You can’t catch a number traveling to infinity. We might attempt to put a label on it. One ninth. Two Thirds. But the convenience of these tags only serves to underscore our inability to truly comprehend the infinite and endless nature of these numbers.
I have a label too.
Indeed, my tag of ‘Edward’ is just that, a label. A focus point with which to grasp the concept of my being.
But I, too, am traveling to infinity.
My ambitions and desires soar past the shackled frame of an identity. These are my dreams. My dreams.
My dreams become the substance of my existence.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Chapter 59
Witticker hurried after Edward ahead of him who was running down the city streets, dodging through ancient automobile carcasses, away from an angry mob dressed in black. The two travelers had begun their escape when their newest pursuers voiced a rather loud ultimatum with which Edward was not immediately prepared to deal.
Witticker huffed and wheezed as he sprinted over and around the steel gauntlets in his path. As he passed through the aged intersections the falling sun peeked between the monstrous buildings, bursting across the landscape and reflecting intensely in the few shiny surfaces still remaining. The sound of heels clicked in cacophony behind him, a deafening battle cry rattling off the building sides.
“Where are we going?” bellowed Witticker, his voice stealing air from his lungs already short supply.
“Don’t know! Come on!” shot Edward’s voice from up ahead.
Witticker jumped up on a heap of rubble and looked back. The streets were enveloped with bodies, like a wall of black water flowing through every crack and crevice of the street. He jumped down and ran towards the next slim opening between two cars, one lifted off the ground at an angle. It was tight and he pushed the angled car forward, slipping into the narrow and forced passage. There was a sudden snap…
BLOOD
Witticker pulled himself from the metal vice. He groped at his side which had sprung into pain as the car fell from its angled stance. He looked down to see the place where the sharp edge of the car bumper had sliced into his side only to find a damp circle of red. He looked up in the direction of his companion, the waves of footsteps washing through the streets from behind.
“Edward, wait!” cried Witticker as he lunged forward to follow, only to fall to his knees in pain.
Witticker curled to the ground as his fate began to realize itself all around him. Time slowed down. Every second fell within the speed of a drop of water far above in the sky. The sound of footsteps echoed in every direction, encompassing every open space. When the footsteps finally approached him directly, Witticker sprang up from his fetal position with a violent cry, launching his final attack on the vicious hunters.
His lunge was caught by a strong pair of hands and pulled down. Edward threw Witticker’s arm over his shoulder, meeting him face to face. He pulled him to his feet and hurriedly guided him into the stately building he had collapsed nearest to.
“We might be able to lose them in here,” growled Edward, his breathing labored as he dragged Witticker into the doorway. “There’re a lot of tunnels in here.”
Witticker’s vision swam as he swept through the entrance. He caught sight of a wooden sign as he drifted by. The sign had fallen from its original posting, hanging by an edge on the wall just past the door.
Witticker stumbled as they entered the expansive hall which was dark in the dusk of the day. The ceiling was obscured in shadow, but the injured traveler could tell from the echoes of their steps that it extended very high into that darkness. Edward kicked at the piles of luggage blocking the stairway into the great hall as he guided Witticker deeper into the terminal. The boxes bounced down the stairs, crashing violently onto the thick tiled floor. The great cases burst open, clothing and personals flying across the sprawling floor from the ancient containers.
“We just need to get down to one of those tunnels,” whispered Edward into Witticker’s ear. He repeated the mantra as the rattle of footsteps echoed madly from the street entrance. He pulled Witticker down the stairs, having him balance his unsupported side on the steel hand rail. As they reached the main floor Edward hurried Witticker across the floor towards the information counter in the center of the room.
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
The stunning knocks, as if a made by a judge’s gavel, reverberated forever in the massive space. Edward stopped and panned slowly across the room in search of the source. Witticker raised his head from his sporadically conscious state to scan across the enormous hall. In the distance, in the center of the open floor, he made out the figure of man, long and tall. He shook his head hoping that the man’s proportions were a side-effect, a hallucination from the pain, but as he strained to look again he could see that he had made no mistake. The figure raised a large staff by his side.
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
Edward’s extended visual of the room came to rest on the prominent figure as Witticker shakily raised his hand to point out the source of the booming sound. Jehovah began to move closer, his finer features obscured by shadow, but his stature unmistakable. His long coat whipped at his sides with each stride through the hall.
“It ends here,” rumbled Jehovah through the archaic terminal, “It is time.”
The clatter of footsteps rang through the air as the golden acolytes entered the decaying terminal like a flood. Edward looked up towards the stairs as more and more bodies rushed in through the door, filling the upper tier of the station. He pulled Witticker up from the slump he had fallen in to and began to approach Jehovah, coming to a stop next to the dusty information booth.
“We have to pass,” shouted Edward to the giant, “there’s more to this than you know.”
“Oh,” bellowed the deep voice, “I know all too well.”
Jehovah came to a stop in the middle of the room.
“That man is the threat. He should have already been dead. But it was you all along. I underestimated you before, but now I remember.”
Jehovah swept his hand across the scope of the room. As his arm passed through the open air Witticker’s hung head caught a glimpse of something through the hunter’s open coat. Thin brown cylinders strapped across the breadth of his chest. The sea of acolytes clattered down the stairs onto the terminal floor. They rushed at the two men from behind. Witticker tugged at Edward’s loose jacket.
“I never failed!” roared Jehovah, his voice climbing to the highest point of the room, "In what world have my will or my strength of mind failed? I have no fear! I am fear!"
Witticker pulled sharply on Edward’s coat, forcefully directing his attention downward.
“Move,” hissed Witticker, forcing the breath from his body, “Move!”
*~~*
The first moment was just the sound. It rolled through the room, rushing over and out of every living and dead thing like a gust of wind.
The next moment was saturated with light. It spread from the origin to fill the whole room in the fiery design. It cleansed the hall, bursting through every opening, wrapping everything that walked or chased or followed in brilliant light.
The fire wrecked through the building. Shattering the tiles and the steel window panes. Pouring out into the street. The building stood, but different than before.
The final moment was quiet. The world had been silenced. The moment was serene and the landscape peaceful.
*~~*
The terminal smoked in a scarred state. The pillars of the once great hall had been shocked by the explosion, the façade crumbling down the edges of each column. The crumbs of the building fell from every wall as Edward pushed his way from underneath the remains of the information desk, pulling Witticker from the small doorway he had been blown into. He carried the injured explorer over the rubble of tiles that had been ripped from the vaulted ceiling. He found a level spot next to the center of the cavernous hall where he gently laid him down. Edward bent over his friend and companion, holding his head upright.
“Just hold on,” cried Edward, shaking the man for any sign of vitality.
*~~*
Witticker coughed violently as his head was raised from its sunken position. He had begun to lose the sensations of pain. Everything began to go numb. His vision began to spin as he looked for Edward’s face.
“Don’t let this…don’t let this happen again,” coughed Witticker, “Give them a choice…this time. Any choice. Just don’t forget…don’t forget again.”
The spinning began to take over again and his head fell. He felt his body move and shake, but it was beyond his control. The shaking was not his own and he knew that. The pain subsided, leaving his muscles limp and raw. The whirling vision spun and spun until slowly fading. Fading away until everything was gone.
The boy waves goodbye…
…to the fallen man…
…who taught him about life.
Click.
Witticker huffed and wheezed as he sprinted over and around the steel gauntlets in his path. As he passed through the aged intersections the falling sun peeked between the monstrous buildings, bursting across the landscape and reflecting intensely in the few shiny surfaces still remaining. The sound of heels clicked in cacophony behind him, a deafening battle cry rattling off the building sides.
“Where are we going?” bellowed Witticker, his voice stealing air from his lungs already short supply.
“Don’t know! Come on!” shot Edward’s voice from up ahead.
Witticker jumped up on a heap of rubble and looked back. The streets were enveloped with bodies, like a wall of black water flowing through every crack and crevice of the street. He jumped down and ran towards the next slim opening between two cars, one lifted off the ground at an angle. It was tight and he pushed the angled car forward, slipping into the narrow and forced passage. There was a sudden snap…
BLOOD
Witticker pulled himself from the metal vice. He groped at his side which had sprung into pain as the car fell from its angled stance. He looked down to see the place where the sharp edge of the car bumper had sliced into his side only to find a damp circle of red. He looked up in the direction of his companion, the waves of footsteps washing through the streets from behind.
“Edward, wait!” cried Witticker as he lunged forward to follow, only to fall to his knees in pain.
Witticker curled to the ground as his fate began to realize itself all around him. Time slowed down. Every second fell within the speed of a drop of water far above in the sky. The sound of footsteps echoed in every direction, encompassing every open space. When the footsteps finally approached him directly, Witticker sprang up from his fetal position with a violent cry, launching his final attack on the vicious hunters.
His lunge was caught by a strong pair of hands and pulled down. Edward threw Witticker’s arm over his shoulder, meeting him face to face. He pulled him to his feet and hurriedly guided him into the stately building he had collapsed nearest to.
“We might be able to lose them in here,” growled Edward, his breathing labored as he dragged Witticker into the doorway. “There’re a lot of tunnels in here.”
Witticker’s vision swam as he swept through the entrance. He caught sight of a wooden sign as he drifted by. The sign had fallen from its original posting, hanging by an edge on the wall just past the door.
Witticker stumbled as they entered the expansive hall which was dark in the dusk of the day. The ceiling was obscured in shadow, but the injured traveler could tell from the echoes of their steps that it extended very high into that darkness. Edward kicked at the piles of luggage blocking the stairway into the great hall as he guided Witticker deeper into the terminal. The boxes bounced down the stairs, crashing violently onto the thick tiled floor. The great cases burst open, clothing and personals flying across the sprawling floor from the ancient containers.
“We just need to get down to one of those tunnels,” whispered Edward into Witticker’s ear. He repeated the mantra as the rattle of footsteps echoed madly from the street entrance. He pulled Witticker down the stairs, having him balance his unsupported side on the steel hand rail. As they reached the main floor Edward hurried Witticker across the floor towards the information counter in the center of the room.
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
The stunning knocks, as if a made by a judge’s gavel, reverberated forever in the massive space. Edward stopped and panned slowly across the room in search of the source. Witticker raised his head from his sporadically conscious state to scan across the enormous hall. In the distance, in the center of the open floor, he made out the figure of man, long and tall. He shook his head hoping that the man’s proportions were a side-effect, a hallucination from the pain, but as he strained to look again he could see that he had made no mistake. The figure raised a large staff by his side.
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
Edward’s extended visual of the room came to rest on the prominent figure as Witticker shakily raised his hand to point out the source of the booming sound. Jehovah began to move closer, his finer features obscured by shadow, but his stature unmistakable. His long coat whipped at his sides with each stride through the hall.
“It ends here,” rumbled Jehovah through the archaic terminal, “It is time.”
The clatter of footsteps rang through the air as the golden acolytes entered the decaying terminal like a flood. Edward looked up towards the stairs as more and more bodies rushed in through the door, filling the upper tier of the station. He pulled Witticker up from the slump he had fallen in to and began to approach Jehovah, coming to a stop next to the dusty information booth.
“We have to pass,” shouted Edward to the giant, “there’s more to this than you know.”
“Oh,” bellowed the deep voice, “I know all too well.”
Jehovah came to a stop in the middle of the room.
“That man is the threat. He should have already been dead. But it was you all along. I underestimated you before, but now I remember.”
Jehovah swept his hand across the scope of the room. As his arm passed through the open air Witticker’s hung head caught a glimpse of something through the hunter’s open coat. Thin brown cylinders strapped across the breadth of his chest. The sea of acolytes clattered down the stairs onto the terminal floor. They rushed at the two men from behind. Witticker tugged at Edward’s loose jacket.
“I never failed!” roared Jehovah, his voice climbing to the highest point of the room, "In what world have my will or my strength of mind failed? I have no fear! I am fear!"
Witticker pulled sharply on Edward’s coat, forcefully directing his attention downward.
“Move,” hissed Witticker, forcing the breath from his body, “Move!”
*~~*
The first moment was just the sound. It rolled through the room, rushing over and out of every living and dead thing like a gust of wind.
The next moment was saturated with light. It spread from the origin to fill the whole room in the fiery design. It cleansed the hall, bursting through every opening, wrapping everything that walked or chased or followed in brilliant light.
The fire wrecked through the building. Shattering the tiles and the steel window panes. Pouring out into the street. The building stood, but different than before.
The final moment was quiet. The world had been silenced. The moment was serene and the landscape peaceful.
*~~*
The terminal smoked in a scarred state. The pillars of the once great hall had been shocked by the explosion, the façade crumbling down the edges of each column. The crumbs of the building fell from every wall as Edward pushed his way from underneath the remains of the information desk, pulling Witticker from the small doorway he had been blown into. He carried the injured explorer over the rubble of tiles that had been ripped from the vaulted ceiling. He found a level spot next to the center of the cavernous hall where he gently laid him down. Edward bent over his friend and companion, holding his head upright.
“Just hold on,” cried Edward, shaking the man for any sign of vitality.
*~~*
Witticker coughed violently as his head was raised from its sunken position. He had begun to lose the sensations of pain. Everything began to go numb. His vision began to spin as he looked for Edward’s face.
“Don’t let this…don’t let this happen again,” coughed Witticker, “Give them a choice…this time. Any choice. Just don’t forget…don’t forget again.”
The spinning began to take over again and his head fell. He felt his body move and shake, but it was beyond his control. The shaking was not his own and he knew that. The pain subsided, leaving his muscles limp and raw. The whirling vision spun and spun until slowly fading. Fading away until everything was gone.
The boy waves goodbye…
…to the fallen man…
…who taught him about life.
Click.
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