The Overlord: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel (4 page)

I tried her knowledge, "What were those things in the water?"

"Echoes," she groaned. "Forgotten folk. Out here in the wasteland, we all have to learn to stay alive in our own way. Some of us have survived while others have evolved. Those things you saw were just like you and me once, only now they're hungrier."

"Quite the appetite," I recoiled.

"It's really you, isn't it? You've finally come back after all this time." The operative then shook her head, thinking she had been rude. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to be so informal."

She then struck her heart with her fist before bending her arm out at a right angle. Her fingers then opened from her clamped knuckles like flower pedals in the morning. The other two followed her lead. It was the official greeting of the Thralldom, a gesture that signified the Wandering Star.

"Hail, Overlord," she addressed as she took a knee to bow.

I found her adoration completely absurd. Here I was in a ruggedly aging flight suit with an unrelenting beard. Topped with the hair of a wild dog, I probably smelled like one too. This girl probably wasn't even alive when I had ruled the world. Yet, there she was at my feet as if I had led her by the hand her whole life. 

"Get up," I ordered harshly.

She obeyed and switched to a less formal and more matter of fact way of welcoming me. "I'm Sentria," the young woman introduced. "I serve the Thralldom. We are the reception of your return."

I thought to myself as to what sort of reception this was exactly. Were their intentions malicious? Even if they were, I didn't consider these three youths to be menacing opponents for someone like me anyway. I didn't feel the need for playing defensive mind games, though, so I went straight to the point.

"Have you come to kill me?" I probed.

"You're not the threat," the young squad leader replied.

"Then who is?" I asked in return.

The girl detached her helmet and revealed a grim visage beneath her fluid hair. "Everyone else," she coldly answered.

As she guided hair strands out of her face, I noticed a peculiar garment sticking out of the neck of her armor. It looked like some sort of scarf, blue with white stars. Just as I caught a glimpse of it, Sentria tucked it away, out of my sight. She must've had some reason to hide the cloth and probably thought I didn't see it. She wouldn't be able to tell if I had, being how my eyes were hiding behind a pair of mirrored shades. 

I knew she couldn't see my eyes, but it felt like she was staring straight into them regardless. She was searching for any kind of meaning in my facial language. Whether or not she deciphered anything from my inflections, one thing would be for certain. If she did happen to look at me straight in the eyes, she wouldn't be able to handle what was swelling within them.

It was during this moment that I suddenly felt like I was looking upon someone familiar. I couldn't quite figure it out. Sentria reminded me of someone with the way she talked and the way she stood. Maybe it was the look on her face. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn't toting standard armaments. 

The other two Thralls were packing all manners of clear plastic firepower, but Sentria was simply holding a palm over the hilt of a holstered pistol. It was a genuine sidearm made from metal, semiautomatic from way before her time. I carried a similar weapon on my person as well. I then realized what it was about her that had struck familiarity. The girl reminded me of myself.

All the same, it mattered not. She had just revealed her belief that the greatest threat to humanity was humanity itself. I couldn't agree more, but I didn't know what lengths these Thralls were willing to go to counteract that presumed threat. I couldn't risk becoming another accidental advocate for another potentially genocidal war.

"I want no part in the latest scheme to take over the world, Thrall," I sternly stated.

"How fortunate," Sentria attested. "For I'm here to propose a more peaceful solution."

I questioned, "What exactly would that be?"

"You." Her simple, one-word answer threw a hefty blow.

Out of my conscious control, a flood of horrible memories came upon me. I remembered the Last War, how I saw humanity fall from its own destructive greed. My eyes had seen many die, many disappear, and many good people turn into the lowest of life forms.

Worst of all, I recalled the one I loved, my beloved wife. I recalled the look on her face the day I left for deep space, choosing my mission over her. We were both so young then. The memory consumed me. All I ever wanted was to better humanity, but somehow I lost my own along the way.

"I tried to save mankind once," I muttered, sad and troubled. "All I ended up doing was enslaving it."

"Is that why you left?" Sentria asked.

Her question was not based in her own simple curiosity. There was an agenda there. There were other motives at work. Since such a complex answer could only be answered with complexity, I chose a path of mystery instead.

"My story is not one of black and white, right or wrong," I said. "It's a story about evil. The book is closed now, so don't try to reopen the pages. They've all worn out."

"Yet, it would seem a new chapter has just begun," she skillfully countered. This girl was quicker and sharper than the steel knife latched in a sheath on my thigh, and I could cut through anything with that blade.

Despite my admiration for her skill, I had to stand my ground. I harshly advanced up to her so that I might make my point even clearer. As I did, I could feel the pulse quicken in the other two operatives at either side of me. Sentria raised a hand for them to keep calm and stand down. I then approached her, face to face. She didn't falter in a confident stance. Not even a blink. Why was she so sure I wasn't dangerous?

"I don't know what you want, but whatever it is, it's not what you'll get, one way or the other," I declared as we nearly exchanged each other's exhales.

In reply, Sentria brought forth an intolerable thought, "You ruled this world once with the greatest power mankind had ever seen, a power that exists only in you for you alone to wield. Why not retake this planet for yourself?"

I exclaimed in interruption, "Enough!" I could barely stomach it anymore.

"You were the rise of the first of your kind," persisted the young warrior.

"And now I'm nothing more than the fall of the last!" I angrily contravened. A moment of necessary silence followed as I turned from her line of sight to catch my escaped breath. In my heaving, I softly murmured, "I've made my choice. I'll never be who I once was."

"I see," she said with finality.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sentria signaling with her hands some kind of order to the other two Thralls. She was planning a course of action. I turned my head back round to examine what was going on. There, I found her gaze already fixed back onto me, remorseful.

She let out a deep sigh. "I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this."

"Come to what?" I asked, though I was sure I already knew the answer.

I then heard the disquieting noise of ammunition being charged up in the hefty battle rifles to my left and right. The two operatives enclosed in, promptly raising their readied weapons. As they did, Sentria quickly swung out her pistol toward me. Aimed for my heart, she steadied the barrel on a raised forearm.

"My Overlord," she proclaimed, unyieldingly. "By order of the Thralldom, you're under arrest for desertion."

Seemingly trapped from their point of view, I took the opportunity to show off just who exactly they were dealing with. I swiftly took hold of Sentria's arm and came up behind her with great speed. From that position, I directed to puppeteer her arm to point her pistol to her very own head. It was just a scare tactic, I had no reason or desire to actually kill her.

"Fools," I arrogantly ridiculed. "I'm not so easily taken. None one of you are capable of defeating me in combat."

"Wait!" Sentria pleaded, "There is something that haunts you. I can see it plain as day. Whatever it is, is it worth killing us to get away?"

"No. For it’s the act of killing that haunts me." I then freed her from my grasp as I raised up my hands in compliant surrender. The other two Thralls wasted no time in clenching my arms. "Just know that I wouldn't need to kill any of you to get away. I could vanish from your presence in the instant that it'd take you to fire a single round."

"Then why bother surrendering at all?" Sentria legitimately asked as she clamped my wrists together with a pair of electric cuffs.

"Because I want to know something," I sneered.

Sentria squinted in distrust, "Know what?"

"I want to know what you want," I answered truthfully.

A smirk then slipped out from the sides of her lips as she holstered the cold steel of her pistol, "You'll find out soon enough, my Overlord. One way or the other."

I complimented her choice of hardware, "That's a nice piece, by the way."

"I prefer the feel of a real gun than one of those shards of plastic junk," she nodded. "It's one of the only ones left like it. You can't find solid handguns anymore." 

Sentria then took notice of my own revolver that was attached to my hip. Seizing the prized weapon, she examined the unrivaled craftsmanship. "The Dragon's Throat. I've heard stories about this firepower. Perfect sights with never a shot to leave a survivor. Stock and hilt crafted from both steel and bone, but whose bones, I wonder? Or do I even want to know?"

I didn't answer. In actuality, the hefty pistol was a custom gift from a Tanzanian trader that I knew in the Last War. As to where that smith got the bones, I'm told it was a rogue lion, a troublesome man-eater."

"I don't imagine this takes hyper-rounds," she assumed.

She was right. I confirmed, "We're probably the only two people left in the whole word still packing real bullets."

Sentria smiled at me in amused agreement as she proceeded to pat me down for more contraband. Unsheathing my lengthy knife from its strap, she astounded, "This must the Dragon's Tooth."

Another gift of the same trader, the Dragon's Tooth was a fanglike blade derived from the same lion. Unlike the mastery of its pistol companion, there was nothing ornate about the knife. The steel and bone design was rather plain looking. It was ridged at the bottom, slated at the top, and a carved hilt that had been spooled over with some old paracord.

The Dragon's Tooth had one bonus, though. The magnetic tracker rooted into its hilt. Linked to my left glove, the boomerang effect was a handy retrieval after a killing throw. The fresh slime on the blade was proof.

I entertained the young Captain's fascination, "They say there's a chip in the blade for every man it's killed."

There were hundreds of imperfections across the bony knife's edge, but not even I knew if that legend was true. My first kill was done in self-defense. It ripped my soul apart and I've stopped calculating the tally from then on.

Strangely, Sentria smiled to herself as she secured the knife into the waistline of her body armor. It could've been that she knew I was bluffing. Perhaps, she knew the legend was true and I simply didn't. It could've just been that she knew I didn't know the real story either way. Whatever was the cause of that smile, she set the thought aside as she swiveled back to the ominous cloud that was sitting behind us. The young woman twirled her arm in the air, signaling for what I presumed was a departure.

As lightning pierced through the shroud, an aerial transport ship suddenly soared out from the concealment of the smoky screen above. The whirring engines then hovered overhead to our position. Like an intricate machine of glass, the ship was sleek and crystal clear. Its translucent body revealed the neon mechanics within, along with the cockpit and all the instruments. The intriguing ship's identification was labeled on its side. The "Tomahawk", its title read. Aptly designated, the contours of the craft resembled an axe head, like one that had been removed from its handle.

"Prepare to board!" Sentria commanded.

Like a crack of gunfire, compact jet packs ignited from each of their backs. A hatch then opened up above us, leading to the loading bay of the "Tomahawk's" belly. Sentria levitated into the air and gave a nod to the other two operatives. Grabbing hold of me by my underarms, they lifted me up. Together, we all rose and disappeared inside the hatch.

When the cargo door slid shut below us, we set our feet down onto the loading bay. Inside, I could hear the main engine boosting up. Not a second later, the "Tomahawk" zoomed out into the expanse beyond. We had departed from the desolate shoreline where the remains of my celestial ship could be seen, slowly sinking beneath the waves.

The axe headed ship then glided across the countless dunes of the desert wasteland. After some time, we reached the sand's end. At its edge was a high, barbwire fence. Marked with skull icons, it was the warning boundary for the domain of the Thralls. The fence surrounded a peculiar sight, a vast labyrinth of trees and ferns. The line between the woods and the wasteland was so sudden and drastic that it almost felt like a mirage had formed through the transparent exterior of the ship.

At the center of the approaching rainforest stood the glassy pyramid of the Thralldom, the center of operations. The structure was an old magnificence, fallen prey to the vines and moss between the dark trees. Captain Sentria set her ship down in front of its immensity. Arriving at the base of all Thralls, she had brought me home to my Lair.