Pierced Heart

Chapter I

There is madness in knowledge. People say that ignorance is bliss, and an unsettling feeling envelopes me as I realise just how right they may be.

I ponder this notion accompanying the remembrance of my father's passing and the absurd offer that I take his office as Chancellor of Security. This uncertainty plagues me as I slowly stroll along the boardwalk perusing various trinkets and odds-and-ends that are sold at the myriad of stands amidst the seaside marketplace.

Clouds loom in the horizon over the tops of the shamble-stands, as I call them, all along the ocean side directly juxtaposed to the much more prestigious shops along the left leading into the city.

The clouds, although foreboding, never amounts to much more than light rain; just enough to keep crops healthy and supply the populace.

Nearly four hundred years have passed since the Great Collapse, the whole world under a constant barrage of nuclear storms, and yet this little town in what once was Rhode Island never saw any of it. No storms nor hurricanes seized this land.

From the endless blue oblivion a fog starts to roll in, thin at first, growing ever more dense, nearly symbolic of my current mental state.

As I'm deep in the throws of thought contemplating the political proposal

I could not help but wonder at the seeming shroud of mystery surrrounding my father's death.

Taking into consideration the lack of technology these days, and the subsequent plateau of the medical field, the narrative of his passing never sat right with me.

My father was a wealthy and powerful aristocrat and politician who just passed away merely a few months prior due to complications with his health, leaving me in charge of his estate and all dealings regarding his affairs, personal and political. More so leaving me with an endless list of questions and concerns.

It is within these conjectures and contemplations wherein madness lies.

As it seems I am not the only one afflicted, for as I turn down an alley way, past one of the more upper-end shops, leading into the city, I hear a vagrant muttering to himself hunched over in an alcove. Clothed in rags and a long overcoat, the shaggy haired and bearded figure not only assails my olfactory senses with putrid disgust, but jumps up and grips my coat firmly. Now screaming, the madman pushes me against the wall,

"The key! The key is the key to the heart of the world! The key is the key, we must all find our key! Unlock the door, eat the key, swallow the heart and beat!"

Freeing myself of his clasp, I fearfully pushed the wretch away. Shocked and bewildered, I tear down the remaining stretch of the alley-way running as fast as my own legs can propel me. In record time I reach my family estate and quickly seal myself inside it's comforting walls. Gasping from the excitement of the ordeal I slide down the wall and begin to sob, for a maelstrom of emotions well up and nostalgia for my late father grips me harder than the lunatic had.

After my weeping spell, I shamble into the kitchen, dazed, and pour myself a stiff brandy drink quickly gulping it down hoping to steady my nerves.

Chapter II

The following day felt very melancholy as a light drizzle and overcast skies set the tone. The air was brisk with undertones of a salty nature from the ocean breeze traveling inland, causing me to pull my overcoat tight against it. I walked the streets of Oceanside, my home town and second largest city next to the capitol of the United and Free People, which resides a few miles to the North.

Avoiding the docks, for obvious reasons, I move westward through the city and inevitably pass the Council building where all the chancellors for our city meet and deliberate. As I gaze upward along the side of the highrise building I fix my eyes upon the official emblem of the UFP, a bull's head encircled with our motto etched along it's circumference: "We Will Prevail!"

The symbol which gave me hope and strength my whole life now loomed like an evil portent, and once again brought back memories of my father and the heated discussions between him and Chancellor Wilson in the days before his passing. I could only wonder what they fought about and if it had anything to do with my father's death. It was Chancellor Wilson who had found my father's body in his office and quickly had him cremated before any medical examiner or city official could investigate. These circumstances only solidified suspicion in my mind. Avoiding the trajectory of madness these thoughts would lead me to, I shook my head and cleared my mind of such things.

Eventually I came to the edge of the city's limits - a great hill that overlooked far to the West. I sat down rolling myself a cigarette and gazed out into the world, past the walls of the city, into the great and barren beyond of a ravaged world. Somewhere out there I knew the UFP was still fighting a war against the Federation and shuddered at the horrid thoughts of such brutality in an already decimated world.

Returning home I could hear the faint echoes of the steam powered train in the distance quickly drowned out by the loudspeakers in the street outside blaring the same tinny female voice as every evening, reminding everyone of the curfew set in place and to return to their homes.

Pouring myself yet another brandy drink, I stumbled through the house aimlessly, past the small paper wrapped box I've still yet to open, and wound up walking into my father's study. Leatherbound books lined the walls, but one I had always found peculiar, lay spread open upon the coffee table in the centre of the room. Betwixt it's unforgettable pages of ancient symbols lie a heavy brass key flattening the yellowed pages with it's weight. Withought thinking I grasped the key firmly in my hand and headed down the hall toward the only door in the whole estate my father had told me to never open, and in all my life I never dreamed of it until now. Standing in front of the dark oaken barrier, the words of the mad vagrant echoed in my head, " The key is the key to the Heart of the world."

I shook from the memory of the day before, spilling my drink and dropping the glass entirely. Whether gripped by some intense curiosity or pure lunacy, I thrust the key into the lock and shoved the heavy door open revealing an empty room, bearing nothing but a great wooden wardrobe and upon it was the carving of a bull's head, the same as our government's emblem, but instead of the motto, etched above it was the word M-O-L-O-C-H.

My heart began to pound heavily, slow and steady at first and quickening with each step I took across the room and turning to a full gallop as I touched the doors and flung them wide with maniacal fervour revealing a plush velvet pillow on which rested a silver carving in the shape of a human heart. It was roughly the size of a fist and must be some sort of necklace as a chain was affixed to it. Slowly wrapping my hand around it and bringing it closer I realized it was not my heart that was beating so loudly, but the pendant itself. Holding it at eye level I could see the light in the room bend around it, almost darkening around it in a tunnel-like view, as if the sheer weight of this thing was too much for reality to bear. With ever increased thumping, the heart's beat building to a crescendo, I felt weak and nearly faint. Suddenly it all came to a standstill. The beating dissipated and my vision returned to normal and the heart clicked and opened up revealing a pulsing ruby inside with faint echoes of the thumping accompanying the gem. I had now become aware of a groaning sound of wood and metal emanating from the oaken behemoth. Then the wardrobe itself started to move, sliding open like a door revealing a passge behind it carved out of stone and leading downward.

Guided by forces unknown or by sheer drunken idiocy, I closed the pendant, wrapped it around my neck and stepped into the tunnel.

Chapter III

The smooth stone of the tunnel was oddly neither dank nor damp and seemed mysteriously refreshing. The stone itself was nearly luminescent, casting a pale green glow providing just barely enough ambient light to traverse the expertly carved steps.

Winding downward with turns at seemingly irregular angles, I guessed at the distance of which I had been walking and thought it to be two miles, but possibly more, and in which direction I could not rightly fathom.

Eventually, after another mile or so walking, I could start to hear the soft crashing of waves on rock, and surmised I must have travelled eastward and was inside of the cliffs that look out to the ocean. I could not tell if I was above or below sea-level, not that it mattered much for I was on a fool's errand chasing ghosts and was merely entertaining vain attempts at distraction. Just as doubts and panick started to set in as the realisation of my circumstances began to unnerve me, I started to hear vague sounds roughly resembling language. I hurried along the passage and in the dim light nearly fell as the steps came to an opening and I gasped at the sight before me:

The tunnel sprawled out to a vast cave, roughly the size of town square, and in the centre of it was a great brass statue in the shape of a bucking bull. Underneath the monument was a grand fire, with ten foot high flames caressing the bull's belly. Surrounding the great effigy was a circle of darkly robed figures chanting in some unknown and cryptic language. I could not make out a single familiar syllable in the bizarre chant save for one word: M-O-L-O-C-H.

From the cliff's edge I could make out other small alcoves presumably denoting entrances to other tunnels and down in the valley of the expanse, adjacent to the nefarious group, was what appeared to be a young boy chained to a rock.

Furtively I made my way down the path, crouching as to stay undetected. Reaching the end of the trail, just behind the imprisoned youth, the chanting reached it's zenith and seemed to take on otherworldly qualities as the air vibrated with the energy of the esoteric annunciations and the pendant began to hum as if in response to a preternatural call.

Just as this began to happen, the robed persons reached into the confines of their dress, all producing identical amulets which appeared to hum as well.

The ritual now reaching a deafening climax, and the heart hanging at my breast humming at full strength, caused me to become dizzy and delirious much like when I first laid eyes upon the metallic organ. Entranced I stood, revealing myself, at the very moment all the amulets audibly burst open producing a red glow from the ruby embedded within, filling the area with a hellish aura.

I staggered forward guided by forces unbeknownst to me and reached the perimeter of the infernal group. The assumed congregation's leader turned to me, lowering their hood and through the cascade of shadow I made out the grayed and balding head of Chancellor Wilson.

"Mr. Pierce, we've been expecting you."