by Jake Bible
Metal shreds all around him, and Alvarez can feel the blood start to flow as he’s nicked across his neck, arms, and sides by trash can shrapnel. Bright pain fills his ribs, and he looks down to see a large shard of metal sticking out from his left side.
“Fuckers!” Alvarez yells as he rolls from the trash cans, comes up on one knee, and puts a bullet between each of the men’s eyes. Their heads explode, and their bodies crumple to the pavement just as they reach the sidewalk.
Alvarez jumps up, gasping at the pain in his side, and runs back towards the street, his pistol barking loudly. Eight more men, including the first man, are spraying his team with automatic gunfire. The agents’ bodies dance and shudder as they are ripped apart by hundreds of bullets. Alvarez is able to drop two men before his pistol clicks empty once again. He reaches for a fresh magazine but doesn’t have time to reload as the men turn on him.
“Am I in your way now, asshole?” the first man yells as Alvarez sprints for cover behind a white cargo van. “Where ya going Secret Service man? I told you to get out into the street, not hide behind a van!”
“Fuck you!” Alvarez yells as he pulls back the slide on his pistol. The instant he does he hears the sound and knows he’s in trouble. “Fuck.”
He tries to pull the slide back again, but the chamber is jammed, and he tucks the pistol into its holster and then pulls a snub nose .38 from the holster on his ankle. Alvarez takes a deep breath, counts to three, then spins out from the van and pulls the trigger. He fires three times before he stops and just stands there, his mouth wide open and eyes nearly bugging from his face.
Far above the street, three of the stingray creatures hover as they drop egg after egg down onto the attackers. Alvarez is so stunned that he barely gets it together enough to glance up at the sky above himself. Luckily, he does so in time and is able to dodge the six eggs that fall right for him. The eggs explode on impact and goo flies everywhere. The street is filled with the stench of ammonia and the screams of the men that are covered in egg goo.
Alvarez shoots off the lock to the back of the cargo van, yanks open the back door, and jumps inside just as several more eggs hit the asphalt where he had been standing. The stink of ammonia wafts into the van, and Alvarez chokes and gags as he struggles to take shallow breaths through his nose.
In just a few seconds the screaming in the street stops, and Alvarez counts to thirty before he cautiously leans out of the back of the van and looks up into the sky. The stingrays have undulated their way along and are four blocks away. Alvarez then focuses back on the street and raises his pistol as he steps from the van and whips about the side, finger on the trigger and ready to fire.
He lowers his pistol as he sees the horror before him.
The attackers are nothing but lumps of melted flesh and clothing, their bodies half dissolved by the egg goo. Several more eggs have burst open and litter the street, their ooze eating at the asphalt.
“Jesus,” Alvarez says as he covers his mouth and nose with his arm and walks towards the melting men. He gets as close as he can without being overwhelmed by the ammonia fumes, then stops. “That’s one way to find justice.”
Alvarez turns to the bodies of his team and hurries over to the closest man. He checks for a pulse, doesn’t find one, and then systematically moves from one body to the next until he confirms that all of his men are dead.
“Fuck!” he shouts, and sits down heavily. “FUCK!”
He stares at the split open eggs and the ooze for a few seconds, then places his .38 back in its holster and pulls out his other pistol. It takes him a few minutes to work out the jam, but he gets it taken care of and starts to stand up when he notices movement in front of him.
“What the hell?” he mutters as one of the piles of ooze starts to shake and thrash about.
Alvarez cautiously moves forward, his pistol out and aimed at the ooze. The pile keeps shaking, and Alvarez is almost to it when the other piles start to move as well. Then the egg shells begin to shiver and flop about. Alvarez knows he’s in way over his head and retreats back to the sidewalk. The piles shake like nasty Jell-O for a minute, then freeze while the egg shells slowly creep up over them, one by one, and completely envelope each of pile.
“Not good,” Alvarez whispers as he holsters his pistol and turns to run.
He gets halfway down the block before he hears what can only loosely be described as men screaming. Alvarez risks a glance over his shoulder, and instantly wishes he hadn’t. The egg wrapped piles of ooze have stood up and taken shape.
Human shape.
Three
Dr. Hall holds the syringe to the IV coupling, but hesitates as he looks down on the emaciated woman in the hospital bed that’s been placed in the center of the living room. He glances over at Thomas and frowns.
“If I give this to her, then she’ll be too out of it to answer my questions,” Dr. Hall says. “I need to know if she has a direct line to the White House’s subterranean situation room.”
“I just need my mom not to be in pain, man,” Thomas says, nodding at the syringe in Dr. Hall’s hand. “If you won’t do it, then I will. You’ve already got the right amount in there and the air bubbles out, right? I know how to do the rest.”
“Well, it’s not that simple,” Dr. Hall says. “If you press too fast, then the dosage won’t be right. If you press too slow, then the morphine doesn’t… You don’t believe anything I’m saying, do you?”
“I know when someone’s full of shit, man,” Thomas frowns. “You’re making that shit up so I’ll let you grill my mom. Trust me, man, there’s no direct line to the President in this house.”
“Thomas?” Senator Emily Granger whispers as her eyes flutter open. “Thomas? Why are you still here?”
“Hey, Mom,” Thomas says as he hurries over and pushes past Dr. Hall. He takes his mother’s skeletal hand in his and very gently squeezes it. But even that pressure causes the woman pain. “Sorry.”
“No...it’s fine,” Senator Granger says. Then her eyes catch sight of Dr. Hall and widen slightly. “Thomas? Who is this?”
“Hello, Senator,” Dr. Hall smiles. “I’m Dr. Blane Hall. Your son was kind enough to let me in to talk with you since I am in desperate need of speaking with President Nance. I was hoping you have some way to contact him.”
“Thomas? What is this man talking about?” Senator Granger asks, her voice shaky with pain. “Why would you let him in our house?”
“He knows about the monsters,” Thomas says. “He sounds crazy, but he’s harmless.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say harmless,” Dr. Hall replies. “I was collegiate intramural fencing champion two years running at….”
“I’ll need to see credentials,” Senator Granger interrupts. She grimaces and gasps as a wave of pain overtakes her.
“Mom!” Thomas exclaims then turns on Dr. Hall. “Inject the morphine, asshole! Now, or I kick your ass!”
“Thomas,” Senator Granger scowls. “Watch your language.”
“Sorry,” Thomas says, his eyes shooting daggers at Dr. Hall.
“I’ll inject once I know for certain there’s no way to contact the President from here,” Dr. Hall says.
“My cell phone,” Senator Granger says. “You can use my cell phone. But give it to me first. I’ll have to have the Secret Service confirm your identity and reason for speaking with the President.”
“Uh, there’s no cell phone service, Mom,” Thomas says. “There’s no power at all. Those things took down the grid.”
“Actually, it was a massive EMP that took down the grid,” Dr. Hall corrects. “My guess is most of the country, if not all of it, is down.”
“How can you know that?” Senator Granger asks.
“Because the EMP came from the volcano; I’m sure of it,” Dr. Hall answers. “And if it hit us here, then the radius of the blast would encompass the rest of the US. The country is crippled.”
The sound of automatic gunfire echoes from far off outside t
he brownstone, and Dr. Hall jumps a little.
“You never served, did you, Dr. Hall?” Senator Granger asks.
“No, ma’am,” Dr. Hall replies.
“I can tell,” Senator Granger says, and tries to smile. She glances at her son. “Why didn’t you evacuate with the Morrisons like I told you too?”
“I did, but I came back when the power went out,” Thomas says. “Good thing, because the nurse that was supposed to be here never showed up. You’ve been asleep for hours.”
“Oh,” Senator Granger nods, then gasps at the discomfort from that small movement.
“Give her the morphine,” Thomas growls at Dr. Hall.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Dr. Hall says, and depresses the plunger on the syringe. “There. You should be feeling that any second, Senator Granger.”
“In my closet upstairs,” Senator Granger says, her voice getting weaker. “Thomas, in the safe. There is a key card in an envelope with the Presidential Seal on it. Tear it open and take the key card and the code sheet with you.”
“Take them with me?” Thomas asks. “What do you mean? Where am I going?”
“You need to get to the White House,” Senator Granger says. “The subterranean levels are the safest place in the city. I’d send you to the Capitol Building, but I can guarantee the bunkers there are already locked down tight. Even if you could communicate with anyone down there, I doubt they’d let you in. Selfish bastards.”
The woman shudders and grunts. Her hand gripping her son’s squeezes so hard that all of her knuckles crack. Her eyes roll around in her head, then her lids close for a second before slowly opening.
“Mom? Mom, can you hear me?” Thomas asks.
“Get to the White House,” Senator Granger whispers.
“I’m not leaving you,” Thomas says fiercely. “There’s no way I’m leaving you here alone and going out there with this weirdo!”
“Stay safe,” Senator Granger mutters. “Stay safe.”
She takes a shuddering breath, then holds it for a second. As it rattles free from her lungs her eyes glaze over, and her grip slackens to nothing.
“Mom?” Thomas asks. “Mom? Mom!”
The boy presses his fingers to her neck and gasps.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Hall says.
“You!” Thomas yells, and then leaps at the man. He slams him to the floor and wraps his fingers around Dr. Hall’s throat. “You did this! You gave her too much!”
“I didn’t!” Dr. Hall wheezes. “I only gave her half a dose!”
“You what?” Thomas snaps as he lets go of Dr. Hall and shoves up to his feet. “Only half a dose?”
“I wanted to talk to her,” Dr. Hall says as he rubs his throat, his eyes watching Thomas carefully. “I didn’t give her enough to kill her because I barely gave her enough to cut the pain. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Thomas laughs as he turns and looks at his mother’s body. “Fuck your sorry.”
“For a senator’s son, you sure do curse a lot,” Dr. Hall says as he scoots back a few feet before standing, making sure he’s out of Thomas’s reach.
“My mom was Navy, and my dad was a Marine,” Thomas says.
“Where’s your dad now?” Dr. Hall asks.
“He died when I was younger,” Thomas says. “Kabul.”
“Oh, right, I knew that,” Dr. Hall says. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”
Thomas and the Doctor stand there and stare at each other, neither making a move.
Automatic gunfire erupts again, but then is cut off quickly.
“Doesn’t sound great out there,” Thomas says. “You have more than a kitchen knife with you?”
“No,” Dr. Hall says. “Not that it would matter. I don’t know how to fire a gun.”
“I do,” Thomas says as he finally moves and heads to the stairs. “I’ll get my pistols and ammo. Plus that envelope. Just stay here.”
“The envelope? You’ll help me?” Dr. Hall asks.
“I don’t have much choice,” Thomas says. “My mom just died, asshole. What am I going to do? Sit here forever?”
“No, right, yes, I mean, okay,” Dr. Hall nods. “I just didn’t think you believed me.”
“I don’t,” Thomas says. “My mom didn’t either. But since I’m going to the White House anyway, you might as well come along. If you’re lying, then I’ll let the guards deal with you. If you’re telling the truth, then that makes it easier for me to get inside too.”
“Yeah, yeah, true,” Dr. Hall replies, then takes a deep sniff. “But we still have that gas out there to deal with.”
“Don’t worry,” Thomas says. “I have gear to get us through the gas. This is a senator’s house, plus a military house. We have more bug out bags than we need.”
“Bug out bags?” Dr. Hall asks.
“You’ll see,” Thomas grins. He looks past the Doctor to the still form of his mother. The grin fades quickly. “Just wait here, and don’t fuck with anything.”
“Got ya,” Dr. Hall says, and gives Thomas a thumbs up.
“Whatever,” Thomas scowls.
***
Taylor holds up a gloved fist, and the Team all stop. He points out at the landscape well beyond the mountain ridge they are standing on.
“It’s like an alien world,” Taylor says. “I’d hardly call that Montana anymore.”
“Holy shit,” Kreigel says. “Are those craters? Where’d most of the hills go? And Missoula? Anyone see Missoula?”
“Missoula has left the building,” Toloski frowns. “Not to mention everything else.”
From their vantage point of a couple thousand feet in the air, the Team watches as massive craters in the earth spout geysers of flame and gas. But that is not all that comes from the craters. Creatures, different from the ones they’ve seen before, pull themselves up from the smoldering earth to stand by the craters, their heads lifted to the sky, their mouths open wide.
“Eight legs,” Holt says. “Three heads each. That’s new.”
“They look like giant dog spiders,” Toloski says.
“Dog spiders? Why dogs?” Kreigel asks.
“Cerebus,” Toloski says. “The three headed dog that guards the gates to Hell.”
“Cerberus,” Taylor corrects. “And it guards the gates to Hades, not Hell. Cerberus is Greek mythology, not Christian.”
“Isn’t Hades the same thing as Hell?” Toloski asks.
“Not at all,” Taylor says. “Hades is the underworld where all go once they die. It’s Heaven and Hell rolled into one depending on your afterlife fate.”
“I think we got the Hell fate,” Holt says as he points at the far off monsters.
The things begin to screech in high-pitched voices that sound like an eagle’s cry and a cat in heat. Their necks begin to bulge, and then deflate quickly as each head expels something up into the air. It takes the team a minute to figure out that the dog spiders are puking up the undulating monsters that quickly rise up into the sky and grow three times their original size in a split second.
“Seeing shit like that makes me not even care anymore,” Holt says. “This place is just fucked. Can we go find the front entrance before we get shit on by monsters?”
“Good call,” Taylor says as the undulating stingray monsters start heading their direction. “I could do without an acid egg rain.”
The Team scrambles across the ridge as fast as possible. They get a few hundred yards before Taylor stops them and turns around, his eyes studying the way they just came.
“Do you hear that?” he asks.
“I heard something,” Toloski says. “But I thought it was my suit echoing in my ears. These helmets are shit for stealth.”
“Hold on, I hear it too,” Kreigel says, turning and facing the same way as Taylor. “Like a sliding-crunching sound?”
“Yeah,” Taylor says, his carbine to his shoulder. “Something is following us. Kreigel, you’re with me. Holt and Toloski, hold this position.”
“R
oger,” Holt replies.
“Affirmative,” Toloski says.
“I have point,” Kreigel says.
“Lead on,” Taylor responds.
The two men slowly retrace their steps until they are about a hundred yards from Holt and Toloski. They stop and stare at what they see crawling, walking, and hopping across the mountainside towards them.
“Are you fucking shitting me?” Kreigel gasps. “LT? What the holy fuck are we looking at?”
“That front row looks like squirrels,” Taylor says. “Those others look like rabbits. And is that a...deer?”
“A fucked up deer,” Kreigel says as the two men watch what look like facsimiles of woodland creatures made out of green ooze come at them. “Really fucked up.”
The ooze animals spot the men and pick up the pace, their gel mouths opening and hissing green spit before them. Taylor sights down his carbine and squeezes off two rounds, both hitting the “deer” dead center between the eyes. The thing’s head explodes in a mass of green ooze. Then reforms almost instantly as ooze from its neck grows back into a head.
“No,” Taylor says. “Just fucking no. Fall back. We need to get to the front entrance and inside this bunker pronto.”
“Don’t have a choice,” Kreigel says. “The back entrance is cut off now. I’d rather not sleep out here with Goo Bambi.”
“Get going,” Taylor orders. “We get the others and move ass.”
“Fucking A,” Kreigel says as he slings his carbine, turns, and jogs back to Toloski and Holt.
Taylor watches the things for one second more, then slings his own carbine and follows Kreigel as fast as he can.
***
“Fuck, that stinks!” Lowell exclaims as he and Bolton stand on the edge of a two hundred foot drop that had been the front entrance to the bunker. “Where is all that ammonia coming from?”
Bolton tightens the wet, torn towel around his mouth and nose, and coughs a few times before answering. “Looks like from those things. What the hell are they?”
