Wreckoning

by Lee Harding

  They stood a safe distance away as the flaming bonfire burned. The Guy caught fire and the crowd cheered with approval. Baby Stephen shielded his eyes as the costumed effigy was ripped in two and the structure became engulfed. Paula ensured his head was covered by his little blue hat and whispered assurances into his ear. He peeked out to watch children wave their sparklers to create anarchic shapes in the air. He spun to where his Aunt Alana stood. She was holding hands with a big man who was wearing a long coat.

  The first time they met the big man scared him. When he gave him some sweets Stephen decided he wasn’t that bad. He missed his Daddy, though. Mummy said Daddy still loved him but was living somewhere else now. He heard the big man and Auntie Alana laughing and snuggled into his mother’s arms.

  Alana was happy, happier than she had ever been. One year had passed since Wreckoning unveiled itself and her life was unrecognisable now. Gone was the reckless, hasty, and often grotty young woman. Now that her man was here she finally felt complete.

  Or should that be men?

  Michael smiled back at her then directed his gaze to the blaze. Alana squeezed his hand and he replied in kind. Their relationship was nearing its first anniversary which Alana counted from the day of that kiss in San Francisco. Their love had blossomed from a crisis, through a tragedy and flowered into full bloom.

  She remembered that fateful day of the third strike. They had almost succeeded. It haunted her that if she sought her father sooner everything could have been prevented. Michael consoled her saying things could have been much worse.

  “You try telling that to the million homes without gas or electricity, the families who can’t heat their food or children,” she told him.

  They had managed to secure four out of the six intended targets. Cameron himself had opted not to attack the fifth but the final one was too late to save. Hurtling along the wires at the speed of light, the combined might of a nation’s digital lifestyle stormed like a charging army. Battering down their defences, the power firm’s mainframe didn’t stand a chance. It was flooded in a microsecond and each plant in its network collapsed under the sheer weight Wreckoning had unleashed. Thankfully help was at hand. Britain revealed itself to not be so self-absorbed as Guy judged it to be. The public banded together to provide aid for those who needed it. Tales of heroic survival were broadcast on the television channels that remained on air. Staring the Black Death in its cruel face had united the kingdom unseen since the days of Winston Churchill. National pride was never more pervasive.

  Yet life had been challenging. The mass infected devices now lay redundant. The Hijax virus fried their circuits and massacred modern life in a digital heartbeat. Mobile phones, laptops, computer games; all lay dormant in their plastic coffins. But in a perverse way Alana enjoyed life without the noise and bright lights constantly vying for her attention. Going for a walk in Hyde Park to watch the geese glide onto the lake was infinitely more rewarding than tweeting. The promise of modern convenience was shattered like the illusion it was and relationships flourished as human beings began to talk face-to-face again.

  Ironically Wreckoning’s goals had come to fruition after all. Prime Minister Max Martin was unanimously re-elected as he helped harness the new spirit of the people to rebuild. He issued a full reform of the press and the judicial system, not to give credit to Wreckoning, but to prove to the world that Britain was unafraid in its quest to create a better society.

  The surviving members of Wreckoning awaited extradition. They spoke to the world’s press to share their story, which Alana found hilarious. They had been hired by the CEO of Hydra Security John McBride who threatened to hurt their families if they did not comply. McBride was subsequently arrested and a search of his office led the FBI to discover a colossal irregularity in Hydra’s accounts to the sum of $1 billion. McBride flatly denied all involvement and accused Wreckoning of stealing the money. He too awaited trial. Meanwhile, Hydra stock plummeted causing a tidal wave of economic unrest to join that from the closure of the London Stock Exchange. It would take years to rebuild but Britain was determined to rise from the ashes.

  Stephen let out a yawn.

  “I think it’s time for us to go home,” Paula said. She kissed her sister on the cheek. Alana touched her little nephew’s face as he closed his eyes.

  “I’ll call round tomorrow,” Paula said and waved goodbye.

  “When was the last time you both spoke to him?” Michael said as Paula walked to her car.

  “Three days ago.”

  After they had travelled home from Brazil the previous year Alana was unsure how to part with her father.

  “I can’t return to England. I’ll be arrested on the spot.”

  “But I won’t leave you again. There has to be a way.”

  “I’ll always be with you in here.” He pointed to her heart, “and in here,” then to her head. “I survived prison without seeing you or Paula because you were always with me. I will miss you more than you can know but I have to stay.”

  Alana wept for hours after the strike through sheer emotional exhaustion. She didn’t think she had any tears left. But her reservoir wasn’t completely dry.

  “I can’t remember the last time I said this but I love you.”

  “And I love you, my little princess.”

  They hugged and cried until Alejandra interrupted to hasten them to the airport.

  Alana promised not to tell anyone of Cameron’s secret new life, only her sister when she returned home. Michael took a lot longer to convince.

  “I know he’s your father but he’s a wanted criminal and needs to be brought to justice.”

  “Is he a wanted criminal? The police have the members of Wreckoning in custody. Also, Brazil is notorious for not extraditing their citizens, especially billionaires who probably have strings in the government.”

  “So you’re saying he should remain free?”

  “Cameron Faith is not a free man, Michael. His only reason for living was his family and he can never be with them again. That isn’t freedom. He paid for what he did with his life long ago and I believe he’s been punished enough.”

  “And if he hacks again?”

  “He won’t. I made him promise not to and I believe him.”

  It wasn’t easy to find a laptop that still worked but Michael procured an older model from Scotland Yard. Alana brought Paula round to her flat leaving Stephen with their parents. She carefully relayed everything that had happened. When the truth about Cameron was revealed Paula stormed out. She didn’t return for an hour. Time cooled her off and she sat and listened to everything that happened from London to North then South America. Alana managed to persuade her to stay while she connected to the Internet via satellite.

  That first video chat was fraught with emotion, culminating in Paula storming out again. Alana caught up with her as she was pulling out in her Land Rover and convinced her to give the man a chance. “He’s only human,” she said which meant more to her than ever.

  Since those difficult initial steps the daughters and father developed a new relationship based on honesty. Paula eventually let him see his grandson live for the first time. It wasn’t perfect but it was real.

  “We better be going.”

  Michael turned up the collar on his trench coat.

  “Afraid of a little chill, big man?”

  Alana playfully elbowed him in the gut.

  “Not when you’re with me.”

  Hands clasped together, Alana and Michael left the bonfire as one. Good days lay ahead.

  The Ebony Chest

  by Cameron Faith

  Once upon a time there were two fair maidens, sisters who lived near an ancient graveyard. Each afternoon, once they had milked the goats and swept their home, their mother gave them leave to go out and play.

  Through the tiny village they ran, Arianne the eldest always leading as her younger sister Paulette strained to follow. They passed by the other children and ignored the name callin
g until they reached the bubbling brook. The water swept around the protruding rocks that the girls hopped, skipped and jumped upon to reach the other side. They scrambled up the steep embankment, pulling themselves over the high ledge with their fingertips. From here the ruins of the chapel rose into the dark sky and behind it lay the haunted graveyard.

  It had been raining all morning so they hiked their skirts to their knees to plough through the mud. The downpour had been torrential and Arianne held onto Paulette as she slipped. They arrived at their favourite spot by the base of a mausoleum. It stood as tall as a tree, the grey marble split down the centre.

  “Touch the grave stone, Paulette.”

  Paulette hung back afraid of what might happen.

  “Don’t worry, death can’t harm you here,” her sister said and laughed. Then something caught her eye.

  An edge of a black wooden object was sticking up from the earth. At first Arianne believed it to be a coffin. She fell to her knees to inspect it. The box was too small to be a casket and as she dug around it began to move in her hands.

  “Come and help me,” she said but Paulette cowered away.

  With a forceful pull Arianne dislodged the strange box and tumbled backwards flinging it into the air. The box landed with a squelch in the mud. The girls cautiously approached it. The box was fashioned from ebony wood and its lid was curved like a small treasure chest. Odd markings were chiselled around the edges.

  “What do you think it could be?” Paulette said.

  Arianne’s eyes were wide with excitement. “Perhaps it’s a pirate’s plunder filled with golden bullion!”

  “But what if it’s dangerous? We should leave it alone and go back home.”

  “Nonsense. We’ll bring it back with us.”

  Arianne picked up the chest and hid it under her outer garments.

  “Promise not to tell anyone, especially Mother,” she said.

  Her sister reluctantly nodded in agreement and they ran back to the village as the rain began to fall.

  Later that night after their mother had tucked them into bed, Arianne slipped out from beneath the covers. She crouched under the straw-filled mattress and groped around. The moon light streaming through the window illuminated the ebony chest as she placed it on her pillow. Her sleeping sister stirred and sat up.

  “What are you doing, Arianne?”

  “Shh. You’ll wake Mother. I want to open this chest but there’s no lock for a key just these five little blocks.”

  She pushed one of the wooden cubes and it turned to reveal a different symbol on the other side.

  “Why does it do that?” Paulette said.

  “I think it opens the lid. Do you remember the story of the Egyptian pyramid Grandfather told us?”

  Paulette shook her head so Arianne recalled the tale.

  “The Pharaoh kings used to seal their tombs deep within their pyramids to prevent robbers from entering. They used a clever type of lock – blocks that could turn into a key.”

  “Does this work in the same way?” Paulette whispered.

  Arianne flipped the five blocks in turn but the chest remained shut. She bent closer to examine the shapes etched on each side. At first they appeared to be scribbles until by chance two slotted together to form the shape of a mouth full of rotten teeth. Arianne fiddled with the other blocks until the full face of a human skull was revealed. A click sounded like that of a released latch.

  “I think I’ve unlocked it.”

  “Be careful,” Paulette said and drew the bed covers under her chin.

  As Arianne was about to open the chest she noticed something written under the rim.

  BE WARNED, ONCE OPENED ALL WILL BE LOOSED. TRUTH BRINGS BOTH LIFE AND DEATH.

  The words of warning made her hesitate but only briefly. With a firm push she prised open the lid.

  Paulette whimpered, “What’s inside?”

  “Nothing.” Arianne was annoyed. “Absolutely nothing. The box is empty.”

  As she went to close it, she felt something float between her fingers like a gust of wind. It startled her so much that she leapt onto the bed to huddle beside her sister.

  The wind grew stronger, whipping round and round like a tornado, drawing in the dust in the room together. The white speckles formed into a terrifying shape – the appearance of a man’s face. His eyes were shut, his nose and forehead wide and flat, his mouth set and closed. Then his eyelids opened.

  “Who has disturbed my slumber?” came a growl as slight as a whisper.

  Paulette cowered beneath the covers of her bed, her knees knocking together. But Arianne was more bold and thrusting out her chest replied:

  “I did.”

  The lifeless eyes turned towards the eldest sister and the ghostly mouth soured.

  “You have read the warning but heeded it not. Regardless, you have released me until another takes my place. Speak child, what is your name?”

  “I am Arianne and this is my sister Paulette.”

  Paulette drew down the sheet a fraction to peek out at the unfettered spirit.

  “And who are you?”

  “I was once known as the King of the North until the day my body died.”

  “Are you a ghost?” Paulette gasped.

  “The mortal shell dies but the person moves on. Men call it a soul, a spirit, a ghost. I have been trapped in this chest until another wishes to be master of death.”

  Arianne came closer to the spirit. “Master of death?”

  “To the ones who open the chest a gift will be given. Say the word and the breath of life will be taken at your command; or restored, whatever be your will.”

  “Do you mean I could kill anyone I wish?”

  “That is true but the power of reuniting body and spirit is in your grasp too.”

  Arianne’s mind flooded with the vicious faces of all those she hated. The boys who called her names, the girls who tore her dress and laughed, the old crone who beat her for trespassing on her garden. Revenge was finally within her grasp.

  “Can I bring back someone from the dead?” Paulette said.

  “Only if your intentions are true and your heart is right,” the spirit said.

  Paulette held her sister’s hand. “We can bring back Father.”

  Arianne shrugged her away. “No we won’t. He deserves to remain in the grave.” She spoke to the hovering face. “Why is there a warning on the chest?”

  “Our decisions in life have eternal consequences. So too are our decisions to take life. Choose wisely how you will use your power for no longer will you control it but it will control you.”

  The outline of the spirit’s face faded as the dust crumbled to the floor. The last feature to fall was the mouth which echoed its final words:

  “It will control you.”

  Then all was silent and the lid of the Ebony Chest closed shut.

  The girls drifted into a deep sleep, one dreaming of light and the other of night. They were awoken by the rays of sunshine beaming through the window and the call of their mother to rise for breakfast. Once fed they went to clean out the stable and discuss the awakened spirit.

  “Arianne, did we share the same dream?” Paulette said.

  “It wasn’t a dream. The spirit was as real as you and me.”

  “Then we can give life to whoever we choose?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Arianne watched as a tiny caterpillar crept towards her. Its many feet bunched in arches like a band. Concentrating with all of her might, she focussed only on one word.

  “Death,” she muttered.

  The little creature froze in mid wriggle then flopped to one side as if its heart had suddenly stopped working.

  “I did it.”

  “You killed that innocent caterpillar,” Paulette said. Not wishing any innocent thing to die she spoke softly:

  “Life.”

  The larva wriggled as breath re-entered its body and it set off again on its journey.

/>   “This is wonderful,” Arianne said.

  “That the creature is alive?” Paulette asked.

  “Of course not. I have the power to kill all of my enemies. I will be unstoppable.”

  And with that Arianne raced out of the barn.

  “Wait.”

  Paulette grabbed her skirts then ran after her sister.

  She finally caught up with Arianne near the edge of the village. She was surrounded by a group of boys and girls who were already hurling insults at her.

  “What are you doing here, Ari-anne?” an older girl called out. “We don’t play with fatherless children.”

  “That’s right,” said a fat little lad with freckles. “Your father left because he doesn’t love you. Nobody loves you.”

  The other children laughed and called out horrible names as they danced in a circle around her. But Arianne didn’t cry or run away. She smiled then asked them a question.

  “Do you want to play a new game?”

  This made them stop. The podgy boy replied, “What game?”

  “It’s a game of two choices. If you win I will never come here again but if you lose you will never bully me or my sister.”

  The boy licked his dirty chops. “How do we play?”

  Arianne held out her arms and closed her hands into fists.

  “Choose one.”

  “But there’s nothing in them,” the boy said.

  “Choose,” she repeated.

  The lad came forward and slapped her left hand. Arianne uncurled her fingers to reveal it as empty.

  “You lose,” she said. With a wicked grin she stared into the boy’s eyes and hissed, “Death.”

  The fat face of the boy turned white and his body stiffened. Like a felled statue, he collapsed forwards to land lifeless in the mud. The other children screamed in terror and tried to flee but Arianne stopped them.

  “Don’t move,” she ordered. “The game isn’t done yet.” She pointed to the older girl. “You must choose also.”