The Siege

Many tools have been used over the ages in an attempt to track time. They increasingly became more sophisticated and least often would predict the coming of the end of times. History is now the keepsake of the old and sage. In this era where an individual’s lifespan could easily surpass 120 years, Earth’s history is successfully passed on through tales of old. However, years, months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds have become a relic only to be replaced by growing times and winters. It is said that a full 150 winters have passed since the siege occured that threw the world into archaism.

Amerie was born about fifteen growing seasons ago into a small family; which is rare now. Most homes are now just hulls and carcasses of abandoned buildings and family units are made up of eight or more people on average. Because of her small frame and relative cunning, she’s often the one who sources tools and grains for the family to use to try and procure a garden. Theft and swindling are rampant and most times the younger ones are most likely to return home with something to show for it. When she leaves home to forage, she’s sure to keep her face primarily covered. The sun can be brutal when the sun is most high and many of the elders believe that the earth’s protective layers were destroyed much after the siege so the harmful rays can also be deadly. To add to that, the air is humid and smells of kerosene and brimstone. If you’re unlucky enough, you can even taste a tinge of bitterness in the air.

As she maneuvers throughout the zone, she creeps under fences and crawls over the catacombs of former monuments and skyscrapers in any event she never strays too far off of her normal path. The last standing governments marked forbidden areas where the invaders landed. Brittle signs marked “arcangel” are a warning for when you are close to approaching these areas.

As she’s tucked away in a mass of rubble, a rat scurries across her feet. This is a sign that food is near. She follows it under an overpass of brush mixed with rebar. Where someone has set up a small market for bartering. She creeps forward, rehearsing in her mind what she’ll have to offer in order to bring back enough food for her family for the week. As she gets closer, she approaches the back of a man about 10 ft in front of her; lurkishly stood in front of the market owner’s table. He’s covered in dark brown soiled canvas and barefoot. Her senses are alerted and she attempts to make herself smaller as if she could shrink into a crack. As she steps backwards, she’s able to round a corner where she is out of sight but still in earshot. She can hear mumbling groans and quickly realizes that this is about to be a deal-gone-wrong. The mumbles turn into shouting and thrashing of gourds and metal bowls.

Amerie’s heart starts to beat faster but she tries to control her breathing so as not to make too much noise. Then, a gunshot. Guns are not often seen now as bullets have been next to impossible to procure. Her eyes widen and she sinks to the ground. She slowly cranes her around the corner to see the aftermath of the melee. The cloaked man is dead still and the market owner is slumped, clutching his chest. She runs over to him.

“Sir, Sir!” , she screams.

He grimaces and gives her a sweeping motion.

“Take it all, hurry”, he says aspiratedly.

She stares into his eyes as his breathing shallows and slows. She opens her bag and thrusts as much as possible into the bag almost to its breaking point. Then she stuffs whatever else she can in an empty, dried gourd that she has tied around her waist. She sprints back home.

Amerie lives with her mom, dad, grandfather and little brother. When she arrives, her mom’s big brown eyes receive her warmly.

“Wow, what a bount”, her mom declares.

Her grandfather errupts, “This is means for celebration!”

Her gut turns with guilt on how she came upon her riches. Her grandfather was small when the siege occurred but remembers it vividly. Every so often he recounts the tale which is often received warmly from Amerie’s little brother, Atmos. After dinner has been prepared over fire he starts:

“The entire day was normal, leading up to that moment. On the way to school, my mother grabbed us breakfast from a convenience machine. I had a toasted english muffin, a round piece of bread named after a nation that was called England, with smoked gouda and meatless sausage. I can explain the meatless and the sausage later. My mom always had an avocado shake. It was her ritual. As we walked up to the front of the school, we felt a small shift in the ground that kind of rocked us on our heels. I looked and noticed that my mom’s shake had painted the top of her shirt in a bright green. She always wore a necklace with a photo of her and my father, the same necklace Amerie wears. She took it off and put it around my neck to wipe herself dry. The alarm sounded. She bent down to kiss my forehead and hugged me. That was the last time I saw her.”

Atmos interrupts, “Tell us the part about the archangels.”

“Of course.”, grandpa retorts.

“Not much after I had gotten to class, alerts were coming in from the international space station that unidentified objects would be entering the atmosphere and that we should search a fallout shelter or lower ground. Everyone was frantic at this point but then the sky became red. We could see in the distance fiery columns descending onto earth. The news was simultaneously showing the epic live. Unless you were directly underneath one of these cylinder pods, the impact was not as bad as it could have been. Then, there was silence. All of our attention was then placed on the news footage we were watching from our teacher's computer. The sound of crunching metal screeched from the speaker and we could see these columns digging into the earth’s surface. We screamed just at the sight.”

He pauses, then continues. “Then we couldn’t believe our eyes. We watched as a swarm flew from the pods. We thought they were giant birds but cameras on drones captured close up imagery. They had bodies and heads like us, gray-white hair, golden skin, and large wings sprouting from their shoulders. They flew so fast. Once they were viewed as a threat, all sorts of military might was sent to quell the invasion but their technology was too advanced. Every tank and every plane was vaporized and their strength and combat skills were incomparable. The assault went on for longer than I can remember. They reached all over the world slowly severing ties between far away lands. Communication became next to impossible, thousands of people went missing and millions were slaughtered. They left one final message before they departed. They swore that they would be back to collect the resources they brought to this planet eons ago and that then they would decide what to do with the survivors, judgement day. When they left, they destroyed our satellites on their exit, severing much of our ability to communicate, putting us into a new dark age.”

Amerie’s dad puts his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I think that’s enough of a horror story for one night”, he says with a sheepish grin.

Amerie grasps the heart shaped locket dangling from her neck and stares down at the table in front of them. Suddenly, the floor shifts. Waves ripple in the small wooden bowl of water on the table. Her eyes stretch wide, still keeping her head down. Then, another shift in the floor. All look up at each other, then to grandpa. His jaw is clenched, neck stiff and arms bracing the table before him. It’s silent. Atmos braces his older sister and their dad mentions, “It’s just tremors. We’re fine”.

Crack! A noise in the distance rings out. The sound of grinding and crunching limbs and earth becomes syncs. The whirring grows louder and louder as they all turn to grandpa.

“Th-, th-, that noise”, he mutters.

Atmos peers past the makeshift window covering, watching the sky. He turns back, connecting eyes with his grandfather. Fear creeps into his body. They all tip-toe closer to Atmos. They stare through the window. The sky becomes dark red. As the family huddles closer together, Amerie clenches her brother with one hand and grasps the locket with the other.

“Dad!” their father calls out.

Grandpa turns to him, shaking and his voice trembling, “They’re back”.