I’m the contracted bride of the billionaire

Chapter 62: AftermathThis content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

As the blinding brightness disappeared Philip was lost in a cloud of uncertainty. Consciousness slowly came back and sent a tsunami of fractured memories flooding his head. The last distinct picture Amelia’s warped and disfigured face presented in his thoughts.

He whimpered as he worked through what had transpired. A brief blink helped Philip’s vision to clear. The previously flawless projection chamber lay in ruins now. The broken equipment sent sparks, and the air smelled toxic from burnt electronics.

He pushed himself up on unstable arms, flinching at the annoyance the shot caused across his body. “Amelia?” asked He yelled in a frail, almost discernible voice. I got no reply. As his senses sharpened, Philip began to see the disarray all around him. His ringing ears masked the loud alarms’ shouts from far-off distance. Screams and yells erupted from the passageways, a chorus of uncertainty and terror. After faltering to his feet, Philip surveyed the debris.

The once-impressive holographic projector displays were destroyed, leaving very faint remains. Bodies lay thronw over the floor, some twitching weakly, others forebodingly still. He hopped from a hand grabbing his lower leg. Looking down, he noticed Amanda Mitchell’s pallid, blood-stained face.

She panted, eyes wide with terror, “Mr. Waller.” “What… what was that item?” Philip steadied her as she got to her feet, so affecting her temperamental. “I have no idea,” he said, the weight of sensitivity dragging down on him. But we have to leave here.

They moved slowly past rubbish and fallen friends, then toward the exit.

The strengthened door had been knocked off its hinges to expose a sizable opening to the adjacent room. As they got out of the chamber, the whole degree of the damage became clear. Broken glass and hardware filled the passageway.

Crisis lights flashed randomly, producing eerie shaded sections that slid across the walls. Little groups of survivors slumped, their countenances a mix of shock and uncertainty.

While some were fast tapping at damaged specialist devices, desperate to reach the rest of the world, others watched out for the injured.

Amanda exclaimed, “This cannot be happening,” her voice quivering. “It seems something out of a bad dream.” Philip gestured inauspiciously, his brain flashing. Where else might Amelia have been? What had she become after that horrific change? What about Cambel and her ideas? Notwithstanding this disaster, these concerns seemed to be almost meaningless, but they tormented him assiduously.

A familiar voice cut through the chaos, and Philip went to see lead researcher for the office, Dr. Reeves, hobbling toward them.

His lab coat was tattered and discolored; a horrible cut ran across his forehead. “Mr. Waller, God bless you for being alive,” Dr. Reeves replied, his voice clear. “We have disconnected from the outer world. Messages are down and emergency systems are failing.

The heart plummeted in Philip. And the standards for regulation? Are they still operating? Dr. Reeves shook his head with a grimace. “We are not clear. The mechanisms of monitoring are not working. As far as we know, that… chemical… may be free in the workplace. Even worse, it might have already disappeared.

The meaning of this comment made Philip shiver down his spine. Should that monster have escaped, the results may have been disastrous. He considered the millions of Philadelphians who, blissfully ignorant of the possible threat, were Though the anxiety was chewing at his insides, Philip spoke firmly, “We need to reestablish contact with the outside world.” And we have to find out what happened with that xenomind, Dr. Reeves gestured. “The backup generator should be on operational mode. If we can access to the control room, we could be able to revive our systems.

A low ruckus rocked the structure as they talked about their next action. As little bits of dust and other trash dropped from the ceiling, the survivors freewheeled around. What was that? Amanda questioned hardly perceptibly among the repeated cries of terror. Before anybody could react, a succession of explosions rocked the institution.

As the floor under them rocked, Philip had to stiffen himself against the wall to remain straight. Dr.? “The reactor.” Reeves spoke silently, his face pallid. “If it has been meddled with…” Philip didn’t have to finish the idea. Not only would the facility be under risk should the reactor enter critical state.

The whole city might be under risk. “We really want to move, presently,” Philip asked, his businessman image commanding. Clearly, in an emergency, clear action was essential. “Dr. Reeves, compile everyone who can assist and visit the reactor room. See if you can resolve it or initiate a crisis closure.”

Scientist Philip and analyst Amanda are on their way to the control room of a decaying facility. They are unsure if Amelia would be overwhelmed by external knowledge or whether there is possibility for survivors.

A few survivors are trying to bring the control room-packed with broken screens and bursting consoles-back to life. Philip, a leader, asks a young technician for a report saying most systems are dead and they are trying to fix communications by circumnavigating broken circuits. He comes upon an ancient radio set in the corner most likely utilized as an emergency backup.

As Philip headed toward the radio, another tremor rocked the structure and he had to grab onto a console close to stay upright. Amanda helps Philip start experimenting with the radio in search of any definite repetition. Static fills the air, broken only by sporadic incoherent speech. A voice cuts through the background hubbub, citizens to stay inside and away from windows because of an unnamed threat.

The message pauses suddenly to be replaced by more still. Understanding that whatever had happened in the office was at that point being experienced in the city, Philip and Amanda share stressed looks. Philip clicks the send button, but before he can squeeze it another sound fills the space.

Starting as a faint murmur, hardly audible over cautions and overreacted voices, the sound increases quickly and is difficult to ignore.

The sound drags into their brains as the survivors in the control room seize their heads in agony. “Philip, my darling,” Amelia said softly, but it was not Amelia speaking. The alien cadence and sarcastic tone made clear that the xenomind was in charge. “Did you really believe you could be away from us so fast?” Philip’s blood ran cold. He had trusted, shockingly maybe, that the element had been destroyed in the underlying chaos.

But it was now quite evident that it had not only survived but flourished. He asked, his voice raw with emotion, “Amelia, what have you done?” A cold smile permeated the space. “Amelia is here among us. For something more remarkable at this point, she is absolutely indispensable.

As everyone of you before long will be. The connotations of those phrases rocked the survivors. Whoever it was, this thing obviously did not want to be left alone. “Your goals are what?” Philip questioned, trying to maintain a steady voice. An entity seeking development and evolution runs across billionaire Philip Waller.

The creature warns him that it is time to create a new planet since his species has reached its limit. Scenes of bedlam abound on the screens throughout the room, with odd mathematical forms preserving anything they come into touch with. Philip is constantly reminded by the creature that this is merely the beginning and that from this seed transcending his limiting imagination a new universe will develop.

As the alterations reach outside Philadelphia into other states and cities, Philip finds great horror. Once more the thing laughs, Philip wonders what to do. The voice silence as the screens dark.

Desperate and afraid, the survivors turn to Philip in the control room. When under pressure to acquire a company, the tycoon now puts all people at risk. The terrible intelligence of the thing captures him; it captures the woman he loves as well. Philip knew he had to decide as the building shook around them and seemed about to fall apart.

Either resist this power that seems to be impossible to halt or submit to the promised new world order. For Amelia, of Philadelphia, of all the human race, her future stayed in flux. As another explosion rocked the structure, Philip too knew time was running out.