by Alex Myers
"What the hell are we supposed to do on the submarine?"
“If it comes to it—and I don't think it will by the way—kill them before they take it over, or scuttle it.”
"Have you lost your mind!"
"You just realizing that? We just hang out by the hatch and torch them with a flame thrower if they try to get onboard. Piece of cake. By the way, I've got to go up to the coliseum and run security detail. It's some kind of rock concert and rumor is the Apocs are going to be there. You want to go?"
"Shit no!"
"Why, what do you have going?"
"I'm going to spend one of my last days on earth on the beach soaking up some rays." "Oh, the writer's life. I'll see you tomorrow morning bout eight—if not sooner. Oh yeah, Ethan?"
"What Bill?"
"Can you catch the tab for me? I left my wallet in my briefcase."
Bill turned without waiting for Ethan's answer. He winked at the staring waitress on his way out the door.
You're welcome shithead, Ethan thought. He picked up the bill and his keys. Just don't get us killed, OK shithead?
CHAPTER 22
FULL AND NO GIRL
Ethan smiled as he turned his key in his front door lock. I'd rather buy Bill clothes than have to feed him, he thought. He tossed his keys on the breakfast nook and was surprised how cheerful and inviting the room felt. Not only had he left the curtains pulled open, but he had left the patio door open also. The breeze blew in and it smelled fresh and clean. He was never able to figure out if he smelled the salt air. He remembered reading novels where the old sea dogs longed to breathe in that old sweet smell of the sea. The fragrance was appealing whatever it was. Then he remembered the woman on the beach.
Ethan scoped the seashore noting how the different angle of the sun accentuated the change in the scene. It was deserted compared to earlier. Glancing at his watch he realized his twenty-minute talk with Bill had turned into two hours. He walked out to the bleached wood deck and watched the sun set.
Looks like some clouds starting to move in, he thought. Maybe I can get a walk in before it starts to rain. He went back into the house to change and cursed himself for not walking down to the woman on the beach. He felt like there was some real connection there, but now she was gone forever.
CHAPTER 23
HENRY
After leaving the hospital, Henry caught a bus to Dick Haloran's empty house. Dick must have left in a hurry because the front door was open and the car in the driveway. Henry left a note, found an extra set of keys in the cupboard, and took Dick's car. Henry made it as far as the first roadblock before three policemen turned him back. He tried several of the side streets before giving up on the idea of driving. He pulled over, rested his head on the steering wheel, and thought about his options. His eyes pulled to focus on a storm drain on the residential street.
The sewers, of course! Henry thought. All these drains all drain into the main line that empties into the bay across from my house. Henry had explored the drains as a kid when they were first installed. I bet it's been fifty years since I used to play down there. I hope I still fit.
Henry stood over the hulking metal storm grate with trepidation. The brown, rusted metal looked as if it hadn't been moved in years. The eerie sounds of water trickling underneath brought beads of sweat to his forehead. The grate was clogged with leaves, litter, and someone's old tennis shoe. He bent over to peer into the darkness.
Maybe this isn't the best of ideas. Perhaps I should try to skirt my way around the roadblock. The sounds of men and machines from the direction of the impasse made him quickly forget that notion. I'll probably get lost down there. Just look at all this junk—I'll likely step in every piece of dog crap ever washed down this drain. Never gonna be able to lift that cover off either. Not going to be able to see down there, better check and see if Dick has a flashlight in his car.
Henry searched the auto with no luck. He realized he was just stalling when he double-checked the trunk. Lifting the carpet cover over the recessed wheel-well he found a single road-flare under the spare tire. It was the kind with the end that came off that you struck against the top to light. Better save this, he thought as he closed the trunk and ambled over to the grate; might need it to get myself out of a jam.
He slipped the flare into his pant’s back pocket and leaned down over the entrance. Clearing away most of the debris, he grasped both hands firmly around the iron bars of the grate. God willing Nattie, I'll be able to move this thing and get back to the house so I can save ya. He took a deep breath, tightened his grip, and pulled, fully expecting the top not to budge an inch. The cover traveled upwards as such a speed Henry just missed hitting himself in the head with it.
This thing must weigh, seventy-five, eighty pounds, he thought. He was holding it to his side with one hand. It looked like it hadn't been moved in years, but I'm swinging it around like it was made out of aluminum. Now that he thought about it, since leaving the hospital, he had felt better than he had in years. Must just be the excitement, he thought as he dropped to his knees and swung a leg down to find the ladder. Finding the first rung, he lowered himself down the drain replacing the iron cover over the entrance as he went in.
The first thing Henry noticed was that his eyesight must have improved. In the cavern-like darkness of the storm drain it was as bright as a moonlit night. This bothered him. As kids they burned oil-soaked rags tied to sticks to see. Now he could see even better than he did with the bright torch back then. The second thing he noticed was that the walls, ceiling and floor now had a thick growth of a slippery, hair-like fungus. It was as if with every footfall it was landing on a wet, thick shag carpet. He sloshed ahead making pretty good time.
Something above on the street, he couldn't decide if he heard the cops first, or smelled them. Not that they stunk or were excessively loud, it was as if all his senses were stronger, or keener, or maybe just tied into his brain better—in a way he could better process the input.
All this excitement must have gotten me all hopped-up, he thought, dismissing it as an ordinary occurrence. I'll be goddamned though if I don't feel like some kind of animal on the prowl.
He finally saw the opening nearest the police at the roadblock.
It was the sixth opening he had passed, meaning there were three grates for every block. Just fifteen more grates and I'll be home.
Henry moved closer to the light that was cutting in from the street above. The air in the drain was heavy and wet and as he moved closer the air had a sweet smell. He realized this was the smell of the three policemen. Two were sitting on front of the squad car and the third stood near by.
"The strangest thing happened," one of the cops sitting on the car said. "My brother works maintenance over at Oceana Naval Airbase and they sent him home yesterday with no explanation. Said that he could have off ‘til next week."
"Pretty strange stuff," the young cop next to him said. Henry wondered if he was even old enough to shave. "Think they got some top secret stuff going on over there?"
"That's my guess. We live over on General Booth boulevard, right in the flight path, and I went out about midnight last night to have a smoke. Couldn't sleep you know, and the wife won't let me smoke in the house with the new baby and all. Anyway, I must of sat there and watched four or five big C130 transport planes come in and land. Then a mega-mother, a C5 Galaxy came lumbering in. Those planes were carrying a hell of a lot of something," the first man said, looking very anxious.
"Speaking of smokes," the standing officer said moving closer to the other two, "do you think I can bum one off ya?"
The man sitting shook out a cigarette from a pack hidden in his breast-pocket, taking one for himself and offering one to the other two. All three lit up in a cloud of tobacco and sulfur that stung Henry's nose. The standing officer took another drag and leaned in confidentially to the other two. "My wife works over at Dam Neck," he said very softly, looking over each shoulder in case he might be overheard. "
She's a personal secretary for Admiral Brighton. She said Old Man Brighton and his staff are jumpy as hell. They've been having closed door meetings with all these Washington-looking-types the last few days."
"Does she know who they are or what the meetings are all about?"
"She didn't until this morning. Today at lunch, she told me she recognized one of the men. She thinks it was Admiral Prescott, in a flight suit, no less."
"Tex Prescott! The Secretary of Defense is here, in Norfolk! Why?"
"I asked her the same thing. She said they're being more secretive than ever. She said she remembered Admiral Prescott from when she used to see him in the halls over at NavCom." He took a worried hit off the cigarette and continued; "Said too, that there were three or four other big-time officers with Prescott, all in camouflage too. I guess none of them were wearing insignias, but something about the one guy made her think he was a Marine."
"What does she think this all means?"
"She doesn't have any idea, except that something big is a ‘brewin’. Now, me, I think it's something to do with this place." The officer thumbed the direction of Oceanview over his shoulder.
Henry silently took in all the information. He could literally taste the fear rolling off the men. He stood out of the light and watched them.
The young policeman jumped down off the hood of the car took a hard hit off his cigarette and flicked it away. His momentum seemed to stop as he broke out in a fit of coughing. "I usually don't smoke," he said wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "But I tell ya, this place is really starting to give me the creeps. Everyday we move the blockade another block further out. Lately no one's been going in or out. And the noises, man they're enough to get anyone smoking. All the screaming and yelling, I’m telling you, it gets to your nerves after a while."
The older man standing, looked off toward the bay, shook his head and stepped-out his smoke. "If there is anybody left in there I think that's where they'll stay. What I hear from the helo-pilots, there hasn't been even an Apoc moving around—day or night. Gets them a little upset too. They've been issued a 'shoot on sight' order and they're not getting to have any fun."
Got to watch out for helicopters . . . among other things, Henry thought. He strained to see, but could only hear the sound of an approaching vehicle.
"Sergeant Taber," a voice yelled over the sound of an idling engine.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Have the men move the barricade another two blocks out and set up. After you see to that, head up north and get one man from each of the barricades. Have the rest of them move down on their respected streets and set up down on Tidewater Drive. Take the men you gather with you back to base camp for reassignment."
"Where we off to?" the Sergeant asked.
"Don't know a whole lot about it. Something about a rock group playing up at the Coliseum tonight. Word has it the Apocs are going to make some kind of little demonstration. But if I were you I'd be ready for anything. You know what Milton once said: 'Prudence is that virtue by which we discern what is proper to be done under the various circumstances of time and place.' So in other words I'd be ready for anything."
Henry watched the three men look at each other in bewilderment. All three seemed to wonder the same thing: Who the hell was Milton? Henry was about to continue in the storm drain, feeling that he wasted too much time already, when something the lieutenant said made him stop dead in his tracks.
"Their leader, this Abaddon guy is supposed to be up there, leading the demonstration."
Just hearing the name set Henry off in a mad rage, his anger nearly choking him. He ground his fingernails into the palms of his hands. His eyes were blazing a bright crimson.
Come on fellas, let’s get moving. The concert starts at 1900 hours and we've got to have everything in place by 5:00 . . . hold on a second . . . "
If Henry would have been paying closer attention he would have heard the man moving closer to the opening. As it was he didn't realize anything was going on until he saw the man's face suddenly appear staring down at him through the grates.
"Who the hell's down there?" the man yelled.
Henry blinking with bafflement and stood there frozen until he saw the sun glint off the man's pistol. His confused thoughts whirled as he backed away from the opening. He fell over a pile of trash and landed hard on his seat, water splashing and soaking his pants. The man was pointing the gun straight at him.
"I said, who the hell is down there? Answer me or I'll shoot." The man's voice echoed through Henry's ears. He was too scared to look at the man, yet too scared to look away. He knew he should answer him but his old lips refused to move.
The man unleashed two shots from the big gun into the storm drain.
The shots lit up the sewer in strobe-like lightning. The first bullet hit high, to Henry's left about two feet. The second, hit head level and barely an inch to the left, throwing a shower of sparks and concrete onto Henry. He was afraid to breathe, for sure the next shot would be dead-on.
"Did you get it, Lieutenant McCullough?"
"I'm not sure," Bill McCullough said. "I can't see a damn thing down there."
"What did you see?"
"I didn't ever see anything, it's just this feeling I get. It's like a buzzing sound in my ears whenever there's a Apoc around. Do one of you men have a flashlight?"
"Let me get it for you, Lieutenant."
Henry saw McCullough stand up and move away from the grate. He used the diversion to get to his feet and move further into the shadows. He became aware of how loud his footsteps were in the soggy tunnel. Henry found a tunnel that angled off to the right, he stopped and turned around to see if the man was going to follow him.
“Lieutenant,” Henry heard the Sergeant ask, "do you see anything now?"
Henry could see the high-powered beam making precise and orderly sweeps back in the direction he came from. He listened again as he saw the light suddenly stop.
"There, look where the algae on the floor has been scraped up. Something was down there, all right, but whatever it was, is gone now."
"Do you want us to go down there and check it out?"
"No time for that now, we've got to get humping if we're going to be at the Coliseum by 1700 hours."
"Do‑‑do you think it was an Apoc‑‑an Apoc, here?" the young police officer asked.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was," Bill said putting a toothpick in his mouth and standing up. "I can't tell you why I think that, though. I just hear this kind of buzzing in my ears whenever I'm near one. It's nothing I can explain. It's weird, real weird."
What the hell was that cop saying? Henry pondered. He thinks I’m one of them! Bullshit, by-golly.
"And I'm sure my ears are going to be buzzing out of control tonight at the concert—supposed to be a whole bunch of them there. I even heard the leader‑that Abaddon character, is going to show up."
"What are we going to do? Kill 'em all?"
"Swift said, 'A fool can ask more questions than the wisest can answer.' But I can tell you this much," Bill said as he climbed in his patrol car. "Before a thunderstorm there is a buildup of tension that is only relieved by the explosive force of thunder and lightning." Bill upholstered his gun. "This is thunder," he chambered a bullet and fired a shot into the air. "And that my friends is the lightning. You see my counterparts in human affairs say there must be a clear distinction between the penalties for small and great crimes. And the things this son of a bitch is guilty of, killing him would be too kind. Retribution for wrongdoing must be swiftly and surely applied if greater problems are to be prevented. And mark my words, there's only going to be one of us walking away from this concert tonight—either him or me."
Bill reholstered his weapon and put the car in gear. “If I was one of y’all I’d bet against the Apoc,” he said with a smile, "cause I got a hot date this weekend." He drove away and left the three men shaking their heads.
ABADDON! Well lieutenant, you're gonna get
a little unexpected help from an ole' codger named Pigott, even if I do make your ears buzz. Henry, thought as he turned and slipped into the shadows that lead into the heart of Oceanview.
The going was a breeze. Henry found his eyes gradually adjusting to the dim light. In his mind he was working out a plan. I've got a few things in the toolshed that'll give Mr. Abaddon time to think twice 'bout messin round where he ain't welcome.
Henry easily avoided the large clumps of debris littering the drainage pipe and stayed to the high spots of water trickling down the middle. As he approached the last of the openings he found it harder to concentrate. The sound of a hundred bees buzzing was in his ears.
What the hell is going on, he wondered. I wonder if this is what the policeman McCullough was talking about. That must mean I'm getting close to some Apocs—.
The lone hulking figure seemed to come right out of the wall. "What are you doing here ole' man?" the voice nearly screamed a Henry. It had a strange metallic tone that sounded as if it came from a speaker. Henry wasn't sure if he heard it with his ears or his mind. "You've got five seconds to answer me or you're dead."
"I was told to come this way," Henry said. His mouth suddenly dry as parchment. The man-thing was enormous with corpulent amounts of decaying flesh hanging from his beefsteak jowls. He appeared dull-witted and listless, but quite powerful.
"By who?"
Henry spoke the only name in mind: "Abaddon."
"Abaddon?" the man said incredulously.
"Yes, Abaddon," Henry said, noticing the hesitation-‑or was it fear? "He told me to check these here drains.” Henry motioned back over his shoulder. "And just who the hell are you and what are you doing down here?" Henry thought his best chance was to act as if he belonged there. For some reason the man must have assumed him to be an Apoc. The buzzing in his ears was distracting.
