The Time Stone (38 page)

“
What is going to happen
to the village? The people?” Asked Mercedes.

“
There will be lots of
strife, civil war, famine, drought, many conquests including the
reunification of two lands, but all in all it turns out as it does
in all history. Our purpose shouldn’t be to judge or impose our
ideals but to try to learn and simply exist with others in harmony.
Those are ideals the machination never cherishes.”

“
Yeah and Jenny?” Asked
Tina sadly.

“
I didn’t tell them about
Jenny. God rest her soul.”

“
Yeah too bad. Couldn’t we
reverse time to save her or something?” Asked Tina.

“
Time is tricky. We
couldn’t change what was meant to be and even if we could, the
chances of success are slim. We must move on for all our sakes.”
Drax spoke philosophically.

“
Indeed” said James
nodding thinking of the mushroom cloud in his vision.

“
We did make a profound
discovery. At least we know more about the creators of the Time
Stone. I wonder if there is more information on them somewhere. But
we should get back. Time is our oyster as long as we have this
relic but we belong where we belong.” Said Drax.

“
So …?” Asked
Mercedes.

“
So let’s go at it again.
I think we are ready to move on but this time let’s all think
positive thoughts about being thousands of years in the future.”
Drax nodded as did his cohorts.

“
Too bad we didn’t meet
Cleopatra” said Tina jokingly.

“
A few years too early for
that” said Drax.

James held up the Time Stone “to the
adventure” he yelled as he turned it and the portal opened up once
again. They all smiled and yelled simultaneously “to the adventure”
and figuratively saddled up for the ride to the next time period,
each dematerializing to an energy ball and being sucked in, ideally
on their way home.

CHAPTER 70

Time Period: 2092 A.D., Lightning Way
(Formerly Chronix Bay)

The dark skies over the fallen
landscapes and burned towers were a cross between blood red and
black sacloth. The roar of the temporal wormhole appeared and
disappeared just as quickly leaving the four travelers in the midst
of a doomed society where loud booms of thunder permeated the air
above smelling like smoke and brimstone further filling the air
below. A large looming tower complex stretches over the skyline in
the distance, damaged and decayed, the charred remains of a long
lost civilization of high tech marvels and stellar sky roadways. No
signs of foliage or wildlife exist, only sullen
darkness.

“
Something bad happened
here” said Mercedes.

“
I got a bad feeling over
all” said James, “where are we?”

“
Home. This is Chronix
Bay” said Drax holding his handheld scanner. “I tuned my scanner to
pick up tachyon emission frequencies. Sort of like a time travel
pocket guide now.”

“
This doesn’t look like
Chronix Bay” said Tina as she almost sighed that they were home but
they weren’t.

“
It is Chronix Bay, circa
2092 AD.” Drax said.

“
The future?” Asked
Mercedes.

“
The Time Stone stopped
glowing guys” said James holding it out and turning it but nothing
happened and the five orbs within it remained dull and turned
off.

“
Great Caesars Ghost!” The
four exclaimed virtually simultaneously alone in the vast ruins of
their very future.

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The immense desolation of this future
time period was measured in the small yet bustling community of
Kawanbi in Chronix Bay, The Broken Earth and Sky, as it reads on a
faded sign that occupied a large field outside of the small town,
the electric diodes that once illuminated the sign having long
since died out. The town is surrounded by an encampment of tents
and small shacks built as temporary shelter by the former
inhabitants of the town that rested in the center with charred
remains of homes and office buildings, structures damaged by
natural winds, water, and fires. The earth lay barren and fruitless
devoid of natural vegetation or plant life and black as pitch. A
small group gathers around one of the larger tents on the outskirts
of the shanty town and holds a small town hall meeting.

“
We need to enforce
stronger limits on our aqueduct use. The reserves of water and fuel
are running dangerously low. In a small while we will be completely
helpless.” Said a young man with rimmed glasses and curly hair, his
clothes loose and baggy, a tattered overcoat, and small red
bowtie.

“
Thank you, Mr. Daniels.”
Said a middle-aged woman holding a hammer and wearing a long gown
with her hair knotted up in a bun, she banged the hammer on a table
when others started to converse amongst themselves expressing their
respective agreeing and disagreeing opinions on the
matter.

“
Enough” she yelled. “This
meeting is adjourned for now. We will reconvene at the same time
tomorrow.” She said sternly at the behest of many who sucked their
teeth and muttered words like “favoritism” and “corrupt” under
their breaths. They began to scatter back to their respective tents
and shacks while some wandered off towards the outer areas with
desolate burned remains of old structures and buildings. No one
wandered off to an area marked off with tape, which resembled an
old growth forest yards away but with no leaves and the barks were
burnt and ashen. This area was carefully labeled forbidden
territory.

A few meters away, there was a loud
bustle in a small hut different from the others, made of straw and
clay, like a midlevel residence. A young lady with bright yellow
hair stood outside sweeping the floor, her eyes tired and defeated
were blue and melancholy hovering over black and blue bruises on
her face as they wandered back and forth across the long expanse of
dirt and mud before her, she was desperately trying to keep the
loathsome flowing mud waters from entering the house, her long gown
drenched from the bottom up after she had been at the task for
several moments.

“
Honey, come wandering in.
It’s after time zone and we better get ready for tomorrow’s
meetings.” Yelled a strong voice from within echoing with a rugged
masculinity and out came Daryl Wutherford Haverstraw, whose
physique embodied a strong upper body, cunning prowess in his sharp
eyes, jet black hair and beard like a woodsman and donning a large
heavy well-tailored overcoat with long tails and macramé buttons
adorned in gold lining. He stood with his fists at his side ready
to stand guard as master of the house. “What brings the late wind?”
He asks.

“
Trying to get stop our
home from being flooded but you wouldn’t care, always off on your
witch hunt excursions.” She replied trying to sweep away the
water.

“
Do not talk back to me
with that tone Vanessa as you may have forgotten who the master of
the house is.” He yelled. “Come inside now” he
commanded.

Vanessa sighed and dropped the
broomstick to the side as she wandered in followed by her husband.
As the door closed behind them, the mud waters started to slowly
seep in again.

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The next morning the sun veered over
the darkness of the shanty town as the skies were a mix of black
and blue, darker in some areas than others but brighter over most
areas above. The ground was barren and sullen without a single crop
and Mud Rivers flowed throughout the land and various homes. The
home of Mr. and Mrs. Haverstraw lay crumbled in ruins and the
couple barely escaping was seeking refuge in the larger central
encampment nearby with a red banner waiving overhead, the center of
the banner had an emblem of a dark apparently feathered face with
pale eyes. The bustle inside the encampment consisting of several
rooms and hallways under the large series of tents under a domed
greenhouse-like superstructure colored in crystalline splendor
shining down rays from the fading sunlight above them and
sprinkling it down in various directions lighting the entire
complex. As the movement of people dressed in rags and dirt-covered
gowns wandering about on dirt paths in the small inner city hauling
carts of bags with whatever food and water supplies were available.
There was a large square table resting in the distance towards the
back areas where there rested a map of the area and two people
stood in the midst of a detailed conversation. Sergeant General
Maxwell Sharpe, an elderly gentleman with pure white hair and a
stern grit hid by a curious smile that made him seem almost
childlike as he donned his highly decorated uniform from his time
with the old army and puffed his hand rolled cigar before Alana
Wilcox, a petite young woman in her mid-thirties with short
chestnut blonde hair and a tough grit, she donned her leather
jacket and flight pants with wings and the initials “AE” admiring
her hero Amelia Earhart, a famous female pilot from the
past.

“
You sure got some cojones
young lady. I don’t think we have the fight or the will for that
type of a maneuver” said the General.

“
But it is our only way
after all and we can do it if we ration our men and firepower. We
can’t live like this, like slaves and peasants in a forgotten world
forever. Look at the stats,” she pointed to a stack of loose papers
printouts on the table and the map underneath it. “There are U.R.O
forces all over the western perimeter and near the dry rivers all
the way down to the dark forests. If we don’t take action soon
we’re dead. We lost eleven more battalions this week. We are being
slaughtered, no exterminated, because were different. We don’t
believe what they do. We need to start taking control of our own
destinies and fighting for what we are entitled to otherwise what’s
the point? We might as well lie down and dig our own plots. I
refuse to give up not while I still have breath in my
body.”

“
Well” said the General in
his deep southern accent with a heavy sigh after puffing his cigar
“I can’t believe this is even got a snowball’s chance in hell,
kiddo… We can’t Union troops to this cause if there is no chance of
winning.”

“
Even if the Union could
be next? Our little rebellion may not be much to you but it is a
lot to us. We always were at odds politically, General but we need
your help or we’re goners.” He looked into her somber eyes with a
heavy lament.

“
I think you kids got
gumption and I still think it’s too much to convince my superiors
completely to invest but if you put your heart and faith into it
then I can too.”

“
Thanks” she smiled in
return to his warming grin.

“
I was just telling Marsha
the other day how much of a beautiful, courageous, daring, and
independent young woman you turned out to be.”

“
Aw you’re making me
blush. You always were like an uncle to me when I was coming
up.”

“
Only reason was because
of your dad, I miss him sometimes, he saved my life in the great
conflict and he was a great friend and great person.”

“
I know” she
smirked.

“
He would have been proud
of you just as I am.” They embraced briefly. “Ready the men” he
smirked “I will let my superiors at Union HQ know we got a
rebellion to reconsider.”

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Meanwhile, far above their
small shanty town, in the high peaks of the city center where the
old Chronix Bay once stood, the tall ominous citadel historically
occupied by dark forces now is occupied by even darker and more
sinister beings whom dwell within it. The towers are purely dark,
unlit, with faded greenery and moss having once grown on it but
decayed to a black texture permanently caked onto the decaying
stonework. The entire structure remained looming and overshadowing
the miles of vacant wetland desert below. Within the central
citadel, the red room that was once lit up with swirling rainbow
lights was now a hollow shell of darkness and embodied the epitome
of corruption and evil. A teenage boy sits on the steps leading up
to an empty platform level with the charred remains of a single
chair, his hands cupping his face in sorrow. He brushes his fair
hair to the side and looks over at the window ledges and the
darkness where it was dark outside even in the middle of the day,
black and blue colors battling in the atmosphere under the piercing
light energy of the sun. “
How did it get
so bad?
” He wondered as he often loved
reading history and thinking about things and the way that they
might have been before the great conflict but there is little that
remains discussing about those days.

“
Reginald”, yelled an
elderly man’s voice in the distance approaching the young man. The
voice repeated the name over and over again as it became louder and
louder. The young man ignored it and kept looking outside of the
window daydreaming of better worlds. He envisioned a perfect
paradise, a utopian city with glistening towers and skyways that
reached into the far reaches of the universe and back again where
peace, love, hope, tolerance, equality, and brotherhood dominated
over everything. He sat fixated on that moment when he was
interrupted and quickly opened his eyes to the stern look of his
great uncle and teacher Dr. Walliford Ordox, whose wrinkled face
and long white hair along with his strong demeanor showed that he
was serious and angry. He grunted as he crossed his arms that were
hidden by his long sleeves of his long gown flowing down to the
ground making him appear royal. Reginald gulped in fear as his
visions of utopian cities quickly faded and the routine grueling
existence of his daily studies and chores was back on the forefront
of his mind.