Scorpion String | Chapter 3

Serial Fiction | Novel Draft

—Matthew—

I stand atop an unstable plateau formed by meteor blasts a few years ago. It’s not very large, roughly the size of a modest living room. My vantage point is higher than any tree, though there aren’t many trees nearby. I climbed up here to scan the landscape for any potential signs of food. Hunger is our never-ending driving force.

No signs of anything edible are in sight, but what catches my attention are the small canyon scars carved into the landscape. Once dormant, they now seem to have come to life. I’m unsure what to make of it.

Through all these years, Jack has remained my steadfast friend, a constant companion in the nightmare the world has thrust upon us. With my growing concern about the activity within these scarred canyons, I called Jack and his girlfriend, Diane, to join me.

As they start their ascent, I keep my gaze fixed on the horizon, finding myself momentarily caught in a sense of awe. A wave of sadness washes over me as I recognize there is beauty amidst the chaos, a poignant elegance in the scenic view that unfolds before me.

Then, the earth trembles beneath my feet, a sinister prelude to the unknown.

Glancing down the steep, dark slope reminiscent of graveled coal, I check on Jack and Diane. I remember my dad used to play this old song called “Jack and Diane,” telling me stories from his youth. Back then, I brushed it off as just another sign of his age, a decision I regret now.

“Are you guys okay?” I shout down to them.

Jack responds with a wave, his appearance a testament to our brutal journey.

Diane, who once seemed untouched by our reality, now bears the indelible marks of survival, like a miner etched with the earth’s scars.

The atmosphere vibrates as if filled with the hum of countless insects. I jolt my head up, squinting my eyes trying to identify the source of the lurking madness. My eyes are drawn to the damaged landscape, where an ominous plum of smoke highlights the transformation of Rudee Inlet from a once robust tourist location to a victim of the apocalypse.

Diane’s voice pierces the uneasy quiet, laden with dread.“What’s happening?”

I try to mask my concern.

Jack reaches the top, his eyes fixed on the thickening plums of smoke rising from the Earth’s cracked depths, sensing the turmoil that awaits.

A fleeting smile crosses my face in an attempt to reassure Diane. “You okay?” I ask, my voice laced with worry.

“I’m good,” she responds, but her voice betrays her anxiety.

Then comes the sound of an approaching swarm. I reach a hand out for Diane to bring her atop as the sound intensifies, a prelude to chaos.

I desperately look for cover, but it’s futile.

Then we see it. It appears as a swarm of locust emerging from the billowing smoke, sending a jolt of fear through me.

“Locusts,” I murmur under my breath.

Diane, alarmed, asks, “What?”

The tattoos on Jack’s wrists come to mind, a grim reminder of the tale my dad had shared with me several times. My voice broken with desperation as I ask, “Did you consider the story I shared with you last week?”

Diane shakes her head, confusion and fear mingling. “Why?” she whispers.

I glance at Jack, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Jack,” I say, the weight of our predicament heavy in my voice.

He looks back, fear evident in his eyes.

As my gaze returns to the cloud of locusts, the reality of our situation becomes painfully clear, and the implications are horrifying.

In a moment of tension, Diane instinctively moves closer to Jack, seeking solace. Driven by a protective urge, Jack wraps an arm around her, forming a fragile barrier against the looming darkness.

“Diane,” I start, my voice heavy dreading what’s to come. The fear isn’t about the locusts swarming towards us but about our chances against this plague. I know Jack is marked, but the fate of Diane and me remains uncertain.

“What is it?” Diane’s anxious voice cuts through my thoughts.

My heart pounds as the locust swarm nears, and I debate the value of voicing my fears.

“We need to get out of here,” Jack says, his voice urgent but unaware of our genuine peril.

I’m painfully aware our efforts to flee are futile, but I still couldn’t agree more. “Let’s go,” I urge, leading the way down the perilous slope with careful yet rapid sliding steps, a bid for survival as I navigate the descent.

Descending, a whirlwind of emotions engulfs me—fear, determination, and a sliver of hope that perhaps we can outrun what’s destined for us.

Reaching the bottom, the apocalyptic landscape hits me fully. Memories of my father, Michael, and his explanations of the Book of Revelation flood back. “The seven letters to the seven Churches represent different eras… They mark our place in the apocalyptic timeline of humanity. Do you understand?” he had said gravely. I had responded, not fully understanding the weight of his words at the time.

Diane’s scream pulls me back to the present as she slides down, her side badly scraped by the rugged rocky terrain.

“Ouch. Are you okay?” I ask—knowing perfectly well that was painful. I help her up.

“I’m fine,” she insists, her resilience outshining the pain.

Jack rushes over and checks her for further injuries. “You okay?” he mirrors my concern.

“I’m good,” Diane manages, brushing off pebbles and dirt from her clothing despite the pain. She’s definitely become one tough girl. A far distance from the somewhat shy and easily intimidated girl she was in high school. Hard to believe because she was always so bold on her social media.

As I scan our desolate surroundings, the locusts’ roar intensifies, signaling an imminent arrival.

Escape is no longer an option; we’re trapped.

There is no where to run in this apocalyptic landscape.

The locusts, precise and relentless, seem to know exactly where to find us.

Another conversation with my father vividly returns to me. “The locusts are demonic, emerging from the abyss in smoke clouds… They’re meant to torment humans for five months, sparing only those with the seal of God on their foreheads.”

Fear overtakes me as I realize my misunderstanding.

Only those marked with God’s seal would be exempt from this torment. My heart races with the realization. I wasn’t deemed worthy of the divine escape nearly three years ago, the great purge. And now, facing this dreadful attack, I’m consumed by doubt over my own eligibility for mercy.

Against the backdrop of the approaching threat, this recollection amplifies my dread and helplessness, facing what seems like an unbearable destiny.

My eyes meet Jack and Diane’s, their terror mirrored in their faces as the dark swarm closes in. Diane and I share a look of mutual fear before the locust onslaught engulfs us.

Panic and awe are overwhelm as the swarm descends swiftly over the towering meteor hills. Our world turning into a nightmarish blur of darkness and the overpowering sound of wings. The air was thick with the smell of sulfur.

In panic, Jack pushes Diane from his embrace and grabs her arm. They start running, trying desperately to escape the impending doom.

I stand frozen, watching Jack and Diane flee from a fate designed for the unsealed. A divine judgment that we cannot escape.

There’s nowhere to run.

And there is no hiding from this.