Fade to Grey (Book 2): Darkness Ascending

by Brian Stewart

  His finger tapped the key, and just like before, the yellow barrier pixilated away. I caught myself holding my breath, and then the screen changed. Instead of a return to yellow, it now displayed a black background with a single large, emerald shaped teardrop in the center.

  “We’re in,” Oakley said.

  Chapter 100

  *click*

  I’ll bet you didn’t expect to hear another recording from me, did you? To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I’d make any more. I think the last time was—no wait, it was . . . hmmm. I can’t remember. I know I recorded a few things that night in the vet’s office, but I can’t remember if I recorded something else after that. I guess it doesn’t really matter. I’m at the cabin. Max is here with me, as well as Michelle. She just headed for what she called a ‘very, very long, and much deserved’ bath. It’s a little after 9:00 PM, and I’ve got a new round of scratches—and probably bruises—from my latest wrestling match with my brute of a puppy. It’s all good though, and I’m pretty sure that both of us needed the bonding time. Speaking of Max, he’s outside on the front porch. Probably crashed pretty hard after the wrestling and a huge bowl of dry dog food. I’ve got the door shut and barred, but he knows to scratch if he wants in. You’re probably not going to believe this, but even after all the exertion of the past few days, I actually feel like going jogging. I figure that I’ll take the Max on the ridge trail first thing in the morning, and then, based on what we hear from the marina, we’ll probably head over there. I’m sure that Max will want to stay here though. Let me see . . . oh yeah, the data drive. I only stayed to see if they were able to get in. Apparently the code worked. The first thing that came up was a giant, emerald green gem in the shape of a teardrop. That blinked on the screen for almost a solid minute before a little graphic started playing around the borders. It was a series of translucent, tumbling rods, each containing a DNA helix. They circled the display several times before spiraling inward and assembling themselves into the silhouette of a bird. The entire image then solidified with a pulse of violet light. Underneath the outline of the bird, a row of typewriter font lettering appeared.

  PROJECT FALCON

  CLASSIFIED ABOVE TOP SECRET.

  PRESIDENTIAL AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED TO VIEW.

  I’ll admit I was intrigued, but the next page was an abstract of the project that was so filled with techno-mumbo-jumbo that my head was spinning before I finished the first paragraph, so I wished them well and headed out the door.

  We got to the cabin about an hour ago, and I kind of feel guilty for this, but I made a beeline to the cabinet where I happen to know that an entire Tupperware container filled with hot chocolate packets resided. I took out four packets just for me. While I’m making a confession, I might as well tell you that I’m thawing a moose steak for Michelle and I to split at breakfast. I also pulled out another venison roast that had been in the deep freeze for almost three years. When I opened it, I could see a layer of freezer burn, but once I trim that off it should make several good meals for Max. Michelle has her smart phone charging on the battery bank, but I can’t seem to locate mine. I also can’t recall the last time I saw it. It probably doesn’t matter anyhow since it was just a basic flip phone with no other bells and whistles, almost like the one that I found on the dead girl at the vet office. Bad memory there—gonna trade it in on something better. Something like a short trip down the hallway to the bathroom. Maybe somebody wants their back scrubbed. Bye.

  *click*

  It’s a little after midnight. I’m down in the basement adding a few pieces of wood to the fire. I’m not sure if I’ll have the energy for a jog in the morning. Michelle did want her back scrubbed. And her sides. And her front . . .

  Chapter 101

  The rusted metal of the barge’s hull was unaffected by the slapping waves that occasionally worked themselves into a drumming harmonic as they beat against the unyielding surface. Sporadically, the drumbeat was returned from somewhere below deck with the hollow pounding of a fist. On top of the deck, several crouching figures huddled together around the remains of the captain. One of them—an amber-eyed man that by all normal accounts would have been considered borderline geriatric, but now moved with the grace and athleticism of a teenager—scuttled over to the wheelhouse. The heavy wooden door was splintered, and despite the recent downpour, still ran with streaks of red and brown. Keen vision was not needed to see the fragments of bone still embedded in the splinters. The feral creature stepped inside and stared at the objects within. One of the weak lay on the floor. It had the same skin, but it didn’t survive the transformation. It wouldn’t be eaten, either. Yellow eyes looked with a distant, fleeting memory at the objects surrounding it. Several blinking lights were pulsing, but they meant nothing to the creature. The low rumble of the fuel starving diesel engines idling in neutral carried their faint vibrations through the decking, and the creature shifted its stance and stared through the weather shield of the wheelhouse. The crimson smudges where the captain’s head had been softened still marred the glass, but beyond the haze something else began to appear in the gathering dusk. Moving with an agility that it had never possessed before, even in the long ago prime of its life, the creature stalked out of the wheelhouse and towards the front of the barge. Citrine orbs focused across the grey chop to the distant shoreline. Somewhere ahead was the missing piece. The emptiness in his gut that called out, but couldn’t be sated with mere flesh. The queen. He clenched his teeth; momentarily pausing again in surprise as his tongue encountered the new growth of multiple objects that had been removed decades ago. The coppery taste of blood still seeped through their crevices and registered on his tongue. There were others like him on board. He could feel them below. Many of the mindless were here as well. Waiting. They would all wait until he called them. Until it was time to feed. Until it was time to find the master and become complete.

  Underneath the creature’s feet, the rusty shell of the logging barge drifted with the wind and current. Its course had taken it gradually southeast until a change in the weather pattern pushed it back towards the center of the deep lake. For almost two days it had been caught in the still waters of a slowly circling eddy. Last night’s storm had finally broken it free from its spiraling prison and gently guided it into the natural current that led almost due south. As dusk turned to darkness, the creature called to the others. One by one they responded and joined him at the metal railing. Standing this close together, he became keenly aware of each one. Their injuries were his. Their hunger, or lack of it became his own. Raising an arm that seven days ago had been punctured with IV lines from his ambulance journey to the hospital, the old/young creature pointed towards the jagged silhouette of the distant, sloping shoreline. A hissing gurgle escaped its throat, but each of the almost forty, yellow-eyed warriors became instantly aware of his message. There was food there, and after the food they would merge with the master.

  The last fading reflection of daylight finally succumbed to the overcast clouds of what promised to be a dark night. Drifting slowly, the hulking behemoth that had spent decades laboring under heavy loads of hardwood, coal—and as it turned out, smuggled human souls—began to shudder as the scant remaining drops of its precious diesel fuel bled into the engine. In the darkened wheelhouse, a pair of amber caution lights flickered to life. The warning buzzer that would have accompanied their status had long ago stopped working, but silent or not, the message was the same. Death was coming.

  Chapter 102

  “Enjoy your run?” Michelle asked as she dropped the almost one inch thick slab of meat into a bath of marinade that she had concocted. I looked on the counter and identified at least seven different jars of ingredients, one of which was the bottle of peach schnapps that we had taken with us several nights ago. It had been returned unopened, but a single glance now confirmed that the seal had been broken.

  “Interesting choice of marinade components,” I said.

  “Who said anything about using
it on the moose? I've been told that the more alcohol you drink, the better my cooking tastes.”

  I chuckled and shook my head. Michelle was an excellent cook, and I could personally attest to that fact. Behind me, Max's panting face poked through the open door.

  “Why is he so winded?” Michelle asked curiously. “I'm sure you didn't run him that much.”

  “No, but he's been cooped up for so long that he's literally been running circles around me the entire time . . . and get this—when we were upon the ridge top, we saw another wolf.”

  “Was it alone?”

  “I don't know, but we only saw one. It crossed the logging road about 300 yards ahead of us. You should've seen Max's tail move when we got up there and he caught the scent.”

  “Do you blame him?” Michelle smirked in my direction. “Of the three of us, he's the only one that didn't get lucky last night.”

  I took a step backwards and dropped to the ground with my arm around Max. Both of us looked up at Michelle. Her waist length reddish blond hair was cascading over the loose folds of a tee shirt that she was wearing. One of my tee shirts. She wore nothing else but a smile.

  “What do you think boy?” I asked Max. “Wouldn't it be great if we could find you a girlfriend that’s as beautiful as Michelle? Maybe she'll even have red hair.”

  Michelle flipped the steak over in the marinade, replying as she did. “Yes Max, and while your redheaded girl wolf did all the work to feed you and clean up after you, you could just sit there on the floor and be lazy like Eric.”

  I creaked to my feet with a laugh, and then walked up behind Michelle. My arms draped around her, and I squeezed against her sides as I planted a series of kisses and nibbles on the back of her neck.

  “I'm sorry . . . I'll get busy and set the table.”

  “It's already done.”

  “Then I'll make the bed.”

  “That’s done too.”

  “Well then, how may I be of service, ma’am?”

  “Why don’t you trim the freezer burn off the venison roast, and then slice up the good stuff so it will cook faster.”

  I replied with another kiss, this time accompanied by a wink and a halfhearted "yes ma'am" before getting busy.

  A little bit after 8:15 AM, we were sitting on the front porch of the cabin on a bench that my uncle had built out of steam bent willow limbs. Both of our stomachs were full, and we were quietly watching a flock of about seventy Canada geese that had landed on Uncle Andy’s lake. I was about to suggest a little bit of fishing when the radio broke the stillness of the morning.

  “This is marina calling cabin, do you copy?” It was Amy’s voice.

  Michelle was closer, and she picked up the radio and responded. “Go ahead marina.”

  “Hey Michelle, the crew here want to try and schedule a lunchtime meeting to go over what they found on the drive. Can you and Eric be here?”

  “Yeah. Do you mind asking Walter, Andy, and Bernice if we need to bring anything from the cabin.”

  “OK, hold on a minute.”

  Michelle pointed toward the geese and echoed my thought. “Nice day to drown a few worms.”

  Before I could reply, Amy’s voice returned. “OK, you had to ask. Do you have a paper and pencil handy?”

  By the time we were done filling the list it was almost lunchtime, and we hopped in my truck and headed down the dirt road. Max had taken over our place on the willow bench.

  Lunch was served by Bernice and Lynn. It was bow tie pasta with a light coating of vinegar and olive oil. Canned peppers and tomatoes were drizzle on top, and parmesan cheese was available to sprinkle for those who wanted. Everybody also got a multivitamin. I located the plastic cup that I had autographed, and filled it with water from the cooler before sitting down in the living room. Someone, probably several ‘someones’ actually, had decided before we got there that this was going to be an adults only meeting, so Leah had volunteered to take the children downstairs to play games. Glenda had whipped up a batch of very tasty chocolate chip cookies as an enticement for the children, and after that they had no problem heading to the basement. As I sat down next to Michelle, a look of pure, unadulterated bliss was spread across her face. At first I assumed it was from her memories of last night, but then I caught a whiff of the cowboy coffee brewed by Bucky that filled her cup. I was about to comment on the situation when Sam cleared his throat and got the crowd’s attention. “OK folks, let’s pipe down a bit and focus this way.”

  There was palpable tension in the air as Uncle Andy stood with crutches next to Sam. It reminded me of the morning before report cards were issued in grade school. Not that I had anything to worry about, though. Well, not much.

  “Ladies . . . gentlemen . . . before I cede the floor to Lieutenant Oakley, I want to make a few announcements. The first thing, as most of you know anyhow, is that we’re going to be continually moving people, assignments, shifts, and job duties until we come up with a workable daily schedule. Sam and Amy are your contact points for the civilians here, and Sergeant Keene is the contact point for military personnel until further notice. Any suggestions or difficulties you have should be routed through them.” He cleared his throat and tore open a foil wrapped candy before continuing. “Sorry, I’m a little dry.” I watched as he popped the candy in his mouth and swirled it around. “The second announcement applies to everybody—military or civilian. Leonard,” he pointed toward the chubby man in the far corner, “is your point of contact for this. “We need you to come up with a written list of items. For simplicity, split the list into three parts. Part one are items that you really, really think that you need. Part two are items that in your opinion would benefit either you personally, or us as a group. Part three are items that you’d like to have access to for either sanity, sustenance, or entertainment, but that you can live without for extended periods if you had to. Anything that you list in part one, please be able to explain the urgency. The reason we’re doing this is because at some point in the future were going to need to go on a resupply mission, most likely to Richland. My third announcement is that this very morning, a good sized deer wandered into Walter’s backyard, and by some miracle as yet unexplainable by modern science, Walter managed to down the critter. I’m of the belief that the sight of Walter in his threadbare, trapdoor pajamas was what done the creature in, but Mr. Sheldon swears that he actually pulled a trigger. In any event, I’ve been told to announce that the wonderful smell of homemade bread should be hitting your noses around 3:00 PM, and that sometime around supper, you should each expect a monster sized venison burger.”

  Almost two minutes of applause, catcalls, and whistles sounded throughout the upstairs living room. Uncle Andy finally waved them back under control for his final announcement.

  “Lastly, the reason we sent the children downstairs is that some of what you’re about to see, and most of what you’re about to hear can be pretty graphic.”

  Uncle Andy stepped aside and motioned towards Oakley. The lieutenant moved up to the table where Samantha’s laptop had been positioned. He used the small remote to activate the projector.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, normally I wouldn’t be standing in front of a video screen pointing to pictures, but thanks to the creative use of a camera by Emily, we’ve been able to capture roughly seventy percent of the accessible data on the drive. Now, I know that you’re going to have a lot of questions, but if you’re patient I’ll probably answer most of them in the course of my explanation, OK?”

  Several people nodded their head silently. I was one of them.

  “Great, now it’s time for some of my disclaimers,” Oakley said. “I’m not going to pull any punches or try to sugarcoat things. All I’m really doing is making the information more ‘user friendly’ for the audience—you. And I’m not here to recommend a course of action, although I imagine that at some point in the future, after further study of the information available, I may be able to contribute to that conversation. So with that said,
let me take a step backwards and explain something that, by the looks in some of your eyes when I mentioned it, you’ve already keyed in on. We’ve been able to duplicate via photography about seventy percent of the accessible data on the micro drive. What that means is that we ran into an issue where a large part of the data inside the drive was further encrypted. I’ve never encountered that before in any of the presentations I’ve done, and all I can tell you is that the file name that we can’t access is called Crystal Wind. That still leaves us with a substantial chunk of information that we didn’t have before, and with all of that out of the way, ladies and gentlemen,” Oakley thumbed the remote and brought the projector screen to life, “I give you FALCON.”

  The image on the screen was a remarkably clear microscopic view—I was guessing electron microscope—of a vaguely bird-shaped squiggly blob.

  “This little guy,” Oakley said, “is the culprit in our current dilemma.”

  My natural impulse to ask questions was already lining up several thousand, but I bit my tongue and kept my hand around my drink. My other hand was around Michelle.