The Jetpack Resistance - Part 1

How One Invention Changed the Course of Human History

It’s been a year since the creatures arrived. We still don’t know what they call themselves since their language has yet to be deciphered. For lack of a better term, I call them demons because they look like angels, but they certainly have not come in peace.

The demons have technology that looks like magic to me. They have devices that gouge great swaths of land right out of the ground and lift them into the sky like floating islands. It’s from these islands that they stage attacks on nearby cities.

It’s difficult to say whether these creatures require any sleep because I can see them flying around their islands during the day. But at night, they swoop down into the city, their fiery swords blazing, and they wreak havoc. They seem to be able to see through walls, and their swords can cut through stone and metal, so no hiding place is safe. When they come, they damage homes and buildings, automobiles, and even lampposts and mailboxes. The carnage they caused seemed indiscriminate at first, but soon I realized that what they were really after was our children. They come at night to take our children.

I hop down from the tree branch from which I’ve been scouting the demon’s activity and return to the house. Nelson has left food out for me, for which I’m grateful. I wonder, though, if the milk he left out for me has begun to sour, as there’s a particularly ripe aroma emanating from its container.

I pad quietly from the kitchen, down the short hall, to the study where Nelson is seated at the desk, hunched over, head in his hands. Before him lay the plans for his latest invention. On top of the blueprints was a letter, which had obviously been crumpled and re-flattened. When I reached the corner of the desk, I saw the beginning of the letter.

Dear Dr. Daniels,

We regret to inform you that you have been dismissed from the laboratory, effective immediately. Unfortunately, it seems that your values no longer align with those of our distinguished, scientific community, and therefore the board has come to the unanimous conclusion that…

I didn’t need to read any further to know that this wasn’t good. Nelson is a good man and a better scientist. It’s not his fault that since the demons arrived, he has been seeing visions.

“Oh, Charlie. I didn’t hear you come in,” said Nelson as he lifted his face from his hands. “Has there been any change to the demon’s activity?”

None.

“I don’t suppose there has. I imagine they are preparing for their nightly raid. Last time I looked out the window, I’d swear those creatures had come nearly as far as Melrose and Maywood.”

Our little home sits just outside the township of Elmhurst, Illinois. Each night, as we look to the East, we can see the demons plunging down from their islands, flaming swords in hand. We can hear the gas line explosions and see the plumes of fire and smoke rise into the sky. When the wind is just right, we can hear the screams. That’s the worst part. You get numb to the destruction, but the screams pierce through to some inner part of you that doesn’t allow you to forget them.

“Why can’t I see the whole picture?! What good are these visions if they don’t give me everything,” exclaimed Nelson hoping his frustration might trigger another vision.

Last night, Nelson had one of his visions. They seem to be revealing to him the plans for some sort of device, but the images he sees in his mind’s eye are incomplete. As I lay nearby on the couch in the study, he had described the blind spot in his vision as the aura of a migraine. There was a blurry lightning-bolt-shaped and zebra-striped blockage in his vision directly ahead, so he had to carefully focus on what he could see around the blind spot. He has received eighty-three of these visions so far, and each time he has carefully sketched out what he could see. Unfortunately, there was a hole in the center of the sketch where the heart of the device was clearly missing.

A knock came at the front door of the house. I ran down the hall and leaped onto the back of the sofa to peer through the curtains. Though I strained, I couldn’t make out the man’s face.

Nelson arrived at the door and turned the latch.

“George. What’s going on? Have they made a move in this direction?” I could hear the concern in Nelson’s voice.

“Evening Professor,” said George. I realize now that I should have recognized him, if not for his face, for his build, since George’s walking route as our local mailman brought him to our doorstep every afternoon. I suppose it was the unusual lateness of the hour that prevented me from recognizing the man.

“Reports show that the demons are slowly moving in this direction. We expect that they will hit Elmhurst within the next two days.” George continued in a tone lacking his usual geniality.

“What can I do to help?” Nelson said as he motioned for the man to enter the house. “Would you care for anything to drink? I can offer you a glass of water.”

“That would be great. Thank you, Professor.”

The folks about town had come to know Dr. Nelson Daniels as the Professor because of his relationship with the University of Chicago and the work he had been doing in their lab.

“George, what brings you by at this hour?”

“I came to show you something. One of our scouts to Maywood found something that you’ve got to see to believe.” George pulled a satchel from his shoulder and laid it carefully on the dining room table. He opened the flap and gingerly pulled an object, wrapped all in paper, from the bag.

“What is it?” Nelson inquired as he accepted the object from George, who held the package in his outstretched hand.

“See for yourself.”

Nelson unwrapped the object, revealing a metal cylinder. It was nondescript, bearing no markings save one that appeared to be precisely engraved in one end of the cylinder.

“Is it from the Orient?” Asked George. “Do you suppose they’re working with the demons?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. This symbol isn’t like any Chinese symbol I’ve ever seen before,” said Nelson, turning the object in his hands. The smooth, metal object appeared to be nothing more than a piece of brass stock that might be obtained from a local hardware store, that is until Nelson’s thumb was pressed firmly upon the symbol merely by accident.

“Ouch!” Nelson exclaimed, dropping the object to the floor with a heavy thud. A drop of blood appeared in the center of his thumb. The object let off a soft, orange glow from the end that possessed the strange symbol, and then, without making so much as a whisper, the object changed its shape. In the blink of an eye, it went from being nothing more than a cylinder to a highly decorated and polished hilt. Yes, that’s what it looked like - the hilt of a sword!

“Do you like it?” George exclaimed excitedly. I told you that you wouldn’t believe it until you saw it. Sorry about not warning you about the prick to your thumb.”

“It’s quite alright. Where did you say you got this from?”

“Our scout found it in a Maywood alley, behind a small diner,” said George. “Apparently, it was dropped by a demon who had landed behind the diner to investigate some movement. You know by now that they’ve come for our children. Well, this one probably thought it was going to take home a prize, but instead, it received quite a surprise, if you ask me. The movement it had noticed was nothing more than an alley cat, and the cat, mistaking the demon for dinner, leaped from a nearby dumpster and made quick work of the demon’s wings. Imagine a cat climbing the curtains. It made quite a mess of the thing. So, while it was distracted, our scout snuck out of the shadows and shot the beast right between the eyes. Blew its head clean off! Electric blue blood spattered every which…”

“George! I think I’ve heard enough of the gory details. Tell me. Is this what I think it is?” Nelson said as he retrieved the hilt from the floor. As he picked up the device, he turned it over in his hands again, appreciating the fine handiwork of some unknown craftsman. This time, he noticed something new about the object. A red crystal, as red as any ruby from a fancy jewelry store, was embedded in the hilt. Nelson gripped the hilt as he would a sword and then, on a hunch, pressed the crystal with his thumb.

A tingle, like that of an electric shock, ran down Nelson’s arm, focusing on his thumb. He imagined that had his thumb been lifted from the crystal at that moment, he may have actually seen a spark pass from his body to the jewel. From the brass hilt, a flame shot outward, coming impossibly close to George’s face. The man recoiled from the sudden heat of the fiery blade with an undignified yelp.

“Did you know it was going to do that, George?”

“Of course not!” I had no idea it was anything other than a piece of brass. We suspected it was made by the demons, which is why I brought it to you to inspect.”

“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“No, not at all. Just startled me a bit, is all.”

Experimentally, Nelson tapped the crystal again, and the flame vanished. I watched all of this from the couch with great interest and some amusement at the mailman nearly losing half his mustache. I wish there were more I could do to help; as Nelson often says, I am his best assistant. But I’m no good at math, and my penmanship looks like something written by a stray cat.

“Ughh…” Nelson groaned.

“Are you all right, Professor?” George inquired - a look of concern washing over his face.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just these cursed migraines. I can feel another one coming on.”

“Is there anything that I can do to help?”

“No, I’ll be alright.”

“I’ll leave you to rest then. Stay safe, Professor.” And with that, George disappeared into the night.

Nelson walked over to the couch and sat down with a plop. He leaned back and reclined his head on the back of the sofa, his eyes tightly closed.

“It is starting to really hurt, Charlie,” Nelson said in my direction.

Is there anything I can do to help? I asked, but I could tell he was having vision number eighty-four. I hoped that this time he could see the missing part of the device that was being revealed to him in his visions.

To be continued…

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