Meridian

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The collapse of reality has begun …

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Fatal events on Meridian are escalating, leaving many thousands dead in their wake. While the Queen of Jeradine blames their old enemy, Yarcatzn, Agent Tian Brooke is convinced a more sinister force is in play, one that threatens the fabric of existence itself. The end of the world is a heartbeat away. The collapse of reality has begun.

Meridian is a science fiction novel set on the planet Meridian. It explores the nature of reality and the influence that our actions have upon it. It is ultimately a tale of good and evil, of transformation and transcendence, wrapped up in a thrill ride of blistering action.

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If you are an agent or publisher interested in my work, please do get in touch by leaving a comment, which will send me an email with your details.

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All material is copyright © Richard Clarke

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Meridian – Prologue

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“It was a moment gifted from heaven,” Cameron said, as they strode through the brightly lit corridor, their shoes sounding crisply on the polished marble. “Kendrick drop kicks the ball to Simon, who passes to Monant, who rushes the defenders, and at the last instant, weaves through them like a magician and slams the ball into the back of the net. It was one heck of a way to secure the championship.”

Quite why Cameron always insisted on giving a blow by blow account of a sport that he had never shown the slightest bit of interest in, Tian did not know. He was, nonetheless, quietly proud of the Mets. And besides, his home town, Serene City, was aglow in the sunshine of celebration, and one thing he enjoyed was a collective exhalation of joy.

“If only I could have had a seat in the stadium, now that would have been a dream. The back row would have been good enough.”

Actually, when he thought about it, it was Cameron’s delight in the home victory that he was enjoying; a win he had been assured was historic. He glanced at his partner and smiled, for the agent, who was smartly dressed in his fitted uniform, his grey hair freshly cropped to a tight crew cut befitting the Agency, appeared to be as giddy as a school boy. His tanned features were alight, as he gesticulated animatedly.

“At long last, the stigma has evaporated. We are no longer perennial quarterly finalists.”

They took a sharp turn to the right and the corridor opened out into the secure building’s bustling reception. The ‘round room’, as it was known, was generously flooded with white light from an oversized and decidedly modern silver fitting, one that Tian felt was more suited to a high end gallery, or a park-side hotel, rather than the supposedly stern entrance to a services’ building. Quite why his own below ground office suite was not so opulently furnished, he did not know. But then, if he was being honest, he did know: it befitted his status.

The colourful and, he supposed, elegant furnishings that surrounded the cool marbled reception were in plain contrast to the array of uniforms steadily coming and going through the security barriers ahead of them. A stony faced officer, with cropped blonde hair, looked them up and down as they approached; an appraisal that seemed laden with disdain. It was a glance that he knew well, for the service that employed him, the Royal Jeradine Intelligence Agency, was actively disliked by his peers. But then, they were a cog in the state’s internal security machine, watching over the military.

“The real challenge though will be next season. It’s one thing winning the cup, it’s quite another to benefit from it in the league. But then, ‘No fear, no limits’, as the motto goes.”

They slipped through thebarriers without exchanging a word with the blonde officer. Tian did, though, do his best to project affability toward her, for despite the choices he had made which had led him to be employed in the ‘lower service’, he bore no ill toward his colleagues.

As they stepped out of the building, they were greeted by clear blue skies. Tian took in a generous lung full of fresh spring air and looked up at the twin suns that shone benevolently. He imagined that he could see the criss-cross marvel that was the new security ‘fence’ high above them, dome-like; an electronic wonder that protected the city’s secrets from prying eyes, like a blacked out window. Only a few whispered voices had dared to note that it could also prevent the city’s citizens from looking out.

In a few shortmonths, the government’s plan was to extend the fence state-wide and then nation-wide. It was a magnificent feat of engineering. Quite how the hundreds of scientists and technicians had manifested such a device was beyond words.

“Ah, victory’s colours,”Cameron said, as he stood proud with his hands on his hips.

Conference Avenue lay before them, its five-hundred year old cream facades bedecked in royal and city colours, banners that stretched the length of the great boulevard and fluttered in the gentle breeze. City workers were busy cleaning the streets and erectingbarriers for the home team’s triumphal parade that afternoon. Dozens already waited expectantly, mingling with the tourists, sipping early morning coffee from pavement cafes, their shoulders draped in flags, and their heads adorned with silly oversized hats. By midday the route would be lined with many thousands awaiting the passage of the team, all hoping to catch sight of the silver cup held aloft, glinting in the suns.

Tian was charmed by the scene, for not only did the expectant and the wide-eyed tourists seem to be cheerful, but so did the workers setting up for the parade and the office bound who had stolen a minute to step out for a bite to eat. It was a pleasure to see Serene City with such a wide smile on its face, especially in light of his nervousness around the worsening state of relations with Yarcatzn. It had been two decades since the Great War with their mighty neighbour, but that gnawing sense of fragility was again seeping into his skin.

He exhaled loudly, as they walked, andwished his mind off politics. Inevitably, perhaps, his gaze wandered to the right and his vision was filled with what had already become the country’s most powerful political symbol.

In the near distance was the city’s newest structure vaulting into the sky. At its base, and visible in almost intimate detail from where Tian stood, were giant cream columns that surrounded its colossal granite podium. Upon the podium, and already rising at a record pace, was what would become the central dome, a structure so tall that it would challenge the dominance of the steel and glass skyscrapers to the west. It would be a good number ofmonths – Tian would be happy for it to be many years – before the dome to the Royal Capital Lyons was capped by an enormous eagle clasping a silverMeridianbetween its claws.

They strode across the avenue, effortlessly dodging the streaming traffic, a finely tuned practice honed by years of city living. Ahead of them were tall ornate black iron gates tipped with crowns that led into the services’ cityport. As Tian reached for his identification and travel orders, he glanced beyond the ranks of security, and caught a glimpse of the suns glinting off the harriers.

Tian settled into the leather seat by the passenger side window and clicked his safety belt into place, as the sleek, compact harrier gently lifted off. He pulled his palmtop from within his jacket, and as they ascended smoothly into unruffled skies, he dialled automatically. A moment later, a soft round face topped with a mop of unruly hair appeared above the screen. As his little girl looked into his eyes, sheflashed a big toothy grin and joy lit his heart.

“Pappi.”

“Hello my lovely, how are you today?”

“Mamma showed me a frog.” It was clearly her greatest discovery of the day, and why not. “It was big and slimy.”

“I can imagine, little one. What did you do with it?”

“We put it by a pond and it hopped. I have a picture. I took it all by myself. When are you coming home?”

“Not for a while darling, I’m afraid, Pappi has to work. Could you put Mamma on?”

“Mamma,” his beautiful little girl shouted, as her head disappeared from above the pad, to be replaced by an older version of his daughter.

“Tian, really, you’re going to be late?” his wife asked. “I’m cooking a roast for tonight.”

“Honey, I’m sorry.” His mouth watered; a roast sounded really good. He would have liked nothing better than to instruct the pilot to head for his house right now, and treat everyone on the flight to home cooked food and a cold beer. “This just came in. We have to head out of the city and we could be a while. I can’t tell you when we’ll be back.”

“IsAlain with you?”

Tian swung the palmtop to his partner to pick up his image.

“Yep.” Cameron said and waved noncommittally.

“Alain, it’s a roast, it’s going to be really good, come out with him.” She laughed, as she implored him. “We have fine wine here. You and Tee can make fools of yourselves on the porch and smoke those wretched cigars of yours.”

Cameron’s face sank. “Don’t, please, Iwish we could.”

Tian turned the palmtop back to himself. “I’m sorry, I really am. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You’d better.” She winked at him with a knowing smile. “Let me know when you’re on your way home.”

“Will do. I’ll see you soon.” Tian hung up the call, as an image of his wife in a sensual light came to his mind. He adjusted himself and looked out of the window, so as to not let Cameron see his smirk.

The provocative image promptly vanished as he looked down upon a giant pall of smoke that billowed by the edge of the Charme, the great water artery that meandered gracefully through the city. The building that was once beneath the black mass was the Providene Cathederal, a monument that was almost a thousand years old. It was an architectural gem that was intimately woven into the city’s history, and for Queen Amaya to have allowed it to be destroyed was a terrible crime. What need did they have to clear ground for another vehicle port? He gritted his teeth and forced silence upon himself, as the sarcastic and rhetorical question bounced around his brain.

He twisted his head away. He could look no more.

“It’s about time they levelled that old thing,”Cameron muttered, as he turned back to Tian and smiled. “It belongs to another time.”

There were moments when hewished that he could step intoAlain’s mind and listen to his thoughts, and just once see the mechanisms that drove him. They had over the last year debated just about every subject under the suns, but every now and then his partner would make, what were to him, the most outrageous comments. He sincerely hoped his words were in jest. Either way, it wasn’t the time to probe.

~

Tian looked out across a rolling expanse of lush fields and thick hedgerows. The harrier flew low over a thin, grey road that wound its way over a stone bridge. The road led to a tall wooden farmhouse, with a small stables and what looked to be the remains of a barn set in the grounds behind it. The view was idyllic, a picture postcard.

Although a good number of years away, Tian had his eye on his own modest slice of retirement paradise away from the city, and assuming they could gather enough savings in the coming years, a cottage on the slopes of the distant Yanyarbe mountain range one day beckoned.

As they approached, Tian squinted, for as he looked over the wreckage of the barn, he realised that beside it was a red fire fighting vehicle. He groaned inwardly, for surely the reason they’d being called away from the city was not to investigate a fire. The image of his wife’s roast came to mind. If he could make this visit quick, then perhaps they could get back home in time for dinner.

The vehicle slowed as it smoothly descended, and as the fine rustic details of the gorgeous farmhouse became visible, the building’s front door opened, and two people strode out purposefully with, what appeared to him to be, a military gait.

As the harrier touched down with a gentle bump and the door seals cracked with a hiss, Tian looked out at the approaching pair. The taller of the two, a slim man whose grey hair matched his ashen face, wore dark civilian clothes and strode with the shorter in his wake, a young man with a startled look in his eyes who wore the soft khaki of the youth scouts.

Tian turned to Cameron. “Commander Hatherington?”

“Yes,” Alain replied, and pulled his silver palmtop from his pocket. He read from the screen. “Commander Stephen Maine Hatherington, Royal High Seas Fleet, a twenty-five year veteran. He comes from money, as is obvious.” Cameron gestured disdainfully at the farm complex. “Married, family man, four children, three in state programmes, the youngest of which is entering in the autumn. He served with distinction, he’s decorated, and he kept his nose clean throughout. A model officer in all respects.”

“So, what do we make of his call, then?”

Cameron smiled. “You know country folks: all the fresh air turns their minds to mush.”

Tian’s safety belt retracted and he jumped from the vehicle to stand on the damp grass they had landed upon them. The air did indeed feel different to Serene City: it was colder, fresher and cleaner. It was lovely and just what he needed.

As he cast his gaze over the farmhouse, a fleeting sensation passed through him like an ice-cold apparition. He could not quite put his finger on it, but it was a feeling of finality, as if this place marked the end of certainty and the onset of unpredictability. He rubbed his arms as he shuddered, suddenly cold. His imagination ran wild at times.

He turned to face Commander Hatherington and caught glimpse of Alain rubbing his arms.

“Cold?”

“No, it’s nothing,” Cameron replied. “Just a funny feeling, that’s all.”

Tian turned to face the agent, but before he had a chance to open his mouth, Commander Hatherington extended his hand.

“Ah, the Agency,” he said, his voice was level but uncertain, as if from nerves, “about time.”

“Agent Tian Brooke,” he said, and grasped the commander’s hand. The man’s grip was firm, but his palm was damp with cold sweat. “And this is my partner, Agent Alain Cameron.”

He nodded, a quick and jerky gesture. “Commander Hatherington, and this is my son, Jerrad.” The young man stood close, both of his hands clung to his father’s sleeve. His eyes flitted, as he seemed desperate for his gaze not to rest on either him or Alain.

“Gentleman, I am not a man given to wild and inventive stories.” Hatherington’s eyes locked onto Tian’s, as if imploring him to believe. “And, no offence intended, but I would have preferred not to invite the Royal Jeradine Intelligence Agency to land on my lawn.”

Tian nodded, his curiosity aroused, for he appeared to perfectly fit the description Alain had given him: a loyal servant of Royal Jeradine, an upright military man who had no doubt experienced the ferocity of combat and had made it through to the other side. And yet, here he was: nervous and defensive.

“This way,” Hatherington said, gesturing for them to follow him.

As they walked in silence around the farmhouse, with its colourful hanging baskets, small brown framed windows, heavy wooden door and thatched roof, apprehension shimmered through in him. Despite the clear skies, it was as if he was walking through dead still air that had thickened and become charged, as though heavy storm clouds were about tobreak above them. It leant an unreal and unnerving quality to the beautiful scene. That silence had descended upon them, as if imposed by an unseen authority, only agitated himfurther.

Hatherington held his boy close as they rounded the farmhouse. Tian nodded to the fire-fighters who appeared to be readying their vehicle to leave, as they made for the soaked wreckage of the barn.

To the left of the ruins were the remains of a cluster of trees. They had all been sheared at the same height, leaving short trunks. Oddly, behind the trunks there seemed to be a large mound of earth that had been levelled to the same height as the trees, and, he could be mistaken, but there also appeared to be poles sunk in the ground, also cut to the same height.

As they crunched over a pathway of loose stones, the fresh spring air was replaced with the acrid stench of the fire’s aftermath. The district was not known for its arsonists. In fact, it was most unusual for vandals to make it this far out into the quietness of the countryside.

The commander pointed and, as if he had read Tian’s mind, said, “We are not troubled by delinquents in these parts, before you suggest it. Besides, this farm is ringed with security, all of which ceased recording at four-thirteen this morning. And before you ask, I know exactly happened, because I was up for my morning run.”

“Your fire is why we are here?”Cameron said and folded his arms.

“No, Agent Cameron, the fire is not why you are here.” There was fear laced with Hatherington’s anger, as his voice croaked.

Tian raised his hand to Cameron. He did not needAlain accusing the man of wasting their time. Besides, he needed quiet, for the oddest feeling was overtaking him. It had silenced his incessant stream of thoughts and caused his skin to go cold and tingle. He stepped forward, cautiously and slowly, as hisbreathing began to quicken. With the barn in his peripheral vision, his gaze settled on the trees, the mound of earth and the poles.

His first glance had been wrong, the trees and poles had not been chopped level with the earth, as if sliced horizontally. Instead, a distinct concave shape had been cut into the area, with the outer poles higher than the tree stumps at the centre, and the earth at the back sloping upward. It was as if a giant globe had settled over the site, shearing the trees and the poles, and flattening the earth.

But stranger still was the unworldly sensation that he felt from being close to the site. It was faint, like the echo of a shout that had already bounced of a dozen walls. He could swear that what he felt was someone or something reaching into his mind. Or rather, it was as if he was being inexorably drawn in, like a boat caught on the edge of a whirlpool. The sensation was of looking into angry molten darkness, bubbling liquid metal infused with rage that was approaching, like lava down a mountainside. The image flashed in his head for single second and then vanished.

Hisbreath came now short and sharp, his mouth was dry.

“You feel it, don’t you, Agent,” Hatherington said, slowly and quietly.

“What happened here, Commander,” Tian said, without turning to face him.

“This morning when it should have been the middle of the night, light as bright as day flooded this yard. There were gale force winds that howled and a shrieking in the air that I can only describe as white noise. A small star, blue in colour, appeared next to the barn over the trees and the pylons. It was afloat, suspended in the air. Tendrils of fire arced from it and set fire to the barn.”

Tian rubbed his arms, as he shivered. There was no doubt in his mind that the commander was telling the truth, he could feel it in his voice, despite the ridiculousness of the image that he described.

Hatherington suddenly took him by the hand. His fingers were ice cold, his grip tight. “There were people in theflames, Agent.”

Irrespective of how Hatherington had described it, this was clearly no ordinary fire. He could not explain rationally why he was certain of it, but he could feel it in his blood. What manner of an event had occurred here, and why was he sure that it was directly related to the image of molten metal infused with wrath? It was all too absurd and fantastical to hold any truth, surely?

He pulled his gaze away and turned toCameron.

“I think we’d better get our equipment.”

~

Meridian – One

~

One year later …

“Cameron,” Tian shouted above the clamour as his breathing quickened.

“I’m here.” He felt Alain tug the back of his jacket.

“They’re pushing them away from the Village.” He pointed ahead to a shimmering defensive screen that barred entry to an avenue off to the left.

“They might be funnelling them intoPrincessPark,” Cameron replied.

“You said the event would strike the Village.”

“No, I said somewhere in the Government Quarter,” he shouted back angrily, “which includes the park the last time I looked.”

Tian stayed low, as his heart began to race, wishing that he was back in the cool and ordered confines of his office. Or better still, sat with his feet up on the balcony of his quiet apartment, with a fresh bottle of whiskey ready to soak his organs. Instead, he was elbowed in the ribs, as he weaved by a woman who blew a whistle so loudly next to his head that his ears rang. Someone then stamped on his foot, as he dodged a man who held a banner that ridiculously proclaimed, ‘The end of the world is now’.

He spotted woman in front of him who held a small black sphere. That was the last thing he needed. As he caught her gaze, he imagined for a second that he had seen into her mind, and had found her raging against the walls of her head. He lunged at her too late: she laughed manically, as she threw the sphere into the air. It burst with a pop and pungent yellow smoke blanketed the jeering crowd.

Tian strained to see between the banners and flags and through the haze that stung his eyes. He took in a sharp breath as he glimpsed a wall of men in black up ahead. The ranks of body-armoured, weapon-wielding police stood erect behind a shimmering, translucent screen that was three stories tall and extended between the buildings, like a giant envelope. The regal cream facades and colonnades behind the officers were lit for as far as he could see by glimmering red and blue lights.

Now, more than ever, he wished that he could climb above the crowd and fly away from the mob. The demonstration might well have been spontaneous and to his mind foolhardy, but Queen Amaya’s response was most definitely not. The authorities, he knew, were executing a well rehearsed plan to deal with social disorder, and Tian’s choice to follow Cameron’s intelligence to this spot was beginning to appear completely stupid.

A bottle clipped Tian’s head and clattered to the ground.

“Are you all right?” Cameron said.

He nodded sharply and rubbed his stinging scalp, as he was shoved in the side. Bottles, smoke spheres and fire crackers sailed overhead toward the police line. The agitated crowd roared its approval as the barrage of missiles bounced off the shimmering screen. Gentle ripples pulsed across its surface from the impact of the objects, like stones being thrown in a still pond.

That the populace felt so bold was an obvious measure of their anxiety, but it was also dangerous, for it could get out of hand quickly. If they turned around now and pushed hard against the flow, perhaps they could get out of the crush and find open ground where he could breathe. A space where he wasn’t hemmed in, where he didn’t feel as though the fevered anger in the people was seeping through his skin and infecting his blood.

Tian craned his neck upward as he was again jostled. Tight clusters of Royal Guard raptors and police harriers hovered menacingly low above them. Beneath leaden cloud, their engines thumped and their light bars were ablaze, the primary colours flickering against the darkly bruised canvas. Within the comfortable confines of one of the floating vehicles was Eva Daxa.

“Lieutenant, what’s going on?” Tian said, with his hand to his ear.

“Sir, the police have been ordered to divert the militants away from the Village. They’re steering throughWaterwell AvenueintoPrincessPark.”

Over the noise, Tian picked out the angry, bee-like drone of the screen generator as they approached the avenue to the left. Its humming harmonics pitched up and down with each missile that struck its glistening surface. A jagged rock flew from out of the crowd, from somewhere ahead of him, and bounced off the screen to a raucous cheer. Where they had managed to find rocks, Tian did not know, but it was quickly followed by another, and as the trickle became a flood, the police shifted in unison, tightening up their ranks.

“Daxa, what’s happening directly ahead of us?”

“Sir, four screens have been erected at intersections alongWaterwell Avenue. The militants are probing them, but they all secure. Additionally, the Royal Guard has been deployed from General Kalaman Barracks to reinforce the police lines.”

“We’re approaching the screen atWoolfe Streetnow,” Tian said, as he glanced up at a building to his left, his eye taken by light flickering behind the cream voile in the elegant sash windows.

In his peripheral vision, his eye caught a bottle sailing toward him. He ducked, and as it flew over his head, Tian lost his footing and began to fall. As the ground trembled, his trousers ripped and his knee scraped along the rough cobblestones.

Raw pain lanced into his leg. He gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes shut, as Cameron grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back onto his feet. “Tian?”

“I’m fine, it’s nothing.” His heart sprinted, as he dabbed his knee and felt grit in the wound. It smarted more than he had any intention of letting on. He straightened up and looked down at his hand: there was generous amount of blood on his fingers. A heavy droplet of water landed on a nail and diluted the blood.

“Tian, over there, look.” Cameron pointed to a seven-story building on the opposite side of the street.

The lights behind the banks of windows flickered and then failed. The glow in the black iron street lamps faded away and the screen generator’s drone dissolved until it was silent. Tian shivered, though not in anticipation of the fall of the police defences, but what he knew would be their reaction to it. They had to get off the street, irrespective of what had brought them there.

The crack, crack, crack of weapons fire punctured the air, and a wave of screaming promptly followed. Fear flowed acidly in his veins, slowing his ability to think straight, clouding his rationality.

“Agent Brooke.”

It was Daxa. “Go ahead,” he said, certain that he could hear whining from within her cockpit, as if her raptor was struggling to retain power.

“Sir, the screens have collapsed and the mob is surging into the police. The officers are firing warning shots and are about to release pepper gas.”

And if that didn’t work, bullets would follow. He turned to Alain. “It fits, doesn’t it?”

Cameron nodded, as he wrenched a palmtop from his satchel. Tian stood on his tiptoes, and as he strained for a look at the breach, he caught a glimpse of billowing white fog flooding into the crowd. The shrieks of hundreds tore through the dead stillness, slicing into him. As heavy droplets began to splash his face and the air rapidly cooled, Tian was pushed in the back, as the crowd began to surge.

“Damn it,” Cameron growled and tripped, the palmtop spilling from his hand.

Tian dove forward and caught the device before it could smash on the cobblestones. He gripped Cameron’s arm and thrust the instrument back into his palm.

“I’ve got you, keep at it,” he said, as the flow of crowd increased speed, taking them along with it. “Daxa.” A high pitched screeching blasted into his head. The two men wrenched the wireless receivers from their ears.

“Hell fire,” Cameron shouted and stamped on the miniature device.

Tian again craned his neck upward. The harriers and raptors appeared to be struggling to maintain height, as their sparkling lights flashed across the clouds that were rupturing rain.

“Tian.” Cameron tugged his sleeve and pointed to his palmtop. The instrument displayed a glowing map of the immediate area above its flat screen. There was an eruption of vibrant, primary blue light that emanated from the centre of the clash at the junction ofWoolfe StreetandWaterwell Avenue. Tian’s nostrilsflared, as hebreathed hard. It was too late for them to escape it. He straightened his back and faced the junction. He could not flinch from it. He had to see it.

A fork of blue lightning that seemed to pulse in Tian’s head with pure rage struck the intersection. He was sure that he snatched a glimpse of a blue star forming at the point of the strike, as a crashing boom punched the air. Glass shattered in a wave from the centre of the strike outwards, and, as the tide of breaking glass swept past him, a blast of naked fury ripped through his mind, like a hot, hurricane wind.

Instinctively, Tian grabbed Cameron and dragged him to the shaking ground. He threw himself on top of the agent, and clamped his eyes shut as white noise howled.

~

Tian looked down and found himself sat before a wooden table. The coffee cup upon it was a simple, white ceramic affair which suited the quiet cafe. In a slow and considered manner, he lifted the wide rimmed cup to his lips and savoured sips of the deliciously sweetened and milky coffee.

He absently gazed beyond the vacant wooden table ahead of him into wild gardens beyond an open bay window. An abundance of flowers dripped with dew and burst with vivid colour. Their lush scents drifted in with the cool spring air, their sweet fragrances a wonderfully pleasant contrast to the aroma of bubbling coffee and freshly baked pastries.

He sighed contentedly, for his legs were casually stretched out under a rustic table instead of tense and tightly tucked under a cold metal chair. He held open a thick brand-new paperback instead of a fifty-page report in need of review by yesterday, and he thumbed a faded postcard of the Yanyarbe mountain range instead of red-lit priority tabs.

His body pleasantly ached with a satisfying tiredness that seemed to ooze out of his limbs in long lazy waves. He delighted in allowing his head to loll forward, as his mind unfurled and his eyes gently closed by slow degrees. It was a quiet delight to be able to rest in his skin, and, more importantly and although decidedly unusual, it was wonderful to listen to a quiet free from the stampede of rancid memory that delighted in tearing his mind apart.

It wasn’t that the recollection of his little girl was any less intense that it had been. Quite the contrary, if he closed his eyes, he immediately saw her joyous face in sharper detail than he had for many long weeks. Nor was it that he felt any less pain at the idiocy that had led to the catastrophe that had torn them all apart. In fact, the horrific details, the roar of nauseating feeling, and the frame of time in which it had all occurred, was so deeply etched into his being that he doubted he would ever be able to forget. Nor did he ever wish to. But still, the crushing weight, which bore down on him with strength far in excess of anything that he had experienced before, seemed to have simply lifted. It would be temporary, of that he had no doubt. But it was, nonetheless, a respite for which he was most grateful.

If only the gentleman behind him would stop rustling his broadsheet newspaper, and the two teenagers to his side stopped publicly engaging in their lust, then all would be truly well.

The scraping of wood on tiles jolted him and he bolted upright, wide awake, as a woman in a little black dress sat down at the table opposite him. As the uniformed waiter placed a coffee cup and a tall glass of iced lemon water before her, she blew a long lock of light blonde hair from her youthful face. Tian’s breath caught in his throat.

“Thank you,” she said, in a low voice, her face alight, as she warmly smiled. The waiter bowed at the waist, an almost imperceptible gesture, and quietly withdrew.

Tian watched entranced, as she stirred the thin layer of dark chocolate into the creamy foam. She delicately placed the spoon on the saucer, and as she stretched and groaned with apparent satisfaction, he could not help but smile. His gaze then wandered from the fine hairs on her tanned arms, up to the delightful slope of her shoulders, the elegant curve of her neck, her sweet round chin and her sensuous lips. As he looked up into her blue eyes, he found her staring quizzically back at him.

Despite having just started the novel, he wrenched it open midway through and fixed his gaze on the first word he fell upon. He coerced a furtive glance out of himself and found fiery anxiety transformed into sweet relief, for she was smiling kindly at him. Her exquisite eyes, which seemed to carry a playful glint, sparkled, as she lazily sipped coffee. Tian hid firmly behind his novel and shook his head, as a wide beam crept across his face.

“Can you remember a time when you were so uninhibited?” she asked, as the teenagers kissed and played with each other’s hair.

“No, ‘uninhibited’ is not a word that I’m well acquainted with.” Tian looked down into his half full coffee cup.

“That’s a shame.”

“I really wouldn’t know.” He glanced back up and caught a smirk that was clearly mischievous. He felt his face flush, and as he racked his mind for something to say, he cleared his throat dramatically. “You err … sound as if you were born in the city?”

She nodded slowly. “From behind one of the mustard facades inWest Palentine.” She held his gaze. “And your accent suggests you were not?”

He looked away. “Ah, no.”

“I’d say you’re a South Country lad, Yaltran maybe.”

“Further south, Black Barn.”

“Really?” She frowned. “You hide it well.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

“My name isPetra.”

“T-Tian. Tian. Tian.” He coughed. “My name is Tian.”

~

Tian shook his head and spat a glob of grit-laden phlegm into the street. His head pounded and his body felt broken, as if he had been in a street fight that he had badly lost.

He managed to crawl off Cameron onto his knees, only to wince, as a spike of pain lanced through his knee wound and radiated out into his body. He screwed up his eyes tight, ground his teeth and growled under his breath. The fireworks behind his eyelids began to dissipate, and, as his breathing eased, he shook broken glass off the back of his leather jacket and slowly sat up.

Pain pulsed through his aching limbs, as he pushed himself up onto his unsteady feet and stared, numb, at a river of bodies haphazardly draped with banners and flags. At his feet lay a man and a woman, unmoving and tightly entwined, as if they had been clinging to one another as they fell. Ahead of him, the blood-drained faces of those struggling to raise themselves up off the ground were still and expressionless, like mannequins.

Tian’s feet crunched glass, as he turned through a slow circle, stunned, unable to think, to feel. His mind seemed to have been shut in a box that he could not find.

He stared, uncomprehending, at the facades of buildings that were no longer splashed with primary colours, and the pitch darkness that lay beyond their broken window panes. The dead still air felt charged with electricity and was choked with powdery grey dirt, billowing black smoke and countless of sheets of fluttering paper. The only sounds that came to him were the crackle of flames, the teeming of rain and the rumbling in the sky.

As Cameron cleared his throat, noisily spat, and began the struggle to sit up, Tian imposed even breathing on himself, as he attempted to slow his hammering heart, and bring order to the insanity bombarding his shredded senses.

Through the haze, he looked up to the top of the shadowy building to his left. Alarmed, he stared at a police harrier that had evidently crashed onto its roof. The vehicle’s power appeared to be offline and its engine grid hung precariously over the edge of the building. Masonry, shattered glass and smashed slate had spewed out into the avenue from the point of impact. The debris had clearly rained down onto the crowd. He looked up further still into the imperious weather to find that not one vehicle floated above him.

He turned around with a stiff cautiousness he felt reserved for a man twice his age. Foreboding abruptly made its presence known, as he inhaled sharply. He was faced with the smashed cockpit of a Royal Guard raptor that had slammed into the middle of the river of people, just feet from where he stood.

“Daxa,” he whispered. A cold shiver ran the length of his spine, as he involuntarily imagined her body broken among the twisted wreckage, her consciousness adrift who knew where.

A brilliant sheet of white lightning ripped across the wrathful cloud. Thunder smacked the air and a shockwave reverberated in his bones. As night became day, screams of terror pierced the deathly silence. Goose flesh sprang up on his skin, and he whipped his head back towardWoolfe Street, as the avenue was again plunged into murky darkness.

“Come on,” Tian said, dragging Cameron to his feet.

Pain spiked through his feet and up his legs, as they picked their way clumsily through the sprawl of tangled bodies. As Cameron grumbled and shook his dead palmtop, Tian gripped him by the arm and led him over the carpet of twisted limbs.

A hand reached up for him and Tian looked down upon a woman’s face. Her eyes were lit with fear, as her tears thinned the blood that dripped generously from her temple. He stubbornly pressed on while shoving aside waves of emotion that screamed at him to pause and tend to her. As much as he wanted to help her, as much as he needed to, if nothing else to attempt to assuage guilt, this was not the time to stop.

His skin tingled and his scalp was suddenly cold. “Can you feel it?” he said.

“Yes,” Cameron replied. “Can you hear them?”

Tian closed his eyes. There was a distant wailing. “Sirens?”

“It has to be.”

If sirens were closing, then the pulse had not knocked out the entire city. That would surely mean the police, ground troops and the Royal Guard would not be far away. He pushed his leaden limbs into a run, and though he desperately tried not to, he could not help but kick legs and step on arms as he jumped over inert and waking bodies.

An unseen hand grabbed his ankle. The air was forced from his lungs, as he slammed, startled, into the rain and blood drenched avenue, narrowly avoiding shattered glass. A dead man in a green shirt and black trousers lay inches in front of him. The body was face down and blood pooled around the head. Tian’s nostrils flared and his breathing raced, the sight of the dead was a mirror in which he fearfully looked. As he crawled closer, his blood ran ice cold.

Suspended in the air around the body were thousands of tiny pieces of green and black fabric, little clumps of flesh, soft tissue and globules of blood. Each element was being slowly drawn toward the body. As Tian stared and held his breath, afraid to disrupt the display, he followed a fragment of cloth, as it settled into a gap in the shirt, like a missing puzzle piece. In a few brief seconds, the spectacle had ceased and the corpse was whole.

“Cameron, tell me you see this?”

“I see it, I see it,” he replied, as he crouched next to Tian.

“We don’t have a recorder?”

“The pulse knocked it out.”

Tian could not stare at the body a moment longer. He pushed himself hurriedly backwards. He had to get away from the aberration and the sight of death. His way was barred by an inert body, and he sat back on his haunches, coughed until his lungs hurt and then looked up towardWoolfe Street.

The breathing were on their knees, straining to stand, heads in their hands, staring at the dead. The silence was broken by a man somewhere out of sight who began to scream without pause, as the eyes of a girl in front of him were fixed unblinking on the eyes of the dead face she stared into. Their pain lacerated his mind, like jagged shards of glass. Husbands, girlfriends, friends and family, untold lives had irrevocably changed by the terror that had manifested for a single moment. He could not help it, he pictured his little girl.

The air then throbbed with the thump of approaching vehicles. It was not long before sirens from above engulfed the cries of distress on the ground. Shouted orders were soon added to the discordance as police, troops and the Royal Guard poured into the avenue with their weapons trained.

He looked into Cameron’s glazed eyes through a cigar shaped tube of translucent red light that had surrounded the agent. Tian pulled a silver chain from inside his shirt, and, as his shiny identification badge came into view, he was also bathed in a red tube of light.

He ran a wet hand over his face and scratched his bearded cheek. As his breathing levelled out, he glimpsed into his punch drunk mind and found only incomprehension staring back at him.

~