[Author’s Note: This is the first scene of the novel, and although it doesn’t concern the main characters, I hope it conveys the feel of the entire story.]
Ralph Banning, anchorman extraordinaire, out in the field.
“Good morning, this is Ralph Banning,” the devilishly handsome anchorman declaimed towards camera. “Today, we’re underground at the Rhone Laboratory, and we’re only minutes away from breaching the chamber where the Device resides.”
He paused, and the camera took in his magnificent profile before drawing back to feast on his muscular physique and the devilish sartorial splendour of his suit.
“Yes, today we create history,” he proclaimed as the camera zoomed back in for a close-up. “For not only am I bringing you the news, I am making it!”
The audience cheered, and he felt his heart swell with pride. He gestured towards the imposing steel portal behind him.
“Yes, I have come to a place that no one else was capable of reaching,” he declared. “The world shall shortly be delivered from the tyranny of the Oddness effect!”
“Tell us what the weather’s like, Ralph!” came a single shout in place of the tumultuous cheer that he’d been expecting.
He hesitated, unsure where this heckler had sprung from, but heroically managed to keep his composure despite the adversity.
“Now, I shall open the door,” he orated, “and save humanity!”
The audience erupted into fresh cheers, and he felt their adulation push him effortlessly towards the massive steel edifice. Before his hand even reached the metal, it swung noiselessly open, revealing a huge, brightly lit room full of glittering, incomprehensible machinery. In the precise centre of this vast laboratory sat a huge device. It was partially obscured behind billowing, white clouds, but was easily five metres tall.
“Can you see it?” he whispered dramatically. “The devilish creation that is the cause of the madness.”
There was a hiss as the whole audience drew in their breath at once.
“Now,” he started, but was interrupted by sudden movement to his right.
“Look out, Ralph!” someone cried from the audience in horror. A creature, which might even have once been a man, bared its teeth and lumbered towards the anchorman.
He didn’t miss a beat. Flicking aside his lapel, he pulled out an oversized revolver, levelled it at the creature, and pulverised its head with a single shot.
“Behind you!” came another panicked voice.
With his other hand, he drew out the sword at his waist, and with a single stroke, split the second creature in twain. The audience erupted afresh, but Ralph knew the danger wasn’t over yet. More creatures were coming from all corners of the room, and suddenly it looked hopeless. Rolling his shoulders, he gallantly squared up to face his foes. One after another, they rushed towards him, but each was taken down by his skilful swordplay or the shots which invariably hit their mark. Not even breaking into a sweat, Ralph pressed through the attacking masses, sights set on the red button on the side of the Device. No one else could have done this, he assured himself; he truly was a unique talent.
With his hand poised over the emergency stop switch, he hesitated. There was an abrupt change in the air, and a pervading sense of wrongness surrounded him. His self-assurance fled, and in a panic, he thumped his hand against the red button as hard as he could. Nothing happened. He tried again, but still nothing. The audience started to jeer and laughter rang out.
“What we’d like to know, Ralph,” came a voice. “Is what exactly do your viewers want to know?”
“I want to know what Ralph’s done!” shouted someone.
The anchorman looked around in confusion, and then in horror, for the creatures he had vanquished were climbing back onto their feet. Then they started streaming towards him.
“No,” he cried.
But it was too late. They were on him in an instant, and he was pulled to the ground by a dozen awful hands. He felt them tearing off his clothes and digging into his flesh. He closed his eyes, but their fingers were on his face, and then…
Ralph woke up, the scream still ringing in his ears and issuing rawly from his throat. In the darkness, he reached to the bedside table, and his hand unerringly picked up the revolver that he knew would be there. Without thought, he raised it and put the barrel into his mouth, his perfect teeth biting down on the unyielding metal. His finger squeezed the trigger, but there was just a dry click. He tried again, and again, but it never ended. He was still within the nightmare, and the tears rolled down his face.
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