End of Gray Skies: An Apocalyptic Thriller

by Brian Spangler

  29

  THE GIRL WITH THE red hair brushed past him, gripping his attention. She was different. And not just aware like the boy traveling with her, but very different. An odd and excited giddiness rose inside him as if he were ten again and it was the morning of his birthday.

  Phil followed the young couple, remembering the red hair of his daughter Emily. He jabbed his leg with the metal shard, knowing that he had to make sure that what he was seeing was real. A fresh trickle of blood ran down his pant leg, answering his questions.

  “How did you know to help us,” the young man named Declan asked. “I mean, you’re not like them so how could you know?”

  “I can read the lights,” he told them and motioned to the wall. “We put an override in the computer, securing the room. You’re safe in here.” As Phil spoke, he was drawn to the young woman and to her red hair. But she followed his movements, caution fixed in her expression. He sensed her fear and raised his palms. When he reached her, the young man stepped between them, his posture guarding.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I just want to touch is all,” he told her, trying to smile, but felt awkward. “My daughter, Emily, her hair… her hair was the same.”

  “What do you mean the same?” the young woman asked. Phil closed his eyes and listened to her voice. It was Emily, but he knew the impossibility of her standing in front of him. Yet, through some miracle, time had brought his daughter back to him. “Sir? What did you mean?”

  “You even sound like her,” he answered. He tapped his head, smacking it then, and saw Isla and the others flinched. Stop that, he warned himself. “But I can’t see my daughter’s face. Not anymore. Not in a very long time. But her hair, it was red like yours. May I?”

  His heart lifted when she stepped around the young man. Her slender fingers gripped her guardian’s shoulder and told him that it would be okay. She moved closer and offered her hand to him.

  “My name is Sammi,” she told him. The sweet sound of his daughter’s voice jabbed his heart. He winced, but it was with pride and joy as a tear crept into his eye. He felt a sudden wave of emotion and tried biting down on his lip to hold it in. “This is my chosen, Declan. We’re trying to go home. Go home to our Commune. Escape this place. Can you… will you help us?”

  Phil nodded, taking the young woman’s hand in his. Her fair skin matched his. In this world—a millennia away from his own—the fair skinned had been lost. Everyone had browned, including their eyes and hair and complexion. Sammi leaned forward, presenting her hair to him. He touched it just once, not wanting to chance distancing them.

  A thump. Everyone turned to the door, startled by the sound.

  “Zombies are persistent aren’t they,” Phil said with a snort. As if on cue, the young couple receded deeper into the lab, moving away from the front. “They certainly want you.”

  “Zom— what?” Declan asked, sounding both confused and concerned.

  “Just an old name from my time, which is a long time ago,” Phil answered and motioned to the lights. “When they follow those—not aware that is—I call them zombies—”

  “What does the machine want with them,” Isla asked, interrupting.

  “We’re going to have a baby,” Sammi answered. “That must be it. Right?”

  Phil shut his eyes, thinking. The technology. The DNA.

  A crash at the door jarred their attention. The quiet of their discussion interrupted by the bodies outside. Phil stole a quick glance at the lights, intrigued by the machine’s tenacity.

  “It has to be your baby,” Phil exclaimed. “I think I might understand what’s happening.”

  Another crash came then. Phil studied the door, searching for any signs of the metal buckling.

  “Why are they after us?” Sammi screamed. “Is it my baby?”

  “We’re close aren’t we?” Isla asked. “Closer than you thought.”

  Phil nodded. “We’re running out of time. The mining is almost complete, and they want to begin the next phase.”

  “What phase?” Sammi asked. “What do you mean?”

  The sound of metal bending and shearing pierced the air. Phil felt the sudden urge to laugh in disbelief. He imagined zombie bodies piling up behind the door, pressing against the metal—bones breaking, flesh ripping, zombies dying in the urgency to break through the door.

  “Please,” Declan yelled. “Please tell us what to do!”

  Phil understood the need. He understood the need to mix the alien technology with their own. First it was just the technology—convincing him and the others—that had been the only way to create the machines. And now, with the mining near complete, it was time for more, but much more than just the simple cloning to provide a workforce. They wanted the young man’s DNA. It was to be the beginning of a new population.

  “It is your baby,” he told them. “You were right to suspect that. The machine wants your baby, and it isn’t going to stop until it has it.”

  “Declan!” Sammi cried.

  “I can get you out of here,” he added. “But you’ll never be safe, not until we destroy this thing.”

  “The vent,” Isla yelled. “This way.” She led them to the ventilation system, ducking beneath a lab table to show them the opening. The cover disappeared in a single move. Isla backed out of the opening, pointing into the black void.

  “I’ll take you,” Phil said. “I know where to go.”

  Sammi was the first to crawl in, swallowed by the blackness. “Declan, come on.” Her voice echoed in the ventilation shaft. Declan crawled in, stopping to turn around.

  “I’m coming back,” he told them. “Once Sammi is out of here, I’m coming back to help you finish this.”

  “Okay then,” Phil answered, admiring the young man’s commitment. His thoughts briefly went to the young man his daughter had found after the clouds fell. Phil struggled to pull a name from his Swiss-cheese brain. But these days there were more holes than substance. It’s the cloning, he thought. Has to be. But he knew better, his mind had become a playground of psychosis.

  The door to the lab crashed into the room, and a flurry of activity erupted behind them. Arms and legs spidered in all directions, flooding the opening and swallowing any light from the corridor. Isla quickly ducked beneath one of the lab tables, covering her head with trembling arms.

  She’ll be safe there, Phil assured himself. Just need to get these two out of here, and then we can get started.

  The urgency rose in his throat, and he couldn’t swallow. His mouth went dry as the swarm toppled tables, shattering glass and stomping on anything in its path. Phil let out an excited laugh, enjoying the suddenness of the machine’s pursuit—a true cat and mouse game that he could never have imagined. He didn’t have to look at the lights to know which of the alarms were being signaled. By now, he could sense it, he could sense the zombie bodies coming for Sammi’s baby and they were willing to tear him apart if he got in their way.

  “You have to hurry!” Isla shouted over the ruckus of the zombie’s advance.

  “When I come back, you’ll know?” Declan asked. “You’ll know to let me inside?”

  “Yes, now let’s move!” Phil answered, hiding the uncertainty of his promise. “You get back here and we’ll finish this.”

  30

  THE MAN IN THE dirty coveralls waved his arms around his head, pointing at the ceiling and the lights and talking faster than anyone Sammi had ever seen before. The sight of him reminded her of the feral cats from the old theater: ragged and scruffy, an untidy wildness in his eyes that warranted the most cautious of steps. In her gut, she thought that Phil truly wanted to help them, but she was afraid of him.

  I let him touch my hair, she thought, shaking her head and wondering what it was she was doing. It seemed the right thing to do and maybe it worked. He’s got to help us.

  But as crazy as Phil seemed, he knew a lot of what the machine was and why the others wanted them.

  The crashing against
the lab’s door made her jump. It made them all jump. She reached for Declan’s hand, taking it in hers. She squeezed and waited for him to answer, but he seemed mesmerized by Phil’s crazy explanations. She gripped his hand harder a second time, urging him.

  “I understand,” he finally told her and gently brushed his hand against her cheek. The act didn’t go unnoticed and stopped Phil’s tirade mid-sentence.

  “You looked like my Emily just then. Exactly like her,” he said, his eyes big and round. “At least I think you did. I’m sure of it. You did. Damn Swiss cheese of a brain…” The man went on, slapping his palm against his forehead.

  “You’ve got to go!” the young woman screamed from under a lab table. “I can see them coming in!”

  What did he call them? Sammi tried to remember. Zom… zomb.

  “The zombies are here for my baby!” she screamed, pulling the crazy man from his thoughts. “Please, we have to go.”

  “Yes, you’re absolutely right,” he told them, pointing into the dark vent. As they crawled inside, the darkness swallowed them whole. Stray light jutted from the sides of the vent, giving her an idea of what lay ahead. She turned back, expecting to find Phil, but he had disappeared from behind her. In the lab, she heard his voice, screaming at what he called zombies. “Goodbye ya fuggers. I’ll see ya on the flip side. Ya’all come back now, ya’ hear?”

  “What is he doing?” Declan asked. “I don’t think he’s right.”

  “I know, but he’s all we have,” Sammi told him.

  “Let’s get this party started,” Phil hollered into the duct work, crawling through with ease.

  “And you know where to go?” Declan asked. His voice sounded empty.

  “I should. I designed this place,” he answered with a snarky chuckle. “Also helps that I’ve spent a lot of time crawling around like a rat in a maze. Memorized for sure.”

  Sammi didn’t understand what the crazy man meant. His words lost her half of the time. When he lifted his chin forward, Declan turned and began to crawl.

  “Good luck,” Isla said from behind them, and then quickly pushed the vent cover back into place. The crashing and thumping from the zombies continued, and Sammi imagined that by now they were in the lab, tearing it apart as they looked for her.

  “Will your friend be okay?” she asked, turning her head and whispering. “Isla, is she safe or will they take her?”

  “Who? The zombie fuggers?” he answered with a question, shaking his head sarcastically. “Nothing to worry about. They don’t even see her in the lab. She’s invisible to them. As long as the instructions are programmed into their zombie brains, the only thing they can see is you and what you’re carrying there.”

  While the news that Isla would be fine comforted her, Sammi’s chest tightened and her mouth felt terribly dry. She tried to swallow and slowed to rub her middle. A soft thump came to her hand, telling her to move on.

  “I will, baby,” she answered and rubbed her middle again. “I will.”

  Minutes felt like hours as Sammi followed Declan, with Phil throwing the directions in a volley of words—some nonsensical, but enough to navigate the maze. Her hands and knees ached from the shuffle along the sheet metal and the occasional pinch from the sharp fasteners.

  The noise in the lab eventually faded, becoming distant and then suddenly ending. They stopped when the silence reached them, and Phil said a few words about what zombies were all about. And as they followed his directions, the crazy man went on, wildly explaining the past centuries and how they had been lied to, deceived by what he called aliens. And while there had to be some truth to what he said, a lot of it sounded like made-up horror stories to fill a child’s head with nightmares just before bedtime. This last thought made her feel sorry for him, made her wonder how much of his memories had been woven into the fantasies spun around by time.

  “You’ll take care of that baby,” Phil stated, interrupting the low drone of his story telling. “It’s a miracle, you know. A true miracle.”

  As if hearing his words, Sammi felt a bump inside her. Her heart swelled.

  “It is a miracle,” she agreed. “All of this is a miracle.”

  Ahead of her, Declan slowed. They were safe, buried somewhere deep inside the hidden passages. They could rest. Declan turned to face them, and in the dim light, Sammi could make out the concern in his expression.

  “What about the year?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “I saw what happened to my mother and sister, what about Sammi and the—” Declan’s lips thinned and turned down, his chin shook, and Sammi’s shared in his angst.

  “Oh Declan,” she began to say. “You can’t think that. I’d never let that happen.”

  “But what if you don’t have a choice,” he said. “Did my mom have a choice? My sister?”

  “Once we get outside, you and your baby will be safe,” Phil said, sounding oddly sensible. A calm had come into his eyes—a window, she thought, to the man he’d once been. “I’ve tried everything imaginable to learn about the cycle and how it works.”

  “What happens?” Sammi asked.

  “When the machine brings us back—the workforce, supporting all of this—you follow the lights. And it isn’t something you choose to do.”

  Sammi nodded, recalling how she listened to them. “It was like breathing. I had to, I had no choice.”

  “Exactly,” Phil snapped with a teacher’s excitement. “That is the programming integrated into your DNA, a part of the cloning process. But I think it is only a shadow of their DNA, just enough to work. But it isn’t perfect. There are gaps, and that is how some of us become aware.”

  “And it only lasts a year, which is what happened to my mother and sister?” Declan added. “And that place, that awful place.” Declan reached over to take her hand. His eyes looked wounded and fear twisted his face. Her heart went to him.

  “Almost,” Phil said. His tone reminded her of Ms. Gilly during one of her lectures. “That place, the soul of the machine. It is where the children of the machine go back home, feeding the soul, if you will.”

  Sammi glanced at Declan, sharing her confusion of Phil’s explanation.

  “And by that, I mean, to feed the machine,” Phil added impatiently. “Before the alien DNA fades to nothingness and we wake to complete awareness, the programming sends us to feed the machine. And if the job we provided is still in need, then the machine brings us back.”

  “Was this my job?” Sammi asked, her voice shaking as she rubbed her middle. “Was this why the machine had us bring Declan in from the outside?”

  Phil looked at them, his excitement becoming a penitent stare, “Yes. Yes it was.”

  “But we’ll change that,” Declan said, his voice rising. “By leaving the machine, leaving the lights. Sammi and the baby, they’ll be safe.”

  “I’ve tested it,” Phil said, nodding his head. Sammi felt the soft sting of anxiety, wondering how it was the cycle could have been tested. “A few times now. I tested it, living for a month or two past my expiration. In fact, to the machine, it was like I was invisible.”

  “How?” Sammi asked, but then immediately wished she hadn’t.

  “Plucked them!” Phil answered, and then made a loud popping sound, pointing to his eyes with an exaggerated motion. “Plucked them right out. It took me over a month of blindly feeling my way around before I could find the soul of the machine and end that little nightmare. And then, of course, the machine brought me back… again.”

  Sammi and Declan said nothing. She felt sorry for the man. Architect or not, he’d experienced a tortured existence; a hell that nobody should have had to endure.

  Without another word, Declan gave Sammi a quick squeeze, kissing her atop her head. Declan reached into his coveralls and pulled out the index card. He gave it a long hard look, pushing his fingers over the numbers. He swiped to dry his cheek and handed the card to Phil.

  “My mother and sister died because of this,” he said. His voice warbled but sounde
d firm. “I brought this here to finish our end of gray skies. But now I understand how much more is going on. Will this help you stop the machines?”

  Phil took the index card and counted out the numbers in a soft murmur. “This one, the third one down. That’s us,” he told them. “It’s this machine. And the other numbers, they represent the other machines.”

  “So they will help?” Sammi asked, feeling hopeful.

  “Oh, yes. Yes, certainly, we can use this. From the computer terminals, we can access the other machine’s computer systems.”

  “I’m coming back to help,” Declan reminded Phil as he pushed ahead of Sammi. “When Sammi is safe, you’ll let me back in?”

  Phil nodded, his eyes sparking as if a fresh stock of ideas had suddenly come to him.

  When they moved on, Sammi listened to the quiet sound of their shuffling. Phil talked to himself, planning his attack from the computer terminals. And on occasion, his chattering drone was eclipsed by instructions to turn left or right. And finally Sammi saw the familiar gray daylight that she’d grown up with.

  Home, she thought and pressed her feet into the black sands. They were outside, and while she was tempted to look back at the machine, she decided against it. After all, there was nothing for her there. She took hold of Declan’s hand and everything suddenly seemed terrifically quiet and peaceful as if the world had stopped.

  31

  THE CAUTIONS AND CONCERNS that weighed on her earlier steps had disappeared. Not just the fear of what lay beyond the fog, but that sense of being hunted had gone completely. For the first time, Janice relaxed in her walk with Richard. But there were other worries that raised questions. She thought of James, and of the index card, and that whatever he knew about the machines had likely led to his jumping to his death. Just what exactly had the executives been doing? And what were their ties to the machines?