Last One Out Closes The Door

“Zero-point-zero-two metrics and closing,” the tower speakers sounded, only slightly louder than the exhaust from the galley. At the distance the ship was from port, the formality of giving the range to arrival was lost in a hurricane of wind. The harbor banked for a moment as it took on the extra weight of the transport, corrected itself, and the system went clear.

With the ship’s bulk blocking the bay’s view, the travelers were adjusting to the dim lights of the dock. Everything was a soft green except for a pair of flashing yellow strobes near the ship’s entrance. Normal routine would have the travelers waiting on the side of the harbor, as people disembarking from an arriving Galley would be given priority to move. Not this run.

The ship’s gangplank uncurled like a lotus, petals of metal and wood revealing sharp white light. The travelers didn’t wait for formalities. There wasn’t time. There was some semblance of order and tradition as children, elderly, and families climbed on first. The remaining men and women closed and locked the gate to the harbor before hurrying aboard. As delicately as it had opened, the gangplank door sealed itself.

The harbor seemed to sigh as the ship pulled itself free. Sails and small fans directed the ship higher and further away. The ship rose, its mast pointing east towards the rendezvous. Below, the harbor appeared to have relaxed after the travelers had left.

And at its base the darkness was already consuming it.

It was spread far beyond just the harbor. Every building of the metropolis was half consumed, each structure like a rotting tree, its bark charred and insides turned to pulp. The parasite had spread and there wasn’t anything to do to save this city. The last ship was now heading to the new host of the people, and there they would plan for the inevitable arrival of the hunger.

Last One Out Closes The Door by Justin Diehl is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.