Anarchy, Burning(ONC2022 Entry)

Part 20- Harrison

The building groans and plaster falls from the ceiling, crashing to the filthy floor. Harrison sits in the corner atop a pile of rubble. Like the structure, he's falling apart. Blood pools in his shoe and he's gone deaf in one ear. His only clean piece of clothing is the surgical mask they demanded he wear. A violent cough leaves his throat burning and his body bone weak. More plaster falls to the floor and Harrison feels a twitch run up his spine.

I can't be here.

All around him, the minorities fawn over the wounded as they argue over what to do in the next room. It doesn't make any sense. If they would just listen, Harrison knows exactly what to do. A man cries out and one of the medics runs to his side. More minorities and more monsters. Harrison can barely contain his frustration.

The blast nearly killed him and the others are more concerned with those strange children than his busted leg. A guy in fatigues claimed it couldn't have been a nuclear attack. He said he confirmed it with Geiger Counters and other measurement tools, but it all seems like fake news. It rankles. Why does it matter whether it was a nuke or not when lots of good, salt of the earth Americans died out there. It burns to breathe.

They'd found shelter and more survivors. Harrison thought talk would turn towards getting rescued and the military rolling in to fix things. Looking at the dozens of uniforms walking around, he thought it was the obvious next step. Instead, all anyone can talk about are these Heaven Sent. Heaven Sent. If the children are actually sent from heaven, why aren't they doing something about those monsters in the streets.

"Hey, papa. Are you okay?"

Harrison looks up to find the gangbanger staring at him. The man has fresh bandages on his shoulder and his arm in a sling. They'd tried to check out Harrison's leg, but he wasn't going to let a female nurse work on him when there was an able-bodied male doctor working on other people. When he made that clear, they'd ignored him, leaving him to fend for himself. Looking at the Hispanic guy's fresh bandages makes Harrison want to scream.

Liberals... their immorality caused this in the first place. Same sex marriages, mask restrictions. Of course they were creating Hell on Earth.

"Harrison, how are you doing?"

"Look, amigo. It's pronounced Har-ri-son," Harrison sneers. "I'm fine. I don't need your pity."

"Shit, man. Shaniqua asked me to check on you."

"I don't need her pity either."

"You don't have to be an ass. We're all trying to take care of each other."

"Fuck you."

"You're a real mierda sucia."

"I don't speak that shit, amigo."

Harrison flips the banger the bird as the man walks away. Eventually he turns his attention back to the next room. The side door bursts open and a group of soldiers rush in carrying something big. People start running around, soldiers snap commands, and the place comes alive with activity. In his curiosity, Harrison wanders over to the doorway to see what the commotion is about.

The maps and equipment lay scattered on the floor and a winged man twitches on the table. Much of his face is a burnt mess and his right wing is a ruined nub. His medieval armor, bent and twisted, looks as if he'd been hit by a train. Judging by his injuries, the man should be dead.

"Who is he?" Harrison asks a red-headed biker type.

"Seraph Dem. He's the fool who said we could beat those things." The biker spit in the dirt. "Bastard's still alive when so many others are dead."

"Died in the nuke?"

"What nuke?" The man looks at Harrison like he's an idiot.

"Argon... General Argon..." Seraph Dem whispers.

Many look around confused. Harrison catches sight of the lesbians who joined his group. The Latina seems to recognize the name.

"Argon is known for her relentless determination. She is on The Organization's hit list. We've lost quite a few hunters trying to eliminate her," explains a pale man with platinum blonde hair. He speaks like the robot from Star Trek.

"She's l... looking for the children. The Heaven Sent." Seraph Dem tries to sit up, but his injured arms can't hold his weight. "The gates are closed, no light will come from on high, but the children will be our salvation. The Heaven Sent create light. Protect them... protect the light."

Seraph Dem tries to say more, but his body becomes rigid and ashen. Medics rush in to fuss over the angel and Harrison backs away. He wanders around aimlessly for some time, trying to make sense of the chaos that has become his life. The building, once a textile warehouse, provides a multitude of areas to get lost.

It isn't fair. He paid his taxes, he voted republican, he pushed against the liberals. He doesn't deserve for his life to end like this... not over some colored kids.

He joins the bikers out back where they share cigarettes and grumble about losing friends in a battle doomed from the start. They give Harrison a long appraising look before clapping him on the shoulder sharing their smokes.

"Hey, Axel. Give this man a beer," calls the red-head from before.

The guy who brings the brew is pale with long wavy platinum hair. As Harrison takes the drink he can't help but feel like he's seen his face before.

"To the men who won't see another dawn," red-beard says, pouring a bit of suds onto the ground.

Others do the same. Harrison pours a bit and is struck by a coughing fit. He leaves half his beer on the floor.

"Did you lose a lot of people, buddy?"

Everyone turns to Harrison. He takes a gulp of beer and sighs. He didn't lose anybody. He ain't never have anybody. He swallows with nothing to say.

"That bad, brother? We get it," red-beard says, saving him from embarrassing himself. "Axel over there and I were assigned to a mobile unit. We're the only dicks that got outta that shit storm alive."

"I lost a dozen men when one of those beetles brought a building down on top of us," shares a man with a pot belly.

"Minotaurs cut right through m'boys like we was nothin'... we wasn't ready," remembers a guy with an eyepatch.

"To our fallen," Harrison says, raising his bottle, pretending to understand their grief. "May we..."

His thoughts trail off as he looks at Axel. The pale man tilts his head to the side. His hair glows and his eyes grow distant.

"Don't mind him," red-beard says. "Those contemporaries talk to each other like that."

"It's fucking strange."

"Right on, but it's better than a walkie-talkie."

Axel's eyes regain their focus and his expression grows somber.

"The demons have found Safe House Charlie. We expect a ninety percent casualty rate. Reinforcements will not be sent."

The man's matter of fact tone rubs Harrison the wrong way.

"This is bullshit." Red-beard tosses his bottle at the wall. "Seraph Dem is dead and no one has taken charge yet. Are we supposed to just sit around here and wait for them to pick us off?"

Harrison looks around and his mind goes back to the ridiculous plan he'd come up with as he limped through the warehouse halls.

"I have an idea of how we can survive this nightmare." He likes the way they all give him their undivided attention. "Axel, get me another brew."

The pale man nods and does what he's told.