Airbornes: Bjorn and the Floating Nest

Nukilik awoke to the rumble of a surface quake. Smoke and fire seeped through a splintered gap in the main living room floorboards, but most of the clashing came from the girl’s bedroom at the rear of the cabin. Pine logs along the east wall groaned as the wood twisted and then splintered free of the bindings. The rearmost section of the ceiling and roof heaved upward and then drooped but held. Icy winds rushed through fresh gaps in the sod insulation. Everything was breaking apart.

“Essentials, nothing but essentials,” he shouted as his two daughters burst into the living room, already dressed and carrying outdoor clothing in hand. One tall and one short, they moved through the darkness like stick figures outlined by the red haze of an open fire pit.

Nukilik pulled on his winter boots before standing. For a big man, he was quick, but his wife, Amka, was faster. She was already rushing through the open doorway to ensure the girl’s safety. The stink of surface burn reeked throughout the cabin.

Three wrapped and tied bearskin bedrolls dropped from the loft, followed by three boys thumping to the main landing. Running and shouting came from all sides, but Nukilik moved with determined purpose—safety and gathering all things essential to survival.

The boom of overhead thunder shook the timbers, and the dynamic sizzle of nearby lightning gushed through the splits in the walls. Like thieves sifting through flickering light and staggering as the floorboards continued to sway and buckle, the family snatched things out of the food cupboard and off the walls: coats, supplies, and weapons. As they darted out the front door, each one shouted a name in the passing:

"Adlartok."

"Meriwa."

"Cupun."

"Tulugaak," followed by, "I got Kallik."

Nukilik and Amka followed, breaking clear of the front porch just as the entire rear of the cabin vanished into a massive glowing rip in the ground.

Nukilik evaluated their immediate options. Flames and ice battled for control of everything nearby. Winds howled; sleet and snow swirled; molten rock spewed from beneath the ruptured ground. Their closest neighbors, Kanalik and Philip, came running and shouting through the snow, but a sudden parting in the ice sucked them both down like leaves drawn into the swirl of a blazing campfire. Many others were also missing.

Everywhere he looked, the chaos consumed the world. Flames, smoke, wind, thunder, and ice came from every side.

During the scramble from the cabin, Amka had snagged a spider-silk guide rope and several other critical items. Nukilik glanced at her face, saw the calm, then pointed north while grabbing one end of the cordage.

“Make a chain with your hands. We’ll tie off at first opportunity for a pause.” He took the lead.

Amka nodded and stood in place, feeding out the rope until each kid, in turn, had hooked in and wrapped a knot of cord around his or her hands.

For a while, they tramped into the wind on slippery footing over iced stones. But as the highlands came into view, the bulk of the destruction fell behind. They stopped, took the time to make proper links in the chain, then continued the journey. The disruption of the world had not ended; it just moved slower than foot traffic.

The angel of old had declared north as the path to safety. Nukilik followed her instructions and headed toward Upworld—a left-behind wilderness occupied by wild beasts, genetically altered humanoids, and malformed bio-mechanicals, leftovers from the old war.

“Got to find a place with a clear line of sight,” Nukilik said. “Somewhere with less wind. If we get separated, make your way to the bridge at Silla gorge.”

Tied in second on the guideline, Nukilik’s middle son, Cupun, passed the message to his younger brother, who sent it down-line until it reached their mother in the rear.

Nukilik was a big man in mass as well as height. When he moved forward, the rope tightened, and no one lagged. This event had been a long time coming. Many people had ceased believing in the angel and her warning. Nukilik was not among the foolish.

For years, he and his household had slept at the ready for a world on fire. Thus, they had escaped the immediate danger stocked with boots, clothing, and other supplies. Ice dwellers knew how to survive in freezing winds, long nights, and end-world calamity.

The village was consumed inside and out by random hellholes like the one that had taken the cabin. Other survivors might be nearby; perhaps just beyond the spray of ice and fire, their voices lost to the howl of the wind and the rumbles from the ground.

Nukilik banked long-term survival on the skills and training of his wife and kids, but was glad the exit had permitted enough time to snatch his Marlin from above the bed. The magazine contained four carriages. The quake had taken out the shelves along the left sidewall before he reached the living room. Belongings, including the boxes of extra ammo, had scattered everywhere. He would make do with the available loads.

Both girls had snatched ready-packs from the hooks near the doorway. Kallik, his youngest son, had saved an aged Gransfors mini hatchet. It was the lad’s favorite tool. No one, not even Nukilik, was more accurate with a hatchet than Kallik.

Adlartok, the oldest girl, had salvaged a bow with arrows, as had Nukilik’s wife. No doubt, Cupun had laid hold to his Heckler & Koch P7. The kid slapped leather quicker than raindrops in a nighttime lightning storm and always slept with the piston near his bed.

Tulugaak, the oldest boy, had a knife and the only electronic fiber-spear in the village.

For the moment, the supplies at hand would have to work. Everyone in the household was competent at defense, hunting, and long-term survival. But without an exact plan, they could still end up short on supplies.

In some places, waist-deep snow slowed their pace. In others, the ground laid bare, wet, and spotted with a surface burn. Even the winds thrashed before the rapid environmental changes, sometimes blowing snow and ice and other times gusting with the choking stench of a timberline forest fire.

But the further north they traveled, the more they gained on the calamity. Nukilik was surprised it had caught so many village people off guard. They had watched it coming but had also expected months of ready time. Now the group plans for a well-ordered departure were worthless. As an act of midnight revenge against all things known and trusted, the destruction was here. And it was getting worse, just like the angel had prophesied. 

None of them knew they were on the outskirts of the most potent cleansing catastrophe in the history of the planet.