Saviors (working title) post 2

2.

Each extractor that was put online would inevitably help another team. We wanted to help and had the capability to do so. The extra cash didn’t hurt either. The first few jobs paid for most of the initial cost and we could do it cheaper than any of the large foundries.

Looking back, it was nice to see the community rally around a central idea and pursue it with vigor. I wish someone would have stopped and thought about the long term, though. Granted, none of us would have listened. The problems that arose were serious. Some of them happened rapidly. Others took years to take root, or for us to notice.

The earthquakes didn’t seem abnormal initially. Places like California always had the occasional massive quake. It wasn’t until they started happening in odd places that people took notice. When entire farms were swallowed and turned into freshly plowed mountains. We started to take notice.

When we woke to face our own mortality, we couldn’t ignore it.

I bolted upright in a daze, but could feel that something was wrong. I’m not sure I can really explain the sense of fear and dread properly. The best example I can come up with is walking through a store with your child, who you know is right beside you and then you realize that they aren’t. You look around and don’t see them. That dread you feel as you are suddenly panicked and looking for them is about as close as I can describe. It is immediate, instinctual, and complete. Your mind starts trying to rationalize the situation and set everything right in your world, only none of it adds up properly. It’s not the next door neighbors setting off bombs and mortars. It’s your entire world crumbling around you. It’s not your kids slamming the cupboards while making breakfast, but your whole house dancing to the staccato rhythm of the mega earth drum. Which, by the way, you helped create.

At that moment though, I didn’t think about any of those things that hindsight puts into perfect focus. I had a select set of goals:

Find my wife? Done. Sitting in the bed right beside me with a confused and terrified look.

Find my kids? I heard them running down the hallway screaming, toward my room. Sounded like three voices, all accounted for.

Cower in fear and hope to make it out? Easy. Do nothing and hope for everything.

As the minutes crawled on, we started to feel a little safer. The house was, so far, remaining in one piece. The occupants and possessions were shaken, but no one was damaged yet.

Saviors(working title) post 1

We were trying to save the world.

Forward:

The democratization of everything. Information. Media. Government. We believed that when given enough information, people would naturally make the right choices. In some cases, it worked. Pharmaceutical companies had to compete with home based bio hackers. Prices fell, quality and ingenuity went up. There was real competition, not lobbyists pandering to their government whores.

In other cases it was a shit show. With new innovations came new problems. We always heard the phrase, “unknown unknowns.” In other words, you don’t know what you don’t know. We thought we knew what it meant. We thought we had thought through our plans enough. In the end, we learned how important those unknowns can become. Even with something innocuous, the repercussions can be overwhelming.

We called ourselves makers.

We wanted to make the world a better place.

We destroyed it.

1.

It was a Wednesday. I don’t know if it actually was, but it makes me feel better to put a day to the event. At the time, nobody foresaw what would happen. It was just another breakthrough. A major one, granted, but still just a breakthrough.

A research team out of Australia had been working for years on extracting magma directly for digital fabrication. In other words, 3d printing, but instead of using plastic filament, they were using raw materials from the core of the earth.

When they announced their project, we all chuckled and thought ”man that would be cool.” Direct access to untold amount of iron, titanium, aluminum, etc. It was the dream. It could be processed into ingots and used in traditional manufacturing processes, but with the advances in 3d printing with individual atoms, the scope became so much larger. As the printers became faster, larger, and more capable, the face of manufacturing would change.

When the day came, we were stunned. They had done it. We also started to see how expensive it would be for anyone to replicate their results alone.

Where we were limited by raw materials on the surface, relatively speaking, there was an almost endless supply that we had never been able to tap. The team was trying to open the gates. After a decade, they did. They also open-sourced all of the research and information that they had gathered. It was free to anyone who had the money, time and skill to duplicate it.

At first only the large corporations and universities pursued replicating the technology. The average maker could only dream about the printers or extractors. Some people even went back to school for another degree to gain access.

As more people put their eyes on it, changes happened. People found ways to make it simpler, cheaper, easier. It would never be cheap, but they managed to get it into the realm of possibility for smaller groups of makers to pool their resources and build up the infrastructure.

A decade after the first dissemination of information, we were decentralized and making.

I still remember the day that our extractor came online. It was a Wednesday as well. We finished plugging all the parts together. Checking and double checking the code. Making sure all the fittings and insulation were tight. One leak or major malfunction could end our dreams, if not our lives.

Our hackerspace was in an old warehouse. It wasn’t pretty, and barely had a roof. It had walls, and more importantly, lots of power. The windows were still intact, and blacked out. Prying eyes weren’t a huge concern.

Part of the innovation was a smallish sonic drilling rig no bigger than a fullsize pickup truck. It didn’t need to be large as the vibration was the magical part of the recipe. The vibration was setup in such a way that it would essentially make a fluidized solid of the debris it was drilling through. The fluidized powder also had relatively low friction, as long as we didn’t stop the vibration.

It could load 10 foot drill rods made of refractory metals. It would take 528 rods to drill a mile. We had to go at least 5 miles, maybe more.

After months of drilling, we made it through. 8.5 miles deep and we were into the mantel. We were ready to hook up the pump, connect our processing station, and turn it on.

“We ready for this?” I asked.

A few nervous grunts returned. It was as good as could be hoped for under the circumstances. In the recent years, 3 groups had failed to get their extractors running properly. Two groups had component failures that destroyed the extractor pump. One group ended up with a leak and spilled magma across their work space. The latter group all died in the resulting fire and lava flow. We all knew the risks, but it was still a moral shaking day for the movement.

“Hit it.”

The emergency stop was disengaged. The pulsing green power button was pressed and grew to a solid glow. The only sound was that of a small fan cooling the cpu on the control computer.

After a minuter that stretched eternity, a low throbbing began in the machine. It sounded like the bass beat from a rave buried a hundred feet underground. No treble to be heard, this machine was all about that bass.

The status window showed all green. No errors or issues. Now it was just a waiting game. Imagine sucking molasses through a 100 foot straw. That was essentially equivalent, in a very non-scientific way. It’s probably a good enough analogie to visualize the slow and painstaking process.

Eventually a slow snake of magma started to emerge from the extractor outlet. It wasn’t fast, but it would be enough.

We had a large crucible stationed under the outlet. As it slowly filled, we let out a collective breath. It was working. After a few more hours of extraction we started the shutdown procedure. This involved back purging the suction line. If any of the magma cooled and hardened in the line, we would have to drill a new hole. A process which we had neither the time, money, nor inclination to take on.

After an hour the line was purged and the machine was shut down. We were all exhausted and horribly excited. We left to get some food and speak in hushed tones about our dreams for the future and the miracles we would unleash upon the world. How we would change it. How we would make it better.

Looking back now, I guess even accomplishing one out of two didn’t look so bad.

Day 24(Almost done. less than 3k to go.)

2.

Jump back to the beginning. The beginning of the new world. The death of the old. Jump to the first leader rising from the ashes. The start of his new journey. Of a new life for all of them. The steps to get here had taken much longer than anyone would have assumed. They had fought for what seemed like days.

Some of them had sustained injuries, mostly minor, but a few decent as well. The leader had received a wound in his shoulder, which was the most serious one, The others just had sordid cuts, scrapes, and bruises, most of which had been their own doing. Clumsiness did not count as a battle scar.

It took them a few days to gather supplies, and a small task force had been sent to find the materials to make a flag. They were going to mark this ground, this world, this victory, for future generations to see. It made them feel better about what they had actually done to get here. This way they had something to show for it. Even if all that was only a flag flying in the middle of nowhere.

The scenery had changed from a few days prior. Where buildings used to stand, there were now just small mountains of debris. The streets looked like hardened lava flows. There was no vegetation or other signs of life to speak of. They were at the center of a self created wasteland. This had been the goal all along, but some where really wondering if they had chosen the right path.

Jump forward a few days. Jump to the group deciding that it was time to leave and live the lives that they expected. Marching to the south. Marching until food started to run low. Marching until they found the stream that would become their highway for years to come. The fertile land to start their new life.

Jump to a young boy almost destroying the camp with his new ability. To the leader scolding his sun and trying to teach restraint. Jump to the boy leading his tribe to the flag pole to bury his own father. Jump to a young boy asking why the sky is blue and the grass is green. Lacking a good answer, she said that it is because somebody made it that way. Jump to that boy growing up with the vision of a higher being controlling everything. Jump even further to an established, yet wildly different form of Christianity. Jump to the bronze age. The iron age. The industrial revolution. Jump to everything they had tried to prevent coming full circle.

Societies had formed once again. Nomadic tribes had settled down and learned how to build structures out of stone, wood, metal, and even glass. The crystal skies which had taken generations to clear where starting to fill with soot. Not everywhere, but around factories it was very prevalent.

Jump to the creation of the internal combustion engine. While slightly different in look, identical in function. Jump to war. Jump to famine. Watch as they would begin to tear themselves apart from the inside. Watch as the flag of the Phoenix was lowered for the last time. In it place, no flag, but a building instead. Watch as a new king takes control through force, and not respect. Watch as the flag is raised once again. The phoenix has been twisted to suit the kings vision.

The king would rape and pillage the few remaining tribes that he could find. He would claim all that he could see for himself. He would kill any who opposed. He would managed to create a successful society, built on the rage and brutality that had afforded him his power. Watch as the king would fight, vicariously, through his soldiers and their tales.

Watch as the last of the torches band together, but with the main goal of claiming power for themselves. The fact that they would have to kill the king was just a side effect. They would storm the civilizations with brutal force. Killing everyone in sight and destroying everything that had been built. They would rip the ground apart. They would command powerful rains of fire which could lay waste to entire cities. The bloodshed would go on for years. They mounted a world tour, not that it took long to deal with any one area, but without using the new technology, travel was by foot.

Watch as they rip the world apart. Watch as years later the last Torch dies. Cold, alone, and powerless. The last Torch, lacking any kin, was also the last surviving person of his, or any other, order. Watch as the events that had been sent in motion, the ancient history of the new world, had finally come to fulfillment. No more death. No more hate. No more fighting. No more people. Nothing, but harmony.

Nature would be just fine with this. She always recovered. She was never worried about being killed, but wondered how long she would have to live in a half suffocated state. She now knew that the answer was, never again. Never again would she be witness to the hateful crimes against her self and others that had plagued her lands for as long as she could remember. He trees would regrow. The endangered species, which, until recently, had begun to flourish once again. She would remake the world in her image. In all of it’s splendor and beauty. The way it had been intended originally. The way no living soul could have ever pictured it. She was happy for the first time in too many years to count.

As a whole, the plant and animal life had gone mostly unaffected. There were a few rare birds and beasts that had been halted in the rebuilding of their large families, but they knew it would resume soon enough. No plant species were extinguished, but some were found to be lacking in certain areas. Entire mountains had been stripped of their greenery. Nature’s cloak and veil would have to be rebuilt, but 1000 years really didn’t seem so long away in retrospect.

She knew that she might have a painful decision to make in the years to come. She hopped that it would never become an issue, but knew that it might. Others had interfered before, and it was not beyond them to do it again. She had to come to a decision on how she would deal with another infestation if one arose. She knew that her brother was still alive, even if she hadn’t seen him for a very long time. He had always liked to play, for lack of a better word, God. He was actually the root cause to everything that had befallen his sisters planet.

His own experimentation with the creatures on his planets had led him to want bigger and better things. He had convinced his sister to let him place a few in her world. Just a couple. Just for a few years. Just to see if it works. At least that’s what he had said, but it is obvious how that had turned out. She was pretty impressed that they had lasted as long as they did, even if they did destroy as much as they could. She still wasn’t sure if those fiery ones had been an accidental mutation, or if he had snuck some in when she wasn’t looking. At first she thought they would be great, if not a little scary, but it turned out that instead of being exterminators, they had sort of reset the cycle just so it could all happen again. She was glad it was finally over. She never wanted to deal with it again, especially not twice. Once was entirely too much.

She had seen everything happen both times. She was too concerned with what she had created to be able to ignore it. Her brother had no issues with killing off entire species in his own projects. She just couldn’t do it. They all head their own personalities. She was just too attached to them all. It felt like she had just lost a very good friend, that she ha known for years. It also felt a little like being cured of cancer. Mixed feelings, for sure, but that didn’t make her feel any better.

Life by Fire

1.

People were dying in vain. No reporters to capture their story. No photographers to archive their valiant stand. Nobody, except the small army, would remember them. They would be remembered in the stories that would be passed down, but not in a good light. Most understood though that they would either die here, today, or somewhere else in the not too distant future. The worst part was that they had been spared for this long. It was maddening. It did nothing to strengthen their moral. In fact, they were all dead the moment Pyro shot his first flames in the street a few days prior.

Some of them still tried to fight, well as well as they could fight seemingly random bolts, and fountains, of fire darting from the sky and ground. Some just couldn’t sit down and let it all happen. It would happen either way and it made some of them feel better if they fought it versus giving in.

Pyro was starting to waver again. His resolve was strong, but he had expended far too much energy so far, and there was still much to do. The flames dwindled for a second and then went out. Mary’s were still running strong.

Suddenly a report rang out. By the time Pyro realized what had happened, he was on his back. Fragments of bone were scattered behind him. His entire body was in pain. He tried to move. He screamed. Mary looked at him and screamed. Her flames vanished in a split second. Another report. Another injury. A finger was lying a few feet back from Mary’s already disfigured hand. Blood sprayed from the bloody stump and she dropped to the ground. It hurt, but mostly it was the surprise.

Pyro drug himself up with one arm. His left shoulder blade had sprouted a very painful hole and felt completely dead. He noticed that the people were starting to advance over the expanse of crisp bodies that he had laid to waste. Nothing would keep them alive if Mary, or himself, was not able to get defenses in order. He tried to raise the wall again. It failed. Not even a flicker. Not a lick of flame.

He yelled at Mary, who either ignored him, or just couldn’t hear over her own sobbing. The people were approaching at a much swifter pace. Pyro and Mary were both very luck in the fact that they fell behind rubble that block the snipers view of any vital organs. Of anything at all. He didn’t know it yet, but he would be thankful that his injury went clean through and had only nicked a bone. Most of the damage was muscle tissue. Either way, it still hurt. He tried to light again. And a third time. And a fourth. And so far, nothing.

He crawled over toward Mary. He hoped that he could calm her down and get her to concentrate. He grabbed her arm and shook her violently. She tried to light him on fire, and if he hadn’t been who he was, would’ve been roasted almost instantly. The advantage here was that her outburst had cauterized his seeping wound. She had just managed to save his life for the time being, but if nothing new happened it wouldn’t matter.

There was only one reason that both of them were still alive. The heat that radiated form their fire, and from the molten street made the air shimmer and distort. The sniper, for some reason or another, did not take this into account. So what should have been a direct shot to the head, turned out to be radically off course. He would never make that mistake again. He would never have the chance.

He slapped her a little harder than he meant to. She looked up at him with teary eyes. Eyes which said she couldn’t do it. Eyes that cried not only for her missing finger, but for her pride. She had failed and didn’t think she could regain that. Pyro nodded. He understood without her saying a word. He helped her up quickly and started to retreat slightly. He needed to regain his hold on the situation and wanted all the time he could muster. The people were approaching, but the piles of bodies did tend to be a little unstable and arguably slippery. A number of people died just trying to cross the expanse. All it took was for one to slip on a skull, or a hand, etc., and puncture their lung on any number of protruding bits of calcium. One sap even managed to puncture his left eye, but did not die from it. Surely he would have liked that much better than the oozing mess that was dripping from the empty socket on his face.

He tried again. And again. And again. This was very bad. They were approaching, and he really couldn’t do anything about it. He didn’t want to go too far back and put his troops in even more danger. He had failed, but he hoped to regain the advantage if he could figure out how. He dropped his hand and waved for his troops to retreat back to the buildings. He did not want any of their deaths on his head. They paused, and considered the command. After a momentary lapse of reason, they retreated.

The people were almost upon him, and Mary wouldn’t last much longer. An unarmed combatant lunged for Pyro, and missed by a very narrow margin. This had forced Pyro to move sideways into another’s arms. This was no friendly parent or friend, but instead someone that was going to see this finished, and finished right then.

Mary tried to engulf the area in flames as she ran forward to help him, but could not muster the strength, or courage, or determination. She was scared. She made it to Pyro right before he was to be tossed into the crowd and handled. She grasped at his ankle. She could reach nothing else. This would be her last chance. Either it worked, or it was over. No other options. Not other alternatives. It was now. It had to be.

She gritted her teeth and looked Pyro right in the eyes. He had confidence. He could see it in her eyes. It started slowly. A small, almost unnoticeable coal, burning in her eyes. The blackness turned to hints of red and orange. Glowing brighter than he had ever seen anything glow. Growing brighter still, he just stared. He would be ok. He just knew it.

They were dragging Pyro towards the General and Joe. The man carrying him was actually protecting him from the angry mob. Mary hung on to his ankle and was hardly noticed. With out even realizing, she lit a few of the people that tried to snatch her away. She was back, but it would take a while for her to realize it. Pyro was still useless as a flamethrower. He tried to kick and struggle, but it made no difference.

The trek to the General’s station was a very long one. Once he saw the child captured he made sure it was known that he wanted him alive. Wanted to be able to talk to him for a while before he was executed. Wanted to see if he could learn this little trick that had killed so many of his men. Torture wouldn’t be out of the question, but only as a last resort.

The other children watched from the shadows of the building. They feared the worst. They figured that soon enough they would all be dead. Executed for betraying the country. For being terrorists. Terrorist was still a huge buzz word. No one seemed to pay any attention to them. Everyone was focused on the little leader. The little leader who was now reduced to nothing.

Nobody had anyway of knowing if he would suddenly ignite himself, or anything else, but they just trusted that the General had a clue. He didn’t, but he was not one to be cautious. His bold composure drew in others as well. While they probably should have been standing back, as far away as they could possibly be, they just couldn’t. There was a draw to this boy.

Mary squeezed his ankle. He made the slightest nod. He knew what she was thinking. He just hoped that it would work. Mary squeezed one more time. He nodded again. It was time.

The children were blinded by the sudden rage of light and force. The shaft of, what looked like pure energy, shot straight up from center stage. It burnt the looming flagpole and ate the fluttering piece of fabric. It was powerful enough to uproot the concrete located around it’s base. The shock wave deafened everyone within 500 feet and killed those within 50. Those no more arms reach, or so, away disappeared. Even the bones were incinerated with exacting force.

Joe and the General were killed instantly. Joe was actually tired of waiting. The General knew in his heart that there was never really any other end that fit. All of the other people started to run. Mary was spent. She had used everything she could to save her friend, and now it was his turn to take care of her.

Pyro’s shoulder still hurt, but he figured that he could manage. He lit a finger, to test if all systems were go. They were. He directed a serpent to surround all of the retreating combatants. He completed the enclosure just before any were able to escape. He slowly started to restrict the diameter. The casual observer probably wouldn’t have noticed that it was shrinking at all for at least a couple of minutes, but those inside of it knew almost as soon as it started. Not only was it shrinking, but the interior was getting consistently warmer. The only way to imagine it would be sitting in a large oven and then turning the temperature up to a couple thousand degrees. It was very gradual, but no less deadly. Mary and Pyro were sweating, but not actually affected by the heat. Well, mostly anyway. Mary did manage to cauterize her finger during her initial burst. Not that the minimal bleeding would have killed her, but it did make her a little woozy.

Not only were people being toasted on the dark, or even burn, setting, they were also being cooked from the inside. The people closest to the walls were having major issues with their blood, water, and eyes being boiled in their bodies. The sensation, while quite painful, did not last long. It was a quicker death than removing an arm, or leg, and bleeding to death. They would never know. They were not amputees, and their minds focused on the pain with such clarity that 20 seconds seemed like the sum of their entire lives. Every second felt like a year. Or 10. 100. 1000. Eternity.

Pyro knew that he was being cruel, but didn’t do anything to change it. It felt good. His adrenaline levels were at an all time high. He was twitchy. Excited. Out of control. He knew it. He welcomed it. He enjoyed it. This was the rush that he had been looking for since that very first time. Nothing would ever compare. Nothing would ever be the same. He could fight a lion with his bare hands. He could jump of a building, if there were still any tall ones, with no chute, and it would feel like a little fan next to a tornado. Everything from this point on would have less flavor. Life would lose much of it’s luster. He didn’t care. Even if he did, it wouldn’t change anything.

The most impressive visuals, with the exception of the fire, came from a few people who had amazing deaths. One mans head actually exploded. Eyes punched straight out. Skull shattered. Brain matter squished into the surrounding victims. Most didn’t even notice, but a few did. One tasted it to see what it was, like he would know the taste of head meat right off. Another just stopped moving and started screaming. That only lasted for a couple of seconds. The sun was starting to rise.

With a final breath, Pyro brought his creation toward the center at blistering speed. It had the same destructive effect as a nuclear warhead. Picture the old military videos of a blast, and that is about how it looked. People were ripped off of their feet. Skin was ripped off the bone. Marrow exploded from every possible exit. In a split second everyone was reduced to ash with Pyro and Mary at the center of the former blaze.

2.

After the air had cooled by a few degrees, and the sun had crested the horizon, the children slowly made their way to their leader. It was a dangerous walk. There were random hot spots. There were enough bones to make some bone cabins, if anyone had been so inclined. They crowded around. Giddiness mixed with apprehension. They felt good. They felt dirty.

They talked for a few hours about everything that had happened. They discussed the proposition of being free. They were all in agreement with the original plan. Make the world into the type of place that it always should have been.

They all went in search of supplies. There were only a few buildings left, and they raided them for everything. One of the older kids decided that they needed a flag, and took it upon himself to be the creator. Hours of labor, and inexperience, paid off. They now had a symbol. A legacy. A crude flag that would ring pride in their hearts, and the hearts of their children. It didn’t matter that children would be way off.

Pyro and Mary stayed back while the others went. They wanted to honor the dead. They cremated all of the remains and let the wind scatter them where it saw fit. They returned to the pole and sat in silence. Pyro jumped at a meek voice that seemed to come from behind him. It was not a child’s voice. It sounded older. More sophisticated. He spun around and faced. Nothing. There was nobody there.

The voice told him to look down. He did, but still noticed nothing of interest. Janice, who was amazed that he could hear her, explained the whole story. She had been telling it some what frequently lately. That made it easy because it was still fresh in her mind.

Pyro explained his dreams. Illustrated his vision. She had no reason to doubt his tenacity. He had proven it already. After much discussion, she finally determined that she supported him in his quest, and was happy that he was willing to make such an effort for a cause he knew nothing about.

Janice spoke to Mr. Abbot quietly and he agreed as well, but had an interesting point that she had not thought of.

“My associate Mr. Abbot, brought an amazing point to my attention just now.”

“Why thank you,” said Mr. Abbot.

“The only true friends we have our each other. We also had a friend named Joe. Don’t worry about who he his, but he is here right now. We can feel him.”

“Ok, what does this really have to do with me,” asked Pyro.

“Well, we were thinking, or wondering really, if you would permit us to watch over this place. If we are going to spend the rest of our lives somewhere, we would like that somewhere to be right here. Right on the base of the flagpole. Would you permit us that honor? Let us be the protectors of this old world? The guardians? The watchers?”

“That’s fine with me. Is it ok to tell the others about you? I think it would make a great part of the story. Who would believe that there are talking bricks.”

Janice thought for a second.

“Ok. Just remember everything you told me. And might I suggest, that when you must honor one of your fallen leaders, which hopefully won’t be for many years to come, you bring them back to this place?”

“I promise that we will.”

“Someday we will meet again. Until that time comes, take care. Stay strong and you will turn out just fine.”

“Thank you,” said Pyro and walked away with Mary in tow.

The Future

1.

Skip ahead. Listen to the stories that were told. Enjoy the songs that echoed through the canyons. Pyro had done many amazing, if not bothersome, things in his past, but he had never realized the extent of his powers until he had met a little girl by the name of Mary. She had managed to draw greatness out of him. Her selfless attention and actions had inspired him. Death had almost claimed her and that had helped summon the courage that he would need until he passed years later. He would be leader of all the remaining humans on the planet. His select group of kids.

They would all grow to be men. They would teach themselves all that their parent’s forgot to teach them about survival. About living life. About being happy. At the end of the day, they were proud of their accomplishments. It would take many years to establish a cultural groove, but once they had, they ran with it. New religions. New methods. New songs. New thoughts. New stories. A new society. It was their world, and they claimed it. Helped it rebuild. Helped it flourish.

They started small. Sticks and stones were used to hunt. Their intellect and determination were their greatest weapons. They weren’t any faster or stronger. They weren’t experts. They just tried and prevailed.

Pyro was proud of everyone. They had survived. They continued to grow as a community and as individuals. Nobody ever complained about wandering about. They had learned to appreciate the open air, and the clear horizon. There were always new treasures to discover. New streams. New plants. New animals. New breathtaking valleys and massive mountain ranges. After a few years he would not remember what a camera was. He would take snapshots with his mind, and store them there. Sometimes he would dig around and remember all of the places that they had been. The splendor of nature was overwhelming at times, but he fought through it.

Mary and Pyro became great friends. They were the only two fire users so they would practice alone when time allowed. They would talk. They would try to amaze the other with new displays of skill or power. They would both become the greatest leaders that the world had ever known. The first of a new era. Even though they would be split up years later, they decided to have children of their own. This was years after the old world had been crushed. They were both young adults. They both hoped that they could have a child as unique as they were. They succeeded.

They would have five beautiful children. The fifth would not survive do to labor complications. They performed their own ceremony for the child. His name had been Damien. He would forever be remembered by his parents.

The other four children would roam between the two tribes that had been created. Mary was in charge of the breakaway. Pyro commanded the original. They would both teach the children about leadership. About responsibility, loyalty, and honor. All four children would grow to be leaders. A few years after the tribe was split into four units, Mary and Pyro would reunite for the final time. They managed to live out their last years in happiness. They were proud of each other. They were proud of their children. Proud of their people. Just proud.

The children were better than Pyro or Mary could have ever wished for. They all had an incredible drive. Their determination rivaled even their dad’s. Their compassion was greater than their mom’s. The youngest, even as a full grown woman, still carried her mom’s bear. She had made sure to take it when she left. It served as a constant reminder of her parents and it helped to feel that they were close.

Retirement was the best part of Pyro and Mary’s life. They were able to relax for the first time in way too long. They loved to watch the kids take control. They gossiped about what their tribes had been doing over the year. They caught up on all the years that they had missed each other. They lived out their final years in peace. They were content.

Their journey to the flagpole would take months once it was started since they had ventured far from where it had all begun.

2.

Many generations would come and go before the story of Pyro would be forgotten. When that day came, it would already be too late. Their fates were sealed from the beginning. He had tried to avoid it, but everything he did to hinder the outcome, made it that much easier for the cards to fall as they did.

His parting wish is that they didn’t remember him, as much as they remembered his ideals. He didn’t feel that he deserved honor. He believed that all those who had died, on both side, deserved the accolades. They were the reason he was able to contribute what he had. He still believed that anyone could make a difference, and that he was just the first step. For his life to have been worthwhile they needed to continue in his footstep, or make eve greater strides in the right direction.

Over the years following the start, he had come to believe that people were good, but that they could be easily swayed. He knew first hand how power could feel. How revenge could satisfy even the most savage beast. He had learned to kill most of the beasts within him, but there would always be some pieces missing. Hole he could never fill.

It took a very long time to come to terms with the massive slaughter. The destruction of the human race, which he had orchestrated almost entirely on his own. Mary and Pyro both lived with those demons for their entire lives. These were the parts left out of the stories. Out of the songs and heroic ballads. His young followers, even the ones that had been there, never really knew what had happened. Never fully grasped the scope and consequences of the actions. He hadn’t left the flagpole to honor the dead, but to remind him of the consequences if he ever forgot.

Even half a world away he could still see it. He relived that, and every other night before it. Every evening when he went to bed. He would wake far too often with a cold sweat running down his spine. He could have tried to find ways to get rid of the nightmares, but he just counted then as punishment. His penance. His curse.

He never forgave himself no matter how much better off he believed the world to be. It took a tole on every aspect of his life. He had split the tribes to push Mary away. He wanted to live without the constant reminders, but it had actually made things much worse. They survived it, but not without cost. Some things could just not be erased.

Years after the passing of Pyro and Mary, the tribes outlook had changed. Their great-grandchildren were the first to start making major changes. Every aspect of life would change over the course of a few generations. It would take much longer for the effect and changes to become permanent, but that is where it started.

The great-grandchildren’s children were the last to be honored at the flagpole. The trip would never be made again, but it would be attempted by one other leader after his tribe had been sent on.

Janice and Mr. Abbot were glad that Pyro had kept his word. While they waited for years, almost alone, eventually the tribe arrived. They knew as they saw the first person arriving. Pyro had finally perished. They were mournful, but somewhat excited. They had a feeling that they knew what was coming.

After the ceremony, Pyro, Mary, Joe, Janice, and Mr. Abbot watched the congregation leave. They were all very proud of Mary and Pyro’s children. They had done admirably well. They even mused over the new flag. The missing talon had been a nice touch, at least Mary had thought so. Pyro had to agree with Janice’s decision about this place. It might get lonely at times, but he had his wife, and three new friends to spend the rest of eternity with.

An unknown perk arrived when Pyro’s children passed away. While it was sad, he was happy to be reunited with his children. Mary was ecstatic. She had missed them so very much. They also got to meet their grand-children for the first time and then again quite a few years later.

After the great-great-grandchildren came to rest, they would never meet another generation. Never see another living soul. It was probably for the better though. None of them would have been proud of the way things were turning out.

The resting place was forgotten. There the watchers, Joe, and a good deal of Pyro’s family rested. There they stayed. Safe. Secure. Alone. Nature had taken care of them. She had taken them into herself and there they would be safe forever.

Day 21(big update. 6313 words. I'm actually pretty happy with this material. Enjoy!)

There were quite a few people that liked the prospects. They would get to go to heaven, or hell depending on the individual, and were excited about this. Others didn’t like it one bit. They liked living here. They liked their jobs, their families, the life. For them it looked to be a sad time. They got in line just like everybody else, but they couldn’t help feeling that it was a bit premature. There was still more that could be done here. They wanted to see their kids first steps, first date, first car, graduation. Without those life moments on the horizon there was suddenly little point to living.

Both factions had reached across international borders. There were only a few places that were not affected, and these generally didn’t have phones, email, or even automobiles. Basically these were small nomadic tribes completely cut off from the world so they didn’t have any idea of the turmoil which was enslaving the rest of the world.

2.

The first day of the major offensive started out like any other. It was a typical day, if you could call anything about these days typical. The epic battle was still in the background, but soon it would be raging until there was only one man standing, or none.

People armed themselves with anything that was handy. A baseball bat, a rake, a frying pan, and one woman even had a huge, let’s say, adult novelty toy the size of a battering ram. Anything that could do damage. Joe had his trusty bricks who were not opposed to being thrown, literally, into battle. The president had what appeared to be a massive stapler fitted with a scope.

The two leaders would’ve met if there had been any need. Both sides knew what the objective was. The goal… Purify the other side. There was no truce, no ceasefire, no surrender. They would die fighting, or not die at all. The streets were quiet. They were filled with an unease that only came before death. The shuffling was deafening if only for the fact that there were no other noises. It was an eerie mix of clamor and silence. People were going to die today and they knew it.

The first clash resonated in the hearts of all the other combatants. The most recognizable sound was that of a frying pan clanging against the other persons skull. The thud, followed by the ringing was disturbing at best. That is all it took. The game started. As both side rushed to meet the opposition, the old woman who had thrown the first swing was trampled, but not before receiving a mortal slice from a young mans hoe. She watched for a few seconds as her head was kicked around. She was happy knowing that she did her part.

Groups of people were bursting into flames at random. Many thought they were Molotov cocktails, others assumed it was the work of their leaders powers. The street, which should have been strewn with bodies, managed to stay relatively clean. Even the blood was lapped up. The shadows were to be thanked for this, if nothing else. They had found their sides and stuck to them. Their role, at current, was cleanup. It gave them plenty of food, and kept them amply busy. Due to their sheer numbers it did cast an odd haze over the street, but that didn’t bother anyone but the leaders. It wouldn’t have bother them either, if they weren’t observing from the roofs of two nearby buildings. Joe did not feel good about any of this. The President loved it.

There were no lack of reinforcements. As the people in the front perished, and then subsequently vanished, the holes filled in and more people added onto the ranks in the rear. It was greater than a one to one swap on most occasions. It never seemed to slow down. Never seemed to dwindle. All the could be heard from the back was the clashing, screaming, war cries, and the occasional laugh. The crowd was so massive, and the shadows filled the front with such a haze, that the combatants discovered they were in the mix as they were suddenly facing the opposition. People were dropping like flies who have been stabbed with a toothpick. Those in the front rows were dripping the blood of those that came before them and those further back would be dripping soon enough.

The average engagement time of any single player was less than five seconds once they made it to the second row. And less than a second when they were in the front. That only takes into account those that actually made it that far. Not a single one made it into the enemies ranks. The street was filled from wall to wall, and had been for hours.

Picture the longest, widest street in your town. Now picture it filled from one side to the other with fighting people. Your friends, your family, yourself. Everyone you know placed on both side of the imaginary center line. This was basically a huge meat grinder. There was no pause in the action, but it was not very exciting. In fact, Joe and the President were getting quite bored. After trying to consort with each other through the shadows, which could hear quite well, but were also mute, they resorted to large poster boards and black magic markers. They decided it was time to take a lunch break. The shadows, armed with the commands of their leaders, split the fighting down the middle and pushed everyone back. There they remained until needed further. Lunch time it was and it lasted for a very long time.

There was no place to get lunch. Everyone was here, except for a few random kids that were grounded. Their parents figured there was no reason to let them out of the restrictions to come out here and have fun. Even the undecided were here, but they were peering at the crowd from the alleyways.

Joe was not feeling good. The president was laughing. Two different leaders with different styles and stomachs. Not that either leader was actively pursuing victory, they were both playing the role of voyeur over the fight that they had started. Not that they could really give any input if they wanted too.

3.

Now zoom out. Picture the country. Notice the flames engulfing large portions. Notice that Texas is turning black. Alaska, slowly disappearing in the smoke. The coastlines hard to discern. Before long the entire country will be covered in blackness.

Now go even further. Notice the continent. The hemisphere. The entire world. Flames slowly engulfing everything and everyone. Flames visible from space. The purifying flames of righteousness. The consuming flames of Hell. Only one place would be left untouched by the fire, but there was still heat. The only safe, if you could call it that, place was with the two leaders. The home base of the two factions.

Zoom back in. Look at Joe. Look at the President. Look at the little boy making his way toward the center of the paused conflict. Out of nowhere he appeared. His clothes blackened with soot. His eyes burning. He looked like fire would leap from his eyes at the slightest gesture.

As he approached the middle, even the shadows tried to backup. The were successful, but only partially. They managed to work their way about 10 rows back on each side. The boy closed his eyes and waited. Nobody knew what to do. Suddenly they could fight again, but the little boy would be caught in the crossfire. That was only a small concern though. If the shadows were afraid of him, who would want to try and fight him? The fact that he looked crazy probably didn’t hurt any.

Suddenly a sharp rock, shaped somewhat like an ancient knife, screamed for the boys head. It whistled as it flew through the air. If the owner had known the knife’s thought on the subject he might not have thrown it. As it touched the boys temple, it disappeared. No impact. Not a single drop of blood. No evidence that the knife even existed. Not until seconds later anyway. Nobody knew what happened, or how, but they were left with a screaming man. A man who was now dying with a rock knife sticking out of his left eye socket. The man who threw the knife.

The boy started to walk again, toward a partially open alley. As he made his way the people in front of him tried to move as they suddenly became very combustible. Spontaneous Human Combustion, poof, there goes another one. They ignited and ran with no real sense of reason. Soon enough all the individuals in the first 10 rows were alight. The skin fell off of their muscles, the muscles fell off of their bones, and then they would die. There is no real way to describe the kind of pain that they felt. The only way to experience it would be to go take a shower in gasoline and then light yourself on fire, but do it in a way to surprise yourself. I think you would understand perfectly at that point. The shadows saved everyone else.

The boy continued toward the alley, not a single flame had touched him. The people in his way tried to relocate due to his previous display of illuminating tactics. Some were successful, others befell the same fate as the combatants. One individual tried to shoot him from behind, but that ended in the shooter having a hole blown in his kneecap. He too was destined to have an early cremation. A very painful one. Nobody made a move to stop or otherwise inure the boy. He now had free passage anywhere he wanted to go in this city.

Neither Joe, nor the President, could believe what they had just seen. They were both being followed because of their “divine” purpose, but what they had just seen really demanded a rethink of the situation. A complete overhaul of the strategies that both sides had been using up to this point. The decisions for the non-believers became one step harder. Now there were three candidates vying for their attention and devotion, not that they noticed the lack of an entourage with the little boy. The fact that the little boy was no where to be found didn’t help either.

The fighting didn’t seem so important now. Joe and the President would have to sit down and talk about what was going on and decide if they would join forces or run business as usual. The coming days would be tough for everyone, except the little boy. All he had to do was have fun lighting things on fire. He enjoyed this job very much. I was more like a hobby though. A life style. The only way to live.

Pyro, or the Boy Who Plays With Fire

1.

“Where to start with Pyro… Nobody is too sure how old he is. He birth certificate, all the juvenile delinquency records, and in fact the entire county records office, managed to vanish one night. Nobody is quite sure how, but there was an odd amount of ash at the location where it used to be housed. Nobody outright accused Pyro of the crime, but people had their suspicions.

No one even knew his real name anymore. That was lost when his parents passed away. His dad choked on a piece of steak and while his mother was trying to give him the Heimlich maneuver, tripped and fell onto a foot stool, instantly snapping her neck and not saving Pyro’s father. So, in short, little is actually known about him. We do know that he is missing his two front teeth, has trouble pronouncing R’s and S’s, and that while he has almost no temper, he does seem to light things on fire at his whim. It is not sure if it is a compulsion, a game, or just something that sounds good at the time.

People would have reported seeing him all over the world, in almost every country, if they hadn’t died shortly after. It is believed that he is responsible for 90 percent of the fires which are raging out of control across the globe.

Where his power came from, like so many other things surrounding the boy, is a mystery. He doesn’t seem to be telekinetic in the classic sense. It seems that the only control objects when they are placing his life in direct danger. Like the bullet, or knife that would have surely killed him. Those he was able to redirect. We still don’t know if they were teleported to the proper location, or if he mentally flung them so quickly that nobody noticed it until the target started screaming. There is a lot of mystery surrounding this little boy and while we would like to find out more, we are, quite frankly, afraid of him. We’ve seen what he can do first hand and if it hadn’t been for the shadows, we would all be dead. At least we think we would be.”

“Thank you General,” the President said.

“So let me get this straight. Basically you just, in a very long winded way, told us that you really don’t know a thing about him,” asked Joe.

“Correct.”

“Then why not just say, Hey, there is this little fire breathing kid and we don’t know shit about him.”

“I’m assuming that you haven’t been doing this long,” said the General.

“Never mind. I’ll shut up then. Continue.”

“There is nothing more to say really. Well, we do think he is still in the city, but can’t be 100 percent sure.”

“Guess we need to figure out what to do about this kid and then we can get back to our previously scheduled program,” said the President.

“Then let’s do it,” said Joe.

2.

“I don’t like this,” said Janice, after they were out of ear shot.

“I don’t either,” Mr. Abbot and Joe said in unison.

“He does scare me, but he is just a little kid. Maybe he thinks this is a video game or something. I just don’t want to hunt down and kill a little kid. Doesn’t feel right,” said Joe.

“I can’t disagree completely, but on the other hand, he might hunt you down and do the same,” said Janice.

“Well, I guess we’ll think about it then, won’t we,” said Joe. It wasn’t really a question, but an order. At the least it was a demand.

Joe was actually worried. He had stopped living in fear of his own death when he decided that the shadows could not kill him. He wasn’t sure if it was the bricks that protected him, or something more contingent on who he actually was. He still didn’t feel like a savior, but others thought he was. He really didn’t want to tell them he wasn’t. He probably would die then.

Joe’s biggest concern, and the President’s as well, was to find Pyro. Where had he gone and what was he doing? Both questions that needed to be answered. Hopefully by the time the found the truth it would not be too late.

3.

Pyro was doing what little boys without parents did. He was wondering around. He was playing in the parks. He was thinking about stealing some lunch, but since nobody was around it didn’t seem like a challenge, therefore it wasn’t really worth doing. He grabbed a sandwich from a local deli and left a couple of bucks on the counter. Not that the money would matter in the long run, but there was no reason to be rude. If the owner made it out at least he would have the profits from a sale.

Pyro was lonely though. Since he had found his powers, around the time of first grade, nobody wanted to be his friend. He wasn’t sure if they were afraid of him or if he was afraid of them. He didn’t really talk to anyone. There had been one little girl who always tried to talk to him until he lit her notebook on fire. She never said another word to him or anyone else. Pyro did miss his family, but there had been nothing he could do. It was just bad luck on their, and his, part.

As he sat on a swing and ate his lunch, he wondered if there were any other kids around. Maybe somebody would want to play. Jump on the teeter totter. Play tag. Hide and go seek. Cowboys and Indians. Anything that would take his mind off of his current dilemma. To use his powers or not. He had wondered what the correct answer was, but no matter how he tried, he found himself using them more and more. He was like a drug addict looking for his next score. He loved the feeling of power, but not the feeling after he was done.

“What’re you doing,” asked a little girl.

“Huh? I’m, ahh, eating my lunch.”

“I wonder,” said the little girl. “Why do you eat all alone?”

“Because I don’t have any friends. Why are you out here talking to me?”

The little girl blushed and looked at her constantly moving feet. “Um. I don’t know. ‘Cause I wanted to. What’s your name anyway? I’m Mary. Mary Ann Johnson. I’m four,” she said as she held out her left hand proudly showing her age.

“Are you missing a thumb?”

“Yeah. My mommy said my dog took it before he went to heaven. She said he wanted something to remember me, but my daddy said that he was just a mean son of a birch.”

“You mean son of a bitch?”

“Oh! That’s what he said. I did wonder how my dog would be the son of a tree. What is a bitch anyway?”

“Never mind. Anyway, I’m Pyro.”

“Pyro? What kind of name is that? It’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” said Pyro.

The little girl looked at her feet as tears pooled in her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. No, don’t cry.”

The girl sniffled. “You always a big meanie?”

“I don’t know.”

“I promise I won’t make fun of your name if you promise to be nice too,” she said.

“Deal. You want to play on the seesaw?”

“Uh, huh.”

And with that, Pyro’s entourage began. It would grow slowly. One kid here, two kids there. Nobody over the age of 13 was involved, or, for that matter, welcome. A gaggle of children. All covered in soot. All devoted. Everyone of them ready to die for their cause. Ready to die, if needed, so Pyro could live. This, the new world order. The last world order.

4.

Pyro had already marched around most of the world by this point. Everywhere he went, death became the norm. Fires would rage out of control until he left if not longer. There were never any survivors. He was merciless, even if he didn’t thoroughly enjoy what he was doing. It kept him occupied. It kept him sane, within reason at least.

At one point he singled out this little hospital. It was more of a retirement home than a hospital. They are sometimes called “constant care facilities.” There was no real reason to go after this one, other than that is sounded like a good idea at the time. Most of Pyro’s decisions are based on that philosophy.

Regardless, Pyro started small. The front door burst and a few windows cracked. Nothing too major, but loud enough to draw people out. As the old men and women were wheeling their way toward the front lawn Pyro started picking them off one by one. Wheelchairs ablaze, hair on fire, etc. He just stood there and watched as the people rolled around screaming. He laughed a little, and continued. After either all of the people were out, or as many as could escape anyway, he sent the whole thing up. A billow of black smoke rose and floated across the city. The stone face of the building went black in a matter of seconds.

The nurses were injured, but not dead yet. Most of the elderly had already expired. They were past their dates anyway. There were a few left burning, but a shiny gas tanker caught Pyro’s eye. He suddenly forgot about the hospital and focus his energy on the tanker. It worked out nicely that as the tank ruptured, it was right in front of the facility. He just stared at the 30 foot tall flame that shot clean through the top. The ground ignited with fervor. Gas was everywhere, but stopped just short of Pyro. After the gas finally burned out, all the people in the local vicinity were dead, and the building was just a pile of smoldering rubble, Pyro turned on his heals and walked away. Another job well done. Nobody saw him, nobody paid any mind to the little kid in a hoodie laughing at the burning old people. That is normally how it went. Most just ignored him. He looked homeless. Useless. Worthless. If only they knew.

The biggest problem with Pyro was his short attention span. He suffered from the same thing all children suffer from. One thing could only keep his attention for so long, no matter how big and spectacular. There was always something bigger and better around the corner. He was known for, or at least used to be, staring at insects. He would never hurt them intentionally. Grasshoppers were his favorite, followed closely by praying mantises, walking sticks, and millipedes. He liked insects because they lived off of their instincts. There was no right or wrong in their world. They just did what they had to do, what they were programmed to do, and had no idea that there was any other way.

Sometimes he wished that people were the same way. There was too much suffering because of peoples agendas, politics, and greed. Maybe he saw his mission as returning the world to it’s primal state. Taking the human element away from the habitat of creatures that live together in what could be called harmony. No guns. No lobbyists. Just nature taking it’s course. It helped to think of himself as Nature’s wrath. It’s punishment for the foolish. For the greedy. For the conceded. For everyone.

He had no problems sleeping at night. No bad dreams. No fear. No worry. He believed in the purpose that had been placed at his feet and therefore had the power of his conscience on his side. He had more problems deciding what to eat for lunch. Now he had the issue of making sure his party was fed at least once a day. He was a leader though. He would make sure they were taken care of before even thinking about himself. He would never ask of his people something he would not be willing to do himself. He believed in leading by example and it was better to be a trusted friend and ally than act like a parent. He had very little time to grow up and managed it with aplomb.

The group, which could be looked at as a funeral procession, marched on. Everywhere they went people were either already dead, or in the process of dying. They took the roles of priests. They blessed everyone of the fallen. They said prayers as they marched the streets. They had not lost a single member and were hoping to avoid that tragedy. Pyro protected them.

They usually found a nice park to sleep in. Even if the rest of the area was black, the parks were always green. They would gather food before destroying every building and structure in sight. They had no opposition. The only ones who would care were the ones still alive, but they knew nothing of their impending fate. They knew everything was wrong, but they would never expect this. Nor would they believe you if you told them. Everyone ones name was marked. They all had their numbers. They had no idea it was coming like this. They gave odd looks as an army of children walked up. And then they died. With every death they made the world a safer place. One where they could, someday, raise their kids to be good people. They were making their world. A world with no crime. No fear. No pain. Perfect.

Children are the best at being altruistic. After about the age of 18 most people convince themselves that they can’t really make a difference. To make a difference someone actually has to believe that they can. This is where kids can be powerful, but usually lack the force to be heard. If any group of children ever had the power to change the world, it would be this group.

5.

“My teeth feel fuzzy,” said Mary.

“Then go brush them,” said Pyro.

“But I… I don’t have a tooth brush.”

“Here, use this one.”

“Nope. That’s gross. I don’t want your cooties.”

This made Pyro think for a second. He had grown out of the “cooties” stage, but it was not shocking that Mary was still in it.

“It’s new,” said Pyro.

“Nope. It looks old.”

“Well… I don’t have another one.” Pyro thought for a second. “Here. Eat this.”

Mary sat down and ate an apple. A golden delicious as a matter of fact.

“Thanks, Pyro. You know, I always wanted a big brother. I wonder if this is what it is like.”

“Don’t know. Can you go find something else to do? I’m trying to think,” said Pyro.

“Ok.”

Mary looked down at her feet and trudged off sadly. Pyro felt bad, but he really did have to think. He was trying to determine the next plan of action. DC was where he had started, in a small way, and that was where this would all end. When he had been there before he had destroyed the White House. He was actually pretty shocked that he had gotten away with it, but it looked like the President took the rap for it. It’s like the President wanted to. It had worked out in Pyro’s favor though. He was able to get away and start his campaign.

“We’re marching in one hour. So get your stuff together and get ready. It is possible that this will be our last move.”

Everyone turned their heads as Pyro spoke. They trusted him completely and would follow him off of a cliff if asked. He filled them with a sense of purpose. Of power. Of life.

He was pretty sure that he knew their fate already, and his own. The hope was that he could make it happen and not lose anyone. He decided to keep the same battle plan that had already been working. Go in first and have them follow behind as the chaos ensued. There were a few that he worried about though. Ones that didn’t seem to be quite on the level. Not many, only two or three perhaps, but that was more than he would like.

Washington

1.

“They are coming,” said the watchman.

“Shit,” said Joe.

“Indeed,” said the President. “Think we can do this?”

“I hope so, but I’m not entirely convinced.”

“Nor am I. Let’s just hope. How long?”

“I’d guess about an hour. It looks like they are about three miles away,” said the watchman.

“Guess we should get everyone ready. Make a call to the General.” said the President.

“Will do,” said the watchman.

The children were on the move. Everyone knew it would happen, but nobody really wanted it to. Joe wondered if the kid, Pyro, was crazy or righteous. There was something that struck Joe suddenly. If this was the time, what if the kid really was the righteous one and Joe, or the President, was really the antichrist. T had looked, for a little while anyway, like there would actually be three sides to the fight, but Joe and the President had merged forces. Everyone just assumed, naturally, that Pyro was the bad guy. He was the lighting things on fire with his mind and all.

While he had murdered, or maybe it was purified, 90 percent of the world’s population, he didn’t seem evil. Misguided, very likely, but not evil. This was the problem that Joe had with the whole situation. He figured the son of Satan would exude evil like a cheap cologne. This kid seemed genuinely concerned. Joe brought this up to the President, but the only response he got was that either he needed to be killed or everyone else would die. Joe agreed, but couldn’t be bothered to feel good about it.

The general was making preparations. Snipers were being placed at all corners of courtyard. Some on the ground floor, the other on the way up the buildings. Second floor, 10^th floor, etc. The General wanted to ensure that even if the buildings were taken out of play that there was still ample coverage of the boy. Their plan was hinging on that fact. They weren’t at all sure that the plan would work at all, but it was worth trying. Anything was worth trying at this point.

So many variables. So little time. The story of their lives. If they lived to see tomorrow, this is how they would be remembered. If they didn’t, then it didn’t really much matter. The troops, and other followers were getting anxious, and not in a good way. This was not like being a kid and waiting to open presents on Christmas. This was more like watching your kid go off to war and then waiting for a black car to drive up and deliver the bad news that they had died in combat. Actually, this was much more like going to war yourself and just waiting for the enemy to make it in range. Regardless of what it was like, it wasn’t a good kind of anxiousness.

The group had repositioned at the former site of the White House. The ground was now an open expanse, but the rubble offered some coverage, not that they would be dodging bullets or anything. It did offer great coverage from the surrounding buildings though.

The snipers and other weapons experts were in place. They loaded their weapons and waited on the ready. The shooters wondered if the kid could sense the upcoming trouble. There was definitely tension in the air. It felt electric. It felt dangerous. It felt flammable.

The young force kept their course and marched on. Pyro appeared to be thinking and not paying much attention to what lay ahead of him. They were still walking through a wasteland that had been created by Pyro on his last foray through DC. The damage and decay would end soon enough and they would be walking on fresh pavement while creating a path of destruction ahead of them.

“You can feel that, can’t you,” said a young boy.

“I can. I’ve felt it before. This might be the last time though,” said Pyro.

“What is it?”

“It’s kinda hard to explain. It’s how I feel every time I do this. I think it could be the feeling that I might die. Or it could be that others might die. I’m not really sure, but it is unsettling,” said Pyro.

“Yeah, it is. Are we going to be ok?”

“I hope so. I’m going to try my hardest to make sure that it’s not a lie.”

“Thanks. I just wanted to tell you that it’s been fun. Hopefully we can play some more after this is all over.”

“That’s the hope,” Said Pyro.

They kept marching. They were singing. Song like “The ants go marching,” and even the “Mickey Mouse Club,” song. It kept their spirits up. It let them forget that they may never walk out of this. That today might be it. That there may be no tomorrow. They followed and trusted that everything would work out, but one can only ignore so much before the fear tries to creep back in.

The shadows were doing what shadows do, but without all of the killing that they’ve become accustomed too. They waited in the shaded areas around the buildings. Everyone knew that they didn’t actually have to be in the dark, or shady areas, but they seemed to prefer those locales. Since they couldn’t talk nobody could ask them why, but they could hear just fine.

2.

“Remember when you were brave. Remember when you used to have fun. Remember life before all of this. I know that for a lot of you that wasn’t very long ago. I’ve been making my own way for much longer than all of you, and I know that, but trust me. We can and will succeed. We will. We have to. Do it for the children you want to have someday. Do it for your friends. Do it for me. Do it for yourself,” Pyro said.

In his opinion, he was not an amazing motivational speaker, but he knew he had to say something to help ease the tension. It was clouding the air. Making it think. Making it hard to breath. They needed to be clear headed and prepared.

The children kept marching on. A slight breeze at their back sent shivers down the spine. Warm day, or not, there was a definite chill in the air.

“Think about a life without greed. Without pain. Without suffering. Think of a perfect world. Let’s make that happen. Let us embrace that dream. Let us live that dream.”

The children nodded. Some of them absorbed the words, and in doing so, their confidence grew. Others were too busy humming tunes in their heads to hear, or be bothered to absorb the speech.

“I just want to say thanks to all of you. It’s been a pleasure, and honor, and a privilege spending these last days with you all. If we never meet again, just know that I am forever in your debt,” said Pyro.

Something resembling a cheer rose from the children.

“If we live today we will have started a new way of life. A new society. The world anew. In our image. Built in the perfection that only we can see. Let us do what our fathers only dreamed of. What our mothers wished for. What your children would be proud of. Let us achieve what only stories can portray.”

Everyone was now listening.

“If any of us do not make it be confident in knowing that your legacy, our view, will be carried on. If I should fall in battle, remember me as you would any of your other brothers or sisters. If you fall, I will do the same to honor you.”

Everyone nodded.

“So let us walk. As soldiers. As the righteous. And most importantly, as friends.”

Cheers resounded. Everyone was on board. They were ready. Determined and hopeful, they kept marching.

“You know, this reminds me of a movie I saw,” said Mary.

“Really,” asked Pyro quietly.

“Yup.”

“And what happened in the movie?”

“Everyone died.”

“Thanks. I really needed to know that.”

“Just trying to be helpful,” Mary said.

“Well, let’s just hope that isn’t the case today.”

Mary nodded and continued on. Nobody else heard the small exchange, and it was probably better that they didn’t.

3.

The General grabbed a bullhorn and thought. He thought about everything he had already been through, and everything that was about to happen.

“I just want to tell you all that the time is almost here. The time to step up and defend your country. I know he is only a kid, but you’ve all seen what he is capable of. In a few hours this whole area will be a graveyard. What has yet to be determined is who will be buried here today. I’m confident in saying that it will not be us.”

He wasn’t confident at all.

“I know we have the power and the numbers to crush this threat to our freedom. To our beloved country. To our very way of life. I’ve led many men into battle and always come out victorious. Today will be no exception. You will all stand, fight, and win. I wish you all good luck and god speed. We will prevail.”

The cheers echoed from the buildings. The children were still marching. The faction was readying it’s defenses. People were getting nervous.

“Why do I have a feeling that we aren’t going to make it out of this,” Joe asked.

“Probably because we won’t,” replied the General.

“Wow, how’s that for motivation.”

“I say what the people need to hear. Honestly, I have about as much hope of surviving today as I would of sucking my own dick.”

“That’s one way to put it I guess,” said Joe.

“Look, we are going to try our hardest, and hope things work out, but there is just no way of knowing until we are either through it, or dead.”

“I’ll shut up now,” said Joe.

4.

And on the other side of the world… Nothing happened. Everyone was already dead, and had been for days.

Time

1.

Without a worry for the sun, Pyro slowed down his entourage slightly. There would be plenty of light once the fireworks went off. He wanted the enemy to be impatient when he arrived. He was also worried and wanted to delay a little bit. He knew that there was no turning back, but that didn’t mean that there was any reason to go running into direct gunfire.