When The Angels Came - Chapter I: A Road To Somewhere New

A Chapter by DeusExMachina

Hopefully this is as epic as I wanted it to be.

WHEN THE ANGELS CAME

By Zach S. Rumfitt

I am black, I am white,

I am sickness, I am blight,

I am anger, I am hate,

I am the end, I am your fate.

- Attributed to Anrihama Exodus, 345 BH

Prologue

HE boy ran along the river bank, his bare feet kicking up the red dust and swirling it in tiny tornadoes of dirt that carouselled in the mid-day air. His face was a picture of youthful happiness, of a mind unconcerned with the problems that lurked in the world about him.

It was an above-average day, the heat a notch more than normality, and the zebra flies were out to mate. They careered excitedly around, hunting for females with hungry little eyes. The boy chased them around in spirals laughing as they zipped away from him on transparent wings.

The river was calm, and the lush trees to the boy’s left swayed with the faintest hint of a breeze. Somewhere near a bird started to sing, a sweet, happy melody. It played in the sky and smiled all on its tune, carrying across the river on that slight wind.

The boy’s name was Lahmin Bekdaro, and right then he knew he was the happiest boy alive. He didn’t care for the earthly dilemmas that faced his Ma, all he cared for was the sun that shone in the sky above. As long as that was there, he knew everything was alright.

He did not notice the man before it was too late. Well, it looked like a man, but what makes a man? Humanity is what makes him, and whatever this was, there was no humanity of any earthly kind beating in what was, perhaps, a heart. It was standing on the edge of Lahmin’s vision, watching from the cover of the shade beneath the trees. The moment it knew the boy had seen it; it shifted with some unholy power. It moved into the boy’s path, though its legs had not taken a single step. Confused, Lahmin skidded to a halt, terror starting to creep into the edges of his brilliantly white eyes.

The man-thing smiled at him crookedly, then proceeded to open his mouth wider, wider, his jaw unlocking like a snake’s. It looked like some miserable screaming ghost, his teeth twisting into fangs dripping with corrosive poison. Then it roared, a beast from the depths of purgatory, splitting Lahmin’s fragile little ear-drums. He saw, in the second before he turned tail and fled, straight into the depths of this thing’s eyes. Straight into its twisted soul, and he saw the absolute evilness that lay there. It scarred his brain forever.

Then Lahmin was away, running as fast as his legs would carry him. He needed to warn the village, to tell them of what he’d seen...

He didn’t know it then, but he’d seen the first of what would become known as ‘The Husk’.

* * *

...The Kanbia was a small, prosperous country in the west of Afrik, not a world player by any means, but a little sparkling gem that was becoming more and more noticeable on the stage of politics. Its people were not rich, but they were a hard-working race, and so the smoky factories that littered the cities had a growing output of Baobab and other expensive materials that were then transported into the sky cities.

It’s President, Mr. Manika Gedradin, had grand ideas for his little land. He had good allies in the Oriont, allies that were sympathetic towards any plight they might have, and allies that piled them with money when the occasion arised.

The sky-cities above where the white men lived were less sympathetic, however. They were too pre-occupied with good looks and riches, and only a few took it upon themselves to give their vast wealth to a good cause.

But this was all before the coming of ‘The Husk’, as they were called by the humans. A little boy was attacked by one on the river bank, and managed to tell his story to his village. They’d found him, deafened and bleeding, crying about some kind of monster. They soon realised when more attacks occurred that he spoke the truth.

The humans had no idea what ‘The Husk’ were. What they managed to find out (or, to put it better, what they thought they had) was that they were shape shifters, that they killed you and took your form. Your face, your memories, your loves, hates, hopes, dreams and fears. They infiltrated into your life and use everyone and everything you know to their own ends. Of course, we know that this was fear and propaganda, although it is understandable that an attack, seemingly unprovoked, would bring out the paranoia in anyone.

In a day after the first sighting, they were everywhere. The capital of Bamju fell in just under three hours, the President’s form stolen by, reportedly, over fifty of ‘The Husk’.

Those of the humans who managed to make it to the escape rockets found the white people of the sky cities refusing to let give them asylum, for fear of either over-population or simply the fact that they were, as Mr. Madink Gerryla, a writer and philosophist of great repute, put it: “stuck up, pale skinned, rich b******s”. (Mr. Gerryla was later killed when the rocket he was travelling on crashed into the ocean as it could not build up the velocity to enter space. His journal was found in the wreckage, in a safe, and is now displayed in The Museum of Old Earth in Newak, Ameraka).

The rockets, eight in all and full with just over half of the population of The Kanbia and a quarter of the population of its surrounding country, Cenagal, left without a destination, but in the hope that they could make the entry out of the atmosphere and from then on make it to one of the closer celestial bodies in the solar system (perhaps the Moon, Venus or Mars) and set up an inhabitable base there. The rockets carried gear for enclosed bases with them that folded out easily, although these were not entirely reliable.

Five of the craft made it into space. Of the other three, one crashed into the ocean, while the others burnt up when their shielding failed as they attempted to leave Earth’s atmosphere.

The five rockets set course for Mars, although it is not known why this choice was made, and began to prepare to set up what they planned to call ‘New Afrik’ there.

- Taken from The Coming by Makita Monarma

I- A Road to Somewhere New

Three Months Later

HE rocket’s engines blasted heat into the freezing nothingness of space, their endless plasmatic reactions booming silently. Inside the ship’s body, the men and women and children waited impatiently, as they had done for the past half a year. In these crampt enclosed spaces they had grown closer to each other, made friends and lovers that they would never have know if not for the coming.

Lahmin sat with three other children his age, laughing like all of this was normal. His ears had been repaired by doctors, and although the metallic contraptions they’d jammed into his head hurt, it was a small price to pay for the ability to hear again. He’d received much praise from the elders for his bravery in alerting them about ‘The Husk’, although he had no real idea of the scale of what he had done.

“So, what do you think Mars will be like?” said Famina, a pretty young girl, with a curious smile. Lahmin returned the gesture and answered, although he really had no idea.

“I think it will be paradise” he said, with a good deal of conviction that would be uncommon for any seven year-old, but for these children they had found the need to grow up fast.

“Old Earth was paradise”, spat Makammad, “or at least it would have been if not for the damned white.” They all had a particular hatred of the white people for barring them aid and asylum while they toiled to make them their baobab and balsa for little payment, but Makammad was particularly bitter. His parents had been separated from him and ended up on another rocket, one of the ships that burnt up while attempting to leave the atmosphere.

“We have no old Earth now. What is gone is gone. We must look to the future”, said Famina in a rare display of intellect. Most of the time it was either love or ponies, or occasionally both, with her.

“New Earth. New Afrik. New Kanbia.” Spoke a quiet voice. It was Jemania, the last of the four children. She was quiet and reserved, the thoughtful one, as it were. Perhaps this was due to the hideous burns she’d acquired on her face in the escape from Earth, as a pot of boiling water was spilled all over her. The doctors had predicted death, but due to some miracle beyond all earthly understanding she had lived. Lahmin supposed this had made her the way she was.

“Maybe Allah sent this as a chance for us to start anew. Maybe we have witnessed judgment day, and it is us who have passed into paradise?” She continued. Makammad huffed in anger at this.

“Are you saying that my parents were bad people, little gnat?” He snarled, his voice betraying his anger.

“Lord Allah moves in his own ways.” Said Jemania matter-of-factly, sounding like one of the preachers that used to stand in the market squares shouting their opinions out into the world. Lahmin himself did not have much of a care for religion, save for that it seemed to only cause trouble. But he did not voice his thoughts allowed as his friends began a tiresome, ancient argument that seemed to be started anew every day. It was an interesting thought though. Where ‘The Husk’ really sent as a test for humanity? Where they, far from being the demons everyone thought them to be, actually the angels? An army of angels sent to sort the good from the bad? It amused him to think of such things from time to time. The road was long and all people needed something to occupy them.

“Please be quiet”, groaned Famina, “can’t we talk about something else? What about ponies?”

“No!” said everyone together.

“Anything but ponies, please!” Added Makammad, finally allowing some happiness into his voice.

“But I like ponies. Ponies are good”, argued Famina.

“All the ponies are probably dead, Famina. We didn’t bring any with us.” Said Lahmin apologetically.

They fell into silence, listening to the hustle of the ship, the throbbing of the engines and the chatter that came through on the radio comms. Sometimes it was nice to do this, to just stop and listen to the living, metal world that moved around them.

Sometimes it was nice to forget.

The rockets made their way across the vastness of space, their inhabitants attempting to live life normally. But they knew that, back on Earth, their homes were now being lived in by what they thought to be some kind of demonic race, a group of beings so evil that the sky turned black at their breath. The reality was as far from that as possible.

The rocket landed on Mars half a Terran year after it left, and the base was set up on its deep, red, rocky surface. The population thrived like they had before, enjoyment seeping back into their hearts. For a while they even thought they had found peace.

But paradise never lasts.

next chapter