Heart of the Resonant: Book 1: Pulse (Resonant Series)

by B. C. Handler

  God. Allah. Vishnu. Whoever the fuck. Why?

  The realization finally set in and it lit a fire under my ass. It must’ve been so with Caroline too because she kept up. We cleared the hundred feet of hallway in three seconds flat, and made a sharp right and cleared an additional hundred feet of composite vinyl tiles and we made another left then rushed through a pair of double doors with a small sign indicating we were entering E-building—the dedicated science wing.

  I never ventured to this part of the building too often, but it should, more or less, be a straight shot into F-building, the fine arts wing, and then from there we had to cross into more general classrooms in G-building, which would finally put us near our way out. It seemed like such a short walk, but it quickly became an impossible trek once we heard that monster hunting us.

  I didn’t look back; it would’ve slowed me down. Plus, I don’t think I could handle another look. While we ran through the halls, I noticed empty classrooms with doors ajar, some smashed open, and faint traces of blood smeared around parts of the floor, but no bodies. I’m probably going to be haunted for the rest of my life from the officer’s dead stare; I didn’t need any more faces burned into my eyes.

  We stormed into a common area that branched three ways, and went down the straight most path. I heard the crash of the monster barreling through the double doors we passed earlier. We had a good lead, but it was a slim one at best.

  I could feel my body growing heavier and my shirt was sticking to my back. I was in fair shape for a guy who hadn’t worked out for some time thanks to having a laborious life and boxing for most of it, but Caroline certainly wasn’t the athletic type. Her lithe build wasn’t the result of exercise, just her genetics and lifestyle. I could hear her wheezing behind me and found her pace slowing.

  Please, Caroline, please. Don’t trip like every damsel ever in situations like this.

  My silent plea went unheard and Caroline tripped over her feet and slammed into the floor with a yelp, losing her glasses and almost pulling me down with her. My head jerked behind us; I didn’t see the monster, but I could hear its feet pounding the ground from the twisting hallways behind us. My heart felt like it was going to be crushed by panic’s icy grip, but that panic faded to surprise when one of the doors down the hallway swung open and an older man stepped out, a professor.

  “Come, NOW!” he yelled.

  I scooped Caroline in my arms and sprinted. As I ran past him, I noticed something in one of his hands, a sort of black box with the face of a clock. He turned and chucked the box as far as he could down the hall where it skated across the ground and managed itself around a corner. He ran back in a pulled the door with all his might to fight against the hydraulic door closer. Once it closed, he slammed the deadbolt and wedged a stool under the handle.

  He turned to face me and Caroline and pressed his fingers to his lips. His eyes bugged out of his head when tremors were felt under our feet. The monster was just outside the door, skulking slowly.

  My heartbeat throbbed in my ears. There was a monster no more than fifteen feet away and the only thing between me and it was a two-inch thick, particle-wood door. There was nothing to do but wait.

  The stale silence shattered when something started beeping down the hall.

  The monster let out a grunt and stormed toward the source. There was a loud roar and a crash, and then the beeping stopped. There was another roar, but this one was fainter. The stomps faded, and then all was silent.

  The professor turned to me and gave me a nod. All the exhaustion from my sprint and the strain of Caroline’s weight finally caught up to me; I stumbled back into the wall and slid all the way to the floor on my butt, grasping desperately for air. Caroline hooked her arms around my neck and let out shuddering sobs. If I wasn’t so relieved to have escaped the literal jaws of death, I would’ve relished in her embrace.

  I seemed to zone out while I caught my breath. As things came back into focus, I noticed other students and faculty members huddled in the corners of the room. On further inspection, I realized we weren’t in any regular classroom, we were in what I assumed was one of the engineering labs. Computers, lathes, 3d-printers, and some other unusual devices I could quite place littered the room.

  The professor who saved us from the slaughter wiped away the sweat from his receding hairline, then gave us a solicitous eye. “You okay?” he asked.

  I took in a couple more deep breaths before I responded, “Heart’s still beating.”

  He grinned and held out his hand. “Harold. Harold Dewees,” he said.

  “Don’t you mean Professor Dewees?” I asked as I shook his hand.

  “We could drop the formalities, son.”

  “Al,” I corrected. “Alfonso Engel, but Al is what I go by.”

  “A pleasure,” he said, rising. He ran a hand through his graying hair and plopped into a nearby chair at one of the lab tables. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat and pursed one in his lips. He padded his coat and pockets and frowned. There was a nearby soldering iron he picked up and held it to the end of the cigarette and began puffing until it fully lit. Harold leaned back in his chair and exhaled a thick stream of smoke.

  Clever, I thought. No less from a professor in the science department.

  “Hey,” I called from my spot on the floor.

  “Listen here, Al,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “I’m an old, grouchy bastard that has seen evil incarnate with my very own eyes, and it’s a Monday. If I want to smoke, I’m going to fucking smoke.”

  “No, it’s not that. I just wanted to ask you a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “You saw the monsters, right?”

  A deep crease formed between his bushy brows, then said, “Yeah, I told you I did.”

  “Ah, good,” I said nodding, staring off blankly ahead of me.

  “Why the obvious question?” he asked, throwing up an eyebrow.

  “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t having a stroke or something. I guess I can be happy about that.”

  Chapter 2

  The lab had an eyewash station I drank gallons from. Sprinting like an Olympic athlete with death on your heels really worked up a thirst. I had to pry Caroline 's arms off my neck when I had to get up. She wasn’t faring very well, but she looked better off than some of the other faces. One guy hadn’t moved a muscle since we got in the room, his face just a blank expression with eyes that were looking a thousand miles away. His worked silently, like he was reciting some sort of prayer.

  I found a lab coat hanging from a hook on one of the walls and folded it into a pillow and told Caroline to rest. She was fearful of resting, but I reassured her that we were safe here, even though I didn’t know that for certain.

  It was still pretty early in the day, so along with our run and me rubbing her head, she drifted off into sleep in no time. It was a relief to watch the terror leave her pretty face as she drifted off into slumber. It calmed me. I brushed aside a loose strand of hair from her face and wondered if this ordeal was going to form a strong bond between us. I just hope she will say yes to a date once we get out of this.

  If we get out of this.

  My expression soured and I shook that thought from my head. My survival isn’t guaranteed, I know that, but my chances go down if thoughts like that bog up my mind.

  I joined Harold at the black countertop table where a few others have congregated to. It seemed this table was reserved for people who still had their wits about them. Pushing aside his makeshift ashtray of a pair of upturned lab goggles, I plopped onto a chair. There were three others; two female professors and an older student like me.

  “Thanks again,” I said as I settled. “How’d you know that thing would chase after the clock?” I asked Harold.

  His face hardened. “I didn’t,” he admitted, rubbing at his chin. “But at least now we know that they’ll chase after something loud.”

  “All that matters is that you saved us. You still
made a gamble in helping us. I’m thankful, really.”

  “It’s my job to guide and protect our students; preventing you from getting eaten falls under that.” He gave a warm smile that reminded me of my father. It was wide and filled with heart.

  I gave him a nod. “So now what?”

  “We discussed it earlier,” Harold informed. “For now, the best course of action is to sit tight and wait for help.”

  “I’m not sure I like that plan, Harold,” I said with a sigh.

  “You still want to escape after you narrowly avoided one of those things?” one of the women asked. She held her arms tightly over her chest and had deep lines in her face, signs of someone who scowled a lot. She reminded me of an old boss of mine and could already tell she was going to have an unpleasant edge.

  “I just don’t like the idea of being trapped, is all,” I said.

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Hun, but that’s just what we are: trapped,” the other woman said. She had a crestfallen look on her face, but it didn’t diminish her kindly features. Her hands were folded neatly on the table and she just simply stared at them. She sighed and continued. “Me and what was left of my class had to escape upstairs because of how many were on the first floor.”

  “How many?” I hesitantly asked.

  “Too many,” she said quietly.

  “Mrs. Paterson’s right,” the other student who sat adjacent from me said. “I’m Ryan, by the way.” He offered his hand, which I shook. He paused and took a deep hit from a vapor pen he had out. “I came here late when the announcement was made. One of the officers patrolling noticed me. He was escorting me to the nearest classroom when one of those things rounded a corner. We both thought it was just someone in a costume trying to fuck with us, but when he approached it, the thing roared like the damn t-rex from Jurassic Park.

  “Sergio shot the thing once he realized it was no costume. Three shots into its chest and it just roared and charged. He must’ve emptied his entire magazine by the time it pounced on him.” Ryan’s face paled and he dropped his gaze to the table. “Didn’t stand a chance.” He shook his head and puffed methodically on his pen. He shot me and glance and asked, “Want a hit?”

  “No.” I suspected he had THC oil in that thing. Not my style. But I could really use a drink.

  “Where were you heading from?” Harold asked.

  “Caroline and I were coming from D-building.” I thought about adding the bit about the late officer and the breach of our door, but I decided against it. Their sense of safety is fragile as is. “Our class freaked out and decided to evacuate instead,” I lied.

  “Why didn’t you leave the other ways? From what I know, you had a few options on that side of the building,” Harold asked, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening.

  “I’m not sure where the bulk of our class went. Caroline and I hung back, but one of those things got someone right in front of the nearest exit, and the one chasing us was from the alternative. But, from what you said, it was probably a good thing we didn’t head downstairs.”

  “What was your plan, then?” Ryan asked.

  I shrugged. “Get down to my car and haul ass.”

  “We came up from downstairs,” Mrs. Peterson said, crushing my hope. “I saw four or five as we ran. They might’ve followed… the others.” She clasped her hands tighter and swallowed heavily.

  My eyes drifted over to the other students. I counted eight. A typical classroom had around thirty students. Three instructors and eight students, that’s not a good count. Hopefully those who got separated from their classrooms were able to escape or find help.

  Help? Damn it! Why am I such an idiot!

  I dug my phone from my pocket and began punching in my pass code when the scowl-faced woman spoke up. “You’re wasting your time, kid.”

  “I’m twenty-two,” I said crossly. “And what do you mean?”

  She rolled her eyes and just said, “Fine, check your damn phone.”

  I shook my head and finished punching in the last digit. My lock screen vanished and I stared at the upper-right corner. No service or wifi.

  “The fuck?” I said aloud.

  “Told you,” perpetual scowl lady said.

  “Easy with the attitude, Helen,” Harold cautioned. Helen gave him a nasty stare and then looked elsewhere. “Anyways,” he said shifting his attention back to me, “I’m not sure when, but all phone and internet services shut down.”

  “It’s pretty weird,” Ryan said. “We should have reception up the ass.”

  “I find it strange how everything was working fine this morning.” I had no problem checking my email when I got coffee from the gas station; it was only a block away from campus.

  “Well, it gets stranger, Al,” Harold said, snuffing out his cigarette. He brought his right arm on top of the table and showed me a very worn Victorinox wristwatch. There wasn’t anything wrong with the watch face, but the compass stitched into the nylon band caught my attention. The needle spun wildly in its oil-filled enclosure.

  “You wouldn’t happen to be keeping a lot of magnets in here, would you?” I asked as I watched the needle spin.

  “Afraid not. It’s strange,” he murmured, rubbing his chin. “No cell service, no wifi, and the compass can’t find magnetic north; there’s a lot of interference going on, that’s the only way I can explain it. Very strange.”

  “Any ideas to what’s going on?” I asked openly.

  “I just teach political theory, this is beyond me. Sorry,” Mrs. Peterson admitted regretfully.

  Ryan simply shrugged, and Helen frowned before silently shaking her head.

  “It should be obvious, Al,” Harold said, turning to face me in his chair. “Judgment Day,” he said with a heavy tone and grim face. “We have strayed too far from the path and ignored the Lord's blessing. Now, we’re doomed to eternal suffering.”

  Words didn’t find me right away and I just stared at him with my mouth open.

  “Really?” I managed to say after a moment.

  “No,” he said waving it off, “of course not, that’d be foolish.”

  “Christ Harold! Has anyone ever told you have a sick sense of humor?” Helen snapped.

  “My first wife.”

  A small wave of relief washed over me because for a very, very brief moment, I actually believed him. I let out a quiet chuckle and shook my head. I guess I had a bit of a sick sense of humor, too.

  “Jokes aside, anyone else have any real ideas?” I asked, trying to get back on track.

  “Escaped genetic experiments, zombies, aliens, or the gates of hell may very well have open, who knows? Doesn’t really matter,” Ryan said simply.

  I’m positive it’s THC oil.

  “Doesn’t matter? Doesn’t matter!? God-damned right it matters what we know what those damn things are!” Helen fumed.

  “Helen, please,” Mrs. Peterson said, reaching for her arm, but she ripped it way.

  “If we can figure something about these things we can—”

  “What, Helen?” Harold interrupted sharply. “We band our minds together to figure out what those things are and what? Fight it? I would’ve considered it too if it were ten years ago, but not now. I may be old and withering, but I’m not going to throw my life away doing something stupid like fighting a… Oh, whatever the hell those things are!”

  Helen may look composed, but I could tell she was probably the most scared out of our circle. We all were, but she was teetering on the edge, the smallest nudge in the wrong direction would send her over into despair.

  “Ryan and Harold are right, Helen,” I said softly to mollify her fear. “I’m sure it’d be insightful to know, but we’d just be giving ourselves unnecessary stress trying to make sense of it. We’re safe for now and that’s all that matters.”

  Helen let out a shaky breath and stared blankly at the table. Her eyes darted back and forth while the gears in her brain turned. Her shoulders dropped as she let out another slow, stea
dy breath. “I just… I… can’t just sit here. It feels like we should do something, anything.”

  Harold offered Helen a cigarette. After a second's hesitation, she took it and Harold lit her end with the soldering iron.

  “We’re doing something by sitting tight,” Harold said. “We’re not lost at sea or stranded in the desert. Law enforcement was notified when they got the code red. They’ll do what needs to be done. No sense in having a last stand against a bunch of demons.” Harold made a face. “I feel like a fool saying that out loud.”

  “I doubt we’re in one of those situations where the big bad monster’s weakness is water or the power of friendship,” I said. Everyone let out a small chuckle, even Helen cracked a small smile.

  “And I’m not about to go out there and get on my knees and pray to see if those things are weak against the word of God, either. The best option right now is to wait. If things really are as bad as they are, then we’re going to be getting a lot of attention real soon.”

  “They seem to take bullets pretty well,” Ryan replied glumly.

  “Those standard issue glocks shoot nine-millimeter rounds, son,” Harold said. “Not a very big bullet. I don’t imagine those boogiemen would fare so well against a slug or high-velocity rounds. You said the thing howled when it got shot? That means it sure as hell isn't bulletproof. Hell, that thing might’ve crawled somewhere to bleed out for all we know, right?”

  Ryan nodded, content with Harold’s reasoning. Helen seemed to take comfort in Harold’s words, as well. I didn’t think too much about it either when Ryan mentioned the guard’s fruitless efforts, but Harold had a point. If a pissed off lion was charging you in the savanna and you nailed it a few times with a glock, don’t be surprised when it eats half your face. That’s why elephant guns are a thing. You want to kill something big, then you need something big to kill it.

  If the portal to hell really has opened and demons are reaping our sinful souls, then they’re going to have to feel the wrath of the weapons made by sinners. How well would Lucifer himself stand up to a tank or a battalion armed with machine guns?