TimeRipper Read online

  It took a few moments for him to realise that the thunder didn’t just sound like explosions… they were explosions. ‘Shit!’ he whispered, uttering a rare expletive. He watched, his bloody nose forgotten, as a huge ball of rolling purple smoke filled the sky. He needed to get out of his transport. He didn’t know where he was going to go, but he knew he had to go somewhere.

  His hands, slick with blood, grasped at the door handles. It took a while—in reality, it was nowhere near as long as it felt—before he gained purchase and was able to flick the switch, freeing himself from the vehicle. The odd sensation of being suspended in mid-air by a magnetic field was stomach churning, but it paled I comparison with the backdrop of the terrifying mass of purple turmoil that was rolling towards him.

  He made the short jump from the hanging transport onto the system track and turned to witness Armageddon.

  4.

  Oklahoma, USA. 2288

  THE FIRST INKLING of the coming end of the world that Jeb received was the total blackout of his harvester’s controls. Expertly, his eyes navigated the dials and readouts of the cockpit, he pressed buttons and pulled on levers. Nothing was responding. He had another flashback to his failed outing when he was a child, but as there was no time for nostalgia now, he shut those thoughts away, and continued his battle for control of his vehicle.

  The harvester lurched, and he felt himself pitch forwards.

  As the ground rushed towards him, his brain searched for the great white owl, the one with the rat still in its talons, but it was nowhere to be seen. Of course, it’s nowhere to be seen, he thought. That was over forty years ago.

  He managed to guide the vehicle to as soft a landing as he could. The screaming of the gears and the blades played an ugly cacophony in his head. It reminded him of the fanfare of the four horsemen of the apocalypse from a film he had seen many years earlier.

  Although he didn’t know it, that thought was rather prophetic.

  With a struggle, unbuckled himself and climbed out of the cockpit, onto the disturbed soil of his field. His hands were everywhere checking himself for wounds. He was more than surprised to find that there were none. The harvester, however, was a different story. That would be out of commission for at least the rest of the season. He turned, expecting to see his son’s harvesters bearing down on his position, coming to his aid, but they were still over the other side of the field, working their own patch of the wheat.

  That was when he felt the world around him vibrate. His head snapped towards the downed vehicle, expecting see flames.

  There were none.

  He began to run. He knew that he needed to get as far away from the stricken vehicle as he could. It didn’t matter what direction he just wanted to get a fair distance from the disturbing vibrations. It didn’t seem to matter which way he ran, no matter how far he got away from the harvester, the vibrations were the same.

  Realising that the danger was not coming from the vehicle, he stopped. Bent over, his hands on his knees, panting, he looked up towards the sky. Despite the illumination of the lights over his field, he should have been able to get a glimpse of the sun making its first appearance of the day. Instead, all he could see was an odd, purple glow.

  It was then that the end of the world truly began for Jeb. It happened relatively slowly, beginning with an explosion.

  The field around him lit up, briefly, as one of the harvesters working on the other side of the field burst into flames. He shielded his eyes from the brightness before the realisation of what had just happened descended upon him. ‘Christopher…’ he yelled! He began to run towards the inferno that, only moments before, had been his youngest son’s harvester. He had to stop and throw himself to the ground as debris, and shrapnel, from the explosion began to pelt him and the ground around him. Eventually the bombardment stopped, but he noted that the deep vibrations in the ground were getting worse. He lifted his head from the mud, and his grief filled eyes took in the devastation around him.

  Then a second explosion rocked his world.

  He watched as another harvester exploded. It became a floating ball of flame hovering in the air. The wheat directly below it was burning. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  ‘Michael,’ he sobbed and dropped his face, back into the wet ground.

  He didn’t want to believe what was occurring, what he had just witnessed. Five minutes ago, he had been looking forward to the best day of the year, enjoying both of his sons being home for the harvest; but now they were gone, both of them, in a matter of seconds.

  He lifted his filthy face from the, still vibrating, ground and looked up at the sky. Slowly, he picked himself up from the littered ground.

  That was when the lights above the field blinked out. As the flickering, amber and orange, illumination of the two destroyed harvesters bathed him in heat, a strange feeling washed over him. Every hair on his body stood on end. He felt his skin beginning to fizzle and crack. There was a sickening buzz of electricity in the air. Within the turbulent, purple sky above him, forks of bright purple lightning flashed across his vision, punching through the rolling clouds. This was like nothing he had ever seen before, as the flashed became even more frequent.

  All he could do was watch, motionless, as the huge, rolling, purple cloud billowed slowly towards him.

  The wrist device he was wearing began to scream. It dragged his attention away from the mesmerising cloud. He looked at it. The display was blinking, displaying an error message. He never had the time to process what could have been causing the error before the device exploded. The blast tore away half of his hand, ripping three fingers clean off. The pain, and the shock, didn’t even register as the hypnotising effect of the cloud took back his full attention. Even as the robotic help—some in the sky, some not—began to explode, he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the rolling clouds.

  Eventually, it hit him.

  The awesome power of the storm engulfed him, stripping the clothes from his back, stripping the skin from his body, eating through his organs, and finally, disintegrated his bones.

  As the purple cloud passed it left no sign of life, or debris. Only a scorched, barren Earth in its wake.

  5.

  Paris, France. 2288

  ALPHONSE LOOKED SKYWARD as the vibrations rocked the boulevard. Of the thousands of fellow pedestrians using the Rue de Vichy, only about a third of them had registered that something was wrong. His gaze passed the small, and seemingly inconsequential, drama of the removal of the stricken transport from the Slipstream track and looked at the sky above it.

  He honestly couldn’t remember when he had last looked at the sky, but what he could remembered was that it was supposed to be either blue or grey, depending on the weather, but he had never, ever, seen it purple. He was also certain that forks of lightning were supposed to be white, not the multitude of colours that were illuminating the murky clouds above him.

  Before he had further time to muse on this, the Slipstream track above him exploded.

  The removal transport exploded first, and in doing so caused a chain reaction that gave the illusion the whole Slipstream track had gone up. The vehicle it was lifting from the track exploded next. It showered the other vehicles, that had been caught in the jam, with melted plastics and glowing, red hot shrapnel. This fireball caused the other transports to explode, one by one. The debris and shrapnel from these explosions began to shower the people on the boulevard below.

  Panic ensued as thousands of pedestrians began screaming and running in a myriad of different directions.

  Chaos took the city hostage.

  Alphonse had nowhere to run to. He watched as the gendarme who had accosted him was hit in the face by a large piece of glowing, twisted metal. The missile ripped the top of the man’s head clean off, Set his hat alight, and spraying Alphonse with the unfortunate man’s blood. As he crumpled, screaming in death throws, Alphonse took the opportunity to take refuge in the corner of the shelter, the one he had c
alled his bed the night before. From his vantage point, he watched as panicked people ran this way and that, knocking over others and trampling them in their rush to save their small, unremarkable lives.

  There were more explosions, and despite the heat blasts and the brief illuminations, he noticed the day had become markedly darker. He decided to brave a quick peek out of the shelter to see if he could witness what was happening above him.

  His timing was perfect.

  The moment he braved his head out of his shelter, a massive globule of melted plastic dripped from one of the burning transports above. It landed squarely on Alphonse’s upturned face. The searing heat of the molten liquid sculpted itself into every crease, every orifice, of his face, mercifully killing the vagrant instantly.

  He joined the ranks of the hundreds, maybe thousands, already lying dead in the street, ignored by others who were still panicking, attempting to save themselves.

  As it turned out, they were all useless gestures.

  The large purple cloud rolling its way towards them would bring instant death; instant destruction to each and every person, every object it came into contact with. It would eat them like it melted the bricks and mortar of the buildings, like it burnt, twisted, disintegrated the landing struts of the overhead Slipstream, collapsing lampposts, evaporating vehicles, annihilating any, and every, form of life.

  As the cloud passed, it left in its wake, utter, and devastating, serenity.

  Paris was gone, devoid of life. All that was left of the ancient, and historic city was dust and emptiness.

  6.

  Tehran City, Iran. 2288

  THE PURPLE CLOUD rolled towards Youssef’s location at an unprecedented velocity. Inside it, he could see flashes of bright purple lightning. The windshield of his vehicle exploded, and he knew if he didn’t get out of here soon, the whole vehicle would blow, or the support struts of the Slipstream would buckle, and he would fall to his death.

  For a moment, all he could do was stand and stare into the cloud. Like a man staring into an abyss, it was beautiful, mesmerising, it called to him. A million different shades of purple rolled over and into each other, enfolding the last in the embrace of the next, as it continued its destructive journey, ever nearer.

  His nosebleed had stopped—he had not registered this, but it had. He lifted up his hand and looked at the smart wrist device he was wearing. The readout was flashing and looked like it was about to malfunction, but he was relieved that it was still working, although for how long, he couldn’t be sure.

  ‘This is Youssef Haseem, code EA, R and D, 5250798. I’m requesting teleportation from my current location. Send me to Orbital Platform One. Please, locate my wife and child and transport them too. Thank you, out.’ As he spoke into his wrist, his eyes locked on what was coming for him, not quite believing what he was seeing.

  It can’t be… was his last thought as another shudder tore through the platform, pushing him towards the rail.

  His form began to flicker, and without any further warning, he blinked into non-existence.

  The cloud rolled ever forward. It engulfed the Slipstream, and his vehicle, maybe twenty seconds later. Everything in the path of the greedy, all-consuming cloud, was gone.

  PART 2

  1.

  YOUSSEF HASEEM MATERIALISED into a cold, clinical room. The dull greys, and the chrome of the walls and floors gave it a functional appearance, and the multiple high-tech displays with various readouts and views of the planet they were orbiting complimented this look.

  This was Orbital Platform One, sixty miles above the Earth’s atmosphere.

  He had materialised into chaos.

  The moment he appeared, a man and a woman were at his side, their faces ashen, scared, and serious. ‘Youssef, what the Hell is going on down there? Do we have any updated information?’

  ‘I can’t update you on anything at this point,’ he panted, slightly out of breath, as he stepped off the platform into the busy room. ‘I haven’t got a clue what’s happening myself. Were my wife and daughter found?’

  ‘I, erm… I don’t know, sir,’ the girl replied.

  Everyone in the large room, except for him, was dressed in a militaristic, blue uniform. All that set the uniforms apart were name badges worn above the left breast and lines of rank on the cuffs of the sleeves.

  Since Earth had put aside its racial differences and religious intolerances, all the countries and cultures had seen that there was more to be done, more to be achieved, by working together rather than against each other. The Earth Alliance Treaty had been formed. This harmony led to fantastical breakthroughs in science and technology. Hunger and poverty had been all but eradicated, and Earth was now very nearly the Utopia many had dreamed about for centuries. Technology and progress had long since become the main priority of the Alliance.

  ‘Can you please find out? I’m going out of my mind with worry about them.’ His voice was hushed, and he was smiling politely.

  ‘Yes, sir, right away,’ she replied, walking off into another melee of gibbering people.

  ‘I’m going to need to bring the council together for an emergency session, can you arrange for France, Germany, Uganda, USA, and Brazil to be patched through to my personal room?’ Youssef asked the man who was following him as he made his way out of the busy control room, removing his jacket.

  ‘I’ll do my best, sir, but there’s crazy congestion at the moment. Too many reports from too many locations,’ his colleague explained.

  ‘OK, well, do what you can, just put someone through to me as soon as possible. We need as much information as we can gather on this,’ he replied

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the man snapped prior to speeding off in the same direction as his female colleague.

  ‘Mr Haseem, your wife and child have been tagged at platform twelve, sir,’ his female colleague gasped as she rushed back into the room.

  ‘Oh, thank the lord Allah,’ he said and crossed his lips and forehead. As he entered his office, he put his coat over the chair behind his desk and slipped on his uniform jacket. ‘Do we have any idea what’s going on, or how bad it is?’

  ‘Not yet, sir! The congestion seems to be halving our communication abilities.’ She stopped and looked at him, her face falling into a sombre expression. ‘We do know that it’s big, sir. And it looks bad.’

  Youssef sighed, resting his hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘Understood,’ he nodded solemnly. ‘Get as many of the council members patched through to my office as possible, please.’

  The young officer offered him a resigned smile and turned away.

  ‘Amanda, as soon as you can, please,’ he added in a soothing, but authoritative, voice before she left.

  2.

  Inverness, Scotland. 2288

  THE DRIVING RAIN was assaulting the ancient bricks of the building. The sky was dark, brooding, and turbulent.

  This was nothing new for Inverness.

  The heritage that was the castle, built in 1836 on the banks of the River Ness, was illuminated from the darkness that the current storm had brought. Huge, upwards facing lights, well hidden in the moat, illuminated the great castle, offering a grandiose look, emphasising its many beautiful, original, features.

  A crowd of cold, wet, and scared people had gathered in the grounds, occasionally sending small, petrified, glances skywards, as if expecting sudden death to fall on them.

  The large screens dotted around the town were playing, non-stop footage, of the events that had been reported via satellite from various locations around the globe. Each of them depicted footage of a rolling, purple, cloud making its way across the various locations. The footage highlighted the complete, and utter, devastation left in its wake.

  The people were scared, but they were sure of one thing: the group, the custodians of this historic castle, would be able to give them succour, support, and possibly even safety.

  ~~~~

  In contrast to the ancient external veneer of the castle, the i
nterior was a marvel of technology and industry. The outside had not changed much in the four hundred years since it had been built. The original brickwork and battlements were still in place, as was the drawbridge that opened over the, now drained and illuminated, moat.

  The current interior, however, would have been incomprehensible to the original architects. The courtyards had been built over, and most of the walls and rooms had been knocked through. In place of the maze of musty old corridors, and banquet rooms, there was now a single expansive, open-plan room, illuminated by a bright blue light.

  Inside, the enormous room was a hive of activity and technology.

  Hundreds of people were bustling about, most of them working between different stations dotted here and there. Large screens were located on the walls, streaming footage of different locations around the globe. Others were displaying images and schematics of the twenty-five Orbital Platforms stationed above the planet.

  Suspended from the ceiling was an impressive hologram depicting an orange circle intersected with small, jagged, lines of purple.

  This was the logo of The Quest.

  The Quest was a pseudo-religious organisation of like-minded people who derived their doctrine from their quest to investigate and expose what was fake in a world dominated by the Earth Alliance. They worshipped freedom above all else. Freedom to exert their own control over their own people. They knew that was essentially a paradox, but they revelled in it.