Falling Sky (8 page)

At the end of the tunnel sat a second set of doors. Prophet produced his small computer and attached a wire to its side. The device didn't open up like a laptop and looked larger and bulkier than the standard tablet. He attached the other end of the wire into a small port at the corner of a control panel and keyed something on the computer's screen.

“I can't get a reading on what's on the other side. All I can see is that the lights are powered down.” Prophet read the screen with a furrowed brow.

“Perhaps that means it's unguarded,” Wasley replied.

Katsuni pulled the scarf over her face again and all her muscles tightened at once. “We still need to be ready.”

The other three straightened up as well. Prophet disconnected the computer and replaced it in his back pack. Wasley used the key card again, and keyed in the opening sequence. The door clicked, more softly than the previous door, and slid open slowly to reveal a wall of shadows.

“Is there any way to get the lights on?” Wasley asked.

Prophet shook his head, opened his back pack and pulled out a large flashlight. He brought out three more and handed them to the others. The small beams of light pierced through the darkness and settled on various machines. Even though the area lay under the scrutiny of complete darkness, Ian figured the entire layout to be huge. The illumination from the flashlights became swallowed by shadows after a certain point.

They moved forward, however Ian stopped when something shuffled in the darkness; a small trace of movement from beyond the door. The others didn't seem to notice it and advanced.
This is not the time to be imaginative
, he told himself.

Wasley looked back and noticed that Ian purposely lingered a few steps behind the group. “Come on, Ian, you have to keep up,” he said and turned toward the darkness.

Ian still chose to linger for a couple seconds before following the group, and after they all passed through the door, the area suddenly flooded with light and the doors behind them slammed closed. They entered the area in between two square buildings. Other identical structures lined the entire clearing and a huge metal square rose in the center. It all sat under a black, glass-like dome. Immediately after the metal slam echoed throughout the area and inside his head, Ian darted to the side and behind one of the buildings. Several guards appeared from the other side of it. Four of them tackled Prophet and Wasley to the ground. Katsuni managed to drop three with a quick series of kicks before several more overpowered her, and struck her in the back of the head with their metal staffs. A blue spark flashed from each weapon when it made contact with her skull, and caused her body to spasm before collapsing to ground with a subdued thud.

Ian ran and circled behind the building, peeking around its corner to view the scene. The door slid open and Ellis stepped out. He stopped a couple of feet in front of Prophet and Wasley, who struggled under the grasp of the muscular guards. “I knew you'd be here,” he announced in a full, echoing voice.

“Ian!” Wasley screamed with a labored voice, “Do it!”

Ian reached into his pocket and pulled out the small, square device. The explosive charge is designed to send an electronic pulse through the generator, overload the circuits and cause a small explosion. The device was also calibrated to send a signal to similar charges set in the ventilation systems in the other cities. The one Ian held would be only the first domino to fall.

“Wait,” Ellis said calmly and scanned the area. Ian flattened himself against the wall. “Do that and there is no guarantee that you'll get your mother back. You know we're holding her and a mass evacuation doesn't mean that everyone gets out.”

“Don't listen to him, Ian. He's not in charge of the evacuation. The process provides that everyone gets out, prisoners included,” Wasley countered loudly.

“Do you really trust this misguided idealist? Who is he to say what's right for everyone? Turn yourself over and I promise that your mother will be safe at your side.”

“In a prison!” Wasley screamed before the sound of an electronic spark. Silence followed.

Ian turned the charge over in his hands and studied the almost featureless, shining object. A single blue button stuck out from its center. Powerful magnets were set at each of its back corners. The gears in his mind turned frantically as he considered the argument. His mother's face appeared in the smooth surface of the charge. The lines of sadness that ran through her face softened considerably as she smiled; not the tight, forced smile that he'd become accustomed to, but the same smile she showed him when they sat at the kitchen table and talked about his disorder.

It's going to be okay. You're fine.

He heard Ellis's steps as they got closer to his hiding place. Quickly, he put the charge back in his pocket and stripped off his sweater. The beanie fell to the dirt in the process. He balled the sweater up in his shaking hands and took a deep breath.

“Think about it, Ian. There's no real way to tell if we would be able to thrive on the surface again.” Ellis stopped at the corner of the building and the tips of his black dress shoes appeared at the corner of Ian's vision.

Ian took a deep breath and leaped from his hiding place. Ellis looked down and a grin began to spread across his skeletal features. Before the tall, thin man completed the expression, Ian threw the sweater in the man's face and lunged at him. The temporary blindness allowed Ian to bring Ellis to the ground. They struggled briefly before Ian managed to plant an elbow in the man's nose and jump to his feet.

The altercation distracted the guards for a moment and Prophet turned over onto his back and wrestled the black staff from his guard's hands. The other guards converged on him.

Ian pulled the charge from his pocket and made a dead run toward the main power generator. His feet beat against the dry dirt and sent clouds of dust into the air. With each burning breath, it felt like acid pumped into his veins. He tasted copper in his dry mouth. Ellis screamed, half in anger, half in pain, and recovered from the blow. The guards still struggled with Prophet as he swung the stun baton wildly around him.

As Ian neared the final few feet before the generator, he took bigger, leaping steps to clear the gap faster. With his arms outstretched, he pressed the charge against the generator's cold metal surface. It latched on and began to emit a high pitched beep that sliced through the noise of Ellis's pleas and the guards' commands for Prophet to stand down. He turned back to see that Ellis raced toward him with bared teeth and deep, wild eyes. The living skeleton's frantic pace and movements betrayed his previously calm demeanor. Ian turned back and slammed his hand on the blue button.

A blinding flash preceded an ear splitting boom. Ian felt himself lifted from the ground. He collided against Ellis with a crunch that could have been the sound of breaking bones. They landed several feet from the generator before darkness washed over Ian's vision and silenced the surrounding voices.

Ian's eyes snapped open. He had to blink hard several times for his vision to clear up completely. A fierce wind tore through his clothes and bit into his flesh as he sat up in a large field of wild grass, made up of varying greens, and rolling hills. The sun shone at the edge of his vision, causing him to narrow his eyes, and the grass swayed in all directions. Clouds washed across a bright blue sky. In the distance, Ian spotted the figure of a man crouching in the grass. He wore a black beanie and heavy clothes over his thin frame. The man looked toward Ian, but the distance didn't allow him make out any detail on the man's pale face.

“The explosion was bigger than I thought it would be,” said a voice behind Ian.

Ian looked back to see Wasley standing in the knee high grass. He moved toward Ian and sat next to him. “Is this real?” the boy asked.

“It is,” the professor answered.

“How long have I been here?” Ian looked back and the figure had disappeared. He looked around and felt a wave of relief wash over him. The wind chilled his face to the point of numbness. A deep breath filled his lungs with crisp air, and a smile spread across his face. His body relaxed, for what felt like the very first time.

“It's been about half a day. Almost everyone has been evacuated from the city.” Wasley clasped a hand on Ian's shoulder and squeezed. “You did it. Whenever you're ready, we can look for your mother and father among the people. We're camped down the hill away from the crowds, just in case someone wants to point out the terrorists who destroyed the ventilation system.”

“Okay,” Ian agreed and continued to stare out into the distance. “I'll be ready in a bit, I just want to . . .” he trailed off, biting his lower lip, and then opened his mouth again, “…look.”

Wasley smiled and started to walk back down the hill.

“Mr. Wasley,” Ian called him back.

He stopped mid stride and turned back. “Yeah?”

“Who was Phineas?”

“No one really knows. We don't know if he even existed, and if he did, how did he survive for so long and how can he talk to us in our dreams?”

“I see.”

“Some say he was an android or robot or something that predicted the end of the war mathematically. But I think those are just legends. Either way, it's good to be here in the real world.”

“Yes,” Ian agreed, “it really is.”

* * * *

Several hours later the city had been officially evacuated, with some expected casualties. Several trucks transported emergency supplies like food and tents. Additional construction trucks poured from the city hours before the ventilation system completely shut down. The city doors were closed and sealed and workers began to erect temporary structures.

Calls were made as city leaders discussed how the world would move on from here. Some people fainted at the sight of such open space and bright, natural colors. Others huddled together with their loved ones, not used to being able to venture so far. Children chased each other over the fields and played simple games with made up rules; they thrived in open land. Some of the adults offered to help the construction workers.

Wasley, Prophet and Katsuni stood by as Ian embraced his mother and father. Ian's dad and Wasley shook hands and the group walked up the hill to talk about what had happened moments before the evacuation alarms blared throughout the streets and what would happen in the months and years to come.

The wind became alive with voices, tears and laughter. A myriad of conversations went on all at once, but suddenly ceased when the ground began to shake.

The Ventilation dome suddenly cracked and the entire area where Michael Wasley spent a lot of his young adult life collapsed into the ground. Deeper still, the streets ran together and split into massive fissures. The sky fell and crushed the houses, and the few vehicles, below. Inside Ian's home, the dining room table was reduced to rubble along with the rest of the kitchen and living room. The trees were uprooted by the sheer force of the shaking Earth. The city condensed as it collapsed upon itself. The stage at the Sub Terr Cafe opened and swallowed the microphone, stand and all. Abandoned books fell from upturning tables and the cash register fell through the floor. “Before The Great Collapse by Anonymous,” became crushed by a support beam.

People ran from the forming crater. The crowd managed to retreat to a safe distance before they turned to watch as the hole widened, erupting in a cloud of dust and debris.

Ian sat in the grass with his legs stretched out and smiled.
We're fine,
he thought.