Ragnarok

Once upon a time, a young boy was told a story by his grandfather. His grandfather told him that one day, the Aesir would do battle upon the fields of Ragnarok, against the trickster Loki and the Jotun. When the battle was done, the all the worlds would be ruined; God and Giant alike would be slain. But two humans will survive, Lif and Lifthraiser. Those two would hide in the leaves of the great Yggdrasil, the only thing undamaged by the fires of Ragnarok. And when the battle was over, Lif and Lifthraiser would emerge from the great tree, and their progeny would rule the earth.

This is Ragnarok.

-

“A state of emergency has proclaimed in the-” An explosion ripped through the city, silencing the loudspeaker. A boy sprinted through the rubble, blood hammering in his ears. He was out of breath, his muscles demanded he stop, but he was carried forward on wings of fear. The night was a terrible one, illuminated only by a flaming city; a single vast torch. Burnt-out husks of cars were strewn about; buildings were reduced to skeletons of steel and stone. The boy ran on, fleeing some unseen monster.

Another comet split the night. There was roar; a building erupted into flames before him. The shock sent him flying; his head collided with a brick. Blood ran down the back of his neck, and stars danced before him.

Another streak of light cut into the sky, going in the opposite direction. There was a brilliant flash in the sky. A counterstrike, perhaps. More of the blinding flashes made nighttime bright. The moon hung in the sky; blood red… it was as if a single glowing eye were staring at him from the sky, seeing everything he did. It made the boy feel naked and unprotected.

There was a roar of automatic gunfire and a cry of “Holy Shit!” The boy began to climb to his feet, head throbbing mercilessly. He began to totter towards the voices, friends... One foot, then the other… He stumbled to the corner, when someone turned around and stumbled into him. He toppled over, landing flat on hs back.

“I have found another survivor.” He looked up and saw a girl – woman? – with dark eyes and hair, a sharp face, and an unsympathetic expression. Oddly, she had not stumbled at all when she collided with the boy.

She was wearing some kind of uniform, but the boy could not make it out. A human shape came around the corner, gun at the ready. “Good, get him into the APC.” The boy was dragged to his feet and thrown into the back of a some kind of large army truck, where he drifted off into a blissful unconsciousness.

-

His eyes flickered open. A nurse was standing over him, face hard and unfeeling. She saw his eyes open and quickly summoned the doctor. The fellow looked short of sleep and overworked.

“Who’s this?” he asked, tiredly.

“John Doe.”

“Alright. What’s your name, son?”

The boy wet his lips and managed to croak, “Isaac…”

“Isaac who?”

“Isaac Kafka,” Isaac managed. His throat began to ache as he spoke the words.

“Get Kafka here some water and food. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Isaac became aware of the study chatter of gunfire in the distance, punctuated by explosions. He did not know what was going on. He did not want to find out. He just wanted to drift off again…

But he was too hungry. Too thirsty. The water was warm, but felt good as it sloshed down his throat; the food tasted terrible, but it felt good in his stomach. He finally curled up to go back to sleep, when the door of the tent opened again and in strode a young woman he recognized… she was the one he collided with.

“Here he is,” the nurse said, nervously. The woman – she was wearing a uniform of the Intelligence Directorate – walked over to Isaac’s bed. She looked down at him.

“You are coming with me,” she said, calmly.

“Please,” he said, softly, “I just want to sleep.”

“You are in great danger here. You will come with me, or die.”

It was the choice between staying awake miserably or sleeping forever.

“Alright, I’ll come…”

He found that both his legs were numb and refused to move, and was even more surprised when the girl-woman picked him up and carried him out. He looked down; his legs seemed to be fully attached and in working order.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“You suffered minor nerve damage in a chemical attack. It will heal soon enough.”

“A chemical attack? What are you talking about?”

She ignored the question and carried him into a tank, which was idling in the refugee camp. It looked rusted and decrepit, but it was running smoothly enough. Isaac looked around. There was a wall of tents along a cracked asphault road, stretching out in either direction. Soldiers stood guard here and there, watching the dirty, hungry, and frightened people with complete austerity.

She careful put him on the tank, climbed up herself, picked him again, and carefully handed him down to the operators inside the tank. There was a roar as the engine came to life, and the double-barreled vehicle set off down the road.

“Who are you?” asked Isaac, at last. He had been placed in his sitting on the floor.

The girl was looking through a monitor that gave an infrared view of the sky above. It was strangely beautiful, with all the red swirls and patterns. “I am Seraat Sevani.”

“Do you work for the Intelligence Directorate?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you care what happens to me?”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Humanity is at war, Kafka. You are to be a soldier.”

Isaac started, visibly. “What? I’m not even old enough to be in the draft!”

“That is of little concern. Some feeling should be returning to your legs.”

He found that he was. As opposed to being paralyzed, he could now move around as if his foot were asleep. He got to his feet and hobbled by Seraat, looking out the tank towards a rather imposing tunnel. “Where are we going?”

“US Emergency Defensive Shelter 19.”

“Huh?”

“A stronghold.”

“Against whom?”

Seraat said nothing.

-

A large cliff loomed in the distance. Isaac looked closely and saw a camouflaged doorway set into it; he realized that it was very large indeed.

The tank pulled in front the entryway. It slowly began to rise, revealing an elevator leading down into depths unknown. The vehicle rolled slowly onto the platform as if in first gear; the gate closed behind them and lights flashed on, blinding the infrared sensor. The elevator began to descend, moving with agonizing slowness, rolling past metallic walls.

-

Seraat and Isaac stayed together through the corridors, crowded as they were. They were alive with activity; people rushed about, carrying handheld computers and clipboards and weapons. Isaac became increasingly confused as they moved through the hallways; how Seraat navigated them he was unsure. Finally, they arrived at an imposing gate at the end of a dark hallway.

Seraat slid an ID card through the cardreader next to the door. It slid open, revealing yet another door. They stepped inside. The old door slid shut; the new one opened. The entered into some kind of command bridge. There were surprisingly few people there, mostly wearing the grey-blue uniforms of the Intelligence Directorate. They were sitting at computers, fingers flying across the keys with seemingly superhuman speed. Isaac looked around, surprise apparent on his face.

Seraat placed a hand on his back and gently guided him towards the windows. He gasped. Arranged below him were hundreds of armored suits, ranging from seven feet tall to twenty. They looked oddly… human. They had strange symbols emblazoned on their chest, reminding Isaac of Nordic runes.

“You are a soldier; this is your weapon,” said Seraat.

“What are they?”

“The last great hope of mankind.”

-