Eudaimonia

AN – For those of you who read the two chapters that were posted of the previous story under the same name: that edition is now officially dead. I was having great trouble writing a third chapter, and so I revised my chapter plan and I now have everything in order and waiting to be typed up. What was chapter one is now this, the prologue. What was chapter two is now chapter one – it remains the same, but there is additional details and another part added to the end. If you’re a new reader, please read the story from the beginning. If not, then skip to chapter two for the new action. Thanks, and many apologies! Chapter Edited: 27th February 2005.

Prologue

The explosion ripped through the building – shards of glass flew across the room, tearing holes in the velvet drapes that hung from the bed posts and scratching the fine marble walls. Flames in brilliant shades of orange and red scorched the stone floor, the heat cracking the ceiling and reducing the fine tapestries to ashes. The growl of the machine guns as they fired their bullets around the room was nothing short of terrifying, and for the creatures crouched in the alcove behind the grand bookcase, the growl sounded eerily like a death knell.

“Mamma, are we to die in here?” Whispered the youngest of four boys; his sparkling emerald eyes glazed with tears that threatened to fall.

“Shush, Niko, they’ll hear us.” A female voice replied. The boys’ mother, her body positioned defensively in front of her young, shook with fear. She closed her eyes, the spray of the machine guns’ bullets bearing ever closer to where her family crouched. She did not know where her husband, the King, had gone. He had been gone all night, with the eldest of their five children, battling against the invasion. Nobody had heard from them since – the last Queen Eleda had heard from him was his quietened pleas as he forced his family behind the bookcase, ordering them to stay put and to not make a sound. Several torturous hours had passed since then, and still nothing from her husband. She drew in a deep breath and pushed back against her children, feeling their hearts thundering in their chests against her back. There were footsteps approaching the bookcase.

“Hey, sir, the freaks can read!”

“Ha, read what exactly, ‘the art of a nuclear apocalypse’?”

Cruel laughter could be heard around the room, the hollow sound bouncing off the marble walls. Books were pulled from the case and dropped to the floor, the heavy tomes thudding lifelessly as they hit the cold slabs.

“Hey, sir, I think there’s something behind here!”

Queen Eleda inhaled sharply, her heart seemingly having leapt into her throat. She braced herself, incisors ready, willing to fight to the death to save her children. She saw one dark, dirty hand edge its way around the bookcase, the fingers feeling round the edge of the alcove – “Sir! I think it’s a door!” – groping the air in front of the female’s face. She saw her chance; and she took it. In a split second she had dug her teeth into the hand, drawing blood that tasted oh-so-good in her parched mouth. She bit harder, the man’s screams becoming more urgent. Footsteps were heard, approaching the bookcase. Other men were trying to pull back their friend, but Queen Eleda’s grip on his flesh was too strong. He was going to have his hand bitten off, whether or not they tried to pull him away.

“Get it off me, get it off!”

“No!” another voice called, “Grab it, get behind there and seize it, it must be another Euden!”

There was hesitation, before several of the men’s hands joined their comrades, squeezing through the gap behind the bookcase, desperately trying to grab the creature they presumed was hidden there.

The female lunged at them, her razor sharp fingernails slicing through flesh, droplets of blood flying in all directions – she released the man’s hand from her mouth, her teeth aching, her body tired. The men who owned the groping hands screamed, but were ordered to continue their sightless search. The bookcase was being dragged back by other men, making the gap behind it bigger, and making Queen Eleda’s battle more difficult. She breathed heavily, pushing back against her children, praying they wouldn’t scream. Daylight spilled through the gap, shedding light on the family, bringing forth gasps from the gathered humans.

“Sir, there’s an entire family of them!”

“Get them! Get one of them!”

The humans pulled out their guns, triggers were tensed, and for a moment, all was silent in the room. The men edged slowly forwards, careful to keep their hands out of harms way. They looked at the creatures – one female, four male – cramped into the tiny alcove, barely daring to breath. Their hands had shot to their faces, and they whimpered as they struggled to cover their eyes from the harsh lights emitting from the soldiers’ torches. One of the men glanced down, and his eyes met with those of the youngest male. Tears raced down his pale cheeks, he face screwed into a mask of confusion and fear. The man paused.

“…Sir…these are just kids.”

“THAT ONE’S NOT!” Screamed the man with the newly-mangled hand. “THAT BITCH BIT ME, GET HER, SHOOT HER IN THE HEAD!” He pulled out a pistol, and pulled the trigger without caring to aim.

The bullet ripped through the female’s stomach, sending her crashing to her knees, an unbearably high-pitched scream emitting from her mouth. The humans dropped their guns and pushed their hands to their ears. They ran from the room, their ears bleeding, in silent agony as they clambered through the door to be away from the woman and her banshee wail.

The man holding the gun approached, face twisted in menace, the scream seemingly un-affecting him (although red gushed from both his lobes). He lunged forward, his bloodied remains of a hand fastening around the ankle of the youngest child. He dragged him from his hiding place, pushing the gun against his temple. Time seemed to freeze, and nobody moved but the man. He backed away slowly, in agony, as the female’s scream finally stopped and turned to anguished sobs. The three children that remained in the alcove did not move, their eyes yearned to rescue their brother, but they did not want to see him killed, and they dared not leave their mother to bleed to death.

The human reached the door frame, his trembling finger still pressed firmly against the trigger. He looked at the family as they remained in the alcove, and with a wink, he vanished. The grand bedroom once again swam with the neutral darkness that the alien inhabitants would, at any other time, be grateful to receive – now though, they knew, was not the time to be feel relieved.

The sons remained, for a moment, completely still. They breathed quietly, unbelieving, as their mother lay motionless on the ground. They listened, and they heard the gunshots, they heard the explosions and they heard the frenzied cries of victory that wrung out from miles around.

The eldest boy, not yet out of his teens, sunk to his knees. He pushed his hands against his face and he let out an agonised, tortured scream of self-pity. His brothers surrounded him, comforting, assuring him that somehow they’d see their brother again, that everything would be alright. They barely registered their father, bleeding and bruised, struggling through the doorway – one arm round a young man who carried the head of a human. They didn’t care to notice their father collapse, hiding his face from the sight of his wife lying in a pool of her own blood. They didn’t blink as the young man joined their brotherly vigil, his strong arms pulling them closer together, his weary head resting on their shoulders. Nobody spoke for exactly an hour, and after that hour, the first word that was uttered was a tiny, almost inaudible, ‘why?’

That night in Eudaemonia, no one dared to put out the light.