The Dark Rift: Retaliation

by RM Brewer

  * * *

  "No, I think it goes in the other way," Claire said. "Here, like this." She grabbed the heavy shell out of Fester's hands and flipped it around, showing him what she meant.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'd better be. If we put it in backward, we'll blow ourselves up."

  "Maybe we should look at the directions one more time," Fester said.

  "Maybe . . . yeah, let's."

  Fester unbuckled his seatbelt. He reached over and grabbed the manual.

  Claire peered out the viewing window, watching the virals begin to wander in their direction. "Uh, Fester, I think we should hurry. Those virals . . . well, they're getting pretty close."

  "Yeah, okay," Fester murmured, turning the page. "I thought so." He sat back down in the chair and buckled in.

  "Well?"

  "We had it backward."

  "Shit."

  "Yeah. This way is better," Fester said, holding the shell up to demonstrate. He loaded the tube and shut the cover.

  "What should I shoot first?"

  Fester leaned over and looked out the viewing window. "How about that building over there where all the virals are trying to break in?"

  Claire looked over at what appeared to be an office building being overrun by the horde. "Sounds good to me," she said, looking through the periscope, then abruptly pulling away. "Oh, yeah, earmuffs."

  "Good idea," Fester said.

  Claire slid her earmuffs down, watching Fester do the same. He leaned away from the firing tube. "Ready here," he yelled.

  Claire could barely hear him. Nice ear protection, she thought, focusing on her target. After flipping off the safety, she took aim at the building. "Here we go," she yelled.

  Claire was thrown back violently in her chair as the missile launched from the tank. She tried to get her bearings to see what happened and sat up straight just in time to see the building explode into a million pieces.

  "Direct hit," Fester screamed, reaching out to grab her arm. "You nailed them."

  "Yes," Claire screamed back at him. "Although, I think I need to sit back a little next time,” she said, rubbing her shoulder. “That one almost broke my neck."

  "I'll reload," Fester said.

  Claire stepped on the gas, easing the breaks off. "I want to get a little closer so we can see what's going on," she yelled.

  "What?" Fester yelled over the roar of the tank.

  Claire glanced over at Fester and burst out laughing. Why hadn't she thought of this before? She could see the radio controls mounted to the top of Fester's helmet. She reached up and turned hers on, motioning for him to do the same.

  "Do you read me, Mr. Martin?"

  Fester smiled. "Well, that's a lot easier. Let's go blow things up."

  "You bet. Let's."

  Claire brought the tank speed up a bit, drove to an area where she would have a better vantage point, and stopped, ready to take aim again. She was about to suggest a target when a voice called out over the radio.

  "Unknown tank operator, this is Nellis Air Force Base control. Identify yourself and intention or we will take action."

  The message repeated three times, without pause.

  "Do they think we're stupid or deaf?" Claire grabbed the radio control. "Nellis, this is Claire Hathaway and Godzilla. Over."

  Claire peered into the periscope, scanning back and forth.

  "Unknown tank operator, repeat," crackled through the radio.

  "What're you doing?" Fester asked.

  "Looking for them . . . so I can let them know my intentions." Claire spotted a viewing platform on the upper deck of the tallest building in the installation, then put the radio mike to her mouth again. "I said, Hathaway and Godzilla. Our intentions will be clear in one second." As she finished the sentence, Claire braced herself and pulled the trigger. The kickback of the gun slammed her against the seat.

  "What are you do --" The radio abruptly went to static.

  "Whoa," Fester said, watching the figure in the window disappear as the tower disintegrated into pieces. Something inside exploded, shooting brick and metal skyward. The tower came down, hitting an adjacent building, which collapsed in a fiery ball of dust and flame.

  "Give me another, won't you, Fester? I think I'm getting better at this."

  "Definitely," he said, loading another shell. "What's next?"

  "Hmm," Claire said, mulling over which target she should choose. "I think planes next. After all, they did threaten taking action against us . . . and they are the Air Force, after all."

  "That's probably good reasoning," Fester said.

  "I’m glad you agree. Let's drive over to the hangar, shall we?" As they rode across the sandy hills of the base, Claire fired the machine gun indiscriminately at virals that came into view.

  "I hope Chuck and Jodie are okay," Fester said. "I mean, as okay as they can be right now."

  "Me, too," Claire said. "I know what he means to you. She means that to me."

  Fester grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

  “I know you’re thinking about your parents . . . that has to be so difficult.”

  Fester nodded, his eyes downcast.

  Claire took her hand away from Fester’s and he withdrew to his seat. She turned back toward the viewing window and moved the tank ahead, looking for a target. As they bounced across the tarmac, Claire wondered what the day had yet to bring. Somehow, they would have to escape what was left of the military and then, the virals. Just beyond the other side of the installation, Chuck’s horde lay in wait, buried in the sand where they would stay until he summoned them. If something happened to Chuck, they would continue to do what virals did best and kill everything in sight. Claire hoped they would get some sort of signal from Chuck and Jodie, and soon. In the meantime, she and Fester had work to do. A hangar filled with helicopters lay just ahead. Everywhere she looked, soldiers and Gypsum guards scrambled, preparing them for takeoff.

  “Fester, are you ready with the next one?”

  “Sure am. Ready.”

  The tank turned abruptly as Claire pulled one of the brake levers and leveled the gun at the hangar. “This one’s for your mom.”

  * * *

  Chuck ran down the hallway, frantically searching for the people he’d heard earlier. The ship was an echo chamber, sounds bouncing off the walls, being carried through the vents, confusing and confounding him. No matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t find anyone, no one at all. Where was everyone? He almost cried out to try to draw them to him but waited. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he stumbled upon a lighted area. He could hear the excited voices of the ship’s crew, but couldn’t read the thoughts of anyone else. Maybe no one else was on the ship.

  “Hang in there, Jodie,” Chuck whispered. “Just a little longer.”

  “We have to leave it behind,” a man’s voice yelled out. “We can’t wait any longer. Prepare for departure.”

  “But, we can’t,” a woman answered. “What about the patients?”

  “The patients are gone, Hana,” the man said. “There’s nothing we can do, other than explain what happened.”

  Chuck gripped the door handle, not quite believing what he was hearing. It was Hana, the one person who could’ve helped them, but who had betrayed them instead. Hana, someone he thought he’d killed when he’d blown up Gypsum’s installation at Area 51. How could it be that she was still alive? Now wasn’t the time to question, though. It was the time to count his blessings. The person who knew how to save Jodie was just on the other side of the door. He’d have to find some way to force her to help him.

  Not knowing what kind of weapons they had, he knew he had to surprise them, catch them off guard. Whatever he did, he had to do it fast. Jodie wouldn’t be able to fight off the virus much longer. If she did turn, would she become a super-soldier like him? Chuck knew it wasn’t that simple, that the virus mutated, morphing into an ever-changing organism that could profoundly alter its host. He was more afraid that the virus
would do what it was best at and kill Jodie outright.

  He wished he’d saved some of the morphine he’d injected into Mei. The drug would have slowed down the progression of the virus in Jodie, at least until he could get Hana to administer the antidote.

  Chuck leaned around the corner, barely able to see through the window into the room where Hana was talking. He couldn’t waste any more time. Hana and the man she was with had their backs to him. Now seemed like the right moment to move.

  Chuck reached around and opened the door slightly, sliding inside the room as quietly as he could, but not quietly enough. Hana turned just as he rushed for her and hit her with a force harder than he intended, throwing her against the wall. The man she was with backed away, then made a move toward the door. He grabbed at the air as he tripped on a table leg and slammed face-first to the floor, where he remained immobile. Chuck stepped closer to him, leaned down, grabbed his shoulder, and shook him, but the man was unconscious. He flipped him over, seeing that his nose was flattened against his face.

  “Ouch. That’s gonna leave a mark,” Chuck said, turnning the man back over. Behind him, Hana groaned. Chuck turned to see her sitting up, rubbing the back of her neck. She cowered as he approached.

  “I need your help,” Chuck said. “Where is the antidote?”

  Hana looked up at him, confusion written on her face.

  Chuck reached down and grabbed her arm. “Where is it? The one you gave Jodie before?”

  “Chuck? Is that really you? I thought you were dead.”

  Chuck bent down to be closer to Hana. “Yes, it’s me. I thought you were dead, too. Imagine my disappointment.”

  “But, you blew us up. How could you still --”

  Chuck grabbed Hana’s arm, gripping tightly. “I said I need the medication. Now.”

  Hana started to struggle, trying to pull away. “You’re hurting me.”

  Chuck released his grip. This approach wasn’t getting him anywhere. “Okay, I’m sorry.” He held out his hand. “Let me help you up.”

  Hana refused his hand and stood up by herself.

  “Now, where do you keep the antidote?”

  Hana looked him in the eye, seemingly incredulous. “What antidote?”

  Chuck was starting to lose his temper. “Whatever you gave Jodie before to cure her. That antidote.”

  Hana shook her head. “We don’t have extra. There’s just enough for the genetics team and that’s it.”

  Chuck wanted to take her head off. After everything that happened, why would he want to save the genetics team? And, why weren’t they dead, too? “The genetics team? And here I was, happy as could be, thinking I’d disposed of them, too. How could they possibly still be alive?”

  Hana glared at him. “The ship was built to withstand anything. Most of us were safely on it, but you still killed dozens of good people with your little stunt.”

  Chuck felt his body growing warmer. He was getting very angry and impatient with Hana. “Good people? Did you say, good people?” Chuck laughed. “There are no good people working for Gypsum.”

  Hana continued to glare at him, stepping backward, inching ever so slowly toward the door.

  Time to put an end to this now, Chuck thought, lunging at her and grabbing her by the neck. “The antidote,” he snarled at Hana. “Now.”

  Hana’s eyes were wild as she clawed at his hands, trying to pull them away. “Okay,” she choked out. “Let me go.”

  Chuck released her neck but kept a grip on her arm.

  “You don’t understand,” Hana choked out, the color of her face beet red.

  “What don’t I understand?” Chuck asked, wondering what kind of trick Hana was going to try next.

  “What I gave Jodie. It wasn’t what you thought. There really is no antidote . . . there never was.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Jimbo ran through the billowing smoke and dust, heading for the first building he could find. He needed somewhere to hide. The remnants of his horde joined him and he felt his rage building upon seeing the landscape littered with thousands of his followers' bodies. The action out on the tarmac pulled him back to the imminent danger facing him as a group of super virals turned his way. They ran, dodging fire coming from a tank maneuvering back and forth across the runway. He watched three of the virals running for cover, the bullets blasting from the tank gun tearing into their bodies, sending them careening to the pavement. Moments later, Jimbo gasped when all three got up and started running again. The only hope for his horde was to hide.

  Jimbo entered the building and ushered his group to follow. He closed and locked the door behind them. He continued to push what was left of his horde ahead, urging them to move. He counted, finding only nine followers left. Nine, out of thousands. They were almost wiped out. Jimbo wondered just what he’d gotten himself into. He was starting to realize they'd been tricked into becoming a mobile buffet for the super virals. He pushed and shoved his horde through the building, exiting out a catwalk to an adjoining structure. Jimbo moved his flock toward a stairwell, where they stumbled and staggered down, one level at a time.

  Behind him, he could hear the super virals creeping and slithering down the stairs, their talons clanging and getting caught in the metal mesh forming the steps. They screeched as they moved, the horrible sound echoing and bouncing against the concrete and metal.

  Jimbo shuddered and moved on, coming to the end of the stairs, bunched up with the rest of his group against a door. He shoved his way through the crowd and pulled the door open. The area he found himself in was a barracks, with bunks stacked up against the walls on either side of a central aisle. It smelled like old socks and sweat. His horde staggered into the room, exploring. Ahead of him at another open door, one of his flock growled and spat loudly. Jimbo came upon him, about to slap the viral in the back of the head to impress upon him the need for silence, but he stopped himself, preoccupied with the sight before him. As far as his eyes could see, the stairwell led down, its steps dimly illuminated, bathed in a green glow.

  Suddenly, an explosion rocked the building and the super virals above screeched out in agony. Jimbo called his flock to him, pushing them into the stairwell ahead as chunks of rafters and concrete smashed onto the floor behind them. He slammed the door shut and ordered them down, the pathway behind them now sealed for good. He didn’t know where the stairwell led, but it was certain to be safer than where they were. If they were lucky, they’d find a bunker where they could wait out the battle and dig themselves out later. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the carnage above.

  For the first few floors of their descent, Jimbo could still hear the impact of the explosions and the horrifying battle cries of the virals, but the sound faded with each and every step. His eyes had adjusted to the green hue of the lighting and Jimbo told the horde to pick up the pace.

  They were running now, making great progress, until the viral in the lead slammed into a wall. Jimbo pushed through the pack, finding what looked like a stair landing, but it was a dead end. Why would the stairs lead nowhere? He spun in all directions, looking for a door, but finding nothing.

  Something odd caught his attention. A red light reflected off the metal stair frame. It blinked on and off in a steady rhythmic pattern. Jimbo turned, shoving his followers to the side, trying to find where the reflected light was coming from. He came upon a recessed panel in the wall. On it, he saw one button and a key card slot. He pushed the button. Nothing happened. He felt along the wall, looking for a door of some kind, sliding his clawed hand sideways across the concrete, his nails grating grooves into its surface.

  Jimbo moved up and down, covering several feet at a time, stopping only to shush his group as they growled and spat, their impatience overflowing into the small space. Finally, his nails caught. He slid them up and down, scraping the groove wider and wider, following the outline of the door all the way around its perimeter. Then, he backed up and instructed his horde to get to work.

  Co
ncrete chips and dust flew across the area as the horde attacked the doorframe, digging into the wall, scraping and scratching their way. When they had burrowed a foot deep, Jimbo could finally make out the metal frame embedded in the wall. Clearly, this was a part of the installation with very restricted access.

  The horde pulled away chunks of the wall, tearing the reinforcement bars out as they went. Finally, one of the horde punched a clawed hand all the way through to the other side. He screeched in ecstasy and the others responded with a group battle cry, tearing and shredding the metal doorframe. When it started to wobble, Jimbo called them off, backed up against the opposite wall and pushed forward. His body slammed into the obliterated door, which came down in a pile of rubble, the metal frame clattering to the floor.

  Jimbo stood and waited for the dust to clear. He smiled as a long corridor appeared, a glass partition with an unfamiliar logo greeting him. The word Gypsum was written on the glass underneath a drawing of the earth. Finally, I’ve found your nest, Jimbo thought. “Let’s go,” he commanded in his mind as he screeched out loud. Then, he added some instructions for his horde. Kill everyone in sight.

  * * *

  “We’re down to three of these,” Fester said, holding up the shell.

  Claire nodded. “We’ll have to choose our targets wisely, then.” As she looked out of the viewing panel, she wondered if there was anything left to shoot at. She’d leveled most of the structures on the base and watched as the humans fleeing the carnage were overtaken by virals. Certainly, the Gypsum guards and the military were not going to be much of an issue by the time the virals finished ripping and shredding them to pieces. But, what about reinforcements? Where was the rescue team that should’ve come to Nellis’ aid? Where was the helicopter that should’ve blown her tank to pieces?

  “What’s wrong?” Fester asked.

  Claire realized her fears must be written all over her face. “See if you can hear anyone talking on that radio, won’t you, Fester? I’m just worried they’ll be coming for us. You know, they should’ve been here already.”