Ralph barged his way in and headed directly toward three seven-foot tall standing computer terminals that sat in the middle of the cold room.
“These are servers. They hold the most important information, as a back up. Tens of thousands of terabits,” he said.
He confidently walked to the middle tower and with a press of a button, a section folded down. There was a thick tray that Ralph pulled out. He then unclipped it. It revealed a computer screen and keyboard.
Bachman and Emma stood to one side, watching. This was out of their area of expertise. They realized, even if they found the room, they wouldn’t know what to do with the equipment. They both knew their way around computers, but this looked like nothing they had ever used before.
“Right then.” Ralph clicked his knuckles. “I hate computers.” His short tubby fingers started flying over the keyboard. The sound of clacking keys filled the cold room.
“I just have to get into the fail safes, and readjust the temp, and up the heat level. Cancel that. Delete that. Almost done.” Lines of raw data scrolled down the screen. He had to change the text in the subroutine, inside the programming.
There was a sound in the corridor outside.
Emma moved to the small window in the door.
A spidery leg slowly lowered into view from around the corner. She couldn’t work out what it was from – a pod, a sheep, it could be anything.
“Oh fuck!” Ralph stated. “Look!”
He was pointing to an inlaid window on the screen. It showed a view from a camera up in the main warehouse. There were thousands of creatures.
“Shit!” Bachman said while looking over Ralph’s shoulder. “Have you hit the button yet?”
“All done,” Ralph replied. “But it’s recalibrating.” He pointed to a small bar.
“Seriously?” Bachman said. He was looking at an innocent-looking progress bar slowly fill up.
“We have a problem over here,” Emma announced.
“Can it wait?” Bachman said as he continued to stare at the screen.
Just as he asked that Emma shrieked as the doors slammed inwards. She used all her strength to keep the creature on the other side of the wooden barrier. But she was too weak; the doors burst inwards.
219
The Furnace
On the surface in the main warehouse
Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania
The towering metal doors started to screech open, sending a high-pitched metallic shriek throughout the massive warehouse, along with the clanking of large gears grinding.
The creatures pushed forward, eager for the fresh air and sunlight.
The black spores started to race across the ceiling like a wave of undulating oil.
Just as the large pod raised a spidery leg, a tentacled covered, deformed sheep tried to race ahead, to be the first to exit. The pod slammed a spiky leg through the sheep’s body, pinning it to the concrete.
It would be the first to leave.
The sheep thrashed and spurted black blood everywhere, but its screams of death were lost to the excited sounds of the creatures behind it. The excited animalistic roars of the animals was deafening.
The large pod pulled its leg free and went to take its next step out into what was left of the dying world of man.
Suddenly, the large doors reversed and started to grind shut.
The creatures roared in anger.
With a bang, the main blast door was slammed closed, just missing the large pod, and crushing the body of the deformed sheep.
A loud siren started blaring. Red lights flashed on the walls.
Then a computerized female voice started counting down.
10…
9…
8…
The creatures fragmented, no longer queuing to exit the main warehouse.
7…
6…
They didn’t know what was happening. However, with the main doors now closed they tried to rush to the large elevator.
5…
4…
The lift was immobile – shut down and locked in place in preparation for the quick flash of the flames of The Furnace.
3…
2…
However, it would be no quick flash this time, due to being overridden and set to thousands of degrees. The warehouse was now a colossal crematorium.
1…
The bright billowing flames sprang from hundreds of small nozzles, like flamethrowers, amplified over and over, engulfing everything in a tsunami of fire.
The creatures had nowhere to run. They climbed over each other, in their panic. Tentacles shriveled and burst into flames. Flesh melted from the deformed bodies. Bones were turned to crumbling powder.
The smaller pod’s legs ignited and cracked, and then they exploded into a shower of black pus.
The black spores across the ceiling ignited as if a match was put to gas. In one continuous flare, the spores vanished, replaced with raining ash.
The largest pod was the last to die. It didn’t try to run, or thrash about. Its outer surface frizzled and started to burn. Cracks appeared and black ooze dribbled from them, which was instantly sent up in a burst of flames. Its towering legs gave way, and it dropped to the superheated floor, as fire filled every inch of the warehouse, consuming all the oxygen. Its skin started to blister. Then, looking like a balloon had simply popped, the large pod exploded – incinerating as it flew apart, with its remains landing as dust.
Countdown completed, the voice announced.
220
On the surface outside the main warehouse
Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania
The large metal doors glowed red in the heat, and hissed as the metal slightly buckled.
Outside everything was calm, with just the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.
The deformed sheep were crushed in the heavy doors. All apart from one small section. A piece of a tentacle, no more than an inch long, lay motionless on the ground. It twitched once, and flipped over.
Suddenly, a dark shape swooped down and scooped the tentacle up in its beak. The crow flew off into the distance.
PART NINE
Keep Running
221
Bachman, Emma and Ralph
Zone 4
The underground bunker
Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania
Emma lay on her back with her arms in the air. The door was pushed open with great force, and she was thrown backwards into Bachman and Ralph. She was expecting something to bite down any second and then shake her to death. She kept her eyes closed tight; she didn’t need to see the end coming.
If she was honest with herself, she was tired of running, tired of the drama. Every time they gained a win something worse would happen. It was never ending. The body and mind can only handle so much.
Let it be over quickly; she thought. Mum and dad, I will see you soon.
“My god man! Pete, is that you?” Ralph shouted.
Emma slowly opened her eyes. Tentacles and gore covered the floor. A long spidery leg lay on the tiles. However, stood, still holding another severed leg, was a young man who didn’t look old enough to shave. He was covered from head to foot in blood with tentacles draped over his shoulders and wrapped around his stomach.
“Ralph, I thought I heard your voice a mile off,” the young man said. “Need a hand up?” he asked while offering Emma an outstretched palm that was covered with blood.
“You scared the shit outta me!” Emma stated while knocking his hand away. “What the hell are you wearing?”
“I saw it on TV once. Where the characters wore the blood and gore of the zombies, and they were able to walk unmolested through the horde. The creatures thought they were one of them.” A clot of blood plopped onto the floor with a splat.
“And it works?” Bachman asked as he climbed to his feet.
“No idea, I’ve not run into any creatures yet, only you three.”
Emma slowly stood up.
“I heard Ralph talking, and as I was making my way toward his voice, I swear I heard something behind me. So I ran.” He wiped blood off his face. It dripped from his dark curly hair. His blue eyes shone through the gore. He smiled, displaying a wall of shining white teeth.
“Besides, there’re only a few creatures wandering around, most headed to the surface.”
Emma tried to back away from the blood that was pooling on the floor.
“Also,” he commented with a flick of his wrist that sent blood droplets across the computer terminal, “it’s really creepy outside; it’s gone all dark and it’s raining ash.”
222
Alex and Naomi
On the deck of the cargo ship
Somewhere off the shore in New York State
They both stared at the grappling hook as it started to slide back across the deck.
“Stop it from latching on,” Alex shouted, as he ran towards the fast-moving hook. He picked it up and ran with the hook’s momentum. He then tossed it over the side before it had chance to grip the railing.
Another hook whizzed passed his ear, quickly followed by another.
“Screw this, I’m outta here,” Naomi stated as she took off towards the main superstructure, at what she considered a run, which was, in fact, an awkward waddle.
Alex watched the two hooks racing towards him. There was no way he could stop them both. One latched on to the side with a loud clang. The cord pulled taut. He tried to grab the other but the speed it was moving wrenched it from his hands. He had to be careful; he could easily lose a finger or the sharp hook could rip into his flesh and drag him along.
If only he had a knife, he could cut the thick cord.
Another hook sailed over the railing. This one grazed his shoulder. It was becoming too risky. If one hit him in the head, it would be game over – insert coin.
Where was everyone else? Surely they could see the ship – they sure as hell must have felt the impact? Why am I the only one trying to defend us? he wondered.
He quickly glanced over the side. Men with automatic rifles strapped over their shoulders were repelling up the taut ropes.
“Ah shit!
223
Stu
On the water in a boat, heading towards the shore
Somewhere off the coast in New York State
Stu’s head was banging like a bass drum. Someone had hit him hard. His eyes were going in and out of focus. But none of that mattered, all he cared about was reaching his daughter, Hanna. She was all alone on the beach, surround by the creatures. She was so young. He had to reach her, to protect her. She was all he had left.
A loud sound monetarily distracted him. It sounded like something had hit the large container ship. But it wasn’t his problem – Hanna was. He ignored the screeching of metal on metal.
He promised his wife he would look after her and the children. He had already broken that promise when Clare died, along with their other two children, Clark and Amber. It was only the thought of finding Hanna that had kept him going – kept him alive. He was not going to lose her again. He would find her and protect her. He would keep the promise uttered when he found his wife had drowned in the dirty ditch water while he lay unconscious.
He had never felt so helpless in his life than when he first woke up and found three of his family dead, and one missing, and the fact he wasn’t able to save them. He wasn’t even conscious as their lives slipped away. He never got to say good-bye, or hold them in his arms as the last of their life faded. He simply found cold lifeless bodies.
He felt he had no closure – there was no last words. There was nothing to bring him peace of mind.
Once he found his lost daughter, he would do everything in his power to protect her, save her from the dying world of man. Nothing else in his life mattered. Just Hanna and him. Together they would survive this end of days. Together they would be okay.
The mist from the prow bouncing in the choppy water sprayed over his hot face, cooling him down. His hands gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. He squinted his eyes, trying to see the shoreline.
She has to be there. I will find her. Hang on Hanna baby, daddy’s coming. We will soon be together baby.
224
Troy
In his cabin on the cargo ship
Somewhere off the shore in New York State
Troy lay holding onto the photo of his dead wife. He ignored the shouting and screaming in the mess hall outside. He didn’t care about any of that any more. He was tired of running. Tired of fighting. Tired of being scared all the time, never knowing when death would come for him. He had seen so many die. There was nothing good left to live for. All the good has been stripped from the world. All that was left was suffering and death.
He was going to go on his own terms. He wasn’t going to move from the bed. He lay on his back with his eyes closed. The next face he would see will be Sonja’s looking down at him, with her beautiful smile and flowing, radiant hair.
The last image he had of her was on the mortuary table. The cold steel, dull beneath her pale skin. Her hair wet with blood and her face marred by grime, and loosened by death.
However, he chose to remember the vibrant Sonja, the woman who lit up a room by entering it. A woman who made heads turn. She was his star – his reason for living. Now she would be his reason for dying.
She had always been there for him. Together they battled everything in life – whatever it threw at them. Nothing ever took the smile from her face and the light from her heart. He missed her raw energy – her strength.
There was a ruckus outside. Chairs were knocked over. People were shouting. He ignored it all. His door was locked, and nothing would get him to open it.
Someone tried the door handle. They rattled it and pushed against the door.
Troy kept his eyes closed. Nothing short of a miracle would make him change his mind.
Suddenly the door bust in, splintering the frame.
Troy’s instincts kicked in, and he sat up in bed.
Father Frank stood filling the doorway. He was wearing a large dressing gown. In one hand he held his faded leather bible. In the other was an empty wine bottle.
“What the hell are ya jus’ lying there for?” Frank swayed slightly. He dropped the bottle. It hit and rolled away, now the vessel was slightly leaning to one side.
“Come on, all hands on deck, we have a battle to win!” It was followed by a loud belch.
225
Smokie, Lindell, Terrance and Caroline
On a walkway on the superstructure of the cargo ship
Somewhere off the shore in New York State
“Why aren’t they firing?” Smokie asked. She watched the ragtag collection of men race around the coastguard ship. Only the man who gave the threat stood motionless, staring across the gap. Smokie got the sense he was staring at her.
“Maybe they don’t have that many bullets, and they’re waiting until they’re on the ship, so each one counted?” Lindell said. “I have an idea,” he said before racing off.
“Where the hell is he going?” Caroline asked.
“Hell if I know,” his brother said.
Smokie looked down towards the boat that had rammed them. She could see people climbing up ropes with their rifles swinging on their backs. They were halfway up. Within minutes the container ship will be swarming with automatic wielding vigilantes. She got the impression they would not be taking any prisoners. She was also confused as to why they hadn’t fired the main cannon.
Maybe, she thought, just like Lindell said, they don’t have much, if any ammo.
“We need to break out the weapons, and barricade ourselves into the superstructure,” Smokie announced. It was the most secure part of the vessel. The wheel house was practically a safe room, built that way in the event the ship was boarded. She knew that in some areas of the old wor
ld pirates had still sailed the waters – especially if the vessel had steered anywhere near the coast of Africa.
She could see some of the people on the coastguard ship were climbing into a speedboat. It was being lowered over the side. The large vessel was too big to pull up along side the container ship. It was too dangerous to move them too close together – one big wave could crush them into each other.
Caroline nodded in recognition to Smokie’s suggestion and set off at a jog.
This shouldn’t be happening; Smokie reasoned. We supposedly found a safe haven. Somewhere the creatures can’t reach us. And then this happens, attacked by a bunch of fucking humans! She was mad.
Smokie hated injustice.
After everything we’ve been through, we deserve a fucking break – we had caught a break, only for it to be snatched away be these fuckers.
She was getting madder by the minute. Her hands gripped the railing. Her mind was racing. They needed to get the upper hand. The attackers may be on a ship with more fire power, but the size of theirs had to count for something.
“I need a radio,” Smokie shouted. She noticed a few others standing on a walkway above them, looking down, witnessing the attack. Kate nodded and vanished from view.
“I will get down and check the hull. We still need to see if the metal has been breached,” Lindell stated. Before Smokie agreed, he raced off leaving her standing alone.
Smokie stared across at the man who talked over the loudspeaker. The man simply raised a hand and pulled it across his throat. The gesture was obvious.
The man was seriously pissing Smokie off. Shit, we need a miracle.
“Here,” a voice above shouted. A radio was tossed down.
The Sixth Extinction America Omnibus [Books 1-12] Page 49
