Chain Story 4

By Wayne

(Originally posted July 28, 1999)

Mendoza stood, one hand balanced lightly on top of the handle of his pistol as the light hovered, blurred against the mauve dawn, like a spectral will-o-wisp. His dark eyes followed it as it slowly began to centre the edge
of the pit and he slowly moved his feet to keep himself between it and the children he herded behind him with his spare hand.

"What is it?" Zia's voice was little more than a breath in the deadly calm.

"I don't know." Still it moved around the mouth of the pit and still the children and the soldier circled with it. Finally it stopped, balancing like a marionette held by an invisible puppeteer, stark against a thick patch of jungle visible at the edge of the clearing.

Then it exploded.

Like an bottle being blown that has had too much cold air applied on the inside, the small sphere blasted itself apart in a rain of intense white energy that shot forward like shrapnel from a cannonade's grape shot, each one a razor-like dart of nothing more than blazing pure white light that hit the soft loam at the edge of the pit like the ploughs of the Gods, digging short furrows into the earth, hurling it into the air in a rolling ring of earth and fire that fell upon them and threatened to bring down the entire pit on them. Mendoza hurled himself into that wall, narrowing the angle and pulling the others after him, even as the darts began to burn small holes in the far side of the pit.

Zia's scream was the only sound they heard, the assault came in complete silence, even the noise of the impact being inaudible to their ears. That one shrill sound was all the captain needed, pulling the pistol from its holster he pushed himself up one of the mud slides, his cloak billowing like a sail that had just caught wind as he pivoted lightly on the balls of his feet, pulling out the weapon.

And he stopped, standing alone in the now silent dawn in the churned mud at the edge of the pit, the brightening sky silhouetting him.

"Mendoza?" Esteban looked up timidly, wiping mud and grime away from his eyes with the back of his hand. The soldier ignored him, his face staring forward into the clearing with deepening lines scoring the corners of his mouth and cheeks. His jaw was tight and his eyes narrowed.

"Mendoza?" The boy repeated, moving forward timidly from the pile the three children had thrown themselves into. Two small grazes, bright red underneath the dirt that covered them, marred his cheek at the bone and his eyes were wet. He stepped up, using one hand to balance him as he began to scurry up the fallen earth. Behind him, Zia and Tao both began to sob quietly.

Finally jolted from his contemplation by Esteban's appearance at his side, Mendoza blinked and looked down, spurred into action by the urgency of the situation.

"Move." He spat unsymathetically into the pit, pushing his pistol back into his belt and indicating with his eyes the direction he wanted the boy to take. Esteban didn't move or even register the uncharacteristic worry in the mans voice. The young cartographer stopped, hands hanging by his sides, staring out into the clearing. Where beforehand lush green foliage had bordered it and thick fauna had provided an almost inpenetrable underbrush,
now the grass was brown, bleached like it had been too long in the sun. Similarly the edge of the canopy that bordered the clearing was scorched like paper that had been toasted in an oven to drive up the price of maps by
adding false authenticity.

"My God." Unconsciously his hand rose in front of his mouth and he crossed himself, his eyes not moving. There was no fire, no embers or ash, simply a drained appearance like something had leached the colour from the world. Even the sky above was pale with passing cloud, completing the isolation.

He heard a small gasp by his left ear and his eyes flickered to see Zia's brown eyes wide as the round faced and beautiful girl stared in awe and fear at the sight. Her head turned slightly to his own.

"What happened here?" She whispered.

"I don't know."