Apocalypse Rising (11 page)

I see a door two flights below me, and I make a dash for it. I push through and find myself in a dark tunnel lit with a series of flickering emergency lights. I turn to the door and focus, drawing every ounce of the Power I can absorb into me before I grab the handle and twist it beyond repair.

I break my link with the Power and run down the tunnel, worried that they may be able to shoot the lock off like in the movies. I do not know if that really works, but someone sure seems to think it will, because the unpleasant staccato of gunfire rings through the tunnel.

If they catch me in here I am dead. There is nothing in the way. No steam pipes, power lines, nothing. Flat walls, floor, and ceiling all made of concrete with the stupid security lights being the only things sticking out. Oh, how I hate efficiency in design.

There is no end in sight, but the gunshots are replaced by the solid thump of a man trying to use his shoulder. Time is running out for me. I have all but given up when I hear, "psst, in here." I stop, and look in time to see a small section of the wall fade from existence. "Hurry up, or I'll leave you out there." A small, gnarled hand emerges from the darkness and motions for me to follow. Normally, I am completely opposed to following anyone into a dark tunnel, but the banging on the door convinces me to make an exception.

Once I am inside the tunnel, the section of wall rematerializes and we are plunged into complete darkness. I hear my rescuer breathing, a heavy, wet, rasping sound, so I know I am not alone, but he says nothing. "Thank you," I venture.

"You're welcome," says the same voice from before. "Crawl after me. The tunnel curves after a bit, and then you'll get some light to see by, but be silent lest we are heard."

I nod, realizing how ridiculous that is, and follow once I hear him move off. I cannot help but wonder if I have left the skillet for the serving plate.

"What do you mean, he's gone?" Neville asked.

"It’s just that: he's gone. He was there one minute, then nothing," said the technician. He was a minor Angel of little standing, but still a child of the Light, and deserving of some measure of respect. Neville had to forcibly remind himself of that as he stood towering over the technician.

"Find him. Figure out how the machines failed and find him," said Neville, the rage he felt masked by the outward appearance of calm. "He's too close for us to lose him now." Neville turned and stared out of the window. "Where are you?"

“Where’s who, brother?” asked Robert as he strode into the room.

His grin was magnetic, but Neville was in no mood to smile. “You know very well who, Robert,” he said.

“You were able to find him?

“His presence was detected nearby. We were able to track him for a while. We even managed to ascertain a location.”

“We should pick him up then!” Robert exclaimed and turned toward the door.

“I was about to, when he disappeared from the scope.” The frustration in Neville’s voice was plain. “Simply gone, as if he were dead, which we know is not the case.”

"So where is he?" demanded Robert loud enough to make the nearby technicians flinch.

"I don't know, but we're looking," Neville said with a voice as calm and serene as he had ever managed. Leave it to Robert to bring him back to center. "As soon as we've confirmed how he disappeared, we'll send a couple of our more trusted agents in to locate him. Until then, I've ordered one of our mortal operatives to the last known scene to have a look around." There was a time when Neville hated working through proxies, both angelic and mortal, but that time had long since passed.

"His strength is growing," Robert said.

"I know. He is accessing the power more frequently, and for different tasks." Neville turned back to the window before he continued speaking. "Soon he will remember who he is, and that will cause a whole new host of problems."

"Host is right," said Robert before barking a harsh guffaw. "The Host may well become one of our greatest concerns, if he figures out what he is, and they find out about it."

"Too true." Neville placed the palm of his hand on the window, enjoying the cool touch of the glass. "It is a dangerous path we walk brother."

"There is no reward without danger," Robert said as he took his place beside Neville. "The potential here is incredible. If we play this correctly, it could change everything, and our names would be celebrated across the cosmos."

"Or vilified if we fail," whispered Neville.

"What troubles you, Neville? It is not like you to be so pessimistic."

"I don't know." Neville stood still, his eyes focused on a point beyond even his incredible sight. "I have never doubted our role in this before, but I find myself uncertain, no, uncomfortable, for the first time since we made the mortal world our home."

Robert turned his oldest friend towards him. They had known each other almost from the moment reality had been shaped out of the chaos that was the universe. “Neville, the time for doubt and discomfort has long since passed. We knew this time would come, and we knew the risks. Take heart in the fact that we have the courage to act, rather than wait for the universe to shape us. We are not the sheep walking the streets below, God help them. We are the lions, and we will shape our destiny like no one has ever been able to do before.”

“Been able, or been willing?” Neville raised his hand before his brother could respond. “I know, Robert, it was rhetorical. I wish we could go to Him for guidance. I miss Him.”

“Father looks upon our works, and is pleased Neville. I can feel it.” Robert looked up at the sun, a silent homage to the Father. “The world will be better for our labors, and you know it.”

Neville too looked at the sun, wishing it were the true Light, not a pale substitute, and longed to feel even its warmth upon his skin. “I do, Heaven help me, but I do.”

The dark goes on forever, or so it seems. The breathing of my rescuer tells me I am still on the right track, but there are no features in the tunnel to tell me where we are, or where we are going. The walls and floor are made of concrete, or perhaps very closely fitted brick. The air is stale, but breathable. I am reminded of a video I watched some time back, where an archaeologist sent a tiny robot up an airshaft in one of the pyramids, only this time I am the robot. For the life of me, I cannot remember whether or not they got the robot back out.

It feels like we have been crawling for an hour when the tunnel starts to curve. A hint of light somewhere far ahead gives me hope that our journey is near its end. At first, it is little more than the suggestion of light, like the first suggestion of the early morning sunrise, but it grows in strength until I can distinguish the outline of the person crawling in front of me. He is smaller than I expected, though it is possible that his size is a trick of the confined space and the limited light. “How much further?” I whisper, never slowing my pace.

“Almost there,” he says.

I keep crawling, happy to see the light growing brighter. I do not fear the dark, but I am more comfortable in the light, even if it is artificial.

It is funny really; but I actually prefer the duller light of candles, or torches, over the glaring brightness of electric lights. Even the gas lamps of the Victorian age were preferable, but it has become difficult to find anyone who uses fire as a source of light. I hope that the lights ahead are candles, but it is too steady to be anything but electricity.

“When we leave the tunnel, be silent. Say nothing, and let me speak, lest you offend the wrong person, and I am forced to take you back, or kill you.” There is no emotion in his words. He speaks fact and nothing more. “I don’t wish to kill you, but I will not hesitate to do so if I am ordered.”

“I understand,” I say.

“Good. We will get you out of here, and I will help you how I can, but it will not be an easy thing.” My rescuer stops, and I almost run into him. “And for Heaven’s sake, don’t try to use your power. Play human, or all of the talk in the world will not save either of us.”

The little man starts crawling again and I follow, confused by how he knows I am not human. I do not suppose I should be surprised, since most supernatural creatures can sense it in others, and given my use of the power to break the door, I was probably glowing with the after-image of its use. I am uncertain where I am heading, and I am putting my trust in someone I do not know. I have to trust things will work out. A little leap of faith is a good place to start I guess, but I wish I had a little more to hang on to.

The tunnel opens up gradually, becoming wide enough for two people to walk side by side, and high enough that I am able to stand without hitting my head on the ceiling. My guide does the same, but he is no taller than four foot. We look like a parent and child walking through the darkness. "Okay, we can talk now," he says with a whisper, "but you'll still want to keep it quiet, and remember to shut up when we leave the tunnel."

"Okay," I whisper back. The lights grow brighter, and I get my first good look at my rescuer.

When he first rescued me, I thought that perhaps he was a human dwarf, but I realize now that he is nothing of the sort. He is small, by human standards, but completely proportionate to a human. His stride is light, like a dancer's, but there is strength behind every motion. I catch glimpses of his face beneath the hood of his cloak as he walks. His appearance brings to mind a beautiful child that was caught in a fire. There is something sweet there, but it is corrupted by darkness.

"Don't stare," he says. "I am not the only one who has been tainted, and most of my people are not nearly as forgiving as I am." A wicked looking, curved blade appears in his hand and disappears just as quickly. "They will stare at you. They will look hard, and they will look close. You look nearly perfect as far as humans go, so you will draw much attention, possibly even after we leave." My rescuer sighs, and says, "let them look, let them touch, let them do what they will, and do not complain. Act as if none of it bothers you, and they will tire of you eventually."

"And who are your people?" I ask. I hate looking ignorant amongst the supernatural people of the world; it has a way of coming back to haunt you.

"We are known by a number of names," he says. "Our most recent, and most popular, is elf, but we no longer fit the stereotype." He grumbles and turns to me. "Look, I'll tell you all about it once we're out of here okay, but until then, you must call us by the name we have given ourselves: the Cursed."

"Seems rather melodramatic," I suggest as he turns back to the front.

"I suppose it is, but we have always been a rather dramatic people at heart," he says. "Our current condition has given us a somewhat...darker perspective." He turns his head, and smiles as he walks. "When I was younger, I wished for a little more darkness in our lives, and time has granted it. I try to think of it as a lesson of some sort, but I've not been able to put my fingers on what it is."

"Be careful what you wish for," I say.

He stops and looks at me again. "Be careful what you wish for," he says. I can almost see the words rolling around in his mind. "Yes, I think that will work nicely. Thank you."

"My name is Justin, by the way," I say, and offer my hand.

My rescuer looks at my hand, at me, and back again. His little hand makes mine look enormous as he takes it, and gives it a firm shake. "You may call me Julius."

"Nice to meet you, Julius," I say as we begin to walk again.

"Alright, I think that's enough chat for now," he says. "We need to work on silence now, and don't forget what I've told you."

I nod my head in agreement, and return to silence, left with more questions, and not caring for it one bit.

We walk out of the tunnel, into a large open cavern filled with open pipes spilling everything from potable water to raw sewage. Smaller caves are dug into the walls from the floor to the ceiling, giving the place an unstable look. People, roughly the same size as Julius, walk back and forth across pipes, rails, planks and ledges with daunting ease. They wear the same cloak and hood combination as my rescuer, though the shades vary from person to person. If these are the elves of old, then they have fallen far, perhaps even further than I have.

Julius leads the way into the warren of the elves, and whispers, "watch your step. You do not want to fall." I look down, and silently agree. A fall would be dangerous because of the distance, and rather cluttered, and uneven floor, but it is the dark, slithering shapes, moving about, half-hidden, that worry me most. I do not fear snakes, but I cannot detect any snakes on the floor below. "They are the Lampree," Julius says. "They are abominations of the ancient world. They enjoy elf flesh, but they are not so picky as to ignore you."

The cavern is lit by a source far overhead. It reminds me of sunlight, but feels brighter, more concentrated. Some of the small caverns exude light of their own, and I see an occasional candle, or torch, carried about by some of the residents, but the light from above is what I saw as we crawled through the tunnel.

“Hello, Julius. I see you brought us some dinner,” says a slightly taller elf who greets us at the opening.