Chapter I - The End of Civilization

Renald Fernald looked out his fifth-floor office window at the gray, rainy day before him. In the distance lay a sprawling cityscape of robust skyscrapers, shoebox apartment complexes, verdant parks, and reticular highways looping and stretching as far as the eye could see. What a sight it was to behold - mid-21st-century America.

"Daydreaming again?" a female voice behind Renald asked. It was Abby Wingate, the office manager.

"Of course. Isn't that the point of work?" Renald replied.

"Very funny. Take these deeds down to City Hall and have them recorded. Here is a check for the processing fees."

"Aye, captain," Renald retorted with a faux salute.

Renald descended the drab stairwell and began his mile-long walk. Fortunately, City Hall wasn't far from the real estate office at which Renald worked as a low-level clerk, especially since he took the bus up every morning. Despite the orderly appearance of the civilized milieu in which he lived and worked, Renald detested the oily smell of the streets and the chronic danger posed by drivers who couldn't be bothered to watch for pedestrians as they rounded the clustered corners of nearby streets.

"Freaking rat race," Renald grunted as he jumped off the street to avoid being creamed by a vintage Ford Leo.

After avoiding numerous run-ins with impatient drivers, oblivious pedestrians, and several vagabonds pleading for spare change, Renald made his way over to the vaulted City Hall building that loomed like a regal clock tower from Victorian London. As he ascended City Hall's old, marble steps, he couldn't help but feel like this was the kind of place at which he would be most comfortable working - hidden away from the world behind papers, books, and fireproof walls. When he reached the Land Recording Office, Renald found no one else in line except for a stooped, elderly man who was already being served by an attractive, 30-something woman. A robust, balding man approached the counter to aid his female counterpart.

"How can I help you, sir?" the man asked Renald.

"Hi. I just want to record these Deeds of Sale, please." Most City Hall people don't care to mince words anyway, so he might as well get straight to the point.

Renald handed over the deeds to the clerk and looked around at the old land drawings on the walls in order to avoid eye contact with anyone else in the room. Just as the clerk slid the first deed under a printer for recording, all of the lights in City Hall simultaneously flickered out, rendering the building and its electronic machines completely useless.

"That's odd," the male clerk mumbled. "Looks like a power surge or something."

"I'll go check with Darlene to see if it was a fuse," the female clerk interjected before abruptly darting toward a back room.

"Could be the storm," Renald mused to the clerk, who grunted while he impatiently tapped his fingers on the countertop.

"Beneath the earth a serpent sleeps whose fossilized bedchambers mankind depletes," the elderly man at the end of the counter cryptically murmured.

"Excuse me?" the male clerk asked.

"The warnings we received were obvious and fair. Now is the time for revenge and despair."

Renald looked over at the scrawny old man whose face was hidden beneath a darkened fedora. The light from the overhead stained-glass windows cast an ominous aureola around the man that further emboldened the darkness of his sinewy appendages. After the old man's second utterance, the female clerk returned to the room and whispered into the ear of her male associate.

"Gentlemen, I regret to inform you that City Hall is now closing for the remainder of the day to deal with the power outage. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you," the female clerk said apologetically. Meanwhile, the balding man scratched his head and gathered some folders.

"Good luck," the old man jibed. "Everything as we know it is over."

The female clerk didn't stick around to ask the elderly townsman what he meant. In fact, the recording room was now completely empty with the exception of Renald and the old man, who just stared at Renald from the opaque abyss of his melancholy corner.

"What begins with me must end with you. The words I speak are irrevocably true," the old man rhymed for the last time.

Renald, whose heart pounded in his chest like roiling waves, barely got to ask what the old man meant before he hobbled out of the Recording Office and down the gilded hallway of City Hall that led to the front entrance. Several other people were exiting the powerless edifice that seemed to have been robbed of its electrical lifeblood. All of the other offices were darkened; no one knew what was going on. Meanwhile, Renald stayed at least 20 feet behind the old man so as to avoid detection. By the time Renald exited the front doors, the elderly mystic was nowhere to be found.

"Where did he go?" Renald asked rhetorically.

It was then that Renald realized that it wasn't just City Hall's power that was out; it was the entire block's as well. Dead traffic lights brought the early afternoon traffic to a virtual standstill while droves of people exited darkened banks, schools, and retail stores until the electric company restored power to the main grids.

"Very strange," Renald muttered.

As he trekked back to the real estate office, Renald noticed that half the cars in the parking lot were already gone. It was only 12:25 p.m. Surely all of these people were jumping the gun. At most, it would take three or four hours to get the power back on-line. Inside the office, Renald ascended the dark stairwell with slight apprehension as he had never seen his workplace completely devoid of light. When he finally reached fifth floor, a quiet voice called out to him from the shadows.

"Renald, is that you? Over here!" the voice beckoned.

Sensing the direction of the voice, Renald crept along the obfuscated hallway toward a diminutive flame in the office antechamber that hosted the source of the gentle voice...