After Star Fall

Twin Stars Institute, founded c. 1919: the old plaque, encased in carbon shielding in the boulder that marks the edge of Sarah’s grandfather’s forty acre property, and her ancestral home. It’s been five years since she abandoned the family business, and ran off to live a life free of the shackles of an assigned life. It had been three years since Star Fall obliterated earth, reducing the world to ash, and killing her twin sister, the only family member she had ever cared for.

The old gravel road, pock marked from years of erosion and foot traffic, leading to the family homestead looks almost exactly as it did when she left. The gnarled white oaks, curve and hang like thousands of wiry arms protecting the family legacy from the outside world. The decrepit branches create a welcome reprieve from the sandy winds, and hold a foreboding omen of what was left behind. Sarah loosens the cloth wrappings around her head, letting her hair flow around her shoulders. She runs her hand through shaking free dust, dirt and whatever small little creature had climbed in creating its own hovel from the harsh conditions of the barren wastelands that have become the norm. The wrapping she methodically folds and places in her right breast pocket.

The smell of sage and creosote permeate the air. Sarah examines what is left of the old iron gate. It’s one remaining door, twisted and melted, hangs so low it would take at least two people to pry it from the ground. The twin shooting stars that used to adorn the top, stuck in the ground, their tails lost to time. Sarah smirks remembering the people who would stand in line for hours, hoping and praying, to be let in and have their proposals heard. Her father turning all but the brightest away. She could still hear his booming voice reprimanding the most foolish for wasting his time with ill conceived and crudely presented ideas.

As she passes the door, the bushes near the gate rustle, grass separates, and a defense gun half raises from the ground, causing Sarah to jump back cursing. A broken automated alarm system, begins to wail, causing creatures to flee from the wooded cover. The gun jerks side to side, trying to fix on the spot Sarah had crossed the gate, unable to as its mechanisms seem to have rusted no longer allowing the weapon to fully raise from its ancient home. She draws a wrench and a small pistol from her belt, while quietly berating herself for not checking to make sure the security system had been fully deactivated.

A fragmented robotic voice sputters from melted speakers.

“Halt Intruder not….olerated halt…ruder….tolerated…identify…self”

Sarah walks to ward the machine while reciting her name like an incantation, “Sarah Bader Jean Wales second grand daughter of Baron Joseph Raymond James Wales, Lord of Brighton and Chief Executive Officer of the Twin Stars Institute of Interstellar Advancement.”

"Identit…not…gonized…return...or be…shot”

Bullets pepper the machine as Sarah empties her clip. She rolls to the left as the gun erupts towards where she just stood. The trunk of an Oak older than Sarah can remember explodes and crashes to the ground inches behind her as she slithers next to the machine, and begins to tear out its inner mechanisms. Bullets fly through the air, as Sarah ducks under the long barrel of the machine. The oversized weapon jerks violently trying to kill its target in any way that It can. Sarah wedges her wrench deep into the gyrating mechanisms at the machines base, rendering it unable to move, blasting bullets into the air.

"Intruders…tolerated…intrude…"

Sparks fly as the machine takes its final breath and slumps back into the earth. Sarah falls to the ground, breathing heavily, staring at the scorched sky. The black and gray clouds, lined in auburn, green lighting crackling through clouds: dragons and gods fighting for supremacy over an empty kingdom. If the machines were on the fritz, it could only mean the central processing unit must have been obliterated, or, more likely, that her name and clearance had been deleted from the mainframe. More likely the old bastard removed every mention of me, Sarah thought as she heaves herself off the dusty ground, wiping what she can from her clothing, the oil smearing and melding with the dust of the earth and her own sweat. The realization of what returning may cost begins to set in.

She turns her attention back to the weapon and salvages what she can. Most of the bullets she will keep for herself, knowing she will need them for the journey to come, but the hard drive and other mechanical parts of the machine she will be able to barter for several good nights rest at an inn, and possibly be enough for a warm bath or two. Sarah meticulously separates the items that she can take with her now putting them in her bag, dumping the unusable material back into the hole from which they came, and hid those larger items that she would need to bring back her sled to carry.

Sarah satisfied with her work scans the sky trying to determine the time of day. The clouds make it difficult to tell where the sun is sitting, but the dimming light means that the sun was well past peak. The estate is three more miles from the gate, and then there is the extensive search through what is left of the mansion, and Sarah begins to question whether to go on and risk possibly miss finding the secrets she has long waited because of lack of light, or if she should turn back and start again in the morning. Sarah knows the worst dangers, man and beast a like, hunt when the moon rises, and its brightness can’t breach the cloud cover. Stopping now would be an insult to Maura. Death is acceptable. Sarah slings her bag over her shoulder and begins down the road.

With cautious trepidation Sarah begins down the road, eyes scanning the curb and shrubbery for any other defense systems. The only sounds she can hear are the silent whispers of the wind arguing with the booming responses of thunder over the secrets of the universe. The road which at first felt familiar, begins to feel like a graveyard. The bones of human and animal alike litter the ditches around the road. The skulls picked clean, mossed over, and weathered through years of neglect and decomposition. As the road narrows, the trees thin leading to a courtyard and the husk of a massive building.

The crumbling crenelated walls that remain still domineer over those who would attempt to enter through the mansions main doors. The two metallic sentries remain closed, as if warning Sarah that she was not welcome here. Without hesitation she walks up to the door and places her hand on the upper right indentation. A dim flickering light scans her hand. A click is heard followed by a gentle and kindly voice of an elderly man.

“Welcome Maura, your journey to Eden has finally brought you home. Star Fall is a success, your heart will guide you.”

Sarah scowls at her grandfathers voice. The door opens inward, slamming into rubble inside. Sarah manages to slip through the opening without having to take her bag off. The doors are for meant to survive anything...except a few rocks that get in the way. Overcompensating and failing again. Sarah laughs at her silent slight and moves through the massive foyer.

Expensive statues of family members lay destroyed on the ground, paintings reduced to ash still sit behind broken glass, some objects look as if they haven’t been disturbed at all. It is amazing how devastation leaves certain items untouched, and others it wipes from the earth. As this though races through her head Sarah passes a broken mirror, and for the first time in years, she sees herself.

The white burn marks reach across her chest, up her neck and across her left ear. The milky white of her left eye stares blankly back at her, the world gone forever. And sometimes it does both. Sarah runs her hand across the edge of the scar on her face, the physical pain no longer remains, but the psychological pain floods back. The bright flash, a burning heat, and her sister, a reflection in the mirror, disappears. Sarah grasps her chest, feeling to make sure she still has it, the last reminder, the only reminder, of Maura.

She leaves her pain and sadness with the mirror, and begins to climb the broken stairs, making sure to check for false support or collapsing boards. The stillness of the second floor, the broken walls, the empty rooms, the lack of life within the building causes Sarah shudder, her anxiety creeping up her spine, spreading through her body as she gets closer to her to the end of the hall and her grandfathers study. The study’s single oak door stands as a testament to her Grandfather, too stubborn to be torn down by the events the decimated the rest of the world. In fact, the room seems to be uninjured, there isn’t a hint of destruction anywhere. The handle turns easily and the door glides open revealing a barren room with a large desk and chair sitting perfectly in the center. As Sarah approaches the desk, lights illuminate the room, and a piece of paper flitters from the wind in the hall. The paper calls to Sarah, and she can see her grandfathers hand before she picks it up.

To my beautiful Maura,

I hope that this letter finds you well and that you have taken care of the black mark of our family, the blood and face that you share that brings disgrace to our name, and keeps you from Eden. Her life is your salvation. When you have lifted our shame know that Eden lies with our family, your heart opens her gates. If you succeed I cannot wait to to hold you in my arms, and welcome you to paradise. If you fail, may God and the stars wipe you from the earth.

Love

Papa Joe

Her grandfathers words slap Sarah across the face. He sent is only remaining grandchild to kill her sister, rather than protect her. Sent her to kill her sister, just to prove she was worthy of being saved.

Sarah reaches into her coat, into the interior breast pocket and touchers her sisters locket: a golden heart, fused and sealed forever from the heat of the flame. Eden lies with our family? Sarah tries to determine where that could be: the family cemetery, the family crypt, the catacombs, a bedroom, it could be any number of places.

Suddenly, Sarah begins to laugh to herself. Bastard. She throws the locket around her neck and heads for the door. Sarah pulls her gun from its holster, makes her way back down the stairs, and out the front door. She takes a sharp left around the decrepit building, past the well and destroyed servants huts. She passes the bones of adult and children alike, those who never knew what was coming. She crosses her families burial ground, to a large tomb. An angel, whose wings and been torn off by the blast, smiles at her.

“Hi mom.”

Her mother’s likeness holds a small golden handle, with a heart shaped indentation in its center. Sarah removes the locket form around her neck and places the heart inside. The sound of stone and machine moving in unison fill the cemetery as the angel sweeps open revealing a large staircase. Her grandfathers voice once more fills the air.

"Welcome Maura, to paradise. Welcome to Eden."

Sarah walks inside as her mother returns to her duty as sentinel once more. She takes a deep breath, pistol raised, and walks down the stairs.