Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy, Volume One) (18 page)

"The creature remained erect facing the sky. Guinther's body had moved farther down the beast's neck to lodge at the base. At
first, I found a strange consolation in the sight, believing for a fleeting moment that the zapture was choking, having literally bitten off more that it could swallow. My theory appeared validated as I watched its already gaping maw stretch wider. I stood mesmerized, cringing at the thought of seeing Guinther's regurgitated remains splayed before me and in fear of the sheer force being applied toward disfiguring its own head."

"
The jaw will surely snap from its skull
was all I could think. Instead, the jaws extended farther, reaching all the way back to the pointed crest, effectively turning its head inside out. Without warning and at blurring speed, the jaws snapped shut."

"The intensity of this second wave was much stronger, knocking your mother on her ba
ck, myself onto knees. The concussion thwarted all efforts to not vomit or release the contents of my bowels on the spot. Bones, muscle and organs went limp as I kneeled in miasma created by my insides and cupped hands over bleeding ears. It took all the fight I had to remain conscious. When I looked back to the creature, it still held its gruesome pose but a new and unimaginable revulsion hit me as I discovered the primary purpose behind the powerful concussion. Altered by vibrations produced by the ferocious clap of jaws, the once solid outline of Guinther had transformed into a gooey ball of slurry. With a spastic gulp, the bulging neck deflated as the liquid remains disappeared down to its gullet."

"Having devoured its first victim, its appetite far from
slaked, the zapture resumed the minatory posture of a lethal hunter. Its wings, previously tucked tight to the body in a protective shell, now spread wide and low, beating the air in short, compact bursts. The stout legs recoiled and prepared to pounce as its talons tapped the ground, craving fresh meat in which to tear. The sword like arms flared out in anticipation prepared to gouge any moving target, while the dexterous middle one darted from side to side. The long neck cocked over its back, poised to strike with lightning speed. An acrid jet of steam, shot from pin hole nostrils below beady eyes, plastered my face as the creature's gaze fell upon your mother and I."

"Dazed as I was, I summoned the strength to stand. Your mother lay motionless and I thou
ght I detected a slight rise in her chest but was uncertain. In the aftermath, none of the survivors were shocked to learn most of our casualties were the result of the concussive sound waves. I stared at my adversary and relived the choices I made leading up to that very moment. My soul was at peace with the knowledge I lived my life the Certain Way and no matter what happened, l lived this life to the fullest. I was that much closer toward eternal life with the Provider and if this was the last leg in this journey, so be it."

His father stopped climbing steps at that point, letting Steffor travel a few more before tuning his son to face him eye to eye. Steffor had never doubted his father, trusting all he told him. But it was not until that moment, the dar
k memories of that fateful night mirrored in father's depthless eyes, he truly believed him.

"The muffled moans of others penetrated my deaf ears and broke my brief embrace with nirvana. Memories of Guinther's gruesome end came rushing back and I became a
frightened soul living a human experience once again. Determined to face my end with courage, I decided to charge. My legs buckled, forcing me to stop my fall with outstretched arms. Pushing myself back up with what strength remained, a sudden pulse of energy from behind shoved me back down to fall flat on my face."

"To my shameful joy, a new sound of agony and terror filled the night. I looked up in time to witness the zapture slam into the pond's edge, trailed by a black figure flying over me. Bones snapp
ed as its left wing bent back and crumpled to its side from the impact. Maseriah was a black blur as his assiduous assault on the creature came from every angle. Getting back to my feet, I was immediately forced to duck as one of the creatures bladed appendages flew past, spewing a path of blood behind it for another twenty yards before sticking into bark with a hallow plunk."

"Dodging frantic darts of the lethal middle talon toward his head and body, the Guardian snatched the wrist with his right hand whil
e driving the palm of his left into what passed for an elbow, rending the forearm completely off. Choking down a screech, the neck's blurring counterstrike hit ground as the Guardian sidestepped the blow, burying the head deep into moss. Maseriah slammed his boot into the grotesque head before it could recoil, pivoted, and drove fists into and jerked out of the exposed torso in one fluid motion. Violet liquid gushed freely from the mortal punctures as he stepped away. Crammed against the pond edge, legs splayed in unnatural positions, the body twitched a few last times before slumping over in final defeat."

"Confident the beast was dead, heaving fro
m his recent exertion, Maseriah surveyed the battlefield. Never had I revered or feared a soul more at that moment, nor since. The verse from the Deeds, 'Respect and honor the soul chosen to harness the power of a Guardian', held a new and literal meaning."

"Maseriah pulsed with the Source, setting the camp ablaze in an eerie blue light. Conformed like a thick, pliable second skin, his seamless garments covered his entire body in burnished armor. Rounded helm, narrow slits revealing blazing eyes, melded int
o a gorget form fitted around his neck and face. Smooth pauldrons conformed to massive shoulders and amplified his already decuman width. Gauntlets and vambraces, the most intimidating feature, protected both arms and hands, tripling the size of his fists, each knuckle custom fit with gnarled spikes. A tight brigandine encapsulated torso and molded cuisses and greaves shielded the lower body while also providing two more blunt weapons to his arsenal."

"Relief washed over me as I followed his gaze around the
camp. Slaughtered zapture bodies, and respective body parts, mingled about the camp along with our own dead and wounded. Faced against a foreign foe, equipped with no known defense, the remaining zaptures had fled. Maseriah, concluding the same, fell to his knees and wept. Gone was the warrior with deep seeded hate and anger flashing in his eyes, replaced by the sanguine man we all chose to follow. Regaining his composure, he stood and bellowed the Guardians' creed for all to hear: 'Thank you Father! I love you! Please forgive me!'"

Both had been watching Maseriah descend the staircase as his father retold the Guardian's heroic deeds in those final moments. Undetectable even by his heightened hearing, Maseriah explained later how a silent aerial attack caug
ht him off guard. Nose-diving from a mile above, three zaptures pulled up from the pond's west side and skimmed over its glassy surface at top speed. The projectiles flew over our protective lip without the slightest whisper and slammed into Maseriah's backside as the coordinated efforts of their brethren shrieking in the distance distracted his attention. Maseriah had slain thirteen and wounded a dozen before it was it over. Forty-six Citizens perished that night, another thirteen of the wounded the following day.

Turning him back around, his father's face was warm and loving. "Only those willing to risk going too far can discover how far they will go." Steffor gave his father a solemn nod of understanding and continued to contemplate his words as he went u
p the staircase. He heard or recited that passage almost daily but only now seemed to recognize it as the answer to the question his mind could not put to words.

Steffor did not fear the zapture. No, the fear that would cause him to bite his lip for endles
s hours or tie his stomach in knots, was the thought of not being able to protect his loved ones in their time of greatest need. Fear of having the soul of a Guardian trapped in the body of harvest Shifter. A wave of gratitude washed over him as he stopped wrestling with his mind's greatest fear and chose to view life in a new light. Unabated, glorious tears began to flow down his face.

A lo
ud snap rippled through the serene night with an explosive intensity. Heads jerked up in unison toward the foreign noise to witness the night sky disappear, replaced by the freight car barreling directly toward them. Stunned outcries filled the night as the giant cylinder crashed nose first into the stairway ahead of them. Steffor felt the Provider moan as the branch bowed from the impact and send people flying backwards in an entangled mass.

Steffor watched the approaching avalanche of people and reacted w
ith newly bestowed instincts. In one casual motion he turned to his left, leaped over the rail, twisted his body to grab the rounded edge with both hands, used his momentum to swing back over and land on the spot he started. With a quick survey over his shoulder, he knew with a sense beyond his own that, outside of few minor injuries, all were safe, including his father.

With a howling screech of wood grinding on wood, the car, its width just wider th
an the rail, settled into the groove, picked up speed and raced toward them. His vision locked on Maseriah in the distance mistling toward them at supersonic speed. Steffor knew in that instant the Teuton would be too late and, to his horror, that he was all that stood between the ones he cared most for in life and certain obliteration.

The residue of gratitude, showered upon him only moments before, was the catalyst that turned horror into an excited anticipation. The Source moved through him like never before as he raised his arms high and wide. The Provider's
energy pulsed in his palms, rapidly building in mass and power as it stretched his arms farther behind his neck. Fearful he would lose control, Steffor made a weak attempt to throw his arms forward. His panic rose as his arms continued to stretch backwards as if pulled by invisible cables shifted by the strongest vine Shifters. The car was but yards away from where he stood and yet the summoned energy continued to grow.

"Use the power of your mind Steffor!" His father shouted from behind. Like a mighty hamm
er blow, the assured voice dissolved the clutter of frantic thoughts, forever removing the veil that once obscured the Guardian hidden deep within.

Body diverged from mind and hands sliced down with alarming force, clapping a blue ball of Source abruptly f
ormed before his chest. Channeled into a tight beam, the Source shot from the pulsating ball and slammed into the rushing car. A deep pitched, explosive wave ricocheted off cylinder and launched it in the opposite direction. The projectile blurred past Ginllats, remnants of the Source trailing behind like burnt fuel, before piercing Constunkeen's underside.

The car penetrated the bough's thick bark and buried deep into sapwood. The rounded end the only visible trace where it remains exposed to this day for
all who travel the hallowed stairs to see, a monument to the Provider's most heralded Guardian, commemorating the first of many heroic deeds yet to pass.

Chapter 12

Stalling emerged from the meditation chamber exhausted. He looked outside and noticed with alarm the sun slipping behind the tree line.
Sunset already? I guess that makes sense,
he rationalized, doing the math in his head.
It just doesn't leave us much time to get our arms around what must be done next.

He turned to his left and l
ocated Antone waiting for him in the corner lounge. He walked over, his legs buckling several times, and flopped down into the couch adjacent to him. Antone leaned forward, poured a tall glass of chilled water and handed it Stalling. He took the glass without comment and pounded it with one trip to the lips then leaned back and rubbed his temples with the palm of his hands.

"Damn, that hurt," he said.

"Well, you knew going into it the technology was far from honed," Antone replied, tongue-in-cheek. "We have people to test these things you know."

"Desperate times...." Stalling said dryly, in no mood for humor.

In his typical Ecifrican manner, Antone cut to the chase, asking, "So, you found the traitor?"

Stalling brought his hands down and scowled. Antone held
his ground, unapologetic.

"Janison is not, nor will he ever be a traitor. His part in all this is as vital as ever."

His strength returning, Stalling got up and walked over to the kitchenette located behind the couch. He reached into the refrigerator, grabbed a protein drink and started to shake it. He stood silently for several minutes, absently shaking, watching the sun disappear behind the mighty firs.

"The impact of Janison's actions is far from clear or over," he added, saying more to himself than Ant
one.

With that, he twisted the cap, consumed the drink in three gulps, chucked the plastic bottle in the small bin and sat back down on the couch. Recharged, Stalling faced Antone with renewed purpose.

"Janison will arrive by magnarail in two hours."

"Two hours," Antone said, pondering the implications behind the travel time. "He didn't even bother to leave the province? What the hell, did he even want to hide? Don't tell me, let me guess, he was holed up in some cabin, somewhere on the outskirts of H
ashler National Forest maybe. How predictable."

"Where he chose to spend his solitude doesn't matter," Stalling replied, disturbed by Antone's accurate intuition and blatant contempt toward Janison. "What matters is that he has chosen to come back and help
us solve the crisis at hand."

"What matters, meaning no disrespect, is that Janison chose to download every file related to any proprietary technology or system this company has produced over the past twenty years and hand delivered them to the people who
not only have the desire to destroy us, but possess the power to do so. And you want me to welcome him back with open arms?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I am telling you," Stalling stated.
I should have consulted with Antone beforehand. His insight has never failed me, but there just wasn't time this go around.

Antone's response to the situation was consistent wit
h his character, traits Stalling had come to rely on over the years. Yes, Antone's free license to be candid could have a biting edge at times. Yes, his headstrong, Ecifrican view of justice could hamper one's ability to "forgive and forget". Yes, when Stalling's back was against the wall, there is no one else he wanted more to be by his side.

"Understood," Antone responded, turning his dejected face to a spot on top of his polished boot resting across his knee. He and Janison will have the opportunity to s
ettle their issues in due time but first things first, Stalling concluded as he truly studied his friend for the first time since meeting with Janison.
Something else bothers him. What has happened in my absence?

"Any other updates?"

"Yes, as matter of fact, there is," Antone said solemnly, placing a link visor in the middle of the table. He hit a button on the side, prompting the holographic projector, and leaned back into the couch with a determined grimace. Stalling viewed the life-sized, three dimensional video projected above the table of Bishop Clortison delivering his insinuating sermon with mild anger.
Are they aware of our true motives? Just how much did Janison tell them?

"I did not foresee their use of scripture like that to compound the situation
. Very clever," Stalling admitted.

"It gets worse," Antone said, timing his nod at the projection as it segued to the recording of him and Thortizan's conversation.

Stalling watched the exchange between Antone and Thortizan in silence. He waited several more minutes once finished before saying: "It appears we have lost our grip on the tiger's tail."

"Aye," Antone said, nodding in agreement.

"Let's boil the situation down to its essence," Stalling said, leaning forward. "To date, their government sanctioned strategy to obtain complete control of the company has been thwarted due to the very real need for our compliance. Without it, control of the company's assets means little to them if they cannot maintain the Auranet and entrainment platform."

"I have never
put it past them to destroy it all together over letting us continue to leverage both for our own objectives," Antone added.

"True, but that predictable, desperate move is a non-issue, assuming we complete our final step. The root of it all boils down to
this question: How does the latest development change anything? Assuming we are successful in salvaging the project in the coming hours and fulfill its ultimate mission, can any of the information they obtained from Janison be used to stop us between now and then?"

"The analytical side of me says no. But, my gut tells me Thortizan has a plan, the wheels of which are already in motion."

Stalling had read Antone's detailed reports on Thortizan. The more Antone knocked heads with Thortizan and his department over the years, the more he became the symbolic face of their adversary. Publicly, his cabinet was responsible for pushing forward any agenda the Church believed was in the divine interest of society, some made public but most not.

But in all reality, Thort
izan was nothing more than a dealer in pain. His job: keep the people of Antium addicted to the illusion of drama. Thortizan, and all his predecessors, perpetuated this paralysis on society over the centuries by promoting and, when necessary, enforcing the Church of Salvation's fixed, "faith" based worldview. His tool was fear of evil that came in many forms: economic instability, Ecifrican uprising, the spread of lethal disease and virus, natural and some not so natural disasters, or imprisonment at Blacadoma Caverns. The means did not matter as long as man remained in competition with his neighbor, "us vs. them", the eternal salvation of the one and only true God the lynchpin sustaining their static institution indefinitely.

Stalling correctly concluded lo
ng ago, negating Drakarle's triopoly of the media, the primary vehicle used to instill and control their orchestrated web of deception for the past two centuries, was the key to creating true reform.

"It was their hubris that enabled us, right underneath t
heir noses, to construct the very weapon that will lead to their ultimate demise," Stalling reminded Antone. "Despite their recent insight, I believe that handicap of arrogance will continue to prevent them from ever stopping us. It's too late; their day has come and gone."

Antone nodded in agreement but the brooding look on his face and stiff posture said otherwise. With one act of betrayal, Antone's entire body of work has been undermined, Stalling thought, just now realizing the full implications behind
Janison's actions.
Not all is lost, but for Antone to prevail, he will have to raise his game to a new level. All of us will.

"I believe this to be true, because I know Antone Lartisent will not tolerate any other outcome," Stalling added with a genuine sm
ile. The statement professing his confidence in his friend had the effect he had hoped for, penetrating, if only for a moment, Antone's fortified emotional guard, as his friend looked up and returned his own confident smile.

*****

Stalling absently noted the car decelerate moments before coming to a gentle stop. Originally, fearful of people perceiving him as a hypocrite, he had balked at the idea of constructing a private rail between his office and home. Had he not made it abundantly clear, repeatedly, the mission of Alterian Enterprises was to provide equal privileges and quality of life for every person on Antium. How could he flaunt such luxury when so many could not even begin to imagine such privilege?

But it was hard to argue with Antone's reason
ing. Propwing, while taking only a few minutes longer, was a security risk just not worth taking anymore. He was relentless in his defense of the expense, stating: "Too many of the Church's adversaries have died in
accidents
. The statistics are appalling."

In the end, Stalling deferred to Antone the first of many major decisions he would place in the man's hands, recognizing his instinct as more than just being paranoid. Not to mention, the statistics of lethal accidents for those who had openly, or discree
tly, opposed any facet of the C.O.S. rule for the past century truly was staggering. And for that reason, there were very few, and for those that did, none had gone to the extent of Stalling. No, it did not require any stretch of the imagination for Stalling at the time, nor now, to see how his accidental death would be an ideal solution for the C.O.S.

The private magnarail cost millions to construct, a paltry sum for one of Drakarle's wealthier houses. The prospect of getting more out each day appeased the
philanthropist in Stalling and helped him align the expense with his ultimate objective. He reminded himself daily that the day will soon follow where everyone can experience the same privilege if so chosen, once the mission is complete.

But it was not until he and Lorissa hit a major rough patch eight years ago that he discovered the true value in his ability to arrive at his home in sixty seconds. Stalling shivered at the memory, recalling how close he had come to pushing away the most
important person in his life.
Without Lorissa, none of my vision would be realized.

A soft hiss filled the air-compressed cabin accompanied by the assured hum of hydraulics as the double doors parted. St
alling stepped onto a granite platform no wider than the car, briskly walked down the short connecting hallway to a door at its end and entered his home.

His home was built upon and into a two hundred foot high granite cliff facing the Baltif Ocean. Comprised of three levels, excavated entirely from the cliff
itself, the magnarail entrance was located on the far east corner of the second level. With fifteen-foot high ceilings, the vast open space tiered off into three living spaces that ascended east to west, marked by two masculine titanium columns dividing the glass paneled north wall.

Stalling walked over to the large hearth carved into the east wall and turned his back to the fire. As his backside warmed, he looked about the comfortable lower room and allowed the creature comforts to seep in and ease his mi
nd. The light from the fire made the comfortable room even more inviting, a dimmed chandelier centered in the gourmet kitchen located in the far side of the upper west room and some strategically placed recessed lighting along the floors, the only other source of light.

Denoted as "his room", Stalling had done little in the way of decorating the comfortable den. Lorissa knew what he liked better than he did himself. Sure, the mantle housed a few keepsakes he had collected from his travels over the years. Th
e brass sculpture of two intertwined dragons, resting on the rustic coffee table centered in the room, was his favorite contribution; the debate if in battle to the death or the throws of deep passion, a topic of conversation with guests that never ceased to get old. The rest was all Lorissa: the elegant, hand crafted rugs, furniture, tables and antique lamps, a pleasing blend of brass, rich hardwood and supple leather accented by an array of burgundy, black and beige.

One of the many talents my gratitude g
rows for with every passing day
, Stalling thought with a smile. He fought the compulsion in that moment to head upstairs to find her. Granted, his time was limited. He had an hour, tops, before he had to get back and prepare. With all that had happened today, and all that had yet to occur, Stalling’s need for Lorissa had never been stronger. Still, he delayed for a few more minutes.

Honesty was the one component key to the success of his relationship with Lorissa. Honesty with each other was never hard. In
fact, the indisputable trust in the other, experienced in their very first encounter, was the foundation they had built a beautiful and meaningful relationship upon for the past twenty-one years. Honesty with himself, that was the substance determining the growth of their relationship. There was no hiding his true, innermost feelings from Lorissa and vice versa. It was when he stopped arguing with her innate ability to read his heart and instead embrace it, that their relationship truly began to evolve.