Read Online Archon of the Covenant by David Hanrahan - Free Book Online
Authors: David Hanrahan
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splinter off – a smaller group darting off suddenly and into a subdivision or a large estate away from the road. The sentinel followed each of these broken trails, only to lead back to the main road. In one house, in Telesis Terrace, the sentinel found a family laid still in the master bedroom. They were dressed in church clothing, holding hands, eyes closed. Serene. The door had been forced open and revin footsteps circled the bodies, which were undisturbed. Excrement and urine filled the corners of the room. The revins had sat in this room, possibly for days, approaching the bodies then turning away. A medical doctorate diploma hung on the wall. The sentinel scanned the air and plucked the hand of the father. The bodies were full of formaldehyde and trace propofol. A German Shepherd, stuffed and preserved, was propped in the corner of the room, posed and staring into the entrance of the room.
Further down the road, the highway split off into Tanque Verde Road and the sentinel followed it, going deeper into the city. The houses were smaller and closer together, separated at times by a baseball field, a Safeway, or the Pantano Wash, which split the ten-lane road. Many of the buildings were boarded up, barricaded, and sandbagged. Some were burned to the ground. Some were untouched. They belied a city that had devolved into chaos and confusion. The silence of the ruined city contrasted with the deepening scene of memory lost – a trail of tumult and blood like wax cast from a dying candle. Graythorn and saltbush engulfed the remnants of a gas station.
Past Grant Road, the sentinel came upon Trail Dust Town – a Wild West theme park. A caricature façade of old saloons, rail stations, and banks, set away from the road, greeted families and visitors wanting to relive an earlier era. The evening sun, the amber and violet borealis, washed over the firmament and cast a shadow on the sentinel, which looked into one of the theme park buildings at an array of mannequins dressed in western garb. A showgirl in corset and petticoat. A marshal in suspenders and cotton trousers. And a dandy in duster and Dorchester. Another mannequin, undressed, was behind them in the shadows, looking out at the road. Its eyes fixed into the distance. It faded into the dark of the room and looked into the solitary optic lens of the sentinel. Then it was gone.
DDC39 rolled back slightly into the entrance of the park and pinged the periphery. There was no motion detected nearby and there was no thermal signature. There was a revin in the darkness of the display window, but the sentinel couldn’t detect it. Something was wrong.
The sentinel scanned around the adjoining buildings – the darkened plank boards and faux fronts, speckled in faded gold trim. The eventide lay wreaths of shadowlight through the park, shifting through the dust with the swaying sycamores. Something was interfering with the sentinel’s radar and detection array. It was operating on visual optics and closed-circuit network alone. Its audio flickered, picking up intermittent sounds – rustling of the trees, a cricket chirping, and the shuffling of feet.
The naked revin exploded from an alley to the left of the sentinel, crashing headlong into its frame, gnashing at its optical array and prying at its edges. The sentinel sped forward and slammed to a halt, throwing the revin into a hitching rail before the saloon. The revin crashed violently backwards, the rail bending back in the collision, snapping with the revin as it went legs up and landing on its head in the dirt. It righted itself quickly, unfazed by the crash. It stood there panting, glaring back at the sentinel. In the fading light, DDC39 saw it now in full view. It was sunburnt to a leathery and wrinkled sienna. Its knees festered, the skin unfurling, bone cap showing through. It snarled and bent forward. A splintered wood spire from the post stuck out from its side but bled very little – the
Further down the road, the highway split off into Tanque Verde Road and the sentinel followed it, going deeper into the city. The houses were smaller and closer together, separated at times by a baseball field, a Safeway, or the Pantano Wash, which split the ten-lane road. Many of the buildings were boarded up, barricaded, and sandbagged. Some were burned to the ground. Some were untouched. They belied a city that had devolved into chaos and confusion. The silence of the ruined city contrasted with the deepening scene of memory lost – a trail of tumult and blood like wax cast from a dying candle. Graythorn and saltbush engulfed the remnants of a gas station.
Past Grant Road, the sentinel came upon Trail Dust Town – a Wild West theme park. A caricature façade of old saloons, rail stations, and banks, set away from the road, greeted families and visitors wanting to relive an earlier era. The evening sun, the amber and violet borealis, washed over the firmament and cast a shadow on the sentinel, which looked into one of the theme park buildings at an array of mannequins dressed in western garb. A showgirl in corset and petticoat. A marshal in suspenders and cotton trousers. And a dandy in duster and Dorchester. Another mannequin, undressed, was behind them in the shadows, looking out at the road. Its eyes fixed into the distance. It faded into the dark of the room and looked into the solitary optic lens of the sentinel. Then it was gone.
DDC39 rolled back slightly into the entrance of the park and pinged the periphery. There was no motion detected nearby and there was no thermal signature. There was a revin in the darkness of the display window, but the sentinel couldn’t detect it. Something was wrong.
The sentinel scanned around the adjoining buildings – the darkened plank boards and faux fronts, speckled in faded gold trim. The eventide lay wreaths of shadowlight through the park, shifting through the dust with the swaying sycamores. Something was interfering with the sentinel’s radar and detection array. It was operating on visual optics and closed-circuit network alone. Its audio flickered, picking up intermittent sounds – rustling of the trees, a cricket chirping, and the shuffling of feet.
The naked revin exploded from an alley to the left of the sentinel, crashing headlong into its frame, gnashing at its optical array and prying at its edges. The sentinel sped forward and slammed to a halt, throwing the revin into a hitching rail before the saloon. The revin crashed violently backwards, the rail bending back in the collision, snapping with the revin as it went legs up and landing on its head in the dirt. It righted itself quickly, unfazed by the crash. It stood there panting, glaring back at the sentinel. In the fading light, DDC39 saw it now in full view. It was sunburnt to a leathery and wrinkled sienna. Its knees festered, the skin unfurling, bone cap showing through. It snarled and bent forward. A splintered wood spire from the post stuck out from its side but bled very little – the
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