A dull light blinked in the corner of that darkened room.
Marin tapped on the table, then began to type on the keyboard, invisible to the eye, forcing Marin to use his memory as to where each key was.
As he continued to type, his vision blurred, and he was placed somewhere else:
We can hear them now. For a long time we just believed what the screens were telling us: that the situation was under control. We saw the tanks roll into the city and figured that was the end of it. But then the reports stopped coming in.
Marin leaned back and placed a hand on his face, staring at that white glow.
I was just like everyone else. It was just a small mishap--there was no way they'd abandon us. Then, the message: stay inside indefinitely, or the worse might happen. And we knew. We knew because we could hear the screams outside. We were just so scared.
He could hear footsteps. This was an anomaly in and of itself.
Marin closed his eyes, trembling, then returned to the screen:
If it's like this everywhere, then there is no going back. The world will be completely different from the one we knew. If we are not ready to meet the task at hand, to get serious, then I don't think there's any way we'll survive.
"But maybe that's fine," Marin whispered, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his forehead.
Three sets of knocks, in quick succession: his neighbors', then Marin's.
Marin stared in horror.
"Get, the fuck out--now," croacked a voice so distorted Marin could barely make it out. "If you don't we'll blow the fucking doors open."
Marin ducked as he ran to the other side of his room. Not a long walk, admittedly; Marin's apartment was barely large enough to hold a single bed and desk. He rummaged through his belongings, grabbing a chip, his ORION sensor, and--thanking god when he found it--a gun; a pincer, made up in the heavens where gods toiled in their strange world of pale metal and light.
A snarl--an animal's snarl, Marin realized with increasing terror. He'd read and heard the rumors but he didn't want to believe them.
The doors boomed again. Marin shuddered.
He clicked the panel. At first, nothing, and Marin felt such a wave of dread pass over him he thought he'd faint, then a green light lit up and the door opened, a long, violent screech as the metal settled.
He was probably twice Marin's size, tilting his head down and staring with hollow glass-eyes, dark disks. There was another, armed with what looked to be a rifle; an older model, only using thermal needles, not the new-grade stuff they'd mined up on mars.
"Get out."
"I need to talk to the police."
"Shut up."
The man pointed down the hall.
Marin tried to seem downcast. The other one stepped to the side, a weird wheezing noise coming out of his gas mask. No person should breathe like that, Marin thought.
As he came downstairs dogs began shouting at him. Their eyes were very wide and it didn't seem like anyone was taking care of them. The men dressed in black stood around, waiting collectively. Like they were soldiers.
Marin wandered out, more out of sheer confusion than anything; no one had told him what to do or where to go. When he was outside, he stared in abject horror at the dead sky. Nothing could have prepared him for this moment. Marin realized that surely this was the actual end of the world, then wondered what that might mean.
"Move over there."
Another masked one, pointing at the ground. Marin obeyed. He still had his pincer; if they looked away from him he might try and use it--a hilarious prospect as Marin looked down at his shaking hands.
A strand of lightning, followed by a boom. Marin thought he had grown used to the tremors, but apparently he hadn't.
More people came out: a family, huddled together, wearing dark clothes. Then a couple young people, looking as if they hadn't slept in days.
"What the hell is this?" the father seethed, glancing at their captors.
"I don't know," Marin said. "They didn't tell me anything--"
"Where the hell are the police?"
"I don't know."
The father closed his eyes and sighed in frustration, the mother glancing at Marin then staring hard at the men in gas masks, gripping her son's hand with knuckles white.
"This is it," the younger guy said, huddling beneath the black jacket he wore. Above the sky churned, making Marin weak to his stomach.
Marin blinked. "What?"
"This is where they'll take our blood," he said. "It's how they filter out the poison from their bodies."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Look, I don't fucking know--it's just what I read."
The masked man Marin thought was the one who had first forced him into this hell came up and began speaking with his friends.
The father gripped the side of his head, his chest rising and falling. No one else seemed to know what to do or say.
"Does anyone have a gun?" the mother said, her voice cracking.
"Hey."
The masked man came up, aiming the nozzle of his machine gun. The mother put herself in front of the son, closing her eyes, waiting for that inevitable end.
"Stop talking," he seethed.
"Look, what are you going to do with us?" asked the younger man. The woman who had come out with him seemed so petrified she might break in half.
"You're going to do whatever I tell you to do. And if any of you people try anything, we'll shoot everyone else, then make sure you suffer for as long as we can. Don't fuck with us."
The woman wept, the masked one pausing and then telling the father, "If she isn't quiet soon, I will kill her."
The father, his face unnaturally white, took his family and held them close.
Marin had had enough.
"We just want to get to the military," Marin said. "Please: who are you people?"
The masked one watched him, for a time, his friend coughing into a glove.
"Get back and shut the fuck up."
Marin stood there, poised in the middle of the group, and wondered if he was going to die soon and what it would feel like.
It was hard to tell the time anymore; the sky was so dark. Finally, more of the masked appeared, filtering into the street.
"Form a line."
The mother wailed, the father telling her that she had to be quiet. For a sickening brief moment Marin through the masked would just shoot them. Instead, they fanned out, searching down the streets or checking alleyways. It reminded Marin of how a pack of wolves might hunt.
They began to walk, not under the snap of a whip but a dead sky, shuffling down and towards deeper, darker places of the city.
The mother shrieked in horror when they came to the first body. She was hanging from a wire. Marin could see more bodies up ahead. They sprouted here and there, like fungus, left behind to rot.
"Jesus Christ," the younger guy said. "What the hell happened?"
Marin didn't know why they were asking him questions. He didn't know anymore than they did. He figured it must be the implant, the sliver of medal running down the left side of his head.
"It's worse than we thought," Marin concluded.
"Yeah, no kidding. I didn't see anything like this on the news."
"Why would you?" the father spat.
"I mean--shit, I know we've been lied to before but this is a fucking apacolypse."
"Shut up," a captor barked.
They came to a large metal door. It was a slab, probably removed from a bigger machine, crude yet functional.
"Side by side--quickly."
Now they were lined up parallel to the door. Marin waited, wondering what might come out.
Overhead, a light streaked against the sky. Marin's heart began to beat fast. Surely they'd stopped sending the rockets.
Time passed. Marin watched the distance, too afraid to look upon that metal, blank face.
"This isn't working."
He was taller than the others, and his outfit was marred in dried blood and oil. Stepping forward, the masked man reached out and took the young man, throwing him towards the door. The kid shouted, putting his hands up as he was then forced to stand, a gun aimed at the back of the head.
"What are you doing?" Marin shouted.
"We'll start killing them," the masked man croaked, "one by one. Open the fucking doors!"
The mother did not stop crying, and the father had long since stopped trying to stop her.
"One."
"Please don't do this."
"Two."
Marin, crazed with fear, rushed forward. He wasn't even sure what he was trying to attempt. He grabbed the masked man, felt what must have been wires, then was thrown to the ground.
A deep groan, the ground shuddering with increasing intensity as the doors slowly parted.
Pain leapt into Marin's brain. He touched his sliver and cringed.
"Get him."
He was forced to open his eyes, gloves rubbing against skin as the masked searched Marin's face.
"He's got hardware."
"No shit," said another.
They forced him to the ground and then began to do a more thorough search of his person. One of them whistled when they found the pincer.
"This guy's government," a masked one said, dangling the pincer between two fingers.
"He's synced. We can use him to get to the bases."
"That's enough."
The one with the bloody suit reared up, looming above Marin, and for the first time in his life Marin realized he was not in control.
"Nothing's changed. Let's move."
Marin could see that the others respected the tall one on some level. As he was led back to the group, the other captees stared at Marin as if he had sprouted horns.
Into the dark they went, a few lights blinking from their hosts, not enough to push back that bleakness.
"What was that?" the father asked under his breath. He'd pushed up to Marin and was now clutching his arm.
"I'm synced to the mainframe," Marin said. "The wires under the city. I never used it for anything other than work, but...I don't know."
"They'll want to use you."
"That's what it looks like."
"You have to help me," the father pleaded. "My family, they're--"
"Look, I don't know any more than you do," Marin insisted. "I think right now we should just keep pace. Are you following me?"
The father stared, then nodded, falling back to his family before any more was said.
They emerged on the other side, into a twisted plain of various torn metal statues and crumbling rubble.
In the middle of the rubble was a helicopter, or what remained of one, its propellers missing and the insides hollowed out, wires jutting out at random directions, dark blood smeared on the windows.
They stopped not far from the wreckage. The masked began to confer with themselves or wandered out to do more scouting. Marin and the others were not left alone, but Marin could see their jailers had relaxed somewhat. They must have felt at-home with carnage.
"This is insane," said the younger man. "We should have heard about all this."
"Why?" the father asked, rubbing his arms, mist coming out of his mouth due to the cold. "They've been lying to us for a long time. Years, decades."
"Yeah but shit man..."
They continued to talk as Marin made his way to the wreckage of the helicopter. He noticed the younger woman join him, pale with distant eyes.
Marin peered into the cockpit. There were still lights, blinking.
"Weird."
"What?" she asked.
"I think it's still on."
"How's that possible?"
Marin didn't know. He began to scan the hull, then noticed what looked like a spark coming from inside the machine.
By now masked eyes were on him. Marin took a chance and reached into the hole of the hull.
"What are you doing?"
Marin fell back, staring down the end of the gun.
"I think I saw something," he said, rushed. "Something to power an a-unit. We can use it to power up the emergency generators and..."
The masked pressed the gun into his chest.
"Stop what you're doing. Now."
Marin stepped back. He was sure that he'd gone too far and that this was it. Instead, a grunt, the masked one trailing away--Marin thought he heard him curse.
"What is it?" the father asked once they were alone again.
Marin exhaled sharply. He was having a hard time focusing, his vision swaying.
"I think there might be something in the helicopter that can power the backdrive. What keeps the lights on. Right now, the only reason there's any power for the doors is because of backup generators, but they'll eventually go out."
"I think we've got bigger problems," the younger man said.
Marin glanced at the masked.
"I don't think these guys are cops."
The father scoffed.
"I am...I was an engineer," Marin continued. "I worked on chassis-tech. Believe me: the block-doors are going to open. And when they do..."
The younger woman became somehow paler. "Christ."
"That doesn't help us right now," stammered the father. "We need to get away from these people and somewhere safe."
"Do you really think that's an option?" asked the younger man.
Marin hadn't seen the masked one approach. For such a tall person, he was eerily quiet.
"Move."
And that was it. Once again Marin marveled at his own powerlessness.
At this vantage he could see down the way, towards the lower parts of the city: downtown, the docks where the police stations were. It looked as if some of the buildings had been hollowed out, like the helicopter.
"What do you call that thing?" the masked man said, taking a finger and touching Marin's sliver, Marin flinching back.
"I think you already know."
The masked snorted. "Yeah, you're definitely an agent. Tes said you guys might be coming out of your holes soon."
Marin didn't know how to respond.
"Here's what we'll do," the masked one began. "Our tanks are full. We were going to take you back with us." He took out the pincer, laying it perfectly against his black palm. "This is military. You've been locked up so you don't know how incredibly precious something like this is. If you follow my orders, then I won't kill you."
"I want the others to be safe too."
A blur of motion, then Marin couldn't breath, the masked one's hands wrapped around his neck. Marin scrambled, clawing at the hands until finally he was let go, forced onto the ground, gasping for air.
The masked pointed a finger down at Marin. "Careful. Do what I say, and we'll get to where we need to go faster. The smoother it goes, the better it will be."
Marion realized this was the best he was going to get.
"Fine. Just...please don't hurt them."
The masked one snorted again, then heaved a heady sigh.
"Jesus."
Marin was ready to tell the others what he hoped was good news when he saw a woman, standing at the entrance to one of the streets leading into the yard. She had hair so blonde it was nearly white and wore an azure jacket with flowers going up and down white sleeves. She was so at-odds with the decay surrounding her that Marin thought he might be hallucinating, until each of the masked came forward, blocking her path.
The tall one laughed beneath the mask. It was the crudent noise Marin thought he had ever heard.
"You," he seethed, "shouldn't be here."
"This is my home."
Each of the masked raised their guns.
It was a blur, so quick Marin didn't see the device sail through the air. The tall one lifted his gloved hand, and there Marin could see a small blinking light.
His world became fire as he was pushed back. Falling to the ground, Marin groaned in pain, then panic set in and he was on his feet, watching one of the masked ready his gun only for the girl to ram into him, taking the gun and weaving behind the masked so that his companions were shooting their friend instead of her.
It was hard to track her movements. The woman pushed her now-dead prey forward, then shot each of the remaining masked in turn, two shots and then--over, smoke rising from the bullet wounds freshly strewn upon their foreheads.
Silence reigned. The woman approached the prisoners, most of whom seemed more terrified now than ever before.
"My name is Molly Smith."
Marin blinked. She was standing in front of him, hiding the pistol away in the flap of her jacket and then waiting for him to respond.
"I..."
"You work for the government?"
Marin nodded. "An engineer, before everything...happened."
"You're lucky I found you. They would have used you until they didn't need you anymore, then they would have finished it. But that doesn't matter now. You must leave this place. Their scouts will come back, and far more terrible things now lie in the city."
She turned to the tall one's corpse, the entire front of his body burned.
"How did you get out?" she asked without looking up.
Marin winced, grasping his head, nearly vomiting. He noticed the others slowly approach, the mother in particular staring at Molly as if she were one of the masked.
"They came to our doors and told us to come out or they'd make us," Marin managed to say.
"I see. Soon, all the doors will open. And then, well...it won't be good."
Marin forced himself to focus. "Please, you...can you please help us?"
She smiled. "Is this not enough?"
"No--no! Thank you, you saved our lives, but where..."
"Where the hell do we go?" the father asked for him.
Molly crossed her arms and closed her eyes. She stood there like that for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry."
Marin felt such a wave of depression fall over him he thought he'd never come out of it.
"What?"
The father's eyes were very wide.
"I cannot help you, because there is little I can actually do. I can perhaps travel with you, make sure you are kept safe from the monsieurs, but that wouldn't be enough. I might have killed these men, but I cannot change the course of this history. Know that I cry every night for those I cannot save."
Molly Smith turned away. "You are on your own."
"Molly!"
A man came out of the shadows, as dust-riddled as the ground. He halted when he noticed the others, then approached Molly with something like reverence.
"What happened?" he asked, now searching the bodies.
"These people needed my help."
"We still need your help," the father shouted, shoving past Marin. "Take us to the national guard--anything."
"The world you know is gone now. This is the next step. Embrace it, or you will die like all the others who have come out and tried to play the same game by the same rules. I give you this knowledge knowing that you are scared and alone, with a family. The best thing you can do is arm yourself, and find a group that will protect you."
"Group?" Marin asked.
"You will see. I cannot explain it to you because I do not have the right words. We have been abandoned by every force that once held up the old system." Molly pointed to the horizon. "About a day's journey from here you will find the city limits. I advise that you take the monsieurs' guns, then try and cross the plains leading to the farms, which are growing. That is your best bet, I think."
"No."
The father was done, and Marin could see it, then figured Molly could see it too.
Fumbling through his pockets, the father took out a screen which he flicked on and began to cycle through by pressing against the lights floating in the air.
Marin pitied him. He seemed so near the edge.
"I wish I could do more," Molly said. She pointed at her head, then Marin realized she was referring to his implant. "That might help you, but I don't know for sure. All things connected with the old world are tainted now."
"How do you know all this?" Marin asked.
Molly's friend snorted. "She just does."
"I cannot explain exactly why I know what I know."
"Then..." Marin sighed. "Then can you tell us what happened?"
The question reverberated through the courtyard.
Molly blinked, once.
"The world ended."
She went over to look out at where the sun might have once been.
"I remember, in my mind, seeing the rockets. They came from a very far place, and when they arrived in many ways any hope we might have had to preserve was shattered in that beginning. Now, you live in a world of mercenaries, men and women who have no concept of a soul and have no need of one. They seek only to survive. In a way, this is the most incredible suicide of all."
Down the way, a set of vents opened, and out poured white spoke. Marin and the others stared until the vents closed again, the white slowly wandering up, past the streets, past the blocks, past the city itself.
"You are poisoned," Molly said in a whispering voice. "I'm sorry, but the second your door opened you were marked."
"Poisoned?" the father said. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"They are pumping poison into the air. I'm sorry."
"No. No, I don't believe you."
"It doesn't matter what you believe. We are tainted. I'm sorry."
She lowered her head.
Wind blew against Marin's face. The smell of dried blood was everywhere; Marin realized he'd probably have to get used to the stench.
"I'll get you out of here," Molly said, "then I will leave in the morning."
She got up and began to walk, her friend following her.
The father came forth. He was red in the face and seemed not able to look at the bodies.
"I don't trust any of you people. How is there no military? How have people gone on if they're poisoned?" The father shook his head. "She's crazy, just like these people."
"We don't really have a choice," the younger woman said.
"I do. I'm an American, right? I'm going my own way, the way that best fits my situation and best protects my family." The father shuddered. "We're going."
The mother began to talk fast at the father, but the father did not relent and soon the family was leaving.
No one made a move to stop them.
"They won't last the day."
Molly resumed her march.
Marin rushed over to block Molly's path.
"You can't just let them die."
"I have no way of controlling what people do."
Marin searched hard into her face. There was something wrong; slight but sure.
"What are you?"
"I'm Molly Smith. C'mon. Worse things than monsieurs stalk this place at night."
With nowhere to go, Marin and the others fell in-line. Molly led, and she did so with a purpose usually reserved for those with clear foresight. Marin had never had this; it had been one of the reasons why he'd accepted the implant in the first place. None of that seemed to matter anymore, however.
Afraid and seeking answers, Marin went up to walk alongside Molly.
He opened his mouth to speak, then sighed.
"I don't even know what to ask."
The corner of her lip went up. "Then you are smart, Marin. I do not know what the future holds, but I hope you will be a part of it."
She stopped, then reached out and touched his implant.
He shivered. Her hands were so cold.
Fall leaves. A wind, bitter, coursing against black sand. And there, the titan, monster of monsters; his eyes were white and his teeth jagged, though Marin was not afraid.
When he cameto, Marin looked up at Molly with something like reverence.
"We built too much," she said, then resumed her trek.
Marin didn't know what to think of any of this.
"What happened?" the younger woman asked. She looked so afraid she might burst.
"I..." Marin gripped his eyes shut. "I'm trying to figure it out."
"I'm sorry, I...I'm glad you're here. I'm Kathy, by the way. And that's Chase. We went to school together, then..."
"Then things changed."
"Yeah," Kathy said, rigid as a corpse. "Yeah."
A bird shot through the air. Marin hesitated. It was strange to see something alive, still animated in this hell.
Molly had stopped. Her friend came up and spoke in a low voice.
"We must find shelter," she said.
Now they were racing, fast underneath pale lights still working despite the rot within.
The sky crackled above. Molly was moving so fast Marin was sure she'd lose them.
They took a turn, and there sitting within a bramble of wires was what looked like an entrance, just large enough that Marin could get inside. Molly took the initiative, and Marin followed, sliding into the crevice and slowly making his way through.
It felt like hours but it was probably minutes. Impossible to tell; the sun was gone and the city's lights seemed never to go off.
At the end, Molly appeared in sunlight, and surely she was the most incredible thing Marin had ever seen.
"Can I trust you?"
Marin hesitated, Molly's friend passing him with a frown.
"I think so."
"I am glad to hear you say that. Trust is important, especially in the end, though be careful who you give your trust to."
"What about myself? I can still trust my own intuition."
Molly didn't answer, at first, and when she did she shook her head.
"Nothing is set."
She took Marin's arm and pulled him to the side.
"We will have to go through the cistern."
Obviously this meant something Marin wasn't aware of.
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Careful," she said. "It isn't good versus bad but survival versus no-survival. We've gone past the old way of looking at existence." She sighed, then added, "Yes...it is a bad thing."
Marin could see the pain on her face.
"Tell me what you need me to do."
She looked up at his implant. "I need you to be a distraction. In doing so, you will save the lives of three people, but risk your own."
Marin hadn't expected this. "Is there any other way?"
"No."
Molly waited. Her friend had come up to them. He seemed concerned, though Marin didn't know why. Molly, it seemed, could take care of herself.
"Okay."
Molly smiled and--throwing Marin off-guard--embraced him. It was nothing sincere, just a casual reminder of humanity. It nearly felled Marin, who thought such things didn't exist anymore.
"Do you see that tower?"
It nearly touched the sky, a snaking coil with electric lights covering its body. It was maybe the tallest thing in the city, though Marin had never noticed it before.
"That is a beacon," Molly continued. "Go to it, then press the red button on the top floor; you'll know it when you see it. Then wait. You will find a window and be able to see when we cross the cistern."
The sky boomed.
"How much trouble will I be in?" Marin asked.
Molly hesitated.
"The beacon will alarm all living things near it. It possesses...memories. They are incredibly precious, alien but also familiar. And dangerous. Very dangerous."
"The guys with the masks will come," Marin said--it wasn't a question.
Molly hesitated again, then nodded.
"Okay."
He went up to observe the tower.
"I need a gun."
Molly reached inside her vest, setting Marin's own gun on his palm.
"Make sure you keep it close," she said. "It will save your life."
"Thank you, I..." Marin couldn't help but laugh a little. "I assume I wouldn't have made it this far without you."
"No, probably not."
She left with one last smile then conferred with her friend, who now looked upon Marin not with distrust but admiration.
Kathy came forward and kissed him on the cheek.
"I overheard. Thank you."
Marin smiled. "Don't mention it."
"My friend, he would say something too, but--"
"It's fine."
They embraced, then Kathy fell back. Molly was watching him, her chin tilted up, wind moving her hair.
"Good luck everyone," Marin said.
"Go the moment you see that we have crossed the river," Molly told him. "You will be safer on your own. Find us at the church. You'll see it."
"Okay."
Molly left without ceremony, the others following, Kathy looking over her shoulder then disappearing behind a veil of fog.
Marin stood there, realizing he needed to move or be beset by the monsters. He didn't know what he was about to go against, but now--looking back at his life leading up to this grand conclusion--Marin couldn't help but be proud of what he had done and what he would do.
The wind was growing colder. Marin shivered beneath his frayed clothing, putting his hands under his armpits and coming up to the front of the tower.
There weren't any lights on inside. Marin flicked his watch on, a circle of white wrapping around him.
The tower was mostly metal, and it didn't seem like anyone had been here for a long while. There was some overturned, metal furniture, and dust and grime covered most of the surfaces. It was strange, Marin thought, to see something so incredible outside, only to find hollow remains within.
He began his climb. It wasn't long before he began to sweat.
In that silence, each step echoed. It unnerved Marin.
He rolled up his sleeves. To his surprise he could see that he was already near the top. Marin stopped, trying to make sense of what had just happened. A miracle, or something altogether? Marin wasn't sure, reminding himself that the implant in his head was something like a miracle too.
The last door slid open with a low groan and there laying within a perfect circle of light was a lantern. Marin approached it. It was beautiful, the light. Inside the lantern was a stone--a crystal, perfectly formed.
There: the window, allowing Marin to see the city for it was: an organism. He could see it evolving still, great cranes erecting new blocks, new foundations for new towers.
Marin closed his eyes, then opened the lantern and took out the crystal.
At first: nothing, then images leapt into Marin's brain, repeating themselves, again and again until Marin screamed and fell.
His vision swayed. The only thing he could think of now was the others and their safety. He reached deep inside and raised himself up, still grasping the crystal.
There, crossing over a muddied river, was Molly and the others. Marin pressed his hand against the glass.
Monsiuers. They moved with purpose, stalking, sifting through the fog, following their dogs with their bloodied mouths and whitewashed-eyes.
Marin fumbled back, raising his gun, staring at the door. He heard a boom, then another, forcing him to close his eyes as the terror became too much.
Steps. Marin laughed, then went over and looked out the window.
Molly Smith stared back.
"You're not a fucking person," he whispered.
She turned away, the others following her.
A bang, followed by distorted whispers. Marin rose up and cleared his throat, aiming the pincer at the door.
A shout, then fire, and pain.