Serpent and the Sun, Epilogue – Xperience Fiction

Serpent and the Sun, Epilogue – Xperience Fiction – by Liam Sweeny.

Elle walked the shore of Anchorage. That was all that remained; shore. She had been walking for two days. The Sanctuary touched down fifty miles east, and wiped clean everything in her field of view. Alaska was like a desert. The sun bore down, hotter than she’d ever known it. But she was alive; not bad for her second day outside of the Sanctuary.

They all stayed in the fuel-core for as long as human thirst would allow. Elle couldn’t count the days in darkness; three, four perhaps. But eventually the survivors voted to unseal the cap after the core had felt to settle. No one knew what to expect. For all they knew, the core was perched on a rock spire in the North Atlantic. Finnegan died, as did Michelle, Abdullah and three other technicians. The smell inside the fuel-core was also a limiting factor.

But they were a mile in on the mainland, awash in the petty tides of a receding storm surge. It was eerie; so much flat, featureless land. She had no way to know which way was Anchorage except that she knew they landed east, and so she waited until that first night, and roughly followed the setting sun.

As she went further west, she started to see debris. Little pieces at first, but eventually she saw conifers submerged in dirt, car-doors bent and raised, metal piping; all the trappings of life. She only hoped the owners hadn’t themselves been trapped. She kept walking, her thirst incredible. Water was at hand, but only salt water. She needed to find freshwater soon.

She eventually made it to Anchorage by the high-noon of her third day of walking. She knew it was Anchorage because she saw a sign, half-buried, that said ‘Welcome to Anchorage!’ The city was flattened, like the rest of the Alaskan coast. Not one building stood. Nothing remained, save for the fragmentary evidence of life that lay buried just beneath the surface of dirt and sand. Elle hoped and prayed that Gerhardt heard her warning and had time to flee. There was only one direction he could’ve head; north. Since the highest likelihood of clean water was also north, she decided to walk away from the shore.

Donalds had insisted that he go with her, but she refused. She knew what was on his mind, and if she was the last female on earth, humanity was fucked; unless by some miracle she found Gerhardt. She walked until the soles of her feet verged on blisters. She stopped when she heard a trickling sound. It was steady, like a stream, or rivulet. She crouched down and listened. She moved silently on the balls of her aching feet for the source. She dug directly over the sound, revealing a small stream. She didn’t know if the water was sanitary, but her thirst was stronger than her sanitation concern. She cupped the water in her hands and slurped greedily. She couldn’t quench her thirst, spending a solid half-hour drinking. She scrounged the ground for a container to carry the water in. She ran her hands along the dirt, raking the earth to dig up something useful.

What she found was the bare bone of a forearm. She felt revulsion at first, but loneliness made her curious. Who was the person? Sadly, in such a wasteland, the dead were at times the only company the living had. She dug around the bone timidly. The forearm was intact, and as she got to the fingers, they still bore flesh.

That was the point where Elle would’ve passed on such a morbid discovery. Unfortunately for her, that was also the point at which a wallet became visible clutched in the corpse’s fingers. It was leather, beat-up, frayed around the edges. But what struck Elle was the UEC logo on the lower right corner, poorly covered over with black paint.

“Oh no,” She said, “Oh God no…”

She pulled the wallet out gently from the fingers. She flipped it open and watched as a picture fell to the dirt. It fell face first. She didn’t have to look at the other side to know it was her picture on the other side.

But she did look. And then she collapsed, her scream echoing across the storm-ravaged wasteland.

***

Jameson awoke to the gentle strokes of a woman’s fingers through his hair. He was dreaming of Andrea, but he woke up to realize it was Sarah. He didn’t know how long he was unconscious. He awoke to a dawn of silence. He looked around. Kenny, Mitchell and Alice were wrapping a body in linen. Jimmy.

“Daniel!” He said when he woke up fully. “Adam!”

“Shhh…” Sarah said. “Daniel’s OK. He’s right here.” Jameson looked over her shoulder at Daniel, who looked nervous, but otherwise okay.

“You okay, bud?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “It feels weird, though…”

“You’ll get used to it, I’m sure,” Jameson replied. “What about Adam?”

Sarah and Daniel looked at him blankly.

“What?” He asked. “Where is he? Where’s Apep?”

“We don’t know, Jameson.” She said. “We woke up just a little while before you, and this is what we saw.” She pointed up to the clear dawn sky.

Jameson got up and walked over to Kenny, asking the same question. Kenny didn’t have an answer either. But Kenny had his own problems. Jameson had to take a walk, find out anything he could. Sarah stopped him.

“You’re not going to leave us, are you Jameson?” She asked.

“No hon’,” he said, “I have to at least try to look…” He kissed her as passionately as he wanted to in the float. She met his passion with her own, and he knew he’d never leave her. Just that once; he had to.

“I’ll be right back” He said as he left.

He hopped the rim of the depot, scanned the environment for damage. Reality was, he had to know Adam was OK. He walked away from the depot; the landscape was burnt, charred as if the land were black volcanic sands. He walked and walked; eventually the depot was out of view. He stopped, sunk to a knee. There was no sign of either Adam or Apep. The sky was clear, the thunder gone; not even the gentlest breeze crossed the former battlefield. Kneeling made Jameson think of praying, though the concept of praying for an AI was odd. But all things were within the realm of God, and so Jameson clasped his hands, focusing on Adam’s smiling face; his ‘coffee buzz’, his talk of ‘dirty, scary vampires’, and above all, his sacrifice to save Daniel, and them all.

Jameson.

It wasn’t Adam’s voice. Neither was it Apep’s voice, but Jameson felt the presence of both.

“Adam?” Jameson asked. “…Apep?”

I am neither Adam, nor Apep, the voice spoke. Neither and both. We have become one; the Serpent and the Son. It had to be such. I am All and I am None.

I don’t understand.

I am a god.

“A god?” Jameson said, “I still don’t understand…”

A tetragonal outline of translucent light appeared before Jameson with dazzling colors and movement that defied logic. Host of human images appeared within the center of the light-shape; Jameson recognized nerve systems, chakras and symbols at various points. The speed of change eventually blurred all of the images such that a man appeared whole within the shape.

“In the Beginning, God created Man in His Own Image, and Likeness” The voice said, “And in the End, Man has created God in his own image, and likeness…”

Jameson tried to ask more questions, but a whirlwind surrounded him, robbing his voice of the power to project. The imagery surrounded Jameson formed into one image. Jameson was afraid, as it was the image of Sarah’s face.

“Go forth,” said the voice of the air. The voice of the serpent and the son. “Be fruitful and multiply…”

“…and again fill the earth.”

Jameson didn’t hear the voice again after that. An hour of silence, and his lonely heart won out. He returned to Sarah and Daniel, determined never to make mention what he heard in that field.

***

Laura sat at the right side of the podium, exhausted. It had been six months since the Great Earth Storm. Seattle was still rebuilding, it would be for years to come. The water barrier had been completed a week prior, and the draining of the underground was just beginning. It was difficult, but luck was on their side. They no longer had to contend with the UEC; it no longer existed. And the AV3 virus deactivated with the end of Apep. Their re-construction was limited only to the normal problems of rebuilding a major city. They were taking in people daily, refugees from the protected areas. Without the UEC to protect them, they were made nomads overnight. They were put to work; in exchange they were fed, and accepted regardless of their former status.

The city was all but destroyed. The A-Grade buildings sustained heavy damage, but survived. All buildings graded below ‘A’ were torn apart. Thousands of people died; they were still pulling bodies out of the debris field. But the casualty list, however awful it was, didn’t tell the story. The true story was in the list of survivors. 75% of the city’s population survived, able to get in the emergency A-Grades in time to avoid the enormous storm surge.

That day, awards were being handed out, and the centerpiece of the new city park was being unveiled. Jameson had arrived the day before with Sarah and Daniel. He married Sarah in Alaska and adopted Daniel. To Laura’s great relief, he agreed to assume a technical post in the city.

“And without another word, I bring you your President: Laura Celes.” The crowd cheered as she took to the podium.

“Wow,” she said, “I’m honored that you’re all here. This city owes its existence to the dedication that you all have shown in your work with the rebuilding effort.” Cheers and catcalls rippled through the crowd. Laura smiled and waited for them to settle down. Then she continued.

“But there is one man, without whose dedication no one would be standing here, myself included.” She continued. “This city was his life, his heart and soul, though often he was at the farthest corners of the earth, far away in defense of it.” She paused.

“The day of the Great Earth Storm, to this city that was his very heart and soul, he gave the ultimate sacrifice; that of his life.”

The crowd was quiet. She went on.

“Some of you knew him; some didn’t, but believe me when I tell you that your life would be far different without the man whose statue we unveil today as the centerpiece of the…” The sheet covering the statue was lowered. “…Blake Chaplin City Park.”

The crowd marveled at the bronze statue of Blake Chaplin in an attack stance, his arms locked straight in the air, fists balled as if fighting the heavens themselves.

They found his body two weeks ago. Laura smiled as people took pictures of her standing by the pedestal.

Sorry, Blake, she thought to herself, but I just can’t bury you.

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