Elijah's Chariot P2

“I don’t understand. What are you saving us from?” Brycen‘s sister Angie was trembling, whether from the cool of the early morning or their father’s lifeless corpse, he couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry; I’m not trying to scare you, little pup. Come here.” Arms outstretched, Brycen clung as best as he could to the room’s shadows. Angie swiftly stepped into his arms and cried softly.

“There, there big girl. It’s okay.” Brycen patted her head with one hand and held her close with the other. Angie was normally a very brave girl, but she knew something was wrong instinctively. She sobbed lightly, thankful for her brother’s warming arms and calming presence.

She was settling herself when she felt the first warm drips land on her cheeks. She stopped her crying and opened her eyes, feeling the same wet warmth on her neck with every pat from her brother’s hand. She pulled back slightly, trying to get a better view, when she noticed them.

There were three things, three separate sensations that sprang up from the waning dark: the sight of her father’s bleeding neck, the scent of iron on her brother’s clothes, and the painful spearing to her spine. She screamed for what felt like an hour, but only amounted to two seconds.

Her consciousness wrestled and fought with ferocity as Brycen began the download to his ES-Port, too slow to cover her mouth before she let out that shrill cry.

Their mother woke with a start.

“Angie, what’s going on? What’s wrong sweetie?” Madeline Ford turned up from her bed towards Brycen, seeing him holding his sister in the little moonlight the crept through the window blinds.

“Is she alright?” Brycen felt completely powerless, blindsided by the sudden change in his plans. He noticed the ES-Port take control of his mind, calculating faster than Brycen ever could alone. He took a back seat as the device took the lead.

“She just had a bad dream, Mom. She’s okay.” The idea of something else speaking for him using his own voice made Brycen question the entire decision to implant it, but he was still outside of control. He felt his mother get out of bed to turn on the light. In the blink of an eye, the ES-Port spoke again, this time perfectly mimicking his sister.

“Please don’t turn the light on Mommy, it’ll hurt my eyes.” She stopped, fingers brushing the switch, and turned to face her children. Madeline‘s eyes were starting to adjust when she heard her daughter’s voice again.

“Mommy, could I have some honey tea? Your tea always makes me feel better.”

This was one of those magical nights to Madeline. Her son was taking care of his little sister, the night was peaceful (mostly) and her daughter still wanted her mommy’s help. How could she say no?

Other than the abrupt wake-up, this would be a moment she would look back to, years from now, and know that she had done something right. That was what she believed in the moment, but it would not last; and she would look back at this moment as the start of everything going to shit. But now, with her children holding each other, Madeline smiled and said lovingly, “Of course sweet pea. I’ll be right back.”

Despite both the quick save and his convictions that this was the only way, Brycen couldn’t help but feel the seeds of doubt trying to take root.

This isn’t going to work, he thought, scrambling to place his sister’s body back into her bed. The walls of their building weren’t soundproof by any means. If the others didn’t wake to Angie‘s cry, then his mother making tea in the kitchen may wake them.

His mother’s tea wasn’t famous or anything, but she could usually count on a few tired souls wandering in the kitchen whenever she made it. Again, Brycen leaned on the ES-Port’s computation skills to find another way to complete his goal. He looked through the ES-Port settings as they collectively formulated a plan.

It seems like the silent attempt has run its course, he reasoned. Perhaps I just need to reset the board. The calculating cold was still a bit of a shock, but one Brycen was getting used to. There was something in the back of his mind that felt like a rush for having this tech at his disposal, an addictive confidence he had never felt before now. The longer he has lived with this port, the more he’s become convinced that this was supposed to happen.

The Architects, in all their divine wisdom, were using him to enact their will and give him a taste of the sinful to bolster his righteous resolve. He was the only one willing to debase himself like this so The Ecclesia could survive.

After this entire ordeal was over, Brycen would renounce this abomination, as wonderful as it feels in his every fiber, and take on The Penance Road. He would probably be the first in the new world, wherever they ended up.

The thought was encouraging as nanites played his pleasure center like an instrument and modified his neurons. Brycen looked back at the mirror by his bed and made a series of blinks and eye rolls, deactivating healing protocols and cracked his neck.

He relayed a command gleefully, unsure if it was his feelings or the influence of the ES-Port: capture the remaining consciousnesses, by any means necessary.

***********

It took several minutes, but Brycen‘s mother returned to the room and stepped around slowly, now more accustomed to the lights of the kitchen.

“I’ve got that tea, sweetie” she whispered, stopping at the side of her daughter’s bed.

“You’ll have to sit up to drink this, okay?” She leaned over the bed, struggling to adjust her eyes to see where her daughter was.

Whether it was luck, karma, or sheer coincidence, it will never be known. It is unclear if it was his mother’s bending down further when Angie didn’t respond or the warmth of blood felt at the ends of her toes. Perhaps’ Brycen‘s eyes were thrown by her return from the kitchen. All that he knew was, as he reached with the mental encoder behind her, Brycen missed the base of her spine and instead gouged the back of her head.

Blood and shards of bone spread in a thin arc as she fell to her knees and screamed. She instinctively pressed at the wound with one hand and flailed blindly with the other, desperate to save herself from her unseen assailant.

Light flooded into her eyes as her pupils dilated and adrenaline started pounding. She wouldn’t feel her forearm break until a moment later, after kicking a bat-toting silhouette into her son’s mirror. The sound of shattered glass slowed to a shower of rain as the pain made its way into her brain and she howled in agony. Gathering her shaking legs underneath her, Madeline shuffled painfully towards her husband’s bed all the while screaming,

“Help! Grant, anybody! PLEASE!” She only managed a few steps before being knocked to the ground by a blow to her back. All she could think to do was to keep kicking and screaming, to put distance between her and her attacker until either her husband or another person would come to save her.

Another blow to her head stopped the kicking, and a sharp tearing at her throat stopped her screams. She was turned over to her side enough, mouth agape and gurgling blood, to see two things: the vacant expression of her husband, already dead, and her son burying deep a shard of glass into her throat.

“It will all be over soon Mother,” whispered Brycen. “You’ll be thanking be before you know it.” She felt the world grow cold and heavy as she started slipping into the void. The last thing she heard before the end was her son’s voice, harmonizing with a crash at the window, as he loudly called her name and for help. Well, it was the last thing before this end.

****************

Richt Overlan heard screams and gathered several men to respond. They barreled through the Ford family‘s door and turned on the light. The shuffle of bodies tore into the room, scanning the space with bats and a mag-rail pistol. They were met with a grisly sight; blood spattered throughout the space with Brycen at its center, cradling his mother’s broken body. Richt knelt down and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“It’s okay son, we’ve got ya. Breathe slowly.” Brycen was trembling and hyperventilating, understandable given the state of things in the room. Richt patted Brycen‘s shoulder a couple of times and said,

“Hey bud, look at me. It’s Mr. O. You’re safe now.” Richt looked the boy over as he spoke, noticing several cuts all over his body.

“Bronson, I need the trauma kit in here!” Richt looked around the room to the other men and tried as discreetly as possible to gesture towards the father and daughter. When they shook their heads in response, Richt sighed to himself and checked the mother for a pulse. When he felt nothing, Richt pushed a wave of sorrow and anger deep into his stomach.

He had known the Ford family his whole life. Engulfed with empathy, he thought back to years past when Brycen and his own son Dylan would play around the laser harvesters and sneak ripened fruit from the baskets. He and Brycen's father, Grant, would take turns servicing the auto seeders so the boys had someone to pitch baseballs to them. He couldn’t imagine what this must all be like for the boy.

Richt started hearing the whispers, starting low and then getting more breathy and pained.

“……killed them…….he………he killed……..kill…….he…….” Richt leaned in closer.

“Hey Brycen, breathe with me, okay? Breathe in…..and out….” Richt modeled slow, steady breaths for him and they sat there for a couple minutes as the other men finished investigating the scene. Finally, after the boy’s breathing became more regulated, pulled Brycen to the side and debriefing him.

“What happened in here”, asked Richt; hoping that he could get answers while simultaneously having the others cover the bodies. No sense in keeping the kid in this mess longer than he needed to be. Brycen breathed in deeply, and began recounting.

“I woke up when I heard my sister scream. She had a bad dream and I went to console her.” Brycen dipped his shoulders and wiped tears mixed with blood from his face.

“Mom went to make her some tea and I went back to sleep after Angie said she was okay. I woke up again when I heard my mom screaming. There was a guy in here, attacking her.” Upon saying that, Brycen was noticeably upset, bunching his hands into fists at his sides.

“I grabbed my bat and tried to help, but I wasn’t strong enough. He cut me with a knife or something and threw me into the mirror! I must have blacked out for a minute because, when I came to, he was jumping through the window and my mom was….” The boy started crying again, lifting his forearm to catch the tears.

“I’ve got you, Brycen.” The trauma kit arrived afterwards and Richt went right to work. He opened the zippered case and retrieved the triage scanner; A rectangular prism with a hand sling affixed to the right side. He powered it on and passed over each part of Brycen‘s body with blue-green pulses. After an audible click, the device indicated the assortment of injuries in order of their severity. A monotonous voice emanated from the prism, saying,

“….multiple lacerations, two bruised ribs, embedded glass shards and particles located as indicated on…..” Richt grabbed a gray cylinder the size of a soda can from the kit and broke open its hermetic seal. Turning it over, he poured a fine silver powder over Brycen‘s wounds. The item was a sealant for open wounds with a weaker variety of nanites embedded within. They assisted the healing process.

“This may sting a little”, said Richt as he finished his pouring. The boy winced as the sealant began its work, and the nanites purged the glass from his body. Richt unfolded a thermal blanket from the trauma kit and carefully wrapped Brycen. He escorted him out of the room and towards the common area as the others began to cordon off the room.

As they cleared a partition wall, Danica Eaton, Brycen's fiancée, shot up from the couch. She shouted the boy’s name and embraced him. Brycen winced again, but didn’t make a fuss about it as the girl cried into his neck and said something that Richt couldn’t hear. Danica‘s parents were right behind, joining in the embrace.

Richt stood there for a time, maintaining his distance so as to not ruin the moment. He then, seeing that Brycen was safe, turned back towards the room. The other men had gathered in a semi-circle with Archon Sonot at the center, tearfully presiding over the deceased. Richt slid into an opening and bowed his head. He looked up as Archon Sonot continued, but he couldn't process the words. Like Brycen before him, Richt clenched his fists at his sides. Grinding his teeth, He swore to himself that he would catch the person responsible for this tragedy. By The Architects themselves, he would make them pay.

********************

Brycen was in and out of sleep as Danica laid beside him and nestled into his left shoulder. After everything that had happened, she had refused to leave his side and requested special dispensation from one of the Archons living in their compound to let Brycen stay with her. Her parents supported the idea as well, seeing as the pair were scheduled to be married in three months.

Despite his convictions, Brycen was glad to be with her as he felt the crushing weight of his actions without the ES-Port dulling his emotions. He began going over a checklist in his head, careful not to wake his fiancée. Brycen turned to Danica and lightly kissed her forehead, satisfied with the little smile and nuzzle that followed.

His family had been secured, barring some complications. All that was left was Danica and her parents, and the three Archons. The last check on his list was procuring some discarded ES-Port connectors from the computers or farm machines. The Ecclesia despises modifications, but could not avoid the related accessories that came with each shipment of supplies required for them to function. They disposed of the parts by either recycling them or reselling the items, should they be new enough to warrant interest.

Brycen knew that, with luck, the parts would be housed in a maintenance shed until they had a sufficient supply to justify traveling to a recycling center. With the ES-Port's help, he would wire into one of the terminals across the compound and boost its signal. From there, it would be a simple matter of backing up the collected data onto the designated server for Elijah's Chariot and riding out the impending destruction.

As he finished his mental checklist, he could feel his family’s consciousnesses pressing against their confines. Brycen‘s head started to swim and he developed a headache behind his right eye. He focused on Danica‘s shallow breaths from sleep until the pain abated.

There was a pressure then, an urge to download the rest of them while they were close; they were so close now. He forced himself to wait, recognizing that he would be indicted if he survived two events in one night.

Besides, he selfishly wanted Danica with him for as long as possible before the end. If that last symptom was any indication, he could use every bit of support he could muster.

She will understand in the end, Brycen thought to himself while trying to get to sleep. She may not have the fortitude to do this herself, but she’ll understand when it’s all over. It is all for their future and the future of The Ecclesia; and for that, Brycen was willing to do anything.