This Sci-Fi epic is dedicated to @AngusEcrivain. My first entry for SFSD X, it's somewhat of a Wild Card entry, so I have chosen to include all of the prompt items, in hopes of earning some brownie points. Hope you enjoy. For those not familiar with the competition, I challenge you to guess which 10 items are prompts! Enjoy.

Outside his small window, the rice terraces caught the morning light. The mountainous terrain had been carved into flat, wriggling steps that traced the curves of the hillside. Water filled the terraces, glistening against the green rice plants that flourished there. Bells chimed gently in the breeze. This was before, his mind reminded him. The eye of the hurricane. The respite between wars. Before the Dome was a necessity-

Yuri's eyes snapped open. On the console in front of him, the sensors flashed red. Alarms pierced the air like discordant bells. Thick, roiling clouds blackened the horizon. They flashed hellish shades of blue and purple ahead of him. An electromagnetic storm. He stared into the maw of the approaching monster.

He swore, disengaged the autopilot, and rushed to power-down the console.The altimeter's glowing needle flat-lined from 30,000 ft to 0. The console went silent. He would be flying blind; electric instruments were a one way ticket to annihilation.

He glanced around his ship: the heavily converted 2459 VW Beetle had been discarded by the salvage team, but Yuri had adopted it, welding on some stabilizer fins, and a set of penta-thrusters. It wasn't fast, but it was sturdy. The thrusters underneath his car hummed nervously, and static hushed in his ears. The Beetle passed into the clouds. Wind wrenched it through the air like a paper kite.

Rain assaulted the vehicle. Thunder rumbled deafeningly. Every second felt like an hour in the throes of the storm. Yuri pulled the steering wheel in all directions, trying to keep the Beetle level. If it was overturned in the wind; the car would be torn apart. At least the rain wasn't acidic, Yuri thought wryly. They were too far South for that.

His little sister would know they'd lost contact now. The thought of her praying for his safety in the village's shrine stopped terror from strangling his heart. Abruptly, Yuri's vision went black. Shit, my helmet. Not again. He detached the upper-part of his helmet frantically, leaving only the black, pod-shaped breather that cradled his nose and mouth.

Lightning stabbed through the air to his right. Yuri flinched. He located and pulled the deterrent shoot. An electromagnetic pulser attached to an aether balloon was jettisoned into the air behind him. Lightning fell upon it like a pack of starving wolves.

He tried to guide the vehicle down through the clouds, releasing electromagnets into the air as infrequently as he dared. Lightning flashed with furious abandon. Thunder shook the car. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, muscles burning with effort. He risked a glance downwards. He had no idea what altitude that were at, sandwiched between two gargantuan titans of nature: electric-charged air, and oceans of raging acid. He cursed the year 2815 again.

His hair slowly stood on end.

"No, no, no," Yuri muttered, as it brushed against the roof of the car.

He released the final deterrent, hoping the aether balloon would stay the otherwise fatal touch of lightning.

A magnificent crack sent the car jolting forwards. In the rear vision mirror, he saw it. The jagged after-images knifed across his vision. Blue. White. Black. Then the world began to tilt.

"Tamade!" Yuri swore. The thrusters were arranged like an ancient 'five of diamonds' playing card, and the rear-left one had just stalled. He tried frantically to reboot it, as the car tilted forwards. If the angle increased much more, the ravaging winds would overturn the Beetle. When it refused to restart, he punched in the termination code for the front-right thruster instead. The car slowly leveled. He realized he'd been holding his breath. Yuri stared out the rear vision mirror. The last aether balloon drew lightning to it like a plasma globe.

He drove for hours as the storm raged. It faded as quickly as it had appeared, continuing its mad rampage without him. Yuri rubbed his almond-shaped eyes, suddenly exhausted. With a shaking hand, he powered on the instruments.

The console told him what he'd feared: the Beetle was massively off course from where the aerial island colony had been sighted, orbiting around the coast of what had once been Antarctica. The air was safe that far South; the caustic acid froze in the low temperatures. Near the equator it strangled every living thing in its grasp, including the Dome. The car was now Southeast of the Australian plateau; a deadly volcanic strip of land jutting out of the acidic ocean.

Clouds obscured his view. He thumped the dashboard impatiently. The altimeter still read 0, glowing with an eerie red halo. That was impossible: it would be suicide to fly so low. He squinted into the distance.

He wasn't expecting to drive into a tree.

Branches penetrated the windscreen, skewering his shoulder to the leather seat back. His vision pulsed red. Then everything went black.

There were clouds suspended in the air below the village's perch in the green mountains. His sister, Juang, still young and innocent, was curled up on the floor of their family's house. If he looked outside the western window, it would take him back to the present. To the Dome; that fading, failing organ of civilization.

A green-bladed axe shattered his window, stopping inches from his face. Yuri yelled. Pain seared through his right shoulder. He looked down. A tree branch pinned him to the seat. The wood glistened red in the morning light. He moaned. The axe retreated in a shower of glass. A brown hand reached through and deftly opened the door.

"Peace," a deep voice said.

"Please-" Yuri moaned, recognising the language. "Don't-" the words caught in his throat as he saw who the voice belonged to.

It had to be a spirit. Yuri decided. Humanoid, but not human; they shared brown eyes and black hair, but that was where the similarities ended.

The spirit's bare chest and face were brown like a tree's branches. Darker, swirling patterns were heavily inscribed onto his skin. He wore no gas mask. Surely only a spirit could survive the acid's wrath.

A fibrous cloak hung open from his wide shoulders. A green-bladed axe in one hand. He wondered if the spirit would kill him to punish him for damaging its tree.

A piece of silvered scrap metal hung on a cord around the spirit's neck. It swung closer to Yuri as he leant towards him.

"Just a flesh wound," the spirit said, probing the wound. His large hand wrapped around the wood imbedded in Yuri's shoulder. "This will hurt."

Pain consumed him. As the world darkened, a distant tolling of bells rung in his ears.

When Yuri came to his senses, he was lying by the edge of a lake, some distance from the mangled Beetle. His shoulder ached. Blood dribbled from a constrictive bandage around the wound. Yuri fumbled around his navy body-armour. He detached the medikit from his thigh, located the silver morph-patches, and applied two onto his right forearm. The medicine seeped through his body armour, and blissful numbness spread through his arm.

There was acid fog swirling on the lake surface. Panic shot through him. His hands went to the breathing pod on his face. The smooth plastic seemed undamaged. A deep breath filled filled his lungs with the rubbery, recycled air. He waved his fingers in front of his face. Any flesh exposed to the toxic air - his shoulder, face, and fingers- should've been angry and peeling. But his skin was undamaged.

He looked to the spirit of the tree. "What's your name, spirit?"

"The name's Toa Wharino Smith," came the reply. "and I'm not a spirit."

Under his cloak, Toa was shirtless, and only a flaxen skirt covered the man from waist to knee. Acid fog would blister his exposed skin. If the concentration was high enough, it would strip flesh to the bone.

"Aren't you worried about the acid fog?" Yuri asked.

"It's only mist. I walk this trail every day. The air does not bite." Toa inhaled deeply. "Not here, at least."

Yuri nodded disbelievingly, and tried to absorb the scene he'd crashed into. His car was dipped into the edge of a lake. Water gnawed hungrily at the front thrusters. The remains of a tree bobbed surreally up and down in the water. Behind the smoking wreckage, tire tracks stretched up the hill. Leafy branches and vibrant yellow fruit splattered the trail, which ended in more mist.

A loud, mournful bell caused Yuri to flinch. The sound was coming from a small lakeside town, some distance along the shore.

"If you can walk, I'll take you back to the town," Toa said. "There's people who can help you there."

Yuri nodded, slowing rising to his feet. "Can I bring the Beetle?"

Toa looked at the wreck. "If you can pull it."

As they approached the town, the mist thickened. Yuri flinched, but it snaked around him harmlessly. Toa towered over him; two heads taller, and twice as wide as any man he'd ever seen. His skirt created a pleasant noise in rhythm to his footsteps. It was strange to see a man in a skirt. Only woman wore them under the Dome.

Yuri wondered what strange, primitive land he had crashed into

A wall of barbarous tree trunks ringed the town. A hand-carved sign named the town: Rotowā. Mud turned to concrete underfoot as they passed under the arched gate. Mist lingered at the gate, not daring to invade the town. Toa led him past a collection of single storey, wooden buildings. Their beige exterior clashed with the primitive fence, but a familiar glow emanated from their windows. Electricity. It was not as primitive as he had feared.

Strange people passed by them. They moved about in the morning sunshine, unburdened by gas masks. He gaped at their shapes and sizes. Round eyes, thick lips. Black skin walked next to skin pale as rice. It didn't make sense. How is their gene pool this diverse?

He caught a glimpse of himself in a reflective window. His mouth opened and closed like a mindless fish. He couldn't believe it. At home, children stared in awe at him; he had parted streets with this uniform. A group of women wearing pants passed by him. They didn't so much as glance at blood-streaked face. One gave him a smile, and continued on her way.

His head felt heavy on his shoulders. Where was he?

Toa stopped in front of a massive, stone hall. A pink neon sign adorned the entryway, proclaiming 'Titties and Beer'.

Toa pulled the door open, and gestured for Yuri to enter. He stepped inside anxiously. The ground floor was filled with polished wooden tables. A stone fireplace crackled opposite the entrance, and a bar lined the near left wall. A regal staircase near the fireplace led to the mezzanine. Doors lined the upper floor. Rusted metallic beams arched across ceiling.

"Well what'da we have here?" a man drawled.

A stout walrus of a man leered at him from behind the bar. This man too, was unphased by his arrival. Massive deposits of fat bulged beneath his checkered mustard shirt. He looked like a walking tumour. He must've been exposed to severe radiation at some point, Yuri decided. How else could you become that grotesque?

The man threw a stained rag onto the bar, and frowned. "We got piss and mud walking into my establishment on this fine morning. The honour's all mine, course. Not like you see a yellow an' a brown together every single day now do ya?" Fat wobbled under his chin as he spoke.

Toa stared over the head of the ruddy faced man. "The bell's rung. You know what it means."

"Course I do, Maori boy." Frank leaned over the counter, expansive rolls of stomach fat resting on the varnished wood. "It means another bugger's dead, don't it?" He turned his piggish blue eyes on Yuri, smirking. "This must be lucky ninety-six."

Yuri leant sideways. The world had started swaying. He despised Frank already, even though he didn't understand he'd said.

"What's the matter?" Frank mocked. "You're looking awful white for a yellow."

Cold sweat ran down Yuri's neck. I've got to get out of here. He fled the hall,  removing his gas mask as bile rose in his throat. His breakfast splattered against the pavement. He sat on the front steps of the building, gulping breath after breath of the sweet air into his lungs.

When he finally looked up, a hooded man and pale-skinned girl were carting a body past him. A woolen blanket concealed the corpse's face. Yuri stared, mouth agape, as the details engrained themselves in his mind: the tears running down the girl's face; the semi-circled disk deeply embedded in dead man's skull. One side reflected the morning light, a red 'J' peaked through his bloody hair. Yuri retched again as the duo continued on their path.

Toa emerged from the building.

"Where am I?" Yuri asked him, his voice quavering.

"Depends on who you ask," Toa replied. He sat next to Yuri. "That woman there will say you are on the shore of lake Taupo, in New Zealand. The man wearing the turban agrees. It's the only thing everyone agrees on." He pointed out a dark-skinned youth walking away from the lake. "Tyris thinks we're all being punished, sentenced to walk the Earth forever."

"What do you think?"

"I'm not a ghost. But it's no secret that this world isn't right."

"What do you mean?"

"The mists, the Wastelands, even this place," Toa gestured to the village. "This is no more my time than it is yours."

"But that's impossible! It's the year 2815," Yuri protested.

"Not anymore."