The Third Wave: Eidolon

by John O'Brien

  The woman, now rigid, suddenly screamed. A ghostly image of herself appeared, pulling outward. A second specter drifted upward, becoming more opaque before vanishing altogether. The man next to the woman frantically attempted to ride away, but in his fear and rush, his foot kept slipping off the pedal. The apparition of the woman lunged toward him, diving into his mouth and nose. The man stopped his attempts to run, his body going stiff. The same thing happened as before, one spirit appearing and a second one bursting forth, yet attached to the man. He screamed as the woman tumbled lifeless to the ground, tangled in the bike.

  What the fuck did I just see? Did I just witness a possession, like Erin mentioned?

  Replaying the movie in his mind over and over, he came to the conclusion that he saw two distinct apparitions. One bursting from each person, yet attached, and a second one drifting above before vanishing. It was like one reached inside and severed something, turning the person into one of those revenant things while their own misted away and they fell to the ground. There were also multiple instances of the person blurring and materializing ahead, therefore closing the distance more quickly than merely running would. And then there was the instance where one vanished into a building, then reappeared.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Sam said, putting away the binoculars and inching back from the ledge.

  “Where are we going?” Erin asked once they were out of sight from the town.

  Sam paused, unsure of their next move. Whatever they did, going anywhere near the town was out of the question. He wasn’t sure where those other two had come from, but it was evidence that there were others around who were normal—but for how long. He wasn’t going to bumble into a situation like those two had. From now on, anywhere there were people was to be avoided at all costs. Sam wasn’t sure of the detection range, or whether it was a line of sight thing or not, but he intended to protect his daughter from what he had just witnessed.

  “Not into town, that’s for sure,” Sam answered.

  “Were there more of those people there?”

  “Yeah. The town is full of them.”

  “What about back to that man’s house? We were fine there overnight,” Erin said.

  “I think that’s as good a place as any. We have to stay quiet and out of sight from the road or any houses on our way there. Do exactly as I say and don’t hesitate. If you see something, tell me quietly—don’t raise your voice,” Sam responded.

  “Okay, Daddy,” Erin replied. “I’m scared.”

  “Me too, sweetie. Me too.”

  After leaving the town behind, Sam took the return much differently. Where he had just been avoiding the houses on their way there, he now saw danger lurking behind every bush, eyes watching from the hilltops, ready to swoop in with their ungodly screams. He felt like he was walking on a fine edge, barely in control. He scuttled from shrub to shrub, checking over the terrain from behind each one prior to moving on. While he had only observed the creatures around populated areas—the houses and town—that didn’t mean they wouldn’t wander out into the fields.

  Even though their faster movement would catch any eyes looking their way, they hustled through the open areas in an effort to keep the time they were visible to a minimum. Each time they had to cross through a fence, Sam’s anxiety level increased exponentially. By the time they arrived back at the long driveway leading to the original man’s house, Sam was parched from the continual stress and lack of water.

  Walking up the dusty drive, a flock of large birds took wing with loud squawks of protest. Shielding Erin, Sam passed by the bodies lying in the late afternoon sun. One was badly mutilated, its torso torn open and a string of intestines snaked across the road. Cautiously, they approached the entrance, Sam listening for any sound coming from within. Just because they’d left the place empty didn’t mean it had remained that way. Leaving Erin hidden in the dirt lot, he softly stepped on the porch, his sidearm gripped and ready.

  The sweet smell of juniper hung in the dry air. He tensed as he cracked open the door, also looking along the exterior walls. The vivid image of the woman morphing through the walls of the building in town loomed large in his mind, and his imagination ran wild. He envisioned one of those things suddenly appearing on the porch beside him. For a brief moment, he wondered if he hadn’t fallen in the cave, whether this was just a nightmare as he lay unconscious. However much he’d like for that to be true, there were few doubts that he was facing reality.

  Nothing magically appeared next to him, nor did the house erupt in an ear-piercing shriek. Stepping inside, the cooler air felt good after spending the day under the hot sun. A slight odor filled the kitchen from the food in the refrigerator, and it wouldn’t be much longer before it became much stronger.

  A search of the house assured Sam that it remained empty. Signaling Erin to enter, he closed and locked the door. From what he’d observed, a locked door wouldn’t prevent the things from entering, but there wasn’t any use making it easier for them. Even though they’d made it to the house, Sam still felt on edge. The past couple of days had taken their toll. With each passing hour, things had become progressively worse, and he hoped that trend didn’t continue.

  He tested the faucet in the kitchen, the water running at first before it quickly sputtered dry.

  Fuck!

  Telling Erin to remain inside, he warily stepped outside in order to locate the well house. He knew there was no way this place didn’t have one. He found a small building, noting the lumps in the driveway, and reminded himself that he’d have to take care of them soon.

  At least the worry over the deaths isn’t a factor anymore. However, there’s far greater ones we have to deal with.

  Inside the pump house, he felt the first measure of relief in a while when he spotted a hand pump. A few strokes brought water splashing to the concrete floor. Cupping one hand under the spigot, he lapped up the cold water. Filling several bottles, he reentered the house.

  Very few words had been spoken between him and Erin on their return journey, and that held. He handed one of the bottles to Erin and slumped down in one of the comfy chairs, staring out through the picture windows.

  Okay, Sam, it’s time to get your shit together.

  In relative safety, though that could change in an instant, he contemplated what they were up against. He knew that he had to assume that whatever happened was more widespread than he’d originally thought.

  Otherwise, there would have been more of a response from the authorities by now. So, I have to assume this is everywhere. That means vehicular travel isn’t an option, which leaves us with our own two feet.

  He recalled the horses in the neighboring pasture.

  There’s that if it comes down to it. We’ll be able to pack more if we have to move, but the fences will slow us down. If we’re chased, we may be able to outrun any pursuit, providing they can’t morph longer distances than what I’ve seen.

  We can’t go near any populated places, and we can’t let those things get within ten feet. Those apparitions lunged into those people from about perhaps ten feet away, so fifteen feet is a minimum. And, no more warnings if there are those ghostly images are accompanying anyone. We just can’t take any chances. If we’re spotted, I’ll shoot them immediately. Speaking of which…

  Sam glanced at the handgun lying on his lap.

  I’m going to need something with more range and accuracy.

  Rising from his seat, he walked into the bedroom, Erin watching his every move. Two gun cabinets stood against one of the walls. He paused and looked at the combination dials on each of the steel cabinets. Just out of curiosity, he walked up and pushed on one of the latches. It swung down, the door issuing a click of opening.

  Well, that’s kind of lucky, he thought, swinging the door wide.

  Inside were a couple of shotguns, two hunting rifles, and three AR-15 style weapons. Three handguns sat on a bottom shelf. He felt like he’d walked into a bank and found the place empty of people
with the safe standing wide open. Picking up the ARs, the smooth actions on each one indicated that they were well taken care of. The hunting rifles were in equally good shape, one a Remington .270, the other a .300 Winchester. The shotguns were 12-gauge pump action. Checking the handguns, there were two .40 caliber along with a 9mm, quite similar to his Beretta.

  Putting the weapons back into their places, he was answered by a satisfying click as he turned the second safe’s lever.

  Fuck me! he mentally exclaimed upon opening it.

  Boxes of ammo filled the interior. There was so much that he wondered how the cabinet hadn’t fallen through the wooden floor. Pulling out a box of 5.56mm, the 62-grain ammo was in good condition. None of the brass cartridges exhibited any degree of corrosion. He randomly checked several others, satisfying himself that they were functional. Two lower drawers had thirty-round magazines for the AR-15s, still in the original packaging.

  Well, there’s one problem solved, he thought, pulling out one of the ARs along with several magazines and boxes of the 5.56mm ammo.

  Erin’s eyes widened when he entered the room armed with his loot.

  “I thought you said we weren’t supposed to take anything,” she exclaimed.

  “Well, that’s changed,” he answered. “We’re operating in survival mode from here on out.”

  “What does that mean, Daddy?”

  “It means that we’re going to do everything we have to in order to keep ourselves safe,” Sam explained.

  He knew that they had transitioned into a different mode, that the world outside was a much different one than when they entered the cave. From here on out, they’d have to scavenge for what they needed and couldn’t take on the usual societal nuances they had in their prior life. Erin’s safety came first, everyone else be damned. They’d operate under those pretenses until he was absolutely sure the situation had been resolved.

  They’d need to procure shelter, food, and water. At the house, they had all three for the moment, but winter would be harsh as food became harder to find. In addition to the small herds of cattle, the river flowing by the house could provide a measure of fish. But, they’d have to be very careful about going outside for any length of time. There were, without a doubt, more of those creatures in the area, and they couldn’t let their guard down for a moment.

  Erin needed to understand what they were up against, so he related what had happened in the town, all the while filling the mags with rounds.

  Erin was quiet for a moment after Sam finished.

  “I could see some of those in the town; not very well, but I saw them. They’re dead, like the man in the car,” Erin stated.

  “What do you mean ‘they’re dead’? They were moving around. Maybe not much, but they were definitely alive,” Sam countered.

  “No, Daddy. I mean they have no soul. They’re soulless. They may be alive, but they’re not there. In their bodies, I mean.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I don’t know how, but I do,” Erin said.

  “Soulless, huh? What about the other ones, then?” Sam asked.

  “I think that’s their soul we can see. And I think they’re like, well, takers. I’m not sure, but their soul needs another one in order to be released. I don’t know how it works, but it feels right,” Erin explained.

  “So, like a reaper or something?”

  “Yeah, a reaper.”

  “Considering what we’ve seen so far, I guess that explanation makes as much sense as anything else. The bottom line is that we need to find somewhere safe where we can scavenge food and water.”

  “What about here?” Erin queried.

  “It may work for a little while, but the winters are pretty fierce. And, at some point, we’ll need to see how far this extends. I’d prefer if we were at home. We may have to strike out for there if this place doesn’t pan out,” Sam replied.

  “Home? How will we get there without our car?”

  “Maybe the horses next door,” Sam stated, noticing Erin’s eyes light up at the mention of getting to ride.

  Sam continued filling the mags, the soft clicks the only sound in the room. He contemplated what Erin said about the creatures and thought her imagination might be running a bit wild. On the other hand, it would explain what he saw. Those who had been going through repetitive motions, perhaps mimicking something they were used to doing, didn’t seem like much of a threat. It was those others, the ones with the ghostly aura around them, that were the major threat.

  Reapers and soulless, eh, he thought, plugging a final round into a magazine.

  Going through the cabinets, he pulled out a box of cereal for them to munch on. The sun sank below the mountains, the ridgelines silhouetted in front of the orange glow of the sunset. The picturesque landscape folded into shadow, transitioning into darkness. Sam pulled the blinds and lit several of the candles sitting on a mantle. He checked to make sure that no light escaped from the house, and then the two of them huddled on the couch and chairs. In the distance, a coyote howled, its forlorn call reverberating across the valley.

  Sergeant Reynolds—Part 1

  Reynolds instantly woke, his eye snapping open without moving when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Beauty sleep is over, Reynolds. I don’t think you’re doing it right, though, because you’re uglier than when you closed those baby blues,” he heard O’Malley whisper in his ear.

  “That’s too bad. I was hoping for a good morning kiss,” Reynolds answered, sitting upright.

  “I simply can’t imagine anyone wanting to kiss that ugly mug of yours. I’m thinking that, somehow, you curled up too tight while baking in your mommy and your ass merged with your face. That’s the only explanation that works. As a matter of fact, I’m quite sure that’s what happened, because every time you open your mouth, shit comes out. Now, get up and start getting those batteries back in our equipment. You and Hanson are on first watch,” O’Malley said.

  A short time later, Reynolds crept out of the cave with Hanson following. They had one more day before they were to head back to the pick-up point. Near the ledge, the two dropped to their stomachs and crawled to their previous position, nestled in the shadow of a large boulder. Through the scope on his rifle, he zoomed in on the surrounding hillsides, searching for movement or an indication that others had moved through the area while they huddled within their cave. He couldn’t see any sign of overturned soil or movement along the slopes. Reorienting on the village below, he put his eye to the scope.

  People were in the streets, just like they were on the previous days. If everything held as it had been, the streets would be vacated by early afternoon as people escaped the heat. Expecting another couple of hours of boredom, Reynolds tracked several of them and wondered what life would be like having to live in a village like the one below.

  Would it a constant state of drudgery? Was there joy? Happiness? Or was it living through one miserable day after the next, just waiting to die?

  He zoomed in on one man and chuckled.

  “Hanson, take a look at that one guy. Third door in from the eastern edge,” Reynolds said.

  He heard a rustle as Hanson shifted position.

  “What the fuck? What is wrong with that guy?” Hanson snickered.

  “Crazy, right?!”

  “He’s a nut job, for sure,” Hanson responded.

  Reynolds watched as the man, wearing the usual loose-fitting top and pants, complete with the soft, round-topped hat, was repeatedly walking into a wall near a curtained doorway. He stepped forward, encountered the wall, and then stumbled backward, only to repeat the process.

  “Looks like he took a little too much from the hookah this morning,” Reynolds said.

  “Well, they can bring some of that shit up here if they want. Might break up the tedium a bit,” Hanson responded.

  Reynolds quietly laughed. “Can you imagine O’Malley on that stuff?’

  “Now, that’s a thought that actually scares
the shit out of me. However, if he did take some, this war might be over in a matter of days. Our new secret weapon.”

  Reynolds shifted his magnified view to another man crouched in the middle of the main avenue through the village. This one was squatting on his heels with his hands gripping the sides of his head. The heat waves made the view a little blurry.

  “Whoa,” Reynolds said as a whitish object shot outward from the crouching figure.

  “What?” Hanson said, looking up from his spotter that he had reoriented on the surrounding countryside.

  Reynolds ignored the question, rubbed his eyes, and put them back to the scope. The man had risen and was jerkily walking down the middle of the road. The opaque inverse shadow continued to hang just to the side, seemingly attached to the man.

  “The man moving erratically in the middle of the street, near the crazy one,” Reynolds said.

  “A hookah party gone wrong?” Hanson jokingly inquired, turning and focusing the spotter scope.

  “What. In. The. Fuck. Is. That?” Hanson remarked.

  “I was hoping you could see that. Thought I might be going crazy in this fucking heat. What is it?”

  “It has to be a mirage of some kind,” Hanson said. “It’s wavering in and out of the dude. Yeah, a mirage or trick of the light.”

  “I saw it shoot out of the man. One second, it wasn’t there, then the next, it just fucking materialized.”

  “I dunno, man. I’d say it’s a mirage.”

  The two watched the man as he continued to walk erratically, the whitish aura floating alongside. The mirage suddenly vanished as it seemed to withdraw into the figure as the man’s hands flew to his head.

  “See, mirage,” Hanson commented. “Just as I thought.”

  Suddenly, it appeared again, shooting out from the man, but still attached. It wavered and seemed to pull as if struggling to get away. The man tilted his head back and opened his mouth wide. If there were a scream associated with the action, Reynolds and Hanson were too far away to hear it.