them in the lightning's wake. It pummeled Jason, jarring the air from his lungs and popping his eardrums. He fell to his stomach and covered his ears, screaming against the calamity. He screamed himself hoarse, but the noise was so profound he couldn't hear his own voice.

  After a minute, or maybe ten, it was hard to tell exactly how long, the thunder eased before quieting for good. Jason opened his eyes and saw Marcus in a similar position next to him, but he still wore that same ecstatic smile. The glimmer in his eyes reminded Jason of those earlier days when he would come across his brother doped to the gills.

  "What the fuck?" he said, his voice sounding distant to his own ears.

  "EMP."

  "What?"

  "EMP: Electro Magnetic Pulse," Marcus said, as if Jason would have any idea what that meant. "It's created by exploding a series of nuclear devices high up in the atmosphere. And look, it worked!"

  Marcus pointed again to the sky. The passenger jet's contrail had been scattered by the EMP's explosion. While the jet remained overhead, its nose now pointed down and it was in total free-fall. It fell at tremendous speed until it disappeared over the trees in the hilly distance. Jason couldn't hear a crash, but he saw a flash of an explosion and black smoke rising into the sky.

  "How did you...?"

  "I've come a long way in the last couple of years, but the EMP has nothing to do with me."

  "Then who?"

  "There are members of the Arkadium at the highest levels of power across the world. You see, we would've never been able to tear down civilization from the bottom rungs of society. We had to have access to the greatest technologies, even though we despise it." Marcus took out his cell phone and placed it in Jason's hand. "See for yourself."

  The phone display was blank. He hit the power button and nothing happened. "It doesn't work."

  "It's just an artifact now." Marcus took back the phone and threw it as far as he could. It splashed into the floodwaters and disappeared. "Electronics, that's all a part of history now, brother. Can you understand how important this step is for humanity?"

  "What about Mom and Dad?"

  "They're most likely dead. St. Louis isn't there anymore, if everything went as planned. Besides, if I'm to carry on and be the leader of my people, I can't have them a part of it. They are old and weak. Trying to save them would most likely kill me in this new world."

  Jason coiled his hands into tight fists and punched Marcus in the gut. His brother staggered back, out of reach of a second blow. He had to lean over with his hands on his knees, but the punch didn't have the impact Jason had hoped for. If anything, it had only made Marcus mad.

  "Jason," Marcus said as he caught his breath, "there's no need for that. You're here for a reason. It doesn't matter how I got you here, but only why I chose to include you in my plans."

  "Fuck you," Jason said and charged his brother.

  Marcus sidestepped Jason and pushed him down against the gritty shingles. Jason skidded down the canted roof until he reached the edge. His body tumbled over the side, and at the last instant, he was able to grab hold of the gutter.

  "Jason, no!" Marcus called out and followed after him, his desperate face appearing above Jason. "Damn, I thought I'd lost you."

  Jason looked at the black, muddy w
ater rushing by a few feet below him. He saw cars bobbing like oversized fishing tackle and a good-sized tree uprooted and carried by the flow.

  "Give me your hand!"

  "Fuck off, Marcus."

  Jason looked down, ready to jump. He didn't know if he could survive in the choppy current. He didn't know if he cared at this point.

  "Please, Jason, I need you!"

  The metal gutter cut into his hands, raking the wound inflicted by the lawnmower blade. Did that really happen just this morning? Had the world really ended in the last twenty-four hours?

  Jason reached for Marcus's offered hand. His younger brother, always bigger and stronger than him, easily lifted him back to the roof.

  Jason trembled, exhausted, both physically and mentally.

  "I'm sorry about this, Jason, but time is short and I still have a few things to wrap up."

  Jason looked up in time to see his brother's fist a split-second before it collided with his cheek. He felt the blunt impact, and the world lit up like the best day of the year, and the world started spinning, and then he was falling, and it felt like the roof was rising up to meet him. It brought with it the black void of unconsciousness.

  Chapter 5

  Jason woke thirstier than he could ever remember and his exposed skin stung with sunburn. Blisters popped painfully across his lips when he tried to lick them and his head hurt like the worst possible hangover. It wouldn't surprise him if Marcus had given him a concussion. He looked up, the yellow gleaming sun bringing tears to his eyes. It felt like late morning. He'd been out for hours.

  The air smelled of dead fish and decaying vegetation. His sour stomach grumbled in hunger. He looked down from the guttered roof. The water had receded during his sleep, leaving behind large puddles and residual mud that stained the walls two stories high. Debris littered the muddy ground, mostly unrecognizable junk from his vantage point. Debris that had been cherished possessions not so long ago.

  He crawled inside the open window, falling onto the frilly mud-streaked bed. The dead girl's bedroom. Gabby. He'd nearly forgotten about the family, then recalled the welcome sign he saw when he and Delaney entered town. Population 1573. He wondered how many people had survived.

  The carpeted stairs already smelled musty, on the verge of mold. He covered his nose with his hand to block out the stench as he rushed to the door, hoping he wouldn't see three bloated, hogtied corpses piled in the corner of the living room. He didn't want to think about how he'd failed to save them, how he had barely made an effort at all.

  Luckily, he didn't see them as he managed to stumble outside. He felt woozy and closed his eyes as he leaned against the doorframe. After a few moments of fighting off his nausea, he felt somewhat confident he wouldn't vomit.

  When he looked up, he saw a handful of people gathered on a porch across the street. They stood around Marcus, who sat in a salvaged dining room chair.

  Jason walked across the street, without fear of what they might do to him. Marcus wouldn't hurt him. After all, his brother had saved him twice since he destroyed the dam.

  "You're going to be put away for a long time for this."

  The bearded man who had blessed the water leaned over and spoke into Marcus's ear. His brother waved him away.

  "You really need to adjust your mindset. You might think I'm crazy, but in the right light, any weakness can be seen as a strength."

  Delaney sat on the ground next to Marcus, resting her arm on his thigh.

  "You're no different than the society you've always railed against."

  "'If thy eye offend thee, pluck it out.' What you have witnessed is the correction of a ten-thousand-year mistake."

  Jason stood and stared at Marcus, not recognizing him, unable to understand any of this, unable to connect one of his brother's comments to the next.

  "You're a terrorist, Marcus. A murderer."

  Marcus stood up, waving off the security of his followers. "I prefer the term liberator. Liberator of humanity, or better yet, of nature. Because humanity is nothing more than one facet of nature, one facet no more important than pond scum or wild flowers."

  He placed a hand on Jason's shoulder, guiding him. They left the yard, walking down the ruined street of this once idyllic neighborhood. Shattered tree trunks were scattered about like discarded toothpicks. Mud caked every surface. "Look at this new fertile plain," Marcus said, gesturing broadly. "We will build sod huts and forage. We will stalk game and grouse in the soil for roots and rushes. We will live as God intended," he whispered into Jason's ear, his voice strong with his beliefs. With his insanity.

  "How can you live with yourself?"

  "Living is the entire point. Living within the system of nature, not dominating it and destroying it like a plague of locusts. The mistake man made ten thousand years ago? Do you know what that could possibly be?"

  "What could humanity have done to deserve this?"

  "It bit from the Tree of Life," Marcus said, sidestepping a sloppy network of mud puddles.

  "What, like Adam and Eve?"

  "Exactly! I think we're finally finding a middle ground. Here, let me explain. The Bible is fiction and myth. Adam and Eve, the Book of Genesis? That's a myth, too. But all myth is based on fact. The Tree of Life is merely a symbol. And biting into its symbolic fruit is the darkest moment in human history."

  "You're starting to lose me."

  "The Arkadium are descendants of that first couple, and their son, Abel. The rest of man descends from the Cain branch. The Arkadium have kept the story clear of myth and embellishment as they've passed it down for thousands of years. The symbolic Tree of Life is nothing more than the concept of man learning to domesticate plants. The moment when man left behind hunter-gatherer society and took up an agrarian one. Taking of that tree was the beginning of our end, the moment when we stepped away from a role that kept us in harmony with nature since our Genesis."

  "If this is true, why have the Arkadium taken you in? Why have they made you one of their leaders?"

  "Adam, the leader of the Arkadium, saw in me a certain skill, a skill that would translate well to the next stage in humanity.

  "Members of the Arkadium all possess survival skills that they've honed in private for this great time of change. Our numbers include military snipers who have sharpened their skills on weapons made of sinew and sapling. There are traditional doctors who are now homeopaths steeped in the knowledge of poultices, herbal remedies and faith healing. A multitude of artisans are now able to practice long-forgotten survival skills out in the open, and they'll be able to pass on their knowledge to their children. Some have practiced for decades in silence for this day."

  "And what is your skill?" Jason asked.

  "People do what I tell them to. Strip away everything else I've done in my life, that is what I've always been good at. People listen to me, whether they're KKK kids or PTA parents."

  "And what about me? Why not let me die like everyone else?"

  As they walked, Jason took in the destruction a little bit at a time. Seeing everything all at once would be too much.

  "All those people, everyone who's perished in the last day and in the coming days? They will be quickly forgotten. According to the Arkadium, there will be no more written word. Oral tradition will rise from the ashes of our former media."

  Jason stopped in his tracks. If Marcus was speaking the truth, then there was no place for him in this world. He realized how obsolete he had instantly become.

  "Unless, and this is where you come into play, unless you control the written word. It used to be that the victors in war controlled how it would be remembered. Now, if one person controls the written word, they control everything."

  "Marcus, I can't—"

  "What's done is done. There's no turning back. You can't worry about the past. If you do anything more than think about the source of your next meal or where to find shelter, you will die. Stand with me, Jason. The ties between us have been strained for far too long."


  "You want me to be your historian?"

  "Not my historian, the only historian. Of course, no one must know. No one would understand."

  As they walked, circling back to where they'd left Marcus's people, their conversation sank in for Jason. Even in a cult forcing the world to its knees, Marcus had figured out a way to be even more devious. When they reached the group, a man handed Marcus a bundle of cloth.

  "So, what is your answer?"

  "No, never. I will not stand with you. I will not do your bidding. These people may live and die based on your word, but I'm immune. I've always been immune."

  "I was afraid you'd say that." Marcus opened the bundled fabric and revealed a crude-looking knife.

  "So, what, after everything, you're going to kill me?"

  "No, not if I don't need to. And simple threats won't do, either. I know you. You can be quite stubborn."

  Marcus grabbed Delaney by a fistful of her hair and pulled her in front of him. She cried out in pain, but then she looked over her shoulder at Marcus, an adoring gleam to her eye.

  "What the fuck, Marcus!"

  Marcus pressed the blade against Delaney's throat. Her expression never wavered; if anything, her trancelike gaze became imbued with lust. He pressed the blade against her skin, and beads of blood bloomed across the knife's edge.

  "Join me, brother!"

  "Marcus, please don't. She has nothing to do with this." Jason saw the look in her eyes, her dedication to Marcus unflagging even as he threatened to kill her. He couldn't help having feelings for her, and the jealousy he felt toward his brother.

  "She has everything to do with this. And so do you. Join me, Jason, or her death will be on your hands."