by Jake Bible
“Excuse me?” Dr. Hall asks.
“The greater cause? What is it?” VanderVoort asks.
“I, well, don’t know,” Dr. Hall replies, looking about the room. “I thought you would know that. I’m just studying the monsters, not figuring out their end goals.”
“Start working on the end goal part as well,” VanderVoort says. “We all have, so you might as well take a crack at it too.”
Dr. Hall just blinks a few times.
“Go on, doctor,” VanderVoort sighs.
“Let me,” Alvarez says. “I understand the military aspects better. Here’s the thing- the monsters are acting like an army on the move, forces spreading out and taking control. Laying waste to enemy territory and securing areas they see as strategic. But there have been some anomalies in the monsters’ behavior.”
“The crabs and whale-squids,” VanderVoort says. “Yes, you’ve mentioned those before.”
“Here’s the thing,” Alvarez says. “We think there are two other volcanoes, deep undersea, both in the Atlantic and Pacific that erupted when the second huge EMP went off. Their eruptions could have added to the Yellowstone EMP. Have some techs check the numbers. I bet they find evidence of that. These new volcanoes spit out other creatures. Forces designed to box in the Yellowstone monsters, to keep them on the continent.”
“But some flew out over the water,” a tech says. “Some made it off the continent.”
“Did they last?” Alvarez asks. “My guess? They got picked off before they could go too far.”
“Okay, let’s work with this theory,” VanderVoort says. “What are they fighting over?”
Alvarez and Dr. Hall look at each other then back at VanderVoort.
“We don’t know,” Dr. Hall says. “That’s the end goal stuff.”
“But wars don’t just happen,” VanderVoort states. “Trust me. They are begun and fought for certain reasons. What are the reasons here? What do the monsters from Yellowstone want that the others don’t want them to have? One force has one set of goals and another has either an opposite set or their goals are to merely thwart the first force. I want to know why.”
“With more research of the monsters—” Dr. Hall begins.
“To hell with research of the monsters,” VanderVoort says. “They are big, they are ugly, they destroy everything and we haven’t even put a dent in stopping them. Now they are all over the globe. They are insignificant, as far as I am concerned. Like a hurricane or tsunami. They have happened, now we deal with the aftermath. Knowing the whys and the goals and the reason should be our new focus.”
She turns to the situation room.
“The pregnant lady has changed her mind again, people!” she announces. “I no longer care about what the monsters are, I only care aboutwhy they are! I want to know their motivations. I want to know what makes them tick and why. I want childhood psych workups, letters from their kindergarten teachers! I want you to read their diaries and find the notes they have passed in class! You will stalk them, harass them, make them tell you their deepest, darkest secrets! Am I understood?”
No one replies.
“Those were metaphors,” VanderVoort sighs. “Just figure out why they are fighting and what they want, okay? Get to work.”
The room gets to work.
VanderVoort looks about.
“Pudding,” she says, snapping her fingers. “The lady needs more pudding!”
***
The three sit and wait. They wait. And they wait.
“Are we going to let him sleep the whole time?” Lowell whispers. “I’d like to leave here now, please.”
“What makes you think he can get us out?” Lu asks.
“He works here,” Lowell shrugs. “Lives here, knows this place. I bet he knows how to override the locks. Or maybe there’s a secret passageway.”
Lu gives him a pitying look.
“Okay, okay, there’s no secret passageway,” Lowell admits. “And the doctor probably can’t get us out of here anymore than we can.”
“Lockdown,” Kyle says.
“Locked in,” Lowell corrects. “Locked in with Sleeping Ugly there.”
“Rude,” Dr. Bennet says without opening his eyes.
Lowell, Lu, and Kyle jump. Lowell puts his fists up again.
“Dude,” Kyle laughs. “You’d stop doing that if you could see yourself.”
“I’m trying a new look,” Lowell smirks. “So shut your trap, kid.”
“Talking about someone while thinking they cannot hear you is rude,” Dr. Bennet says, this time opening his eyes. He fixes his gaze on Lowell. “And calling someone ugly is doubly rude. You should apologize.”
“I should?” Lowell asks. “Uh, I’m sorry?”
“That was not sincere,” Dr. Bennet says and sits up, swinging his legs off the gurney. With one push he is down and on his feet. “Sincerity is required in a true apology. Sincerity shows that you are truly penitent. That you believe in your transgression. That you understand you have broken a sacred code amongst men.”
“Yeah, I was just being a smart ass,” Lowell says. “So, pretty sure there was no code broken. Men get to be smart asses with each other. That’s just how life works.”
“Hmmm,” Dr. Bennet says. “I am sure that is how you see things. But, then, you are a convicted murderer and kidnapper. Your codes in life are vastly different than mine.”
“Vastly different?” Lowell responds. “Uh, is it me or have you started talking like some 1950’s mad scientist?”
Dr. Bennet doesn’t reply. He stretches for a long while, arching his back until each vertebrae pops. He rolls his neck, rolls his shoulders, twists at the hips.
“Getting ready for your Jane Fonda workout?” Lowell laughs.
“It is best to be limber before extreme physical activity,” Dr. Bennet says.
“Kyle, get behind me,” Lu orders. “Now.”
“Yep, the creepy is back,” Lowell says, backing as far away from Dr. Bennet as possible. “Listen to your mother, kid. I don’t think the good doctor woke up with all of his marbles in place.”
“You feel I am a threat, Marshal Morgan?” Dr. Bennet asks, his attention moving from Lowell to Lu. “What makes you believe such a thing?”
“First, your speech pattern is different,” Lu replies. “Second, your body language is telling me you are about to attack. I’ve seen it a lot in my job. Third—”
“There’s a third?” Dr. Bennet laughs. “How quaint.”
“She already mentioned the speech pattern thingy, dude,” Lowell says. “You don’t have to rub it in.”
“Third,” Lu continues. “Your eyes have darted to that cabinet at least four times since you woke up.” Lu removes a revolver from the small of her back where she had it tucked in her pants. “I’d wager you want this. Am I right?”
“You are correct, yes,” Dr. Bennet nods. “That pistol would have been helpful. Not just to make my job easier, but also to keep you from defending yourselves. Now my job is that much harder.”
“Sorry about that,” Lu says. “Care to say what your job is?”
“Killing the three of you and sacrificing your corpses to the Substance so it may learn from your neural networks and better defend itself against the threats of this planet.”
“Yeah, that’s a pretty specific answer,” Lowell says. “That covers a lot right there.” He gulps then clears his throat. “Shoot him, Marshal. Put one right between his eyes.”
“A couple more questions,” Lu says.
“Ah, come on, Lu!” Lowell snaps. “Blow his fucking brains out! We’ve all seen this movie! One of us gets it if you don’t stop him now!”
“None of you can stop me,” Dr. Bennet says. “And all of you are, as you put it, getting it. If you surrender it will be painless. If you fight I will make more than certain that you suffer so greatly you will beg and beg for a mercy that I will not grant.”
“Oh, come on!” Lowell snaps. “You have to shoot him after s
aying weird shit like that!”
“Shoot him, Mom,” Kyle says.
“Not yet,” Lu replies. “He can tell us more.”
“Tell you more? Such as what? What I could I possibly tell you that will help you understand the complex actions taking place on this planet at this very moment?” Dr. Bennet chuckles. “Your simian brains are not equipped to deal with intricacies such as what are occurring on the surface.” He gives a wink and takes a step towards Lu. “And under the surface.”
“What complex actions? What intricacies?” Lu asks, standing her ground as Dr. Bennet takes another step towards her. “If we are too stupid to understand then it won’t hurt for you to try to explain.”
“Oh, there you are wrong,” Dr. Bennet says. “It will hurt greatly.” He smacks his head twice with the open palm of his right hand. “Having to even communicate with you ape things at all hurts not only my intellect, but my pride. You are gnats, the insects of this planet.”
“So what does that make the actual insects then?” Lowell asks.
“Lowell, leave this to me,” Lu says. “How about you try us, Dr. Bennet? Or whatever your name is. I am guessing it is no longer Dr. Bennet.”
“Bennet,” Dr. Bennet says. “Bennet, Bennet, Bennet. He was strong for a long time. Longer than most. So were all of the latest members of this pr— This place’s staff. They hold out and hold out, but in the end they succumb. It just so happens that Dr. Bennet has succumbed at such a very opportune time. His form could live on for quite a while if it isn’t damaged prematurely.”
“Am I going to get answers?” Lu asks.
“No, Marshal Morgan, you are not going to get answers,” Dr. Bennet responds. “At least not to the questions you have. But when I am through with you, you will have learned so much more than you could have even thought to ask about.”
Lu squeezes the trigger, but Dr. Bennet isn’t there. He’s suddenly at her side, his hand coming down on her wrist, sending shockwaves of pain up her arm. She cries out and the gun tumbles from her fingers, skidding across the tiles, clattering against the baseboards under one of the cabinets.
Lowell instinctively makes a dash for the gun, but comes up short as he’s clotheslined by Dr. Bennet’s arm. Lowell is down and on his back, the air knocked from his lungs, his throat swelling up, all in the blink of an eye.
Lu throws a punch at Dr. Bennet’s belly, but the man sidesteps easily, catching her fist in his hand. He twists back so hard and fast that Lu is flipped onto her back, her skull smacking against the tile floor with a thickening thud. Lu’s eyes glaze over and she blinks several times before she can refocus.
“I could stomp on your windpipe,” Dr. Bennet says, still gripping Lu’s fist. “That would be too fast an end. I could rip your arm off and beat you with it. But that would make me the simian savage, wouldn’t it? What to do, what to do…”
“How about you die, asshole?” Kyle says, the revolver leveled at the back of Dr. Bennet’s head. He pulls the trigger and blood, brain, bone splatter across the infirmary.
Dr. Bennet stands there for a second then turns slowly and cocks what’s left of his head.
“Shit,” Kyle says and pulls the trigger again.
The rest of Dr. Bennet’s head vaporizes, leaving only a bloody, ragged stump of a neck. The man’s body still does not fall. Kyle aims at Dr. Bennet’s chest and pulls the trigger three more times until the revolver clicks empty.
Still the man stands.
Then the body begins to shudder and bulge.
A gurney slams into it and Lowell keeps pushing until the body and the gurney ram the far wall. Dr. Bennet is split in two, his legs flopping to the ground and his headless torso rolling onto the gurney.
“Burn it with fire!” Lowell yells, his voice a raspy growl. He runs over to an oxygen tank and aims the nozzle at Dr. Bennet’s split corpse. “Find me something to make a spark with!”
“Like what?” Kyle yells as he hunts around.
“That!” Lowell yells, pointing to a defibrillator. “Charge it up and turn it on!”
“It won’t spark!” Kyle says. “Trust me! I’ve volunteered as an EMT!”
“It’ll spark if you discharge it against metal!” Lowell argues.
The two halves of Dr. Bennet’s corpse continue to bulge and swell, changing form before their eyes.
“Oh, just use this,” Lu says as she stumbles between them and Dr. Bennet’s corpse, a small torch in her hand. “Give me that.”
Lowell quickly wheels the tall oxygen tank over and cranks the valve open. Lu puts the torch to nozzle and four feet of blue flame shoot out at the swelling body parts. The halved corpse begins to sputter and then catches, its flames a bright green.
“Damn,” Lowell says, cranking the valve closed before the fire can backtrack and blow the tank up. “Will you look at that.”
Then the automatic fire suppressant system kicks in, spraying every surface, including Lu, Lowell, and Kyle, with white foam. The green flames of Dr. Bennet’s corpse sputter and die. The body parts stay still for a moment then begin their swelling again.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lowell yells.
The infirmary doors open suddenly and Lu doesn’t hesitate. She grabs Kyle and Lowell by the arms, yanking them from the room just before the doors slam shut once again.
“Contagion purge protocol in effect,” a computerized voice states.
Then the infirmary is nothing but a room of fire. Every square inch is scorched and cleansed. Lu backs up, her arms shielding her eyes. Once the flames die down she, Lowell and Kyle step closer and cautiously look through the doors’ windows.
The room is a charcoal graveyard.
“That was lucky,” Lowell says.
“Not really,” Lu replies, pointing to a video camera in the corridor. “I have a feeling someone finally checked in on us.”
“Thanks,” Lowell says, waving at the camera then nudges Kyle. “Be polite, kid. Big Brother just saved our asses.”
“Sometimes I have no idea what you are saying,” Kyle admits as he waves at the camera.
“Oh, the youth these days,” Lowell sighs, looking at Lu. “I weep, Marshal. I weep.”
Six
Voices. The room is full of nothing but voices.
“Shut up!” Dr. Probst screams. “All of you shut up!”
It has been hours. Hours and hours of the facility scientists shouting at her, screaming for her to kill herself, to put that pistol in her mouth, point up, and pull the trigger. Or slash her wrists, going lengthwise in order to do it properly, and just letting her veins open up.
But Dr. Probst has made it through the many, many hours without succumbing to their suggestions. She has stayed fast at her work station and fought against taking the last five bullets and putting them through Dr. Burkhorst, Dr. Scofield, and Dr. McDaniels’ skulls. She has been patient, disciplined, strong.
But strength can only last so long and now her resolve is slipping. She can feel the weakness in her getting stronger. She chuckles at the thought of a strong weakness.
“Something funny, cunt?” Dr. McDaniels asks. “Something tickle that tiny brain of yours?”
“Tell us, Cheryl,” Dr. Scofield says. “Tell us the joke. Come on. Share. I love a good joke. I’m a jokester myself. Care to hear one?”
“No,” Dr. Probst says.
“Too fucking bad,” Dr. Scofield laughs. “Too fucking bad. Here it goes. Ready? I don’t really care if you are or not. Gonna say it anyway.”
He takes a deep breath.
“I’M GOING TO SKULL FUCK YOU, BITCH!” Dr. Scofield roars.
“That was amusing, Edward,” Dr. Burkhorst says. “But hardly a joke. More a prediction. Knowing your sexual proclivities, I would be surprised if you didn’t do something so perverted as to copulate with her skull.”
“You take the fun right out of things, Burkhorst,” Dr. Scofield sighs. “So clinical. So cold. So calculating.”
“It is the burden of my
profession,” Dr. Burkhorst says. “Would you like to hear the other burden, Dr. Probst? Eh, Cheryl? Would you?”
“Not particularly,” Dr. Probst replies, her eyes studying the latest data.
She watches as the readings by the Yellowstone caldera continue to increase, setting energy levels far greater than anything ever recorded. The area should have theoretically gone super nova. A star-sized explosion on a planet, in a National Park, right where Old Faithful used to spout.
Old Faithful. Something about the landmark geyser makes her think…
“CHERYL!” Dr. Scofield yells. “CHERYL, CHERYL, CHERYL!”
The thought, the glimpse at a possible answer, rushes from her mind.
“Dammit!” she yells and whirls around in her chair. It’s the first time she’s looked directly at the scientists in hours. She freezes, the pistol in her hand, her jaw hanging open. “Oh.”
Dr. McDaniels has a pool of black blood surrounding her. The others have smeared their bodies with it, rolled in it, coated themselves in McDaniels.
“Hi,” Dr. Scofield smiles, dried blood caked around his mouth. “Like the new look? It was considerably more dynamic when it was fresh.”
“It’s dull now,” Dr. Burkhorst says.
“Boring,” Dr. McDaniels adds.
“Yes, quite,” Dr. Burkhorst agrees. “Very boring.”
“Gonna use that?” Dr. Scofield asks, nodding at the .22. “Gonna shoot us dead? Or shoot yourself? Come on, Cheryl, do it. Shoot yourself.”
“Or shoot us,” Dr. Burkhorst says. “You could quiet us quickly. Place the barrel to our temples, one at a time, and pull the trigger, one at a time. We’ll be quiet forever. Then you can concentrate and not lose your train of thought.” She smiles, grins, smirks, cracked blood flaking off her cheeks, falling into her stained lap. “Yes, Cheryl, yes I saw you lose that train of thought. Your shoulders tensed, your body showed nothing but anguish. Rage, even. Now I see I am right. Your eyes tell all. You’d be horrible at poker.”
“I am horrible at poker,” Dr. Probst says.
“Shoot yourself and live forever,” Dr. Burkhorst says. “Live down here forever and be part of something bigger than the sum of all life on this pitiful planet.” More smile, grin, smirk. “Am I bluffing, Cheryl? Am I?”
