Season 2 - Blogisode 10

CHAPTER 10



Jade skates across the open courtyard, not bothering to mind the clearly marked paths that weave in between the intricate gardens and rocky crops.

She makes way toward the large set of cathedral style oak doors that separate the interior of the most monolithic of the structures within the Station from the exterior of the open court.

A lone man, dressed rather drab in no more a uniform than a potato sack with draw strings, stands on guard to the left of the entrance, rifle in hand.

She stands firm before him, arms folded matter of fact across her chest, eyes conveying a definitive sense of now.

“Open the door.”

Her direct manner pulls the man from his daydream in a quick huff.

“Hu? Oh, ahhh, hi Jade. No, you know the… you're not supposed to…”

“I’ll get it myself.”

She shoves past the sentry and forces her way inside with a creak and give of heavy lumber held firm to aged stone.

“Jade, you’re not supposed to…. Oh fuck it.”

With more effort than it had taken to give, the young man grips firm the brass handle of the partially swung portal and heaves it shut.

He takes a long second to retrieve his breath.

“Bitch.”

The sentry fishes a cigarette from his pocket and lights it with an antique style Zippo he pulls from the other.




SAME TIME

Set rushes to the edge of the passage and stops short of where the sunlight cuts a fine line as it pours in from the courtyard. He raises a hand in wait to Christian, standing several feet to his rear.

“I just killed a man.”

“You’ve killed lots of men Christian.”

“Over nothing!”

Set’s neck cocks seductive, a touch of evil, toward Christian, the esoteric delight twinkles in his eyes. “Nothing is ever done for nothing.”

“Right, you keep saying weird nonsense like that.”

Set turns back to the end of the passage; his head just barely peeks past the line of light to the courtyard beyond.

He lifts a finger to the place where his lips would be were he not reptilian in nature, a soft shush slithers out into the world around him.

“How the fuck do you expect to get us out of here anyway? I mean it’s the middle of the day, and I saw this place on the way in, walls on all sides and only one entrance, not to mention all the…”

“I’m sorry, I thought the finger to mouth thing was universal. It means shut the fuck up, so shut the fuck up. And don’t fret, I have a plan.”

Christian digests his anger in a deep breath sucked in from between clenched teeth.

Set’s smirk is unwavering. “Right on time.”

A siren echoes out from someplace outside, the noise fills the cobblestone hallway with a strength that reverberates over the stonewall and bounces back in a deafening bass onto Christian and Set.

Christian cups his ears, the muscles in his body clench in shock. He tries to scream over the constant drone. “What the fuck is going on!”

Set simply turns back, an unsettling grin, and a wink.




SAME TIME

Jade enters the Station library, or ‘hall of records’ as it had been dubbed by the council of nine, whom she still refused to call by any title other than their given names, especially her father.

The walls are lined with row upon row of ancient tome and text. One imposing stone table rests in the dead center of the single room structure, beneath the open ceiling.

Light pours in from the roof reflecting off of the stained glass windows that sit above the shelves, sending a cascade of rainbow hues throughout the building.

Jade moves with purpose up the rows of books, thumb running along the spines as she passes from A to Z.

She stops on point near the back of the line and pulls a small, leather bound manuscript from its place amidst the thousand pieces of mixed literature. A seal is pressed into the cover in gold and wax, two snakes wrapped around a blazing torch.

She opens the work to page one.

Inscribed in bold italic lettering across the inside cover are the words

‘Haven Station Initiative, subterranean interlay and cross point evaluation.’

Below the inside title reads the name

‘Constantine Orion.’

She flips through the worn and weathered pages, surveying the content in brief.

Pictures, blueprints and detailed descriptions of an intricate system of tunnels and Haven Stations scattered throughout the continental USA, or rather, what the continent had at one time resembled.

She stops near the back of the book on the image a complex diagram spanning two pages, at the top of the first page read the words ‘Cross point interlay.’

The alarm sounds.




SAME TIME

The front gates of the Haven Station splinter and divide in a clap of thunder sending a blast of shrapnel through the yard piercing man and stone alike.

The reptilians pour in.

As quick as life they disperse through the compound in a fury, latching on to any sign of sentient and snuffing it in a frenzy of mayhem and blood lust.

The demons make short work of the unexpecting masses overtaking the majority in their first seconds of shock.

The siren blankets the scene with an unrelenting drone as men and women scream and cry out for salvation beneath it.

Set peers out at the carnage from the alleyway tucked into the far corner of the court.

“You may want to change now!”

He screams back into Christian’s ear, then rushes out into the waiting chaos.

Christian, with too much about to keep his sense of consideration, acts on instinct alone and pulls forth the beast that holds more a piece of him with each passing day.

His skin shifts in a shimmer from that of a man to a thick green scale, his eyes form to thin slits of deep black on red. The claws and tail follow.

He rushes out into the light.