The following piece is a complete story from 2016 as part of my Bachelor of Writing. It comes from the class entitled Aliens, Dragons, Monsters, Me: Writing Genre and it is one of the highest graded (and best received) pieces I ever wrote.
It is based on a world made up for the class itself and the inspiration came from me wanting to do something different to my usual shtick. In the piece, I explore the morality and repetitiveness involved in writing stories. I base a lot of what happens on the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and use that to drive the main drama of the plot.
A lot is intentionally left out of the story but I find it serves the story well. I hope you enjoy.
This is Aftermath.
Part 1: The Journey
The wind howls against our verti-plane, the rotors creaking and straining as we near our destination. General Vega only gave us a very brief overview of our mission as we were leaving. Half an hour later, the familiar blaring of the tripods sang out around us. They call out in an attempt to lure us off our course. Our pilot knows to ignore them, having made this journey many times prior. I do not think he ever anticipated to land on Storm Island at all in his lifetime, however. Sitting at the rear of the cabin with a sombre look upon his face is Alpha. Deep stress line cross his forehead, bushy eyebrows grey at the tips. I swear he grew them for the express purpose of looking homeless outside of the uniform we all wear.
“Hold yer ‘eads boys,” Flight Captain Kappa says through the grainy headset.
With that, I grip the bar above my head as turbulence violently begins to rock our vehicle. Several alarms ring out, and I hear the engines straining to keep us level. I trust in Kappa, as he knows everything there is to know about this model of air vehicle. I do still hold a high degree of fear deep down in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I shouldn’t have had so much to eat before we left. I sneak a glance out the window, though all I can see is a perpetual grey cloud. I feel us beginning to descend, the familiar sound of the engines rotating into VTOL mode. The verti-plane shudders as the fog becomes denser while a foul odour seeps into the interior cabin.
Without so much as a word, the five of us lock our helmets into our suits, pressurising them and allowing us to breathe without fear of radiation. I turn my helmet display on, watching the binary scroll past. 01001100 01101111 01100001 01100100 01101001 01101110 01100111. That is all there is, a sickly vomit colouration to the text. After a brief few moments, my vital sign meter springs into life. Heartrate: 103BPM. 1.3 breaths per second. The flashing warning tells me I need to regulate my breathing better, and I feel a sharp prick in my left wrist. A cold liquid rushes into my veins, and I watch my vital signs return to a normal rhythm. A visual on the right side of my vision informs me that in my gauss rifle I have thirteen rounds, with a reserve of sixty-five. The military thought of nearly everything in designing and creating these suits, though the helmet itself does not have a clear visor, and so I must rely on a camera feed to navigate the world outside.
My thoughts are interrupted by the verti-plane landing hard on the ground, a dull thud echoing around me. A radiation counter turns on next to my vitals. 70mSv of radiation already flows around my body. I look to Alpha, relieved he cannot see the worried look on my face right now. I am unsure of what the consequences might be should anyone discover my secret. I find my fortunate enough to know the right people to help me keep my true self a secret. However, they warned me not to expose myself to too much radiation, for they do not know what the effects might be.
“Echo. Do you copy?” I hear the booming voice of Alpha in my headset.
“Repeat, Sir.”
“Our orders are simple. Find the source of this damn radiation and be rid of it. You’re the point man, copy?”
“Sir, yes Sir,” I stand and move to the side door. I do not know what lies outside, so I take a deep breath which causes an alarm to flash on my vitals again, warning me not to inhale too much oxygen. That is the bad thing about this armour; the capacity of them barely allows more than a few hours’ worth of supplies. I glance at my Sievert monitor again. 73mSv without setting foot outside the verti-plane. I pause before I open the door, grabbing my gauss rifle and powering it up. It lights up and begin to hum, adding more information to my digital display. I open the door with a grunt, and step outside.
The fog almost obscures our entire vision, and not even the plasma headlamp offers much penetration through the cloud. I take each step carefully, making sure solid ground is beneath me before I move forward. Progress is slow, but I guess command expected that, given how little we actually know of the terrain. The only comfort I have is in the vibrations my gauss rifle provides. I hold my finger on the safety trigger. This particular model of gauss weapon is a dual-trigger device that is designed to prevent friendly fire.
“Echo. Heard anything?” Alpha asks.
I listen carefully for any sounds, failing to hear anything out of the ordinary. I report back to Alpha as such, hearing only a disgruntled groan from him. I continue leading the column of five blindly along a narrow path. My foot slips and splashes into a burning pool of water. I give a muffled cry, barely staying on my feet. My vital counters go crazy, and what feels like a vice tightens around my leg.
“Get it off!” I yell.
Delta pins me down and I see his helmet staring down at me. Even though I cannot see it, I can tell he is angry. The pain in my leg continues to increase, now pinching tight. I howl out in pain. My vital counter beeps rapidly.
Everything turns black.
Part 2: ????
When I come to, the fog is gone but I see none of my comrades around. I sit up, noticing that I am wearing my civilian clothes. I run a finger along the woven silk, confused as to where I am. It is only now I can see my surrounds. I find myself in a small room, furnished by a single bed and a lone window letting in the morning rays of light. Everything is made of wood, giving a rustic vibe. I put both my feet on the floor, a tingle shooting up my right leg. I look down at it, seeing no signs of injury. I wonder how long I have been out of the loop for.
“Hello?” I call out.
“Edward,” a shrill voice carries up to the bedroom. “Thank the Lord you’ve finally woken.”
Footsteps close in on my room, and before I can react, a plump old lady barges in. I give a confused look, noticing the drab overcoat and shirt she is wearing. She spoons some foul oatmeal into a bowl, pushing it under my nose. I retch and recoil in horror at the smell of it. The old bat seems offended, but as it stands, I am far from caring.
“Where am I?” I stand up, realising I tower over her.
“Why, this is Stormgate, Edward. Capital of our illustrious, God-given Storm Island. You’d do well to remember this is all His work.” Her voice is condescending and it appears she may hit me without so much as a word of warning.
A million thoughts race across the neural pathways in my brain, but one thing stands out to me: this is Storm Island. It looks different to what I know. I move to the window, gazing outside at sweeping green hills and pristine blue rivers. People seem busy and unconcerned with life as they go about their daily routines.
“What the fuck?”
A sharp smack hits my back. I turn to see the old lady scowling at me with a leather strap in her hand. I give her a look of disdain, bowling her over as I rush outside. The fresh air fills my lungs with the scent of many fresh flowers. My brow furrows and I start running. I do not know where I am running. I pass a large number of people as I go through the city with a bewildered look.
“I got fresh cobbler.”
“Fish fished today! Git em while they last!”
“Edward! How bout some ale?”
I ignore the merchants. My breathing becomes laboured as I climb a steep hill. The tingle in my right leg becomes worse the longer I move. I stand at the hilltop, taking in all my surroundings with awe and confusion. I flop down into a bench to rest and a deafening roar accompanies a blinding light.
Everything turns white.
Part 3: The Island
A crack of thunder jolts me awake, the rain heavy on my visor. Delta wraps an arm around me and hoists me to my feet. I am drenched in sweat, the vital signs in my visor going insane. Heartrate exceeding 200. Four breaths per second. 123mSv of radiation. I sigh and do my best to slow my breathing and regain my senses. I cry out in pain as I try to put weight on my right leg. I lean on Delta.
“Echo. What happened? Report,” Alpha barks.
“Sir, I do not know, Sir.”
“Can he walk, Delta?”
Delta shakes his head and I swear I hear a prolonged huff come from him. Alpha slams into my shoulder as he walks past.
“We keep moving, no matter what. On me, move out!”
Delta nearly carries me as we now start following Alpha. I cannot see my leg, so I do not know what is going on, but I bite my tongue in an attempt to block out the pain. An alert chimes up on my helmet display, notifying me of the corrosive rain now falling from the sky. My gauss rifle still hums in my hand. Out of the corner of my eyes, I catch a glimpse of something dark moving in the fog to my left.
“Sir, something at nine-o-clock!”
The squad aim their weapons, lasers and flashlights scanning the fog for signs of anything. My breaths fog up the inside of my helmet momentarily. Bravo yells and fires six rounds into something that leaps from the fog, each shot cracking from the barrel of his assault rifle. The mysterious creature splashes into the water, dropping to the bottom. A deathly silence follows.
“Any more contacts?”
“Bingo contacts, Sir,” Delta calls out.
“There’s a clearing ahead. We’ll take a break there. Move out,” Alpha orders.
The walk to the clearing takes a few moments, though calling it a clearing is a stretch, given that the fog seems to be denser. Delta helps me sit down on the foot of a broken bench. My leg is still in excruciating pain, though it is impossible to see what is wrong without taking my armour off. The medical system in my armour tries to fix the issue afflicting my leg, but anything it does only causes more pain to shoot through my leg. My vital signs fluctuate rapidly. The only constant I see is my radiation level ticking up slowly.
I glimpse another shadow in the fog. It seems familiar, though exactly what it is escapes me. The blood-vessels in my eyes pulsate with each fierce pulse of the ventricles in my heart. My vision stains a dull red colour. I shake my head in an attempt to compose myself. Everything around me goes blurry. I labour with my breathing, trying to ignore the pain now shooting up my leg.
“Echo. Do you copy?” Alpha’s voice is distorted. My head spins.
“Repeat, Sir,” I slur.
Alpha grabs my armour and yanks me up, my head lolling around as I barely pay attention to the world around me. I see Alpha’s lips move, though no sound comes out. The world slowly drains of all colour and sound. My heartbeat is the only thing I hear as another shroud of blackness draws over me.
Part 4: Darkness
I crawl to my feet, coughing through the smoke. The familiar taste of metal touches my tongue. The inferno blazing through the town stains the air with a sickly orange hue. Denizens run around in a mad panic. Many are without clothes and the occasional one is aflame. I search for the source of all this chaos, though I find nothing, to my chagrin. I take a step forward, my right leg collapsing. I yell out in pain. No one comes to my aid, though I expected as much. I do hear what sounds like a faint voice.
“Help,” I call out.
“Chzzzzz… you hear me Echo?” a strange voice calls out.
“Who’s there?”
I get no response. The world turns a strange colour, and I make out weird figures in a fog that seemingly comes from out of nowhere. I take a step toward the figures, only for one to raise an odd-looking weapon. Flashes of light erupt from the fog and as badly as I want to drop to the ground, I find myself unable to. Redness stains my eyes and my focus wanes a little. Closing my eyes tight, I tell myself this is all a nightmare. A loud, ricocheting crack snaps me back into the reality around me. I open my eyes, seeing one of the five figures sitting on the ground, firing his weapon on what I assume to be his friends.
“Echo, cease fire!”
“We must… protect the secrets,” I say, discharging another gauss shot.
Delta cries out in pain, clutching his shoulder as a shot from my rifle rips through flesh and bone and armour as though it is soft butter.
“Echo, stand down! That’s an order!” Alpha barks.
I aim at him, finger resting on the trigger. Before I can fire, one of the shadows hits him and knock him into the water. Alpha’s screams are horrifying. My breaths come heavier. The vital counter informs me I have 5.5 Sieverts of radiation in my suit and that number is climbing rapidly. I muster the strength to stand, the pain in my leg now burning all around my body.
“What the hell?” Bravo yells, discharging a few rounds at me. I don’t feel them and a wicked smile crosses my lips. My claw impales Bravo, lifting him over my head. He coughs up blood and I laugh. Charlie’s footfalls ring in my ear. I snap my head to him, firing a gauss shot through his left knee. The shattered bones instantly give out on Charlie and he falls to the ground. I turn my focus back to Bravo.
“What are you?”
“We are the fury of Storm Island. Your weapon destroyed our city. Your bomb destroyed our lives. Now we take your lives and all those who dare disturb our hunting grounds,” I say.
“You’re a monster.”
Bravo spits at me. I only growl and flare out my claw, ripping him apart from the inside. A thousand voices echo in my head, every one of them full of anger. The armour around my limbs falls off as my true self grows. I plod to Charlie who vainly unleashes a breath of flame from his flamethrower at me. I keep moving through the burning, knowing this pain is nothing compared to what the voices in my head suffered. I lift Charlie up by his chin. Shattering the faceplate of his helmet, I watch as he begins struggling for breath. I hold him so his eyes are close to mine. His spine snaps easily in my grasp. I drop Charlie’s limp body on the ground.
I see the outline of the verti-plane in the fog and smile. After seventy-one years, our vengeance is at hand.
END
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Fenrir's Lair 