Tidal Wave

The Rhizon skid to a stop in the sandy dust. The scout,
Ryan, John, and Sarah stepped out
of the car. They approached the door, broken open
by the scouts. Sensing danger, they softened
Their footsteps to a quiet shuffle. Whoever drew and
quartered adult and child alike then ruined
the lock making it easier for them to enter
Could be near, after all. Any hint of slight banter
Had ceased as they flipped on a flashlight,
Ready for anything to jump into sight.

For an immense wave to come into life, the water
must prepare, run and retract further
until out of sight, it begins to contract
and pull back the arrow, the bow near-snap.

The metallic door creaked, they all jumped
and looked back to see a torso that crawled.
An unlikely survivor, covered in blood
which dried, then cracked, like crimson brown mud
all over his face and shirt. How he survived
is a mystery that one could only surmise.
Ryan ran to the man, seeking to help,
But the only thing that came back was a desperate yelp
Of a man who saw the end of a generation spoiled,
Their blood on their soil, their plan wholly foiled.

The water all gathers, like runners at a marathon,
Tensed up, builders of the tower of Babylon
before the confusion, the babble, the rubble,
the hint of which can only be seen by the small bubbles.

The traumatized man couldn’t separate friend from foe
but Ryan was too stubborn to let this great chance go, so
he shouted to John to help him get the limbless man up
and essentially told the guy to man up.
At this the stupefied man muttered ‘the plan was perfect’
Ryan asked the man, ‘what plan?’ Repeat, ‘the plan was perfect.’
“We’ll never get anything out of this clearly injured man.
How ’bout we take him back and help him best we can?”
John said. But when John saw a patient Ryan saw
a witness. He was here. The murderer left a flaw.

And in that intensity, the liquid starts to shake and
shiver as it longs to release its tired hand
from grasping onto the rope that held it all,
the dam of water, that mighty tower, that wants to fall.

“Hey, listen to me,” Ryan said to Sarah. “I know we just met, but you were able to tell me some incredible things. You said you could look into the future? Could you tell us his future? And keep in mind: whoever did this, could be near.” Ryan was referring to the Shifter, but only Sarah understood what was going on, as he brought attention to the gloves he wore and used to help the man up. For all Ryan knew, this man could be the Shifter, after all.

“No, look around you. Some of the wounds are ripped, as if their body parts were pulled off,” Sarah answered. John was surprised at how well she was taking this gory sight. “They didn’t just drop dead, but it is strange to me that some of these wounds were inflicted by themselves. I’d like to know if we can grab some of these weapons for ourselves. They’d definitely come in handy. John?”

“Oh, uh…” John remarked. “Sorry, I never got used to this stench. This bloody stench – this stink that… I can’t even imagine what it was like when you guys first opened it.” He looked at the scout in an apologetic manner. “You guys must’ve been scared off your asses.” Pause. “What were we talking about agai- oh right. These weapons. I suppose we can pack as much as we can into the Rhizon and see where that gets us.” At this, the scout started collecting some weapons and carried them out to the car. “But first, I think we need to assess what really happened here. Ryan, you told me you were in forensics before… well before the world went to shit. What do you think happened here? You seen anything like this?”

“Sarah’s right. Some of these wounds seem to be self-inflicted. And judging by their faces, I can see not only pain, but terror. Pure terror in their expressions. I don’t know what that means, but they were scared for their lives. And these knife wounds…” He inspected a body closely. “It looks like the wounds were made from the top. Like it… rained knives or something. That.. doesn’t make sense.”

“Kill! Kill!” The manic man screamed suddenly. He collapsed. The scout stood at the doorway, confused.

“What the…” John muttered.

“I… Did I do something wrong…?” The scout asked, stepping into the bunker once more.

Ryan let out a sigh. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. You just stood in the doorway. I assume that this image of a man standing at the entrance of the bunker created such a terrifying image for this poor man. He probably collapsed from the trauma.

“But that’s not the important thing. I faintly remember a similar case when I was working forensics – a case where various rich people died in a similar way. There were lacerations identified to be from either self-harm or vertical slices – again, as if knives rained down. Then, their limbs were torn off. We never did catch the killer, but there were direct orders from the Oligarchs that told us to stop the investigation.”

“And?” John asked.

“And?” Ryan repeated. “That was it. No more investigation. We stopped all inquiries and the killer was never found. But preliminary investigations showed some strange connections between the bodies. For one thing, they were all connected to some member of the Oligarchs. And I don’t mean just working under them. They were close with them. But we couldn’t get more. Everything we do was logged, so if we pushed it any further, we may have had to find another job. Though with the Oligarchs, I’m not sure if we would’ve been able to find one.”

“It’s really interesting that you mention the Oligarchs,” John commented. “You probably couldn’t see it because we blew the damn thing open, but the lock to the door for this bunker? Made by Prozer. And the door itself had Quincy’s symbol on it. Eric Quincy. Of Ricane.”

“Okay, so that means the killers’ one and the same, right?” Sarah asked. “You can just use what you know and help catch him, right?”

“Yeah, well, the problem is that even if the Oligarchs didn’t stop us from investigating, we didn’t really have a lead on this killer. It’s almost as if nobody entered the room where the person died. The security cameras were all broken, the killer left no fingerprints or anything on the knives that were left, and there were simply no witnesses. It’s as if everyone’s minds were just… wiped. And you saw how meticulous he is: there’s no shoeprint, anywhere around here. But aleast we have a witn-“

“Wait,” Sarah said. “Shush.” Everyone went quiet. “He’s coming.”

“They always return to the scene of the crime,” Ryan whispered. “Be careful, we don’t know what he’s capable of.”

They were quiet for a few seconds. The scout gestured that she heard someone approaching.

“Son of a bitch,” the voice muttered. “How the hell -” the voice paused. “Hey, the four of you in there! Who the fuck are you?!” They were confused. How did the voice know? It sounded like the voice was nowhere near the bunker door. Besides, they were in complete darkness. “Don’t make me make you come out!” Something about the voice sent shivers up their spines. They decided to step out, arms spread out as to show they don’t mean harm. Yet.

They slowly stepped out of the darkness, wincing at the sudden light. They were face to face with a man, dressed in rugged, bloodless clothes. His hands were in his pockets, and there were no weapons seen. His shoe was covered in the dust, and he was leaning against the Rhizon.

“Now, you guys better tell me clearly. Are you guys from the bunker?” The man asked.

“No, of course not. We’re… we’re from the Return,” John answered.

“The Return?” The man asked. He clearly did not know what John was talking about. “The hell is that?”

“We’re just a group of people who wants to rebuild civilization, basically,” Sarah said. “We have no affiliation with the Oligarchs whatsoever. You’re welcome to join, if you’re willing to help us.” John seemed surprised that she was offering this person, who he assumed must be the murderer. “Why are you here? I mean, there are a bunch of dead bodies in there, but we don’t want to assume you did this.”

“Oh, I did that alright,” he said. “And it felt very good.”

“What…?” John asked. “You’re just going to… admit that?”

“No government, right? That means no disciplinary actions. Besides, they deserved to die.”

“The children too?” Ryan asked. “There are children in there! Some of them would’ve been the same age as my daughter, if she were alive!”

“And that’s exactly why they deserved to die!” The man shouted. “You think you’re the only one that watched a loved one die? You think you’re the only one that had to suffer through losing the ones you love to the radiation that they released?”

“…The hell are you talking about?” Ryan asked.

“If you only knew… if you only knew what these people are… you’d agree with me,” he answered. “I was out there, living with my wife and daughter. I watched them slip in and out of consciousness, their hair fall out, the boil form on their skins. And while that happened, they were in here, just… living their lives! Free from all worries. They had to die.”

“So… what then? What now? Are you done?” Sarah asked.

“Now? I die in peace. I’m satisfied with wiping out these vermin from the face of the earth.”

“Wait,” Ryan said. “How’d you do it?”

“How’d I do what?”

“How’d you kill them? It was you who killed those rich folks too, right?”

“Oh, that?” He paused. “Well, at this point I’m sure that the Oligarchs would’ve attacked me if they had the chance. You guys are probably nice. But remember – one wrong move?” The way he said it sent another cold, dark shiver up their spines. “That bunker is your fate.

“So I guess I’ll have to tell you my story. But first, what are your names?”

“My name’s Sarah. That’s John, Ryan, and Anya. And what’s yours?”

“My name’s Hansen.”

---

Afterword.