Chapter One

"Which one do you like, black or burgundy?"

I snapped back into reality. "What?"

"Black or burgundy?"

"Oh," I said, looking down at the two suitcases that the clerk presented on the counter. I licked my lips, speaking softly, "Black."

"Alright," the elderly clerk smiled, going to the register. I handed him the credits, waiting quietly as he finished his task. Out the wide front windows of the shop, I could see the flow of human traffic along the sidewalks. Sera's warming sun which kept us alive on her surface was beaming bright on the city today. The cars and buses buzzed about like hordes of ants to their destinations, carrying loads of fat and happy individuals. They had jobs and schools and obligations. I had my briefcase.

"Sure is a nice day. So, where you goin'?" asked the clerk, smiling as he handed me my change. I pocketed the credits, sighing and taking my new suitcase under my arm. I looked up at him and said…"I dunno."

It was already eleven o'clock and no sirens. Aside from the sound of bustling traffic, the streets were quiet that day as I walked along towards my apartment on the East side of the city. As I walked, it seemed to me like everyone was going the opposite direction as I was, like they were strolling against me like some relentless tide. I didn't care; today I was leaving the city, for good maybe. I didn't know where I was headed, or what I would do, but I was on my way.

"Morning, Mr. Nash," someone chimed, but I said nothing. I had my mission.

It may have been the fact that I was fired from my job at the Imulsion mill yesterday, or it may have been the fact that my girlfriend moved out the week before, or it may have been the mere death of my favorite plant, or the twenty shots of liquor in my gut the previous night, or the bus that I had missed, or the lost sleep…whatever it was, it triggered the last explosion in the chain reaction of that mixed up head of mine. I was down and out for good. Some people would have gone insane, but Frasier Nash went on a refuge.

I heard the first siren as I reached the corner of Brail and Knoch. The crime tally of the day had started in the lovely city that I had called home for twelve years. Ever since the Pendulum Wars had ceased, the Army let me go, and I found my little piece of heaven on Knoch Avenue. And that story didn't seem to change for a decade.

Eight steps. I was eight steps from my door when I heard the second howling siren. I was surprised at first that the two had sounded so close together, then shrugged it off as a coincidence. Crime was big in the city nowadays. It was usual, especially on the weekends. But it was only noon….oh well. Time to pack.

I reached into my pocket and found my security card into the apartment complex. That's when I heard the third siren. This one sounded closer, only a block away. It was eerie, echoing off of the buildings like some gaping manmade cave. There were people on the streets, listening. They grew quiet, turning in the direction of the sirens, looking into an invisible void that we could all see spelled out our worst nightmares. Was it the ghastly silence on Knoch Avenue, or the look on Mrs. Peterman's face as she stopped sweeping her front porch to listen, or the fact that the ground was vibrating under my nice new tennis shoes? Whatever it is, it turned me pale, and led me inside to the illusion of safety that my apartment offered.

I climbed the stairs, shaking off what had just happened. It was a coincidence, that was all. I was going to pack my suitcase, catch a bus out of the city, rent a personal shuttle and disappear into the hills. I got to my room and opened my dresser drawers when I heard a convoy of police vans whirring past, the sirens howling down the corridor of street as they went along. The pitch rose and then fell in unison with my heart rate. There was someone shouting in the street but no one was listening to them. I almost laughed, because that's exactly how I had felt that past week.

Then, my apartment shook. The vibration was miniscule at first, then built up around me. The concrete walls shook, my possessions convulsing violently around me, like they were possessed by some sinister, unworldly spirit. The carbon lamp fell straight out of the ceiling, clattering to the kitchen floor in pieces. I heard a thud, like a sort of echoing sound from a mile away that went straight through every building, car and person in the city. An explosion.

I went to the window to try and peer outside into the street, when the glass shattered right in front of me, showering out into the air. I jumped backward, then crept forward nervously, peaking down into the street. Knoch was covered in a blanket of broken glass. Shards covered everything, shimmering in the sunlight. Every window in the city had become open in an instant. Was this that thing they always used to warn us about? Judgement Day? God, if you want to end the world, just wait until I get to the mountains.

There was a haze rising into the city, like the earth of Sera itself was breathing into us, warning us of some impending doom. Someone screamed in the street below as the cloud of debris enveloped everything. That was it, I was out of my apartment and back into the street. I found myself in a scattered crowd, all of us standing together looking up blankly for some sort of answer. There was only silence…a cold, haunting silence.

"Do you think it's…the Imulsion? Maybe a surge?" I heard someone say behind me.

"No," I decided to share, "Imulsion surges take days. This is something different. Something worse."

As if I had ushered in the apocalypse with my words, we heard the explosions sounding off elsewhere in the city. A thud, a wailing car alarm. A gunshot, a shout. A woman's shrill scream. The clash of war had erupted in an instant, like someone had flipped a switch. The familiar horrific clatter echoed around us. I was certain that hell itself had just punctured a hole into the city and we were all witnesses.

And then we all saw it, stirring in the haze that masked our senses. It crept towards us. I smelt it first, the sickening stench seeping to us like the thick haze. It was large, at least twenty feet tall. There were finger-like legs that stretched high into the air, like some giant spider reaching for the hidden sun. There were flashes of gunfire creating halos in the fog. We saw figures, running and bounding. There were screams, the sounds of radios and gunfire. Then there was another sound, something inhuman. It gave me chills, hearing it. Needless to say, that's when the running began.

We fled through the fog, down the street. We ran, every man for himself. We looked for anywhere safe, anything that could shield us from the terror. We hadn't fully seen it, but we didn't want to. We could feel it, somewhere behind us, panting and heaving as it went faster to catch up and make all our worst nightmares come true. Bullet tracers hissed around us, cutting through the fog. In seconds we were in a warzone. We fled together. Some of them went to back alleys or behind cars…I don't think they made it. Me, I kept running down the street until I couldn't run anymore.

I ran out of breath at the end of the street and stopped. I doubled over as I looked around and saw that I was alone. I caught my breath, hearing the terror continue in the heart of the city. Over the mask of the haze, I saw the towers of buildings jutting into the sky. One had started to crumble and fall, crashing down onto the rest of the city. Another was burned and charred, blackened by some hellish fire. The city was falling apart right before my eyes. I had no explanation for what was happening. It's funny how the brain doesn't register like that when the adrenaline is pumping. All you can do is run and hope for the best.