by Jake Bible
The world goes dark as she is forced under the surface. Then it truly goes dark as one of Linda’s boots hits her in the temple. Unconsciousness wraps about her like a blanket, welcome and warm.
***
Alvarez and Dr. Hall burst from the rear entrance of the Museum of Natural History, their legs pumping as hard as possible as a menagerie of glowing green animals pursue them down the steps and out onto Constitution Ave.
“Oh, fuck!” Alvarez screams as he grabs Dr. Hall and yanks him to the side just as a massive claw comes down onto the pavement where they had been standing.
The asphalt cracks and crumbles, and the claw is lifted into the air for another attack, but when it comes down again, it doesn’t hit pavement, instead it crushes the back of a glowing lioness. The smaller beast snarls, then bursts open, sending green ooze flying every which way.
An entire pride of ooze lions leap onto the attacking crab monster, taking it down onto the pavement as their green mouths rip into the monster’s carapace.
“Keep going!” Alvarez yells, seeing the look on Dr. Hall’s face. “No time to watch!”
He pulls at the man and yanks him across Constitution Ave. and up 10th St. Dr. Hall glances over his shoulder as the roars of more crab monsters fill the air, joined by the calls and cries of a whole host of ooze creatures. Zebras, rhinos, hippos, bison, elk, moose, deer; all the large cats: tigers, lions, panthers, jaguars, cougars; alligators, giant constrictors, crocodiles, Komodo dragons; wolves, coyotes, jackals.
Dr. Hall snickers as he sees a glowing Galapagos tortoise lumber down the steps. The snicker dries up quickly as the shrieks of a hundred raptors overhead echo down on the two men.
Luckily, the raptors turn their attention on the crab monsters, and not on the two humans stumbling along in an awkward and exhausted sprint around the abandoned cars and debris that fills 10 St.
“Why are the animals attacking the crabs?” Dr. Hall yells.
“Who cares?” Alvarez yells back. “Keep running!”
“I am running!” Dr. Hall replies. “So stop yelling at me to keep running!”
“Then run faster!” Alvarez shouts.
The two men weave through the cars and burst out onto Pennsylvania Ave. Alvarez leads them to the left, and they are both relieved that barely any cars fill the street. Except that once they pass 12th Ave., both looking to their right, and catching a nightmarish glimpse of giant crab monsters fighting off the oozing remnants of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom, they face row after row after row of concrete barricades, leading all the way to the White House’s South Lawn.
“How are we going to get through that?” Dr. Hall snaps.
“Easy,” Alvarez says. “Follow me. These are designed to keep vehicles out, not people. Or, at least, not people that know how to navigate them.”
Alvarez sprints around one barricade, runs to the end of it, and then around a second. Instead of running to the end of that one, he dodges right and quickly slips between two more. Dr. Hall is right on his heels and suddenly sees that the barricades are not set up in a symmetrical pattern, but more in a design of planned chaos.
“If you don’t know how they’re set up, then you’ll get lost in the maze,” Alvarez shouts. “It helps us pursue and capture suspects.”
“I bet,” Dr. Hall says as they get to the last set of barricades. Alvarez stops and places a hand against Dr. Hall’s chest. “What?”
“Just stay still,” Alvarez says.
Several screeches, roars, snarls, yips, and cries from behind them make it nearly impossible for Dr. Hall to stay still as every nerve in his body stands on edge.
“Cordon Bleu,” Alvarez calls out. “Cuttle fish ribbons.”
“Delta five one one six,” a voice from the dark replies.
“Agent Paulo Alvarez,” Alvarez responds. “Niner one one eagle six.”
Dr. Hall hears a scrape to his left, and looks over to see the shape of a man standing there, the shadow of a rifle very obvious.
“Alvarez?” Dr. Hall squeaks.
“I know,” Alvarez says. “Just hang tight, Doctor.”
“We can’t call down and confirm, you know,” the first voice says. “We need a current code.”
“Current code?” Alvarez snaps. “I’ve been gone for less than two days. I gave you the most current code I know.”
“Then you need to turn around and leave,” the voice orders. “I’m sorry, Agent Alvarez, but we have been ordered to only allow in those with current codes.”
“I have codes!” Dr. Hall calls out. “I don’t know how current, but I have codes! Congressional codes! And a key card! You have to let us in!”
“This is Dr. Blane Hall,” Alvarez growls. “I was specifically sent to find the man. Send someone down below, and you can verify. I don’t give two good goddamns if you let me in, but a lot of agents died getting this man here, so you sure as fuck will help me complete my mission and alert the President that the job is done.”
The ground shakes and Alvarez and Dr. Hall look back over their shoulders. The light of a new dawn is cresting in the East, and the slightly pink glow silhouettes the shapes of several crab monsters.
“Looks like Jumanji lost,” Dr. Hall says.
“What the holy fuck are those things?” someone mutters from the barricade.
“Those things are what have been making all the noise,” Alvarez says. “We’ve been running from the fuckers for hours.”
“Dr. Hall, come with us,” the voice says, and a man steps out from the barricade, his rifle trained on Alvarez. “Just Dr. Hall. Once we have confirmation of your credentials, Agent Alvarez, we’ll let you follow.”
“Fair enough,” Alvarez says.
Dr. Hall finds himself yanked back behind the last barricade and pushed up against the concrete.
“Hey!” he snaps as his legs are kicked apart, and he is roughly patted down and frisked. “Whoa there!”
“He’s clean,” a man says, and steps back, letting Dr. Hall turn around. “You want Ricky to take him?”
“No, I have it,” the first voice says.
Dr. Hall looks at the man that matches the voice, but all he sees is body armor and a black face mask under a black helmet. The man looks just like all the others guarding the entrance to the White House’s South Lawn.
The ground shakes even harder, and the roars from the crab monsters fill the air.
“We should hurry,” Dr. Hall says.
“You should hurry!” Alvarez yells.
“See?” Dr. Hall says. “A few little barricades won’t stop those things.”
“We have more than barricades,” a guard says, as he and two others lift RPG launchers to their shoulders.
“Those have electronics in them,” Dr. Hall says. “How are they still working? The EMP should have fried them.”
“Not these,” one guard says.
“Hold the line!” another yells as the crab monsters reach the first set of barricades and easily step over the rows of concrete. “On my mark! Fire!”
Dr. Hall shields his eyes from the sudden flare of the rockets as they shoot from the launchers and fly at the crab monsters. Several explosions rock the early morning, and Dr. Hall stumbles back as a wave of heat hits his face.
Men begin screaming, and Dr. Hall feels hands grab him and start pulling him away from the barricades and towards the White House. He looks over and sees Alvarez, not one of the guards, as more screams fill the air along with way too many roars.
“That didn’t work,” Alvarez says.
Dr. Hall glances over his shoulder to see most of the barricades covered in green ooze and half the guards running about, trying to flick the ooze loose as the goo seeps under their armor and into their bodies. Chunks of broken crab monsters lie everywhere.
“There are so many,” Dr. Hall says.
Alvarez looks back to see all of Pennsylvania Ave filled with the monsters, with more streaming up 15th St.
“Too many,” Alvarez says. �
��Anyone left up here is dead. We have to get below.”
Alvarez steers them across the South Lawn towards the looming shape of the White House, its facade taking on the pink hue of the dawn light.
“On a normal day, I’d say that looks beautiful,” Dr. Hall says.
“I say it does anyway,” Alvarez replies. “Who the fuck knows the next time we get to see anything like that again? Once we get below, our world will be permanently subterranean.”
“Wait—permanently?” Dr. Hall exclaims. “What does that mean?”
“Are you not paying attention, doctor?” Alvarez snaps. “You see what’s happening behind us? We’ll be lucky if they let us down, but I can guarantee they won’t let us back up. Up here is lost. Once the doors to below close, they will be welded shut and reinforced. We can’t risk the President’s life because of a breach.”
“I don’t want to live down there permanently!” Dr. Hall yells as he tries to yank his arm free from Alvarez.
“Tough shit,” Alvarez says. “What you want no longer matters.”
“The hell it doesn’t!” Dr. Hall yells, and manages to get loose.
He doesn’t see Alvarez’s fist coming for his face in time to dodge. Dr. Hall staggers back, then falls onto his ass in the ashy grass of the South Lawn. He wobbles for a second, then his eyes roll up into his head, and he falls over on his side.
“Sorry about that,” Alvarez says as he grabs the man’s feet and starts pulling him towards the White House. He looks down at the soft man he nearly died for in order to get back to the President. “Who am I kidding? I’m not sorry at all. That fucking felt great.”
***
“Sir?” a Secret Service agent says as he approaches the table in the situation room. “Mr. President?”
“What is it, Mike?” President Nance asks.
“Agent Alvarez is up top, sir,” the agent replies. “He has Dr. Hall.”
“Great,” President Nance says. “Something went right for a change.”
“Except that topside is no longer secure, Mr. President,” the agent states. “The creatures are attacking the barricades on the South Lawn, sir. It is highly unadvisable to allow Agent Alvarez and Dr. Hall to enter the lift and come down here. We risk a complete breach of the bunker, sir.”
“He’s right, Mr. President,” Joan says. “If those things are up there, and they get to the White House, then we need to be securing the lift, not opening it.”
“I have to agree with Joan,” Borland says. “It isn’t worth it.”
“We don’t know it isn’t worth it,” President Nance says. “Dr. Hall has new information that he could not tell me before because of the EMP. I didn’t send all of those agents out to find him just so we can lock the door in his face.” He looks at the Secret Service agent. “Open the lift, and get Dr. Hall down here. If you have to, you send every man up there to make sure the lift is secure. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” the agent replies, turning and running from the room with several other agents on his heels.
“You could have just sacrificed us all, sir,” Borland says.
“I don’t think so,” President Nance says. “God may have a cruel streak, but even He wouldn’t drop Dr. Hall in my lap just to destroy us. Have faith, Jeremy. It may be all that gets us through the next few days.”
***
Dr. Burkhorst stands on one side of the thick glass wall while Dr. Probst stands on the other.
“What about your precious quarantine?” Dr. Probst asks.
“You aren’t contaminated,” Dr. Burkhorst states.
“It’s been an hour,” Dr. Probst laughs. “There is no possible quarantine protocol that lasts only an hour.”
“All tests came back negative,” Dr. Burkhorst says. “You show no signs of being affected by the Substance.”
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Probst says. “But what tests? You never ran tests.”
“Actually, Doctor, the second you were put in isolation, the tests began,” Dr. Burkhorst smirks. “It’s one of the perks of this facility.”
Dr. Probst spins about, studying the ceiling and walls of the stark isolation cell she stands in. She sees no sensors or signs of other devices that could have conducted any tests. “Bullshit. Fucking bullshit. You’re messing with me for some reason. What is it?”
“I am not messing with you, Dr. Probst,” Dr. Burkhorst says. “Your tests are clear. I am still waiting on the results from your friends. If they come back negative for contamination, then they will be set free as well. I’m not a dictator, Doctor, just a scientist that takes her job very, very seriously.”
“What exactly is your job?” Dr. Probst asks. “You said you don’t answer to the President. Then who do you answer to?”
“A higher authority,” Dr. Burkhorst smiles.
“Oh, great,” Dr. Probst sighs. “Another religious nut. Just what I need.”
“What? No!” Dr. Burkhorst exclaims. “I mean an authority higher than any single government; one that has been around for a very long time.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dr. Probst asks.
Dr. Burkhorst reaches out and taps at a keypad, and the glass wall slides away. “Come with me, Doctor. Instead of telling you, I’ll show you. It’ll be easier.”
Dr. Probst cautiously steps out of the isolation cell and follows Dr. Burkhorst as the woman turns and leads her through a door and out into a wide, concrete corridor. A golf cart sits there, and Dr. Burkhorst hops into the driver’s seat, then pats the seat next to her.
“Get in,” Dr. Burkhorst says. “It’s too far to walk to.”
Dr. Probst barely has her ass in the seat before Dr. Burkhorst presses down on the accelerator, sending the electric cart zipping down the corridor.
“Where the hell are we?” Dr. Probst asks. “Who built this place?”
“We don’t know for sure who built it,” Dr. Burkhorst replies. “When it was discovered in the fifties, the place consisted of the four levels, but was fairly stark. Over the decades there have been many improvements made, making it more hospitable for the researchers. At one time this place was full of personnel, but no entity, not even the one that I report to, is immune to budget cuts. Especially once the Cold War ended.” She glances over at Dr. Probst. “Amongst other issues that weeded out those not fit for seclusion.”
“So this is military?” Dr. Probst asks, ignoring Dr. Burkhorst’s last ominous statement.
“Not really,” Dr. Burkhorst says. “Although the military liked to think it was. But with a few strategic changes, the military was forced out of the facility and only occupied the bunker topside. A little shuffling of leadership, some new bills signed into place, and even the bunker was abandoned, left to be a forgotten munitions dump. That meant we could do our work without worrying about people looking over our shoulders.”
“What work? Why won’t you give me a straight answer?” Dr. Probst asks.
“Because we don’t have any,” Dr. Burkhorst admits. “No one does. Not China, not Japan, not Australia, Russia, Iceland, Africa, New Zealand, Italy, the Middle East. No one has even gotten close to a clue as to what the Substance is or how the facilities were built.”
Dr. Burkhorst points at the walls as they zip by.
“That’s not concrete,” Dr. Burkhorst says. “It looks like it, but it’s not. No clue what it is. Can’t even chip the stuff to take a sample. Best anyone has been able to do is swab some molecules, but they were inconclusive, to say the least.”
“Swab some molecules?” Dr. Probst laughs. “You have got to be joking.”
“I am not known for my sense of humor, Doctor,” Dr. Burkhorst says as they approach a set of massive steel doors. “Those we built. Just to keep the viewing area from being open.”
“The viewing area?” Dr. Probst asks, but lets the question drop as Dr. Burkhorst stops the cart and steps out.
The woman walks over to yet another key pad and enters a code. Yellow lights begin t
o flash and a claxon blares, although not as loud as the purge shaft claxons.
“What happened topside?” Dr. Probst calls out as she steps from the cart also. “Did you purge the bunker?”
“We did,” Dr. Burkhorst replies. “If anything was up there, it is now ash. Even that thing that followed you down. Or that’s the theory.”
“You don’t know for sure?” Dr. Probst asks. “Don’t you have ways to check?”
“All the tech topside is military grade,” Dr. Burkhorst snorts. “It didn’t survive the EMP, let alone a purge. We just have to trust we cleared the bunker. Not that it matters. All purge shafts have been sealed, and the lifts up are locked down. We aren’t leaving the facility for a very long time, Doctor. If ever.”
Dr. Probst begins to protest, then shuts up instantly as the doors come to a stop and reveal a sight that her mind cannot even wrap around. She looks over and sees nothing but smugness on Dr. Burkhorst’s face.
“We call it the Substance,” Dr. Burkhorst says as she walks past the threshold and into a massive room that faces a wall that doesn’t even appear to exist. She looks back to see Dr. Probst frozen in place. “Come on, Doctor, it’s perfectly safe. It’s not glass, but whatever it is cannot be breached. The French tried to nuke theirs, but it didn’t even leave a mark. No one thought it would, but I think the French just wanted an excuse to detonate a nuke.”
Dr. Probst only shakes her head in response.
Before her is a swirling mass of green ooze mixed with streaks of various colors. Every couple of seconds, shapes emerge from the ooze, but are lost so quickly that Dr. Probst can’t identify them. All she knows are that the shapes are enormous.
“What?” Dr. Probst finally manages to say.
“That’s the question,” Dr. Burkhorst replies. “Our best theory is that this is the proverbial primordial ooze.”
“The what?” Dr. Probst asks, her feet still planted firmly in place despite her desire to get closer and examine the Substance.
