Into Oblivion

Late work night  + Ambien + fascination with a certain post-apocalyptic television show = healthy dose of WTF this morning. Yes, this came out of my head. Yes, I know I need help. But let's be honest - how interesting would I be if I wasn't as messed up as I am? 

So, enjoy... Into Oblivion

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The roar of the crowd was deafening. Frankly he was surprised that the ruling faction was able to gather so many people for the event. Of course, they likely didn’t have a choice. It was difficult to make examples of the resistance fighters if there was no one to watch. He guessed that most of them had been forced from their homes and herded to the stadium. Standing there with the others, shackled together, he stood defiantly until the horns blew and the crowed quieted. The Reaper was about to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, hello!” he said, his voice booming through the stadium’s sound systems. “We have here another band of dissidents who have tried, and failed,” he continued, emphasizing the word failed, “to steal from you the glory and honor of the new world!” The crowd roared, and he shook his head. Ignorance was all around him, and he would never understand why so many millions had fallen into the spell. Perhaps it was the effect that the radiation of war had on them; perhaps it was simply his strong will. Whatever the difference, these tens of thousands cheering and goading on his fate would likely never know the truth that he knew.

“Yes,” the Reaper continued. “Yes! It is time for these traitorous thugs to meet their doom! To the Pit!” Impossibly the crowd grew even louder as the guards stepped forward and unshackled the six men standing in the center of the stadium. They were then arranged in a circle around the gaping opening of the Pit, a sink hole that had opened during the war in nearly the exact center of what used to be the home of drunken revelry every Sunday afternoon. From the edge of the Pit one could only see about twenty meters of the rough rock walls before the depths suffocated what little light could penetrate downward.

No one had emerged from the Pit. Those that came close were shot, their bodies left to plummet to the bottom. Whether any that descended survived was a mystery, one which he was unfortunately about to uncover. The guards moved closer, their weapons aimed at the men who once fought so bravely against the tyranny of the new ruling faction. For a moment his thoughts raced to Paige, and the tears that cut through the dust on her cheeks as she watched him sacrifice himself to capture so that she could remain hidden, and free.

With a hard shove in the back from the butt end of the guard’s rifle, he ventured to the edge. Their punishment was simple: climb down to the bottom. If you could find a way out once you got down there, other than coming back up the way you came, you would be free. To the best of his knowledge, none had ever found an exit. In fact, there was no information as to how deep the Pit really was, and if there even was a bottom to its cavernous depths. A grin crept across his face.

“Zoom in on that.” The camera operator did as he was told, and Cana’s grin filled the massive screen at the south end of the stadium. Seeing his grin sent the crowd into a frenzy of boos and hisses.  He knew something they didn’t know. 

“Your fate has been decided. In accordance with New Law, you will descend the Pit. Guards, carry out the sentence!” The crowd erupted once again as the guards moved forward until the prisoners no longer had any choice but to be shot, or climb. So Cana climbed.

Sent into the Pit six at a time, prisoners were usually befallen by one of three fates: they would lose their grip and fall to their death; they would panic and try to climb back out, at which point the would be shot and their bodies left to fall into the darkness; or they somehow would manage to keep climbing downward, never to see the light of day again. No one ever dared to find out what existed in the shrouded world at the bottom. Cana would learn soon enough.

By the time he reached the edge of light, three of the others were already gone. One had been shot, and two had lost their grips on the loose stone and fell presumably to their deaths, the echoes of their screams ringing in Cana’s ears. Hurriedly, yet cautiously, he continued climbing downward until he came to a small outcropping, below the line of light, where he could rest, out of sight. Another scream informed him that there were now two of them left. Regaining his breath, he resumed his descent. After what seemed like hours later, he grew forlorn at the fact that there seemed to be no end in site. Cana no longer had any idea whether the other remaining soldier still survived. As the thought drifted in his mind, he lost his grip and tumbled backward into the darkness. Saying a short prayer, he closed his eyes and thought of Paige.

His body jolted with the impact that came much sooner than he expected. It wasn’t so much the landing that surprised him; his body was relatively unharmed. No, it was the pungent odor that filled his heightened sense of smell that nearly rendered him unconscious. He had landed on the mass of corpses of those that had fallen before him. In a gruesome twist of irony, their deaths had prevented his own by cushioning his fall. Trying not to breathe, he scrambled to find his way down the mound of bodies until he was finally able to reach stone ground and take several steps away from the horrific scene. Scene. He could see the scene, not just sense it, and his grin returned.

During the war the ruling faction had utilized chemical weapons to dissuade the would-be rebellion. The intended effect of the pathogen was to render its victims blind and deaf, numbing their senses. On Cana, however, it had the opposite effect. Instead of debilitating him, it empowered him, enhancing rather than destroying his senses. His new found abilities made him one of the most effective and dangerous operatives of the resistance, right up until Paige was captured. Risking everything for his little sister, he stormed the ruling faction’s camp to free her, giving himself up in the process. He knew what his fate would be, and hoped that his abilities would see him through the ordeal. He was already two steps ahead.

Looking around, his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and he could see what no others could see. The bottom of the sink hole opened up into a cavernous expanse, pocked with fissures from which steam would occasionally billow. A tunnel led off to the west, and seemed to be the only route available to him. Quickly surveying the area, he turned his attention back to the pile of rotting humanity. He pulled his shirt up over his nose and tried not to breathe as he approached the pile. Cana knew that, on occasion, guards had been pulled into the pit along with prisoners. It didn’t take him long to find two of them, from which he stripped pieces of their armor and weapons. And, most importantly, flashlights. Though he could effectively see in the dark, there was no need to strain his senses if he didn’t have to.

Standing at the entrance to the tunnel, Cana felt proud. He had survived the descent. He was now outfitted with armor, including protective plates for his shins, thighs, forearms, and torso. The heavy soldier’s boots he wore would protect his feet, and plated gloves, his hands. A nine millimeter automatic pistol hung at his hip, with six full clips settled snugly into their pockets along the back of the holster strapped around his waist. Slung across his chest was a bandolier that held the ten clips he hoped he wouldn’t need for the assault rifle slung over his shoulder.

I look like something out of Mad Max, he quipped to himself. His chuckle subsided quickly enough. Taking a deep breath, Cana exhaled slowly, ignited the flashlight in his hand, and ventured into oblivion.

© J.J. Goodman 2012. All rights reserved.