The Overlord: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel (22 page)

"Don't worry," wheezed Zero. "It won't be yours for very long. I will be avenged. The Space Wizard is coming for you all."

Deadstock took pity, "Zero, you should know better than to believe your own lies."

Hysterical, the Commander began cackling as a great shadow came hovering over the altar. The lightless eminence then overtook the whole arena and all became darkness. Looking up, it was the pyramid. The structure was lining up directly above the center of the altar.

"What have you done?" The Overlord slipped off his shades, revealing horror in his eyes.

"Far Stranger," whispered the Commander into the air. "Awaken the volcano."

Blaring, humming, and juddering, the pyramid of mysterious capabilities wafted directly over Zero. Upon the altar, a steady trickle of blood was flowing down his arm, over his hand, and onto the center of the platform. The whole base began to glow as it drank his crimson life force. The ancient dais was energizing, absorbing the fuel of his blood.

Zero's raspy laughter continued. "I had planned to use your blood for this, but you have already spilled mine. By shedding my blood, you have just fueled the greatest weapon this earth has ever seen."

"You're out of tricks," debated the Overlord. "Scare tactics aren't going to work with me."

"Look around you," instructed Zero. "The forest was grown post-volcanic. The waterfall range that encircles us was the rim of a crater. The altar at your feet was the seal of an enormous magma pipe. And the pyramid currently above your head serves as a giant superconductor, housing the Wandering Star at its core. The violet flames of the Thralldom will be ignited once again. You thought you could take me to hell, Doctor, but I've already brought hell to you."

The Overlord stepped back toward us, fear in his face. "Everyone, run!"

A burst of purple light then bellowed from the center of the altar as a beam just like it came down from the midst of the glassy pyramid above. The two glowing columns met and conjoined. At first glance, I thought it was the challenge pillar, but it proved to be no simple illumination. It was fire, purple fire.

"I've failed," Deadstock spoke quietly to himself, transfixed by the terrible sight.

"You failed a long time ago," croaked Zero, agonizingly.

Every crystalline panel of the immense pyramid then refracted the fire at different angles. Hot, violet lasers shot out in all directions. Soil, rocks, and ranks of Thralls all went blasting into the air. The levitating structure then began to rotate, spin, and invert. It adjusted into a massive, triangular prism. Its upturned tip was aimed directly down for the magma pipe below. Revolving and pulsating a beam of awful fire, the lasers were focused into one source.

The altar melted. The earth sank beneath it as the surrounding ground spewed up into the sky. The last time anyone saw Commander Zero, he was slipping down into that enflamed abyss. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks, but it was if he just disappeared. I lost sight of him as lava began seeping out from the natural vents of the volcano. My view of the sinking altar was obstructed by the disarray. When I caught sight of it again, Zero's place remained, but he was gone. It almost seemed as if a weaving had taken place, but that simply wouldn't be possible.

The Commander had been mortally wounded. Speculating the possibilities of his survival felt unreasonable. Still, it left me wanting more. There was no gruesome death or poetic justice. He had simply vanished without any hope to ever be found. Maybe that was justice enough, in itself.

Meanwhile, the Lair was overcome with the flow of the lava. Trees burned in the seepage while buildings were brought down to rubble. The Thralls were already fleeing, but it was too late for most. Between the charred dirt and the smoke filled sky, there was nothing worse than the smell of human flesh being burned. The blistering of a body is unforgettable. I'll never escape the memory of the sweltering odor I had to breathe in from that rising hell.

Fossil was guiding several of us toward a safe path, if such a thing could even be found that day. The Overlord had won the day, but the day was dead. There would be no time to look back as we ran across the mouth of an awakening volcano. I only glanced off once, and that was when I caught sight of the "Tomahawk." I was half tempted to veer off toward the wreckage, but the Overlord had already beaten me to it.

I knew Sentria probably hadn't lasted the crash, but Deadstock's determination sparked a little hope. By way of sweat and tears, he passed into that dismal wreckage not as an Overlord, but as a father. He returned from that blackened debris with a treasured cargo in his arms.

18

THE WEAVING

From the view of the "Beast of Burden," lava could be see spouting across the whole Lair. The very ground was giving way, melting into hot sludge. Nothing could hide from the red fire and its hot fumes.

On board the "Beast of Burden," I, President Nightwood, had ordered my fleet to stand clear of the slow destruction. The carnage beyond had us all engrossed. In silence, we wondered what would come next as we beheld the awful sight through our observation windows. No one said a word, that is, until I received an unexpected call for help from a voice coated in static.

It began inaudibly. Most signals were jammed and the audio was not coming in clear enough to make out who it was or what they were trying to say. I quickly ordered my communications officer to try to isolate the transmission.

Anxiously, the voice called out, "This is Dr. Deadstock. Is anyone there? Radio check. Radio check. United Corps, do you read?"

"This is Nightwood," I confirmed into the receiver. "I can read you loud and clear. Report your status."

"I'm in the outlying forest, west of the Lair," he spoke swiftly in a panicked state. "I need a pick-up for myself and a wounded. Do you copy?"

"Copy that," I replied. "We are pinpointing your position as we speak. Stay with me, Doctor. Can you tell me what's going on down there?"

He explained, "Commander Zero is dead, but he managed to have the Wandering Star weaponized before I killed him. There was nothing I could do. He had everything set in place before I even got there. Ember, this is nothing short of annihilation. I don't think it's just the Lair that will fall from this power. I think we've all just been scheduled for extermination."

The developing information surely had me surprised, but unexpectedly, it also had me scared. "What? What do you mean?"

"It's the Blood Tech," Deadstock answered. "It's not to equip an army this time, like in the Last War. It's been concentrated into a single weapon."

I sought a little more clarification, "What kind of weapon are we dealing with here?"

He radioed back, "Zero's doomsday weapon was in front of us the whole time. It's the pyramid. It's magnifying a laser into the heart of the volcano. This whole place is going to blow."

"I understand," I confirmed.

Deadstock reminded, "How's that extraction coming along? I don't know how much longer I can last out here. I've got a wounded that needs immediate help and this forest is starting to heat up pretty fast!"

"Our scans are showing hot plumes all around your position." I concluded, "My ship would never make it through. It's too dangerous. You will have to come to me."

"I expected you'd say that," he said without sign of ill will. "I'm losing ground by the second, though. I don't think I'll be making it very far!"

I pushed fervently, "You are going to have to try! Drop your wounded. Forget the Thrall and make a run for it!"

"Ember, it's Sentria," the Overlord emphatically revealed. "She's unconscious, but she's alive. Did you copy that? I have Sentria in my possession!"

I paused for longer than any mother should before I finally returned, "Copy on Sentria."

"I'm not leaving without her," he adamantly vowed.

"I hear you! Just hold on! Let me think!" I then scrambled a plan with my officers on the bridge. Looking over our digital charts of the area, we came to a decision. "Alright, I think I have a way of getting the two of you out of there. A quarter mile from your position is a large ravine were the lava flow has not yet reached. However, the gorge wall is destabilizing every moment and I will not risk my crew. Therefore, my ship will maneuver to extract you at the brink of that canyon. No further. You will have to jump for it, but this is the best that I can do."

Deadstock nervously agreed through the radio, "Copy that. At this point, I'll take whatever I can get!"

"Good," I approved back. "The ravine will be due west from you. It is impossible to miss, so keep moving."

Determined, he promised, "I'll be there!"

"I will be waiting," I guaranteed. "Now run!"

My ship was soon waiting at the edge of the Lair's end. It was a daunting height that would mean death if the jump went wrong. Searching for any sign of him, he finally rushed out of the maze of fire and lava with our daughter latched upon his back. She was out cold and the hot destruction was nearly at Deadstock's heels. It was as if the burning path had followed him to the very edge. The earth was shifting, the trees were toppling, and the gorge wall was slowly crumbling in the upset.

As the side hatch of my ship opened to them, I will admit that I had my doubts as to whether or not this plan was actually going to work. He was going to jump and all we could do was pray that his fall found its way into our door. I do not known how Deadstock found the courage.

Mortal without the Wandering Star, he had no weaving to help him. Wounded from the duel, he had no assurances at all. It was just a hopeful plunge off the edge of a cliff. A true leap of faith, if you will.

Let me make it clear that it was not a distance of a few feet. It was an adrenaline punching drop that would devastate the ambition of most. A few of my personnel were leaning out from the hatch, willing to lend an extended hand if his jump was undershot. It was the closest thing to a safety net that we could offer.

He stepped up. We were ready with an upward tilt with the hatch toward his trajectory. He then stepped back, fearful, only to find the fire had finally reached his back. The trees around him groaned. They were going to fall forward, onto the ship. Without further choice, he took his cue to step off the cliff. He launched out into the open air while the upset earth pushed out the large timbers at the same time. Falling with him, the weighty trunks smashed into the broadside of the "Beast of Burden."

My pilot lost control as the engines lost stability. The force of the timbers caused the tilting to swing to the other side. The jump was missed. The tree trunks rolled off our shell, but Deadstock and my daughter were gone.

Then, we caught sight of a weave. Particles were forming in front of the open hatch. Five fingers were forming, reaching up from below to my crew at the opening. They reached down and grabbed the formed hand with all haste. The attached pixilation then came to life as the weaving came to a close. It was Deadstock. With the weight of Sentria on his back and shoulders, he was losing grip. In all strength and discomfort, my crew pulled him up over the ledge of the hatch's opening. The two were secured and safely inside the ship.

The side hatch was then quickly sealed and the flying rubble, lava, and rock were of no more concern as we took off. I would have considered it fortunate to be unconscious through that whole ordeal. Upon informing Sentria, however, she was saddened to hear that she had missed the excitement of it all.

As for the weave that had been made, none of us had an answer to explain how it occurred. Equally astonished, Deadstock denied any part with it. A weaving would be impossible unless the Wandering Star was inside of him, which it was not as we all knew well. Thus, someone else had manipulated their matter to save their lives. Whoever it was, or whatever the case, one thing was for certain. We were being watched.

19

THE PLAGUE OF PHANTOMS

There is still much to tell, but I, Ember Nightwood, cannot fully retell anything more through the eyes of a President. The rest of my portion, I must tell as a wife, as only such a woman could hope to voice what happened next.

After my crew had retrieved my husband along with our daughter, we quickly brought them both into the infirmary of my ship. Deadstock's wounds were cleaned, cauterized, and closed while his veins were hooked up to a replenishing supply from all the blood he had lost. Sentria had regained consciousness, but needed rest from a sustained head injury. It was not severe, but she would have to be on her back for the next twenty-four hours. From a hallway window, I watched my medical team as they fussed about with the both of them.

I walked in slowly, not wanting to interrupt, but found it impossible as I asked, "How did you find her?"

Deadstock winced with a grunt as his main wound was being mended, "There wasn't much time, but I had to know for sure if she was alive before I could even think about leaving her there. Live wires were sparking everywhere, dangling from the broken panels inside. The entire ship was a wreck. It's a miracle she survived that mess. I found her, face down on the controls. Her head was hit pretty hard, but she was alive without any other visible injuries."

"Sir." One of my medical crew interjected as they helped him. "Please, try not to move."

"Sorry." Deadstock continued, keeping still with minimal body language. "You know, I never would've made it out if I hadn't gone back for her. There was no way of communicating to anyone without the use of her radio. If it wasn't for Sentria, I don't where I'd be right now, and I don't even want to think about what could've happened to her."

I tenderly knelt beside Sentria and brushed my hand across her resting face. "I am forever in your debt for this."

"You don't owe me anything," he insisted. "It was a father's duty, nothing more."

Half-awake, Sentria groaned out, "Where is he?"

"Who?" I asked.

Untangling himself from the many tubes and the hands of the medical crew, Deadstock swiftly came rushing over to Sentria's bedside. "It's me, Sentria. I'm here."

"It was you, wasn't it? You got me out of there," she deducted with a smile.

Both of their hands then clasped tightly into each other's as Deadstock said, "I got you, Sentria. Know that I always will. Whatever happens, I've got you."

He then pulled out the banner of red, white, and blue from the remains of his scattered gear. It took me by surprise. In our wasteland world, it was always unexpected to see any flag. Though I was a Canadian, seeing "Old Glory" was like meeting a close friend after a long time, having parted without knowing when you were ever going to see them again. Somehow, time had brought you back to each other.

Sentria had given him the flag and now he was giving it back. "I need you to keep this safe. It's done its part with me. Where I'm going, I'm not going to need it anymore, but you will." He gently placed the banner in her hands as Sentria examined the tattered, stained cloth. "It's got blood all over it. I'm sorry."

"It's a symbol of liberty," she replied spiritedly. "It's supposed to have blood on it."

The two shared a momentary chuckle before Sentria suddenly grew dire in a troubled realization, "You're going back to the Lair, aren't you? That's why you're giving this to me."

Deadstock regretted, "Doom forever, that's been my legacy, but I promise I won't make it yours. It ends today and it ends with me."

"Doom does not have to be your only legacy," she comforted. "There is life too. It's in the lives that carry your name in their hearts. You will always be their Overlord, the one who showed them a better path. The Thralls, you have to save them. The Free World has ordered all of their deaths, but there are still good people among them."

Shaken, Deadstock turned to me, "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I was overruled," I explained. "It is not just my job to govern the Free World, but I also must carry out its will, even when I don't agree. To do otherwise, would be of my own agenda. Democracy demands I set my own self aside."

He gave me a stern glare, "What's the difference between you and a Thrall if you're both slaves? Maybe you can't do anything for all of them, but you can always do something for just one person. Promise me this, Ember. Find one and save him. Save one, not for me or for our daughter, but for yourself. Save just one for your own humanity. Don't let it end any other way."

I was speechless. I could neither promise nor submit myself to disregard the request. My humanity had just been put on the line. Had my vow of leadership replaced my duty as a soul?

Before I could even give an answer, he knelt back to our daughter, pleading, "You'll have to learn to forgive me, Sentria. I was never the father you probably wanted or needed. I'm afraid I'm still not."

Sentria vigorously claimed, "Today, you're father enough for us all. One way..."

"...or the other," he completed.

With a kiss on the forehead, a kiss on the cheek, and a kiss on the hand, Deadstock said his goodbye to his daughter. It was an emotional time, but I must leave alone the details of that memory. Out of respect, I must let that memory rest in the hearts of those that shared it. Goodbyes are often very delicate things. Words do not always do them the justice that they deserve. When the time had come to give my own farewell to my husband, I did not expect the outpouring that had been hiding within me all along.

Restraining myself and finding composure, I addressed the necessary affairs at hand. "I have good news for you. My research has completed the construction of the Plague of Phantoms. The warhead is live and ready, but I am afraid I have some bad news too. The original plan isn't going to work. I had hoped that you could man a fighter and drop the EMP onto the pyramid, but there's too much interference from the volcano now. The warhead's trajectory would be stopped before it ever reached its target and there is no way to manually guide the missile."

He nodded, "Even if we could set off the Plague of Phantoms nearby, we don't know how far its range can go. It's got to be close."

"Is there even anything to be worried about, though?" I presented, "Why can't we just let the volcano and the Wandering Star destroy each other? Surely, this cannot simply continue on forever. Inevitably, the power has to stop."

"But when?" Deadstock asked back, "Time is precious. The Wandering Star is putting out an unstoppable laser that's hotter than anything else on the earth. That laser is digging directly into the deep layers of the planet. Yes, that volcano is surely expendable, but those magma chambers eventually all connect to each the further they go down. If one blows, the ones nearby could likely follow, awakening every dormant volcano in range. It'd be the same effect of a nuclear fallout. Humanity could hold on like they did after the Last War, but nobody knows what's beyond the lava. The laser could easily aim for the earth's core and that'd be the end of all survivable life. Are you willing to risk the Free World under that kind of disaster?"

"No, I get your point," I said simply. "Which is why I'm going to allow what you're about to do next. I know exactly what you're thinking. My instincts want to stop you, but my head knows it must be done."

"I need to set-off the EMP by hand inside the pyramid," he confidently offered. "It's the only way."

I veered down, escaping his eyes. "It is a plan that could succeed, but it would mean your death. There would be no escape once the warhead is activated. I am only going to agree to this because there are more lives at stake aside from your own. Even so, this plan still has its holes. How exactly do you plan on getting there? As I've already told you, a ship will never make it."

Deadstock thought for only a moment, before blurting out, "The Low Atmo bike! Please tell me you still have that Low Atmo from Fever Island."

"You mean that piece of rubbish that can barely fly?" I sought. "I believe it remains in the loading bay, right where you left it."

I then led him down into the hull where the greasy craft was last located. Sure enough, it was still there, fallen to one side. Gears and nuts from the oily bike were spewed about all over the cargo floor.

I attested, "This is absolutely ridiculous, Doctor! That fuming piece of junk was barely running when you escaped from that island!"

He persisted, "What other chance have we got?"

"None that I can see," I caved. "I truly wish there was some other way than for you to do this."

"All of humanity is at stake here," Deadstock asserted. "You need to stand by them through whatever sacrifice it takes. No regrets, Ember. Never do I want you to blame yourself for something that's not your fault. This destruction has always been my doing and now it'll finally come to an end."

Within the hour, I called my crew to prepare the Plague of Phantoms. I suited Deadstock up with some new gear and had my engineers try their best to remove any kinks out of the Low Atmo Bike. As for the warhead itself, we fitted with a couple straps so that Deadstock could carry it like a pack on his back.

I instructed, "The actual payload is in the nose cone of the rocket. When you find the Wandering Star, all you have to do is detach the warhead from the neck of the missile tube. It twists off easily, but as soon as you do, it will initiate a countdown sequence of three seconds. When the timer runs out, the electromagnetic pulse will discharge immediately."

I tightened some traps and pulled at his gear, testing its strength. He was ready. Wish I could have said the same for myself.

I carried on, "Oh, and I had my officers take a geographical scan of the area. I asked for the best guess they could give me and they estimate you have about thirty minutes until the volcano erupts, so don't waste a single second."

"I don't intend to." He then faced me, brushing my loose hair from my eyes as his fingers slipped down my cheek. "Every day, since the Last Day of the Last War, I've asked forgiveness for things that I've done, the things that I've created. Today, there's only one person left in this universe that I still need to say it to. Will you ever forgive me, Ember?"

"You have always had my forgiveness." I clutched his hand in my own and brought it up to my lips to bless it with my love. "All I ever wanted was for you to forgive yourself." My head drifted to his chest, resting on the steady pounds of his heart. "Just tell me one thing. Did you ever think about me all those years you were gone?"

"Always," he expressed ardently. "You and I, Ember, we're day and night, the sun and the moon. One creates light, the other can only reflect it. I've only ever been able to reflect the light you once shared with me. It fed me, gave me purpose through every wandering."

I looked up at him in his arms. "Will anyone ever know what happened to you out there, the things you saw?"

He uttered uneasily, "I hope the world will never come to know the darkness that I found, but always there was a light with me."

I investigated, "What light?"

"The light of us, our love, whatever it once was worth," he replied.

"It was worth it to me," I concluded as I found the two of us shoving in closer and closer. Beyond any sensible control, we embraced in finality with our mad lips fused together.

The intertwined devotion broke as one of my crew then called out, "We've just reached the perimeter of the Lair!"

The hatch of the Beast of Burden then opened up in a fury. Our fervent passion became accentuated by the wild winds that blew in from the opening. There in the loading bay of my ship, we held onto each other with our arms, like strong vines around a tree. Together, we took in the horrors awaiting outside.

Beyond the hatch was a dark and reddening sky. The pyramid's laser was violently drilling into the fiery expanse of lava and the clouds of ash. Flames had engulfed the surrounding earth. This was the fate the whole world would know if we failed to bring the Blood Tech to an end. This was the fate of my husband, my beloved Dr. Deadstock.

He peered into me with forlorn ultimatum. With a sincere sadness in his eyes, he muttered, "Goodbye."

Abruptly pulling away from my grip, he marched over to the Low Atmo bike. Settling onto the saddle, he retracted the kickstands and prepared to ride out. The engine revved up as the sputtering bike idled.

"Wait," I called over the sound of the roaring engine.

Concerned, he swiveled on his seat. Over his shoulder he looked back at me for one last time. There was something that I needed to find out before the chance was lost forever.

"I know why you left, but you never told me why you came back," I declared.

Deadstock then turned off the rattling engine, revealing his motive to me, "I once warned the world that there would come a day when the Blood Tech no longer served humanity, but instead, enslaved it. On that day, I urged the people to usurp its oppressors as I had once usurped mine. I never thought that it'd have to be me who'd do it in the end, but that's what I've come to do."

"Is that really all?" It was a stirring answer, but I loomed in closer, not yet fully satisfied. "What else is out there? What can't we see in the darkness of space? Tell me what's coming next."

He grew serious, "Life, Ember. Life comes next. Live fully and tell the world nothing of me."