Project Terminus: Destiny

by Nathan Combs

  Noah loved that laugh, and even though it came from Nina, he’d smiled.

  Nina had been silent after the initial meeting; thus, they’d endured a fragile truce.

  The game plan was simple. Noah would gather food and gear, modify the sled, make a sling for the horse, create a chest carrier for Stormy, and plot a route, allowing Anna time to recoup strength and stamina. He’d known the snow would be too deep for the mare and decided she might last longer if Anna rode the sled and he carried some of the gear while walking ahead, breaking trail as much as possible. When the horse went down, he’d butcher the animal and take what meat he could carry.

  His mind flashed back to the recon Wade had sent to Florida, which showed that the snow ended just south of Atlanta. If it hadn’t migrated farther south, that was 140 miles on foot, in an arctic environment. If they averaged five miles a day, a month of bitter cold hardship awaited them.

  Harsh tropical winds howled through a grove of live oak and bald cypress near Pahokee. Leaves churned wildly through the air. Tree limbs snapped like matchsticks and crashed to the ground. Like a living thing, the storm seemed to pause at the western edge of the thicket, then roared menacingly across the marshy landscape.

  In the center of a miles-wide savannah, near a small pond in a copse, a Burmese-reticulated python hybrid waited for the storm to diminish. The female Borneo bat eater coiled at the base of a gnarled live oak flicked her tongue, scanning her surroundings. Under a full moon hours later, the snake ventured into the plain, slithering cautiously north through the wet saw grass. She had just hatched a clutch of 100 eggs and not eaten for nearly two months. Her tongue flickered, analyzing chemicals in the humid air. The heat receptors in her jaws scanned for prey as she undulated forward. At the base of a cabbage palm, the giant python’s thirty-foot, 300-pound body paused, and her massive head rose up slowly from the ground. Tongue sensing, heat sensors evaluating, she altered course and moved east. Fifteen minutes later, she stopped at the edge of a cultivated field. The snake’s natural camouflage combined with the coppery hue from the dim red light of morning made her nearly invisible.

  Her reptile radar lit up. Prey!

  She detected a dozen heat signatures, chose one separate from the others, and moved stealthily toward it. At twenty feet, her poor eyesight revealed a small, skinny woman kneeling in a row of storm-damaged pepper plants. She slithered to within striking distance. Her mouth opened. She struck. Backward-curved fangs punctured the woman’s head while the python’s body coiled around the woman’s torso, sending wave-like contractions down her form.

  The woman uttered a feeble mewl, her mouth gaped in a silent O as she struggled to breathe.

  Minutes later, the python released her suffocated prey, expanded her jaws, and the body of the dead woman vanished inch-by-inch into the bowels of her massive body.

  Although it was only February, the fierce storm that assaulted southwest Florida blasted through New Fort Terminus with deafening, wall-shaking thunderclaps. Two boys, ages six and eight, were awakened by the sound of booming thunder, and sat upright in their beds as white-hot lightning flashes filled the sky and darted haphazardly through their bedroom window, momentarily exposing the monsters lurking in the corners of the room. Terrified, they bolted for their parent’s bedroom. Halfway to safety, they heard their mother’s voice trickle down the hallway, and they skidded to a halt.

  Their parents were at the kitchen table and Mom sounded worried. “Will we have enough to eat?”

  Terrified to go back and afraid to interrupt, they cowered and listened.

  Minutes later, a brilliant bolt of lightning, followed by an ear-shattering thunderclap that shook the house, ended their confliction. Scurrying into the kitchen, they jumped onto their parents’ laps.

  An hour later, the storm eased, and their mother and father kissed their foreheads and tucked them back into bed.

  Although the door was left open, the boys were still apprehensive. Side by side, with covers to chins, they peered into the darkness. When the monsters didn’t show, their fear began to dissolve, and in little-boy, conspiratorial voices, they talked about the looming food shortage.

  They decided to help. When the recently planted crops were harvested, the food problem would be history, but for now, it would be ultra-cool to surprise their mom and dad with fresh fish. It would help, and it would be fun too. Although they’d been warned repeatedly about the dangers of playing near water, their vision of parental praise kicked their promise to stay away from the neighborhood pond to the back burners of their young minds.

  At dusk, fishing pole in one hand and a can of bait in the other, each of the boys’ shadows preceded them as they skulked up Pinehurst Avenue toward the northern end of the little pond where they were positive they could catch some redear sunfish. The family dog, Skipper, a Labrador retriever-German shepherd mix, ran alongside them, doing dog things.

  The boys’ shadows were long as they approached the pond, and it dawned on them they should have left earlier. But there was still time to catch a few fish, so they hurried to the water’s edge.

  With no warning, their fantasy crashed and burned as a monster launched itself out of the pickerelweed and water lilies.

  The boys froze, their poles and worms dropping to the ground as their dog yelped once when the gator’s jaws clamped down.

  The reptile paused momentarily, snout in the air, then backed into the shallow pond and rolled several times, munching on the dead dog.

  By the time the boys were composed enough to scream, the gator and the dog had disappeared beneath the tranquil waters of the pond.

  Horst got off on making fun of Ransom, the scrawny redneck he’d inherited from Simmons at Fort Oglethorpe. In addition to being the butt of Horst’s deep-seated anger and dark sense of humor, Ransom was his number one gopher.

  The day after his journey down memory lane, Horst intercepted Ransom as he was about to enter the mess hall for lunch. He went nose to nose and clamped down hard on Ransom’s skinny arm. “The Palm Beach patrol we sent out is two days late, Ransom.”

  Horst’s mouth smelled like the south end of a northbound skunk, and Ransom almost gagged. He swallowed hard and held his breath. “Uh…I know. Maybe they got lost in the storm.”

  “Lost, my ass.”

  “Whaddaya want me ta do?”

  Horst released him, shook his head, and snorted. “Do? Do? There’s nothing you can do. It’s not like you can go lookin’ for them. Go get the doc and the Jarheads. Be in my office in ten minutes. Can you do that?”

  Ransom assured Horst he could do that and sprinted away.

  Horst exhaled loudly, closed his eyes, and muttered, “Son of a bitch.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Ransom was back at the doorway of the former principal’s office at Pahokee High School with James “Doc” Peters and ex-marines Eduardo “Rogue” Gutierrez and Jamal “JB” Brown.

  Horst motioned them in. “Have a seat.”

  Ransom remained at the entrance.

  “You too, Ransom. Get in here.”

  After Ransom sat, Horst stood and addressed the group. “We have a problem. Well, a couple, actually. First, the Palm Beach patrol is two days late. We’re not goin’ off half-cocked and sending people lookin’ for their sorry asses.” He shrugged. “I’m not that worried about them. They’ll show up. We’ll give ’em one more day. The real issue is these damn snakes. That storm last night kicked the crap out of our veggies. An hour ago, one of the field workers saw the feet of another woman sticking out of the mouth of a python that, according to her, was thirty feet long. She ran to get help, but by the time they got back, it was gone. Now we all know snakes don’t get that big, but it probably looked that big to her.” He shrugged again. “Apparently she was tiny, but still, it swallowed a grown woman in record time. Then crawled away. So, it had to be huge.”

  Horst stood a
nd walked to a map of Florida taped to the wall, then turned and stared at the two ex-marines. “We need to find a location that’s snake-free. Rogue, take three guys and go south, then around the western side of the lake. Check out Okeechobee and return down the east side.” He turned to Brown. “JB, you take three men to Orlando. Go as far north as Sanford if you have to.” He eyeballed both men for a moment. “You both know what to look for. Just make sure there aren’t any snakes.” He sat down. “You have two weeks.”

  Rogue and JB were capable soldiers, and he trusted them because they followed orders to the letter. Both men nodded, then turned and left the room.

  Ransom was squirming around in his chair, and Horst glared at him, saying, “What’s wrong, Ransom, you look like you’re sitting on an anthill.”

  Ransom hesitated for a second, then said, “Nothin’, Horst. I was just wonderin’ who the snake ate?”

  Horst smirked. “I don’t know what her name was, Ransom. Why, is your girlfriend missing?” Turning to Doc, he raised his eyebrows. “Doc, you said pythons wouldn’t migrate this far north.”

  “I said probably, Horst, not definitely.”

  “Right. So how far north do we have to go to get away from them?”

  “That’s debatable, but I doubt they could survive as far north as Ocala.”

  “Ocala? Jesus, Doc.”

  “Dammit, Horst, I’m a veterinarian, not a python expert.”

  Horst laughed. “You sound like Bones from Star Trek. ‘Dammit, Jim. I’m a doctor.’”

  Doc grinned. “It’s an educated guess.”

  Horst grinned back, then turned to Ransom. “The field workers are scared to death, and you can’t blame ’em. Post snake guards. And make sure they watch each other as well as the workers. Handle it.”

  “Right now?”

  “No. Next month! Jesus, Ransom.”

  Knowing Bill needed to get whatever was bothering him off his chest, Wade stood and said, “Okay, Bill, message received. Horst’s going to be a pain in the ass again, Nina’s still alive, and they’re going to hook up. Did I miss anything?”

  “It’s a gut instinct. I think about shit like that. You don’t.” He laughed. “Besides, that’s what you pay me for.”

  Wade didn’t look amused.

  “Look, Wade, I get why you let Nagel go. You made a deal with him, and you honored it. I know you liked Anna. Hell, we all did. No way it entered anyone’s mind that she was Nina. You’re still an honorable man, but you have one foot planted in the past. That’s the real problem. And it’s dangerous. If things were normal, it wouldn’t matter, but they’re not normal, and they never will be.” He grasped Wade’s upper arm. “If humanity’s gonna survive, you need to grow a set and forget about morals and civility and shit. You better be merciless when dealing with people who step out of line. If you don’t, there’ll be other Horsts and Ninas in our future. And I’m tellin’ you now, if you handle them the same way, we won’t be so lucky next time.”

  Wade pursed his lips and nodded. “You’ve given this some thought.”

  Bill laughed, “Come on, Wade. Humanity’s on the verge of extinction.”

  “How long have we been friends, Bill?”

  “Forever.”

  “Exactly. So, I know that you know that it’s important to maintain standards of civility.”

  Bill shook his head. “Under these circumstances? This ain’t a fuckin’ movie.”

  Wade took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “What do you suggest?”

  “Don’t let anything slide. No matter how small it is. Deal with it instantly, ruthlessly if the situation calls for it. We’re mankind’s caretakers, Wade. We’re gonna have to pass the baton soon. You know that. It’ll be up to your boys, Randal and Chris, then Adam and his sons, to worry about civility. Until then, a generation or two from now, the only mandate we should have is keeping people alive.”

  “When in combat, shoot anything that moves and let God sort them out. That what you’re saying?”

  Bill nodded. “Somethin’ like that.”

  Wade pursed his lips. “Hmm. Message received. But we aren’t going back to the dark ages, Bill. Man’s come too far and paid too great a price to give up civility and the rule of law. We can be firm without turning our backs on civilization. I’ll remind you, we don’t hesitate to take a life when necessary, but we’re not murderers.” He turned his head and gazed over the savannah.

  Bill was saying something, but Wade only half heard him as his mind drifted.

  Fuzzy memories flooded in. The day he’d met Maggie at Starbucks. The joy he’d felt when Adam was born. Building Fort Terminus in the North Carolina wilderness. Battling Nina and her horde of cannibal psychopaths. The clone Nina had sent into Fort Hope to kill him. The frustration he felt at not being able to find her.

  Bill’s voice gradually seeped through the memory fog. “Did you hear me, Wade?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry. What did you say?”

  “Jesus, I’ve been talkin’ to the fuckin’ ozone? I said deaf people suck.”

  After all these years, Wade was still unable to reconcile Bill’s intellect with his penchant for talking like a sailor. Although he looked like a bald-headed, 250-pound version of the Hulk and was just as dangerous, he also had a heart of gold, held two master’s degrees, and was highly intelligent.

  Wade chuckled. “Sorry. Really. I am. Guess we’re both getting old.”

  Bill grinned. “Speak for yourself.”

  Although he was on the north side of sixty-five, Wade didn’t look it. Didn’t act it. Good genes and a regimen of physical fitness kept his six-foot, 185-pound body fit. Graying hair at the temples and a few prominent wrinkles were the only indicators that he was over fifty.

  Wade grunted, and a nostalgic, faraway look played over his face. “In a way, I miss Fort Terminus. It was remote but defensible. Peaceful. Fort Hope was almost impossible to defend. Fortunately, the nuclear reactor made up for it.” A brief mental comparison between the facilities appeared in his mind. “It’s not perfect, but I like New Fort Terminus. A lot.”

  Bill nodded. “Yeah, I agree. I like it here too. Moore Haven’s an upgrade.”

  Wade clapped Bill on the back. “It’s 0850, time for the staff meeting. We have a new gator problem. We can talk about this later.”

  Chapter Three

  Weather or Not

  Three days after Fort Hope closed its doors forever, Anna was still sleeping and Noah sat in the kitchen, close to the stove where the temperature was quickly becoming intolerably hot. Briefly he wondered if Anna had flashbacks too, but decided it didn’t matter. They were in trouble and had to get to Florida.

  Standing, he moved away from the stove, dismissed the nightmare, and sacked the memory monster.

  Nina hadn’t made an appearance since the day he’d met her. It was still problematic for him to think of Anna and Nina as the same person. But he knew if they were going to survive, he could never forget that Anna was Nina. Or that Nina was Anna.

  Regardless, for better or worse, they were ready for the trek to Florida.

  After the stove ate another log, Noah tossed back the remainder of his coffee, poured a fresh cup for Anna, and went to wake her.

  “It’s six-thirty, Anna. Time to go.”

  She smiled a smile that scorched his retinas, kissed him tenderly, and dressed quickly. “Is the kitchen warm?”

  He grinned. “It’s doable.”

  “I have to change and nurse Stormy. Sit with me?”

  Standing next to her as she nursed the baby, he marveled at her beauty, and his heart skipped a beat. Watching Stormy’s eyes fixated on Anna’s eyes while she suckled was a sight he would never tire of, and he lost himself in the moment.

  Anna’s voice penetrated his trance. “Noah…Noah…we’re done, Noah.”

 
He grinned sheepishly, bent, kissed her, asked her to get ready, then walked to the living room and pushed on the front door.

  It was iced shut.

  With shovel in hand, he went through the adjacent window and sunk into thigh-high snow. After shoveling the porch, he used his arm to brush off the railing and placed a pocket thermometer on it.

  Straightening up, he gazed at an alien but beautiful world of overwhelming whiteness. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, more vibrant than he had ever seen. Not a cloud. Not a hint of wind. Other than the sound of his own breathing and heartbeat, it was eerily quiet, and he watched, mesmerized, as his breath condensed into clouds of vapor and vanished in the frigid morning air.

  He read the thermometer.

  Eleven below.

  Anna was ready but nervous as she peered out the window, watching him.

  After chipping the ice from the door hinges, Noah turned the knob and pulled. The door opened grudgingly, inch by reluctant inch. Halfway open, it jammed, and he put his shoulder into it.

  The unexpected noise of the door slamming against the wall was like a cannon shot in the silence of the room and caused Anna to jump and gasp. Wearing a sheepish grin, she hugged him, then pulled away and spread open the top of her parka. “Look,” she said.

  The fire was out, and although the temperature in the living room was below freezing, Stormy slept peacefully in the sling they had crafted.

  Noah unzipped her parka and checked the straps around her waist and over her shoulders. He re-zipped the coat, removed a glove, and caressed her face. “The snow on the porch is more than two feet deep. It’s going to be deeper in the open. Not to mention the drifts. The horse isn’t going far. I’ll get her.”

  “Oh, Noah. Maybe if we…”

  The look on his face stopped her. “I’m sorry, Anna.”

  As he turned to get the mare, Nina grabbed his arm. “Noah, I—”