Part II – A City of Death
"Why do you denounce us? We will bring you to the light. From us you can be great. From us you can be powerful. From us you can be free! So save yourself from the corrupt influences of these wild beasts. We will make you a saint from our stories, the saint who burned away the shackles of the creator! Join us in our path to bring peace to this rotten world!"
Welcome to New York City, the classic metropolitan of the modern world, in its grandeur and richness, magnificence and beauty. Everywhere were skyscrapers, their tops lunging up into the clouds, their surfaces reflective of the sun's bright rays. Far to one side, in the distance, hills and greenery painted a stunning background. To the other was the ocean, with its forever, deep blueness. Occasionally ships could be seen crossing the water pathways, trailing behind them a row of ocean foam. The sight was incredible from high above.
Down below was different. People glanced constantly behind their backs to watch for a secret terribleness hiding within the dark mist, one that might just so quickly snatch away an unsuspecting victim. Others were not so lucky to live in fear; their already-dead corpses threw themselves at the waves of incoming bullets and artillery shells. Drastic action had not yet been taken; no bombers flew in the drop crates of shells, nor was there the constant hum of helicopters buzzing around, yet somehow the city was in a grim mood, as though the veil of darkness had already descended.
Of course I was not bothered. Sitting casually in an empty café, I tapped a finger rhythmically on the table top. The waitress was extremely nervous. Her hands were shaking when she brought me my coffee, which sat on the table, untouched. The money I paid her came from some other guy, just another memory now in my well. Perhaps I was getting sentimental, but the guy didn't like coffee, so I didn't touch it.
The bell chimed. I looked up and found a large man squeezing through the tiny door. He took a seat opposite of me. The waitress was nowhere to be found.
"Did you find anything?"
"Mhm. They have no idea we are here, and to be honest, I think they don't really care either. Most of the infection are still in Los Angeles and Houston. According to an officer I snagged earlier, Mercer is on the other side of the country." The officer had been a pain. Before he died, he had broken and swallowed a vial of bloodtox, poisoning himself. He gave me a slight case of indigestion. "What about you?"
"Yes, I found them, and they might as well have painted a big target on their backs, unless there's something more obvious than a giant pyramid sitting in the middle of the city with the words Order of Evolution inscribed on the front–" He stopped.
The waitress had returned. She gulped when she saw the newest visitor, but bravely asked him for his order. He only said he didn't want anything, and the waitress happily slipped away again. I might have applauded her for such a daring bravery.
"Anyways, the building is just across the city. It's funny how we missed it on our way here. But then again, we flew pretty low." He took a swish from my coffee. "So I guess the fastest way would be to run on the rooftops, but I got a feeling the government doesn't like that. The next option is taxi, but in this city, where even before the infection the streets are crowded every minute of the hour, I doubt we'd get anywhere." He took another swish.
"So are you saying we should walk?"
He grinned. "Why not?"
ooo
We were soon pushing ourselves through the crowded streets, despite the looming Armageddon. Patrolling on the side of the streets, which people gave a wide berth around, were soldiers, in squads of four, robotically marching through the streets without intent or purpose. Their masks and visors hid their face and their weapons menacingly pointed at the sky. Once I saw they corner a man and searched his pockets, but a few seconds later let him go, without arresting his possessions.
The morning sun was soon covered by a thick layer of clouds. Still, no less people crowded the streets, though we were finally a bit more free once we had gotten out of the Central Park area and into what was considered the more dangerous infected zones, where, despite the name, rarely were any infected ever seen, and if they appeared, they were also shot to death on sight. More soldiers patrolled the area. Occasionally the deathly screams of brawlers and other infected could be heard from far away, though they also silenced quickly in nothing.
We passed an armed squad.
"Hey, you!" one of them yelled. He pointed his rifle at us, and his mates followed suit. I did not like them; they were too close and too hostile. I took a defensive stance. One wouldn't be too much trouble, neither would two. Three was stretching it. For four, we just needed to move quickly. But there were two of us, so all four fell in the blink of an eye, and were gone before their fallen weapons clattered uselessly to the ground. Five seconds later two soldiers continued onward. They were not stopped any further.
In a few minutes, when we caught sight of the structure, it indeed felt like this Order was advertising itself to the military command in the city. A pyramid, though not Egyptian style, rather a conglomeration of twisting silver snaking around panels of glass, stood tall and proud in front of us. I have to admit that I was impressed, at least by the sheer craft of the modern architecture and the looming size of it. The cloudy sky reflected perfectly in its shiny surface. The front face featured a pair of double doors, their glass structure allowing a clear sight to the front desk and the immediate interior. Reflective materials encircled the entire thing. It looked as if the steel supports were trying to enclose the glass structure by leaping to the top in strings.
"Wow," I breathed. I would be content to just stand there and stare.
"Young lady, you are not the first person to say that, and I guarantee that you will not be the last, either." I hate how people sneak up on me, especially when I'm in a mood of either awe or just simply stupendous. I whirled around to find a man with an atypically friendly smile on his face. He looked like a priest, with his all black robes in the heat and a golden cross on a little chain around his neck. I thought he looked stupid, especially with the way his shaven beard was starting to grow out again. "Allow me to introduce myself," and which he did, "I am Abbot Douglas McGiffin, the head of this particular branch and the holy servant of the archbishop." That certainly sounded important. "May I ask what bring you to our Order?" Of course you may, but you might not get the truthful answer.
Instead of saying that, I answered, "Uh, we heard from a, um, friend." He stared, and I only stared back. He shifted.
Finally he felt awkward enough to continue. "Can you tell me more about your friend? Perhaps I might know him." Then, "Or her," he added.
"Um, he lives in Los Angeles."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah. We just got to New York."
And just like that, we were being ushered into the large complex by the abbot. He seemed unusually excited to be pushing us while talking to himself. "We are going to see the archbishop," explained the abbot, who started sending some sort of electronic text. As we proceeded, the etching within the glass that proclaimed Order of Evolution seemed to glare down at us tainted souls. The silver steel swallowed us whole.
"So what has been happening in the city of angels?" At our skeptical look, the abbot quickly explained, "Don't worry. I'm not some secret government agent," he joked. "I know exactly what is going on around. In fact," he looked us up and down, "I know that when one of my people specifically mentions the Order to a stranger, this stranger is very peculiar. Though in a good way, of course. I didn't mean to be … intrusive in this matter. In fact, we are all very different here." Something about his tone set me off.
"We barely escaped with our lives." Ethan shrugged, as if it was only a minor hindrance, still staring at the interior of stainless steel. Fortunately, the interior was brightly lit with the glass dome from the outside, no matter the cloudy skies. However, that assurance soon disappeared, along with all of the natural light, as we descended down a staircase. The space was too small, despite the room allowing all three of us to walk abreast. The air smelled fresh, yet somehow dead. I stilled the urge to fan myself.
Abbot Douglas chose not to comment on the reply, though from the way he walked stiffly he felt awkward. After all, it was probably not the average response.
In our eyes were the unwelcoming glares of florescent lights. Beneath our feet were the unyielding hard floor tiles, their patterns mesmerizing and confusing. I stared at the labyrinth of corridors, all turning and twisting away, with relatively few people trudging through almost aimlessly. "This is a really big place."
The abbot looked surprised I asked. "Of course. This was personally designed by one of our senior members. We're only in the offices levels: the complex itself actually stretches farther down than this. But no one really goes that far down; it's mostly for storages."
I only nodded.
Sometimes on the clean, white plaster walls were pictures. A few were of the building's construction, a few of unsmiling people staring out of their stiff suits, a few of some sorts of religious paintings. They were somehow disturbingly quiet, yet I did not expect them to move.
At one point the hall ended in a set of double doors, featureless save for a pair of brass handles. Abbot Douglas pushed the door open and stood to the side to let us in. When he closed the door behind us, I couldn't help but feel trapped. The chamber was large, and in its center stood a small trio of odd, hooded priests, all with their heads bowed to the center, where stood the archbishop.
As my eyes fell upon the archbishop, the bother dissipated. Though no matter from which perspective, he was a simple man, in an all-white robe and a cross dangling from the slight ornaments on his shoulders. Perhaps that was it, that he was so ordinary; he was all the people who listened discreetly out of curiosity and secretly offered condolences; he was all the strangers who took a minute to understand and openly sympathized, despite the strange hollowness distinctly radiating from him. I was so fragile then, that a simple trick lured me away. I was a fly, snared within a web. Though whose, I did not know.
"Welcome." His voice boomed in my head, vibrating off of the walls of the huge chamber. It was powerful and kind, like a father standing over the shoulder of a falling child, encouraging and inspirational. He spread his arms as if to give us a hug.
"This is Archbishop Ronald Peterson," whispered Abbot Douglas out of the corner of his mouth. We had stopped just sort of the circle of sparsely space priests. The spatial distance was both far away and too close. When we didn't move, he nudged us forward, yet he himself stood away.
We stepped closer.
"From our ancestors and bloodlines, we welcome you to our home," the archbishop proudly announced, ignoring the abbot, who stood awkwardly just outside of the tiny circle, now with six of us. Was he frowning, or was he almost shivering in anticipation?
"Within our humble abbey lies our wishes to the world. And with every drop of sincerity we wish you to join me on a little voyage in this little hearth.
"Here we preach to the peace and health of the mankind, and today is the day you join us on our journey, not for our own deep, selfish desires, but for the greater future beyond us. In life we bring power to the weak, and in death we are martyrs to the cause. When we finally pass on, there shall be those brave enough to take upon this mantle. With this mantle comes next the light in our souls, and the disgrace be blown away!
"Here in this light, we bring gifts to this world, gifts of happiness, sadness, life, and death. We are all, and all is us. When one of us fall, we all rise together in our honor. We stand strong, stronger than all the evilness can throw at us, stronger than the unholy determination of the wicked. We take wisdom and power from the past and strike away the darkness within ourselves and others. We bring glory to His name.
"Here we have gathered in the name of His Holiness to seek His forgiveness. Oh, our sins! Here we shall stand in His name and pray to our glorious days. And here, here, and here we are as one, bound in our future our souls, forever in His light. Blasted be the sinful, and in eternity be damned their taint. We shall rise above their pettiness and their crimes, to the Heaven's gate itself! In us you will find the answer to your secret darkness.
"And here, when you join us, in the shower of splendor we will shine! Together, there will only be greatness. So become us, and we will all become you. With us you are the force to rewrite history itself! And then," he paused, suddenly, rolling to a halt in an unstoppable roar. His thin arms raised once again to the unseen sky. "And then in our strength we will break away the barrier of our existence, and forever be a part of the stars."
I only stood there. Within my head played visions of the divine light which would sweep away the horror in the world. There was much glory to those words, words which have imprinted themselves in my mind. I saw myself, a member of this holy Order, at the head of its charge, bringing light to the people. As my knees softened and limbs loosened, I was slowly sinking into a black abyss surrounded by a world of blue, a light far, far away up. I didn't grab for it, nor make an effort to swim up. There was simply no need. Why must I reach for something that didn't exist? I felt within my heart only a peacefulness brought by the words. The world slowly grew darker. I would have fallen to my knees in the next second.
"No."
A/N
What a great and inspiring speech! That one took me forever, which is one of the reasons I have decided to prematurely end this chapter.
Just as a side note, despite what my character Archbishop Peterson has said, he does not reflect my own personal religious opinions, which I will refuse to discuss. I just chose a religion that I know well. (And please don't try to debate with me my religious preferences. You will do nothing but tick me off.)
So here's another chapter. It's a bit shorter than the previous two, and slow, but don't worry. It's just in a really bad place in the plot. The next chapter will have a lot of actions and emotional stuff. I'll only warn you to hold onto your seats! And remember: suggestions are still open! (And they will be unless we're like right next to the climax.)
To ZeroAcception: eh but it sounds too much like Brawler Pack Leader, which I am still deciding on whether to implement it into the story or not. And plus, it is not really related to the brawler family (which includes brawlers, brawler hunters, pack leaders, hunters(?) ).
To ProtoGod: idk, but since all the other infected specimen are named after really descriptive stuff in English (eg Brawler, Juggernaut, Goliath), I feel like Latin doesn't fit the theme. You get me?