The Great Burning (Part 1) [Edit 2/17]

The Great Burning

I

         The room stank. The large yet squat, domed building filled to capacity with the townspeople. Living, breathing… sweating, stinking. Jace cringed with the stench of the congregation as he wandered in. The whole town, all gathered tight together around the low fire smoldering in the center of the community building, as it was called. Various town meetings and celebrations were held in the large room, from birthdays, to weddings, to tonight’s more somber engagement. The buzzing of individual conversation was suddenly smothered as the only door to the lonely adjoining room creaked open loudly. All eyes turned to the ghostly figure, draped in dirty, ragged, white robes, back hunched with age; few were able to muster the strength to look into the eyes of the figure. Deep in the scarred, wrinkled face starred out two foggy eyes, white and sightless from his many years and horrors few others had the awful privilege of witnessing. Jace scanned the room of silent observers, most heads bowed in some kind of pseudo reflection; really they just couldn’t bear to stare into the sightless eyes of the Elder. He smirked to himself at their awkwardness; it’s not like the Elder would know if they looked anyways. Just as his mind began to contemplate the placement of the torches on the wall, he heard the shuffling of those distinctive, omnipresent robes as the Elder seated himself near the fire, visible to all in attendance. He took a deep, wheezing breath, and his eyes danced with the reflection of the low flames as he began the tale.

         “It was spring when it all started. Spring… Spring meant warmth, and sun. Spring meant… rebirth for the world. I was just a boy, barely ten years of age, when it came. First the scientists saw it, observing its slow movements through their giant magnifying lenses sweeping the stars. We heard rumblings of it on the news, in the papers. Most dismissed it, it wasn’t the first time celestial phenomena had startled the residents of our colorful planet. Yes, we all dismissed it, until we couldn’t anymore. Within a week of the first sightings there it was, staring down at us, a giant, black disc hanging in the sky above, dark and ominous. There was panic then. And anger. We had been warned but our naivete, or maybe our hubris, kept us from seeing the truth. Existence of these extraterrestrial visitors had been rumored for decades, but such undeniable proof had never been provided, until now. Our government, as I assume all governments at the time did, assured us of our safety. On every television broadcast, every radio frequency, their message of safety and hope permeated. We all waited, waited to see what our visitors would do, why they were here. All anyone saw, the only hint we had, was its constant, deliberate movement across the sky. There was talk of using nuclear weaponry against the visitor, bombs that could destroy any living creature on Earth, turning all those near its blast into ash in an instant of blazing light. It was deliberated, and eventually, fear conquered logic, and a plan was drafted detailing the launch of these weapons at the still unknown visitor.

         “The day came for the strike, multiple countries, all united in fear, each planning on unleashing their hellish payload. At the moment of the planned attack the unknown visitor revealed its true nature. I stood at my window, with my parents, watching the disc, as I assume most were that day. Maybe they were waiting for us to watch, for an attentive audience. No one could know. Without warning three large, red, triangle eyes appeared on the bottom of the disc staring down at us; the human race, insolent ants trying to save themselves from God. The coalition of governments tried to launch their tools of death, but it was found, much to their surprise, that their infinite power was useless. Weapons, from the lowest vehicle to the massive nuclear arsenals, by some kind of alien magic were rendered completely useless. No one could have imagined what happened next. Beams of heat began to shoot from those evil, all knowing eyes. Whatever the beams touched, building, vehicle, human, all were simply melted away into ash, from the outside in. After the rays of heat began their destruction the swarm emerged from the center of the disc, where all three eyes met; countless dots flying through the blue sky towards the planet. They bore into the ground upon impact and detonated, causing the ground to crack and shake relentlessly. Millions upon millions died. Entire cities and countries, beacons of the accomplishments of the great human race, destroyed before our very eyes. That was just the first day the eyes gazed upon us, the destruction would last another two. They were the longest three days any man had ever seen. The Great Burning. After three days of constant destruction, those malicious red eyes simply closed again, as suddenly as they had opened. The swarm had dispersed. The visitor was again a simple black disc, however, now we knew their purpose. In the midst of the destruction, the disc had continued its steady path and now it rested at the very edge of our sun. We watched in horror over the next week as it completed its journey, as our dark intruder covered, and completely blocked our life giving star. All that remained was a faint halo, reminding us of what once was.

         “Many died then. Without the light most of our crops faded and multitudes were lost to starvation. With the crops went our livestock. It took us many years to learn to cultivate the few nocturnal, but edible, plants we had available. Many simply couldn’t stand the loss, couldn’t stomach the dark and the grey. All the colors of the Earth, once vibrant and bold, reduced to mere shadows of what they once were. Without the light from the sun their exuberance diminished to nearly nothing, many days were just shades of grey. These people took their own lives out of desperation, out of the same fear that damned us in the beginning. But we survived. We would not forget, would not simply go away. Now we hold the strength of our ancestors, the only hope for our race. We must go on. This is why every month we retell the story of the coming, of the Great Burning. So we remember.”

         The Elder’s head dropped at the conclusion of his saga, beads of sweat visible on his brow, decrepit frame seeming almost lifeless; as if the words themselves were all that animated the withered bones. The room was completely devoid of any kind of noise, everyone stared breathlessly at the Elder. After a handful of long seconds the old man stirred and raised his blind eyes to stare sightlessly at the fire in front of him. “This concludes this month’s retelling. I wish you all safe travels to your dwellings. I must rest now. This new month will bring us greatness and prosperity I predict, we must begin early.” with that, and the aid of one of the nearby children, the Elder rose carefully to his feet and shuffled slowly back to the room from which he had emerged.

         Jace leaned against the outer wall taking in the monthly spectacle. He stood just under six feet tall with a slim figure and short, dark hair. Dressed in the simple brown pants and shirt, the common garb in town, he watched as the collection of his neighbors stood and began to file out of the community building as one mass. He stayed where he was, watching the coals in the center of the room die down, first an angry red glow, then to mere ash. He was the last one to leave, and even then, he wasn’t going home like the others. The story disturbed him; true, that was its purpose, to disturb and spur on a continued commitment to their continued existence, but to Jace, as it had for some time now, the story gave birth to a different mentality entirely. He yearned to see the sun, a bright world filled with color, of a civilization powered by a mystical force wired in to every building; a world of vehicles and structures that touched the sky, a world where being warm at night wasn’t a luxury. He dreamt and obsessed on thoughts of the past world as very few, if any, around him ever did. He felt alone, alone in the desire for something more. Jace stepped outside into the cold night air and gazed upwards, the tiny white stars the only light in the sky. Once there had been a moon, but the mythical white orb had been absent as long as the sun. He gazed at the stars for a moment, wondering if there were others like him somewhere left in the world. The town hadn’t had contact with any outsiders in decades, it was impossible to know if there were even any left outside of their small community.

         He shook the thoughts from his mind and turned down the dirt path to the east. He passed rows upon rows of small mud-brick houses, all faintly lit and filled with the sounds of his sleeping neighbors. As the Elder said, they had to start early, and everyone took his words to heart. The small town was constructed in the general shape of a wheel with the community building at its heart. The mushroom farms, along with those who tended them and the few hogs they managed to raise, were on the outskirts, with the main body of housing filling the space between the two. Tonight, Jace continued almost to the outer ring of farms, to one of the only leftovers from the bygone era that captured his imaginings. Once it may have towered above the surrounding structures, but now the single floor stone brick building sat dilapidated and worn; a testament to the past. This was where Jace spent most of his time anymore. He climbed the few stairs up to the rotted, wooden doors. They groaned with age as he pushed his way inside and gazed upon the treasures before him. Rows upon rows of dusty, book filled shelves filled the small building, between some sat long wooden tables with chairs to match. A wealth of knowledge about the past, yet Jace was the only caretaker. It was a rare, at best, to find another soul within these walls, but, Jace thought, it was probably better that way; the others didn’t seem to have the same respect for this, seemingly forgotten, temple of nostalgia. He lit a torch and pulled a familiar volume from the splintered shelf before sitting down and gingerly opening the tome. It held stories of gods and mortals, heroes and monsters; stories of great characters thriving and overcoming the darkest of situations. It was one of Jace’s most read books. He slowly thumbed through the pages, reading again the stories he had memorized long ago. As he continued to read, his lids became heavy and slowly began to close of their own volition. Minutes later, Jace was asleep on the wooden table, torch burning steadily, warding away the shadows.

         Jace stirred slightly, knocking the charred remnants of his torch to floor. He awoke with a start at the sudden noise and looked around to regain his bearings. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the library again, but it had been happening more frequently of late. The first thing to catch his eye was a bowl of mushroom stew set carefully near the edge of the table. He tentatively reached out for the still steaming bowl and took a slow, careful drink of its nearly scalding contents. Jace stood and walked groggily outside into the dismal grey of what passed for daylight, only to find his anonymous caretaker revealed. There he stood, long blonde hair moving with the wind, gazing up at the ever present black disc in the sky with his striking blue eyes.

         “Thought you’d never wake up,” Tyr said with a smirk. “Dad’s waiting, we got work to do.” With that he righted himself and started off leisurely down the path. Jace caught up quickly and matched his companion’s pace, still sipping gingerly at his stew. Tyr was like a brother to him; he stood four full inches taller than Jace and, having chosen to spend his spare time engaging in more physical activities around the town, he was much more athletic as well. His father, Gideon, had taken Jace in after his own parents had died, years ago now. He had raised Jace alongside his own son, and the two were almost inseparable. Gideon was one of the town’s only repairmen, or residential technician as he liked to say. He was responsible, almost solely, for the upkeep of the various buildings in town. If something needed to be fixed, he took care of it, with the help of his two sons, of course. Ever since Jace had been adopted Gideon had been training the boys in his craft, and now, with Gideon’s increasing age, the duo did most of the work

         “What’s on the agenda for today?” Jace asked as he finished his meal, slipping the empty bowl into a small pack Tyr had over his shoulder.

         “I guess the community building needs patched up a bit. The wind must have been something fierce last night because there’s a big hole in the northern wall, right next to the Elder’s quarters.” Jace and Tyr continued down the path when Jace noticed a group standing close, muttering in sad, hushed voices.

         “What’s that all about?” Jace asked, though such occurrences usually only meant one thing.

         “Last night we lost two more, Abe and Ruth, in their sleep from what I hear.” Tyr sighed loudly. “I guess they were found in bed this morning.”

         Abe and Ruth, Jace contemplated. They were a couple of farmers, off on the edge of town, but no one would ever think that they would expire so suddenly; they were strong, and not that old. It was an unfortunate loss of two good people.

         “That’s too bad,” he said somberly. The two spent the rest of the walk in a dark silence, each faced with the all too real burden of their own mortality.

         Jace and Tyr approached the community building and caught sight of Gideon, engaged in deep conversation with the Elder, presumably about the depressing events of this morning. Gideon was a stout man, blonde like his true son, but graying with age. He wore the same brown as everyone else, but had something resembling more a vest than an actual shirt.

         At the sound of their footsteps on the dirt path Gideon turned towards his two sons, “You two sure took your time; the north side is mess so you better get to it.” He nodded towards a gathering of large buckets and then returned to his conversation. Jace smiled inwardly at the manner of his adoptive father, always straight to the point, unwavering in his own way. The two boys took their father’s cue and, grabbing as many buckets as they could manage, began to make their way to the damaged wall. Jace glanced back at Gideon and the Elder as he picked up one of the full buckets only to find the Elder’s white eyes locked in his direction, almost staring directly at him. Jace quickly turned to follow Tyr around the building, trying to shake the unnerving, sightless stare.

         They reached the wall in question and Gideon hadn’t been exaggerating. The hole was roughly the size of Jace, and wide enough for both of the youths to walk through. Jace looked up in the sky where, instead of the fabled brightness of the sun, he saw the black disc surrounded by a vague, teasing halo of light. Judging by its placement, it was just before midday. The disc blocked almost all light and warmth from the life giving star, making everything a chilled shade of grey. Few trees could manage to grow in such an environment; therefore most of their repairs consisted of strategic placement of a special mud mixture. While the destroyed wall could be patched, it would take quite a bit of time. Tyr had already started the application, wholly consumed by his work, much like his father. Jace, on the other hand, stood and stared at the gaping hole.

         “How could the wind possibly cause something like this?” Jace asked, but Tyr was too consumed to take notice. This hole was too large to be caused by the wind, not to mention the location was hardly exposed to the elements with buildings close on the one side and the Elder’s quarters merely feet away. The Elder… Jace stepped next to Tyr and began his share of the work, still trying to shake the specter of that haunting stare.

         Hours later, the pair finally finished patching the wall. Muddied and tired, Tyr stood a few feet back judging the quality of their work with a practiced eye. After a few moments he turned and said,” It’ll work. I’m hungry, we should head home.” He grabbed some of the, now empty, buckets stacked nearby and started off. Jace’s eyes again found their way to the sky, as they always did. The black disc was now close to the horizon, signaling the coming of night. He grabbed the remaining buckets and followed Tyr towards their meager home.

         “Dad, we’re back.” Tyr called as they entered the small dirt dwelling. They were greeted with the smell of stew, which was unfortunately almost completely overwhelmed by the awful stench of burning pig manure, which they used as often as possible to save lumber.

         “It’s almost done, here, take these.” Gideon said as he held out a pair of bowls. Tyr took his and Jace retrieved his from that morning from the pack. They each, in turn, dipped their bowls into the battered pot and sat in the center of the room to enjoy their evening meal, trying to absorb as much warmth as they could while avoiding the awful smell.

         “Bad business, what happened to Abe and Ruth,” Gideon began between sips. “Things like this seem to be happening more and more often lately; good people meeting their end far too soon.” He shook his head and slowly lifted the bowl to his lips.

         “Do we know what happened?” Tyr inquired, his first serving nearly finished already.

         “I heard they died overnight, were found cold and stiff this morning.” Gideon continued his slow, deliberate drinks, almost as if to punctuate his sentences. “By the time I heard they had already been returned to the fields.” Returned to the fields, that was what they called it. Upon one’s death, instead of burning or simple burial in a marked grave, you were planted in the fields, used to fertilize the crops, or even fed to the pigs; serving the community, even in death. The rest of their bland meal was spent in silence, each lost in their thoughts.

         “Alright boys, stay out of trouble. I’m turning in.” Gideon said after staring at his empty bowl for some minutes. He stood stiffly and stretched his weary joints before making his way to the small adjoining bedroom, which they all shared. Jace and Tyr sat in the continued silence, each lost in the dwindling flames at the center of the room.

         “I think I’m going to out for a while.” Jace said, finally shattering the wall of silence. He stood and wrapped his torch in a fresh manure soaked cloth; disgusting, yet flammable, the foul substance burned as long as he would need without devouring the torch itself.

         “Be careful,” Tyr offered. He stared out over the small fire at a distant point in space with an incomprehensible yet disturbed look on his face.

         “I will.” Jace said. He turned and walked quickly down the familiar path, pulling a blanket tight around his shoulders to ward off the chill of the night air.

         Jace awoke with a start, having dozed again in the midst of his reading; however, this time he couldn’t pinpoint the reason. It was still too dark for morning and his torch was still burning. Then he saw it, opposite the door, a pair of luminous, dark green eyes looking directly at him; almost like the Elder had earlier. Jace stood slowly, the unknown intruder’s gaze never wavering. He carefully began to edge his way to the door, when it lunged. The unknown assailant had to have been a good head taller than Jace, and was wrapped in a dark fabric, but what grabbed his attention was the vicious looking blade held in the creature’s clenched fist, glimmering in the faint torchlight. Jace evaded quickly, out of reflex more than thought, and the unknown enemy flew, headfirst, into one of the fragile shelves, shattering it with the blow. Jace took off through the door and sprinted down the dirt path, trying with all he had to reach the sanctuary he called home. He burst in the door, lungs burning, heartbeat deafening in his ears.

         “Tyr, Dad?” There was no one in the main room, just the suffocating silence. Jace ran into the bedroom and got his answer. Gideon, the man who had taken him in, provided for him, raised him like his own son, the only father Jace knew; lay in a dark red puddle on the floor, torn, almost completely in half. Jace stared in shock at the gruesome sight so frozen in shock and fear that he didn’t hear the green eyed monster sneak behind him. The next thing he knew, a clothed arm, like iron, wrapped around his throat, immediately cutting off all air to his lungs. The last thing Jace saw, spots floating on the edges of his vision, was Gideon’s pain laced face staring up lifelessly from the floor. Then, everything went black.