29

Spreading Flames

All this he promised, and through sunset's gate

He swept me, past the lapping lakes of flame,

And red-gold thrones of gods without a name

Who shriek in fear at some impending fate.

Then a black gulf with sea-sounds in the night:

"Here was your home," he mocked, "when you had sight!"

– H. P. Lovecraft, "Homecoming"

As the Dark Man had hours before, NeoDevimon stood upon a rooftop, overlooking the busy street beneath him. His tattered wings spread out behind him, and the summer wind whistled mournfully through the holes in their leathery expanse. For the last time, he flexed his jagged claws, which hung from pendulous arms that reached to the level of his ankles.

At last, he turned and stepped to the edge and threw himself into the darkness between buildings. Not far from the ground the wings opened again, defying the laws of aerodynamics by bringing him to a stop inches from the pavement. A ways down the narrow alleyway was a door leading into the building. It was locked, but that meant little to NeoDevimon.

"Guilty Claw." The metallic blades tore through the door and the deadbolt it concealed, and he stepped inside. There were no humans to be seen yet, but he knew that the building was full of them. Tokyo was overflowing with life, just waiting to end. This was as good a place to start as any.

Taichi seemed to awake to the sound of screams. They belonged to his mother. In a few moments he had managed to orient himself, and scrambled out of his bed's lower bunk. As he approached the door he began to make out another, softer sound, like the slap of wet feet on the apartment's floor.

Even as he opened his bedroom door, there came a third sound – the slamming shut of the apartment's main entrance – leaving the screams fainter and the footsteps, if that's what they were, inaudible. Taichi tore through the dinette and put all his weight against the front door. He expected it to fly open, but instead it was immobile under his shoulder. His hand detected something wrong, and his eyes turned downwards to confirm the impression. Yes, the door handle was gone.

Mind racing, he wondered where the rest of his family was. His father was probably at work, but Hikari? And what about Tailmon? Surely they'd be together, he thought, as he turned around and prepared to search the apartment for them. Dimly his mind registered that the view through the glass doors to the balcony had also changed, replacing Tokyo with a gray ocean stretching off to meet the horizon.

Dad must have drowned, Taichi thought numbly, but at the moment all his conscious focus was on his sister. In the adrenaline of the moment a sentence appeared in his mind and began to loop in an endless refrain. I'd never forgive myself. I'd never forgive myself.

Then, with all the suddenness of a television being unmuted, he heard a new set of noises. He had already been heading towards Hikari's bedroom, and this was where the sounds had their source.

"Neko Punch!"

Followed by a thick, smacking sound, a grunt from Tailmon, a heavy thud, and his sister calling her partner's name in tones of panic. Now he had reached the door, which stood cracked open by several inches. His hand shot for the doorknob, but there was a crash, the building seemed to shake, and the door slammed closed, almost on his outstretched fingers. The knob was there, but it would not turn.

In desperation (I'd never), Taichi threw the full weight of his body against the door (forgive myself) twice, but it refused to give.

"Onii-chan! Tail – Tailmon –"

Taichi was largely beyond rational thought, but he had a vague idea that a battering ram was needed. He turned around and made for the dinette to grab a chair, but hadn't taken more than a few steps before his foot caught on something soft and silent, and sent him sprawling. His hands broke the fall, sending waves of shock up his forearms. With a yell he rolled over, and saw that what he had fallen over was Meeko the cat, hit by a truck in 2001 and still not fully decayed two years later.

Taichi scrabbled once more to his feet, and laid hands on one of the chairs. As he did so, the dull gray light of the day outside the windows darkened. Taichi turned his head to look once more out to the balcony. A monstrous shape was barreling towards the apartment – he saw the bone helmet and ragged wings of an Airdramon, like the ones that had carried his brainwashed partner while under the Kaiser's command, but dark and colorless like everything else outside.

There was an apocalyptic crash, the decimation of the balcony and the shattering of the doors. Taichi was thrown again to the floor. His head bounced off its surface, and he found himself staring hazily past the couch and into the champing jaws of the Airdramon, the dragon's head thrust into the ruins of the apartment, obscuring the pseudo-daylight but not silencing the thunder of its still-beating wings.

Taichi's head hurt. He couldn't hear Hikari anymore. It was all he could do to shift his hands and prepare to push himself off the floor.

The Airdramon had stopped trying to force its way farther into the building. It ceased to snap its jaws and instead opened them wide. Deep in the blackness of its throat, there was a swirl of movement. The next instant black fire was pouring into the apartment. Taichi lost sight of his surroundings as they were swallowed up in the tenebrous flames. Now he was truly in pain. His flesh was being eaten away, and he knew that not because the dream told him so, but because he could feel it.

There were many sirens blaring in the streets of Tokyo that night, and many people awoke from unquiet dreams to a reality just as disturbing. Most of these sirens issued from police cars and ambulances, but in Tamachi the first to sound belonged to fire engines. There had been some form of massive electrical fire in an office building. It must be arson, since multiple fires had started on different floors within minutes of each other. Some people had already managed to make it out of the building alive, several inexplicably delirious employees telling their rescuers about the winged man with too-long arms.

At first, Ken was relieved to find himself awake. This night was turning out to be just as long as thosepreceding it, and he felt keenly the wrongness of wakefulness being more peaceful than sleep. Outside, he could hear the wail of sirens. That may have been what woke him. Turning his head, he noticed that his room was lit by a reddish glow, apparently coming through the glass door below his bunk.

"What is it, Ken-chan?" Wormmon asked. "What's going on?"

Ken slowly fit the pieces together as the nightmares faded and reality took hold of him again.

"Is there a fire?" he wondered aloud. It would have to be quite a blaze to cast a glow like that, and to draw as many sirens as he could hear out in the street. "I'll go see," he said to his partner, and descended to the floor. Sure enough, one of the large buildings near his apartment complex was aflame. Fire danced in the windows of several floors. "This… this is bad. Wormmon!"

The larval Digimon hopped out of the bunk and into his partner's open arms.

"We can help!" Ken exclaimed, and Wormmon jumped to the floor as the boy began to dress himself in normal clothes.

Within a few minutes, Stingmon was on the scene, hovering just above the burning building.

"What do we do, Ken-chan?"

It was a difficult question to answer. There was not one fire but a multitude, and any one of them might be threatening the lives of those inside. But they didn't have time to hesitate.

"We'll start over there," Ken said, pointing to one of the top floors. He had an idea that they could clear out the building floor by floor. He hoped those being rescued wouldn't be terrified of Stingmon. Everyone was familiar with the Digimon incidents of December 2002, but mistrust and confusion were still common almost a year later.

Stingmon, holding his human partner, began his descent towards the window indicated. Making sure he had a tight hold of Ken with one arm, he prepared to strike with the other. Spiking Finish would get them through one of the intact windows and into the building. But as Stingmon's arm shot forward, a nearby window erupted on its own. A hand emerged, clutching a man in shirt and tie. His arms waved wildly before the hand's grip relaxed, and he began to fall.

"Catch him!" Ken screamed, and Stingmon aborted his attack and plunged after the flailing figure. The air rushed against Ken's face as they dropped. The boy looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of the hand's owner. Subconsciously, he may simply not have wanted to be watching if the plummeting man hit the ground before Stingmon could catch hold of him.

A figure was emerging from the window, and in the light of the flames Ken could see clearly that it was not human. There was a sudden jolt as Stingmon's free hand caught hold of the falling man, and for a sickening second Ken lost all thought of the thing in the window as he felt himself nearly slip through his partner's clutch. Then the descent continued, more slowly. Ken wished vaguely that the man would stop screaming, and turned his gaze upwards again.

He caught a glimpse of flapping batwings, and saw the gaunt creature propel itself into the air and clear of the building it had set ablaze. Then it passed out of the range of the firelight, and vanished into the night.

They're here, Ken thought coldly. Just like last year. But this was different, because they were battling on two fronts. They had not yet fixed the problems in the Digital World, and the war was already drawing closer to home.