Orbs II: Stranded

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  The impact jolted Overton backward into the aisle. He fumbled for his rifle as he landed on his back with a thud.

  “Shoot them! Shoot them now!”

  With their HUDs down and weapons low on ammo, Emanuel and Bouma fired off calculated shots, aiming strictly for the creatures’ heads. Within seconds the outside of the bus was covered in watery gore.

  By the time Overton had regained his composure, the aliens were dead. And he hadn’t even fired a single shot. He turned from the window and surveyed his men. He couldn’t see their faces through the tinted visors, but he knew what lay behind the glass.

  Fear.

  If it weren’t for the adrenaline racing through his veins, he would be feeling the same thing. But he didn’t have time for that.

  “We need to find the survivors before another patrol finds us. Take a minute to let your HUDs reboot. Grab some nutrition, and then we’re out of here,” Overton said.

  Bouma reached for a new magazine and jammed it home into his rifle. “Last one.”

  “How long until your device is recharged?” Overton asked.

  Emanuel plopped the metal device onto the seat and examined its side. Glancing up, he said, “Something’s wrong. Only four of the nine bars are lit. It’s not recharging as fast as I thought it would.”

  Overton felt his stomach sink. He knew how fucked they were if the weapon didn’t come back online. He tilted his helmet and scanned the street. A soft, cool blue beam of light pulsated at the end of the street as the aliens approached. He could hear their claws now—the gut-wrenching scratch, scrape of their impending doom. Overton clenched his teeth. He knew he was running out of time to save the others.

  CHAPTER 13

  SOPHIE studied the branches of a maturing apple tree in Biome 1. Green leaves rustled slightly in the breeze of a hidden vent unit far above her. In less than a month, the tree had doubled in size, and would soon be producing fruit.

  It was nothing short of a miracle, but for Sophie the sight was painful. The vibrant green of the leaves and crisp brown bark reminded her of what had been lost outside the safety of the Biosphere. It reminded her she would never again see lush forests or fields of crops. More than anything, it reminded her of the reason she was there in the Biosphere in the first place. The Earth had been dying for decades; the Organics were just finishing what her species had begun.

  Dr. Hoffman—the real Dr. Hoffman, not the monster from her dreams—had said that the Biospheres were humanity’s final hope. He had planted them across the world so that after the Organics had left, the human race could sprout and flourish again.

  Dr. Hoffman had made a fatal miscalculation. The Biospheres would never survive. The Organics would drain the planet of all water, leaving it a desolate and uninhabitable wasteland. Even inside the Biospheres, humanity would shrivel and die. The only way to ensure the human race’s survival was to fight back.

  Sophie stuffed her hands in her pockets and continued across the platform, sucking in the sweet scent of oranges and basking in the cool, crisp air. A faint rustling noise emanated from the crops, and she turned. The kids had taken to playing hide-and-seek between the cornstalks.

  “Hello?” she shouted. “Is someone there?”

  A hoarse whisper responded. “Doctor Winston.”

  The voice was familiar, but oddly distant.

  “Who’s there?” Sophie entreated.

  This time there was no response.

  She shook her head. Was she starting to lose it? Or were the phantom noises and voices real?

  “I said who’s there!” She jumped off the platform with a sudden burst of courage. Standing on her toes, she desperately searched over the tips of the crops, but saw nothing.

  “Over here, Doctor Winston,” said the deep voice. This time it was behind her. She turned. A figure stood outside the sealed front entrance leading to the hallways beyond Biome 1. It was Dr. Hoffman.

  “You aren’t real,” Sophie shouted, closing her eyes. “You aren’t . . .”

  Another voice cut her off. “Sophie?”

  Her heart sank as she opened her eyes and turned to see Holly standing at the opposite end of the Biome.

  “Sweetie, who are you talking to?”

  Sophie glanced over her shoulder one more time to ensure Dr. Hoffman was gone, and then focused her gaze on the apple tree just as a single brown leaf fluttered to the ground.

  * * *

  The mess hall was deathly silent. Holly sat sipping tea, savoring the flavor. With no way of telling how much longer their NTC supplies would last, she didn’t want to waste a single mouthful.

  “How are the kids?” asked Sophie. The voice startled Holly and caused her to knock over her mug. She fumbled for it, but it was too late. A small river of brown liquid raced across the table. Before she could stop it, the tea began to drip onto the floor.

  Sophie strolled up to Holly’s side, and the two looked down at the mess. There was a time when neither of them would have thought much of it. But now the mere sight of wasted water was enough to make them both cringe.

  “I’m to the point where I’m honestly considering drinking that,” Holly said.

  “No, you aren’t,” Sophie responded firmly. “We have food and water to last months. Maybe even longer.”

  Holly grimaced. “But we don’t have much tea.”

  “You can live without caffeine, Holly.”

  The psychologist frowned and made her way to the kitchen to the stainless-steel cabinet. Inside, there was a single jar of tea packets, individually sealed. She rummaged through the container, counting eleven in all.

  Slamming the door shut, she grabbed a plastic cup and walked back into the mess hall, where Sophie was waiting.

  “Where’s the towel?” asked Sophie.

  Holly ignored her and crouched down over the puddle, slowly scooping the liquid into the cup.

  “Holly, what are you doing?”

  She continued scooping the tea into the cup with her index finger. She could feel her cheeks getting hotter by the moment.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “We need to save everything we can,” Holly said. “I know it’s silly, but tea is the one thing that I have left connecting me to the old world. It’s the one thing that makes me feel . . .” She paused to search for the right words. “It makes me feel like I can still have part of my old life.”

  Sophie didn’t reply, but Holly felt her stare. When she finally finished, she rose to her feet and placed the cup in front of Sophie.

  “These are the things we need to make sure we savor,” Holly said. “Without the small pleasures from the old world, we’ll slowly devolve into . . .”

  “Into what?”

  Holly shook her head. “Sophie, why did you hire me?”

  “Because I trust you.”

  “If you really trust me, then you’ll listen to what I have to say.”

  “Okay,” Sophie said crossing her arms.

  “We are in week six of this mission, or whatever you want to call it. I’ve been monitoring everyone’s behavior. Yours especially.”

  “Go on,” Sophie said cautiously.

  “You are slowly becoming a different person. This is common in apocalyptic scenarios. Long-term violence can have strange effects on leaders with strong moral convictions. Good people, good leaders.” She paused. “Good leaders like you.”

  “And you think I’m becoming a bad person?”

  “Not at all,” Holly replied. “That isn’t what I’m saying. You have so much to worry about. Our food supply. Our safety. Emanuel, Jeff, David. Everyone. You’re trying to figure out the Organics, and on top of all that, you’re still suffering from nightmares. This is too much for anyone to bear. Eventually, you will crack.”

  Sophie stiffened. “What are you suggesting, Doctor Brown?”

/>   Holly sighed. “You’re missing the point. I’m simply trying to say you need to be cognizant of the actions of people around you. Have you been watching Sergeant Overton?”

  Sophie seemed to relax at this. “A little bit.”

  “Have you even noticed Bouma and I . . .”

  “Yes. I’ve noticed,” Sophie said with a smile. “Okay, I get what you’re saying. I need to pay closer attention to the team. But I don’t think we’re quite desperate yet. We aren’t animals; we don’t drink tea off the table.”

  Holly nodded sheepishly. “It’s late, Sophie. We should get to bed. I’m going to check on the kids one more time.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Sophie asked.

  “No, I’ll be fine. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Holly felt Sophie’s gaze on her back as she walked out of the room. As soon as she left the room Holly could have sworn she heard something that sounded a lot like a plastic cup being tossed into the trash.

  * * *

  ENTRY 2019

  DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA

  Seventeen sensors have gone off in the past twenty-four hours; the Biosphere has several critical issues. Even with the front entrance sealed, contaminants are finding their way inside. I’ve isolated the problem to the air duct the Spiders hibernated in weeks ago, and I’ve already deployed the last autobot to deal with the problem.

  Besides the pollutants, I’ve been busy monitoring what remains of the team. As the hours pass, the program I use to calculate the possibility of their survival slowly ticks away. With Sergeant Overton, Corporal Bouma, and Dr. Rodriguez out in the field, the Biosphere is left virtually unprotected. Even with the main RVM device functioning at 95 percent, the Organics have still found ways to penetrate the facility.

  I’m worried.

  No, that isn’t the correct word. I’m afraid that if the Biosphere is compromised, the others will die. The children. Dr. Winston. Dr. Brown. Everyone. As I have changed, I have grown attached to them.

  From the millions of programs I’ve downloaded on human emotion, I am beginning to understand a simple term.

  Helpless.

  Without the marines, Dr. Winston and Dr. Brown are completely dependent on the RVM protecting the facility.

  Survival seems impossible. And the team is beginning to see that. In between cleaning toxins and rerouting power, I have observed all the team members’ actions. They are losing hope. They are beginning to understand the reality of the situation.

  No one is coming to help them.

  CHAPTER 14

  ALEX ran. He ran faster than he would have thought possible, his muscles stretching, groaning. Protesting with every motion.

  He was back on the beach, surrounded by Spiders. And they were gaining on him.

  Alex could feel the pulsing in his head, could feel the blood pumping through his veins. He struggled to breathe. Puffs of hot air escaped from his chapped lips. His head bobbed up and down as he ran. Without his helmet, he had a much wider view of his surroundings. And with that view came the terrifying understanding that he was being hunted.

  There were so many of them. Hundreds, if not thousands, chasing him from every direction. Their skin glowed in the darkness, turning the beach into one massive night-light. Fifteen more heartbeats and he was at the water’s edge.

  A group of Spiders advanced, theirs claws tearing through the sand. They were close. So close he could hear their legs whooshing through the air.

  There was nowhere to run.

  He closed his eyes and turned back to the ocean. The waves crashed against the shoreline. A brief moment of clarity washed over him. He felt completely alone. Just him and the endless expanse of the ocean.

  Only it wasn’t as endless as it had once been. He moved his foot and saw the squishy carcass of an oarfish. Normally the giant fish lived in deep waters, which meant the ocean had receded even farther than he had thought.

  He turned to see that the Spiders had nearly reached him. He closed his eyes again. Sucked in a breath. Did he really want to keep running? Did he want to try and escape again? Or was it time to accept his fate and let them take him?

  A half a second was all it took. The Spiders finally caught up to him and pulled him to the ground. He felt their cold pincers pushing into his chest, almost rhythmically. Saw their beady eyes boring into his. He opened his mouth to scream . . . but instead coughed up a mouthful of water.

  “He’s going to be okay!” a voice cheered above him.

  The Spiders’ claws were still pushing on his chest, and he waved his arm to force them away.

  “Give him some space,” someone ordered in a rough voice.

  Alex coughed up another stream of water and struggled to open his eyes. His fear faded as he realized that there had been no Spiders. Instead, a man in a white doctor’s coat was bent over him. Two more faces stood in the background.

  The man with the rough voice stepped forward.

  “You’re a hell of a long way from Edwards Air Force Base,” he said. “If it weren’t for that radio, we would never have found you.” The man looked down at him with hazel eyes. “You okay?” he asked, snapping his fingers in front of Alex’s face.

  The man’s words repeated several times in his head before Alex understood what they meant. He looked down at the drenched radio, relieved to see the screen still glowing. He smiled and blinked the final bits of salt water out of his eyes. With unclouded vision, he saw the letters embroidered on their fleeces.

  NTC.

  His joy quickly turned to anger, and he scooted away from the men across the wet metal deck on his hands.

  These men worked for the company that had hired him for the Biosphere mission—a mission that had almost gotten him killed. They were no better than the Organics hunting him on the beach.

  Closing his eyes, he fell back against the cold surface of the submarine bulkhead and laughed bitterly. Just when he thought he was safe—just when he thought the word might still have meaning after all.

  * * *

  Sergeant Overton cursed. If it weren’t for the gathering Spiders, he would have rescued Jeff and his men and maybe even had time to find another pack of cigarettes. Now the survivors had scattered across the field in all directions.

  He kicked the corpse of one of the aliens and then raised his .45 into the air. It would draw the other Organics’ attention, but he had no choice. He fired off two rounds.

  The red heat signatures of several freed prisoners halted at the west end of the lakebed. They turned in his direction.

  “Come on,” Overton muttered.

  Over his shoulder, he saw Bouma slip behind the cover of a tree, his rifle aimed toward the survivors, just in case.

  The sergeant watched as the group began running toward him. Was it Kiel? Thompson? He counted three figures, two larger ones and that of a child. Had Jeff somehow linked up with the marines? If he had, then he was even smarter than Overton had given him credit for.

  When the first survivor stepped into full view, Overton almost dropped to his knees. He recognized the man’s bulb nose and short frame instantly. He quickly removed his filthy helmet so the younger marine would recognize him.

  “Private Kiel!” Overton shouted, disguising his emotion with formality.

  “Holy shit. What the hell are you doing here? And why are you wearing an NTC uniform?” Kiel asked, moving closer. The other two figures emerged from the darkness.

  “Thompson, is that you?” Overton asked, recognizing the man’s wide shoulders.

  The burly man nodded and shuffled to the side to reveal another figure. Blinking, Overton focused on the face. Overton couldn’t believe his eyes. Jeff’s small chiseled chin tilted up toward him. He’d never been so happy to see a kid in his life.

  “You came to rescue us?” Jeff asked.

&
nbsp; Overton glanced down, overwhelmed. “Semper fi, or ‘Always faithful’ is the marines’ motto for a reason.”

  Even in the dim light, Overton could see a smile sneak across the boy’s face. It was just a hint of one, but it was there. He scanned the boy quickly for injuries. The kid looked tired and dirty but otherwise unharmed. Overton reached out as if he wanted to hug the boy, but instead he patted Jeff on the back.

  Rising to his feet, the sergeant looked from Jeff to his other men. “How the hell did you guys link up?”

  Jeff shook his head. “No time to talk. We need to get out of here.”

  Overton almost laughed. The kid had balls, barking orders at him. He was really starting to like Jeff.

  “He’s right. Let’s move,” Bouma said.

  “Wait,” Overton replied, suddenly serious again. “Did anyone else from the squad make it out alive?”

  “No,” Kiel said. “We’re it. There are other survivors from the farm, but I think they ran when they heard the gunfire,” he said, spinning to point at the field behind them.

  Overton nodded and then stepped toward the road. “All right,” he said. “Well then, in order to stay alive we need to get to the Humvee.”

  Thompson smiled. “That sounds fucking awesome to me.”

  “How’s the RVAMP doing?” Overton asked.

  Emanuel swung the device from his back to his chest and checked the power meter. He made a thumbs-up a second later, but Overton wasn’t sure if he could trust him.

  Taking in a measured breath, Overton decided he had no other choice.

  Bouma scouted up ahead while the rest of them hid behind the bed of a pickup truck.

  A few seconds later a burst of static sounded over the radio. “All clear,” Bouma said.

  Overton didn’t respond; he simply slipped into the shadows and with a nod motioned for the others to follow him.