IMMOLATION: CHAPTER 56

Papers lay scattered across Matt's desk. A solitary lamp hung overhead, swaying slightly each time the ground quaked. Matt tried not to think about what each shock wave meant, and the fact that they were becoming stronger and more frequent. Still, it wasn't any more terrifying than the tight, handwritten scrawl that covered each page. He was all too familiar with that handwriting on the papers before him and Matt shook his head in horror. Nuclear power plant designs, oil refineries, and schematics for explosives were just a few of the things Matt had found in Dr. Muto's office.

The door opened behind Matt and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as footsteps, muffled ever so slightly by the thin carpet, heralded the approach.

“How could you?” Matt asked in a low whisper.

The footsteps stopped just to his side and Matt looked up at Dr. Muto's shadowed face. Dr. Muto looked to the mess on the desk and then back to Matt, acting as though he had not heard Matt and collected up the papers.

“What were you looking for?” Dr. Muto's tone was conversational, if a bit stiff.

“What do you think?” Matt asked.

“I really couldn't tell, considering what you've laid out for yourself.”

“The plans, Muto, I was looking for the plans.”

“And it would appear as though you've found them.”

“The plans for the heat Machine,” Matt corrected. “It might not be too late, we could still stop the world from destroying itself.”

Dr. Muto chuckled.

“What's so funny?” Matt demanded, incensed at Dr. Muto's apparent lack of concern.

“What do you think all of this was for?” Dr. Muto asked, waving the papers in front of Matt. “Our world was dying.”

Matt jumped to his feet. “And now you've gone and killed it!”

“It's people, perhaps,” Dr. Muto said dismissively, putting the papers back into their respective folders and drawers. “But I've come to accept the fact that the human race is determined to destroy itself, no matter how hard you or I try to save it.”

“Then can't we at least postpone that end?” Matt pleaded.

“How?”

“Share the plans to the Heat Machine!”

“NO!” Dr. Muto shouted, forcing Matt back down into his seat. “Do you think that will change anything now? Can they build one? Do they have the resources? The man power? The time? I doubt any of these so called armies even have a plan to get back to their own countries.”

“Dr. Muto—”

“No,” Dr. Muto cut Matt off, “The fighting going on out there has long ago stopped being about energy. Their only goal is destruction now.”

“Well, now that I have this,” Matt said, holding up a small thumb drive, “we can see which of us is right.”

Matt got back out of his chair and pushed passed a stunned Dr. Muto.

“Where did you get that drive?” Dr. Muto asked breathlessly.

Matt paused in the doorway. “I hacked into your computer about a week ago,” he said unabashedly, “and at first I was frustrated that I still couldn't find the plans. Then I found this in your desk,” Matt held up the unremarkable thumb drive. “I still haven't been able to break the encryption on it, but I'm all but certain this is it. Any way, I'm going to hand it over to them and let them figure it out.”

Dr. Muto screamed and lashed out, his cries were wild and bestial as he clawed at Matt, trying to get the thumb drive away from him. For a moment, all Matt could think to do was hold the drive out of Dr. Muto's reach. The crazed ferocity was something Matt had only seen once before; when Dr. Muto attacked him during his thesis defense. Matt buried his fist into Dr. Muto's stomach, doubling him over, and followed it up with a right cross that snapped his head to the side with a crack and Dr. Muto crumpled to the floor where he lay motionless.

Matt hurried out of the office and down the hall. He didn't care if he'd overdone it on Dr. Muto. Either way, if things went according to plan, Matt wouldn't be seeing his old mentor again. It didn't take long for Matt to make his way to the observation room and he took his customary position at the main computer.

“Everyone out,” Matt ordered as soon as he was logged in. “Now!”

There were looks of confusion and concern on their faces as the technicians left, but Matt ignored them. Like Dr. Muto, Matt wouldn't be seeing them again. The moment the door was shut, Matt began disabling the security systems, turning off the cameras, and deactivating the security doors. Finally he pressed the button that unlocked the door to the Heat Machine. All he had to do now was go in there and lift the latch and the door would swing open. A minute later he was standing in front of the Heat Machine itself. There was no way to communicate with Joan and let her know what he was doing.

“I'm sorry for everything, Joan,” Matt whispered.

He raised the latch and unbearable heat poured out, forcing Matt backwards and he realized this may not have been the best way to go about freeing Joan.

*

Numbness held Joan in its gentle embrace, rocking her back and forth and keeping her safe from all that would destroy her. Her fire helped, too, in keeping back the walls and the darkness, for in the darkness the walls could move. In her fire she could grow flowers, blossoming and blooming at her every whim.

Awake or asleep, Joan burned. She couldn't remember a time when she didn't burn, as though the thought of not burning was something foreign and absurd. Every once in a while, in her dreams, she visited a time and a place where she burned less, or not at all. It was a wondrous place of such unimaginable joy that she often awoke from those dreams crying. So many faces and names that she could never quite remember once she was awake. The flowers in the fire were her attempt to bring some of the dream into her waking moments

“Joan,” a phantom voice carried over the rushing of her fire.

Such things were not uncommon for Joan. Voices from her dreams often carried over into her waking thoughts, though this voice was one that she was less familiar with.

“...my fault...won't blame you...free...”

Joan frowned. The voice was growing stronger, louder, perhaps even a bit desperate.

“Who are you?” Joan asked the voice.

The voice changed and this new voice answered with a nonsense name. “It's Tom,” the voice spoke so clearly that Joan could have sworn he was standing only a short distance away. “Please don't burn me!”

It was at that moment that Joan became aware of a draft in the air around her. She dimmed her fire enough for her to see beyond it. The shock of seeing the door to her room open robbed her of her strength and she fell to the floor.

Someone stood outside of her cell, backed all the way up against the far wall, nothing more than a shadowy figure to Joan's eyes.

“Please Joan,” the first voice shouted, “I want to help you, don't burn me.”

Joan overcame her shock and got back to her feet, scrambling to get out of her cell. The cool touch of the stone beneath her feet felt good and the air smelled remarkably fresh when compared to the stuffy, processed air that was pumped into the Heat Machine.

Joan hated how cold the floors were in the morning. Her parents never listened to her when she suggested they get heated floors, or carpet, or at the very least some rugs. It would certainly make getting up in the mornings easier.

“Joan, hurry up,” her mother called from the kitchen.

Joan sighed and hurried down the hallway to the kitchen. Her mother stood in front of the stove, frying some eggs and bacon. A stack of pancakes already lay on a plate on the counter.

“Thanks mom,” Joan purred, “It smells delicious.”

“Joan, it's burning,” her mother said, though the voice was not her own and it was etched with fear. “Stop it Joan, stop it!”

“JOAN!” the second voice, Tom, shouted and Joan found herself back in the enclosure, the silhouetted person still leaning against the far wall. Whoever it was, they did not move away as Joan walked closer.

“Tom, is that you?” Joan asked, still not sure who Tom was, and she squinted through her fire trying to see more than just his basic form.

She continued to step closer but her fire, dimmed though it was, still prevented her from getting a clear view. At last she was close enough that she reached out her hand to touch him. Immediately he crumbled into a pile of bones and dust.

An image from her forgotten past jolted into her mind and she saw a man, Tom, curled on the ground before her, writhing in pain as he burned within her fire. No other memory about who Tom was came to her, just the image.

Fear and anger gripped Joan and she burned white hot. Who was this? Was this the real Tom? Was this someone else? From the looks of it, whoever he had been, he'd died trying to open the door. The door had expanded and jammed in heat before he could get the door open. The ground around Joan began to melt along with the rest of the door.

A thunderous crack rang out and the glass from the observation room above shattered, sending a cascade of glass shards down onto Joan. Her fire caught most of the shards, vaporizing them before they could reach the ground and the rest scattered far enough away that her fire didn't heat them too much before they tinkled to the ground. Once the last of the glass hit the floor, Joan cleared the fire away from her face to give her a better view of what was happening. The walls were ablaze, the concrete was crumbling, and everything made of glass was either shattering or else melting. High above her, the skylights of her enclosure began to warp in the heat.

Joan screamed in joy and shot a bolt of fire straight upward. Glass exploded and then vaporized and the whole enclosure was filled with sunlight. For the first time that she could remember, a warm breeze that wasn't from her fire blew around her, blowing her hair about and stirring the flames in the room. Ash and smoke billowed out and the fire burst forth with renewed vigor.

“Hurry up Joan,” her friend called after her, “or all the cute guys will be taken.”

Joan tossed back her head and laughed for joy, following after her friend, though she couldn't quite remember her name.

They ran through the close trees of the woods near their home where they'd agreed to meet the others. They were going to have a bonfire. From the smell of smoke in the air, Joan guessed they'd already got the fire started. The trees grew closer and closer together until they lined the path like walls and their boughs formed a sort of ceiling, blocking out the starlight and moonlight.

“I can't see where we're going,” Joan called happily to her friend who ran in front of her.

No response and the darkness grew more foreboding.

“Hey, are you there?” Joan couldn't hear her friend's footsteps anymore.

Still no answer.

The darkness became complete and the walls began to move.

“NO!” Joan shrieked and her fire burst back into life.

The forest was gone, replaced instead by an unfamiliar corridor. Her fire pushed the walls back to where they belonged and Joan shivered for a time, uncertain about what to do.

The ground shook.