Mindset of Oblivion

[Jericho Veronus]

I look back, though my vision of what I'm leaving behind is soon blurred as tears begin to swell in my eyes. The tears themselves are not tears of sadness, regret, pain, or even tears of joy; they are simply a result of actions in which I was a part. The heat and ash that fill the barely breathable air clog the pores, sting the nostrils, and cause the eyes to tear up. I take the breathing mask away from my face, but only for a second as I quickly receive a reason why it is better to be breathing the recycled air of tanks older than my ancestors than the natural air surrounding us. The smell of boiling blood and burning flesh from the still burning pyres miles in the distance. It's enough to make you puke with the first inhale.

I need to shake myself off as I turn away. The momentary stop for one last look at the now barren wasteland was enough for a thin layer of ash to settle on me. Everything that was once there, everyone who once called it home, gone.

"Daddy!"

"A'isha."

No, it couldn't be, it's all in my head. There was no one there, the looks of the others when I had called out to her told me that. I shake my head to clear it, but I know full well from time and time again that it doesn't do anything. The voices have returned before, they'll return again; like shadows disappearing in the darkness only to always return when the light hits. I wonder if the others hear them, or am I the only one?

A siren blares, two long notes, a single rising by a slight changed falling, cutting through my thoughts and rattling my ear drums; and had I lived my own life, it most likely would have unnerved my will. It sounded fairly similar to an air raid siren and the only thing that seemed to still work in this world. I would be willing to bet my life that it was only because no one could find it. The siren existed here before we did, remnants of those that lived before us, but the only evidence of it was the sound. No one ever managed to find where the sound actually originated from, but it could be heard just as well in the mines as on a mountain top. No matter how far you went in any direction, as the sun was setting each day, the siren would sound and you would hear it.

And thus I see the end of yet another day, both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in having survived what lies behind us, a curse in having to face what lies ahead.

[Jericho Veronus]

The darkness surrounds me, swallowing me whole. Only minutes after the sun has set and everywhere is black. I barely remember the nights in the before time. Nights when I could step out hours after the sun had long since set and look up at the star-lit night sky. But those nights are gone now, replaced by those that you only step outside in when seeking a fate worse than death.

Around me I hear the sound of breathers as the others sleep. Further outside, beyond the cave entrance I hear the sounds of horror, the sound of wings flapping, the sound of claws scratching against the rock of the mountain side, and somewhere beyond even that into the night I hear the sound of a scream of terror; a scream for help, for someone, anyone to save them, as they live the last remaining moments of their life. At this point, it’s unlikely that there is even anyone else out there to make the sound. The creatures learn to mimic sounds. They use them in order to attract the unfocused, curious, or naïve, though they have yet to learn that cries for help will no longer be answered. This is no longer an age of heroes, of bravery. It’s a sure lost cause to even assume such. Bravery dies with the light each day. Any bit left is used up during the day, to force oneself to summon the courage of getting up the next day and moving forward.

Too often have I seen others refuse to rise with the morning sun or fall mid day and simply lie there to die. They give up the fight of survival, they give up the will to live, not even begging for others to drag or carry them, not asking for means to defend themselves or sustain in that spot. They simply conclude that they no longer wish to carry on, suffering and struggling against an ultimately inevitable fate. And it’s an even further waste to argue with them. Their minds are made up, and you simply waste the energy you need for your own survival.

Even so, what points are there to even argue. The ease of finally ending the physical pain and the emotional and mental torture, or keep it going, in hopes that one day there may be a miracle, that somewhere out there, beyond the boundaries of reality stands a saving grace, a world untouched by the foul corruption of this one and even so, in the event that such a place does present itself, it would be only a matter of time before that world too is reached by the evil created here.

My wandering thoughts are silenced as a new sound is produced from the direction of the cave’s entrance. A sound that is quite distinguishable to any who have even glanced upon this life. Starring into the darkness, I heard the sound again, the sound of a claw scraping against the rock.

[Jericho Veronus]

I stood their silent for the next several seconds, hoping that if I didn’t move it would simply go away. However, that thought sank to the pit of my stomach as I felt a blast of hot air hit my face. I was only inches from it, though it had yet to know I was there, it hadn’t called out. It began sniffing, the sound slowly strafing away from me. I closed my eyes, thinking, there’s still a chance, but my body operated independent of that thought and removed my blade from its sheath.

“No, it’s going after the others. They’re making too much noise, we can escape while it feasts.”

“Shut up!”

I could hear the creature turn back in my direction, though only for a second, the sound of their breathers while the others slept drew its attention. I brought the blade up to the approximate height of the creature’s gut. It was fairly easy to kill one in a fight, they didn’t have as much muscle mass on their bodies as a human would of equal size. Their wiry compositions were the only way they were able to fly with such ease, but that’s not to say they didn’t possess power and force, especially since there never was just one. The second a creature recognized either a source of danger or a source of dinner it would alert countless more, and they would be there in no time at all. The only hope of actually killing one and surviving is to some how kill it before it has time to screech, before it senses you there, before it even registers within its little brain that cold metal is penetrating its skin, and that, like everything else in life, is even easier said than done.

“What are you doing Dekar?”

What WAS I doing? The creature still hadn’t identified our presence; I could be just committing suicide, only to die before more came to rip apart the others. Besides I’ve always felt that even traveling with all the others that I was still alone. I didn’t choose this group, it was created through necessity and fate. Everyone that I relied on before, everyone that I socialized with, everyone that I love, gone. And now I am left with the others that I happened upon by chance. Having been given the choice, I would not travel with them. Why should I even help them? I could be free of them.

“Because, when a world is void of pleasures, of joys, of bouts of happiness however small, when these things no longer exist; ones life only amounts to what it can be sacrificed for.”

The creature began to deeply inhale; I had to act quickly as I knew all too well what was to happen next.

“NO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I’m making my life worth it.”

In one swift motion I pushed my blade into the belly of the beast, putting my entire body behind the force as I drove both the creature and myself towards the mouth of the cave and to the cliff’s edge beyond. As I did, the creature bellowed a high pitched screech. Even before this, I knew I was already dead, but perhaps there was a chance, the others didn’t have to face the same immediate fate.

[Jericho Veronus]

"You are a fool, Dekar!"

The cave's entrance, only a few feet more. I began catching glimpses of light, from beyond the opening, though they were quickly concealed again by the amounting masses of flying bodies. They were being drawn to the cave too quickly. I continued pushing the creature out into the night. If I was to ensure my plan be not in vain I had to summon every last ounce of courage that I could for my next action. Nearer to the cliff’s edge, and the ground was no more.

Wind rushed past me at a seemingly increasing rate, though I had no idea for how long. I had to be in the moment, act as if every second mattered, for it did. I retrieved my blade from the beast only to stab it again, ensuring another screech as I was descending, and the creatures following in suite. Several wings brushed past and claws began to rip at me as the creatures following caught up.

"You saved them, Dekar."

The first attacker to draw blood dug its claws into my side, just barely above my kidney, and attempted to pull me off the course that gravity had destined me to travel. Its grip just wasn’t solid enough and it instead ripped away a chunk of flesh. I felt a warm spot develop on my stomach as blood began to soak into the fabric of my shirt. Though the next thing I felt came almost immediately after as one set of claws dug into my shoulder while another wrapped around my ankle, both pulling in opposite directions. The creature at my shoulder lost though, as it had loosened to obtain a better grip, only instead it managed merely to grab my pack, tearing it open at the seams, and causing me to lose the contents. In my current situation, the thought would not have spent so much time within my mind, except that the contents included my breather tank.

The breather tank, even when cushioned, completely still of motion and powered down still remains, at best, in a volatile state. The chemical composition which makes up the recycling unit is fairly similar to that used within the make-up of a chemo-nuclear bomb. So when an active tank, void of its output hose which remained strapped to my waist, and operating at full power goes flying at a rock wall, the explosion that follows is, with no exaggeration, a guarantee.

BOOM!

"They would be proud."

Several creature's had torn off pursuit to chase after the movement of the tank itself, only to be the first to be engulfed by the bright blue blast that for the first time in ages, gave light back to a night sky. Many of the creatures became distorted, the rest having simply become destroyed as the fell from the air, as much as a sinking stone as myself. Merely seconds after the tank blew, I felt an impact, not of the explosion, but of several branches and limbs of dying trees, followed by soft ground. I lay there still conscious. The trees and resistance from the creatures actually trying to prevent me from falling so that they could have their way, was just enough to prevent the sudden stop after the fall from killing me.

As I look up, the darkness reclaims the night and I am left only with my sense of hearing to guide me with what was happening. The creatures seemed to have regained their senses as well, I could hear the diving. However, a new sound had been introduced, the crumble of rocks. The explosion had started a rock slide, and I could only pray that the rocks reached me before the creatures.

At least then my death might be merciful.

"Daddy?"

"I'm coming."

[Jericho Veronus]

Light, it’s everywhere, blinding. Where am I? So bright, even back before the dark flash it was never this bright. What is this place? Squinting and shielding my eyes does little to help as there doesn’t seem to been a single point of origin for this illumination, it’s simply everywhere.

“Mommy, it’s daddy!”

“A’isha?”

“Yes baby, it’s daddy alright”

“V…Vi…Violet?”

For years I heard A'isha's voice, thoug never so solid, before it was always only in my head, a faint whisper in the wind, and never my wife's voice. As hard as I tried, even trying to recall words she had spoken to me before, like I possessed no real memories of her. And then I saw them, in the distance. They’re shapes were faded at first but then they came into view again; they were not alone. Something approached them from behind; it was one of the creatures.

“Look out, get down!”

They continue walking towards me, acting as though they can’t hear me, while I could hear theirs as though they were right in front of me. I try to run towards them, but my legs feel like lead and I am resorting simply to dragging them across the ground, now a lush green grassy field. I fall face down and when I look up they’re gone.

“NOOO! Violet! A’isha!”

I push myself to my feet once again, the white light gone, but still I find myself in the open field, a blue sky above. I rush, my legs now feeling lighter than air and in no time at all I reach the last place I saw them. I fall to my knees, sobbing. The two people I’ve loved most in the world, that I’ve just seen for the first time in God knows how many years; and I’ve lost them again. They’re gone.

Rubbing the water from my eyes, I open them to a new sight. The same green field, the same blue sky, except now the empty space where they stood contains their lifeless massacred bodies. Gashes and open wounds litter their arms and legs, while burns cover the skin not cut into. Their shredded clothes blood stained and charred.

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you kill them?”

“WHAT?!?”

“I mean sure they deserved it, but did you have to enjoy it so much?”

“Show yourself!”

Jumping to my feet, I whirled around, searching the endless spans of the field that appeared to go out in all directions. The voice, one I was quite familiar with, like most things in this unknown place, had no disputable source. I could see no one other than myself and the lifeless bodies of my wife and daughter.

“WHERE ARE YOU?”

“Right here.”

[Jericho Veronus]

For the first time I was able to discern to location of the sound’s source. Turning quickly, I spun around to find myself starring down the voice’s owner. The figure, while although dark as though covered in shadows from a non existent cause, contained sharp features that were too recognizable. The same torn and rough cloak, the same mud-caked boots, the same stance of a straight erect posture, leaning slightly toward one side; it was myself. I stood there starring at the dark gray scale version of myself starring right back, though for reasons unknown it took me much too long to realize that the face in front of me was not the same. The face I looked upon wore a hideously wicked grin spreading so far that its edges seemed to nearly cut themselves away from the face. As angry as I should have been at the moment, I felt nothing, no emotion. Completely aware of what I should have been feeling, wanting to experience the hatred and anger towards this mocking creature, I was simply incapable of being such.

“What’s wrong Dekar? Don’t you like the way I look? After all I am just a part of you.”

The figure tilted its head to the side as it began to walk around me. I followed it around, turning my entire body, but not making any attempt to move towards it or away, only keeping the pre-established distance between us.

“You are no part of me. You are a monster. Something with no heart, with no soul!”

“You’re right.”

He stopped walking and looked up. I took a quick glance upward as well in order to possibly catch a glimpse at what his attention had been drawn to, yet nothing was there.

“I am a monster. I’m the monster within you, your fear, your hatred, your pain.”

He flashed and was gone from in front of me, though I immediately felt his hands come down on my shoulders from behind me. He whispered into my ear.

“I’m the part of you capable of this.”

He pointed one of his shadowy hands straight ahead. In the distance, suddenly the field began to disappear; not into nothingness, but into the dark charred remains of a once living world as for the second time I witnessed the dark flash, consuming everything, blowing straight past me. And then there was nothing.

Darkness engulfed me, my very existence. I felt something suffocating, not my lungs, but I felt something that could only be described as suffocating my soul. And each moment that passed after, seemed like a lifetime. Entire spans of nothing.

[Jericho Veronus]

There was nothing beneath my feet. I was floating or so I could only assume. The black abyss that overwhelmed me, imprisoning me, prevented me from seeing my hand if I placed it not inches from my face. Then I landed, though it was difficult to say if landed was exactly the right way, as I simply found myself laying upon dust and dead grass, I propped myself up, feeling the brittle, charred grass blades crunch and snap beneath the weight of my hand. Above me a blackened sky, clouded by dense smoke, and ahead of me and all around for that matter were mountainous remains of great pyres, some still containing flames lit amongst the bodies.

“Rise, Dekar!”

A light, unlike that of the flames, appeared within one of the pyres and grew larger as it got nearer. The light emitting was a whitish blue, and it seemed to be the cause of the voice. I rose to my feet; and as the light advanced I recognized the outline of a woman within it.

“This is not your fault. You must know that.”

Closer and the woman’s shape developed clear features as I began to recognize this as well.

“Violet?”

“No, I am part of you. But I appear as you would see me.”

She spread her hands out, the light seeming to almost move around her like dancing flames. I couldn’t be helped but be drawn towards her, I reached out my hand towards her. It didn’t matter if she denied it; to me she was Violet.

“You have to go now Dekar.”

“What do you mean? I don't understand this. I don't understand any of this.”

“It’s time to wake up now.”

And again, my surroundings began to fade just as quickly as they had appeared, throwing me into the eternal darkness once more. She was the last thing to disappear, yet even after her physical self was gone, her voice remained.

“Time to wake up.”

“VIOLET!!!”

“Whoa, easy there kid.”

A scruffy voice, one of experience and age. I was no longer in the darkness or laying on a field, burnt or otherwise, though I could feel I was on my back. Starring up I saw the rock ceiling of a cave, illuminated by the dancing flames of a fire somewhere not far from my position. I tried to turn my head in order to both locate who had spoken to me and to attempt to realize evidence of my whereabouts, but I could not. I couldn't move anything, simply stare.

"Where am I?"

"Don't worry, I'll answer any questions you might have, but right now you need some rest."

"I've slept enough, what's going on?!?"

"Fine, you may not want rest but I do. I'll answer your questions in the morning."

"What is this place? Answer me!"

Though there was no answer. Multiple times, I yelled and called out and attempted to force myself to move, yet nothing provided any type of results. Eventually I silenced myself, resolving that continuing on would only wear me out further and benefit me in no way. So I continued staring at the rock above me, waiting for morning.

[Jericho Veronus]

And wait I did. Even long after the fire died away, I continued looking up at darkness until the dull light of dawn snuck in from an opening somewhere behind my head. I can’t say even now if I was afraid or simply too wired, but I laid there, awake, starring up at the rock ceiling above me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had had the opportunity to simply think. I was by all intensive means physically useless at the time, so I had no chance of reacting to any external factors. A creature could have come in, ripped off my leg and proceed to devour it, directly above me, and I could do nothing but watch. So what use was worrying, it was out of my hands and there was literally nothing I could do.

And due to this otherwise normal burden, it allowed me the chance to actually contemplate the world I had been through prior to waking to my current position. For morale sake, I’d learned that dwelling on such is not necessarily the best of choices, but not doing so would test the sake of my sanity. In this place, sanity is even rarer than bravery.

Those voices, the countless times I’d even heard them before…before I fell. It was at this point that I realized, I didn’t even know if I was alive and had been dreaming or dead and remembering. How can you tell what’s a dream and what’s real if you can’t even tell when you’re awake and when you’re asleep? I tried to play it over in my mind, capturing any detail I could, but every time something seemed a little bit different and each time I seemed to lose something, a little bit would slip away.

“How’d you sleep?”

I was playing it again, this time approximately only half the length of the time I first played it, when my most gracious host spoke up.

“I didn’t. I told you I wasn’t tired.”

“Well, you will be sooner or later. You’re unfortunately gonna be there for a while.”

“Why, what’d you do to me? Why can’t I move?”

I could hear rustling off to my right, followed by the scraping of what sounded like a light weight wood being dragged across the floor. He seemed to be pulling up a chair, just outside of my eye line.

“About three days ago I found a pile of rocks with a hand sticking out of it. Turned out that hand was attached to you. The longest part of the process was excavating your body carefully enough to make sure nothing else broke, in the event that there was anything else to break, or that you were even alive for that matter.”

“Who are you? Why’d you even bother?”

“It wouldn’t be so simple for me to just walk by like most would. I’ve got my own demons, as we all do, and leaving you there would only make them stronger. I'll leave the formal introductions for a time where you're a little better physical health, but for now you can call me Doc.”

[Jericho Veronus]

The day came and went, while I remained paralyzed from truly unknown reasons and I did little more than sleep or stare. The day, which had so quickly turned to night, just as quickly turned to a new day, and the process repeated. Each passing day turned to days turned to weeks, and often I would ask questions to Doc, but I might as well have just been talking to myself. The answers I usually got back were either ones I had already been given or simply messes of cryptic metaphors. One thought that crept through my conscious regularly was whether the man, whose hands my life was in, was actually sane.

One day the pressure from such an idea caused me to finally push the conversation to more personal measures than our company was yet used to. Until then, my inquiries that actually received replies were only those focused on my current situation. I decided that one way or another I would get an answer. I, of course, started them off with the normal probing questions that I had asked time and time again to no avail; questions like, ‘where are you from?’ or ‘who are you exactly?’; then moving on to others about his locating me in the first place or to the possibility of me actually still being alive. It seemed like he wasn’t interested making friends, as though he was there out of obligation and not necessarily choice of free will; on the other hand however, it may have simply been that he was waiting, waiting for the right question to be asked.

“What are your demons?”

Whatever the reason he stopped whatever it was he did during the day when not attending to me, a practice which I wasn’t even sure what it was he did, being that my senses, especially that of sight, were limited. I heard him walk towards me and he sat down next to me. He leaned in slightly and I caught a quick glimpse of a scrapped hood; it wasn’t much but it was the most of him that I had even seen before that day. Then he proceeded to answer.

“The last time I was in a HULK established construct was one of the few remaining medical centers. It was also the first time I consciously killed a man. He was the closest survivor to the flash that we had ever recovered.”

As he spoke I could only imagine that Doc was looking off into space, as he recollected something that obviously caused emotions to stir. And although his first sentence alone created a hundred or more questions to fly through my mind, I remained silent. I had wanted answers, so I allowed him the opportunity.

“Face was practically melted, lost his legs when a concrete slab crushed them completely, his arms covered in burns so bad that we had to amputate them both. There was a full staff on standby for nearly a week, keeping him alive. Honestly I don’t see how he survived long enough to be found in the first place, but we kept his heart beating.”

“Don’t know why we even bothered.”

He seemed to almost mutter the last bit under his breath, as though it was a thought he had always had, but never before voiced. He tried to hide it, but at the same time wanted to, needed to, say it.

“Luckily he was in such a deep coma that he couldn’t feel the pain, pleasure, memory or thought. This young man was as unfit and unthinking as the dead, until the day he would joined them.”

“Or so I thought.”

“The nurse woke me one day, her eyes wide with terror and completely speechless. Knowing it had something to do with the patient, I rushed into the room and found one of the patients standing beside the bed. I heard nothing other than the constant monitoring of the patients heart beat on one of the machines. Though as I approached the bed, that’s when I noticed movement. The patient’s head was convulsing, but rather than attempting to subdue the patient, the orderly was standing there, calmly, just writing on a pad.”

“Writing what the patient was saying.”

“You see, the head movements were not random, but Morse code. And on the paper it said the same words, over and over again. Kill me. The head movements went on for nearly four hours, the same message, over and over again. I couldn’t begin to imagine how long he had been conscious, if he was ever even in a coma, or if he felt and heard every little thing that happened.

“How many times was he screaming in pain, in agony, in horror, begging for some sort of relief only not to make a single sound?”