Children of Terra

~Across the pond~ ~Away in a plane~ ~Sitting alone~ ~Vykan, murderer~       Sleep was purely a mental thing for a deathless one.  Chemical reactions did not happen in a soulless, at least the kind amenable to life.  A zombie?  Sure.  Not the Stygian.  The Stygian chose to sleep once it was clear he was to keep to himself during the flight.  With Pruflas no longer holding back, pursuit craft were shut down -- in a literal sense -- which even bothered to try.  The gentle turbulence of the plane rocked Vykan to sleep, along the steady hum and thrum of the turbines rear.  He let himself drift to the moonlit sea below and next he knew, was the rousing.        "Up and at 'em.  You awake?  Here's the next step: We're switching off, using your cloaking and bailing out of the plane.  Let 'em follow the craft with that autopilot."  Pruflas was flicking switches in the pilot seat.        Shaking awake, Vykan leaned forward, rolling his stiff neck.  "Okay, this stuff's in the way.  Throw it in the -- whatever you call it."  Sounds of leather unfastening accompanied the disarmament of all the Deagles, Vykan handing them to the disappearing Pruflas.  Then the bulky armor of the Judges along the batch.  A thought occurred to Vykan now that he was down to an undershirt and mesh pants.  You know, we should hoard stuff.  Does it seem like there's room?        It was a calm, sable ocean as far as Pruflas could perceive.  Plenty.  Using the storage capabilities . . . wish I had come up with that sooner.        Scooting up to the pilot seat, Vykan looked over all the controls.  Hindsight is perfect.  I suppose, even for a demon.  No lack of that.  Anyhow, how the fuck do I fly this thing?        Technically, you don't.  It's on autopilot now.  I'll show you when necessity must.  Right now, let's get the parachute on.        Once guided on what to do by the demon, Vykan pulled back the side-door on the plane, ice-frigid winds barreling to fill the space created.  He braced against the grab-handle, looking at the dawn-lit ground, thousands of feet below; clouds whipping past.  First time for everything . . . A wrench of his abdomen as he kneel-rolled out.  Spiral-tumbling through the air, Vykan closed his eyes and immersed himself in the freedom of the fall.  How the wind whipped his hair, caressed almost solidly between his fingers; how it seemed to both touch and slap his skin as he soared down.  A sigh let itself out without him noticing.  What a lovely dream . . .        No need to do a high-pull drop, I guess.  I would rather not splatter and find us in that uncanny ocean again, though.        I suppose not.  Vykan rolled about, placing himself belly-down in the fall, descent slowing at the increased air resistance.  The morning sky and crisp air refreshed him almost enough to forget these past days.  It all just melds together . . .         What?        Unimportant.  You should ignore my ramblings more, you know?  Vykan's skin had become clammy from the air, due to him wearing nothing but a thin undershirt and mesh under pants.  Despite being tucked inside socks and fully enclosed by the boots, his feet chilled through.  Between that and being sweaty as shit?  Vykan would prefer this 9 out of 10 times.  A pet saying of his -- and favorite accompaniment being 'the one situation I can't think of.'  Outside of his thoughts, the ground had increased clarity, vegetation and shadows forming definition.        Go ahead and pull the chute.  That'll at least give us time to get pissed once we splat.        A smile quirked as Vykan ripped the cord, his shoulders yanking up as the chute billowed out.  If he had been wearing slippers, he was sure they'd flown off at that.  Seems good.  Where'd we end up, by the way?  It all just seemed to be snow-cap mountains, spring rainbows, and rural old country to him.       Western Eurozone.  I disabled as many electronics as possible to obfuscate trackers, and I'm not in the mood to start in the UK isles.  Switzerland, France, Poland, Belgium; anyone of those hopefully.  Or we're in for a bad time.        Vykan gripped the steering lines tight as a gust blew him around.  Why's that?        Unlike the US, EU has a bigger issue with viruses.  Less radiation, more . . . uh, 'infected.'        Zombies?  Are you fucking with me?        No.        Another sigh.  Well, shit.  Cord against cord chafed Vykan's hand as he pulled in, slowing descent further; being close enough to clearly see granular details now.  It was countryside, which usually meant unseen enemies in far away vantages, but to someone immortal and Styx-flesh; that didn't matter as much as the psychological relief of being in nature once more.  Touching down, Vykan rolled into a tangled mess, unsure of how to land.  He was trapped when Pruflas ejected back out, cutting the lines with a swift hand motion.        "Not the most graceful, are you?"  A hand down to pull him up.        Vykan took it, decoupling the harness and cord tangle from his person.  He sidestepped the question, countering, "I take it EU did the 'hole up in population hub' thing?"        Like a wisp intangible, Pruflas vanished back.  Pretty much.        It was a wide set valley, unkempt grasses blowing in breezes, chill caps on distant ranges.  The soft yellow of dawn lit everything in an almost unnatural calm, at least insofar as Vykan's sensibilities.  He looked around.  Where to?        East.        East.  Yep.  With an exhale, Vykan began walking.  So, why not go more south?  Like the Mediterranean?         Mediterranean's a no-go.  Whole thing got blockaded after the second round of viruses.  Nasty shit, that Harran Virus.  They take unsanctioned travel seriously anymore, as in, sink boats if they don't identify within 5 minutes type deal.  Europe has the advantage of being more destabilized due to a bunch of dirty bomb attacks decades ago.  That kind of set it back to a 'simpler time.'        A lot to digest there.  Vykan adjusted his boot fit before powering into a run.  And just to be clear, when you say 'East,' you mean . . . ?        Keep going East until we hit China, yeah.        It didn't take too long to hit a runner's high, Vykan tramping foot to foot through the valley scenery.  Gravel crunched satisfyingly under heel, air fainting a whistle at the speed.  His pace was impressive, pushing Olympian in endurance, not so much the blazing pace.  I hope we find a car . . .        ~On the level~ ~Carrying a name~ ~Fall until my final day~ ~Now, who's there left to blame?~     A day here, and a day gone by.  Shadows swiveled about their stations at Vykan's progress, marking for the night shift.  He blitzed the valley hills, finding a little two-lane between jagged spires bearing vales anew.  It was quite apparent to the travelers Vykan's stamina had become something rather prodigious.  It made up for the fact that the cars had rusted out fuel tanks, cracked lines, and all other frustrating issues preventing a commandeering.  Still, balanced against the clear star-laden sky winking into view.  Frigid night air bit Vykan's earlobes, nose, and fingers -- he would be in mild frostbite given his attire, if not for the obvious.        The road hugged to the side of a small mountain lake, in a tiny crescent valley no more than a handful miles long.  A single boat rocked on a dock opposing the shore to the left.  Without regular road services, the asphalt had cracked and split from root growth, trees and shrubbery slowly overtaking the artifices.  A somehow pleasing sight in the quiet night.        I love the way the trees sway.  Beautiful country out here.  Currently on a pass between crags, Vykan marveled at the thin locations trees cropped.  How they curled up from nothing more than cracks between rock faces.        Shut the hell up.  I'm tired of this faux-happy bullshit.  It's been a day, and you act like nothing's wrong.  Fuck you.        . . . Vykan set his jaw a hair tighter, but he ran without further comment.  Didn't stop the way moonlight played off granite faces, but he supposed the demon was right.  No need to comment on every little thing.  He barreled around the rock jut at the end of the crescent, to a third valley.  This one had some kind of roadside stop in the nook of the dip, with a large parking lot and few cars within.  Gas station or small restaurant?         I don't care.        Stepping off the road into soil to account for downhill acceleration, Vykan bore for the pit stop.  The night was getting rather chilly without clothes, and he could do with at least a long-sleeve now.  He slowed from a full run to a jog once hitting the parking lot, and then a walk to peer inside cars.  Careful not to tarry, he scanned for a shirt before moving along.  Eventually, he made it to the swing doors, glass frosted with age, if not outright shattered long ago.  Place hasn't looked used in at least two decades.        Prying open the door -- noting how fastened shut they were, Vykan peered around the dingy room.  Once a multi-purpose convenience store, stripped bare.  Maybe there was an employee room or casita-thing somewhere?  At this point, Vykan would be happy with a rag to wrap himself in.  He looked the shelves over.  Nothing but dust.  Fuck.  He checked the offices and attaches to an equal result; before returning to the main room with a sigh, propping himself up on the checkout desk.  "I need a minute.  It's cold."  No reply.  Vykan settled in the silence, gazing out the frosted panes to the quiet, dark world outside.  Nothing but the scant breezes broke the scenery for as long as he sat.        There was no set time.  Just the impulse to move again, and Vykan hopped down in response.  He kicked his toes against the floor before digging in and setting out again.  East.        And so it was.  Days and days through the old European countryside.  Even the smallest of villages had been set in a way to ward off the infected -- who turned out to be a blend of walker-types in the day, and runner-types at night -- Spring rains washed in creeks, mountains tall shed their winter coats, and the weather slowly but steadily cleared on Vykan's journey.  He had asked once why they did not go through the Middle East, and rather through Southwest Russia.  The answer was that radiation was worse there than just about any part of the world.  Only southern China matched.        After that point, Vykan tuned it all out.  The world could be as beautiful as it wanted.  He solely wanted to get his task done.  It shifted into a game of following the old roads, and at times the old trails back.  Night no longer was a time of respite or quietude, just more time in which to run.  And the days became indistinct wearing their festive colors of spring.  Curious of it all is just how mundane beauty can be once you stop caring.  All those vistas, lakes, clouds, spans, valleys, peaks, nooks, and more.  All the same shit.  All ran past.        He stopped caring about time after the first death, and the only real progress now was the shift in chlorophyll from the greens to pales as the mid season kicked its way into the world.  That and the distance covered in the months.  What monstrous energy Vykan had.  Something small in him changed after Palomar, which only became noted in the Eastern US, but the change never stopped.  He was getting faster, stronger.  Inhuman.        The inhuman Stygian had crossed Europe inside a single season, now in the transition ranges at the foot of Asia Minor, where the world was drier and zombies less roamed.  It wasn't as though it was an apocalypse, after all, the New Plague and Harran Virus sewn their crop long ago now.  It was just . . . a return to a time before.  People had truly changed in the decades since calamities.  More cautious day to day.  More wary of a madman roaming the world with no visible weapon or armor.  Especially one so seemingly well-fed.  How else did that body sustain itself?  It made Vykan immediately distrusted no matter where and who he ventured.  That and needing to rely on Pruflas for translation made him slowly turn inward.  What was the point in talking?        Here upon the skirts of the mountains a small village was.  It was strange.  Small, people underfed, and little coverage to the elements.  Something about the way the eyes stared at him made him pause his long run.  It was wariness.  Hard.  Cold.  But it was the way the people held those torches that made him ultimately choose to walk down the main road; a small affair of thin packed dirt.  As Vykan walked the village-without-electricity, he noted the way people closed their shutters, how they stared at his supple energy-laden body.  It made him self conscious of the fact he looked like a prime bodybuilder.  But I didn't choose this.        Past the welcome crowd, Vykan noticed the next highest commotion.  People had gathered around a house at the outskirts of the village, murmuring to each other before noticing him.  Always that glance at his body before leaving.  Like a flash judgement.  He stood at the threshold of the puny abode, humbling proportions but undeniable of the one thing: love.  Home to someone.  Do I really care to find out why they gather here?  No answer.  Pruflas, are you there?  Or did you leave sometime when I didn't notice?  Silence.  Vykan took a seat in the chair by the door, under the curtilage lip of the roof, staring back to the village.        He decided to knock after a while thinking.  No answer.  That wouldn't explain the gathering.  He tried the handle, pushing the door slowly open to the quiet interior.  Wood furniture and hand-weaved coverings in a multi-use room.  A corner for cooking, another for dining, the center for the gathering of a small family.  "Hello?"  The word seeped into the wood with no return.  He stepped past the center fire pit, where he then saw the attaching bedroom.  On the bed were two bodies.  Vykan nodded, turning to leave, before noticing something in the hands of the couple.  Gently walking over, he eased the thing out, unfurling it.  A photo.  Smiling faces, and a little girl . . . Vykan put the photo back, looking back around.  Not here.        He left the house, looking in the yard around for perhaps a headstone, a sign.  Nothing.  Just the distant mountains behind and rolling plain where he ran in from.  He walked out, looking, before deciding to follow a creek by the village, fed from the mountain crags.  The day began its latter half, shadows switching direction to march for low evening when he heard soft laughter somewhere off ahead.  He called out once he clambered over the shoulder of the bank, into a field of small white flowers and a girl that matched the photo.  She started a moment, before looking at back to him.        She spoke the language, but he didn't know it.  He shook his head, pointing to his lips and raising the other hand in a 'forgive me' gesture.  "I am sorry, little one.  I speak only the one tongue.  Hello."        She looked puzzled a moment, before her eyes lit up.  "America?  You are American?"  Her accent was good, great.  It showed a focused practice.        He nodded, smiling and taking a small step closer, simultaneously pointing to the flowers.  "Yes.  I am.  Where did you learn English?"        She pulled a flower up, probably thinking he wanted one, running over to him in a happy little jig.  "Mama and Papa teach me.  They show me pictures.  We'll go to America someday!"  She held the flower up to him, beaming.        Vykan smiled down, gently taking the flower and looking at it.  I don't recognize it.  He was turning it over to look at the petals when she slipped and fell in front of him.  "Hey, hey.  Are you okay?"  He held a finger out as a hold for her little hands.        "I'm tired.  Hot.  I wanna go home."  As he was pulling her back to her feet, he noticed then.  The redness under her eyes.  The flush of cheeks and neck.  Shaking.  Weakness.         Her eyes began to tear up when Vykan thought to front it, asking.  "Why don't I take you home?  Can you show me the way?  Take that flower to your parents, I bet they'll be really happy."  He knelt down, picking the flower up and holding it out with a playful smile.        "You think so?  Yay!"  She nodded and ran a bit before coughing out.  Vykan caught her as she fell again, lifting her into a carry.        "If I carry you, can you tell me your name so I can tell your parents what a well behaved girl you are?"  Her body was hot.  Vykan's smile barely reached his eyes.  She coughed, clearly trying to reply, when he held the flower back to her again.  "Here.  Keep it safe.  Why don't I teach you a song on the way home?"        She nodded weakly as he walked back across the creek.  The sun had dipped behind the eastern mountains, but light was still firm out on the creek back.  He eased her, before calling out in soft tones.        She giggled at the first syllables, calming down and interrupting.  "What does that mean?"        "It means 'sing to me' in a really old tongue.  Does it sound nice?"  He played with the word messiah, emphasizing the hidden 'y' vowel in the middle with a smile.        She laughed, before a clear cough.        Vykan called to her, rocking gently.  "Why don't I sing the rest?  Try and learn so you can sing to Mama and Papa."       ~Lesu messiah ut~ ~Tu mea di cantus~ ~Hey, are you still awake?~ ~Hang on just a little longer.  You'll be with your parents soon~     He walked back to the village with the mask on.  It was only when he noticed her body cooling did he begin crying.  It started with a tremble of the jaw.  The orange of evening blended to a purple, shadows combining for another night, when Vykan finally carried her back around to the outskirt of the village.  The house was ablaze, bright against the darkening sky.  Villagers looked at him, backing away in fear, looking to the girl.  He stepped through, carrying her inside the burning house.  The Stygian blessing preventing the flames their kiss, as he laid her between the now-charring parents.  He stepped back, watching the flower begin to wilt in the flame.        I hate this.  I hate having to see this.  What do I have to do to stop this?  Where can I go?  It's been nothing but misery since the ocean dream.  Vykan hung his head, listening to the roar as it cracked the wood, pulling all the moisture out of the area.  I hope you have a good dream, you and your parents.  Carry that wish with you to the sky.  And, can I ask something of you, little one?  Can you bring my wish along?  I want to be the last.  I want to be the last monster humanity has.  Be so happy in that far away field.          He stayed in the house as it slowly crumbled in the night, standing and watching as all the color vanished to ash, as the fire turned low and embers hummed in orange behind black char.  Night had fallen through the now open roof, and Vykan stood, clothes mostly burnt and shoe soles melted to the floor.  His eyes stung, mostly from the smoke and chemicals put off by the fire.  But he never felt so alien before this moment.  His hair did not singe a bit.  He felt the tingle of the demon returning as he stared down at the three figures.        . . . what did you do?!        Pruflas ejected back out, grabbing Vykan by the shoulder and punching his jaw so hard he staggered back.  "You fucking monster!  A child?!  I've had it!  God damn you!  God damn you to hell itself!"  He swung into the Stygian, beating him with no result.  Vykan caught a haymaker after a bit, staring off in the distance.  He pushed back, forcing Pruflas on his ass.  Pruflas grit his fangs against each other, audibly gnashing.  He got up, fists swirled with magia when he noticed it finally.  Tears on the Stygian's cheeks.  He staggered back a moment.        Then he turned and left.