by Ben Wolf
The freezer door flung wide open, and Al lurched forward.
Hallie doused Al with the bucket, and he froze solid within two steps.
When Hallie dropped the bucket, Justin caught the words “Liquid Nitrogen: Use With Caution” printed on the side.
“Get him out of here, and close the door!” Arlie yelled.
Bear obliged. He activated his mech’s thrusters, rammed into Al, and launched him clear across the kitchen. Al’s frozen form shattered against the opposite wall.
Then Shaneesha and Dr. Angela came through the kitchen door, equally as malformed.
“Shut it!” Hallie screamed.
This time, Captain Marlowe and Bryant managed to get the door shut and latched, sealing everyone inside. When the door closed, Justin realized a soft blue light glowed overhead. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that he could see all of them amid the frozen fog.
And now they were stuck in the freezer.
“As long as this thing actually seals properly, we’ll be safe. And as long as they don’t think to try to open the door.” Hallie wrapped her arms around herself. “They don’t like the cold.”
“They?” Justin gawked at her. “What do you mean, ‘they?’”
“The nanobots. It’s new tech. Highly classified, highly erratic. Capable of repurposing metal and other materials to reproduce and multiply,” Hallie explained. “Really incredible stuff. But it’s fine. They can’t hurt us in here.”
Justin squared himself with Hallie, suddenly disgusted by her nonchalance about this new brand of horror she’d unleashed aboard the Nidus—which was made of “metal and other materials.” They might be safe now, but what did that mean for their long-term survival prospects?
“There’s still thousands of people out there, and we lost some of our own thanks to you setting those bots loose.” Justin injected steel into his voice. “What the hell have you done?”
Hallie’s eyebrows arched down, and she sharpened her tone to match his. “You think I wanted to have to do that? I didn’t have a choice. I did what I had to do. And now it’s done.”
[Yeah…] Keontae said. [And if we ever get out of here, so are we.]
Epilogue
Twenty of ACM’s soldiers never made it to that restaurant. Instead, they followed Vesh’s signal down into the sewers under the city.
The overwhelming stink of sewage almost turned them back, but Admiral Sever had given them orders to find Vesh no matter what, so they had to comply.
But when they got there, they found only brown, ankle-high water and a pile of concrete rubble that had to weigh more than a ton, easily.
“C’mon,” the ranking soldier, a corporal, said. “We’re done here.”
“But he’s buried under there,” another protested. “Shouldn’t we try to dig him out?”
“Probably cost the company a fortune to do what they did to him,” another said. “Did you get a chance to see him?”
“You two wanna slog through the shit to try to get him out, be my guest,” the corporal said. “He’s dead anyway, like the rest of ’em down here. No point anymore. Corporate’s gonna have to write this off as a loss, same as they’ll do with the Avarice and any of our asses that don’t make it home. Now let’s get moving. We’re supposed to rendezvous with the admiral ASAP.”
“I guess he’s right,” one of the soldiers said. “Not much we can do here.”
“Yeah,” another one said. “Let’s go.”
As they started to walk away, careful to avoid the sewage creeping ever so steadily outward, the pile of debris shifted.
They turned back. The sound had been unmistakable… and they couldn’t have all imagined it at the same time… could they?
Then it shifted again.
Had their eyes deceived them, too? No. Impossible…
But was it more impossible than the alternative? That this thing had somehow… survived?
The concrete continued to shift and move, little by little. Several of the soldiers rushed forward, apathetic to the waste now clinging to their boots, and they began stripping away whatever rubble and debris they could.
Then the rest of the pile burst upward and outward, flinging chunks of concrete and asphalt in every direction. The soldiers staggered back, unable to avoid stepping in the pond of filth around them as concrete dust plumed into the air.
When it cleared, a lone figure stood before them, caked in sewage and concrete dust. Patches of his violet skin were visible even despite his foul coating, and his black eyes burned with the energy of twin stars.
Vesh was alive.
And he was pissed.
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About Ben Wolf
In 7th grade, I saw the movie "Congo." It was so bad, I wrote a parody of it set in Australia that featured killer kangaroos. So began my writing career.
I write stories that question the boundaries of morality, faith, justice, and interpersonal relationships. And I do it with action, explosions, and sword-fights.
I’ve spoken at 50+ writers conferences and multiple comic cons nationwide. When not writing, I occasionally choke people in Brazilian jiujitsu. I live in the Midwest with my gorgeous wife, our kids, and our cat, Marco.
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