by Jake Bible
“He’s busy right now,” Lu says. “He’ll be back in a while. You need to rest some more anyway.”
“Yeah...okay,” Kyle says, his eyelids already drooping. “Don’t let him leave when he gets back.”
“I don’t plan on it,” Lu says. “I’ll make sure he stays with us from now on.”
***
“There are five of the things out there,” Lowell says. “And we each have two bundles. We have twelve chances to make this work.”
“Good math,” Kreigel says as the men stand by the door that leads into the hangar entrance. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Lowell holds up a bundle, which happens to be a man’s thigh with two magazines of live ammunition taped around it. “This should be enough gunpowder to do the trick. Once we get through, we find a drum of diesel, get with the dunking of our treats, and toss them towards the door. Pretty sure the fucking things will smell them and snatch ‘em up. Got it?”
Taylor nods at Holt who rips open the door so the men can rush into the hangar. They hurry across the concrete towards the entrance and the monsters that wait on the other side.
Except they aren’t just waiting. All the men stop in their tracks as they see parts of five heads wedged against the opening in the massive hangar door, their blue tongues lashing out at the diesel drums that had been stacked against the wall, but are now strewn everywhere, their metal sides pierced and leaking.
“Oh shit,” Lowell says. “I hope they didn’t ruin their appetites.”
All tongues stop and zip back across the floor to their respective mouths. Cold black eyes watch the men as they stand there with their bloody bundles in hand.
“What now?” Toloski whispers.
“We’ll never get to the drums before they nail us,” Holt says.
“Then we bowl,” Bolton replies.
He draws his arm back and hurls one of his bundles at the drums. It bangs against the metal and lands right in a large puddle of fuel. None of the beasts go for it.
“Toss them all,” Taylor says. “Maybe they need volume for it to be worth the effort.”
A blue tongue shoots out towards them and they all dive to the side. But Lowell isn’t fast enough and it snags him around the ankle, pulling him towards the entrance and the hundreds of waiting teeth.
“Oh fuck!” Lowell yells as the plastic suit he’s in slides across the concrete.
Just as he passes the diesel drums, he reaches out and drags his bundles through the large pool of diesel, soaking them completely. He rolls onto his back and lifts his head so he can watch the tongue take him to his death.
“Fuck you!” he yells and tosses the bundles into the open mouth.
The monster shrieks and the tongue lets go. He slides another foot or so and then stops. He hears the thing chomp down on the fuel soaked body parts and ammo. Lowell scuttles backwards, his eyes never leaving the gap under the hangar door. He watches as another of the creatures focuses its attention on him and he quickly realizes he doesn’t have anything left to bribe this one with.
“Here!” Bolton yells and tosses a bundle towards the entrance.
More and more bundles of dead flesh and ammo land with it and tongues go flying, snatching up the snacks. The bundles are nothing but quick bites for the enormous monsters, and in seconds, the mouths stop chomping and the black eyes once again return to the opening, focusing on the men before them.
“Shit,” Taylor says, taking his M-4 from his back and putting it to his shoulder.
A tongue darts out at him and he leaps out of the way. More tongues follow and the men dive this way and that, dodging the deadly blue appendages. Then the attacks stop and a low moaning can be heard.
The single moaning is joined by more sounds and the heads quickly withdraw from the hangar door. The men pick themselves up off the ground and walk slowly forward, except for Lowell, who stays right where he is.
“Have you never watched a horror movie?” Lowell snaps. “Dudes! They’re coming back!”
A head appears at the hangar door and a tongue starts to shoot out, causing the men to jump back and open fire. But the tongue only makes it a couple feet before it slows and lies there limp and useless. Then a gush of grey foam shoots out of the monster’s mouth and begins to harden. The thing hisses, groans, then goes silent. And still.
No one moves, even when they hear more hisses and groans from outside, followed by the sounds of large things falling and liquids gushing.
“Sir?” Kreigel asks, looking over at Taylor. “Should I check it out?”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Taylor says.
Kreigel nods, adjusts his carbine against his shoulder, and steps cautiously towards the hangar door. He reaches the opening, takes a deep breath, then crouches down. He peers through the two foot space, his M-4 sweeping from side to side and then sits down on his ass.
“Holy shit, sir. It worked,” Kreigel says. “The things are dead. Like seriously dead.”
The rest of the men rush over to the entrance and crouch down, their eyes wide as they see the burst open bodies and hardened grey foam that surrounds those bodies.
“I only see two,” Taylor says, looking at the beasts that lay still on the ground by the torn apart Humvee. “Where are the others?”
“Down there,” Kreigel says as he crawls under the door and moves to the edge of the short ledge. “They must have lost their grips. Take a look.”
Everyone joins him and they peer over the side and look down at the broken and mangled monster corpses below.
“Nice,” Lowell says, joining the rest. “It worked.”
“That tone makes it sound like you weren’t sure,” Taylor says, looking at Lowell.
Lowell shrugs and smiles through the face mask. “I wasn’t. Just had a hunch.”
“Good hunch,” Bolton says.
“No shit,” Kreigel agrees.
“Okay, let’s get moving,” Taylor orders. “We have a long walk ahead of us.”
***
They can see for miles from the high ridge and the view is breathtaking.
“It’d be kinda pretty if it wasn’t for the destroyed city,” Holt says as the men stand in a row, their eyes focused on the spot where the massive hole should be.
But it’s not there. Instead, there is a huge depression in the land, like a two hundred mile wide divot has been carved out of the earth. Yet, there is no sign of an ash cloud or wriggling mass of monsters.
“Want me to call this in?” Kreigel asks.
“Job isn’t done yet,” Bolton says, tapping at the wide radiation strip on his wrist. The color is bright green, indicating that no radiation has made it to the ridge yet. “We have to get close enough to see how bad the contamination is.”
“Good thing I wore my good boots today,” Holt says and the men turn and start to make their way down to the ground below.
It’s a good couple of hours before they reach Missoula and another couple more hours before they get as close to the divot as they feel comfortable getting. Despite there being no sign of monsters coming up from the divot, there are still the monsters that emerged previously to worry about. Not to mention the very good possibility that the ground within a mile of the divot is highly unstable.
“I don’t get it,” Bolton says, looking at the green strip around his wrist. “We should be picking up something, but I don’t see any signs of radiation at all.”
“The hole could have collapsed and covered it,” Taylor says. “Like nuclear waste buried in the Nevada Mountains.”
“Could have,” Bolton says. “But do you really believe that?”
“I’ll believe almost anything after these last few days,” Taylor says. “Now call it in.”
***
“Thank you, Sergeant Bolton,” President Nance says. “Your service has been invaluable. Your country is proud of you and I am proud of what you and Rogue Team have accomplished.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” Bolton replies over the com. �
�When can we expect extraction, sir?”
President Nance looks down the table at General Azoul.
“We’ll be sending a Chinook in to get you within twenty-four hours, Sergeant,” General Azoul says. “I wish we could get you sooner, but our resources are thin at the moment, as I’m sure you can understand.”
“Yes, General, I can,” Bolton responds. “We’ll be waiting here for your word. We’ll also be keeping an eye out for the monsters that are still on the loose. I hope we don’t see any, but we know they are out there.”
“Yes and thank you for your information on how to kill these beasts, Sergeant,” President Nance says. “You have gone over and above your call of duty.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible, sir, but thank you again,” Bolton says. “Uh, on that subject, I do have a request, sir.”
“I think you can save your requests for a more formal setting, Sergeant,” General Azoul interrupts.
“Nonsense,” President Nance responds. “What’s your request, Sergeant?”
“The man that figured out how to kill the monsters, sir,” Bolton begins. “Anson Lowell. He is technically still a federal prisoner. I’d like to request his sentence be commuted, sir. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.”
Joan slaps a file on the table in front of President Nance. He opens it and scans the contents quickly.
“The man killed two judges, as well as police officers, Sergeant,” President Nance says. “I don’t know if I can honor that request.”
“I understand, sir,” Bolton says. “Just wanted to ask. It’s the least I can do for the guy.”
“Understood, Sergeant,” President Nance says. “You men be sure to take care of yourselves until we can get you safely home. I’d hate to lose this nation’s newest heroes.”
He waves his hand and the connection is cut.
“Where are we?” he asks the table.
“Power is slowly being restored to areas affected by the EMP, sir,” Joan responds. “We have had sightings of the large and small ground monsters. All commanders have been informed on the theory on how to kill them.”
“What about the flying monsters?” President Nance asks. “Where are we with those?”
“Jets have been pursuing them, sir,” General Tulane states. “We have had some success with engagement, but mostly, we are following them.”
“Following?” President Nance asks.
“They are all moving out to sea, sir,” Admiral Quigley says. “I have ships off the Pacific coast reporting they are just flying out across the ocean by the hundreds. They aren’t stopping and they aren’t attacking, just flying, sir.”
“That is what I am hearing as well,” General Tulane agrees. “They are all just flying out over the water.”
“Well, better than trying to attack our people,” President Nance says. “How soon until we have satellites over ground zero?”
“Four hours, sir,” Borland says. “I am coordinating with several organizations and institutions to put together research teams. We’ll want to get them on the ground ASAP and start studying the area. The more information we have the better prepared we will be if this happens again.”
“Do you think it will?” President Nance asks. “Dr. Hall? What can you tell us?”
“That I’m exhausted,” Dr. Hall responds. “And hungry again. Other than that, not much. Everything I’ve told you has been based on educated guesses. Until we have hard facts, we can’t really know if more of those things will come up from the ground or if the destruction of ground zero has sealed them off once and for all.”
“Then we stay vigilant,” President Nance says. “Now, let’s talk about the continuing relocation of our citizens. Since we cannot be sure this is entirely over, I believe we should proceed as planned.”
“Yes, sir,” Joan nods. “I have the numbers right here.”
***
“What is this?” Kyle asks as he dips his spoon in the Mylar pouch once again and lets the orange goop drip from the end. “Tastes like puke.”
“It’s carrot puke,” Lu smiles. “You like carrot puke.”
“No one likes carrot puke,” Kyle smiles.
“I’m so hungry I’ll eat anything,” Dr. Probst says, greedily slurping the orange paste from her own spoon. “Mmmm, yummy.”
They all take a few more bites, grimace and then set the half empty pouches to the side.
“Let’s fill up on water,” Lu says, handing Kyle a bottle and tossing one to Dr. Probst. “We can all use the hydration anyway.”
Dr. Probst takes a long drink then looks at Kyle. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Uh, sure,” Kyle shrugs. “What’s up?”
“How’d you know that Luke guy would react that way?” she asks.
“Moss gave me the idea in Missoula,” Kyle says. “He said Luke was raised on the crazy side of religion. I guess I figured he would latch onto the whole end of day’s thing. The guy seemed like he wanted to believe in a divine struggle more than a terrestrial one.”
“Terrestrial?” Lu laughs. “Where’d you hear that word?”
“Champion may have been small, but it did have a high school, Mom,” Kyle replies. “Grandma wouldn’t accept anything less than a B, remember?”
The thought of Terrie makes the two Morgans frown and then grasp hands.
“Hey,” Kyle says suddenly, making Lu and Dr. Probst jump. “What was the info you wouldn’t tell the president? The guy sent a SEAL Team to get you, so it has to be good.”
“Yeah, well, I’m going to pay for it,” Dr. Probst says, “because there isn’t any info. I saw a big, huge hole in the ground, that’s it. Well, and a lot of monsters coming out of the hole, but nothing they don’t already know.”
“You lied to the President of the United States?” Lu asks, shocked. “You could go to prison for that.”
“I could,” Dr. Probst says, “but I’m betting that the man has bigger things to deal with.”
“So you risked men’s lives just so they would rescue you?” Kyle asks. “They may have been needed somewhere else, you know.”
“I did know,” Dr. Probst nods. “I also knewI needed to be somewhere else. I was forced to jump from a plane that had lost power, landed right next to a hole full of monsters, had to hide and run from those monsters, watched men get killed, watched monsters chase us while I was on horseback, which I’ll never ride again, and then got stuck in a bunker with crazy people. Cheryl needed to go home.”
“Who?” Kyle asks.
“Cheryl. That’s me. I’m Cheryl.”
“Hey, Cheryl,” Lu says. “Thank you for making that call and lying. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t have found my son.”
“Anytime,” Dr. Probst says then stretches. “I think I’m going to find a quiet place and crash out. Wake me up when the cavalry gets here. Or if we need to run from monsters.”
“Let’s hope for the former,” Lu smiles.
She watches Dr. Probst grab a candle then nod her head as she leaves to find a private room.
“Nice lady,” Lu says.
“Yeah, she is,” Kyle says then sighs. “You think he’s dead?”
Lu looks at her son and nods. “Linder? Yeah.”
“So no more running?” Kyle asks.
“No more running,” Lu nods. “Time to come out in the open. Or at least once we know we won’t get eaten.”
“You ever going to tell me the real story?” Kyle says. “Why you never told me about my real dad? Why Grandma thought Linder was?”
“I will, I promise, just not right now. Let me get my strength back and sort it all out.”
“Okay,” Kyle says. “But make sure you sorteverything out. I don’t want to live with lies anymore, Mom.”
Lu leans in and kisses the bandage on his forehead. “I don’t either, baby. I don’t either.”
The ground shakes slightly and Kyle and Lu look at each other.
“What’s that?” Kyle asks.
/>
“I don’t know,” Lu says. “Hold on.”
She gets up, takes a candle, and walks out into the hallway, surprised to see Bolton running towards her.
“Connor! You’re back!” she shouts. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” he says, and then they both stumble to the side as the entire mountain is shaken to its foundation.
“Is it erupting again?” Lu shouts.
“I don’t know!” Bolton shouts back as they clutch at each other and try to stay on their feet.
***
The long, black sedan pulls away from the curb as Dr. Hall turns around and looks up at his boring apartment complex. Having spent most of the last twenty-four hours deep below the White House, he’s not sure how he can go back to being boring old Dr. Blane Hall. He sighs and walks up the stone steps to the entrance.
He fumbles around in his pockets, but quickly realizes, he doesn’t have his keys. He looks at the row of buttons on the wall and tries to figure out who will be home and who has already evacuated. He then realizes he doesn’t really know his neighbors well enough to have the answers he needs, so he just starts pressing buttons, hoping someone will be home.
“What?” someone snaps.
“Hey, sorry, it’s uh, Blane Hall in 3C,” Dr. Hall says as a wind whips up and he pulls his coat tighter around him. “I forgot my keys. Can you buzz me in?”
“You the guy that got mad that time my girlfriend was making kimchi? Kept saying it smelled like Korean farts?”
“Uh...no. Must have been some other guy,” Dr. Hall replies, hoping the guy buys the lie.
“Whatever.”
There’s a loud buzzing and Dr. Hall opens the front door as fast as he can. He makes his way up the two flights of steps and sighs again when he realizes he can’t get into his apartment either. He puts his back to his door and slides to the ground. He closes his eyes and is asleep in seconds.
The radiators in the hallway tick and clank. Dr. Hall wakes up, drenched in sweat, and groggily takes his winter coat off. He slides the sleeves of his sweater up and looks down as static electricity causes his arm hair to rise.
