We’ll I don’t want to get graphic about it. A lady never talks.
So yeah, that’s why we’re down here when the shit went down the first time. When things went sideways…
All five of us.
Wait. Stop.
It just occurred to me, every one of those horror movies begin with the five teenagers and then one by one they end up dying or getting killed or…
Having to kill one of their own.
Yeah, life can be funny. But mostly it has a really sick sense of humor.
End log.
Begin log. Sarah Knotts. May 20, 2019.
Jimmy and his mom arrived in those early days. This was after the people disappeared, of course. This was just the next thing.
We were too scared to venture out. Too scared about what the broadcasters were saying. Then one by one, they disappeared from our screens. But we had the internet to tell us about the chaos. And it told us more than we wanted to know. It told us about the fallout in Russia, that New York had sunk into the ocean, the fact that one of the missiles diverted to the North Pole… the heat from the bomb caused glaciers to melt. The ocean rose…
We’d sent out emails, to family, to friends, trying to let them know we were somewhere safe. I wanted to go get my dad, but he told me not to bother. Both he and Mom worked downtown, and the city had taken the worst of it. Still, he thought there were a couple of places where they’d be safe enough. Maybe even make it to us if things got any better.
So I stayed put.
But Jimmy and his mother came because of the emails. And it was good. Ian and him had lived across the street from each other since they were five, but I think his mom never liked Ian. And when you start to get that cabin fever after a couple of months. When the fear kicks in and every moment of every day is full of worry.
Well, that’s when those little whispers begin to get the best of you.
End log.
Begin log. Sarah Knotts. May 21, 2019.
It was Jimmy’s mom who let the new guy in. He’d begun pounding on the door and would not stop. She screamed at him to go away, and when he didn’t move she opened the hatch and let the bastard in.
Yeah, it only takes one idiot to ruin it for everyone else.
He wasn’t right in the head. The radiation or the solar winds or whatever it was that week swept across the nation and gotten its hooks into him. He’d turned like most people do when they have nothing left to live for. He’d become a creature even if he wasn’t actually infected with anything. Whatever it was, it was enough.
Somehow, Jimmy stepped in the way, got bit. Infected. The disease transmitted itself to him.
If it is any conciliation, and I’m not one hundred percent sure there is, he did it to save his mom.
Ian put them both down. Because even if Jimmy tried to save his mom, she still got the sickness too.
We burned the bodies in the incinerator, and then hoped that we weren’t infected too.
End log.
Begin log. Sarah Knotts. May 22, 2019.
Someone decided we needed to go out. I’m not naming names, but it was Rick.
Have I mentioned Rick up to this point? Sorry. Rick was the fifth member of our little group. The odd man out. The one who secretly hoped he could use the friend zone as his way in with Kelly or me if we broke up with Daniel or Ian.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved Rick. Just not in that way. He used to spend the night at my house. Heck, he spent more time at my house than he did at his own most days. Not that I blame him. His parents were real pieces of work. His dad was constantly on his case about college and his grades. Never mind he had the highest grades in the school twice over. I remember asking him how far ahead of the second place person he was, and he told me that he could have skipped his last semester of senior year, gotten zeroes in every class and still been our school’s valedictorian.
So, pretty smart.
But it can be a bit lonely in this place, as I am beginning to find out. And now I feel bad for Rick. At least we had someone to cuddle with at night. Someone who we loved was right there with us. That personal connection is a huge thing when you are not sure what tomorrow is going to end up bringing to you.
Cabin fever though, it’s a real thing. I was beginning to wonder if it was the last stage of the Earth trying to kill us.
Rick wanted to go out. To see if he could find any survivors. To see if anything of the old world still remained. Maybe it was the cabin fever. Maybe it was that he needed to know what happened outside our four walls. Mostly I think that he needed to either find someone for himself or die trying.
I begged him to stay put. We all told him that there was nothing left for any of us. That the world out there was the past and we just needed to deal. But he wasn’t listening anymore. He waited until we were asleep and left.
I…
God…
Sorry, I don’t mean to break down on you like this. I’m supposed to be giving an account, but I never realized how much I would miss him. It’s been three years since he walked out the door. I really do hope he found someone else out there. That he is with the love of his life doing all sorts of naughty things that you are supposed to do when the world ends.
That’s what I hope for him.
End log.
Begin log. Sarah Knotts. May 23, 2019.
Kelly and Daniel. I wanted to say a little bit about them, but I’m not entirely sure how to frame it. They were Ian and my friends.
Well our couple friends.
You know the kind that you can do everything together and not get bored. But you never are on your own with one of them. Ian called it playing two-on-two defense. That’s the only way it could work. Otherwise, it becomes one of them bitching about the other, and you’re stuck in the middle.
I mean, how many times can you tell me about some horrible slight Daniel has done to you and me telling you to break up with him and you not doing it has to happen before I stop hanging out with you altogether?
We had reached that point before the world went to shit. And after two years’ worth of it, the whole time Kelly wanted out of the relationship. I mean, you’re stuck with this guy you now hate. You could see it with the two of them after about six months. They no longer cuddled at night. Soon he was sleeping on one side of the bunker and her on the other.
I thought that might be the opening for Rick to make his move out of the friend zone, but it wasn’t. Thought Daniel might have killed him if he had tried, so I didn’t push it.
But when it was just the four of us…it got to be too much.
I wish I knew when it really turned. What was the last step that pushed them over the edge? Was it this idea of their not being anyone else out there for them? Was it Ian and me, still happy, not sharing in their misery?
I wish I knew. I might have been able to stop what had happened.
End log.
Begin log. Sarah Knotts. May 28, 2019.
I awoke to Kelly standing over Daniel with the knife in her hand. He was gurgling on his own blood, and she had the spray all over the front of her shirt. Her eyes were glazed over, like someone who couldn’t see anything anymore.
And that smile…
Her smile.
I sometimes see it when I dream.
Ian did his best to approach her. He talked to her in that calming voice he has. A voice that would say everything was going to be all right if only she would give him the knife.
For a second, maybe not even that long, I saw something in her eyes. The glaze melted away, and she saw the knife, and she saw Daniel, and the smile didn’t leave her face.
Madness.
I don’t blame Ian for what he did. She went at me with the knife, and he stopped her. He stopped her the only way he knew how.
When it was finished, we clutched each other, just the two of us in this place.
I don’t know what terrified me more… Kelly’s actions or Ian and I being there by ourselves.
End log.
/>
Begin log. Sarah Knotts. May 29, 2019.
I’m at the end of things now.
The food has nearly run out. It was a good run. I can’t complain about that. Ian really did me right on that accord. Almost makes me…
No, I told myself that I would be strong about this. I’ve collected every spare bit of whatever I have around here. I don’t know if I’ll need it. Maybe the problem with being a pack rat is that even now, of all times, I can’t let the old shit go. My bags are packed. I’m ready to step outside, for whatever that is worth. I may not last five minutes out there. There’s actually no way to know what a person might encounter out there. It literally could be anything.
Anything.
That’s a difficult thing to prepare for. What was it last year? It all runs together these days. Plague, I think. Some unknown horror left behind by the CDC or some terrorist organization?
It makes a girl wonder if maybe the Earth is trying to tell us something. Dad had an old stereo, which actually could play albums. Yes, even long after the days of cds and then mp3s, he loved that thing. More than that, he’d go out and get these great comedy records.
Pryor, Murphy, and Carlin.
George Carlin had a whole routine about maybe the Earth invented AIDS in order to wipe the humans out. Now, I’m pretty sure he was joking with that one, being a comedian and all. Then again, when you have one extinction level event and you survive…maybe he was onto something. Maybe, just maybe, the world is tired of us and now wants to weed out the undeserving.
So what do you call it when you’ve survived five of them?
The air may be on fire out there. There could be an asteroid streaking towards us right now, and I wouldn’t know. I’d be stuck in this fucking box, staring at the empty shelves, dingy furniture mocking me from the corner, the entire world would incinerate, and you know what…
I’d probably survive that as well.
Only the strongest survive? I got news for you; I’m not all that strong.
Or maybe I don’t care about surviving anymore.
End log.
The Crossing: Moonlit Skies
Robert Jeffrey II
International Crossing Governing Body/ Classified Audio File
Transcript of Crossing - Entry 29876, Professor Jun Patton, Audio Diary
[Audio begins]
We’ve hit another world. Another lead, time spent scouring yet another place for any sign of this psycho and the abductee.
I think Dad might’ve been right. Maybe I bit off a bit more than I can possibly even swallow at this point. Maybe my place is just in the classroom, and research libraries, nose plastered into vid-logs of others’ cross dimensional journeys.
No, that’s that stupid self-doubt creeping in. The same self-doubt that crept in on the Zombie world, Utopia World, Neo-Fascist Pumpkin world.
The less said there the better.
It’s just… we keep coming so close to getting this guy. FBI Agent Mr. Mark “Tight Pants” Cooke says this is all a part of the investigation, the chase. He’s had investigations that have lasted months, years even.
“You have to be patient” is his constant refrain. And that’s when he talks. This guy has the whole “stoic warrior” down to a tee. I can’t even get a laugh out of him.
And hey, this is me we’re talking about! The life of the party. The “funny professor” that all the kids love.
But when you’ve seen some of the stuff we’ve come across, maybe laughing isn’t an option. For every world we’ve hit where strife and worry are an afterthought, there have been just as many worlds that will always leave me tossing and turning in bed for years to come.
We’ve done some good, helped some people.
[Pause in recording, audible sigh]
Couldn’t help everyone.
[Another pause in recording. Silence]
Damnit, Dad.
[Audible movement, shuffling.]
We’ve done good so far with the surviving. We’re still breathing. But he knows, and I sure as hell know, that the further this guy gets with Crossing from world to world, our chances get slimmer to catching them.
So as I get a first look at the double moons on this new Earth, I have to believe that we still have a chance.
A little girl’s life depends on me tackling this creeping self-doubt.
End of entry. Jun Patton out.
[Audio entry ends]
Earth 2418, 18:42:13
T he duo ran towards the departing grav train, arms’ fire punctuating the air. Shots meant for them hit the gleaming alloy of the train’s shell above their heads. The open door of the supply car beckoned further ahead.
Jun dropped lower to the ground, ducking the shots, as Mark turned and fired several rounds from his RH-80, one slug finding a snug home in another pursuer.
“Get on the train!” Mark shifted into a more stable shooter’s stance. Jun reached for her sidearm. “No! You’re running! I’m shooting! Do it!”
Jun responded with a frustrated nod and sprinted towards the open supply car door.
Another set of rounds fired by the special agent, the brightened colors of his tracer fire becoming lost in the neon blue tint of the sleek looking train’s bottom carriage.
Their followers wildly discharged their own technologically modified weapons, shots scattering across the double moon drenched train yard. Even with the perpetual night of this world, both otherworldly bodies managed to bathe the landscape in an eerie cream-colored glow.
It was one of the things Jun loved about this place, and that she hated leaving behind.
Unfortunately if they stayed, they’d both wind up sacrificed to the Lunar Deities of Earth 2418. Flayed and begging for death, like the other cursed souls they’d left behind.
Long story.
Not enough time to tell.
Gunfire and what not.
As several rounds continued to strike the ground in front of him, one even coming shockingly close to his head, Mark never lost his nerve. He kept faith that his experienced marksmanship trumped the inexperienced grandstand shooting of the cult foot soldiers.
He pulled the trigger, two more went down, cloaked bodies tumbling to the tracks.
Gotta make sure I get enough space between them and Jun. Mark felt the updraft of the departing cargo gravity train.
This world had introduced numerous wonders to the world's’ trotting duo, the grav train being one of many things that had kept Jun kept blabbering endlessly about “science” this and “technological advancements unheard of” that.
Jun. Where the hell is she?
“Up here!” Jun’s voice carried over the rising noise of the train.
Mark looked up to see his young companion looking out the open door, as the grav train picked up speed.
“Now, you run! I shoot!” Jun yelled, holding her gun out.
Mark understood, realizing he couldn’t continue to lay down cover fire and jump on a semi-speeding train. There was only so much he was capable of.
And besides, Jun apparently had a little bit of weapons training in her dossier.
Gunfire erupted above his head as Jun trained her sights on the pursuing cult members, not flinching with every shot she let loose.
The good thing about these trains was they were fairly low to the ground. As he leaped onto the now accelerating vehicle, he caught a glimpse of a round race near where he’d just been, whizzing off into the distance.
Mark rolled to a crouch, bringing his gun up in a fluid movement.
But as they sped into the Wastelands of Georgia (formerly known as OTP), there was no need for more gunfire as their attackers receded into the distance.
Jun turned with a huge grin on her face, the smile accenting her mocha skin tone. With her small afro pulled back in a puff, her youth was even more on display, relishing in the small bit of action they’d just been a part of.
“I think I probably got a couple of them!” She walked towards a palm-sized panel. S
lapping her hand down, a force-field shimmered to life, leaving an open view to the blighted landscape that whizzed by. Mark ran his hand across his stubble marked head, feeling the adrenaline of the chase finally wearing off.
Kayla would’ve suggested I leave the running and shooting to the young guys. He smiled.
The familiar pang struck as he thought of her, the laugh she would’ve followed up with as she walked away. The abruptness of the oncoming flood of memories began to trickle through, interrupted by his companion’s voice.
“You ok?” Jun asked, looking at him with concern. “I mean, that’s like the first time you’ve smiled since we’ve first met. It’s weird.”
“You screwed up back there in a major way. We have an assignment,” Mark said, ignoring the professor’s concern.
Jun held the agent’s stare, not giving an inch in the argument that was soon to come. “We’re doing this? Now? After we barely escape with our lives from the Jonestown cult with laser guns?”
Mark continued to stare out the shimmering forced field at the remains of I-285, where rusted out hulks of vehicles pockmarked the once mighty Spaghetti Junction. They’d had variations of the same discussion before, and it was wearing thin.
“We could’ve done something.” “Instead of just running, like we keep doing.”
“I’ve said this before. We can’t save everyone,” Mark calmly replied.
Jun stood silent for a moment, lost in thought.
“Zhè shì yuè lái yuè jíqí gǔlǎo,” Jun mumbled in an angry tone, breaking the quiet.
“Wǒ qīngxiàng yú tóngyì,” Mark said.
With an arched eyebrow Jun said, “They teach you that at Quantico?”
“Taught myself,” he replied. “Some of us didn’t have the luxury of learning from our parents.”
Machina Obscurum Page 19
