001

Chapter One- A Different World

The pod thrashes about violently as it reenters the earths atmosphere. Inside the pod, two bodies brace for the impact. Returning from five years in space, doing research on Mars, Johan Kristmas and Saul Odadjian are eager to be back on the globe. They're strapped securely into their seats, perched directly across from each other. Steel walls are padded and everything is tightly bolted into place, very clean and official looking. Johan is the smaller of the two. His light blue eyes, long blonde hair and beard are evidence of his heritage, which is that of Germany and Holland. His face shows that he is in his early thirties despite the fact that his body is lean and muscular, that of a fir twenty year old. Standing around 5'9" and weighing no more then 180 pounds he is dwarfed considerably by his compadre, Saul. Saul is a large man, he is Johan's assistant. His red hair and green eyes are an odd match for his otherwise Armenian features. (His mother was Armenian and his father Irish.) His large frame (6'4'' 250 pounds) helps him carry the heavy equipment required in their studies. Saul is also younger then Johan, being in his late twenties. The rigidity of their bodies help with absorbing the impacts from the vibrating pod as it crashes and rattles like a bat out of hell through the earths thickening atmosphere. They hurtle ever closer to the thing they have been absent of for over five years. The smell of home in their nostrils, the touch of loved ones on their finger tips and the taste of great home cooking on their tongues.

Johan longs to see his wife Martina, and parents Frederick and Abigail. A vibrant young woman, Martina has long blonde locks, perfect pearly white teeth, deep blue cerulean eyes, flawless porcelain skin, long toned legs leading to a taut firm butt, a tight flat stomach, and perky round breasts. Johan has longed for the day, and even more so the night, that they would be reunited. She is his everything and he hers. Frederick and Abigal, are proud adoring parents who, from a young age, helped cultivate Johan's adventurous nature and have always supported his dreams and ambitions. Approaching earth, Johan is eager to settle down with his Martina and start building his own family in one of Boston's comfortable little suburbs.

Saul on the other hand doesn't have as much back home. The only person awaiting his return is his younger brother, Rory. Rory is six years younger then Saul and has always been his greatest fan and admirer. Their parents died suddenly when Saul was sixteen and Rory was ten. Through high school and college Saul supported them both by working odd jobs as a bouncer and bartender. Ever since, Rory holds a type of reverence towards his big brother, acting as if he is permanently in debt and eternally unworthy of his brothers love or attention or even a petty kind acknowledgement.

The two had met while Saul was attending college on the same campus Johan was busy working as an intern in the space lab of Brown University. They eventually became partners in a new exploration mission to Mars. Despite their personalities being almost the complete opposite, they work exceptionally well together. On one hand, Johan is quietly intelligent, baring a calm temper and serene, observing eyes that are always thinking and calculating in order to make sense of everything around him. His final actions only came after much deliberation by viewing all possible outcomes.  Saul on the other hand, while also being a kind and moral person, has a short temper, fitting for his Irish blood. His intelligence comes more as quick practical cleverness making him great at making decisions on the fly. Improvisation is one of most unique character strengths.

Peering down through the glass porthole in the floor, Johan can see the ocean hurtling towards him. Only it looks odd, not as he remembers. It is a deep gray, not the brilliant blue that he so vividly remembers. But maybe the recollection of it being so brilliant was coming from his intense fondness for it. Another strange oddity is the lack of any traveling or fishing vessels.

Even closer now, they await their impact, which evidently will be in the ocean, not far from the coast. But who knows what coast? They both pray its not on the beaches of some war torn country in Africa or the Middle East, or a secluded jungle in South America. The quickest possible route back into his lovely Martina's arms is the route Johan wants to travel.

The time has now finally come and the pod is ready for impact. Johan and Saul clench their fists, close their eyes, and tense their muscles to a state of metallic rigidity. As the pod hits the ghostly grey water, it becomes fully submerged for a few seconds. As they bob back to the surface, the pod hatch unseals with a hiss and releases a small inflatable sailing into the froth. The bindings imprisoning the two loosen allowing them to pull themselves free and climb out of the hatch into dusty, stale smelling air. Taking his first big breath of earth air, Johan climbs out into the masked sunlight. Saul then climbs through and turns to his friend.

"Where do you suppose we are?"

"Im not sure, lets head to shore and find out. I can see the coast but its doesn't look like much is there," a small shred of concern in his voice.

He climbs out of the hole and into the raft. Saul follows close and the raft rocks to the side from his superior weight. Johan unclips a small hasp and produces two small paddles, handing one to Saul, they begin to paddle.

The murky gray water spirals as their paddles cut through it. The only thing visible on the horizon is a small line of coast directly before them. No ships, no sails, no masts. Nothing. A strange feeling comes up in Johan's stomach telling him that something isn't right. The coast draws nearer, displaying a grey landscape absent of much color or even life. The silhouettes of buildings begin to become visible. Some are crooked, some crumbling, many completely demolished. An epic ghost town straight out of a Louis L'Amour novel.

"What the f**k," Saul mumbles drawing Johan's attention.

"Where are we?"

"Maybe the Middle East?"

"I don't know. It is sandy but the hills in the distance are covered in snow. So I don't think we're in the Middle East," Johan reasons.

"I guess we'll just have to wait until we get there."

As they pull up to the apparitional city, no forms of life seam visible. Only spooky stone buildings looming above them and dust blowing in the wind. They tie up to an old steel pier so Saul hauls himself up and gives Johan a hand afterwards as he clutches tightly at his paddle.

"Why you keeping that?"

"You never know," Johan says coldly. With the paddle resting over his shoulder they stroll into the abandoned city streets. Cars dot the pavement, Looking as if they have been frozen in time.

"What do you think happened here?" Saul looks around in awe, "a battle?"

"It looks like something else to me. There wouldn't be so many cars in the streets if a battle took place here. No strewn bodies, no scorch marks or bullet holes." Saul approaches the open window of a random car and immediately jumps back in astonishment. They both peer quickly through window again to find a family of four skeletons locked in an unending drive to junior's soccer practice, or the grocery store or some other now insignificant event.

"Nuclear holocaust," Saul's mouth drops open.

"Jesus Christ, where the hell are we? This place doesn't look like the target of a bomb strike, it's too... too Western."

As they continue further into the maze of buildings, Johan gets the strange feeling that they are being watched. The wind blows in their faces filling their nostrils with the stench of sour mold and rotting death. They walk into a small alley, still somewhat in a daze and are startled as they come face to face with a skinny, disheveled dog. Its matted fir, where still intact, is grey, shaggy, and caked with filth. Its beady red eyes lock onto Johan and Saul and its muscles lock into place, almost as if waiting for a command. In the next second, from another small alley, emerges the first human they've seen in over five years. The figure is a dark skinned man with a small frame, shaggy black hair, black eyes, and chiseled thin arms. In his grimy right hand he grips a shabby old kitchen knife. He looks like something out a horror movie, or Cormac McCarthy's dark mind.

"Looks like we got us some prey," the thin man cackles in an accent neither of them are familiar with. The dog whimpers then growls and slowly begins its approach. Johan glances at Saul and readies himself with the raft paddle.

"Where are we?" Johan asks in a worried voice.

"Where are ya? You're in hell my friends, take a look around and nuthin' here but death and wreck."

"Who are you?" Saul cuts in.

"Me? What's 'at matter? What is a name anyways? Im just another murderin' plunderin' madman. What else do ya need to know?" he flashes a black toothed grin.  Stepping forward, humming a demented tune and twirling the blade between his fingers the ruffian takes the offensive. The dog also crouches and braces itself for an attack. Johan, being the smaller of the two, is the dogs easiest target. The dog bounds forward with its teeth bared. Clutching the paddle behind his head like a baseball bat, Johan steadily watches the dog hurdle in his direction. Now within a few feet, Johan swings the paddle from left to right in a horizontal motion. The thin side of the paddle connects to the neck of the dog, bringing forth an anguished yelp.

Saul takes a step backward as the armed man charges him. The crazy man stops directly before him and balances the knife in his hand, almost as if to toy with him. He gives Saul a taunting face and slashes forward with the blade. Parrying to the side, Saul punches the man in the face which, due to the size advantage, makes the assailant stumble greatly. The grease ball stands up right and shakes the hit off, anger flashes in his eyes.

"Enough f****n' around."

Johan stands over the bloodied dog as its breathing becomes weak and broken. Hearing his friend struggle, he turns to aid Saul. Their small attacker is slashing violently for Saul's guts with rage in his eyes. Becoming ever more frustrated, the man grips the knife hilt for a stab and thrusts it downward. With his back against the bricks, Saul has no choice but to put his arms up in defense, but the blade still connects to flesh, creating a small puncture in his shoulder, directly under his collarbone. Seeing his partner hurt, Johan sprints forward and wraps his arms around the mans neck. The blade stays in Saul's shoulder as Johan drags the man off of him. The scrappy small man kicks and spits and swears numerous obscenities. Johan holds him tight in a rock hard sleeper hold as the grimy body slowly goes limp. He lets go, out of breath and stunned. Remembering where he is, Johan sprints to his wounded friend.

"Goddamnit! Where the hell are we? Are you okay?"

"F****n' christ," Saul pulls the blade from his throbbing shoulder, "we gotta find help."

"I don't know how many friendly people we're gonna find here."

Johan removes his grey NASA sweatshirt and fashions a crude sling for Saul's shoulder. Saul cradles his left arm inside it and slowly stands. They begin to move on when Saul pauses. He walks back to the knife, picks it up and strolls to the unconscious man. Leaning down, he draws the blade across the KO'd mans neck. Blood gurgles out in a crimson cascade.

"P***y," Saul snorts and spits a wad on the rapidly dying body.

"We need to find someone to help you with that wound, it won't take very long for it to get infected."

"What are the chances we find any friendlies in these parts?"

"Well, we need to try, and it would help if we could find out where we are."

"What are the chances any of these work?" Saul walks to an old pay phone and picks up the receiver. As he puts it to his ear he shakes his head in disappointment. Turning back to Johan he hangs his head, half from anxiety, half from the throbbing pain in his shoulder.

Strolling along the cracked pavement, all that is around them begins to really sink in. Crumbling stone buildings surround them with giant holes in the walls, many missing their roofs all together. The once green hills in the distance are now painted a sad grayish yellow and the trees that are actually left standing are completely dead and leafless. Large mountains to the north and south are covered in veils of gray snow. A world once so green now so gray. As the sun begins to set, the sound of gun fire rings out in the far distance. Johan and Saul glance at each other nervously.  The coldness in the air is becoming ever more severe but thankfully Saul doesn't notice due to the protection of the thermal NASA sweatshirt and insulated jeans. But Johan, who gave up his sweatshirt to make Saul's sling, is beginning to shiver.

"Here, take this back its getting cold."

"No Im fine, and you need it."

"Don't be a damn martyr, I can see you shivering," he tosses the shirt to Johan. Lifting his own sweatshirt and holding it up beneath his chin, he makes a cut in his undershirt with the stolen knife and tears off a long piece of white cotton. He tucks the knife back into his belt, lets his sweatshirt fall free, and begins to fashion an even cruder sling using his good right arm and his teeth. After about five minutes of gnawing and pulling, he looks at the sling with approval and throws it over his right shoulder, allowing his left arm to gently lay across his torso. Saul begins to chuckle.

"Good as new. And I can stop listening to you shiver."

"Lets keep going, we need to find someone who can help us."

"Johan, do you think something has happened? Like something really catastrophic. Something we would never have been able to foresee."

"I don't know. Lets go."

Saul drops his head in disgust and follows his melancholy friend. They take another couple steps when something causes them to freeze in their tracks. It's a voice. A loud, booming, serious voice from a man who clearly means business evident by the absence of any hesitation in his command.

"Halt! Don't move, who are ya?"

Johan and Saul freeze and turn to the Scottish accent to see who has found them. Standing fifty yards to their rear, three silhouettes stand confidently in the dusk light. The first is slightly forward with the other two flanked behind him. A brown, wooden stalked hunting rifle with a scope is clutched in his hand and is aimed directly at them while the other two are armed with shotguns which they hold militarily across their chests.

"Put yer arms in the air. Where we can see em," the man in the front calls out once again, Johan and Saul obey.

"We're not armed," Johan replies sternly.

"Where the hell did you boyo's come from? Ya sound American."

"Well that would make sense, because we are."

"Walk to us. Don't try anythin' stupid." He holds his close aim on them. Johan and Saul hesitantly walk to the armed men and wait to see what sick twisted fate awaits them.

"We have no time to talk here, it's too dangerous," the leaders says to them.

"Try anythin' stupid, 'n' I'll fill ya with buckshot," the largest one in back grunts.

"I'm Seamus Reed," the leader reaches out to shake their hands, "big man is Fergus O'Flaherty and he's Liam, me son."

Seamus is a fairly friendly looking man with white hair and tick beard. His eyes are as green as the hills once were and his teeth have turned a light yellow. Standing at Johan's height, he looks to be in his mid 50's. The weapon of choice for Seamus is an old Browning .308 lever action rifle.

Fergus is a hulking man, even larger then Saul, with crew cut red hair and bushy sideburns. His eyes are bright blue and his teeth are rotten with far and few between. His demeanor is rather dopey but friendlier now that they have registered as friendlies. He clutches at a black Benelli 12 gauge, semi automatic typically a standard police issue weapon.

The third member, Liam, is very young, no older then twenty with bushy red hair, clean shaved face, and deep blue cold looking eyes. An old WWII trench gun is locked in his youthful clutch.

"I am Johan Kristmas, and this is Saul Odadjian," Johan shakes his hand in return, "can you tell us where we are Seamus?"

"My friend, yer in Edinburgh. Or wha' twas Edinburgh. Trus' me I have much to ask from yer too bu' tis aint safe. Follow us and we can fill each other in,"

"You boyo's aint from 'round here are ya?" Fergus chuckles.

"No," Johan and Saul grumble simultaneously as they walk into the night.

The night is eerily quiet. A quiet that is only synonymous with death and complete nothingness. No crickets chirp from their meadows, no dogs bark at oddly moving shadows. No echo of machines or hum of human life, just empty, inhuman void.

The vastly clear night sky has become extremely bright with stars and the haunting presence of the moon. They stroll out from the cluster of crumbling brick buildings and into the rolling hills that were once in the distance. With each step they take, the dead yellowish gray grass turns to dust and is whisked away in a continuous gentle breeze. Leaving the destroyed city behind, they are now in the middle of a hilly wasteland, dwarfed by two high mountain ranges on either side of them, making them seem even more insignificant. As they continue to walk, Seamus stops dead in his tracks and brings the rifle to his shoulder.

"Shh, don't move," Seamus whispers.

Silently, he kneels for better support and then slowly squeezes the trigger. A loud crack splits the silence followed in the same nanosecond by the lever action ejecting a shell and replacing it with a fresh one sending numerous echoes reverberating off of the mountains faces around them.

"Gettem?" Fergus whispers.

"Mhm."

"What was it?" Saul asks Seamus.

"Damn wolfbear."

"A what?" Johan sounds dumbfounded to which Seamus replies with a nod and signals for them follow him as he briskly trots down the hill, dead grass crumbling around him.

Lying face down in the gulch before them is a figure both Johan and Saul have never seen before. It has gray fur and pointed ears with the head of a dog connected to a long neck joining hulking, muscular, almost human-like shoulders. The body of the beast has long front legs with hand-like paws. Powerful back legs are squat and compact, perfect for jumping. All Johan can think of to classify it as is a werewolf.

As they circle around it, Fergus immediately pulls a knife from his belt and begins to gut the animal. In seconds, a pile of steaming entrails sits next to the hulking animal. Fergus hoists the body and ties it behind him in order to easily drag it to their destination.

"All set, lets get on back."

Again back on the move, they trudge up a steep embankment. As they crest the hill before them an astonishing site befalls their eyes. Tucked safely under a sheer rock ledge are the ruins of a once great and mighty Scottish castle. All that stands now is one gigantic castle turret, although now it hardly looks like something out of the middle ages. The turret is surrounded by piles of rocks from the demolished castle and mounds of improvised sandbags.

"Home sweet home." Fergus chuckles and jogs down the incline with his load still strapped to his back. They draw closer to the castle and both Johan and Saul are in awe of what they are looking at. The large stone turret towers over them at least seven stories into the sky, an ominous and arcane sight to behold.

Now completely in its shadow, Seamus reaches into his pocket and strolls to the large wooden slab of a door. Producing a key from his parka, he slides it into the slot and turns it with a loud click. The large barrier swings open, spilling forth an ocean of light out on to the gravel around their feet. Two bodies stir from inside and Seamus enters followed by Liam and then Fergus. Saul looks at Johan as if to tell him to go first, with a deep breath Johan steps into the light followed lastly by the nervous and trembling Saul.

The walls around them are strung with old Christmas lights which illuminate the round room. Old rickety beds line the walls all the way around, and two beds even contain occupants who sit up to rub their eyes from a restless sleep. The two are both young ladies. The oldest of the two has brilliant red hair with eyes of emerald green. Her thin satin face is very attractive which is surprising considering she appears to have just awoken and any line of makeup just doesn't exist. Her age is probably nineteen or twenty as her thin, feminine body is covered only by a white tank top and red boy shorts which give way to surprisingly clean shaved legs. The second girl is in her early to mid teens. Her raven black hair and porcelain skin give her a ghostly and mysterious aura. Serene and thoughtful expressions dot her face accentuated by magical black eyes. Her striking beauty oozes with a raw sexual presence despite her young age.

"Welcome to Edinburgh Castle," Fergus drops the carcass and spreads his arms wide as if to behold something much greater then what really was. The redhead looks at the new arrivals with concern.

"Who are they?"

"This is Johan an' Saul, we met 'em in the wastes o' the city. Hell if I know where they came from," Seamus replies.

"It's good to meetcha," Johan puts out his hand to the young lady. She shakes both of their hands but an odd, unexplainable energy keeps her hand locked in Saul's for an extra couple seconds.

"Meet my lovely daughters, Aileana," the redhead, "and Torri," the young raven haired girl.

"Honored," Johan nods his head and Seamus ushers them to an old oak table surrounded by chairs.

"Come now, sit sit, we both have things we want to know. Fergus can skin the beast while we connect all these dots."

Johan pulls up a chair and Saul hastily does the same. Seamus sits across from them with Liam at his side while Aileana takes up an empty seat next to Saul. Torri sits on her bed with her knees pulled up to her chest while Fergus begins to disembowel the wolfbear. Johan begins the discussion.

"Okay, so first off. Where are we? What happened here?"

"Boyo, you're in Edinburgh Scotland, or thats what it was once known as. Where did ya boyo's come from? The whole world be lookin' like this I 'magine."

"We're American," Johan breathes deep, "what happened to the world?"

"War, greed, paranoia, ignorance. Thats what happened to the world," Fergus pulls his head away from the bloody mess on the floor.

"Granted, but it was tha nukes that turned it into this mess. Where have ya been? Three years ago the American government got so paranoid of Iran and North Korea that they became irrational. Confusion followed an' the rest is hist'ry. Bombs landing all about the world. Not much left bu' random survivors, high radiation levels, and radiation altered animals," Seamus explains, "now please tell us, where'n the hell yer boyo's come from?"

"This may sound crazy but....." Johan breathes in again, "space."

Silence falls in the room as everyone seams to have lost their breath so Saul decides to fill them in.

"We were on Mars doing research for more then five years. We just got back from our mission."

"I see," Seamus ponders, "where in the states are yer from?"

"Boston. But we work out of Washington D.C.," Johan answers as Aileana gasps a little, muffling it quickly, "What?"

"D.C. was tha epicenter of tha attacks. Tha's the worst place to be right now. The radiation turned some of the exposed into a sort o' monster. Mutilated humanoids, raping and killing all those that were uninfected. Even most of tha uninfected have turned to bandits and raiders to survive. They say no good hearted people are left," Seamus fidgets uncomfortably.

"Martina, Ma and Da."

"Maybe they found a way out," Saul grips Johan's shoulder as he slams his fist down on the table causing dust to fall around them.

"Yer had loved ones there then?" Seamus looks upon Johan with worry.

"My wife! My mother and father!"

"My brother."

"I don' know what ter say, I know how it feels. My wife died in the explosions. Im just happy I still have my Liam, Alieana, and Torri."

"What are we gonna do Saul?"

"What can we do man?"

"Find a boat, something to get back and find answers. We have to try I can't live with the doubt."

"There aint no runnin' ships anywhere 'round here. Trust us, we've explored all over these here parts," Seamus shoots down his idea.

"I say we stay and establish a new life here."

"I have to try," Johan storms to the door but is cut off my Fergus.

"Take this," Fergus hands him an old WWII Luger, "you'll need it."

Johan takes the gun and disappears into the night. Saul is left alone with their rescuers when Alieana looks at him and notices the knife hole and blood spot on his sweatshirt.

"You're hurt, let me tend to you."

"I'm fine."

"Don't be a fool, it could get infected. Take off you shirt and go lay down on that bed. I'll stitch you up." 

Knowing she's right, Saul stands and removes his sweatshirt followed by the ripped t-shirt. His phenomenally fit and rugged physique makes Alieana blush a little, Torri just blinks and looks in the other direction. He walks to the bed and lays down on his back. Seamus, Fergus, and Liam begin to haul the carcass and scraps outside.

"We'll be back boyo, just got to package up this meat," Seamus assures him and they exit the room.

Alieana wets her hands and takes out a pair of rubber gloves which she pulls on with a snap. Producing bottle of rubbing alcohol, she dumps a few drops of it into a clean white rag. Gently, she begins to dab the wound and Saul cringes from the stinging sensation.

"You're wound isn't too bad, no vitals hit or anything, just a flesh wound. You'll be all set in a couple days," she smiles into his eyes.

"Thank you," Saul smiles back.

From an old red medicine chest, Alieana takes a small needle tethered to a transparent thread. She holds it in her right hand between her thumb and forefinger. Placing her left hand on his right pectoral for support, she draws the needle to the wound. Weaving it back and forth at the mouth of the laceration, she pulls the open wound shut as Saul's teeth grind through the ordeal.

"You're all set. Lemme get an ace bandage and I'll tape it up."

She stands and takes a bundle of gauze and roll of medical tape from the same red nurses chest. Folding the gauze into a square, she places it over the seeping wound and tapes it into place to prevent any more bodily fluids from escaping the wound. Even now he feels the tightness created from the injury.

"Thank you," Saul grasps her hand, "you're a fine nurse."

"Oh you're charming. Now get some rest," she nervously pulls her hand away and dims some of the lights. In no time at all Saul is sleeping soundly.

Author's Note

Always looking suggestions and advice.