Dark Sanity

The Soulless Messiah

After an hour of being unconscious, Flint awoke and found himself inside the flooded steamship over Gunthrel’s shoulder. His comrade lifted him to the surface of a platform one level below the vessel’s roof and then put him down. Violently coughing out water, Flint groaned and gasped for oxygen.

“Are you all right?” asked Gunthrel.

“I think so,” said Flint weakly. He turned around and searched the platform. No one was there. “Where are the others? Are they alive?”

“Anissa’s fine.”

“And the others?” asked Flint.

His helmet downturned, Gunthrel answered, “Dale’s unconscious, and Clarienus refuses to leave.”

“Shit,” cursed Flint. “Wait a minute, Clarienus can breathe underwater?”

Gunthrel nodded at him.

“She’s probably better off here,” said Flint. “We don’t want her to scare anyone.” He rose to his feet, wobbling. Gunthrel grabbed him, holding him steady. “Thanks. I must’ve hit my head pretty hard.” He rubbed his forehead and added, “Let’s get out.”

The duo climbed a ladder through a hatch and stepped onto the titanium roof that faintly sparkled. Anissa was holding Dale, but when she saw Flint she gently laid Dale’s head down and rushed over to Flint, hugging him.

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” she said.

“So am I,” replied Flint. He looked ahead and noticed fourteen survivors of Gamma squadron scouting the area. “Glad we’re not alone.”

“I told them to go ahead,” said Gunthrel.

“Good idea,” said Flint. “Who knows if the rest of the military was alerted by our little incursion, not to mention crash landing here.”

“We’d better hurry,” said Anissa.

Gunthrel grasped Dale and carried him astride over his bulky pauldrons. Flint and Anissa leaped into the green water, swimming to the shore. The waves sporadically fell over them while they swam. They eventually reached the sandy shore, breathing heavily.

“That water is icky,” said Anissa.

“At least we can breathe,” said Flint, observing the region.

The area where they stood was a beach. Farther away, however, lay a wilderness teeming with life. Flint and his friends rejoined Gamma squadron and walked toward the jungle. When they entered it, most of the steamwalkers bashed branches apart since they were getting in their way.

“Is this where your resistance is located?” asked Gunthrel.

Flint shrugged and glanced at Anissa who seemed to be lost in thought. She was walking mindlessly through the wilderness like Clarienus.

“Anissa,” called out Flint, snapping her out of her daydreaming. “Is it here?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t remember where exactly they are. But yes, they’re somewhere around here.”

“Should we spread out?” asked Gunthrel.

They abruptly heard numerous dimensional weapons activate. That instant, an army of camouflaged men rose from the dense bushes. They were all aiming their weapons at Gamma squadron. When they noticed Flint among the giants in armor, however, they appeared slightly less anxious to shoot. Nevertheless, their sudden approach caused Flint and his comrades to raise their weapons.

“Hold your fire!” said one of the camouflaged men. He stepped out of the bushes, warily approaching his targets. “Flint Cross?”

“That’s me,” he said, cocking his magnums. “Now don’t come any closer.”

“We’re on the same side,” replied the camouflaged man. “Stand down, men!” He lowered his weapon and added, “The name’s Jeremy Woodson.”

“This man is in dire need of medical attention,” said Flint, pointing at Dale.

“We can help,” replied Jeremy. “But before we leave, I’d like to know one thing—should I call you Flint or perhaps Ethan?”

Flint shrugged. “Call me whatever you’d like.”

“Ethan it is,” said Jeremy. “And I’m sure those who remember you during the war will be calling you the same.” He waved his hand while turning around. “Come, I’ll take you to our base of operations. I’m sure you went through a lot to find us.”

“Through hell and back,” said Flint.

Jeremy and his camouflaged troops guided Flint deeper into the forest. Though they had to travel several miles, Flint took the opportunity to explain everything he’d been through since his days in Desonas. Jeremy shook his head several times—the word flabbergasted would be an understatement to describe his reactions to Flint’s tales, but it nevertheless did justice.

“I don’t know how you’re still alive, but thank goodness you’re here,” said Jeremy. He continued to guide Flint and his entourage through the woods. Upon walking one more mile, he stopped and added, “We’re here.”

“Huh?” uttered Flint, glancing around and only seeing the dense forest.

His comrades were just as confused and frustrated. They then heard a loud mechanical snap as though every branch in the forest had splintered; the land on which they stood abruptly descended like an elevator. With the exception of Anissa, Flint and his company were amazed. The ground beneath them appeared to be a camouflaged platform that looked as real as the rest of the forest’s terrain.

“Very interesting,” said Gunthrel.

Flint agreed, gazing up and seeing another artificial platform of soil and grass slide over the hole above to keep the base hidden.

“I hope you don’t mind being underground again,” said Jeremy.

“Are you kidding?” responded Flint. “Though it may not be the paradise we wish for, it reminds me of a fine home I once had.”

Gunthrel and his fellow steamwalkers concurred. Although the architecture was vastly different than Soalace, it nevertheless made them feel at home. When the elevator reached the bottom, it clanked, and a brass door unsealed. Jeremy, along with his militia, led Flint and his comrades into the secret base.

“I need a doctor to look after this man,” said Jeremy, pointing at Dale.

Several people in the tunnel approached Gunthrel who gently laid Dale on the floor. The group of men in greenish-brown clothes picked Dale up and took him to one of the underground infirmaries.

After walking through another dim tunnel for a minute, they entered a large chamber that resembled an old underground shelter for homeless people.

Flint saw countless men, women, and children on the floor with tattered clothes and old makeshift beds. Seeing them this way tore him apart. He wondered to himself, was this the kind of life people had to live just to be free? No one in the universe deserved this fate, especially the innocent. He stared at the refugees with teary eyes, trying not to cry. Flint forced himself to be strong since these people needed him now more than ever.

When they saw him, it was like seeing an angel arrive. No normal man was dressed like a cowboy in the 54th century—only one man, and that man was Flint Cross. They instantly got to their feet, flocking to him. And those who didn’t spot him right away soon did when they noticed others running toward him.

“Flint Cross!” they cried out with relief.

Numerous people tried to touch his hands while he passed by with troops. Seeing him was a symbol of hope, respect, and freedom. Men, women, and children of diverse ethnicities from Earth surrounded him. Flint smiled and waved at as many of them as he could. Upon witnessing this, it became evident to him that the people before him represented the last family of love in the universe. Standing still for a moment, staring at the remaining rebels and refugees, he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or pity them.

“This way,” said Jeremy, speaking louder than usual to make sure Flint could hear him over the elated crowd. “Though it’s been two decades, I’m sure there’s someone who would like to see you.”

“Hamarah?” said Flint ecstatically.

“I don’t know who that is,” replied Jeremy, “but perhaps our leader may know; he’s been around a bit longer than us younglings. Follow me. I’ll take you to him.”

Though disappointed, Flint complied, trying to smile at the multitude. He entered another tunnel where more people flocked to him. There was so much commotion that other rebel troops came to see what was going on. They then saw Flint and shouted for joy, raising their weapons while praising him.

“Seems like you’re Pardashan in these parts,” said Gunthrel.

“Never,” said Flint. “Pardashan, may his soul rest in peace, was a man who stood against the odds and lived for you and your people.”

“Much like someone I’m walking next to,” said Gunthrel.

Flint shook his head, slightly blushing. He and his comrades continued walking through the maze-like tunnels, following Jeremy. Eventually, they reached the end of a passageway that led to a chamber filled with rebel tacticians. Some of them were using computers while others studied cosmic grids displayed along the walls.

Upon seeing Flint, however, they stopped what they were doing and ran over to him, shouting and cheering in disbelief. One of the men who looked as wrinkled and old as Flint approached him in the midst of the crowd. Flint didn’t recognize him, but there seemed to be something familiar about the aged man who smiled, shedding tears of joy. He hugged Flint in disbelief.

“Welcome back, Ethan,” said the elderly man.

“You must forgive me,” began Flint, “but after the war ended...after being imprisoned, the tribunal—”

“Took away your memory,” finished the elderly man. “Yes, I know what the tribunal did to you. It’s a miracle to see you alive.” He shook Flint’s hand and said, “I am Gregory Browder, the leader of this resistance.”

“Browder?” said Flint.

“You remember the name?” asked Gregory.

“My God,” said Flint, staring sharply at him. “You’re his brother, aren’t you? You’re Andrew’s brother.”

Gregory nodded and, with a hopeful expression, asked, “Is he with you?”

Flint looked down while shaking his head in misery. “Joey killed him before I could do anything,” he said.

“No,” muttered Gregory, his lips quivering. “No, it can’t be.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Flint dismally.

Gregory took a seat, tears rolling down his wrinkled cheeks. He then stammered, “When I first heard rumors of a man rising by the name of Flint Cross—a name the tribunal had given you—I hoped with all my heart that he was with you; that the two of you had managed to escape the military’s grasp. Ethan, tell me, who is this Joey who killed my brother?”

“In this universe, I have no idea,” said Flint. “But he seems to be the one responsible for hiring bounty hunters who’ve been hunting me down for the past year.”

“What?” said Gregory, standing back up. “Could it be the Commandant?”

“Commandant?” said Flint, perplexed.

Gregory Browder approached a small computer in the back of the room, typed into it, and displayed an image of a middle-aged man in a military uniform. As soon as Flint saw the image, he fiercely squinted at it. Although the man no longer had a mustache, he was, without a doubt, Joey.

“Is that him?” asked Gregory.

“Oh, yes,” said Flint, gritting his teeth. “That’s him all right.” He clenched his hands into fists as he continued, “I’ve been waiting a long time to put a bullet in his head. Where do we find him?”

“His real name is Cain Sullivan,” said Gregory. “He’s the current Commander-in-Chief of the military. And, unfortunately, like the tribunal, we can’t approach him.”

“Then how do we lure him out?” asked Flint.

Gregory stared at the crowd of people and sighed. “I don’t know,” he said. “None of us know how. We’d probably have to do something drastic to get his attention.”

“Like what?” asked Flint, approaching Gregory with a face of curiosity.

Gregory looked as though he were deeply lost in thought. “Like destroying Titan,” he finally said.

“That’s impossible,” said Jeremy. “We’d be wiped out in seconds.”

“He’s right,” said one of the tacticians in the room. “The military is probably waiting for us to make that mistake.”

“Wait,” said Flint. “What exactly is Titan?”

“It’s the prison that holds the rest of the resistance,” said Gregory. “Everyone is there, including Andrew’s son, Michael.”

“Michael Browder?” said Flint. “If the rest of the resistance is there, then that means my daughter may be there.”

“You have a daughter?” asked Gregory, startled.

“Well,” began Flint, conflicted by the truth, “she’s…yes, she’s my daughter. I need to rescue her. And if doing so frees Michael and the others, as well as helps lure Jo—Sullivan out, then Titan needs to fall.”

“We barely have an army!” protested Jeremy.

“And we only have one military ship!” objected another tactician.

The rebels grew noisy, complaining and debating whether they should initiate an attack or stay in hiding. Flint, however, walked over to a plinth in the chamber and raised his hands, a flare of hope in his eyes. When the people saw this, they became silent and stared at him with questionable expressions, which told him that he only had one chance to prove why they should risk their lives.

“Look at where we are,” said Flint. “Is this the life you want to live? Is this the life you want for your children, and the children of their children? Do you want this to be an endless cycle? Do you want to hide forever? Synthesis is upon us. Sooner or later, we need to stand up and fight for our humanity.”

Just then, he flinched and wondered, was he even human? No, he didn’t believe so. In fact, in this underground base he was the only person who had unnatural abilities, such as his abnormal strength and near-flawless accuracy. Realizing that he had no humanity made him feel empty. He had no soul—like the tribunal. He suddenly felt like one of the many machines in the chamber, incapable of having human values. This frightened him. It made him miserable, and it ate away at his sanity. Yet he refused to steal hope from these people. It didn’t matter if they weren’t perfect because it was “natural” not to be. And to him, the nature of imperfection was an integral part of being human, even if he himself was somewhat of an outcast.

“I know many of you may be terrified to lose what little remains of our freedom,” Flint went on. “Despite what happened in the past, the war never ended. In spite of what the tribunal did to me two decades ago, I came back. And I came back to finish what I started. Follow me to Titan, and we shall continue where we left off. Follow me, and we shall show the tribunal how great we are despite our flaws!”

About half of the crowd cheered. Those who didn’t simply gave a slight nod when they heard the others, and then many of them decided to join in the cheering. Most of the rebels were now praising Flint.

“All right, people, settle down,” said Gregory. “If we’re going to do this, we’ll need to devise a strategy.”

“I’m fresh out of ideas,” said Jeremy.

“I don’t mean to pry,” began Gunthrel, looking at Flint, “but what army is going to be attacking that Titan place?”

“Your army,” said Flint, winking at him.

Gunthrel sighed. “It’s a smart idea, but is it fair to my brethren? You guided them to a new home, and—”

“And you agreed to join me,” interjected Flint. “I’m sure Omicron squadron would like to show the military some love. We still have the mothership, remember?”

“But is it the right thing to do?”

Flint tilted his head and calmly said, “I promised to guide your people to a world without lurkens; however, you must realize that the military rules this universe with an iron fist, and as long as the tribunal is in power, your people will always have to worry about synthesis, just like my people. Is that what you really want?”

“No,” said Gunthrel, frowning. “But I still think it’s wrong to abuse my brethren.”

“I’m not abusing them, Gunthrel,” said Flint defensively. “If we don’t do something to stop the military, we’ll all eventually suffer the consequences. Hiding won’t save your people. Not now…not ever.”

Gunthrel gave a faint nod. He was still upset with Flint for planning such an attack with his own people without even consulting him about it until now, but he nevertheless agreed that this had to be done. Trying to look at the bigger picture, he managed to put his resentment aside and listened to the voice of reason.

“You’re right,” he said gruffly. “Thanks to you finding a planet that doesn’t have much light, for the very first time my people can explore a world without worrying about using armor to survive. I’ll…I’ll contact Soalace.”

“Thank you,” said Flint, relieved. “What you’re doing is helping your people, as well as mine.” He gave him a warm smile and then turned to Gregory. “I wanted to ask you something earlier, but so much has happened since I came.” He paused for a moment, afraid to ask. “What happened to Hamarah?”

“I’m very happy you remember her,” said Gregory. “Unfortunately, she hasn’t been with us since the war had—”

“Where is she?” asked Anissa tersely.

“I don’t know,” replied Gregory in an irked tone. “Besides, why would you care? You’ve never been interested in this war.”

“Excuse me?” snapped Anissa.

“Please,” began Flint, intervening, “no fighting. We just wanted to know Hamarah’s whereabouts. Perhaps she’s still hiding.”

“I’d like to believe so,” said Gregory.

“But I don’t understand,” said Anissa. “I received a message from her a week ago telling me she was here.”

“What?” said Gregory. “That’s impossible. She hasn’t been here in decades.”

“Forgive the intrusion,” said Gunthrel, “but is it possible the military contacted Anissa under the guise of Hamarah to confirm any suspicions about this place?”

“Wouldn’t they have attacked by now?” said Jeremy.

“This is troubling,” said Gregory. “I thought you came because you remembered where this place was located.”

“No,” said Flint. “Anissa had the coordinates.”

“Something’s not right,” said Gregory. “If the military does in fact have something to do with this, then we need to—”

The installation trembled with sounds of explosions, and an alarm went off. Although the rebel troops were panicky, they attempted to get their weapons. Many of the refugees, however, screamed and ran aimlessly. Flint and his companions were the only ones who were somewhat composed.

Gunthrel and his squad promptly activated their dimensional cannons. Flint, meanwhile, pulled out his magnums and approached the tunnels where Jeremy, Gregory, and the other rebel troops took position. The underground base continued to tremble due to more explosions. Not a minute later, the ceiling cracked and collapsed. Silence fell. Most of the rebels lay dead. Flint was the only person who still moved through the rubble, but one of the thousands of military soldiers approached him and blasted him with an ST-8 stunning rifle. Flint immediately cringed and fell unconscious.