Lacuna: The Ashes of Humanity Read Free Page B

instincts told him to get out, exchange contact information with the occupants of the car he'd just rear-ended, then call his insurance company. But the bright flash of light was something else, something almost every Human knew. The Toralii worldshatter devices. They were here. The demons.
    That was why the Beijing was in the atmosphere. Why this massive dust storm had sprung up out of nowhere. He put the car into reverse, spun the wheel and then went around. The car's bumper bar dragged on the road and the electric engine made a pained groan as he accelerated. For a moment, he thought it would give out, but soon the car was back at speed.
    "Collision detected," came the unnaturally calm female voice from the car's stereo system. "Please remain calm, emergency services have been alerted."
    He ignored it, as he did the other lights on the dashboard. Overheat warning. Autodrive inoperable. Seatbelt undone.
    "Are those people okay?" asked Olivia, her voice filled with panic.
    "They're fine, honey. They're fine. Keep an eye out for more cars."
    Christian drove off an exit ramp towards Reliant Stadium. He could hear sirens, and other cars, all converging on this one point. He was not alone in his thinking. The traffic picked up as he drew close; he parked the car near the entranceway, abandoning it without a second thought.
    The dust picked up, as did the temperature. It was as though someone had opened an oven; a hot air rolling in from the west, dry and full of sand, blowing at the back of his head. He kept his sleeve over his mouth as he half carried, half-dragged Olivia towards the entrance to the huge stadium.
    Right as he did the colossal ship, one he knew as the TFR Beijing , slammed down into the ground barely three hundred feet in front of him, still glowing hot from its passage through the atmosphere.
    The wind and the heat were momentarily in his face. The blast blew him onto his back. Olivia shrieked, a sound almost drowned out by the falling debris and groan of settling metal.
    "Olivia! Olivia!"
    "I'm here, Dad!" She was still standing, offering him her tiny arms.
    He took her hand but barely used it, instead pushing off with his other arm. He stared, wide eyed, at the wall of metal higher than the stadium walls.
    The Beijing had come down parallel to the oval, the bow of the ship completely crushing the concourse lounge. The middle of the ship must have been in the central playing field; that must be why they had landed there, to have such an opening.
    "Come on," he said to Olivia. He knew this stadium well; the Coca-Cola entrance would lead them to the central area, if it wasn't destroyed. He made for the fire stairs, but already all around him, cars pulled up and disgorged people. It was going to get crowded fast.
    The fire stairs door was locked from the other side. He cursed loudly; this had cost him time. He tried forcing it open with his shoulder, then a few well-placed kicks to the handle, but it held fast. Nearby a crowd of people were swarming through the gates, the automated ticket system complaining endlessly, but nobody paid it any heed.
    "Hold my hand; hold it really tight. We have to go through there."
    Olivia looked distinctly unhappy at that prospect, but she gripped his hand tightly. "I got you, Dad."
    Christian merged with the crowd, pulling Olivia along behind him, moving with the throng. Everyone was talking at once, calling the names of friends and family or trying to call them on cell phones that no longer worked. People cried out names, warnings, shouts of encouragement.
    The lights of the Beijing lit up the stadium brighter than any game lights. The airlocks opened, and armed soldiers in spacesuits funnelled the crowd aboard, barely able to control the panic.
    "Children first!" shouted one of the space-suited people, a female voice with an Asian accent, amplified by some unseen source. Nobody paid any attention to her, so she raised her rifle in the air and discharged several shots. The