Final Dawn: Season 1 (The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Series)

by Mike Kraus

  “Are they coming back?” Nancy’s voice was full of emotion, and Marcus put an arm around her, easing her back to the ground.

  Rachel checked the seal on the door, examining it and the rest of the room for any signs of damage. “Doesn’t look like they broke through at all. We should be safe in here for a bit, but they’ll definitely be back.”

  Nancy began to cry softly, and Marcus wrapped his arm tighter around her, trying to offer her what little comfort he could. Rachel ignored Nancy’s crying and continued, speaking to herself more than to anyone else.

  “Well, we’ve got air exchange, that’s good. Probably in the floor or ceiling. Must be hidden well enough that they didn’t find it.”

  “What the hell are those things?” Nancy was beyond hysterical. She was sobbing as she sat on the floor of the armory, gasping hoarsely to get the words out.

  Rachel looked at her, then sat down to stroke Sam’s head, ignoring the question.

  “Something unnatural, that’s what.” Leonard responded to Nancy, speaking not just to her, but to the room and world at large. “They’re human but not, they’re changed somehow, turned into something else.”

  Rachel looked up at him, meeting his gaze and holding it.

  “And you. You know something about it, don’t you. Coming in here with your gun and your dog and telling us what to do. You anticipated them, outsmarted them. You know exactly what they are, don’t you?” Leonard’s voice remained calm, with a firmness about it that showed how serious he was.

  Rachel looked down again and sighed deeply. She felt the other three staring at her expectantly, waiting to hear her reply.

  “They’re not entirely human, you’re right. They were people, but they’ve been changed. Taken over, and augmented. They’re stronger, faster and smarter than us. Well, smarter in some ways. Not in every way. Not yet, anyway. Give them another few weeks or so and there’ll be no chance of outsmarting them.”

  Nancy’s crying had finally stopped and the room fell silent, interrupted only by Sam’s panting, Nancy blowing her nose and the sounds of everyone breathing.

  “What’s going on, Rachel?” Leonard stood over her, looking down. Patience was written across his face, though Rachel could sense the rage and hostility bubbling just beneath the surface. She looked to Marcus and Nancy and saw the same thing. They all wanted to hear what she had to say.

  “I… I can’t, I’m sorry. I have a security clearance, I’m not allowed to say anything about this.”

  “Security clearance? Bullshit!” Leonard slammed his palm into the wall, the ringing echoing through the small room. Rachel flinched and closed her eyes, but did not respond.

  “You mean to tell me you know what’s going on here, but you won’t tell us because the government says you can’t? Look around, lady! In case you hadn’t noticed, the government doesn’t fucking exist anymore! Have you not figured that out?!”

  Rachel gritted her teeth and stood, pushing Sam to the side as she faced Leonard. They were about the same height, standing in front of each other, just inches apart. Rachel tore into Leonard, enraged by the accusation.

  “Fuck off, Leonard! I lost everything because of this mess! I lost my husband and my child! I had to listen to my daughter scream when a bomb hit! I think I’ve figured out exactly what’s going on here, so back off, asshole!” Rachel’s screams continued to echo through the chamber for several seconds after she stopped.

  Leonard’s face slumped and he backed several inches away before turning to sit down, leaving Rachel standing in the middle of the room, wild-eyed and breathing heavily at all of them.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The words were quiet, soft and heartfelt as Leonard mumbled them. Rachel was stunned by the response, fully expecting to have a knock-down fight with Leonard. The simple act of respect and humility in spite of the situation broke Rachel, and she fell to the floor in tears. Sam crawled up to her, pushing his head under her arm. Leonard watched her for a moment, then slid over, sitting next to her and patting her on the back.

  “I was in the basement when the bomb hit Atlanta. I heard my daughter scream as the door swung shut, then there was nothing. I woke up in the rubble, crawled out and everything was gone. Wiped clean, like a wet rag on a slate.”

  Rachel stared at Leonard, unblinking as the tears poured out. “Do you know what it’s like to lose your child? To hear her scream? To know what she must be feeling and be powerless to stop it? She had her problems, sure. Every kid struggles with something. But she was the light of my life, despite everything. And I lost her and I lost my husband. I should have died with them, but I lost them.”

  “I’m sure we’ve all lost someone we’ve loved or cared about.” Leonard looked at Marcus and Nancy as he spoke. They both lowered their heads as he continued. “The important thing is that we keep going. We can’t surrender to these things, or that silver stuff outside or any of this. We’ve got to keep going. For our families, friends, neighbors… hell, just for us as people. For your husband and your daughter.”

  Rachel whispered. “David.”

  Leonard stammered, but kept going. “Yes, and David, too—”

  Rachel looked up, the tears in her eyes gone, replaced now by the faintest glimmer of hope. As she sat on the floor, listening to Leonard, she thought back past the military, past her family and back to the lab. LV400. Laboratory Victor, Room 400. How could I be so stupid? David never called the lab by its proper name; he always had to use that stupid abbreviation.

  Rachel fished in her pocket for the small metal box she had picked up in the military tent. The lockbox was grey, with a white stencil across the top that read LV400 in bold lettering. Rachel pulled at the box, trying to get it open, then began to hit it against the floor in frustration.

  “Open, dammit!”

  Leonard produced his drill, showing it to Rachel. “Think this would help?” He was completely unsatisfied with the lack of explanations that had come from Rachel, but after her emotional outburst he was trying to ease back on hammering her for information. They weren’t going anywhere fast, after all, and he could always start questioning her again once she calmed down.

  Rachel snatched the drill out of Leonard’s hand and went to work on the lockbox. After a few moments of loud clanging, the box popped open and Rachel held the contents aloft triumphantly, nearly squealing in delight. Inside the container, nestled in a small bed of foam padding, sat a small data stick no larger than a thumbnail. Small lettering was visible on both sides of the stick, a combination of “LV400” and “Classified Materials” repeating over and over again.

  “I need a computer! Quick, look around, see if there’s anything in here that might have a data stick port on it. The steel room should have protected any electronics in here from the EMP! Hurry!”

  Rachel’s nearly instant attitude shift startled Leonard, but he obliged, helping Rachel search through the stacks of equipment. He pulled out a box filled with electronics, eventually uncovering a small laptop stashed inside a satchel. He held it up for Rachel. “How about this?”

  Grinning, Rachel snatched it up, opening the screen and going through the boot process. Days of derailment, trauma and agony had left her feeling discouraged and depressed, up until now. If this came from LV400, though… if David really recorded this, then there might still be a chance. Rachel’s scientific side had taken over again, compartmentalizing her emotions and helping her focus. No time to mourn now, have to keep going.

  After a few seconds, the login screen for the computer appeared. Rachel tried a few common passwords for the administrative account, but none worked. She tried the guest login prompt, and to her surprise it worked. “Wow, these guys really didn’t do much to secure anything. That’s a state agency for you.”

  Leonard, Marcus and Nancy looked at each other, trying to figure out what had gotten into Rachel. She had gone from harsh and cold to emotional and introspective to manic and rushed all within the space of a few minutes.

&
nbsp; “What are you trying to do? Email’s not exactly going to work anymore.”

  Rachel held up the data stick that she had pulled out of the lockbox before jamming it into a port on the side of the machine. “This! I think I might know what’s on this! If I’m right, this might be our best information on kicking the asses of these things once and for all.”

  Hearing these words brought hope to the others in the room and they crowded around Rachel as she furiously typed on the keyboard. The data stick was recognized by the operating system, but she was unfamiliar with the exact software version that was running on the police laptop. Her normal commands weren’t working, so she tried several workarounds, desperately working to open the encrypted file that she knew was on the data stick.

  Leonard McComb | Rachel Walsh | Marcus Warden | Nancy Sims

  9:41 AM, April 5, 2038

  “Got it!” Rachel threw her arms up in the air, then gasped and grimaced as waves of pain circulated through her chest. The other three looked at her as she turned the laptop toward them, showing them the file folder that was open. Inside the folder sat several different files: a video, a few images and several text files.

  Rachel went through the text files first, confirming that they had indeed come from David. At the top of each file was David’s full name, the date the files were saved and a brief summary of their contents. They were full of rows of numbers, abbreviations, chemical names and mineral names all arranged in a comma-delimited format for easy sorting and manipulation. These look like inventory records from the lab. Why would David have put these on a drive? Several rows were marked with asterisks, but Rachel wasn’t sure what they meant.

  “What’s all that?” Marcus gestured at the screen, speaking over a mouthful of food. Thanks to Leonard’s quick thinking and the combination of food from everyone’s sacks, they had enough food and water to last for a while inside the armory, and they had all gone to town on the supplies, having the first relaxed meal in a long time. Bathroom facilities would have to be sorted out soon, but that was a topic that no one had wanted to broach thus far.

  “I think it’s a bunch of inventory logs from the lab I worked at in Washington. I just can’t figure out why David would want someone to read these.”

  “David was your husband?”

  “Oh, no, David was a coworker and a good friend. He was one of the several scientists in charge of the lab, including myself.”

  “What kind of lab was it, Rachel?” Leonard was walking around the room, inspecting the weapons. Occasionally he would pick one up, hold it up and pantomime shooting it, seeing how it felt in his hands. His favorites so far were the grenade launchers, equipped to fire smoke, tear gas, armor penetrating and explosive rounds.

  Rachel stopped typing long enough to look at him as she responded. “We were a skunkworks lab, tasked with advanced research in a whole bunch of areas. I helped manage and coordinate all the projects along with David and a few other people.”

  “I guess it was pretty big to warrant that many supervisors. What kind of projects?”

  Rachel let out a long breath, shaking her head, thinking about all the work that had crossed her desk in the time she had been there. “Just about anything major that’s come out in the last twenty years, our lab probably had a hand in it. Advanced medicine, genetic testing, weapon design, alternative energy research. You name it, we worked on it, either for secret purposes or for commercial entities.”

  Marcus let out a low whistle. “Wow. And all that was going on in D.C.?”

  “Yep, right in the heart. Our main building was just a few blocks from the White House. The folks at the top liked to keep us where they could get to us easily. Made them feel important, being able to drop in and ‘check up’ on everything. We didn’t really care as long as they stayed out of the way. Well, except for one. He was… odd.” Rachel trailed off, thinking about the mysterious “Mr. Doe” who seemed to instill fear into nearly every person in the facility despite no one being completely sure of who he was.

  Rachel opened the image files next, with the others still watching on behind her. The first image was a satellite view of a snow-covered area, with a body of water off to the left. A red circle highlighted a section of the water just off the coast, and as Rachel zoomed in she could see a small speck in the center of the circle. The view was wide enough that Rachel couldn’t tell what the speck was, so she skipped to the next image.

  Like the first image, this one was also a satellite view, but of a very different area. Instead of a featureless white land mass, this one was green, with a river curving around through half the image. Rachel could see roads and bridges in the area, along with buildings and rolling fields. A circle on this image highlighted a grey square in the center of a green field directly next to a bend in the river. The square looked new compared to the other buildings in the area, and it was foreign to Rachel.

  “Do you guys recognize this?” Rachel turned to the three behind her, pointing at the square on the screen. They all shook their heads, having never seen it before either. “Whatever it is, it’s massive; at least a couple miles on each side. It must not be here in the US, then, or I think I’d have remembered a news article about it or something.”

  Instead of showing another satellite view, the third image was a schematic. Several cross-section views were present, along with measurements and descriptions of materials. Rachel immediately recognized the object on the screen, but said nothing about it. Marcus tried to ask what it was, but Rachel shook her head and closed the image.

  “Just this last file, the video, then I’ll explain everything.” Rachel double-clicked the file before anyone could object, maximized it to fill the screen of the computer and turned up the volume to its highest setting.

  Undisclosed Location

  March 25, 2038

  The first sign that something is seriously wrong comes just before eight o’clock. The laboratory complex, while operating under normal conditions, is suddenly placed under quarantine. Mr. Doe is informed of this development in less than a minute after it happens by a phone call from one of the panicked staff. With a cool, calm voice he tells the staff member to place their superior on the phone, who he then interrogates for information. Midway through the conversation, before he can extract very much useful information, the call is cut off.

  In less than two minutes from the first word of the quarantine, Mr. Doe is off the phone, striding down the hall towards the elevator. He motions to his secretary as he walks by. “Call an emergency meeting.” The secretary nods and immediately picks up her phone, foregoing a response to shave precious seconds off the phone calls. She makes several short calls in rapid succession, speaking in a hushed tone through each brief conversation.

  “Mr. Doe has ordered an emergency meeting. He didn’t say what it was about. Yes, goodbye.”

  Seventeen minutes later, Mr. Doe is assembled with Mr. Johnson, Mr. Richards, Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones in a conference room in the lower levels of the building. The projector is already on when they enter the room. It displays live camera feeds of the interior of the complex as the men watch. A speakerphone in the center of the table is on, transmitting sound from the cameras to the conference room. Mr. Richards is speaking with staff members on another line, collecting their reports to find out the cause of the quarantine.

  Minutes pass with no new information, then Mr. Jones points at one of the cameras. A faint mist forms in view of the camera, like static or fog. The mist becomes more well-defined, turning from a pale grey color into a silver one. The silver mist coalesces into tendrils that snake down the hall in pursuit of a woman who runs from them. On the other end of the conference line, a scream passes through, and Mr. Richards pulls back from the table, looking to Mr. Doe. The others turn to face Mr. Doe as well, who still sits silent at the head of the table, observing what is unfolding.

  “Sir, this is—”

  “I know what it is, Mr. Smith, thank you. Kindly allow me to think for a moment.”


  Mr. Doe’s icy voice does not waver as he speaks. He swivels his chair away from the men to face the wall. Screams continue to echo through the conference line for several minutes, while more cameras are filled with images of the silver mist, flowing through the halls and rooms of the laboratory complex.

  “Activate Bertha.” The command comes while Mr. Doe is still facing the wall. The four men look at each other, then Mr. Richards disconnects the conference line. He redials, connecting to another facility.

  “Authorization code?” The challenge comes with a military precision honed from years of practice.

  Mr. Richards responds to the question with a series of letters and numbers. There is a pause, then the man on the other end of the line replies. “Challenge accepted. Deploying Bertha.”

  Mr. Richards leans back in his chair, wiping sweat that has accumulated on his brow. He looks at Mr. Doe who has turned back to face the men in the room.