Neurosis. That was it. It was the laudable plague.
Oliver thought back on the growing prevalence of mental illnesses related to chronic stress before the diZease. It seemed like it was getting to the point where nearly everyone was "suffering" from some perceived "mental illness." There was a little bit of snark when he thought those words. He wondered idly if others thought had the same kind of internal dialogue, he had… Regardless, the snark was there, mostly because of how silly it all was to him. The more he thought about it the more astounded he became that humanity hadn't ended itself sooner.
Gentle waves built upon one another in the salty sea below him as he soared through the open Pacific skies. A crosswind buffeted him gently as he flew south, pushing against him and his backpack, wherein lay his food and water. He could still barely make out the mountainous coastline of what used to be California. Boundaries meant nothing now, though. States were simply arbitrary identifiers with no political affiliations or independent power. It was just empty land and ghost towns. He thought of the millions of people who used to fill those cities, and of how weak they'd all
become.
Once, long ago, strength, courage and mastery were honored, displayed in the old and instilled in the young. With the advent of the industrial revolution and the subsequent revolutions of technology and "equality" and "We have no right to judge others! (unless they aren't a part of MY
particular brand of brainwashed idiocy - then I'm a hypocrite)," weakness and passivity and leisure had replaced more valuable and hard-won qualities, to the detriment of mankind worldwide. Humanity had never, or at least very rarely, experienced the power that Oliver now commanded,
yet they had been held aloft and had made advancement after advancement due to their iron willpower and the blessings of God, and they'd been blessed because they'd always pushed the boundaries, reaching for progress and adventure.. Not all people did this, of course, but enough did. Eventually they became lazy and fat and forgot what it was to be human; forgot what it was to be a child of God!
They so arrogantly claimed to have killed Him off, all the while slowly fading into a darkness from which they would not return intact. They'd built themselves a new Tower of Babel in the form of technological progress, which was actually little more than a sick need for it and dependence on
it. They'd sought godhood while neglecting that which made them closest to God. It was depressing, but it wasn't as if they could blame anyone but themselves. It seemed that all of the science in the world couldn't teach normal people that their neurosis was a result of their own weakness.
The happiest and most lively people Oliver had ever met were those who continually challenged themselves and intentionally and consistently did hard things. The disciplined were this life's great winners, yet even they had fallen to the passivity of the masses. It was these masses, intent on skating by and making life ever easier, that sought godhood, whether they consciously knew it or not, and it was they that brought destruction down upon the world. Each time a word was spoken to spread their twisted ideologies and sad obsessions the speaker was incriminated in the downfall of the human species.
Didn't they know that perfection isn't to be obtained until after death? Instead of focusing on what was truly important and on living this life to the fullest while they were still alive, they wasted away daily, doing whatever it took to numb their self-inflicted pain and ever hoping for their lords in white coats to save them from having to face their Creator. Abolish pain, stave off death, tame entropy... They didn't see that they were squandering gifts given them by God, and toying with things far beyond their pay grade. And it wasn't "global warming" or the freedom to bear arms that
ended it. No, it was fear, arrogance, and faith in the fallible.
They'd become disconnected from what made them human, from their power, and that had brought on a nearly irreversible nihilism and neurosis that ultimately brought
them to their knees. Oliver could relate, at least insofar as what it felt like to be powerless. Now, as powerful as he was, there simply were no negative emotions or thoughts plaguing him. The depression and anxiety that had hung like a dark cloud over most of his life had been pierced by
brilliant sunlight and eradicated.
And now, sailing through the air above the untamed ocean waters, he was grateful. He didn't understand why he'd been given these gifts - why he was still alive when so many others weren't - but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Of course he wanted to verify his theories on why these abilities had developed, but for now he was content to just accept them. He was still pretty excited at the prospect of a real fight. He hadn't been able to really unleash his powers accept against trees and boulders. He'd become well acquainted with his limits, though, and found
the more he pushed them the further he could go.
The saline skies through which he flew welcomed him. Memories of dreams he'd had but never fulfilled cascaded through his mind. He'd always felt called toward the briny waters of the deep. The one time he'd gone as a child turned out to be a nightmare. He wasn't much of a swimmer at eight years old, hell, he still wasn't much of a swimmer. Back then, though, he was unaware of the dangers that going too far away from the beach posed. His good dreams were of adventure and exploration, sailing over the sea. For each of those, though, there were twice as many nightmares - memories of the raging waters sucking him further and further from the beach and ever closer to an early death.
He'd come to the sea this day to clear his mind before beginning his new mission in earnest. He knew he had to find the reason behind the grouping up of the zombies. It made no sense to him, and that was exactly why he sought at explanation. There was a voice, though, in his mind. It told
him that he wouldn't like what he was going to find if he continued. It wasn't a warning to stay away - more like a message of caution to be prepared for the inevitable. Knowing he could cross vast distances rapidly and having calmed somewhat since deciding to take this journey, he was
content to spend a little time absorbing God's handiwork. The sun dove behind a thick, gray cloud that appeared out of nowhere. Oliver soared through the shadow that was now cast upon the world below the rapidly growing stormy edifice in the sky. He turned his body, so his back was
to the sea and his face to the sky, and continued to fly, as a sick feeling crept into his stomach. This wasn't just a storm - it couldn't be.
He'd never seen clouds appear out of nowhere then rapidly expand to cover half the sky. No... the whole sky. He watched in disbelief. A cold terror began building in him, overpowering rational thought. What exactly was happening overhead Oliver didn't know, but he did know in his very
bones that he needed to get as far away from it as possible. He yelled at the top of his lungs and focused with all of his mind on speed. His whole being lurched forward, and he turned and shot, faster than a bullet, to the east. His mind was screaming at him to escape. Confusion rocked him,
buffeted him like the wind that he cut through just as it cut through him. The force of the wind was extremely painful, and Oliver screamed, refusing to slow. He couldn't stop. Not yet.
He pushed himself further until he was over what he thought might be Utah. He slowed and turned to look back at the gathering clouds. Everything to the west was cloaked in a hurricane. It was completely unnatural and disturbing. His entire body was rocked with pain. He reached up and cringed when his fingers met his scalp; the skin was raw. He was surprised that he still had hair on his head.
He'd run into this problem before and had learned to create a protective shield with his power to prevent the wind from damaging his body, but his fear had made him all but forget about it. He'd only had the thinnest of barriers between himself and near inadvertent death by wind, and that had only been put up as an afterthought once the pain had hit.
Moving at several hundred miles per hour made it kind of hard to focus on much else, especially when in terror. He was just thankful he'd maintained some sort of barrier otherwise he may have killed himself in the short time it took him to reach his current location. Oliver looked at his hands and saw them shaking. As the rhythmic thump of his heart began to slow, and the adrenaline left him, he felt pain. He'd never used so much power so rapidly before. He was a fan of pushing boundaries, but he wondered if he'd accidentally gone too far.
He looked around below him for a moment and found a wide ledge, clearly inaccessible to any but the birds, and Oliver, to which he lowered himself. His feet touched the flat rocky surface and he crumpled to his hands and knees. His muscles were on fire and his bones throbbed. His entire body shook as he inhaled the high-country air deeply. He'd gotten used to the thin air of high altitude already, living in the mountains of Arizona these past weeks and of course spending so much
time in flight. He laid down, pressing his torso and cheek onto the cold stone. His eyes looked west toward the still growing storm. He watched the ever-darkening firmament in that direction until his eyes closed and sleep overtook him.
A nearly invisible white light floated just above Oliver as he slumbered. The man had overdone it and was now vulnerable. Fortunately, just as it always had, the light was there to watch over Oliver. Of course, it was more than a light, it knew that, but that's the form in which the light remained, for now - insofar as form was actually form. It didn't recall any human ever having seen it for what it truly was, now that it thought about it. Not that it really mattered either way, as long as it was able to continue honoring God by doing its duty toward those it was assigned to watch over. The light saw the drab, ash colored sky over the Pacific ocean and silently wished for a moment that the thing would make another attempt on Oliver's life. The speed of Oliver's flight away from the sea had been astounding - he was still getting used to seeing Oliver accomplish feats previously unfathomable by humans - and in the hurry the light didn't have the chance to do anything about the ugly thing's arrival at all. The very sight of the Wrathful creature had brought revulsion bubbling to the surface for the light and it had wanted nothing more than to strike out. For Oliver, for humanity, and most of all for what the bastard and his kind had done to the Lord. The light watched Oliver, dozing peacefully on the hard surface of the mountain ledge, and was happy. God had much in store for this man. The light had never seen any other like Oliver and was thankful it had been given the chance to steward him. In the old days the light could have easily spoken with Oliver, but the more rational humanity had become, relying on their own cognitive abilities than on their faith in God, the further from their spiritual gifts they'd drifted. The light thought Oliver had seen it a couple of times in the past, by no doing of the light itself - and of course not as God saw the light - but beyond that it had had no real communication with him. It saddened the light, but it had hope that things were going to change in that regard. After all, humanity had all but destroyed itself now. Where else would they turn but back to their Creator? The light knew that not all, maybe even most, of them would continue on as those now dead had gone. They were largely arrogant and stupid and full of fecal matter, not unlike those fallen from Grace, so the light wouldn't be surprised at all if its assumption turned out to be true. But as ever, there would undoubtedly be a few who would see the truth. Some, the blessed, would discover where humanity had gone wrong and would fix it, at least as well as they could. The light knew Oliver would be one of that minority, for Oliver was truly good; or at least as close to good as a human could be. Now, with the world in ruins, the light briefly wondered what the greater plan was. It was curious as to what was going to happen in this world and what God's plan was. It knew, of course, and was content with the fact that it would be informed if it needed to be, but the mild curiosity was there, nonetheless. It thought with excitement that it would just have to wait and see.
Oliver woke to clear skies in all directions. He guessed he'd been asleep for a few hours, given the placement of the sun in the sky. He climbed to his feet and stretched, feeling a slight ache in his muscles. He smiled broadly, surprised at how good he felt considering the pain he'd been in when
he'd fallen asleep. He thanked God and stepped off the ledge. He wasn't quite sure where he was, other than possibly Utah, but knew he would figure out quickest by looking for landmarks. He jumped from the ledge, falling quickly toward the ground far below, before slowing and flying south, keeping the far away sea to his right, toward his new home in northern Arizona. He was still going to find the convergence point of those massive packs of zombies he'd seen on ZTV but needed to find something familiar so he could get his bearings and make certain of his location. If he could find Flagstaff, though, or even the familiar mountains surrounding it, then he'd be set.
He flew swiftly with his full shield in place, though not quite as quickly as he had earlier in the day, and it didn't take him too long to see a familiar peak. He flew toward it and soon was looking down at Flagstaff proper. He turned and looked toward the northeast. Feeling his stomach growl, Oliver pulled his backpack off and reached into the front pocket, fishing out a couple pieces of beef jerky. He munched on the dried and seasoned meat and began floating toward his destination at a leisurely pace, using one hand to replace the pack on his back. Birds of a kind Oliver didn't know
soared overhead. Oliver watched them for a moment. They seemed so peaceful, as if unaware of the devastation that had taken place on the world below.
A scream pierced the atmosphere, making Oliver flinch and drop his other piece of jerky. He looked up and around and spotted the source. His mouth dropped open as he witnessed what was happening. The flock of birds had been scattered in every direction as a girl hurtled through
them like a bowling ball through pins. He watched wide-eyed as the girl changed her trajectory through the air and headed straight for him, backwards. The shock of seeing another person in the sky had him frozen in place as she closed in on him. They collided, knocking the wind from Oliver's lungs. Now they were bother hurtling toward the ground below at an uncomfortably fast pace.
"What the hell?" the girl shouted. "Get off of me!"
The girl was intent on getting Oliver away from her, badgering him with elbows to the gut, and didn't seem to be worried at all about her momentum carrying them both to the ground.
Oliver had only been a few dozen feet above the city, he'd estimated, which meant that if he didn't stop her momentum, or untangle himself from her quickly, then he'd be in for a rough impact. His brain functions seemed to kick back in just in time. He flipped them around so that he was above the woman and stopped, keeping a tight arm around her body to keep her from falling into the hard ground below. With wide eyes Oliver looked at the pavement, all of two feet below them.
She screamed and Oliver released her. Fortunately for her the fall wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. He brought his feet to the street surface and reached down to give the girl a hand up. She stared at him in a moment in pain.
"Thanks," she said, floating up off the ground, "but I'll be fine."
A moment later she stood before Oliver. She wore mid-thigh length shorts, hiking boots, a white tank top and over that a police vest. Oliver had no idea what to make of her. She was certainly beautiful, though, under the layer of dirt that covered her.
"What are you looking at?" she said pointedly.
"Uh...just trying to figure out who it is that nearly killed me," he returned.
"You know if you hadn't been in my way you wouldn't have been 'nearly killed,'" she retorted.
"If I hadn't been in your way then you certainly would be."
She exhaled shortly and narrowed her eyes at him before sticking out a hand.
"I'm Sora, who are you?"