The Dome

However, over the last couple of months, the constant sight of anti-tech priests preaching salvation from the street corners had blunted his amazement at mass ignornace. Keegan’s hand stole under his pillow in search of the hand cannon he’d hidden there earlier….

ColGen Ikarus, a once respected war hero, a man who had boasted that once in the prime of his life he had taken an enemy soldier’s skull and crushed it in his bare hands, was now little more than a poorly animated shell of a man. A stroke early on in his military retirement had lost him the function of most of one side of his body, and had caused the left side of his face to droop, fixing a slightly quizzical expression onto his face, making him appear as though something was permanently puzzling him. The rigours of age and time had worn him, now he barely resembled the bronzed giant that had so enlivened the ladies and embittered his enemies. Church Master Kaine, a nefarious cult leader sat opposite ColGen Ikarus, reflecting upon his good fortune. Kaine had found that not only was Ikarus’s body stunted, but his wits too. This had made Kaine’s task even easier than the One true God "Rük’la" had foreseen. It had only been too easy for Kaine, to convince ColGen Ikarus to reduce the funding for the maintenance of the dome, and to transfer the saved monies across to subsidise Kaine’s religious operations. Kaine, savoured the irony of it in his mind, that the money that was to be spent on developing vile and corrupting technologies was now going to be spent on saving souls, through religious education and enlightenment.

Kaine rose from the table, gathering his velvet cloak around his shoulders as he did so. "Farewell honourable ColGen, and pray you do not forget of the business we have conducted here today" spoke Kaine, injecting as much deference as possible into his words. He needn’t have bothered. The GolGen grunted in acknowledgment, his mind elsewhere, his pale eyes staring blindly into space. Kaine strode rapidly for the door, his cloak billowing majestically behind him, he still had much do to before his tasks were completed. The problem posed by departmental chief Keegan was still unresolved.

Keegan lay motionless his eyes closed in a pretence at sleep, a pretence betrayed by the tight compression of his lips, and the beads of sweat running down his forehead. Tensely he waited for his bedroom door to open, his hands wrapped tightly around the hand cannon, a finger resting uneasily on the weapon’s trigger. The door creaked slowly, stealthily open. With eyes still clenched tightly closed Keegan opened fire, the roar of the hand cannon deafening in the small confines of his bedroom.

Keegan opened his eyes expecting to see a bloodied body. Instead a ghastly creature stood in his doorway, towering over him. A carnivorous leer revealed 10 inch razor sharp fangs. A smell reminiscent of offal wafted into the room. Stepping into his room, distended belly wobbling hideously, the creature reached out a hand bristling with clawed weaponry towards Keegan, the muscles and cords in its long ape like arm rippling sickeningly. Keagan fired repeatedly, fruitlessly expending his ammunition. The creature kept coming.

Keegan, tossing his bed sheets aside, leapt out of his bedroom’s window and down onto the street beyond. Landing on his feet, he staggered than fell to his knees. Dazed he struggled to his feet. A glance back into his bedroom revealed no sign of the monstrosity. The sound of screeching tires diverted his attention back to the roadway.