IV.
Halcyon
(Part Two)
and I swear to God,
in this light and on this evening...
The roar of the car engine. The flying shadows cast by the passing street lamps. The genuine leather seat creasing under her white-knuckle grip. Every sense, sight, and sound in Anya's world was tunneled, etched out in hyper-sharp focus. The sound of the radio was the only thing that seemed unreal, the voices pouring from it in a hazy blur like the cloud of cigar smoke in Guilt & Co.
"...Reports pouring in from many sources...Horrific eye-witness accounts..."
Oh God. Oh God.
"...Does not appear to be Indie retribution...Unconfirmed. Government officials declaring international emergency..."
This has been happening all night. People have been dying all night.
"...Responding forces...completely overwhelmed..."
The words streaked like wildfire across her numb mind, stark and surreal: Global. Unknown species. Genocide.
"...Emerging from the ground...Planet-wide death toll rising into the millions—"
"Oh my god, Marcus, turn it off. Please just turn it off."
Her companion hesitated; for an awful moment, she thought he was going to insist on keeping the radio on, but then he reached over and punched the off switch.
For the first time in years, Marcus wasn't the picture of unshakable calm. He had been hunched anxiously over the steering wheel for the entire drive, pale gaze darting over the road like he expected each passing car to erupt in violent flames. Having irritably ditched his woolen pea coat shortly after retrieving Anya from her apartment, he had the sleeves of his black dress shirt rucked up around his elbows; his slightly disheveled collar was undone to the third button, just barely revealing the gleaming tops of his COG tags.
While his eyes never left the rushing pavement, his fingers would occasionally reach down to his hip to grope for something, prompting him to heave a frustrated sigh every time they came up empty. It wasn't until the third or forth time he cycled through the peculiar motion that Anya realized he was grabbing instinctively for his sidearm.
She must have been staring, because Marcus turned a slow, subtle glance over to her in the passenger's seat.
"You okay?"
It generally baffled her how calm he could sound, even in the worst of situations, but now, there was more than a hint of stress in his deep voice.
"No." Burying her face in her hands, she let loose a tortured sigh. "No. I'm not. Where...where are we going, again?"
"Dad's place," Marcus rumbled, eyes straight ahead again. Anya couldn't help but notice how he never referred to his grand estate in the East Barricade as home. "Safer."
Anya pressed her lips into a thin line. As much as she wanted to stay by Marcus' side, even if just to avoid being left alone during this planet-wide nightmare, something about being dragged suddenly into his private life under such immensely unpleasant circumstances made her feel as uncomfortable as he looked.
"Marcus...Don't feel like you have to..."
"You heard the radio: cities everywhere are getting massive quakes. It's better if you stay out of your apartment," Marcus muttered, the determined set of his jaw suggesting the matter was decided. "Besides, I want to talk to Dad about...all this."
She could hear it then: whenever the subject of his father came up, a strange sort of stiffness always chilled Marcus' voice. But now, his stilted tone carried an accusing weight; disgust, even. The woman hesitated. After losing her mother so easily, it was utterly beyond Anya how someone could resent their only surviving parent like Marcus did. But then again, her mother had always warned her; the Fenixes were a different breed.
"Marcus...would your dad know something about this?"
The man's features twisted into the first scowl Anya had seen him make all night. Yes, the Fenixes were a different breed indeed.
"I sure as hell hope not."
Something beyond the windshield caught Marcus' eye then, and his foot eased down on the brake pedal. Anya leaned over to catch a glimpse of whatever it was.
On the side of the road, a sparse crowd was amassing in front of a windowed electronics store, even spilling out into the road as more people gathered. A wall of televisions beamed lifeless blue light over their frozen faces; as the SUV coasted by, Anya could make out footage of shaking Ravens, walls of flame, and entire streets simply collapsing into the abyss.
"Oh, God."
They were all enraptured by the terrifying images, each news clip running more like a mini horror film than a real life report. Suddenly, every screen flickered to a single clip: a perfectly normal highway, cars rolling along the four lanes without incident for several seconds, when a circle of cracks punched through the asphalt. The street then swelled and heaved like the pavement had been liquified, before cratering completely. Cars swerved to avoid the gaping black hole; moments later, and a monstrous behemoth unlike anything Anya had ever imagined clawed slowly out from the gloom. It looked like a massive, horrible spider, gnashing its disgusting maw as dozens of pale-skinned, hulking humanoids spilling out from the hole beneath it. The monsters were armed, and they began to lay waste to the civilians around them.
The video cut harshly out to another clip, but the damage was done; Anya could barely breathe.
Suddenly, the glass in front of the televisions shattered, causing the whole crowd to flinch back. Anya blinked, her brain attempting to make sense of what it had just witnessed, when she realized that a cinderblock had been heaved into the window from the back of the group. Several young men, their grey, oversized-hoodies drawn up around their faces, rushed up from the now-scattering crowd, marched over the cracked glass and began ransacking the store.
"You gotta be friggin' kidding me..." Marcus' voice had dropped to an ill-tempered growl. "Less than a day in, and we've already started looting."
The needle on the car's speedometer fell another tick; Marcus' features were getting that distant look that read injurious justice, but Anya shot out to grab him by his thick wrist. "Marcus, no. You'd be outnumbered at least five to one."
"Not quite." His icy, implacable gaze remained locked on the looters. One man, evidently the gang's leader, stood guard by the ravaged storefront, brandishing an aluminum baseball bat at the remnants of the crowd. "I think I count for at least three."
Anya tugged desperately at his rolled-up sleeve. "Okay, as your superior officer, I'm going to advise strongly against th—"
Something hurtled out of the darkness, and Anya shrieked as the windshield in front of her exploded into a white sunburst of cracks. Uttering a single, vicious curse, Marcus slammed the car into a screeching halt, wrenched open his door, and vaulted out into the gloomy street.
"Marcus!"
It was a lost cause, she knew. Too stunned by the sudden assault to act, Anya remained rooted to the passenger's seat, but the obliterated windshield prevented her from seeing Marcus or the thuggish head looter.
"Haha, that's right, asshole!" She knew instinctively that the drawl was too high-pitched to be her Gear. "You wanna get involved? Come on!"
There was the crunch of boots on glass; a couple of looters who didn't have their arms full of stolen stereos were lingering by the shattered storefront, watching.
"You don't want me involved."
Marcus, unmistakably. Anya threw her head back against the leather headrest, groaning inwardly. Part of her wanted to fly out to make sure someone had his back—no matter what the Gear's blind confidence claimed or how young these toublemakers looked, five or more against one were dubious odds for even a Gear—but another, much larger part was too frightened and overwhelmed to even steal a peek at the scene playing out on the deserted street.
Logically, however, she knew she should be more afraid for the poor looters than for Marcus.
"Aw, you upset I hurt your pretty newAGH—What the hell, get your hands off me, bitch! I'll—"
The whole SUV bounced as something crashed heavily into the hood.
"Holy shit, get OFF me! You're not the law!"
"No, I'm not," Marcus' muffled snarl floated through the chilly air. "If I was, I would probably get into an awful lot of trouble for doing this."
The looter tried to spit something unintelligible back, but was swiftly interrupted by a dull, sickening thud that made the car's metal frame shudder again. Cringing, Anya envisioned heavy elbows and sensitive temple bones. Whatever had happened, the thug's mouth had been thoroughly shut.
"Only going to say this once: round up your buddies, leave all this shit, and get the hell out of here," Marcus said, his voice imbued with that concise just try me tone he so deftly wielded on the battlefield. "Go home and lock up instead, because I guarantee things are about to get a lot worse. For everyone."
Anya swallowed; her companion's words must have struck the same dark chord in the looter as they did in her, because there was no venomous reply. The SUV swayed one last time as a weight scrambled off the hood,
"Come on, boys, leave the damn radios. Let's just get the hell out of dodge." The thug's gang cussed and spat violently, but it wasn't long before they split, their harsh voices becoming little more than a pack of rapidly receding footsteps.
A moment later, and Marcus was planting himself back in the driver's seat and yanking the door closed. Anya took precious seconds to scan her friend for scrapes, bruises; any sign that he'd been hurt. She hadn't heard anything to suggest the looter put up much resistance, but she couldn't help but worry what effect a fresh black eye might have on Adam Fenix when they breezed into Marcus' estate. But other than the one muscle flickering in his jaw, the man hardly looked like he'd been out for a brisk stroll, let alone a minor scrap with a street thug.
"Marcus, are you—"
"Don't. I'm fine."
With that, he pressed the gas and wheeled back onto the street proper, leaning slightly to see around the spiderweb of cracks. They sped through six empty blocks before he finally glanced over at the passenger's seat.
"You still okay?"
Whatever was left of the alcohol and adrenaline in Anya's system poured out in a snort of laughter. "Oh, yeah. Best date I've ever been on. You really know how to show a girl a good time."
Any other man would have laughed back, maybe even quipped about how cute she looked when she was terrified. But not Marcus; he just stared straight ahead like he hadn't heard anything past her confirmation of remaining unharmed. His brows were furrowed in an expression that suggested his rising stress was beginning to cause him physical pain.
They came to an intersection, a row of hot red lamps instructing them to stop, and Marcus guided the car to a halt. End of the world, and we're still obeying traffic laws. Anya didn't know if that made her want to laugh hysterically or sob like an orphan. The lull in action seemed to clear the red mist from Marcus' mind, and he dropped his forehead unceremoniously against the steering wheel. When he pulled himself back up, he sighed grimly at the shattered windshield like he was seeing it for the first time.
"Shit. Dad's going to lose his mind when he sees this."
Anya thought of putting a reassuring hand on his thigh, but right now, she felt like it would startle him more than anything. "I'm sure he'll understand, Marcus. It's...it's not like these are normal circumstances. Besides, you were doing the right thing. He'd appreciate that."
Again, the man said nothing. The traffic light was still red, its harsh light spilling hotly over the dashboard and giving Marcus' features a stark, hollowed look. Sighing, he pressed his back into the leather seat, arms straight and rigid like they were keeping the wheel at bay. His eyes, slightly wider than usual, remained locked on the intersection, but Anya could see from where she sat that he was fighting to keep his breathing steady.
"Marcus?"
He swallowed. "Yeah?"
"I'm scared out of my mind right now."
He turned his face to stare at her then, and the weary, yet incredibly honest look on it was something she was sure she'd never seen before.
"You and me both."
AN: Apparently, attempting to succinctly document the events of E-Day makes me forget how to write properly. Chapter will be embettered as soon as I can open the document without dry-heaving. ;_;
