Faded Future
The future. It is a time that most people hope to be a place of Peace, of Truth, of Tranquility, of Love. The reality is far from most people’s hopes. Death, Greed and Secrecy rule supreme. Most of the major countries have used areas of Earth to test new forms of weapons, new ways of creating death and mass destruction. By now London covers most of England, and is Earth’s capital city. After the New Revolutionist War in 2104 America and Canada have been reduced to ash land and desert. Hydronic Volcinity Weapon testing in the Arctic got out of control and became unstable. It evaporated most biological life within 10,000 km. New Zealand, after being used for the testing of new Seismic weapon technology, has sunk under the sea, and shortly after Australia was broken into several islands. These are called Khwareznia, Dareznia, Jolumb, and the island covered in forest, Hkoluy. The Country that was once known as France is mainly agricultural land and farms. Berlin, Moscow, and Rome have all become super-cities, spanning hundreds of kilometers.
Chapter 1
A weary beginning
Borys Chenkov’s steely blue eyes flicked open from an restless sleep for the fifth time that day, and for a brief second fear registered across his see-able features. The remains of the nightmare of last night flew through his mind, images flashed through his sub-conscious. For a few times the night before Borys had been back at the time. The time. He could, even now, feel the incredible heat wave, which distorted the air and made it look red. He could, even now, see his sister and father burn, the flesh ripped from their bones by the same wave. There was not even any blood. All the blood was instantly burned to nothing.
The dreams had always been there, appearing when Borys was saddest, but recently they had arisen more and more, like a bubble that floats slowly but determinedly to the surface in a swamp. He shook the horrifying images from his head, and stood up, the small pile of rags falling off of him like cold, dry leaves. He knew that he would do this again tomorrow, the day after that and the day after that. So many days would pass, he knew, that there would no longer be any sense of time, space or anything. There would just be him. Alive. No others. All of them dead. Borys stretched.
“Whew. Sleeping…curled up every night…. really takes it out of… you,” Borys said to himself, pausing as he thought of himself. There were no others to speak to. They were all dead. Borys took a step out of the room. He could see outside as half of the modern house had fallen down and second floor had fallen away completely. The sun was just rising over the concrete jungle of Kaliniskov. It was the only beautiful sight Borys would see for a long time.
The rising sun also illuminated streets in front of him. Borys’s shoulders sagged as the devastation of the outside world met his sight. Piles of once human ash lay on the once cement streets. Now the streets were cracked. Not by weeds and plants, but by the bomb that exploded nearly 10,000 kilometres away. Borys walked over to the edge of the landing and pulled himself down onto the ground below. No noise. Only Borys. Everyone else dead. Borys noticed for the first time the arrival of wind. There had been no wind in Kaliniskov since the…catalyst.
17 years ago, when Borys was only 10, the news had come up on the television with an urgent report. A huge explosion had been reported just 200 miles south of the North Pole. The information was extremely sketchy, but the special government correspondent reported that the incident was contained, and there was nothing to be afraid of. Two hours later, the remains of the heatwave hit Kaliniskov. The houses on the north west side of the small town were instantly demolished. Borys had gone there when he was 15. The ground was completely levelled. Even plants did not try to get a new hold on life.
After the heatwave demolished the north west side of town, a relatively small amount of heat carried on through the town, wreaking houses with wooden supports and vaporising all life within 2 miles. All in the city died that day. Apart from Borys.
To that day Borys had no idea how he had survived. He could remember being in his house with his mother. He lived at the end of a long street, almost a cul-de-sac, so he could see the heatwave approaching. Even in its weakened state, he still witnessed the heatwave rip people apart and at once incinerate the ashes that appeared. The lampposts melted, the manhole covers disappeared, letting the pure thermal energy pour down into the sewers, roasting the rats, boiling the stinking water. The rats may have squealed in pain, but the noise from the boiling water, which almost instantly away, drowned out all over sound. Other manhole covers exploded upwards and flame rose out. It was for Borys, whose only home up till that time had been Kaliniskov, the Apocalypse, the end of time. Yet he survived. Borys dimly remembered darkness, and when he awoke, hours, maybe days later, everything was quiet.
Time dulls everything, even the worst of memories. Borys now felt only slight remorse for the dead. Rather, he felt more remorse for the living. The dead are lucky when a disaster happens, as they go on to paradise, heaven, the after-life. The living have to push on being alive in hell. Borys felt like that now. All the grieving had ended. When you have to fight for your life every day, you have no room for grief for others.
Borys was musing on this as he was walking, and suddenly he stopped dead. He hadn’t realised just how far he had walked. He was now faced with one of the many shadows in his life. The end of Kaliniskov. Borys had never ventured out of the city’s limits. He had never walked past the small blue and white sign that read: “Welcome to Kaliniskov”. He didn’t know why. Several reasons had formulated in his head. One was that he felt that as he hadn’t experienced his parents death himself, maybe they were still alive, wondering where he was, too scared to leave whatever shelter they had found, and by terrible luck when he decided to leave the town, they would come looking for him. They wouldn’t find him if he left. Borys just couldn’t accept that they were gone. Borys felt a slight wind pick up from the west. He turned and faced the red setting sun, silhouetting the scars of the bomb attack. He turned again, and with the wind in his face, he walked.
Two days later, Borys was sitting in the centre of a low concrete building in the middle of an old farm. Borys couldn’t believe his luck when he saw it. The main barn had managed to block off most of the heat from the explosion and most of the windows where intact. A small portion of the corner of the wall had collapsed, and the metal roof was rusted in the centre. He claimed it immediately. So Borys now struggled to keep warm despite the fact that the season was late summer. Or possibly early autumn. Borys could no lunger keep track of the time.
His long coat was dragged around to the East by the wind through the open door, as if beckoning him to return to Kaliniskov. He felt as if Death’s Handmaiden was trying to lure him back to his doom. Borys’s train of thought was derailed in less than a second then, however.
A heart-gripping screech filled the air around Borys, and while it only lasted a second, the sound rang through Borys’s head for what seemed like an age, pulling open new doors in his mind, and slamming old ones shut. Each door’s movement inreased Borys's fear, until he was filled with it, and he felt as if he might explode with terror. Dark shapes ran in front of Borys’s eyes, and the darkening sky seemed to be filled with demons and imps. He half leapt, half staggered to his feet and heard a quiet sound, almost a hiss. He turned and there, only just viewable in the darkening light, was a large creature. It was only lit by the steadily diminishing light, so Borys could only see the shape of its body, which was like a huge square maggot, and a few needle like mouth parts. It had no see able eyes. It hissed again and leapt through the window with such force it knocked over a small part of the wall underneath. Borys’s eyes may have been focused on the terrifying creature before him, but he still heard a small amount of scratching on the roof above him. The creature leapt again. This time Borys could see what it was going to do, and he dodged the leap and ran from the small hut, whilst the creature destroyed most of the wall. The creature screamed this time, and this noise was followed by a squealing noise. Borys stopped running and turned around. The roof collapsed with a huge bang, and the creature was crushed beneath the metal and concrete. Bits of old metal flew everywhere, and a large piece spun towards Borys, slicing about half an inch into his the skin above his waist. The steadily diminishing light began to grow dark for Borys. He collapsed with blood beginning to pump out of his side. It mixed with the dust below him to make mud. Maybe it was just his brain reacting to the shock of the wound, but he could swear that the light around him was brightening, sparkling, almost coruscating with holy light and energies. The last thing Borys heard as he faded into the dark and terrifying world of unconsciousness, was a crunching sound, and the last thing he smelled was the powerful smell of petrol.
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