Chapter 2: The Awakening

Chapter 2: The Awakening

Garlic and herb scented smoke reached up from the grill as the hamburgers and hot dogs sizzled. Fire licked, and hissed, turning the coals a cherry red. The fat from the burgers dripped down, causing small flares that danced like tiny spirits before vanishing. I didn't consider myself much of a griller, but I had built the deck, and I figured I may as well enjoy it. The cedar boards beneath my feet were worn smooth from three summers of bare feet, spilled drinks, and backyard gatherings.

"Hey, you're not burning them this time," Lynn teased, sliding up beside me with a cold beer in her hand. She pressed it against my arm before giving it to me, making me flinch from the sudden chill.

"That was one time," I protested, taking a swig. "And it was Jackson's fault for making me check his skateboard trick right when the timer went off."

She laughed, the sound as light as wind chimes. "Sure, blame the eight-year-old."

A burst of wind picked up one of the children's toys, smashing it into the white picket fence, sending chips of paint to the grass below. I scowled, knowing I would have to fix that later. Another item for my never-ending list of home repairs. The plastic action figure lay face down in the grass, one arm broken off from the impact.

"That was strange," Lynn said, looking toward the sky.

The clouds overhead moved unnaturally fast, gray and ominous despite the weather report promising clear skies all weekend. Their shapes twisted, almost serpentine, before straightening out again.

West Virginia did experience wind, but that was strongest during the winter months. I shrugged, preparing the food, flipping the burgers with practiced precision. The sky continued to darken above us, but no rain fell. Perhaps it would pass us by.

"Did you see that?" Lynn asked, pointing toward the hills beyond our neighborhood.

I followed her gesture but saw nothing unusual. "What was it?"

"I don't know. A flash, like lightning, but..." she hesitated. "Purple? Must have been a reflection or something."

I nodded, though something about the certainty in her voice made me uneasy. Lynn wasn't one for exaggeration or seeing things. If she said she saw a purple flash, she probably had.

"Food's ready!" I called out, arranging the perfectly grilled burgers and hot dogs on a platter. Jackson and Elisa came running, their faces flushed from play, little beads of sweat on their foreheads.

"Can I have two hot dogs?" Jackson asked, his eyes hopeful.

"Only if you eat all your veggies," Lynn answered before I could, giving me a pointed look. I was the softer parent, more likely to give in to their requests without conditions.

"What about ice cream after?" Elisa asked, her small fingers already reaching for a burger that was nearly as big as her face.

"We'll see," I said, my standard noncommittal response. It almost always meant yes, and they knew it. Lynn rolled her eyes, but her smile never faltered.

Later, the kids roamed about, playing in the yard, the sun setting the sky aflame with its passing. The western horizon blazed in oranges and reds so intense they seemed almost solid. Lynn was lounging on the patio chair, radiant, the picture of light. Her golden hair caught the sunset's glow, making it appear as if she wore a crown of fire. A passing cloud overhead overlaid her with grey, seemingly going to war with her radiance.

The shadow lingered longer than it should have.

"Varus," she called, her voice soft but urgent. "Look at the clouds."

I turned my attention upward. The clouds had formed unusual patterns, swirling in tight, concentric circles directly above our neighborhood. At their center, the darkest point, there appeared to be a faint shimmer, like heat rising from hot asphalt.

"Probably just a weird weather system," I said, though I'd never seen anything like it. A faint prickling sensation traveled up my spine, similar to the feeling right before a lightning strike.

"Maybe we should head inside," Lynn suggested, already gathering the remnants of our meal.

I nodded, calling to the children. They protested briefly, as children do when play is interrupted, but another strange gust of wind, this one carrying an odd metallic scent, convinced them to follow us inside without further complaint.

The end of another beautiful day I would forget about for a long time. Some things became more important. Some things change you so fundamentally that memories before them seem to belong to someone else entirely.

Throughout the evening, the odd weather persisted. The television signal cut out several times, static replacing the crime show we half-watched. Our cell phones lost reception periodically, and the lights flickered with increasing frequency.

"Something's weird with the power grid," I muttered, checking the breaker box and finding everything in order. Outside, the streetlights pulsed erratically, casting strange shadows through our curtains.

Elisa complained of a headache and went to bed early. Jackson followed soon after, unusually subdued. Even Rufus, our normally adventurous cat, had wedged himself under the couch and refused to come out despite Lynn's offers of treats.

Later that night as we settled in for bed, the lights flickered again, more pronounced this time. They dimmed, brightened to an almost painful intensity, then dimmed again before stabilizing.

"I'll check on it tomorrow. Probably a fuse or something," I said. I was no sparky, knowing what brooms were, I was reasonably certain I couldn't ever be one, but I had picked up a thing or two about home electrical systems over the years.

Lynn nodded as she flipped a page in her book, though I noticed her eyes weren't moving across the words. She was distracted, listening to the strange sounds coming from outside. A constant low hum, just at the edge of hearing, had started about an hour ago. It wasn't mechanical or electrical, more like the sustained note of some massive, invisible instrument.

"Do you hear that?" she finally asked, setting her book down.

I had been trying to ignore it, to convince myself it was just the refrigerator or the air conditioning system. "Yeah," I admitted. "Not sure what it is."

She moved to the window and peered out between the curtains. "The Millers' lights are out," she said, referring to our neighbors across the street. "So are the Hendersons' and the Patels'."

I joined her at the window. The entire neighborhood was dark except for our house and two others. The streetlights had gone out completely.

"Maybe we should call someone," Lynn suggested, already reaching for her phone. "The power company, or..."

"No signal," she said after a moment, showing me the screen. No bars, and a strange symbol where the carrier name should be, a small, pulsing dot I'd never seen before.

"Let's just get some sleep," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Everything will probably be back to normal in the morning."

She didn't look convinced but returned to bed. We lay there in silence, neither of us sleeping, both listening to the hum that seemed to be gradually increasing in pitch. The digital clock on our nightstand flickered occasionally, the numbers scrambling before resetting themselves.

After a while, we turned off the lights, sleep eventually overtaking me despite the unease. My dreams were strange, filled with crimson light and whispering voices speaking words I couldn't understand but somehow recognized.

I awoke as a tremble of thunder and force shook the house. The entire structure swayed, wood creaking in protest. Pictures fell from walls, glass shattering against the hardwood floors. Our bed actually shifted several inches across the room.

Lynn bolted up as the house settled, clutching the blankets to her chest. I was already on my feet, moving toward the door, my heart hammering.

"I'll check on the kids," I told her, trying to keep my voice steady.

"What was that, an earthquake?" Her face was pale in the strange light now filtering through our bedroom window, a pulsing, bluish glow that came from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Maybe," I said, though no earthquake would produce light like that. The air felt thick, charged with something I couldn't name. The hairs on my arms stood on end, and I could taste metal on my tongue.

I stepped into the hallway and froze. Floating in the air before me, glowing text appeared, as real and solid as if it had been painted there, yet clearly not physical:

Flux Resonance Awakening planet known as "Earth" please standby... Spawning Flux beasts, enhancing existing wildlife. Flux Zones being created. Dungeons being seeded. Standby...

The words hung there for several seconds before dissolving into particles of light that scattered and vanished. I blinked, convinced I was still dreaming, but the afterimage remained burned into my vision.

"Varus?" Lynn called from the bedroom. "What is it?"

Before I could answer, the house shook again, more violently this time. A crack appeared in the hallway ceiling, running from one end to the other like a lightning bolt. Plaster dust rained down, coating my hair and shoulders.

I rushed to the children's rooms, throwing open Jackson's door first. He was sitting up in bed, eyes wide with fear, clutching his comforter.

"Dad? What's happening?" His voice trembled.

"I don't know, buddy. Come with me, we need to find your sister."

I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward Elisa's room across the hall. Her door was already open, but her bed was empty.

"Elisa?" I called, panic rising in my throat. "Elisa, where are you?"

A small whimper came from under the bed. I dropped to my knees, finding her curled into a tight ball, tears streaming down her face.

"Monkey, come out. We need to go."

"The monsters," she whispered. "They're coming."

My blood ran cold. "What monsters, honey?"

Instead of answering, she pointed to her window. I rose and looked out, my breath catching in my throat.

In the street below, illuminated by that same strange blue light, stood a creature that should not exist. It resembled a wolf, but was easily the size of a small car, with multiple tails that ended in barbed tips. Its fur seemed to shift between solid and transparent, and its eyes glowed the same crimson I had seen in my dreams.

As I watched, frozen in horror, it turned its massive head toward our house. Toward Elisa's window. Its jaws opened, revealing rows of teeth that glinted like polished obsidian, and it let out a howl that shook the glass.

More shapes moved in the darkness beyond it, different sizes, different forms, but all sharing that same wrongness, that same impossible existence.

I snatched Elisa from under the bed and grabbed Jackson's hand again. "We need to find Mom. Now."

We rushed back to our bedroom to find Lynn standing in the middle of the room, staring at her hands. They were glowing faintly, a soft golden light pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

"Varus," she whispered, looking up at me with terror in her eyes. "What's happening to me?"

Before I could respond, a tremendous crash came from downstairs, the sound of our front door being torn from its hinges. Heavy footsteps followed, too many and too irregular to be human.

From outside came more howls, joined now by screams. Our neighbors. People we knew. People we cared about.

Then the sorrow began.