Chapter 120: The Situation in Neo-Atlas Inferior
During the following half hour, the panic and the police sirens only managed to increase; without apparent end. The clamor that came from the distance no longer differentiated itself from a true bloody battlefield.
At no moment did he enter his apartment, even when the rain abated and a soft yellowish layer adhered over his attire. He preferred that the smell of ashes and unknown chemicals assaulted his nostrils, without intention of refusing.
Only the wind that carried the salinity of the raindrops managed to awaken him during instants.
The land where innumerable inhabitants dwelled, had converted themselves into the gates of hell. Where the death, misfortune and diseases propagated with fury under the command of legions.
That was his perspective. The disaster that had struck Neo-Atlas Inferior.
This time, the presumed terrorist attack, lasted even more time. And extended itself even more. The smoke rose from different parts of the city.
And the majority of common and ordinary citizens still did not even know what was happening. Hiding in their homes, trusting for the first time in the system that had forged so many lacks.
The noise disappeared, but the threat in their hearts persisted. Like a needle deeply driven, that produced a pulsing and constant pain.
Almost no one dared to leave their homes.
Gabriel’s back was soaked in cold sweat, with a confused and complicated expression. In his mind still reproduced that sudden feeling; that fervent fear that had been born inside him, without any explanation.
It was fear, mixed with dissatisfaction.
A primitive warning.
But something inside him did not share his stoic feeling. Instead, it found itself dissatisfied and hungry, like a superior beast insulted.
And that small fact, caused his confusion.
He was not an absolute fool. Although many times he acted like one. The connections existed and repeated themselves in his mind with exactitude.
There was a question in his heart: Could he stop being human?
An indifferent beast, constructed on the base of an instinctive thirst for blood and an extreme longevity.
Over his forehead, his white-haired—almost silver, was only a premonition of a destiny that must be fulfilled.
A pain assaulted his temple, when a horrible beep was heard in his ear.
And next appeared an enormous face, totally holographic, over the giant screens that covered the city. It was aged and its eyes carried an almost cruel indifference.
"Attention citizens of Neo-Atlas Inferior, the danger has been contained. I repeat: the danger has been contained. Remain in your homes until the consequences are totally eradicated."
It vanished after a few seconds. Its face had hung deeply indifferent over the city, with practically all witnessing that act.
He had to contain the rage, for his own good. It was a lost cause. From very early in his life he had learned that getting angry for those motives was haughty and a loss of time on his part, for no one would hear him really.
The society had defects. Men and women alike, died frozen or by consequence of the terrible chemicals that came from the industrial zones. No one cared. A perverse daily life.
"Have the consequences still not been totally eradicated?"
The phrase that had maintained itself turning in his head. Like a ball that rebounds infinitely over four walls. It was... remarkable.
A confession in all its letters. Disproportionate words or motivated by the chaotic state of the misfortune?
But its meaning was still unknown. Realizing random suppositions only could create more confusions.
The fragile smoke only tinted the horizon with its dark colors during a few hours, until finally it vanished with the disappearance of the rain.
The city that had stopped functioning, returned to its habitual movement. But this time in the form of floods of questions to unknowns that had been sown in the collective imagination.
Over the gray palette of colors that covered the skies, violaceous tones that recalled hope appeared.
He rested over his bed, with the knuckles pained by the pressure. The edge of the scythe shone over his head, a stone that constantly rolled downhill.
And he was not the only one.
Many had discovered that their monochromatic routine reality, could convert itself into a sudden hell. And no one desired that this repeated itself.
The majority of the ancient news had been erased after the second attack. For a strange motive the damage had concentrated above all in the West, advancing until the North and without being able to cross the limits of the Center.
The quantity of deaths was accounted in tens of thousands.
But there still was no satisfactory conclusion about the supposed investigation.
Nonsense!
"These damned pigs in suits will always keep their ass safe. And they do not even want to explain what really happened." He murmured with rage. It was the reason of the pain in his knuckles. The impotence and incapacity to accept that class of perversity.
Very few times he got angry in that way.
But the events of that day, transported him directly to that day.
One of his best friends had died in strange circumstances of the same mode. Without rites nor any possibility of farewell.
Strange circumstances because that, very probably, was written in his report.
The powerful spheres hidden and visible in contrast, could act in an impune quite shameful manner. Creating installations of high confidential degree, where they kidnapped victims for unknown ends.
That was the degree of differences.
"All this is absolutely useless." He said without energies. He sighed resignedly because without the force or the influence, he could not realize absolutely anything that was useful.
It was the human experience in its splendor. A food delivery man... What could he do?
In the end, that was his real position. A statistic reduced to an insignificant value.
But it would not last much.
At that moment, a universal notification appeared. It was another of those boring conferences, but this time motivated by the consequences of the consecutive cataclysm.
The previous old man was not seen in any place.
A young man appeared at the front, with the hair combed with gel and the shirt ironed. His eyes were solemn— Almost like a minister of war.
His words were not encouraging.
"We are knowers of the disasters that have occurred in our city today. Our homeland was attacked and God abandoned us. The figures rise until hundreds of thousands of deceased."
His words instantaneously froze innumerable individuals who attentively heard the urgent transmission.
The conservatives regarding the figures, had to press strongly the backrest of their chairs.
It was an apocalyptic event.
"Among the figures there are: fathers and brothers, mothers and sisters. We cannot allow that this continues occurring; if we are humans, this is a stain. And we must fight."
His discourse had taken a sudden turn, attacking directly the emotionality of the masses and encouraging an unexpected conclusion.
"The West Sector suffered more than only an attack: it is the highest mountain of the gods, producing shadow of destruction to its creation. Strange creatures crossed the curtain of the reality, reproducing their supernatural chaos over the earth. But we will not remain with crossed arms." He said fervently the presenter, drinking from a bottle of water. "It reunites us all as a tribe. And in the next hours confidential recordings will be reproduced at public level."
Suddenly the shoulders of Gabriel felt lighter. He had had reason in his most irrational conclusions— And however much it was terrifying, a certainty was more benign than the unknown emptiness.
The presenter took a few seconds before finishing, pronouncing some solemn words.
"This is a war."