Chapter 3 Different Son

The stillness of the sky’s eye bathed them with its rays as the familiar sight of the guardhouse came into view as the country road began to smooth ever so slightly. The two guards on duty straightened up a bit at the approaching siblings.

Marik recognized the two from the various times they had done this. The shorter one with a dark mustache was Dillon Poshter and the tall blond with an undercut was Reed Jorgson. Both were pretty friendly, if not a little annoying, in Marik’s opinion; but they hadn’t ratted them out to their mother so they were alright.

“Back again,” Dillon greeted.

“No longer than usual,” Marik nodded his head. “Still need to see our papers?”

“We still want to keep our jobs,” Reed joked as the Kaisers complied with the official mandate.

“We must make this post exciting for you guys, then,” Mackenzie charmed, knowing what comes next.

“Hey, better a couple of familiar brats than some backward country bumpkin,” Dillon figured as Reed handed him a small rectangular box. “Can’t exactly say this part doesn’t gross me out sometimes. Pull your eyelids down for me, please.”

“We go to and from the same spot every time,” Marik informed the man. “Don’t you think we’d be infected by now?”

“I think I agree with Reed and would like to keep my job,” Dillon stated. “It’ll be over quick, you know the drill.”

Complying with Dillon, Marik pulled his lower eyelid down as he held the metal box and fixed attachment close to his orb. It bore a resemblance to a needle, but a bit wider in diameter. Dillon hit something on the box and Marik felt a small puff hit the space between his sclera and lid. His muscles gave an involuntary flinch before Dillon pulled it away, satisfied.

“All clear,” he declared before doing the same with Mackenzie and clearing her as well. Marik knew why they did this, it was all because of Lundermann's disease.

Along with the Wybriks, Lundermann’s disease had also plagued humanity in the early days of its arrival. It was a sickness that infected the brain causing hemorrhaging from all orifices of the skull that would lead to eventual death and was contagious only through physical contact. It originated in Tamaples so the state was the harshest on enforcing safety policies. Anyone coming to any city or town within Tamaples had to get checked. Marik had no idea how exactly it worked, but that wasn’t for him to know. The test must be accurate since there had been no new cases since its introduction.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Reed asked, taking the tester back. “Although if you really wanted to get around it, we do accept payment in the form of Antoinne’s baked goods.” Marik stared pointedly. They already passed the test, no need for awkward talk.

“Taking bribes sounds like a good way to lose your job,” he plainly stated.

“Not bribes - payment,” Reed corrected. “Think of it as thanks for keeping this charming town safe from any disease.”

Dillon nodded. “Think about it; guards being happy and lax shows you, fine people, that everything’s going smoothly.” Mackenzie grimaced charmingly.

“I suppose that does make sense,” she began. “You’ll be able to share your payment with the Matanians and smooth over any conflict.”

They looked at each other and chuckled. “That’s the idea.”

Marik kept quiet, even as the pair of guards gave them entry back into their town. Friendly as they were, it was people like those two that dissuaded Marik from a military career. Sure, it would be nice to work the easiest shift at the easiest position, but that satisfaction would eventually turn to boredom. If that was where the taxes went, they should do away with the military.

His musings were interrupted by the ringing of a triangle instrument as they rounded the corner of a few houses into the southern residential area. A small crowd of people had gathered around a man dressed in white and purple robes standing atop a wood box. They both inwardly groaned.

“I thought they didn’t come out this way,” Mackenzie whispered to him as they meandered around the crowd.

“Maybe they’re onto us.” He hoped that he was actually joking when he said that. He recognized this particular preacher as being Son Josef, a man in his mid-forties and a vocal member of their clergy. Marik tried his best to tune Son Josef out as they skirted around.

“-day of great blessings may befall us,” Son Josef raised his arms to the sky. “We pray that you may hear our voices as the anniversary of your arrival approaches. Grace us with your presence once more, divine DON.”

Son Josef didn’t refer to an actual person named Don, he meant the DON, or, Dominion Over Nigh-omnipotence. A god. While the actual name of their deity was said to be Eluhin, the acronym served as a form of fearful respect to anyone not wishing to take its name in vain. The DON was said to be a great cosmic entity that created everything and first visited their world at one point before departing 724 years ago.

“You brought about the unity to our warring ancestors from your presence alone, unshackled souls from confinement,” Son Josef preached on. “Just a mere word from your voice will disperse the growing shadow in the east; of this, we pray.” There was silence from the crowd, so Mackenzie kept her laugh stifled.

“What a crock,” she whispered to him.

Marik whispered back one word, “Wybriks.”

Those monstrous beings were first given life before the DON departed and remained in their world as a living reminder of that deity’s presence and power. Even though it was mandated that everyone be registered to a parish of Eluhin, the Kaiser twins hadn’t kept up with the bi-weekly visits (or at all). Marik had always been uncomfortable around those preachers and how they would come right up to you in the parish to grasp your hand while staring directly into your eyes to “better see the soul within.” If they could actually see his soul, he hoped that they saw that it wanted to be left alone.

Mackenzie pursed her lips in thought. “Alright, fair point. But they’ve been sprouting the same spiel since the DON departed. Nothing’s changed. If they really want to see DON so badly, maybe put those generous donations to good use.”

“So long as they keep us out of it, let them do what they want,” Marik wanted to dismiss the passionate preachers.

They had made it near the alley to lead out of the crowd as Son Josef began speaking. “Are there those among our herd that seek to stray? Young man and lady, will you not stay and unshackle your soul?”

Marik felt an invisible vase shatter in his stomach while his legs teetered between walking and standing. Next to him, Mackenzie scrunched her face in frustrated shame. Sparing a look over his shoulder, he saw Son Josef looking their way with a benevolently shadowed smile. The crowd had yet to notice them, however.

Giving his sister a push on the back to hurry them down the alley, they left with falsified nonchalance. With his hair, they would have been easily recognized by someone in that crowd. Neither of them fully relaxed until they knew for certain that the outer limit of the town was safely behind them. More pairs of birds flew with cautious grace overhead.

The bathing glow from the sky above cast the main street with its familiar odd warmth. There was still a modest amount of activity milling about, people enjoying food and wine on patios, owners walking their dogs, a group of toddlers taking turns riding a new trike; the tourism seemed to have halted for now as the travelers sought shelter for the night. This was the time of day Marik preferred. Balanced between lively and quaint, between warm and cool.

They passed by Wilco and Sons Appliances, Mackenzie’s bright eyes capturing the look of some of the focusing lenses and stills on display. “One day. Mark my words, brother, one day.” He wrote on invisible paper.

“‘One day,’” he parroted. “Mackenzie Kaiser, 724 DD. Got it.” She bumped her shoulder to his. “You know, you can always just sketch what it is you want to capture. I’ve seen the drawings you keep, they’re great.” That elicited a true smile.

“Thanks. But to get them that accurate takes time, you know. If I’m out in nature or wherever working on a drawing, the scene could change in an instant and I’d miss it, still stuck in my own little pocket as time passes me by. Easier to just skip the inhibiting steps.”

“Ah, right, exploring nature right after or before you attend those fancy parties?” Marik rhetorically asked. “Adventure or high class, usually it’s one or the other.” Mackenzie shrugged.

“I don’t think it’s really too much to ask for both every now and again. Variety is the bane of stagnation.” Of that, Marik hoped Mackenzie’s future spouse would be persuadable.

A flock passed overhead. Not a squawk was heard.

From a distance, Marik was able to identify the street sign of Mayweather and then Harvey. With the sun already on its eastward decline, they would be right on time coming back from their “butchery job.” The silent flock began to stir.

Marik felt his stomach rumble. No surprise, he hadn’t eaten since that morning. Their mother would probably have dinner ready before they even got home. The squawking cries above voiced his internal groan. The silent beat of the shadow overhead cut in.

“Hold on,” Marik said, placing his hand on his sister’s shoulder to halt her pace.

She faced him with perplexed caution. Her eyes went to the sky and flock above. The shadowed sight had faded. “What is it?” The tension held her voice, and more.

From all around them, the people passing by on the street, the autos only affordable by higher class denizens and carriages lightly cruising, the children laughing and playing, and the ones enjoying their meals; a rushing stillness had washed over them all. They all could have been rocks along a beach while still water lapped around them. Instead, the wave that came drowned all other noise in its enormity.

His feet were uprooted from the sheer voice of the invisible impact and Marik found his arms reaching out to try and lessen Mackenzie’s own fall. The sharp bluntness of the curb rattled his side and Marik soon found himself staring closely at the cobblestone of the street and his vision was momentarily invaded by blinking dots.

He attempted to rise but felt tiny flecks of hardened rain falling down on his back and the street. The glass from nearby windows had been shattered from that land wave. Marik’s arm reached out to try to cover Mackenzie’s head from the pearly shards while he kept his face low, blinking the spots out of his vision. The side of his face felt a tingle of warmth.

Next to him, Mackenzie stirred, her hands roaming his face and wiping away some of the red that had no doubt stained some of his pure snowy tufts. “Marik…? Marik!”

She was shouting his name now.

Blinking furiously, Marik felt an almost static pressure behind his eyes, fighting for them to come back in focus. And as that haze cleared, Marik was met with her face before his own.

“I’m alright,” he assured her, barely hearing his own voice. The lively silence had birthed chaotic ruckus. Women were yelling for their children, rushing into the streets to snatch them and make sure that they were fine. Men were calling out to friends and families, trying to regain their composure amidst the cries of uncertainty.

All of that was quickly overshadowed by a high low-pitched siren blaring from the eastern district of the town. Marik had never heard that siren sound before, he doubted anyone had, but he knew it was for the severest of emergencies.

Belligerent hollering riled through the air next as any transports occupying the roads were forced to move to the sides as a couple of garrison transports sped past. Much like any autos, they were sparse in quantity; a more recent invention seemingly exclusive to government or prestige. Marik caught sight of the back of the transport, it looked to only be about half-full and some of the soldiers inside didn’t seem too confident about the situation.

That’s when the second wave came.

There was no impact or unseen force this time. A sea of people were running down the streets, a predatory torrent of black plums covered their wake, the distant sound of popping outpaced their feet. Their words were all mixed together in one anguished shout; indistinguishable while separated, but unified in conception. One word was what they all shared, one word that they could all agree upon: “Matanians.”

Mackenzie tried helping Marik back to his feet, but the two of them were jostled when the onrush of frantic bodies rushed past them causing her to stumble and nearly drop him back onto the street. She used her body as cover this time, her arms wrapped around his head as he felt heavy cowered feet kick by his side while his sister continued to try and help him along by moving with the current of bodies.

That was all he could see around him, faces and bodies of people familiar and new all joined together to form a unified body with a divided mind. Evidently, Mackenzie must have spotted something else. She wrapped his arm around her shoulder and directed them to the right of the oncoming crowd.

They stumbled several times, shapes of people tall and short battered against them. Feeling that Mackenzie might lose her footing, Marik moved his own in the direction she had been leading them; his other arm working to help part the continuous onrush. Seeing an opening, Mackenzie jumped the rest of the way through while Marik helped to give them an extra boost of force.

His knees scraped against darkened cold stone while the screams seemed to condense into a joined whisper. With his vision returning, Marik recognized the street as being Mayweather. Mackenzie threw open the gate to the nearest yard and assisted him down to shelter in the shrubbery.

“Are you alright?” she asked once she had caught her breath. Marik nodded, the feeling of liquid warmth returned to him.

“My legs are fine. Just… a little light-headed. Ugh. And a bruised side.” He took notice of her appearance. Her well-kept blond hair was now a mess and her eyes were widened in anticipation. She was trying to even out her breathing and Marik noticed a few stains of red on her long skirt. “What about you? Your legs-?”

“They’re fine,” she answered. “Just a scrape. If you’re okay to-,” a shadow passed overhead and Marik was quick to grab her by the shoulders and practically toss her whole body into the shrubs.

Ducking next to her, Marik hazarded a glance to the sky which was now painted with nauseous smoke. Even among the pooling clouds of grey and black, a dark shape distinguished itself. Thinking it might have been a fleeing bird, Marik quickly realized that this thing was bigger than the entire flock from before.

It flew with perfect malicious grace, the beating of those bat wings obscured by the yelling below. Slowly, it circled above, not even caring about flying into the clouded poison. When the smoke had seemingly engulfed the thing, Marik lost all trace of it. Where had it gone?

“Marik!”

He jolted when he felt Mackenzie’s hand shaking him by the shoulder. The thing in the sky had faded from sight.

“Y-yeah. What is it?”

“Mom,” was all she said. She was probably all alone at home right now with no idea what was happening to them. And if she panicked, she might even try finding them at the butcher shop which was back where the fires were blazing. Marik nodded. They were only a few streets away, they could make it.

They poked their heads out from the bushes and almost threw themselves back down in reflex at the sight of another militia transport speeding down the road on a detour to avoid the unfolding chaos. The vehicle made a hard left onto the main road, trying not to hit any fleeing civilians. Once it found a clearing, it sped off out of sight and toward the sounds of rapid popping.

Fireworks had never sounded quite so loud, even the grand finale would pale. Shots rang out in chaotic orderly tandem.

“Work them back!” a soldier cried out. From what side, Marik didn’t want to know. Another shout of: “South! They’re coming from the south, too!”

South? He and Mackenzie had just returned that way. If they had waited any longer… he couldn’t dwell on that now!

Mackenzie grabbed his arm. “I think it's clear. Let’s go - now!”

Not wasting any time, they kicked the gate open and made a mad dash across the street to the yard parallel. Instead of joining the crowd on the streets, they would run through the neighbor's yards straight back to their own.

Crossing over to the next, Marik heard what he thought to be the barking of a dog. He worried that whoever’s yard this was might own one and could possibly attack them. That thought was squashed when he realized the barking and howling was coming from behind them a few streets back. The sound that followed almost made it appear tame.

A piercing gurgling cry rang out amongst the commotion. A cry so dense that the ocean within the body had welled up to rise out. A howl of victory sang to the sky. The two of them were already crossing over to the yard of the next street, needing no incentive, not even bothering to halt as another militia crew sped along to bisect the traffic.

Their legs trampled across a tomato plant a neighbor had been growing in their yard coating their shoes with gunk and stains. Neither cared. Across from this yard, they could spot the familiar sight of their home. A light from inside illuminated a shape moving around within the lounge. Their mother was still there.

Sprinting the rest of the distance, Mackenzie threw the gate open and the two of them all but barrelled straight through the front door. Their mother gave a jarring gasp at their entrance until she saw who it was.

“Oh, thank god you’re alright!” she rushed over to them to wrap her arms around both of their necks. Part of his tunic seemed to grow a bit wet. She quickly gave them both lasting kisses on their foreheads. Her hand felt where some of his stained hair clung to the side of his face. “Are you-?”

He took her hand in his. “I’m fine, really. But c’mon, they’re not far behind!” The popping had not gotten any quieter outside. There didn’t seem to be any pauses between the deathly sounds anymore.

“I know, I know,” their mother affirmed. “The Western checkpoint, we can exit the town from there.” She hurried into the lounge and started to put various pictures into a suitcase along with some various other mementos.

“Mom, what are you doing?!” Mackenzie grabbed onto her. “This isn’t the time to be packing!”

“I don’t know if we’ll ever return here,” she kept her voice oddly calm, breaking out of her daughter’s hold and going over to their display case to take out a wooden lockbox. “I-I can’t just forget these heirlooms. I can’t…”

A noise that obscured the siren and the various screams filled the dense air. Hundreds of trumpets playing at once, twisted and warped to create a hellish melody.

Joining his sister, Marik grabbed hold of their mother and began dragging her out of the house. They had barely made it beyond the front gate when they heard the bellow again. This time, they had an unobstructed view.

It stood about three stories tall on all four limbs, the rear being shorter and resembling miniature trees while the front was longer and more spindly and ending in a paw of three-curved claws. Illuminated by the raging fire behind it, Marik figured the thick, leathery hide must have been a mottled brown and bluish hue. The head resembled a sentient boulder with small crevices for eyes on either side. The most striking feature were the three tusks protruding from the side and center of the skull.

Ogromm. A son of the DON.

They were among the largest species of Wybriks and largely kept to themselves in nature, never really straying close to human settlements. They came in various shapes and sizes and were usually rather shy and dumb. With the size that they had it didn’t matter if they were docile or not, the damage caused by them could be devastating.

The tri-tusked Ogromm shook its head and with another deafening bellow uprooted a portion of a neighboring street sending chunks of cobblestone to rain down on the houses. When it moved its spindly front limbs to turn, Marik was able to see what seemed to be a large platform saddle of sorts fastened to the beast’s back. There were people up there.

It was hard to hear as the Ogromm bellowed again, but the very distinct sounds of popping were coming from that saddle. The soldiers up there were shooting down at the defending militia.

“Move! Move!” Mackenzie tugged at his sleeve. He went to go and drag their mother along, but the sight of the imminent threat seemed to have lit the fire inside of her. Together, they ran.

They saw far fewer people on the main road now than before. Marik wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He did know that he dared not look back. With every step that the Ogromm took, the ground shook in response. Several times he had almost lost his pace from the tremors that ensued.

Rapid sounds of guns firing off flared behind them. The behemoth let out another thundering call and a shockwave tore through the ground as its forelimbs impacted. This time, all three of them were knocked to the ground.

The twins were quick to pull themselves back to their feet, but their mother seemed to have landed uncomfortably on her hand, clutching her last two digits. They helped her to her feet and she went to go and pick up her fallen case.

“Mom, no!” Mackenzie shouted as the Ogromm made a turn and began lumbering down the street. It’s tusks digging up and tossing homes aside. Together, they managed to drag her along, but their mother was able to at least grab her lockbox, clutching it close to her side while trying to keep pace with her twins.

They had to be getting close to the edge of the town, they had to be. Marik knew these streets and sights by memory. Just a few more and they'd be at the emergency shelter. That thought helped to ease the acidic burn in his side. The cry from the advancing Ogromm struck their hearts and Marik saw shadows fall over them.

Houses. Bits and chunks of houses were soon to fall down upon them. The Ogromm had wildly thrown them about. He wanted to close his eyes and wait for it to be over, not realizing that his mother had shoved the two of them forward. The box fell from her hands.

Once again, Marik’s head collided with an unforgiving stone and his vision began to blur. The back of his head was wet and a ringing filled his ears to the brim. He thought he felt Mackenzie’s hand try and lift him up, but his body would not respond to her ushering. Through his blurred vision, he sought his mother’s form. There was just… a blank.

Get up, he thought. The sky was so dark above him. Get up, he chanted to himself.

He had to get up. He had to make it out. To die in a place like this, he couldn’t do that. He had to. He just has to get up. Get up, reach up. Take the hand that was being extended to him. His mother’s hand? Mackenzie’s hand? It didn’t matter.

He reached out.

There was nothing.

His body was being shaken, the static in his ears allowing for deaf calls to discern themselves as his name. His eyes closed without understanding a thing.