Extinction Plague: Matt Kearns 4

by Greig Beck

“Proceed,” Lana replied.

  The technician lifted the top from the bottle exposing the small eyedropper. She placed a single drop of the solution on the front of the creature’s thorax.

  It tried to swivel its head downwards, its tongue continuing to dart out, but the technicians took a step back. Lana noted the time, and then swiveled the cameras for a close-up.

  “Solution administered at exactly eight hundred hours.”

  Lana zoomed in to amplify the spot and a single drop of clear fluid could be seen on the dark carapace.

  The group watched and waited. And waited. But there was nothing.

  Hammerson folded his arms, and after another moment spoke over his shoulder. “Not enough?”

  “A single spore should be enough. Unfortunately we can’t get a microscopic shot from out here,” Lana said.

  “How long?” Matt asked.

  Lana shrugged. “Another minute, another hour, several hours? Impossible to say. We just need to be –”

  “Look.” Matt pointed to the close-up image on the monitor.

  The tiny bubble of fluid on the front of the creature’s thorax had turned milky.

  “Is that a chemical reaction?” Matt asked.

  “No, I think that is an explosion of new fungal spores, the stuff is germinating, and hopefully beginning to ingest the silicoid’s armor.” Lana grinned. “I think it’s growing.”

  As they watched the small drop transformed to an almost solid blob. And then it began branching out. First one, then two, then more tendrils snaked out to adhere to the creature’s silicon exoskeleton.

  One of the branches thickened, and then began to form another blob, that in turn started to branch out as well.

  In a few more seconds, the silicoid started to thrash as the infected area opened a hole in the thorax. The fungus had obviously now spread internally, and the creature vibrated as if in a fit or from extreme pain.

  “Yeah, that’s it, suffer, you sonofabitch.” Klara seethed. “Burn, baby, burn.”

  The medical table jumped and bucked and then after another few moments the creature slumped and became immobile.

  “Is it …?” Hammerson walked forward.

  The silicoid sagged even more, and finally began to come apart.

  “Holy shit,” Matt said.

  The head fell away and when it hit the floor it exploded open like an overripe pumpkin. Inside was nothing but cobwebby material that must have been the fungal threads. The remaining thorax, abdomen and limbs continued to degrade and also fall to the floor.

  Lana checked a timer. “Total elapsed time from introduction of fungus to full degradation of morphology, was two minutes, three seconds.” Lana looked up and nodded. “Not bad.” She raised an eyebrow to Jack Hammerson. “And in answer to your question, yes, it is dead.”

  Hammerson nodded once. “I’d say that was a successful test.”

  “Indeed.” Matt grinned. “What’s next?”

  Lana was busy furiously typing some notes into her project folder, and talked over her shoulder. “The good news is we now know that the fungus is viable and works against the silicoids.”

  In the containment room there looked to be smoke in the air. “There’s millions of free-floating spores in there, so it’ll spread within a community.” She made some more notes. “But that leaves broader dispersal issue requirements. We need to determine a way to spread it to the horde quickly.”

  Lana lifted her face to the second room. The creature there stared back with a baleful gaze from eyes that conveyed a cunning intelligence. It became aware of them watching, and began to struggle even harder.

  “By now there are possibly hundreds of thousands – maybe even millions – of these creatures moving in separate swarms all over the globe. They’re like an army that is almost impossible to stop.”

  Hammerson grunted. “We need a fast takedown. If these things get into the big cities, we can’t exactly vaporize them, or the citizens. And evacuating a major city means millions of people on the move.”

  “And on the move to where?” Matt asked. “Sooner or later, we’d all end up with our backs to the ocean.”

  “Exactly.” Hammerson agreed.

  “So, we need to do a wide-area test dispersal.” Lana sighed. “I wish we had more specimens.”

  “Tough enough getting those two. Let’s work with what we’ve got.” Hammerson said. “Start the test.”

  Lana relayed her instructions to the next two lab technicians, and they prepared to enter the second specimen cell. This time one of them carried a silver canister with an aerosol nozzle at the top. Matt noticed that the other technician strapped a sidearm to his waist for either security or moral support.

  As they entered, the creature wriggled again, and then began to thump back and forward against its strapping.

  “Commence test,” Lana said into her microphone.

  The pair closed in on the thing, and paused while it wrestled against its confines for a moment more. The technician with the aerosol lifted it above the silicoid. The creature started to thrash.

  “You sure that thing can’t understand us?” Hammerson asked.

  Matt shrugged. “It could be reacting to the death of its colony partner. Maybe it sensed the distress through the release of some sort of stress pheromones, or they can communicate at a frequency we can’t pick up. The problem is they are so different to us, we have no idea how they communicate, or what information it is sending or receiving.”

  The creature bucked again, furiously, and this time, one of its limbs popped free. It exploded in a blur of fury and bucked and wriggled until another limb was extricated.

  The technicians backed up against the rear wall. One of them drew the firearm, now looking pitiful against the six foot tall silicoid.

  “Goddamn, secure that thing!” Hammerson yelled.

  Before anyone could move, the thing used its razor-sharp claws to sever and tear away the strapping and burst from its confines. It hit the hardened glass like a battering ram, and the entire pane boomed like a gong.

  “Get ’em out of there,” Hammerson ordered.

  Klara and Maddock took up firing positions in front of the group. But Hammerson pushed them aside.

  “Exit, exit!” Lana screamed into the microphone.

  The two technicians backed away, but the sound or movement attracted the silicoid’s attention and it spun to them.

  In the blink of an eye it was upon them. The technician with the gun fired, but for a creature of such significant size and bulk, the silicoid moved amazingly fast, and dodged the projectile. The bullet smacked into the hardened glass in front of the group leaving a star-shaped impact mark.

  With one spiked arm the silicoid swept the shooter aside, and they could see the man’s arm snap like kindling. Then it grabbed the other technician.

  They couldn’t hear the man’s scream, but knew it was probably reverberating within the small room. As they watched, spellbound, the thing’s proboscis bloomed open, displaying a frill of fleshy tentacles and then from its center a spike shot out, smashed through the man’s perspex face shield, and into his face.

  Like some sort of ghastly balloon fast losing gas, the technician’s body physically deflated before their eyes. The head dropped to the side, but inside the hazmat suit, the skull was softening like an emptying sack. The limbs went floppy and the entire frame sagged, and was only being held in place by the glistening black limbs of the silicoid.

  “Oh god, no.” Matt backed up.

  The technician’s mask fell free showing the face, and the man’s eyes rolled pitifully toward them in the flattening skull.

  Matt grimaced, because the facial muscles were still trying to work and in the man’s expression was a plea for help. The tongue lolled out and fluttered, maybe in a final attempt at forming words before the entire mass was dropped at the silicoid’s multiple feet.

  The silicoid backed up again, and then it surged toward them. This time circular impact cracks
appeared in the glass around the spot weakened by the bullet impact.

  “It’ll come through next time,” Matt said, feeling a shiver of fear up his spine.

  From behind, the technician who had been knocked down dragged himself with one arm to the dropped aerosol canister. He snatched it up and pointed it – a fine mist began to fill the room.

  The silicoid spun as the room filled with the fungal mist. It launched itself at the prone man, and spiked limbs shot out, stabbing and tearing his body to pieces.

  “Take it down!” Hammerson yelled, and Maddock and Klara went to enter the sealed room.

  “Wait.” Lana stood in front of them, holding up a hand. “Look.”

  The silicoid slowed and then suddenly hunched over. The glossy black shine of its silicon carapace started to become covered in a fine spidery mesh. The monstrous creature froze, stiffened, and its body turned the color of clay.

  Then it just disintegrated into fine sand. There was silence for several seconds as everyone continued to stare.

  “Those poor bastards,” Hammerson said and walked toward the cracked glass.

  “And, as we thought, that’s probably why there is nothing in the fossil record of these things.” Lana got to her feet and slowly approached the glass. “They degrade back to the chemical components; in this case, pure silica.”

  “Get those bodies out of there.” Hammerson turned from the glass. “How long until we have enough of the fungi for a field test?”

  Lana raised her eyebrows. “The good thing about fungi is it exponentially germinates – one becomes two, two to four, four to eight, and so on. We already have good stocks, but give me twelve hours, and you’ll have enough to cover several hundred square miles.”

  “That’s good,” Hammerson said. “But we need enough to cover the planet.” He headed for the door. “I’m going to speak to General Chilton, and prepare for a dispersal field test.” He paused at the door. “It’s also time we gave a few other countries some good news.”

  Lana nodded.

  “Well done, doctor.” Hammerson’s eyes were deadpan. “But you only have eight hours.”

  CHAPTER 44

  The Atlantic Ocean, five miles east of New York Bay

  Captain Yakovlev held the field glasses to his eyes. The sea mist still cloaked much of the land in the distance, but he could just make out the tops of the huge rising edifices of the New York towers.

  Yakovlev didn’t know exactly what he was transporting, but his voyage was shrouded in mystery and he knew the shipping manifest claiming they had farm machinery was false.

  The captain thought himself a good man, and patriotic, and was happy to take risks if Mother Russia called on him to do so. But still, given the focus on the spreading plague in the world right now, he didn’t think he was bringing anything that was going to please the American authorities.

  He had five miles of open water still to cross and then he’d be in the high traffic zone. The New York Harbor was at the mouth of the Hudson River where it emptied into New York Bay, and its wide welcoming smile drew him onwards. He could already smell the change in the air and he now detected car exhaust, oil and garbage.

  This harbor was one of the largest oil-importing ports in the nation. It was modern and mighty, but it was also vulnerable.

  The radio buzzed and the first mate answered it, spoke in muted tones, and then disconnected. He turned.

  “They’re coming,” he said.

  Yakovlev nodded.

  Exactly to plan, there was a boat coming to pick them up and take him and the rest of the crew off. His ship, the Illiansk, would then sail on into the harbor on autopilot. Perhaps the port authorities would board it in time and slow its approach before it collided with another vessel, or perhaps they wouldn’t, and then it would run aground somewhere on one of the shorelines he still couldn’t see in the far distance.

  He hoped his cargo wasn’t a bomb, but his gut told him it was nothing good. He pushed the thoughts down, as his task was to point the Illiansk and then leave everything else to fate.

  He had been instructed not to go into the hold and examine the cargo. His role was coming to an end, and whatever was onboard was primed to do the rest itself.

  CHAPTER 45

  Schneider stared, his eyes wide as he struggled to keep the elation he felt growing in his stomach from bursting out in dance or song.

  They had aerosolized the formula and administered it to the specimens. The creatures had immediately slowed, become confused, and then stopped moving altogether. No amount of stimuli could then rouse them.

  He turned to Verinko. “And so, we have complete control.”

  “It is amazing.” Verinko breathed.

  “I believe that any more of the substance will kill them, and any less will slow them down to a form of somnambulistic state. But this amount puts them into a full hibernation state.”

  Schneider bent to lift his wooden case. “Now we go in to examine them.”

  Verinko felt a moment of panic. “I think I will wait outside to monitor the test. But you can enter with the technical team.”

  “Fine.” Schneider didn’t need the dolt anymore anyway. A few last checks, and then he’d be gone. The Russians could play around with the formula residue, but they’d never be able to recreate it.

  He waited impatiently as the team prepared to enter, and then followed them. According to his translations from the stones the creatures were now open to being controlled and he wanted to ensure they were imprinted by his image and scent.

  Once inside their chamber, he placed his case on a tabletop, and unclipped it, opening it a fraction. Inside he saw the half-lidded eyes on the magnificent face and he was sure the mouth was curved up in a smile.

  Schneider turned and clapped his hands together. He left the case open so his Führer could watch as his secret weapon and his success finally germinated.

  *

  Colonel Nadi Borishenko took the call as he sat before the satellite images of New York. He had arranged for the Kondor satellite system to be moved to a complementary horizon so he could watch the Illiansk as it steamed into the Hudson River mouth to deliver the silachnid swarm.

  “Hello?”

  “Colonel, we have an urgent problem.” Doctor Mikhail Verinko’s voice was high with agitation.

  “Calm down, be clear, and be quick.” Borishenko was in no mood for any frivolous interruptions right now.

  “They’ve grown again. They’re big now … very big.” Verinko made a noise that could have been a sob. “They tricked us.”

  Borishenko frowned and turned away from his satellite screen. “Are you drunk? What do you mean they tricked you?”

  “Yes, no, not drunk. But yes, they fooled us all. Schneider’s formula, we thought it rendered them placid or inert. But they were only pretending to be asleep when the German and the technicians entered the chamber.” Verinko gulped air. “Please, sir, can you come to the laboratory?”

  “No.” Borishenko knew that the research labs for special weapons were several levels below his building, but he had no interest now that his own project was nearing a crucial phase. “I’m very busy.”

  “Please, this is … vital!” Verinko yelled. And then softer: “Your project may fail.”

  “Volloch!” Borishenko bared his teeth, and glared at the receiver for a moment. He put it back to his ear. “I’m coming, but if you waste my time, it’ll be your head.” He slammed the phone down.

  He headed for the secure elevator, and pressed his thumb to the small pad. He had been happy to take that stupid German’s money, and his offer of some sort of process to keep the silachnids under control, but if he had caused them a problem, he’d find himself in a gulag by day’s end.

  In a few seconds the steel door opened and he selected “Sub-basement 4”. The silent elevator took him down in seconds, and the door shushed opened. He was met by a highly disturbed and ashen-faced scientist.

  Overhead, red lights turned slow
ly in a silent blaring alarm. Borishenko had never seen a man look so physically ill as Verinko did now.

  The little man grabbed Borishenko’s elbow and physically dragged him down the corridor toward the containment tanks. Overhead, the red lights continued to turn, like police cars, and he thought he could smell something strangely metallic.

  Verinko tried to increase his speed and tugged harder.

  “Release me, fool.” Borishenko ripped his arm out of the scientist’s grip, but Verinko’s fingers picked at his sleeve and then he turned to wave him on.

  “Just here, just here … please, Colonel.” He walked backwards his hands pressed together as though praying.

  “Ach.” Borishenko quickly glanced at his watch and then followed.

  In another few seconds they stood before the containment testing facility. Borishenko knew that, due to the growth of the creatures, they had separated a lot of the swarms, plus many had been sent on the Illiansk mission. So each secured chamber now held only half-a-dozen of the monstrosities.

  Borishenko halted, looking in at them now. Their eyes were far too knowing, and human. And the way they moved was not like a normal creature’s movement – not insectoid or mammalian, but more sinuous and cunning. He felt revulsion for them. They were alien, grotesque, and made all the more terrifying by their size.

  “My team went in with the German, Schneider. Five of them: Schneider, two technicians, and two guards. The creatures seemed to have been made dormant by Schneider’s aerosolized solution. That’s what we thought, and that’s what the German told us, that his formula would render them docile.” Verinko turned to him. “Until they were all inside and the door shut.”

  Borishenko stared in through the glass. He’d already seen what the things could do but the scene inside was an image straight from hell. Three of the people who had gone in had been consumed, and their bodies lay like empty suits on the ground. The creatures stood over them, like warriors, staring back at Borishenko through the glass. In their human-like gaze, there was a hint of triumph and perhaps even amusement. The two surviving human beings were obscured but Borishenko could see they had their helmets removed – either they had taken them off, or the creatures had.