Children of the Beast embrace,
To scorn and hate the human race,
Consume the light that hugs the earth,
And aid the womb in giving birth,
To group that will appear,
And guide you through this final year,
The dark armies then will come,
When the sum is forty-one
-Sum 41-
~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~
Darkness. It filled his heart and comforted him, like a warm blanket on a cold night. Deafening silence filled the room, as the last of the echoes subsided. At last, he was all alone. They were all dead.
Slowly, Locke turned towards the main hatch. He took a step, only to stumble upon something - an outstretched hand, belonging to a man sprawled on the floor. A man he killed. It seemed like the hand was reaching for him, trying to drag him into the depths of the unknown where the occupants of this ship were already waiting for him. Locke grunted disgustedly and kicked the corpse aside.
He stepped outside, and was greeted by the pouring rain. It soaked his raven hair, and cascaded down his face, washing off the blood off his skin as it went. Then the feeling finally hit him. He was free. Free from the wretched ship and the filthy human resistance. Free at last.
~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~
The glare of the dim overhead lamp, coupled with the low humming of machinery finally dragged Locke from the world of the subconscious. Not that he had enjoyed his stay there, for his sleep was always plagued with dreams. Terrible dreams of fire and destruction.
Sitting up in his bunk, Locke observed the miserable dump that was the ship's living quarters. Rust infected every square inch of exposed hull. Conduits ran haphazardly across the walls like veins. Cramped and humid, the quarters smelt of old sweat socks. The small space barely accommodated the four bunks, stacked in pairs and placed in opposite sides of the room. Not exactly a very comfortable place to sleep in, but when you're dog tired, it didn't really matter anymore.
"You're up early." The cheery voice came from the bunk above his. Locke glared up at his crewmate, a young woman with brown hair. She returned his glare with a smile; not just on her lips but in her hazel eyes.
He merely grunted and proceeded to leave the quarters. He hated his crewmates, he hated this filthy ship, and he hated the rotten bastards who put him here in the first case. He didn't have to deal with Amber's crazy happy-go-lucky banter. No, not at all.
"Crabby as usual, I can see," the brunette girl said, getting down from her bunk. She successfully drew another grunt from Locke before he exited the room. She began to walk after him, and stopped at the doorway to make sure she hadn't stirred the other two crewmates.
They were still soundly asleep. Spiral in the top bunk and Clay in the lower one. They were young, very young indeed. Spiral was in his early teens and Clay only about a year older than him. That thought sickened Amber, for Zion was getting desperate, basically forcing children into service. She doubted if they would ever see Zion again.
Hearing lighter footfalls echoing with his own through the metal corridor, Locke quickened his pace. It seemed that Amber was not going to leave him alone today. Locke hung a right and snuck into the mess room, which was larger than the crew's quarters. There was a small stove at the back as well as a faucet. He closed the door (more of a hatch) and took a seat at the table, hoping that Amber was just going to walk straight on through the corridor, to the bridge.
His hopes were dashed. She had indeed intended to stick to him like a barnacle.
"What do you want anyway?" he scowled.
Amber appeared unperturbed and went to the cabinet at the back of the mess room. She removed a canister, poured some of its contents into a small pot, added some water, and placed it on the electric stove.
Locke ignored her. She would never understand him. No, for she has never experienced any of his dreams, nor seen any of the things he has seen. His dreams had always started the same way.
~~~~~~
There would be an open field, lush with green grass as far as the eye could see. He remembered this field, all right, for it came from his childhood, when he was still another human battery stapled to the Matrix. His father had brought him there during a weekend and it was about an hour's drive away from the city. In his dreams, Locke had returned, and was standing in the middle of the field.
What struck him the most about the field, both as a boy and in the dream, was that it seemed like the field was bordering the edge of the world; and if one were to keep walking through the lush grass in one direction, one would likely fall off the edge into a never ending abyss. Even the clouds seemed to be barred by some invisible barrier, with no clouds venturing past a certain point in the sky. There was an eerie unnatural feeling to this, for at this 'barrier', the clouds would form a straight, almost man-made line.
Locke would marvel at the sight of this, before they came. The metallic demons, numbering in their hundreds, crawling out from the abyss that lies past the edge of the world. He would turn to run, and darkness seemed to cover the sky like an oil slick, turning the beautiful blue into a sick black. Disoriented, he would trip and fall to the ground, which was no longer covered in grass, but was bare and barren and black like the sky. All the while, he could feel the machines closing in. Hear them, as their mechanical hums became louder, and louder, and louder…
~~~~~~
A bowl of protein-rich slop was placed in front of him, snapping him back to the real world. Locke looked up to see Amber's smiling face. She was trying to be nice to him for some reason. Without a word, Locke took the spoon placed next to the bowl and started to dig in, not even acknowledging Amber's existence.
A slight sulk on her face, Amber sat opposite him and began to have her breakfast.