Part III: Apocatastasis

“And I looked, and behold a white cloud, and upon the cloud one sat like unto the Son of man, having on his head a golden crown, and in his hand a sharp sickle. And another angel came out of the temple, crying with a loud voice to him that sat on the cloud, Thrust in thy sickle, and reap: for the time is come for thee to reap; for the harvest of the earth is ripe…” – Revelation 14:14-15

XL.

April 27th, 2310 – Calivada/Texico Border

A young boy stared up at a sky of fire. “What class of starship do you think that was?” he asked, watching the fireballs rain from the heavens above as the cruiser erupted in the lower atmosphere. The detonation cleared the clouds around it in an instant. “Odyssey Class Downeaster, judging from the popping when it exploded. They have old eight-chambered drives that do that when they malfunction. I think it was the HLV O’Brien. I heard it was still in duty, shipping people to Mars…”

His mother said nothing. Instead, she just pulled him along at the wrist. It was fine though, she didn’t need to speak. They had run out of things to talk about by the time he was eight, and even then, she could never keep up. His father could. He always knew what to say to counter his arguments, to make him think. But in the end, his father couldn’t keep up in a more vital way. A week past and a few dozen miles back, they had been ambushed by what his mother called ‘demons’. They surely looked the part, but he guessed that they were really something else: aliens, mutants, men in masks, something more plausible. They had killed his father, or rather he hoped they had anyways. It was a hope born of love rather than hate, having heard tale of much worse fates than a quick death.

Some part of him knew it hadn’t exactly been an ambush, that they had been followed for quite awhile and his parents had just ‘kept’ it from him. That same part also knew that his mother had done something horrible to assure that they escaped. He didn’t know what, but he knew she hadn’t given his father a second thought as they fled. She hadn’t screamed, hadn’t stalled even a little when their assailants sprung upon her husband. She didn’t even look back when it happened. No, she had just grabbed onto her son’s wrist tight as she did, and refused to talk about it ever again.

Now they drudged on through rotting fields of grass towards the proverbial promised land – a ship, his mother claimed, called the Tevat. The boy didn’t believe her, and neither had his dad. It was a pipedream, literally. She had sworn up and down to the both of them that a being of light, an angel, had shown itself to her one night in a dream. The angel, it had promised her a life away from all the pain and corruption, a way to inoculate them against it even. That was, if they could reach them in time. To that, the boy’s father laughed and stared down at his arm, twisted and gnarled, splitting down the middle into a set. “Can’t undo what’s already in the blood,” he had said with a exasperated but not unkindly huff. “Do you really think I’m so unlucky and you aren’t?” They had argued all night and for what felt like a week after as well, but all the same, they left for the mythical ark not long after that.

That was about a year ago. They had started up in the northern part of Pacific Columbia, inching there way south to avoid going east through Chipeta. Only madmen and fools went through Chipeta, and the only thing that came out were tales of monsters and horror. Now, though, they were about to cross over into the once great state of Texico, which didn’t have a much better reputation. A whole year of stumbling over life-threatening hurdles, looking for a castle in the sky, and the boy was sick of it. He would be ten in a few days, he thought idlily as she dragged him along. He doubted his mother would even remember, and he couldn’t help but remember how his father had never once forgotten.

All she ever thought of now was the delusional ‘angel’ and her fantasy spaceship. The boy often wondered if holding on to him was merely habitual with no real feeling behind it – or maybe he was just what she had to offer, her ticket aboard. After what had happened to his father, he had his reservations about her motherly commitment to him. “Jan,” his mother spoke at last as they hiked over a grassy hill, “we’re close now… Can you feel it?” she asked, not waiting for an answer before uttering dreamily, “I feel it. Feels like… the warmth of my wedding night. The kindness those first few years had to offer behind the wall…”

That was the first time she had mentioned anything related to his father since he had died. Jan didn’t know whether he should feel comforted or worried by the change. Had she finally started to come to terms with what happened, or was she simply falling deeper into her madness? He couldn’t tell. Jan could barely remember living behind the wall. He had only been five when they got kicked out due to reasons his parents would never explain. When asked, his father would wisely say nothing, but his mother would always say how it wasn’t his fault, which only made him think otherwise. Kindness behind the wall was just another one of her delusions though. What little Jan did remember was being bullied and threatened at every opportunity by the other kids, always calling him a freak and a mutant. Some of the adults did as well, though mostly behind his back, even despite the doctor assuring them all, his parents included, that it was only a cleft lip. They had them before the apocalypse, he had said, and they’d have them afterwards, and that not everything was a sign of corruption. Jan still wondered, touching his face as he remembered his father’s twinning arm.

Another day passed and they found themselves passing through the wreckage of the ship they had witnessed prior. Pieces of it spread of for what looked like miles in all directions, with hardly a foot between them. What grassland had been there had burned away in the night as the fragments of the ship pocked the area like a meteor shower. It had in fact been the HLV O’Brien, Jan discovered, finding it’s name printed on a shredded piece of hull. He prodded at it inquisitively. “How many people were on board, you think?” He asked, full well knowing his mother wouldn’t deign him with an answer. “Maybe it was just a skeleton crew, since they were on their way back and all… I wonder what caused the failure. I wonder if anyone was waiting for them…”

“If they were pure,” his mother said, much to his surprise, as she tiptoed through the rubble, “they’re with her now. She welcomes all those pure of body and soul, Jan… Which is why we must hurry, before this place corrupts us like it did your father. I won’t let you burn… I won’t… I won’t…”

Jan stared unsurprised by her seemingly senseless remarks. When ever she did speak, it was usually gibberish like that, so he had since come to expect as much. His father hadn’t been religious and neither was he, so Jan never found any real meaning in her words. She hadn’t been either, until her ‘vision’ that is. Jan sighed, glancing for a moment longer at the sliver of hull before carrying on, passing through the field of torn metal and death without another word.

The sun sank and rose as the days sped by, piling up as their food dwindled and their belts tightened. Jan lost count of how long they had been walking, just walking, seemingly in no real direction, but with purpose and knowing beyond him. He and his father had called it madness, he had told him she must have gotten sick from either radiation, or some poison in the food or drink, or even the air. She called it faith, and at this point, Jan wasn’t sure if there was much of a difference.

On their journey they did their best to avoid any place that might have people, that might have food, shelter, or safety. It was to avoid the corruption, his mother said, to keep him pure so not to be rejected by her new found GOD. That meant, when they finally bled dry the supplies they carried, they had to live off the land, where viable resources were few and far between. Anything they did find, his mother inspected thoroughly for any signs of infernal taint – or mutation, rather. Her inquisitive eye left them surviving off sunlight and air most days.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The days turned to weeks, and the weeks months as the sea of endless fields of grass turned to endless waves of sand. Eventually that too broke away, solidifying into mountains that crumbled into the rocky shore of a great lake. The water there was tainted, so they left it behind with parched throats and cracked lips. Ultimately, despite her perceived path of divine direction, they couldn’t avoid entering the remnants of the old world. It stood before them like the ruins of some ancient temple, straight out of myth and legend – a desiccated city, growing up out of bramble and dust. Jan’s mother agonized over going through or around it for the entire night. Time was short, she nagged herself, arguing that time would be shorter if they went around. She prayed, begged her GOD for an answer, sobbing into her cupped hands. Eventually she got one, Jan guessed; that morning she had decided, they were going through.

A couple of hours more and they stood under an immense archway, the city’s grand entrance, that said, “Welcome to Erichthonius, GA – A Land Reclaimed, a Land Rebuilt.” Skeletal frames of rotted gray metal surrounded them, loosely draped with dead vegetation stuck fast to crumbling brick. At one point in time, it must have truly been a sight to see, Jan thought in tightly contained wonder. Long forgotten and abandoned by man, it was still the most impressive feat of engineering he had seen. Dead as it was, they still walked with cautious, well-placed steps through the empty streets. Something terrible had happened there, Jan thought as they crept along. The air felt stale, and there didn’t seem to be a sound at all in the world. Even the color appeared to have been drained from the place. Jan didn’t know if it was just the emptiness making his mind play tricks on him, but everything looked faded and gray, as if it were all carved from stone.

Jan wondered what had happened there, to the buildings, to the people, but ultimately he figured it was the same thing that had happened everywhere else – atrophy, death. Or maybe not, he pondered. Maybe they just left. Maybe they were even on the Tevat right now, living their best lives. Jan almost wanted to believe, to believe in the Tevat, in the Being of Light, in his mother; he just couldn’t. The only belief he held true as they lurched starving through the streets of that hollow city, was that they were going to die there.

Night soon came, painting the already grayscale world into duality of deep black shadows and moon-bleached whites. The pair sought shelter amongst the bones of Erichthonius, a place as dead as the king of myth that it was named for – or so they had thought. A cry woke them up in the night, what sounded like the weeping of a lost child. They were camped on the second story of some towering building that’s purpose had been lost with its denizens. They had made sure to bolt the doors and block those they couldn’t, but the windows were shattered, and the mournful song of night flowed in like family at a funeral. Jan’s mother did what she usually did when things went bump in the night. She sat on her knees, practically curled into herself, praying frantically. As softly as his mother’s desperate words to GOD, Jan crawled from her side and towards the window. He was torn between curiosity and being spiteful, hearing each word behind him to send the demons away. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a demon or a monster, because they simply didn’t exist. It was some animal, or exactly what it sounded like – a child, probably in need of help. Though, even if it was, he doubted his mother would rush to their aide. Either way, he needed to see, felt compelled to see, to prove to himself, once again, his mother’s folly.

With each step closer, the crying beyond grew a bit louder, almost as if with every one of those steps he took, hand and foot, so did it. Jan neared the edge of the window, gently placing his fingers over the ruined frame, and inching to his knees, took a peek. He quickly wished he hadn’t, finding that as he looked out, the weeper looked within. The being before him was alien, wholly and truly. It was as tall as the second story they hid in, and blacker than the night’s sky at it’s back. The weeper was humanoid, but long and thin, nothing but skin on bones, and had a face that was a tiered and narrowing hole, like the descending steps of a quarry. It had no eyes, but it could see him, Jan could feel its sight upon him, looking him up and down inquisitively as he sat frozen in fear, clutching the windowsill so tight the jagged glass dug into the palms of his hands.

Jan’s mother looked up and saw the skeletal horror peering in through at them. She screamed as it raised it’s hand up high and reached in, past Jan, and for her. Her eyes, wide with horror, darted between him and the creature. There wasn’t even deliberation. She turned and ran, screaming her prayers as she fumbled with the door. Jan mustered the courage his mother could not, pulling himself away from the window before crawling into the corner where he watched in horror as she unbolted the door and fled into the hall, leaving him behind. “Just like Father…” he thought sadly, but unsurprised. Everything beyond seeing her castle in the sky was secondary to her – he was second to her. She had only kept him along for so long because he was supposedly pure, her ticket in. Jan touched his face, the cleft that went all the way up to a dead right eye. He always knew she would leave him behind eventually, or get them both killed, but he just wished it didn’t hurt so fucking bad. Jan sat, tears in his eyes, waiting for the deathly giant to reach in and take all he had left – his life – both a fear and a hope. “HEY! Hey, over here!” screamed a voice from below, his mother’s voice. “Over here!”

What was she doing, Jan thought before realizing. She was trying to draw the creature away, a selfless act that took him completely by surprise and flooded his heart with guilt for doubting her. The Weeper turned on great lumbering limbs as it pulled away from the building. As soon as it did, Jan rushed to the window again and peered out, looking for any sign of his mother. There she was, at the end of the street, waving her hands above her head like a wmadwoman, screaming to it at the top of her lungs. It was nearly upon her already, it’s great strides outpacing her no matter how fast she ran. That was the first time Jan had ever prayed to the angel of light his mother had preached of. He prayed with all his might that he, she, whoever they were would come and save them, save his mother.

The Weeper stopped and the awful sound it made stopped with it. It reached out with a slender hand and pulled. Jan’s mother screamed as she was torn off the ground by forces unknown, dragged through the air, through the Weeper, through the hole in its head. Jan stared in disbelief, in utter horror as she didn’t come out the other side. He couldn’t hold his bladder as it turned back to him, beginning it’s mournful song once more – this time in the voice of his mother. The sobbing grew louder and louder with each of its lumbering steps, and as it reached out towards him. But he was frozen, not just in fear, but in renewed hopelessness. Jan wondered not of escape, but whether it would be painful or not. It hadn’t looked like it. She had been there a moment and then was simply gone the next. Jan shut his eyes and waited to join his mother, waited to feel that pull.

It never came. For some reason, the Weeper’s cries had been replaced by the sound of thunder. Jan could see the flashes of light behind the lids of his eyes, even as tightly shut as they were. Some part of him couldn’t help but wonder if his prayers had been answered. He dared to open his eyes. The creature was surrounded by flashing bolts of light, artillery fire that did nothing but stall it, it seemed. Nothing, not bullets or explosives appeared to do any real damage to the towering thing, but to Jan’s surprise, it seemed to flicker with each successful hit. It was an odd thing to witness, he thought, wondering what was the point if they, whoever they were, couldn’t actually kill it. Stalling it, distorting it was all their efforts appeared to do. Was that the intention, to stall it? Stall it for what? The sun, it rose at their backs, slowly and surely, flooding the long roadway in the warming rays of dawn. The creature, as tall as buildings and blacker than night, impervious to all worldly harm, was gone in an instant, as soon as the light had reached it, as if it had never been there at all.

Jan could hear them shouting below, cheering to their victory, and then, a voice called up to him, his mother’s voice. “Jan,” she shouted, “come down! It’s safe now!” He leaned over the edge slow and cautiously, thinking it must have been his imagination. But, surely enough, there she was, surrounded by others, soldiers and their arsenal. She smiled widely, tears in her eyes as she stared up at him. “They came for us, Jan!” She hollered to him. “We were so close, so they came for us!”

All Jan could do was stare back in bewilderment. She had died. That thing… it took her. But, there she was, as she was – alive and well. Jan felt an overwhelming sense of warmth flood into him, washing over him, and with it, the memories of all the times he had been sure that she loved him. She did love him, he realized, more than anything, more than the ship, more than her GOD, more than her own life. In the end she chose him. She loved him. Jan rushed to her, tears pouring from his eyes. He had to let her know, make sure she knew that he loved her too. They embraced, for what felt like the first time since they had started that seemingly never-ending journey. Together they sat there, crying into each other’s shoulders. It was another first, being happy to be together, to be alive.