Beacon Of Light: Episode one (The ultimate post apocalyptic sci-fi thriller serial) (2 page)

‘Miss Harriet, I do suggest you pay attention. After all I could magic up a glitch of my own making,’ Mr Conway says coldly as he looks the woman up and down.

She complies and looks her boss in the eye. He smiles and gets up from his chair. He walks over to her slowly, making his way around the desk. The big army type man’s bulk makes his strides uneven but not so much that anyone would notice, just the more observant people. She notices and every step he takes is another reminder of the power this man holds in his own weight. His sheer mass is enough to intimidate anyone, even Miss Harriet. He reaches for her and puts a stiff, yet gentle hand on her shoulder. It’s much out of context considering the size of his hands. She finds herself wondering why he is being so gentle. Usually he’s much tougher. Usually he’s much rougher.

‘I admit that even I make mistakes Miss Harriet. Even I slip up from time to time. But this isn’t just some mistake. This is truly a monumental fuck up!’ he says gently as he caresses her cheek. She tries not to flinch.

‘Look sir, I understand the ramifications of my actions but surly we can put this behind us?’ She pleads.

She’s not used to pleading for anything. Miss Harriet has gotten to where she is today because of fortitude, not favours or pleas for promotion. She works hard and accepts full responsibility for anything she does. She’s a true soldier at heart.

‘You killed our top computer guy, and then you had him dumped on the front yard of his grieving wife that for the past ten years thought he was dead. Surely this is more than a fuck up. This is beyond a rookie mistake. We can’t afford to be linked to any of this. I do hope you realise my position,’ the man says as he continues to stroke her face.

‘I do Sir but…’

He stops stroking her cheek and steps back a few steps.

‘Disciplinary action will be taken Miss Harriet. But at this moment in time we need you, so I’m going to let you off for the meantime. I need you to clear up this mess. Leave no traces of any of this. Do what you need to do to make this go away,’ Mr Conway says.

‘I will,’ says Miss Harriet

Mr Conway steps back behind his desk and sits back down.  Miss Harriet turns around and makes her way to the door.

‘One more thing Miss Harriet. Don’t fuck this up now, or disciplinary action will be the least of your worries’

Five

Donner Hayes is busy at work. She’s an intern at the local ER, and today seems to be a day that has her rushed off her feet, more so than usual anyway.  All sorts of people have made their way to the ER today, people suffering from aches and pains, people suffering from loss of vision, all sorts of the people. The ER on Second Street in understaffed, and the staff are underpaid. Donner herself works there for more than money itself. Long hours and the pressures of the job do not equate to nine dollars fifty an hour. For her it’s more than enough, but for most people, barely scraping minimum wage wasn’t their idea of the medical industry or a long career as a health practitioner.

She hears the grumbles of the staff on a daily basis, but she doesn’t care. She knows they may moan, but once a life threatening situation arises in the hospital, its business as usual.
Nine dollars fifty or not. 

Today was no exception. The staff including
herself were rushed off their feet trying to figure out what’s causing the mass of patients at their usually steady ER department. Donner doesn’t busy herself with those kinds of thoughts, she too interested in caring for her patients. She finds herself examining a man who has the same complaint as everyone else in the Hospital.

‘I’m only twenty five years old and I feel as if I’m ninety. Come on doc, you need to hear me out. Surely you can understand. You don’t look much older than me,’ the charming man says as Donner blushes.

‘I’m sorry Mr Adams, but I’m not a doctor, I’m just an intern. My job is to help diagnose you,’ she calmly says as she steadies her eyes on her clipboard.

‘So you’re a doctor in training?’ The man asks as he starts to grow inpatient. ‘Because I’m going to need a REAL doctor, ya’ know, someone who knows what the fuck they are doing’

Donner’s eyes roll into the back of her head. She’s heard this song and dance before. Working at an inner city hospital with patients who can hardly afford their insurance let alone good manners is standard procedure in her life.

‘I’m going to have to ask you to calm down sir, and mind your tone when talking to me. I’m here to help you, not annoy you’

The man’s eyes shift to the floor as a wash of regret and embarrassment creeps over his face.

‘I’m so sorry, it’s this….damn place, it gives me the creeps, plus this stupid illness has made me into a grumpy old fart. So not only do I feel like an old man, I’m losing my mind like one too!’ The man says.

Donner sympathises with the man but cannot show much compassion just in case the guy is just an addict looking for some prescription drugs. That too is a standard procedure in her life, dealing with addicts that is.

‘What do you mean losing your mind like an old man?’

The man looks up to the ceiling fan as if he was looking for answers in its ever spinning movement.

‘I don’t know, it’s like…well I can’t really explain it. Sometimes I see this blinking red light in my left wrist, like an LED light or something. I mean, I smoke weed and that, but I’ve never seen it before. But the light is getting brighter. The first time I spotted it was six weeks ago, it was faint and irregular, now it seems as if its contributing to a disco setup or something. Like there is a rave going on in my arm, and every single waking second, the flashing gets worse, until recently, I started noticing it was creeping into my vision, so not only am I seeing it in my arm, I’m also seeing it in my eye’

Understandably, Donner is sceptical of most people’s self-diagnosed symptoms. It comes with the job, and every medial person knows to listen to what the patient is saying and then fill in the blanks. The thing with people is that they attach a certain personality to their illness and often describe it in a negative light. Now that is obviously normal, seeing most people would describe something that has been nagging at them and causing them pain as a negative thing. But most people don’t actually know what’s wrong with them. They get their selves worked up by telling other people what’s wrong and then those unqualified people tell them their penis is going to fall off for a laugh. Donner sometimes wants to be that person. The person who tells a twenty five year old man that his penis is going to fall off. Not because she wants his penis to fall off, but because she’s fed up of listening to tweekers and alcoholics complain about their self-concocted hallucinations.

‘Sounds like a case of THC overdose. Layoff the cannabis Mr Adam’s and you should be okay,’ she says with a smile on her face

The man doesn’t seem to think the situation is funny.

‘I’m serious man, you need to help me. I think this could be bad. Fucking beacons man, they know everything about us, and they are watching us!’

Donner smiles again as she leaves the room while the paranoid man continues to shout off his conspiracies. Turns out she was right; the guy must be a paranoid drug user.

Six

The man in the sewer is reeling for air. It feels as if he can’t breathe in such a confined space. The putrid smell of faecal matter is making his head hurt. He’s trying to keep on moving but something keeps distracting him. The flashing beacon of light in his arm has ceased blinking. Could it be that he has gone far enough?  He surveys the area he’s standing in. In front of him lies a vast pool of sewage that seems to escape into every direction. On the walls are grates and bars, each one of them oozing with dirty water. The dripping of the water around him echoes off the walls as he slowly shuffles forward. He notices a small light ahead. An oil drum is alit and a few shadows huddle around it. He’s not sure whether they are friendly or not, but considering the state he is in; he decides to move towards them.  He immediately notices the peculiar site of a business man covered in mud and two little girls surrounding the blazed oil drum. He immediately feels better. He’s not the only one who decided to go underground. He’s not alone in the sewers. The business man spots the doddering lawyer and waves him forward. Both lock eyes as if they never expected to see another living soul again. The man smiles and so do the two little girls who look about eight and nine apiece. The lawyer reaches them and is met with a firm handshake from the man and a candid hello from the little girls. The immediate warmth of the fire from the oil drum is a pleasing sensation considering the damp and cold of the walk through the sewer earlier on.

‘I’m Mitch, and these two are Abigail and Tristan. I’m glad we are not the only people down here,’ he says as he continues to shake the lawyer’s hand.

‘My names David, David Seal,’ the lawyer says as he basks in the warm light of the oil drum

Mitch’s eyes widen at the sound of the lawyers name. It’s a name that even in these tragic and ill-fated times, still brings weight and wonder.

‘David Seal? Wow, it really is you,’ the friendly man named Mitch says as he looks at his daughter in glee.

David doesn’t feel the man’s joyfulness. Sure, before he was a big shot lawyer with a big shot firm that had a big shot TV AD with his big shot
self starring in it. Now he’s just like everyone else.
A doomed existence,
he thinks to himself.

‘Yeah, David Seal, that’s me.’ he says without an ounce of happiness present in his voice.

‘It’s a real pleasure to meet someone of your stature Mr Seal. I’m a lawyer too. Not a big time one. I haven’t had any NFL clients like yourself, but I do get by, well used to get by that is,’ Mitch says as he gently pats the little girl on his left, trying to reassure her. They both seem uneasy but the girl on the left seems especially uneasy. David doesn’t really care for kids. That much hasn’t changed.

‘You used to be a lawyer…,’ David says firmly as he looks the man in his eyes.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t quite get you Mr Seal,’ says Mitch in confusion.

‘I’m saying that you USED to be a lawyer, like I used to be one too. Now we are nothing but rats in a sewer escaping whatever man made extinction event that is reeking death above ground. What we used to be doesn’t matter now. It’s what we do to make things better that counts for something. I’m not saying things are going to get better, but I’ll be dammed if I don’t at least entertain the idea of a
normal life after this shitstorm,’ says David as he gently rubs his hands together, trying to welcome the warmth into his palms.

Mitch doesn’t seem highly impressed with David’s words. He steps forward a few steps and leans into David over the blazing oil drum.

‘I would appreciate it if you don’t swear in front of the little ones. I don’t want them to grow up cursing and being unfriendly,’ Mitch says as he gives David a reassuring smile to go along with his request.

David smiles back

‘I’ll do my best, but if the lights start blinking away again, I’m not going to be thinking about being courteous, I’ll drop an f bomb or two, especially if you or your little girl’s get evaporated much like my best friend did not more than two hours ago,’ David says as he also reassures Mitch with a fake smile.

Seven

Ray has been working on his new program for the website now for a few hours. He’s been in his work zone, not looking at any distractions, just writing code for the entirety of those two hours. It is rare to find him working so hard and not trawling the internet for conspiracy news and whatever other crazy stuff that occupies his mind on a daily basis. He’s on his thousandth line of c# when his computer screen starts flickering violently. New York is known for its power outages. The city is historically plagued by such things. The weather coming from the north can interfere with the islands power regularly. It’s not something that strikes Ray as odd when it occurs.

Today was an entirely deferent situation. The power wasn’t cutting to his monitor. There was something interfering with it. He looks around the room and see’s if there is anything electrical that could be interfering with his work. He doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary from his seat, so he continues to type away, hoping the interference will disappear.

A few minutes go by and the interference stops. He sighs and continues his work. He doesn’t exactly like coding but it has to be done. The new programme he’s working on is an addition to his mobile phone version of the website. He is trying to roll out the website in a compact app that he can put on app stores around the web. He knows that if he can succeed in that, then maybe he can make more income from his mobile phone customers, with integrated text messaging and video messaging at a premium of course. He continues to layout some code when the interference starts up once again. This time it is accompanied by a loud ringing in Ray’s ear, like a microphone distorting at a gig. He clambers at his head and winces in pain as he gets up from his seat and backs away from the computer thinking that maybe the distorting sound will cease. It does and he breaths in gently, trying to catch his breath.

He looks around the room and struggles to stay still as he sways from side to side as if he is drunk. He starts to panic a little at the thought of him dying. He knows he isn’t feeling well at that moment in time and he needs to get to a hospital, but before he can scramble for his phone and dial 911, he collapses onto his front and lands hard on the floor. He is still conscious and can hear his breathing slow down as his eyes close and darkness engulfs him.