by JT Sawyer
Porter swiveled his head back towards Reisner. “I’ve been wondering the same thing—I think it was a test. She was probably watching how we attacked, what our team tactics or individual strategies were so she could file it away for later.”
“This is a fuckin’ mutant freak you’re talking about,” said Blake. “Not a chess player.”
“You’ve seen the way they move—it’s all very orchestrated,” said Reisner. “They attack with intention and focus, but she’s always the guiding hand.”
“Remember how they thwarted my attempt to get away in that vehicle I hotwired?” said Porter. “The alpha could have killed us there too, and she didn’t. Instead they just destroyed our ride.”
“She’s kept us here for a reason,” said Reisner. “I’m just not sure what it is yet.”
“When we were back at the NSA building after we first arrived here and got into that battle near the helo, the drones were sure as shit hell-bent on killing us,” said Nash. “Something’s changed since then.”
Reisner gave Nash a sideways glance while nodding. “Food, family, territory, or reproduction,” muttered Reisner. “Something Selene told me before in her lab on the Reagan—she said animals the world over are all driven by the same four primal impulses that enable the survival of their species.” He leaned forward, his eyes searching the space between the floor tiles as if probing into the ground below. “The drones could have killed us in the streets and devoured us, but they didn’t, so that rules out food, and the alpha sure as hell wasn’t interested in preserving her own tribe, given how many she was willing to expend in the alley and back at the NSA building. There’s no shortage of creatures in this city, given the former human population.”
“Then that leaves territory and reproduction, and we can probably—hopefully—rule out the latter,” said Porter.
“So she’s what—trying to branch out more around the city?” said Blake.
“Or it’s none of those, and she’s just using us as guinea pigs to see how we fight and learn from our weaknesses,” said Reisner. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this since I had that first encounter with the alpha on Jebwe Island in the Pacific and then had a look at the alpha that Ivins and I captured for Selene when we were attached to the Reagan.” Reisner leaned forward on his knees, his hands weaving a picture as he continued to speak. “Let’s say that the alpha here controls the drones for this region—her reach only extending so far—maybe a few miles or a few hundred miles, who knows. But what if she is in communication somehow with the other alphas?”
Nash, Porter, and Blake all careened their heads towards Reisner. “Then what she’s learning from us here gets transmitted to the other alphas and vice-versa,” said Nash. “Maybe that’s why this one seems so much smarter than the first one we saw on Jebwe Island—her experience base has increased from all the other alphas feeding information to each other. That would mean their knowledge of their enemies is increasing exponentially.”
“This is bullshit,” said Blake. “I mean, I hear what you’re sayin’ and all, but these are fucking animals that eat people.”
“Only certain people, while they capture others like you for the alphas to drain,” said Porter. “There’s a hierarchy to them, and the alphas, like that female out there, are becoming more successful predators with each encounter they survive with our species. The battles that are going on around our country—even around the world, maybe—are all being relayed through the alphas.” Porter stopped talking, his eyes widening at his own words. “Jesus.”
“So, if they are just going to study us for now until we’ve outlived our usefulness, then we should continue pushing to the west while we can,” said Reisner, who stood up, grabbing his AR. He removed the magazine in his rifle and replaced it with a new one, realizing it was the last full magazine he had left. “After this, I’m down to my Glock and four pistol mags.” He regretted saying it aloud, and hoped they would be out of this city long before the last round flew downrange.
Chapter 10
Two hours into their flight north towards L.A., Ivins kept looking over to his right in the direction beyond Connelly, who was seated beside him. After the fifth pensive stare, she put down the street map of Los Angeles and looked at him.
“Something out there we should be searching for?”
He didn’t respond, his lips going flat as he resumed staring ahead.
She scanned the knobby terrain below, which was comprised of islands of boulder piles interspersed with open desert laced with the occasional Joshua tree. Every now and then she’d see a small shack or adobe home situated down a long dirt road, but it was otherwise a bleak landscape.
A few minutes later, Ivins banked to the right and proceeded towards a cluster of large trees near a vertical water tanker beside a tiny house.
“Something catch your eye?” she said.
“If you need to be in the loop, I’ll let you know,” said Ivins, his voice gravelly. He didn’t feel like explaining himself to anyone right now. He knew he was as sleep-deprived as she and Pacelle were, and he was still grieving the loss of two of his men from the earlier battle in L.A., but he didn’t care to divulge his plans at this moment. He was too close to an answer that had gnawed at him for over a week, and he needed to know.
As they neared the house, he circled then finally set the helicopter down in a clearing sixty feet from the back of the structure.
“Pacelle, you can stay here. Connelly and I will head inside. From the lack of tracks in the sand, this place looks like it hasn’t been used in a while, but all the same, keep your eyes peeled.”
“Is this you keeping me in the loop—what are we walking into here?”
He powered down the helicopter then grabbed the MK12 rifle behind his seat, racking the slide forcefully. His eyes darted around the back side of the house as he ground his molars.
“Just an old winter home built back in the fifties by my…my father-in-law. Just watch my six, alright. This whole thing won’t take more than ten minutes, and we’ll still be on track with our ETA in Los Angeles.”
He climbed out of the helicopter, holding his rifle at a low-ready then walking slowly towards the back porch. An old wooden glider was creaking as it swung in the breeze, and several of the overgrown branches from the cottonwood tree dragged their skeletal fingers along the roof.
He moved to the right, heading towards a single detached garage and peering inside after brushing the sleeve of his forearm across the dusty window. Staring inside, his mouth hung open and his grip tightened around his rifle. Ivins felt a deep pang of fear welling up inside his gut, and he fought to keep it under control.
He rushed towards the side door, jerking on the handle then finally stepping back and slamming his boot into the thin surface until it nearly broke off its hinges. After clearing the room, he entered and raced to the driver’s-side door of the blue Ford Explorer, yanking it open. Ivins slid his sunglasses up onto his ballcap then narrowed his eyes as he scanned the interior.
He glided his fingers along the steering wheel, his lower lip trembling. Ivins tilted his head up, his nostrils flaring as he tried to draw in every detail from his surroundings. He saw an elementary school badge on the floor of the passenger’s side and leaned in to grab it. When his eyes floated over the picture of the blond-haired girl, he choked on his breath. His eyes watered, sending teardrops down his dusty cheeks. He pressed the photo to his lips then lowered his head. A few seconds later, Ivins wiped his glove across his eyes then tucked the ID card in his vest pocket. He pulled away and returned to the entrance, where Connelly was watching the outside. Ivins stepped under the eaves then knelt down, examining the faint outline of several footprints in the sand.
“They were here—they made it out of San Diego.” He let out a weighted exhale then looked at the house to the right, fearing what he would find inside.
“Who was here?”
He didn’t look at her, just shot up and kept moving towards the ho
use. “My wife and daughter. That’s their vehicle in the garage. This place used to be our getaway from the city when I was home. It’s been in her family for over sixty years. I figured she might have made a run for this spot once things got bad in San Diego.”
He saw another set of old tire tracks leading away from the front of the house, and wondered who it belonged to. Ivins turned his attention to the house, dreading what he might find inside. They should have come out already. Would his family be dead, having taken their own lives after succumbing to the virus, or were they the victims of marauders who drove in here one night and— He forced away the thoughts. All he knew was that while he was deployed during the pandemic, his wife and daughter were left to fend for themselves. He balled his fists as he willed his feet forward. I should have been here for you. I’m always away fighting for my country while my family comes last.
His boots felt like they were filled with lead as he trudged up the wooden steps to the front porch. Ivins heard the voice of a little girl singing as he recalled the happy weekends he and his family had spent here last spring. Then the singing stopped, and all he heard was the wind in the trees, reminding him of how the world had changed in an instant while he was three thousand miles away near Taiwan, unable to help the people he loved most.
The door was slightly ajar, and he pushed it the rest of the way open with the barrel of his rifle. The talcum-like layer of dust on the floorboards only showed the diminutive tracks of a mouse. He moved inside, the hope in his soul eroding a little more with each empty room he examined.
There was a discarded trash heap of empty water bottles and canned beans lying in the corner of the kitchen along with a note on the table. He lifted the fist-sized chunk of sandstone holding it down and held the paper up to his face, staring at the familiar handwriting of his wife, and the date at the top, which indicated it was just three days ago.
Tom, if you find this note, Cassie and I along with six other survivors are heading east to find Ravens Keep. Rumors on the shortwave radio indicate it’s a sanctuary in the desert somewhere on the Arizona-California border. God help us if we’re wrong. We love you so much.
Kelly
Ivins ran his eyes over her name a few times, seeing her slender fingers holding the pen that wrote these words. He methodically folded the piece of paper like it was sacred parchment from another era, then carefully slid it into his pocket, letting his hand linger for a moment.
“Maybe they’re still alive,” said Connelly, who had seen part of the message. “They made it out of the city to here—that’s quite a feat.” She looked around the kitchen, her eyes floating over the dusty counter tops, then she lowered her head. “I wish I knew what happened to my brothers and dad back East. Not sure I’ll ever…” She cleared her throat then rubbed the back of her neck.
“War is always about chaos and uncertainty, but then your deployment eventually ends and you get to go back home to the ones you love—not this time, it seems.”
She took a step closer, patting her fist on his arm. “You’ve got a lead on where they are headed. That has to mean something—you coming back this way and finding that note. There’s still hope.”
He slowly nodded, pulling the bill of his cap down further on his head then walking towards the back door. “Let’s get to L.A.” He lingered for a moment as he stared out the window, then glanced back at Connelly. “Thanks for watching my six.”
Chapter 11
The alpha creature lapped up the last of the clear fluid she had just drained from the body of a young woman, then kicked the limp figure over on its back. The rope-like parasite retreated back inside the alpha’s mouth, and she walked down the damp tunnel towards the opening that led into the main hub, where a dozen other corridors converged. Soon she would have what she needed—not for herself but for her brood. They had suffered considerable loss and hardship living in the maze of damp tunnels in the past week. Instinctively it had seemed like the ideal place to retreat during the early days, but in the ensuing time, she had watched too many of her brood perish in violent floods from storms or get hopelessly lost in the jumble of tunnel networks. There had to be another place that was safer.
And then the solution had presented itself in a moment of crystal clarity. It came from her own insight coupled with an awakening happening within others like her throughout the world as a mind greater than all of theirs combined sprang forth from a distant region to the east. It was like the power of a thousand suns illuminating in her mind. Suddenly, she was connected to others with her abilities, their thoughts, experiences, and sufferings cast before her and hers back to them. She saw distant battles unfolding in the mountains, deserts, cities, and across oceans. And through it all, a constant voice kept streaming forth into her mind from another place—a commanding presence who gave her direction. In each case, the resulting victories of her kind were filled with pleasure, while the catastrophic defeats were relayed in guttural anguish as her own kind was extinguished. Even from those defeats there were things that were collectively catalogued to prevent further loss of life.
In one coastal region, thousands of their brood were destroyed in a microsecond by an assaulting force of Others that came in from the sea; in a northern city covered in snow, three creatures like her and legions of their brood were decimated with a single pass of soaring objects in the sky who rained down a fiery death; while in another area somewhere to her east there had been victory after the alpha male and its underlings had retreated inside a nuclear site beside two massive cylindrical structures that bellowed out gray smoke.
The flow of experience rolled in in waves, and at first she found the jumbled images and voices in her head to be overwhelming until she learned to squelch them to controllable levels.
Now, as she stood over the unconscious body of a young Other—those who sought to destroy her and her kind—she knew what had to be done. It had already been employed amongst creatures like her, and she knew it was the key to obtaining complete dominion over this region.
The gangly beast beneath her was beginning to squirm; the blow she had sent across its head with her open hand had stunned it long enough for her to get into position. She bent over, examining its smooth, pale skin and tender lips. She stared with curiosity at a large brown mole on the right cheek, near the jawline. She dragged a soiled finger across its surface, then pressed on the brown image as if it would reveal something to her. Losing interest, she centered her gaze upon the vertebrae on its neck. Normally, her desire to feast upon the clear liquid from the back was overwhelming, and she had rarely taken the time to examine the full breadth of the creatures she preyed upon. She extended her lithe arm forward, brushing the scrawny creature’s black hair aside. She saw how the area around the throat was pulsating with fluid of another kind. She stroked its flesh, her own breath quickening as she felt a rope-thick parasite flicker its head out from her mouth. If she hadn’t recently fed, she would have delighted in draining this delicate Other, but she needed him for something else. She retracted her spindly arm and removed a small egg sac attached to the side of the parasite’s body, which was now fully extended out a foot from her lips. She gently held the bulbous, clear mass between her fingers then positioned the mouth of the frail creature between her feet, dropping in the gyrating cluster then pressing his lower jaw closed.
The alpha stood up and moved away from the groaning figure, then looked at her brood lining the wall beside her as she emitted a faint shrill sound. Two of them moved forward and retrieved the curled Other on the ground, raising him up over their shoulders and carrying him out of the room.
The alpha took several deep breaths, the sinuous parasite fluttering about her lips for a second before retreating back inside her mouth. She looked around at the damp, moldy walls of the concrete chamber and hoped that she and her brood would soon have another place to call home.
Chapter 12
The hum of rotor wash filled the cabin of the Blackhawk. Other than brief introductions b
efore boarding, Runa hadn’t spoken much to the six Special Forces soldiers sitting around him. He knew the type well and had commanded joint special operations units overseas, but never thought he’d be on a search mission for a mysterious agency vessel off the coast of Florida. He had filled in Sgt. Major Carlos Martinez and the other men on his background and the agency ship they were heading to, leaving nothing out of the short briefing. He needed to start out on solid footing with these guys, and there was no congressional committee to answer to or expect blowback from, so he laid out all the pertinent details surrounding Siegel and Hayes’ nefarious undertakings. After their initial shock, the men seemed relieved at his candor, and he knew it was a necessary first step to fostering good relations with guys he might be spending a lot of time with in the foreseeable future now that MacDill was his home.
He reflected back on a briefing with Reisner and his team nearly ten days ago, before they departed on a similar operation to the South China Sea. Only more questions than answers had emerged from that ill-fated mission, and two of Reisner’s team were dead shortly after boarding the Atropos. God, how on earth did we ever get to this point? He thought about one of the grief counselors at Langley and how they would help agents cope after a particularly brutal mission. He wondered what they would do now to help alleviate the species-wide depression and dread after watching their own civilization crumble before their eyes. No one except our early human ancestors have ever faced a large-scale cataclysmic event that threatened the survival of the entire race and now, at our technological and intellectual apex, we have nearly been snuffed out by these demonic creatures. He shook his head, looking out at the whitecaps below. I just hope that Operation Raptor can turn things around.
