Second Dawn: an Omega Genesis Story

A story set in the Universe of Omega Genesis, an alternate earth with an alternate timeline. Ethan and his companions set out to secure their tribes future.

Dappled light filtered through the crowded canopy of trees, vines and monstrous fungi, alternately painting the jungle floor in shades of light and darkness.

Ethan wriggled his toes through the leaf litter as he sat, chewing the sinewy meat from the over-cooked wing of yesterday‘s catch, some sort of ground fowl that had been run down and caught amongst the undergrowth.

Wiping his mouth free of grease with a grimy hand Ethan looked about and listened to the calls of birds and forest creatures, noting how the crumbling remains of human edifice contrasted sharply with the organic curves and twists of the vegetation that now ran amok in a city fallen to ruin.

“We need to go.”

It was Jamie, the group’s Elder and a veteran of many raids into the inner city. Her hair was prematurely grey, the result of many years of deprivation and struggle against the fury of a world returned to its roots by force and overwhelming primal energies.

Ethan nodded and dropped the now finished bones onto the ground where they were quickly assaulted by crawling bugs that scampered across and began the process of breaking down the organics to absorbable slurry.

The four other hunters in the group prepared their belongings, crude spears fashioned from branches and reclaimed iron, and jagged knives hacked from sheets of copper or sharpened from ancient table implements. Ethan hefted a rough hide sack he’d made from a kangaroo pelt. Inside were his clothes and tools, spikes and rope made from vines; long lasting foods and a precious glass bottle filled with water.

“Let’s go, c’mon” Jamie urged, standing and waving the hunters forward with the tip of her spear. Like Ethan and the others she carried a hide sack and her long legs were criss-crossed with bands and belts, each holding a knife or blade or shank; a veritable armoury with which to defend herself.

Ethan blinked away his weariness, there was no time to truly rest out here in the city ruins; it was simply too dangerous, he could sleep when they returned to the safety of the beach and the protection of the caves.

The group began to move, stepping carefully through the twists of foliage and making sure to avoid the ruptures and sinkholes that tunnelled under the remains of streets and highways; bad things lurked there, things made dangerous by the rapid evolution of life and the dark powers that now held power over the Earth.

A soft chittering nearby caused the hunting group to stop abruptly, spears pointed towards the direction of the noise. In the city there were many things that could kill and not all of them lurked underneath the ground. The vegetation grew quiet as if in anticipation of what was to come and Ethan could feel his heart begin to beat harder underneath the worn leather smock that clothed his chest.

The chittering began again, this time from behind the humans, then to the right, then the left and then behind them again. It grew louder until the chittering was a cacophony of wild laughter.

“Ready yourselves.” ordered Jamie, clutching her spear and crouching low in preparation.

Ethan and the other hunters formed a circle, Ethan to Jamie’s left; Marcus and Jillian behind them. Ethan bumped up hard against Jillian’s back and his concentration shifted.

At the worst possible moment

From the trees they leapt, gaunt, grinning and chittering with insane laughter, like the hunters the attackers had spears and knives, tipped not with steel or copper but with bone; sharpened to points or wickedly hooked and barbed.

Ethan knew their kind and knew the danger they faced; thieves and skulkers and murderers, few things that walked on two legs were viler than goblyns.

Jamie hissed as she thrust forward her spear, lancing one of the creatures through the chest and dragging down her weapon with its weight. The other goblyns circled the hunters, jabbing forward with their own weapons, their gangly arms offsetting heights below any of the humans.

Ethan stabbed forward and the goblin jerked to the side, laughing at the miss. Ethan grunted in exertion as he dragged the spear tip across, cutting the goblyn’s chest with its bladed edge. The wretched creature shrieked in pain and its companions shrieked in turn but with laughter at their companion’s misfortune.

“I hate goblyns.” screamed Marcus and Ethan had to agree, they infested the city ruins and were one of the prime reasons why humanity still struggled in the wilds.

More goblyns were emerging from the thick undergrowth wary of the prepared humans and circling with ready weapons, by now there were easily a dozen of the diminutive aggressors jabbering and shrieking around Ethan and his companions.

“Don’t give up!” yelled Jamie, driving her spear through another of the deadly pests as it drew too close. Ethan wasn’t going to anyway; he hadn’t survived this long just to be killed by greasy little monsters. He caught a goblin armed with a club a blow across its wide snouty mouth and it fell away, tangling a second goblyn as it went. Ethan stepped forward to finish it off with a fierce thrust before he moved back into the circle.

Seeing their initial attack had failed and that several of their companions were dead or unconscious the rest of the goblyns began to hesitate, hoping another of their kind would take the initiative; instead Jamie made sure they paid for their hesitation, grimly stepping into gaps to deliver killing blows. As a further two of the cowardly things went down the nerve of the others broke and they fled shrieking.

“Don’t follow.” Snarled Jamie, they all knew that goblyns were cowards but adept at setting ambushers for pursuing enemies. As the last survivor vanished into the tangles plants and trees Ethan breathed a sigh of relief, his chest heaving.

“Is everyone okay?” Jillian asked.

Marcus has a cut on his arm and Jillian herself had a gash to her knee but that was about all. Jamie snorted.

“Goblyns are pathetic.”

“Famous last words.” laughed Marcus.

They weren’t Jamie’s last words but they were Marcus’. From the ground one of the “dead” goblins rolled over and thrust upward with its spear, driving it deep into Marcus’ groin. As the companions looked on in stunned horror Marcus fell onto his knees in shock blood gushing from his wound. The goblyn cackled in delight before Jamie drove her spear into its face, bellowing in rage. The goblyn died instantly but Marcus took long moments to finally succumb.

No one said a thing as they watched the inevitable; finally, it was over and nothing could be done.

“Let’s go.” said Jamie blandly.

They continued on in silence, the previous mood of enthusiastic hope squashed by Marcus’ death. There was not time to bury him and burning the corpse would only draw attention. Bird calls and the distant shrieks of animals rose throughout the forest again but it only made the humans more wary, the worst predators weren’t those that provoked silence but those that were cloaked in it themselves.

The ruins began to rise around the group as they pushed on, changing from the last low walls of shanties and single story homes to the dangerously leaning walls of half crushed office blocks. As Ethan, Jamie and Jillian came to what once had been a park Jamie ordered a halt, at least here they had a good range of vision and could catch their breath before continuing on. Ethan took another swig of water from his bottle, passing it to Jillian and Jamie, who both accepted it thankfully. Looking at the edges of the park, to where the vegetation grew thick; Ethan thought he could see shadowed forms pacing, watching and judging the three surviving humans. What they were he didn’t know and he tried not to think too much about it.

“We used to be able to fly like them, you know?”

It was Jillian; he was looking up towards the sky at the birds wheeling above, the thick cloud cover rolling slowly across the world; a grey blanket that was heavy and oppressive on the senses.

Jamie snorted “Well, not anymore. We don’t even have cars, let alone planes or things like that. Best we can do is bob along in a  breeze.”

Jillian frowned and so did Ethan; they had both heard the stories told by their grandparents, about how once humans ruled the earth, unopposed masters of the land, sea and sky. Now they struggled to exist as greater horrors stalked the decaying cities and beasts roamed the sea and sky. Few places were safe and humanity’s future was doomed to uncertainty.

Someday, the stories said; the “Ark” would return from the stars and bring with it new hope. Ethan felt sure that was just a story to stop people killing themselves in despair as the population dwindled, killed off by disease, predators or the horrific mutants that had haunted the earth since the Revelation.

Jamie stood again and hefted her pack. “C’mon” she said simply and the trio resumed walking, seeing their objective looming above the tree line ahead.

Centenary Towers

Even after over a hundred years it was still a treasure trove of lost riches. Once, the headquarters of some great corporation, it had been abandoned by its owners during Revelation but had quickly been colonised by beasts, goblyns and mutant filth in the wake of the devastation that had visited Earth. Now the remaining humans sought to claim it for themselves but first of all they needed to find a way inside to scout out just how much of a threat the inhabitants would be. Ethan’s group were not the first to attempt the mission but he hoped they would be the first to return successfully.

Jillian held up a hand as they drew close to the towers. “Wait.” She said.

The others complied immediately and both raised their spears, ready for action.

“Look at these ruins here.” Jillian said, crossing a path to squat by a broken wall. “These ruins have been knocked down on purpose, their decay isn’t natural.”

“So” grumbled Jamie, “Why does that matter?”

Jillian pointed toward the towers, now visible through the vegetation. “It matters because it means now we can be targeted by whatever is in there; they’ve cleared the walls and the vegetation here for a reason.”

“Goblyns aren’t that smart.” chuckled Jamie, though there was no humour in her laugh.

“What do you think we should do?” asked Ethan, cocking his head as he listened.

“There’s nothing we can do except go forward or go back.” Stated Jamie; “Even if the goblyns can see us we have to go in and get to the top of that tower.”

“We won’t be doing much if we’re dead.” said Ethan.

Jillian agreed with a nod of her head. “That’s right; Ethan, that’s why you’re going in first by yourself.”

Ethan’s face screwed up as he looked first at the building through the trees, then at Jillian.

“Alone? You’re joking right?” he laughed nervously.

“It’s the best option we have Ethan.” said Jamie, placing her hand on his shoulder. “It was going to be Marcus but he’s gone. The council said you’d be the next choice.”

“When was I going to be told about this? Didn’t I get a say?” protested Ethan, dragging Jamie’s hand off his shoulder.

“Look Ethan.” said Jamie, her tone firm. “It’s this simple, I’m the leader and if you didn’t know Jillian’s pregnant; we’re not risking her any more than we have to.”

Ethan was momentarily blindsided. “She’s pregnant?”

Jillian nodded. “Yes, Marcus was the father.” A hint of moisture crept into her eyes as she tried to look at Ethan steadily.

“Oh for f**k’s sake,” sighed Ethan, “fine then; let’s get on with it.”

The trio prepared their gear for Ethan’s mission, they checked his pack and the special tools it held, then reorganised everything else to make sure he wasn’t over-burdened. Finally Jamie stood up and looked at Ethan.

“Are you ready?” she asked seriously.

“Hell no.” he grumbled, “but I might as well get on with it.”

By the light filtering through the clouds it was the middle of the afternoon now and Ethan crept towards the building making the best use of cover he could. Here, like in the depths of the tangled forest fungi and strange shrubs burst from the soil and clumped together making the landscape look fey and foreboding.

Ethan could feel his heart beating in his chest and his breath rang in his ears with every step he took; the building seemed like an imposing monolith now that he was close, a cyclopean tower eighty storeys tall, its dust covered sides still gleaming black in the afternoon light.

“Straight to the top.” Ethan whispered to himself as he stepped up to the front doorway, its panels long since wrenched off and lying in discarded pieces on the ground.

“In we go.” he breathed.

The foliage from outside had already infiltrated the tower’s foyer; puddles of water cast dark reflections of the surroundings and the fronds and vines of parasitic plants wound hither and thither across the floors and up the marble columns.

The skeletal remains of creatures were strewn about the room, odd bones or full corpses of goblyns, ogres and humans as well as animals that may once have been dogs or cats or other unidentifiable things.

As Ethan stepped forward rats scurried to hiding places and his footsteps echoed impossibly loudly despite him carefully avoiding the panels of shattered grass and drying vines that criss-crossed the floor. He held his spear firmly, but kept himself loose enough to move at a sprint if needed. Wind whistled down the shaft of disused elevator, trying to steal Ethan’s attention but he kept his eyes peeled and made sure not to miss any movement.

At the base of the lobby stairs Ethan looked up towards the mezzanine level; as in the foyer only rats moved about and even then only when they could scuttle from cover to cover.

Ethan’s trepidation rose, rats were not usually so cautious these days and in the settlements and caves where he had lived they were brave enough to attack those asleep, especially children. Why would they be so afraid here? Goblyns? Perhaps, but unlikely. It wouldn’t be ogres either for the great brutes were far too clumsy to pose a threat to an agile rodent.

It must be something else.

He climbed the foyers stairs, the mouldy, slime covered carpets squelched in protest under Ethan’s weight and he winced every time the filthy covering let out a flatulent sigh or burp. His eyes became adjusted to the dim light as he slowly ascended the stairs, enabling him to make out the details of a once rich room, now coated in smears of excrement and bodily remains. He noted the presence of long dead corpses that had been ripped apart, sections of torsos spread metres apart, a crushed skull and shattered ribcages.

What could have done this?

In the gloom his eyes searched for a service stairwell, a direct route to the highest levels of the tower and an escape from this dreary death trap.

There, half hidden by lichen spreading across its surface but ajar. A good sign that Ethan would not need to force it open.

The wooden panels were spongy from decay; holes from borer beetles pockmarked its surface and as Ethan slowly pulled the door out towards him flecks of wood peeled away and tumbled to the floor, sending exposed beetles and wood worms squirming deeper into its surface.

The stairwell was pitch black, Ethan gritted his teeth; he’d hoped there would be at least a little light filtering through.

He crouched beside the door and checked his surroundings before reaching into a pouch on his belt and withdrawing a fat tallow candle. Next came the precious and ancient zippo lighter, a tarnished oddity entrusted to Ethan by his grandfather and a boon to his efforts for survival. Very little fuel remained in it these days but he would never willingly relinquish it. That was one of the reasons he had to be the one to ascend the tower.

With a quiet click the lighter produced a small flame which Ethan set against the candle; creating a spitting, hissing light within seconds. It stank or oil and grease but resources were limited and if nothing else the tallow would burn for several hours before being spent.

Ethan rose, replacing his gear in his pouches and holding the candle high, his spear placed before him with his other hand.

He began to climb.

The silence was the worst part, not even rats moved around the stairwell that rose up into the unseen heights. Every step Ethan tried to place his foot gently, to prevent the corroded metal stairs from calling out in clanging alarm.

Two floors, then three, then four and five he climbed. Quietly, gently, the candle’s greasy flame lighting the way.

Up he went, level eight and nine, then ten, eleven and twelve.

No other sounds, no rats, no moths; just the silent twinkling slime that ran down dank concrete walls.

Ethan stopped and caught his breath and for a second closed his eyes. He was weary; not from the ascent alone, but from the struggle. Every day a fight to survive, to exist, every day he wished he could just give up and release himself to the dark of night, to become one with the earth, to die.

That wasn’t right, Ethan was a fighter and there was no way he would surrender his life. Why had he thought that?

He held his breath and just for a second thought he heard the breath of something else.

Then there was nothing.

He nervously shifted his grip on spear and candle, then continued his ascent.

Up he went, level thirteen and fourteen, up fifteen and sixteen and seventeen and again he had to rest.

What was wrong with him? He could run all day but he felt his limbs aching from the effort.

Better to lay down and sleep, just give up, just surrender.

Ethan span around and gazed into the darkness.

The darkness stared back.

With the light of the candle around him Ethan couldn’t see far into the gloom but he felt its presence as it slunk back into shadows, a darker night, a blacker jet than just an absence of light.

Not just his imagination.

Whatever it was, it was no goblyn or beast or mutant, what followed Ethan seemed both less than that and much more than he could believe.

Waiting would achieve nothing, he carried on but now the fear of whatever followed him slowly crept into his bones; occasionally he would stop and spin round, hoping and fearing to catch a glance of what lurked in the shadows below.

Ethan’s breathing was ragged now, the air seemed colder. His heart beat hard in his chest and above the stairwell stretched on into infinity.

He would not fail; Ethan gritted his teeth and continued the climb.

Onto the twentieth floor, the twenty first and twenty second, his arms and legs heavy and beginning to shake with the exertion; soon he would need to rest but he knew he could not rest here on the stairs. Ethan looked at the fire door that led to the rest of the twenty second floor, what lay behind the flaking red paint? Could he afford the risk?

He had to, if he needed to fight whatever lurked behind him he would need his strength, to carry on up the stairs right now would only leave him exhausted and weak.

Weakness meant death.

He pulled at the handle, the heavy weight of the door resisting his pull and moving with a piercing shriek of grinding metal. Ethan winced, but slipped through the gap as fast as possible, pushing the door closed behind him. With his breath catching in his throat he hoped whatever followed wouldn’t be able to use a handle.

Hopefully no dangers lurked in the darkened corners of the twenty second floor.

Ethan’s candle flicked and danced in a draft, something here on this floor led to the outside although it was still pitch black outside the small circle of light. His hands sweated uncontrollably, was it his imagination that something breathed on the other side of the fire door? He must press on.

The walls here were once white, but now were stained with rot and mould, lines of dirty water dribbled from long corroded pipes and plaster flaked from the walls as the interiors slowly fell into disrepair; the carpet was long decayed into a filthy mat of slimy hair that slipped under Ethan’s bare feet, filling him with anxious disgust.

He pressed on.

Doors to the left and right of him opened into little rooms, once upon a time these would have been bustling offices; filled with the light and noise of a world filled with the wonders of technology, now only the smashed, plundered and broken remains of broken furniture and useless tools lay here and there, another sad reminder of how far humanity had fallen.

He needed a safe place to rest, but the smell of air free of the taint of mould and mildrew compelled Ethan to keep moving, his candle danced more fiercely now in the breeze and he sheltered the precious flame with his spear wielding arm as he peered cautiously into the gloom.

A trilling shriek and Ethan stepped back, lowering his weapon and causing him to startle; a rat, fat and sleek screamed its annoyance as Ethan disturbed it cannibalising another rat’s corpse.

It was as if even the rats had found a way to fall further from grace, the natural order becoming a grotesque version of itself, a mirror to the tragic wreck that humanity had engineered for itself.

The thought only made Ethan more determined to succeed here today, his would not be the last generation of humanity to walk the earth, his would be the generation to reclaim what once was lost.

He almost died then, lost in his own thoughts. If his spear had not been half lowered the thrust of the mutant attacker’s spear would have swept into his chest. As it was Ethan’s reflexes helped him lean aside so the rusting triangle of metal only grazed his arm.

The thing may have once been a human but now it was merely a parody, a waxen, half formed face with a solitary milky eye and a sucking mouth gurgled in frustration. Limbs painted with slime and ichor camouflaged the thing in the darkness, hiding the yellowed skin of its pale flesh.

The thing was emaciated, its ribs sticking out and its elbows knobbly, but for all its skinny frame it was no less determined to make today Ethan’s last day.

Ethan rolled under a second thrust of the spear, this one clumsy as the mutant seemed blinded by the fitful light, but with the rush of motion the candle’s precious light died and Ethan had to fight in cloying darkness.

He punched out, not with the tip of his spear but with his fist, catching the mutant and knocking it towards the slime covered wall. He heard the wet thump of impact and now took the opportunity to thrust hard with the spear as the creature reeled. The point drove deep into flesh and the pale thing squealed in pain, fluid gushed onto Ethan’s face, whether spit or blood or other he could not tell.

Ethan closed his eyes and rolled again, this time toward where the mutant had come from, he heard the thing’s spear strike the wall opposite as it slashed wildly, staying low Ethan swept around with a kick and almost smiled as he clipped the things’ legs, sending it crashing to the ground.

Rising up Ethan brought his spear down hard in the darkness; sending it lancing through the mutant’s body and pinning it to the floor before leaping away, leaving his spear and drawing a knife.

 

The thing still thrashed and struggled, its mewling cries for help or mercy unheeded. Ethan kept his eyes closed in the dark as he listened for other threats, as the seconds passed into minutes he started to relax, the flapping kicks of the creature grew feeble, then stilled.

Ethan exhaled.

He stayed in his crouch for more long moments, still listening in the silence for sounds of other horrors in the dark.

He could hear nothing but a distant scuttle of rats, the chittering of fat spiders; but no footfalls, no wild gnashing of teeth.

If the creatures of this place could talk then word would spread that a new predator had arrived and to stay clear. That was fine by Ethan although only a fool would think that anyone was safe here in the shuttered darkness.

With the mutant surely dead Ethan slowly, carefully and patiently searched around the spongy floor for his dropped candle; luckily it was only moments before he found it and he fished out the zippo again before reverently lighting the wick once more.

As the soft glow of the candle illuminated the hallway Ethan took time to investigate the mutant’s corpse. This thing may once have been human, or perhaps it was born a mutant; the unfortunate result of skewed evolution and meddling in the work of nature. Although he had killed it Ethan couldn’t hate the thing that lay before him. It was terrifying in the darkness with its strange mouth and twisted features but in death it just looked starved and weak. Scars covered its transluscent flesh and its drying blood stunk, as did the pool of urine it had released in its final moments of life.

But why was it starving so badly? Surely it could have found enough rats or other vermin to subsist on, even Ethan and his tribe weren’t above eating rodents and the multitude of small animals that lived in settlements and in the undergrowth outside. A nearby door had been left askew and Ethan peered inside, once this was a corner office; the floor to ceiling window was dark, a result of still functioning technology that dampened light, trapping it for use as energy. That was one of the main reasons Ethan was here. Placing the candle on a desk that was only partially crumbling, Ethan set down his pack and fished out a small ball of baked bread. Even now the smell of it filled him with enthusiasm; the simple hearty food a reminder of what humanity could be and should be, an inspiration to keep going until they had reclaimed all that they had lost. Ethan couldn’t help but grin at his own sentimentality and idealism, squatting here in the dark surrounded by mutants, rats and earth knew whatever else.

The bread ball was quickly finished and again Ethan took up his candle and spear; walking cautiously back towards the stairwell. As he drew near though he halted uncertainly, the door looked different. When he had left the stairwell the door had been corroding but was still solid enough to prove an obstacle to most things, now it was rusted to the point of falling apart and leaned off its hinges slightly. If it had had any ability to keep predators away from the floor before, it was surely now lost.

Licking his dry lips Ethan listened for noise. Nothing stirred, not even the rats. Was that a good thing? Experience said no.

But he wouldn’t be halted; he stepped towards the door and used the butt of his spear to push it open; the hinges groaning in despair at the movement. With every second of the grating sound Ethan winced and he slipped through the gap as soon as he was able before beginning his climb once again.

Up he went, to twenty two, twenty three, twenty four. He paused for breath and listened but again nothing but silence answered.

Twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven.

Pause, listen, silence.

Twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty.

Ethan paused and listened, nothing.

Not even his own heartbeat, not his breathing or his pulse.

There was no sound, he shifted his foot to hear the scrape of metal, nothing.

The candle suddenly guttered and died and in the darkness Ethan’s eyes grew wide. He searched up the stairs and down, spinning with his spear before him.

Nothing.

He carefully brought out his zippo with his free hand and shifted the candle to his other, the lighter clicked softly and the stairwell was bathed in pale light.

Was that a sigh?

He could see nothing; his breathing was loud and fast.

Was it nothing? Was he imagining things?

Ethan started to sweat, cold and prickling as it trickled across his brow and down his neck,

What was out there?

His eyes search the gloom, but nothing stirred.

He continued up the stairs, his heart racing and his breath a ragged echo.

Thirty one, thirty two, thirty three.

Laughter far below, softly bouncing around the concrete staircase.

Was he dreaming?

Ethan felt tired and weary, his nerves were beginning to fray but he had barely climbed at all since his rest. What was wrong? Was he going mad?

Was something in his head?

He stopped and looked up and down the stairwells. He adjusted the spear with his sweating hands, its shaft was wet and slippery.

Was that a sigh?

He had heard that sigh before, everyone knew that sigh, the sigh of something well fed and ready to rest after a hearty meal.

For Ethan it was a sigh he often wished he could feel, but rarely could.

“Do you fear me?”

The question came out of the darkness; tinged with amusement but guttural and harsh; as if the voice that owned the words had little use for speaking.

Ethan said nothing but his eyes widened as he span left and right, trying to spot the source of the question.

“Do you fear me?” the voice repeated, this time insistent.

Then it stepped from the shadows.

Tall, lean; dressed in robes of flat black and with a face as dark as coal. A single horn sprouted from a forehead covered in scars, each one a tiny letter or rune beyond Ethan’s understanding.

It was a woman.

Of sorts.

If not for the scars and the horn she could be called beautiful, if not for the points of her teeth she could be called alluring and if not for the onyx orbs of her eyes she could be called charming.

But she was none of these things; Ethan knew what this woman was.

She was a devil.

“Stay away.” Ethan warned, although his fear carried across the short space between them and the devil stepped closer, her hand held calmly by her sides.

“I mean you no harm human, you have already filled my needs.” The thing said quietly, with a demure grace and the hint of a smile.

“Say nothing fiend.” Spat Ethan, his temper banishing his fear. “I’ll not fall for any trick of yours.”

Now the devil laughed, a haughty rich laugh, condescending and delightful at the same time.

“I’m not the sort to require trickery human, my nature itself provides for all of my needs. I simply wish to ask a question and have you truthful word.”

Ethan tried to calm his nerves and waved his spear at the devil woman’s chest. “I’ll answer none of your questions abomination, I’d rather die.” He spat venomously.

The devil shrugged unconcerned. “I’d prefer it not come to violence of course, but you will find I can be most persuasive if necessary and you may have noticed that there is a distinct lack of other sentient life forms in this home of mine. I’d hope that would be warning enough to play nice.”

Now Ethan snarled at the black skinned thing, his eyes unfocused momentarily, his head swam “You can’t threaten me; this tower was built by humans and one day it will be ours again. You might kill me but you can’t win against us all. I’ll give you a chance to leave right now and never come back.”

The devil woman laughed again. “Threats now?” it smiled, “Surely you jest, it could be considered plainly rude to speak so to a lady and especially one whose name you don’t yet know.”

“I don’t need to know your name.” shouted Ethan, driving his spear forward.

“Please tell me your name.” Ethan whispered.

“My name is Lilith”, breathed the devil, stepping slowly aside from the spear.

“My name is Lilith”, breathed the devil stepping closer to Ethan.

“I’ll kill you fiend!” shouted Ethan, striking out with his fist

“Please forgive me.” Whispered Ethan, bending his knee.

“What is your name?” asked the devil catching Ethan’s fist in her palm.

“What is your name?” asked the devil, cupping Ethan’s chin in her hand.

“I am Ethan!” he screamed defiantly as his arm was twisted around without apparent effort.

“I am Ethan.” He whispered as she caressed his neck.

“You are mine.” Lilith murmured and Ethan knew no more.

 

 

Was it the scent of honeyed musk he smelt? Or the reek of decaying excrement and flyblown offal?

Ethan opened his eyes slowly to find it was both and neither and then as he focused on the unearthly features of Lilith he could see only her and smelt nothing but adoration.

He lay reclined on the velvety softness of a chaise lounge, lilac and lavender pillows gently cradling his head as Lilith’s hand stroked his cheek, her eyes warm dark pools, her lips parted in satisfaction as she sat next to him, lightly perched on the lounge’s gilt edges.

“You are awake, my love.” She purred with a smile both innocent and lavicious.

“I am.” Ethan replied with his own smile, attempting to sit up and take in the room.

French polished, hardwood furniture, ornate silver bowls laden with exotic fruits, carafes and urns filled with dark red vintages that smelt both fresh and sweet, a paradise in one room.

Lilith pushed Ethan gently back down onto the lounge and placed an ebony finger-tip on his lips. “Shhhh, my love; you have woken too early. It is not yet time.”

Time for what, was Ethan’s thought but he said nothing, again laying himself flat on the lounge, there was no need to rush; he had all day to complete his mission.

His mission?

What was he thinking of? There was no mission, everything else was unimportant except his time here with Lilith, the love of his life and his dream come true.

Fangs flashed in the darkness.

She was his devoted servant.

The sound of ripping flesh echoed.

He could stay here forever

A savaged carcass, riddled with maggots.

He was the Emperor of Earth and she was his slave.

He would have no slaves.

He would have no slaves.

Humans would be free!

The illusion shattered.

Ethan looked at Lilith beside him and saw now she was no vision of beauty but a slavering hag, surrounded by gaggles of flat featured goblyns in a room hung with chains and dripping corpses.

With a sudden leap he jumped from his bed, the flayed remains of a half dozen rotting humans, he was naked and covered in esoteric runes, jagged lines of verse and twisted script.

He was to be an offering.

Lilith stood and glared at him, he features both glorious in their hate and terrifying in their beauty, the illusion overlaying her natural form like a translucent veil.

She hissed at him, extending jagged claws at his face.

He roundhouse kicked her in the temple, knocking her down hard, sending vermin scuttling.

The goblyns in the room looked dazed, confused as if themselves waking from a dream. At first they didn’t know what to make of the human in their midst, but Ethan knew they would soon recover.

He shot forward, shoulder barging a pair of the diminutive creatures aside although he had no idea where he was trying to go.

The room was a charnel house, maybe at some point in the distant past it was a board room or perhaps a small function centre; he didn’t know or care. He still needed to reach the roof and achieve his mission.

What level was he on?

He saw a set of mouldering double doors and burst through, entering a corridor, walls painted in faeces and icons daubed in blood. At the end of the corridor the fire exit and the stairs.

Ethan ran, naked as the day he was born towards the flaking metal door, pushing it open with both hands and barely halting in time to stop himself plummeting down the stairwell a dozen floors to where the stairs lay in tangled ruins.

Unlike the stairwell below these one had been made of perforated steel steps and centuries of corrosion had taken their toll. Above his head, only three levels Ethan saw the remaining flights of steps that exited onto the roof; he was so close, but there was no way to reach.

There would be other stairs, the building would have two sets; he just needed to reach the others. He turned.

Lilith stumbled from the doorway to her lair, blood dripping down her neck and across the rancid smock of flayed flesh she wore as a dress. She pointed at Ethan and screamed an unintelligible curse. Goblyns surged out into the corridor around her feet, grasping crude knives and other weapons, including Ethan’s spear.

Ethan shouldered open a door to his left, hoping it would give him some options. Like Lilith’s lair the room was covered in filth, goblyn whelps hissed and screamed at him from their cots and bedding while their carers, what Ethan guessed were females, prepared to defend their offspring.

Ethan ignored them, he wasn’t here for infanticide; he did wrest a twisted length of tubing from a rack next to the wall, a crude spear fashioned from plastic pipe and capped with a blade of rusting iron. Good enough.

He sprinted across the room towards another door, bursting through and interrupting a gaggle of goblyns in the midst of bathing; who knew goblyns cared about hygiene? These creatures merely stared at the naked human in shock.

The room went nowhere so he doubled back to the crèche, taking the remaining door just as Lilith’s goblyns poured in from the hallway. This time the infants’ guardians stepped towards the rushing human but only managed to get between Lilith’s warriors and their much larger prey, causing commotion as several went down in a tangle of limbs and infant goblyns screeched even louder than before at the disturbance.

Ethan ignored them all and continued through the door, leading with a kick that smashed the softened wood apart. He found himself in another large room, this one a larder of sorts hung with sides of caught animals, captured humans and several limbless mutants, only identifiable by the marks of torture on their twisted features. A pair of goblyns were approaching through the fleshy forest of hanging cadavers and Ethan bellowed as he hurtled towards them, sending one scrambling for cover as the other brought up a carving knife in defence.

The naked human was having none of that and lanced the little beast through the chest with his spear, the impact forcing the weapon from his grasp. That was stupid.

Two more doors exited the room, Ethan guessed one would rejoin the corridor and the other would leader further around the building. He took the second and hoped he was right.

As he clambered through the doorway, slamming the barrier closed behind him he saw this room was different. It had no doors leading from it at all, but it did have a great pile of furniture that lay piled high in the middle of the room, leading to a hole in the ceiling. An exit of sorts was better than none.

Ethan climbed up the teetering pile of poorly stacked chairs and tables, kicking behind him several times to ward of his chattering pursuers.; grasping the lip of the floor above he pulled himself up, kicking back hard again to start an avalanche of wooden detritus that knocked down the goblyns close behind to send them sprawling into an outraged Lilith.

As he pulled himself onto the floor Ethan chanced a look behind him, the goblyns were already stacking the furniture again, he had only gained moments. He rushed away.

This time he took a door he knew would lead to a central corridor; at one end would be the broken stairwell, but with some luck another would be placed at the opposite side. He ran, feeling his heart thump in his chest and his breath come in gasps. His flight had caused him several minor wounds and blood streamed from his bicep and thighs; several small shards of glass had somehow lodged themselves in his chest as well.

This floor was light. Unlike those below Ethan could see his surroundings clearly now and with a gasp saw that the windows around the building, normally blacked out or covered were here completely broken. All around him he could see the outside world and feel the humid breezes of late spring. Little excrement coated the walls and no bodies lined the floor; the carpet was filthy with dust and threadbare but in no way was it like the putrid matting below.

Why was it different?

He had no time to wonder. He continued to stagger down the hallway towards the looming red steel fire-escape door. Pushing it open he almost fell inside to land on the second stairwell. This one rose complete to the roof-top level, but below had been shorn away; from the looks of things deliberately.

The sounds of shrieking goblyns filtered in from behind as the first of his pursuers climbed up onto this level. Their hissing cries changed from being anger to pain as their eyes and grimy skin burnt in the natural light, unused to the sun’s harsh rays like humans were.

Ethan used his bleeding arms to help pushing himself up every step, stomping past the seventy eighth and seventy ninth floor and into the very top level of Centenary Towers. This was where he needed to be, now there was one more thing to do.

He looked around the corridor he emerged into, trying to get his bearings. The goblyns were drawing near despite their pain and discomfort in the sun’s bright light and Ethan could hear Lilith’s frenzied raging orders being screamed at them from behind.

Here too the sun’s light streamed in, except the windows were still intact, just tilted open. Ethan closed his eyes and remembered the diagrams drawn in the dirt of the camp, showing the layout of this most important level.

“Two lefts, then a right.” He muttered as he opened his eyes.

Each step was a torture as Ethan’s breath came ragged and gasping. First left into a board room replete with a oval table and leather backed chairs, untouched for two centuries.

The second left was to a windowless box of a place; tall glass cabinets stacked full of darkened machines sat silent and lifeless.

The right.

Into a room no more than three strides wide, a bank of monitors to the side and a large red switch surrounded by yellow and black chevrons and safety warnings.

Master Fuse Switch. Read the sign above it.

Closing his eyes and hoping for the best Ethan took the three steps into the room and laid both hands on the lever, using his deadweight to drag it down into the on position.

It his the bottom of its casing with a “clunk”

Light.

Not the natural light that filtered through the windows but the glorious, angelical light of human genius, electrical light driven through the skeleton of the long sleeping skeleton of Centenary Towers and into the pores of the wall panels, roof indents and floor lamps.

Light that peeked through the caked filth and dust of the goblyn barracks and nursery where the diminutive creatures covered their eyes and wailed in pain, light that flooded the stairwell where Lillith’s infernal form began to smoulder like grass in the summer sun.

Light that sent the hundreds of craving mutants hiding in shadows to flee for their lives as the hated warmth and energy bathed their corrupted flesh, burning them and scorching their milky, wasted eyes.

Light, spelling hope for the humans and perhaps a return to the days of old; where humans ruled the planet and did not live light rodents, cowering in caves and in primitive settlements.

Ethan staggered away from the generator room, watching in awe as the banks of long unused computers began to cycle into life and the energy generated from the towers’ ebony solar power windows spread like lifeblood through a body. He returned to the stairs and climbed the last few steps to the top, slamming down the magnetic lock and releasing the door lever that had resisted his tribes’ best efforts to enter the building.

He stepped out on the roof to the cheers of a dozen other people, those who had travelled here in a crude air balloon which floated nearby, tethered to the building by long vines.

“We have a new home.” Ethan sighed, smiling.

“Humanity has returned.”

 

 

 

Author's Note

It is still rough, but happy to take comments.