ganymede rising
by Jonathan Shepherd
EPISODE 13
She crouched down, panting like a dog, and brushed sweat-soaked
red hair out of her eyes. From the shadows her dirty naked body heaved
and her eyes darted about wild with fear. She could still hear the
howling of the creatures in the distance, like fingernails scratching
metal and deep mournful crying. Around her the world had lost all color.
She couldn’t remember why she was here and could barely remember who she
was. All she knew now was the fear. Her body ached with exhaustion and
trembled in the chill of the bleak stale air.
She was in some kind of ruined citadel. Through the holes in the great
metal structure she could see the mangled landscape dotted with broken
rock and architecture, after ducking into this building she had finally
found a place to hide from the things that hunted her. They had already
caught her once, and one of them had tore away at her left leg. Somehow
the wounds had healed, but the pain lingered. How had she gotten away?
Her thoughts fought for clarity but the fear continued to pound away at
the inside of her skull. She would have to just wait here and hide.
Where was she running?
She closed her eyes for a moment and felt some relief. She was supposed
to be warning someone about something… something about a shipwreck? A
great ball of ice floating in the sky was in her mind, and a hammer of
darkness slamming the side of it.
Then the low growling of a beast snapped her awake. They were here.
Great muscled black wolves with deep red eyes and razors were teeth
should be. Their hair was matted and bristled in anger. She had feared
wolves since she was a child, and her father had always assured her that
they were noble animals and there was nothing to be afraid of. He had
never seen wolves like this.
They leapt at once, all ten of them, and tore at her body like sharks.
Her screams echoed through the great metal ruins and fell to a low
gurgling. When the beasts left her broken body she lay there until her
wounds again disappeared, smelling of dirt and blood and sweat. Shaking
with phantom injury she lifted her head a few inches off the ground and
listened for the howling to begin again…
***
“We have to get out of here!” Jenna rubbed her eyes with the palms of
her hands and took a deep breath. “Chaplain hasn’t called and Tanya
could still be out there somewhere. It isn’t right just to not do
anything!”
“Chaplain will call. We just have to be patient.” Edward tried to muster
up his most soothing voice. “And if Tanya is still… if she’s out there
somewhere we have to assume she can take care of herself. She wouldn’t
want us to jeopardize everything to come looking for her.”
“Yeah, but shouldn’t we look out for our own?” Alex’s voice sounded
tired. He took a sip out of the orange soft drink he was holding and
leaned back in his chair. “I understand that the forces we’re dealing
with are bad… but if they were as bad as you guys are saying shouldn’t
they have taken us all by now?”
“It isn’t just the forces we know about,” said Jonas, “but the allies
they have under their influence. There is still the fear that the
Consulate has been infiltrated, remember?”
“Well, if we don’t hear from anybody in another day or two I’m going to
take action. I can’t take it anymore. I have to find out what happened
to Tanya. She’s our friend for God’s sake!” Jenna said.
“Please, Jenna, give it just a little more time.” Edward said. “Chaplain
won’t leave us hanging long. He never has. I’m just as worried as you
are, but we need more information before we do anything. We can’t go
into this like that. Jonas is right about the powers we are fighting
against. They are intelligent and cruel and they’ll jump at our mistakes
before we even know we’ve made them. Just please, wait with us for a
little longer.”
The room fell silent. It was a cheap economy motel and they had gotten a
room with two double beds. The heater blew stale air that smelled like
tobacco smoke and liquor and sex up under the curtains and made them
wave gently.
Jenna started to cry. She pushed her face into a pillow and her back
raised up and down convulsively. Edward reached over and brushed her
shoulder. As if on queue, his communicator sounded.
Everyone started and looked at him expectantly.
“Secure channel,” he said, “everybody be quiet.”
He pressed the button that would accept the call and a scratchy signal
came through.
“Edward? It’s Chaplain.” He said. “I’m sorry to have been gone so long.
Where can I meet you and the others?”
“We’re so glad to hear your voice! We’re at the Rest-Time Lodge near the
airport. Room 127. When can you get here?”
“I’m on my way.”
***
“Get up.” The woman shifted her weight from one long vinyl booted leg to
the other and looked down at the man on the floor. “We have work to do.”
“I-I didn’t r-realize it was so close…” the man’s voice came muffled
from his prostrate position. “The Dark… it’s almost here?”
“I said get up.” She glared down at him, her eyes glittering in the dim
light. “The Dark is indeed upon us, Brandt, and we need you to be strong
and aware.”
“Y-yes Mistress.” The bald man pushed himself up from the floor to face
her. He also stole an occasional nervous glance over at the cocoon-like
machine in the center of the chamber. Strange tracheal tubes hung
attached to the ceiling and floor like a web of intestines, a sick
yellow glow pulsed softly.
“I need for you to tell Senator James that it’s almost time. In less
than a month our resources will be gathered and we will be ready for the
Coming.”
“How m-much less, Mistress?”
“No more than twenty days. Now go. You can tell him it was me who sent
you.”
“Yes Mistress. Yes.” He turned to walk out and was distracted
momentarily by a blinking light on the cocoon.
The woman closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She ran her long
sharp-looking fingers up her body and across her neck. Her hairless head
made circles in the air and her knees bent slightly.
A quiet moan of pleasure escaped her lips. “They’re ravaging her again.
Her suffering is… exquisite.”
Brandt looked on in silent wonder and backed slowly away.
“The sensitives are like ambrosia… and eventually they always break…”
She walked over to the machine and looked down at the red headed woman
curled up in it like an embryo. “Fear causes suffering that continues
far longer than pain, and with one who broadcasts as loudly as this one,
I almost don’t want her to break.”
Bowing his head solemnly, Brandt remained silent and eventually turned,
unnoticed, to leave.
“I’m afraid she’ll get used to running and hiding over and over, though,
and the fear will lose it’s intensity.” The vinyl clad woman ran her
hands along the cocoon and pressed buttons and adjusted dials. “Perhaps
it needs to be a little colder… and there need to be more wolves.”
