by Jake Bible
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Linder replies. “I figure times like these bring families closer together.”
“You’re not my family!” Kyle roars.
A roar answers him. And it’s close.
“See what your anger has done?” Linder hisses, hurrying faster, his hands shoving Kyle in the back. “Go!”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Kyle hisses back and Linder pulls his hands away.
“Just go,” Linder says, trying to keep from exploding. The little shit is making it very difficult for him, though.
Very difficult.
***
“We’re going to have to move,” Coletti says. “We’re going to get trampled at some point.”
“How?” Dr. Probst asks. “We come out of hiding and we’ll get eaten.”
The woman is exhausted from her screaming, and subsequent crying fit, but has enough energy to start assessing the situation the two find themselves in.
“You’ve seen what it’s like out there,” she whispers. “The big ones eat the smaller ones. That means the smaller ones will probably eat us as soon as we push these branches aside.”
“I think the smaller ones are too busy getting away from the bigger ones,” Coletti says, ignoring the absurdity of that statement. “They don’t have time to stop and snack on us.”
Dr. Probst shudders at the comment.
Coletti starts emptying his pockets and pats Dr. Probst to do the same. After some seconds of glowering, the doctor finally follows suit and pulls everything from the high-altitude jumpsuit she wears. There isn’t much.
“We each have a water bottle and water purification tablets, so that’s good,” Coletti says, looking at the inventory on the ground before them. “Only four MREs, though, and five energy bars, so food is scarce.”
“How were we going to eat before?” Dr. Probst asks.
“We were going to set up a base camp and then have supplies air dropped as needed,” Coletti says, looking at the surreal sky and landscape about them. “Don’t think that’s happening anytime soon.” He studies the sky then turns to Dr. Probst. “Why haven’t we suffocated from the ash yet?”
“The eruption must have been so powerful that the ash is in the upper reaches of the atmosphere,” she replies. “It’s so far up it’s out of the local air currents and now going global. Europe will be getting a nice surprise soon.”
“But it will come down, right?” Coletti asks.
“Yes, it will,” Dr. Probst replies, “but no way to know when.”
“Yeah, the usual rules no longer apply,” Coletti laughs quietly.
“Physics is physics,” Dr. Probst says. “As a scientist, I have learned that the hard way too many times.”
“Never assume,” Coletti counters. “As a SEAL, I learnedthat the hard way once. Won’t happen again.”
“Then be prepared for an ash fall like the world has never seen,” Dr. Probst responds. “And pray we have found shelter by then.”
“I didn’t think scientists prayed,” Coletti grins.
“What’s the saying? Foxholes make believers out of everyone?” She waves her hand around. “I think our temporary shelter counts as a foxhole, don’t you?”
“I’ve been in worse,” Coletti replies. He sighs and looks at the meager supplies.
The water bottles and water tablets, MREs and energy bars, two survival knives, a few feet of heavy duty cord, four pop flares, and two Mylar blankets, folded tightly into small, silver squares. Plus Coletti’s .45 and three extra magazines, as well as the helmets they wore on their insane descent.
“Won’t get us far, but better than nothing,” Coletti says as he divides the supplies up between them, then gets up, crouching low so his back just barely touches the fir boughs. “Ready?”
“What? Now?” Dr. Probst asks. “Shouldn’t we wait for morning so there’s more light?”
“How much light do you think will get through that ash?” Coletti asks. “The glow from above is light enough to keep us from falling into a ravine or off a cliff. We need to move while we still have energy. We get far enough away and we might be able to find that shelter you prayed for.”
“I haven’t prayed yet,” Dr. Probst responds. “I just suggested we pray.”
“Well, I have been since the second we hit ground,” Coletti says as he slowly and carefully begins to move the fir boughs out of their way. “You should take your own advice and start right away. Another thing I’ve learned as a SEAL is you take help where you can get it, no matter the source.”
There’s a wide enough gap in the boughs for them to get out and Coletti holds his hand back for Dr. Probst to take. She does, stands up, and the two of them quietly step out into a terrifying new world.
***
“Command, this is Porthos,” the fighter pilot calls over the com. “We are approaching the target area. Guns are hot and missiles ready. Please confirm standing order to fire as needed.”
“Standing order is confirmed, Porthos,” a voice responds. “Godspeed.”
“You hear that, boys?” Porthos says. “We can light up these Godzillas as soon as we have contact.”
“You have got to be shitting me,” someone replies. “This is a joke, right?”
“No joke, Short Stop,” Porthos replies. “You’ve all seen the footage. Crazy shit came up out of that hole and we get to send it back! I want all wings to report now!”
“Short Stop is a go.”
“Walker is a go.”
“Eggs is a go.”
“Downsize is a go.”
“Tickles is a go.” He sighs. “Can I get a fucking new call sign after this?”
“Like what, Monster Fucker?” Eggs laughs.
“Shut it,” Porthos orders.
“Rocket is a go.”
“Trophy is a go.”
“Alright, gentlemen,” Porthos says, “we have some ash to deal with. Drop hard and fast, then eyes on your targets. We’re looking at creatures close to a thousand feet tall. The ash cloud is at 40,000 feet and rising. Estimates say it’s got to be at least a thousand feet thick in of itself. That’s a lot of time flying blind. Watch yourselves coming out the other side.”
The F-15s break from formation and dive, their sleek bodies piercing the black ash that rolls below them.
Porthos watches his readings as the world around the jet fighter goes dark.
“You got anything, Athos?” Porthos asks his WSO seated behind him.
“Radar is for shit,” Athos replies, his eyes studying the three screens in front of him, his hands working the dual joysticks rapidly. “Can’t get a lock on anything. The ash is denser than we thought.”
“And thicker,” Porthos says. “We’re already two thousand feet in, not just one thousand.”
“Whoa, what was that?” Athos asks. “You see that?”
“No, what was it?”
“I don’t know,” Athos says. “I picked up something in the ash.”
“Probably one of the other fighters,” Porthos replies. “Everyone better stay on course or we’ll have some nasty collisions.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Athos says. “If this ash doesn’t thin out, we’re going to slam right into a fucking mountain.”
“Well, we’re about to find out what’s up soon enough,” Porthos says. “Here we go!”
The fighters break from the ash cloud and not a single man is able to keep from gasping, praying, cursing, or flat out screaming.
“Jesus Christ!” Porthos cries. “Light ‘em up, Athos!”
Porthos pulls the trigger on his forward guns while Athos targets the monsters with the air to ground missiles. The WSO watches as the missiles shoot out away from the fighter, headed for their target a few thousand feet below them.
“This isn’t fucking real,” Eggs says over the com.
“Keep it under control, Pilot!” Porthos orders. “Stay focused and send those things back to Hell!”
Missiles rain down as
bullets fill the air in a blanket of hot lead, all headed towards the impossible monsters that lumber, shuffle, stomp around at the edge of the massive hole in the earth.
“Five seconds to impact,” Athos says. “Three, two, one!”
The missiles hit their targets and fire erupts everywhere. Huge explosions climb into the sky as the fighters all pull up, aiming their noses back towards the ash.
“Direct hits!” Athos shouts.
“Hear that, gentlemen?” Porthos laughs. “Looks like we know how to shoot.”
Something streaks by the side of the fighter, causing Porthos to jerk the stick.
“Whoa there!” Athos shouts. “You okay, man?”
“Did you see that?” Porthos asks. “What the fuck was that? It was huge!”
“Hey, guys?” Short Stop calls. “I don’t think we’re-”
His voice is cut off and there’s a brief squeal of static.
“Short Stop? Come in, Short Stop!” Porthos shouts.
Nothing.
Off to the right, an explosion just below the ash cloud catches the pilot’s attention.
“Athos, I need to know what the fuck is going on!” Porthos shouts.
“We have bogeys!” Walker yells.
Then the com is filled with pilots shouting as their WSOs try to lock onto the new threats.
“Athos!”
“I’m trying, goddammit!” Athos shouts. “I can’t get a lock! The things are massive and keep dropping in and out of the ash!”
“Are you fucking telling me we have flying Godzillas up here with us?” Porthos asks.
“I don’t fucking know!” Athos yells.
A shape appears in front of their fighter and Porthos barely shoves the stick in time to send them shooting underneath the thing. He rolls the fighter to the left and dives as Athos shouts directions at him from behind.
“Left! Right! Jesus, the thing is faster than we are!” Athos yells. “Do that voodoo you do, man! We can’t outrun it!”
Porthos jams the stick as far forward as it will go, sending the fighter into a power dive that he isn’t sure he can pull them out of. His eyes lock onto the monsters below and he realizes that there are more than just the big ones they attacked. Dozens and dozens of smaller things crawl from the chasm, scurrying away as soon as they are free.
But he can’t think of those things right now. He has more pressing issues.
“Counter measures!” Porthos yells.
“You think flares are going to scare this fuck off?” Athos shouts.
Porthos whips the stick to the right then pulls up hard and the fighter races past the flying beast pursuing them. There’s a roar of frustration that the pilot can actually hear over the sound of the jet engines. His gut clenches and he jams the stick forward, sending the fighter into a dive once more.
A huge wing whips past the fighter, and all of a sudden, alarms start to blare as lights flash along the dashboard.
“Shit!” Porthos yells. “The thing clipped us!”
The man struggles to get control of the fighter as it begins to spin wildly through the air. It plummets towards the ground, and the hundreds of monsters below. Porthos jams his feet into the bottom of the cockpit for leverage as he tries to pull the jet out of the fall.
His muscles strain and he’s pretty sure he tears something in his left elbow as he grips the stick with every ounce of strength left in his body. He can hear Athos yelling in his ear, but he shuts the man out, putting all of his focus onto getting them out of the dive. His throat goes raw from screaming as the stick slowly starts to respond. He risks letting go with one hand and pushes the throttle forward, using the thrust from the engines to try to cut the spin.
It works. In a second the jet is no longer spinning and Porthos has control once more. He aims the fighter back towards the ash cloud, ready to get the fuck out of this nightmare.
Instead he runs directly into one.
The thing before them spreads its enormous wings and six massive claws reach for the jet.
“OH, FUCK!” Porthos screams as the two combatants collide.
***
Dr. Probst huddles against Coletti as they hide under a rocky overhang, their eyes glued to the aerial battle above.
“They’re coming out of the ash,” Dr. Probst says. “How can they breathe? The ash alone should kill them, not to mention the altitude.”
“You’re trying to apply that reality thing again, Doc,” Coletti says. “You should stop doing that.”
There’s a huge explosion and one of the fighters and flying monsters come crashing towards the ground, now both just a fused ball of flame. Dr. Probst gasps as the ball of flame slams into one of the big monsters, sending it collapsing to the earth. Everything shakes from the impact and Coletti and Dr. Probst hold each other tighter as rocks bounce off their heads from the overhang.
They both stare as the big monster shakes off the fire and debris and pushes back up to its feet.
“That explains why those missiles didn’t take the things out,” Coletti says. “This isn’t looking good.”
“They’ll just have to use bigger missiles,” Dr. Probst says.
“How?” Coletti asks. “You think those flying things are going to let an F-35 through that ash? The only option left is to send in the bombers.”
“My God,” Dr. Probst says. “You think they will?”
“They might,” Coletti says. “Which means we need to be far away from here when they do.”
There’s a second explosion and a third and two more fighters plummet towards the ground in flames. Neither actually makes contact with the earth, as they are lost in the chasm instead.
Coletti tugs at Dr. Probst’s arm. “Come on. It’s not going to get any better.”
***
“Does anyone have any good news for me?” President Nance asks, his tie askew and face red with anger, yet white with fear, creating a splotchy, maniacal look. “Tell me we killed something!”
“Only confirmed kill is the flying creature that Pilot Hormell collided with,” General Tulane says. “Otherwise, we can’t say for sure if any of those things died.”
“You’re telling me that eight F-15 Strike Eagles couldn’t kill one of those giant monsters?” President Nance snaps. “Those things took direct hits from goddamn sidewinder missiles!”
“Sir, calm down,” Joan says, taking the full wrath of his anger on herself as the man whips about to face her. “We don’t know what we are dealing with. Conventional weapons may not work on these creatures.”
“Then get me unconventional weapons!” President Nance roars. “Nuke the goddamn things!”
“Sir, we cannot use nuclear weapons,” Secretary of Defense Jeremy Borland says from down the table. Quiet for most of the crisis, the man has let the Joint Chiefs handle things, but the mention of nukes means Borland’s time to step forward is now. “The thermals will take the radiation right into the upper atmosphere and spread it with the ash. We nuke those things and we could possibly win, but the Earth will be contaminated with radiation in a matter of months. We already have an ash winter to deal with, sir, we can’t have a nuclear winter also.”
“That’s assuming nukes even work on these beasts,” General Azoul adds.
“True,” Borland agrees. “But the way that flying monster went down I’d say nukes would work. We just can’t use that option.”
“Then what other options do we have? What about MOABs?” President Nance asks.
“Mother Of All Bombs?” Joan asks. “How would we get them there? You saw what those things can do to F-15s. A bulky bomber isn’t going to be able to out fly those monsters.”
“They won’t have to,” General Tulane says. “We could drop them from above the ash. My guys will make sure they hit their targets.”
“Your guys will make sure they hitnear the targets,” Admiral Quigley counters. “We won’t know what the results are. They could just bounce off and make the bastards mad. Until we have visuals,
we can’t make a single informed decision. We need eyes on the area and now.”
“Satellites are still not in place,” Joan says. “We have a couple more hours until we can get them over ground zero.”
“Then what?” General Tulane asks. “We stare at black ash? Even if we can get thermal imaging, we won’t be able to know exactly what we’re looking at.”
“Especially if the things aren’t warm blooded,” General Azoul says. “They could just show up as rocks on the thermal. I know where General Tulane is going with this and I agree. We need eyes on the ground.”
“It’ll take a day to get troops in there,” Joan responds. “Every vehicle within a thousand miles is nonoperational due to the EMP.”
“We may have folks on the ground that are a lot closer,” Borland says, leaning forward. “All we need is one or two to be spotters for us. We get them the equipment and they’ll make sure the bombs hit home. And tell us if they work.”
“Do I have to mention the EMP again?” Joan snaps. “We can’t talk to anyone close enough to help! All electronics are out!”
“That’s not quite true,” Borland says. “If Coletti or any of his people survived, then we can get hold of them. Or at least point them in the right direction.”
“How?” President Nance asks.
“CLDs,” Borland says. “All Special Operations operators have them, from Delta Force to the SEALs. Coordinate Locating Devices. They are small and can only give operators longitude and latitude, but they are shielded from even the strongest EMPs. We start airdropping containers into the area with all the gear the men need and those containers can give off a signal that the CLDs will pick up. If Coletti’s people, or any other operators, are close by then they’ll know to get to the containers.”
“Is this true?” President Nance asks the Joint Chiefs.
“Yes, sir,” General Azoul nods. “The trick is whether or not we have any men in the area.”
“Do it,” President Nance orders. “Get those men the gear they need to so we can finally get some intel on the area. We have no idea how much time we have before these things start to spread.”
