by Jake Bible
“Yeah, I’m off pudding for a while,” VanderVoort says. “How fast was that?”
“French monster was dispatched in fifteen minutes,” a tech says.
“Fifteen minutes,” VanderVoort responds, shaking her head as she runs her hand down her face. “That thing could breathe fire like a real fucking dragon and the Yellowstone bastard acted like he couldn’t give a shit. Fifteen minutes.”
“We had better hope our plan of lasers and drones isn’t for nothing,” President Nance says from his seat at the table.
Half the table is empty. Most of the advisors having gone to grab a quick nap or find food before sitting down again as helpless spectators to the end of the world. Nance looks at the few people still seated.
“Do we have any other ideas? Any thoughts on how we can stop this thing when its own kind can’t even get close?”
“These monsters are hardly of the same kind,” Dr. Hall says, his eyes bloodshot and the bags under them so dark he looks like he’s wearing stage makeup. Alvarez is asleep with his head cradled in his arms on the workstation. “We are looking at distinctly different species here.”
“Why? How?” President Nance asks. “For what purpose can these things even exist?”
“Different factions allied together against a common enemy,” Dr. Hall says. “Similar to how animals on the Serengeti see lions and the other big predators. They form an alliance at the waterhole in order to keep from being attacked and eaten. Not that that is a very good analogy since all of these monsters appear to be predators.”
“Yes, we have seen how they eat the small ooze things like snacks,” President Nance responds. “Yet none have eaten their advance troops like the North America monsters.”
“The dynamics are not the same,” Dr. Hall replies. “The larger of the North American monsters seem to be of the same species, with the Yellowstone one being the largest, by far. The next largest monsters, the six-legged ones that had originally emerged after the first eruption, are the advance troops. They seem to be under the control of the apex monsters, clearing a way for the Cascades monsters to emerge.”
“But not the same species?” President Nance asks.
“No, still not the same species,” Dr. Hall says. “An alliance between species, but not the same.”
“Another alliance,” President Nance says. “So what would the analogy be for these?”
“A bunch of punk ass bitches,” VanderVoort says. “I don’t care about analogies, I care about facts. Stop trying to equate these monsters’ patterns and behaviors with our animal kingdom.”
“Ma’am? Italy has arrived,” a tech says.
“Well, let’s hope the Italian fights better than the Frenchman,” VanderVoort sighs. “Bring up every angle we have.”
***
The Italian monster aims its three heads at the Yellowstone beast and fires three blasts of bright blue flames. Yellowstone shakes its fists at the flying monster then jumps to the side, barely avoiding the attack.
Rolling to a crouching position, Yellowstone watches and waits as the Italian monster banks and swoops in a wide circle, two heads aimed right at it while one looks forward, keeping the monster on course. More blue fire and Yellowstone leaps, this time easily avoiding the attack. It comes down hard and the ground cracks and crumbles, dropping a hundred feet before stabilizing again.
Yellowstone kicks its way up out of the insignificant divot it has made and turns about, staring right at the circling Italian monster. Two more bursts of flame, another dodge, and neither monster gains any ground in the conflict.
Then Yellowstone leaps backwards, landing right in the path of the Italian’s circle, two of its hands shooting out, each grabbing a neck and pulling down hard. The Italian monster slams into the earth as it roars in surprise. Yellowstone reaches for the third head, but gets a chest full of blue flame instead. It is Yellowstone’s turn to roar in surprise as it flings the Italian as far away from itself as it can.
The Italian skips across the earth, turning small hills into just more rubble for the apocalyptic landscape. When it finally skids to a stop, one of the heads is bent at a horrible angle and the other two are crying out, screeching in pain and anguish. But it manages to push itself up, its wings beating steadily until it can attain some lift and rise up into the sky once again.
Yellowstone roars and sonic waves pulse towards the Italian. But the winged monster is able to get enough altitude to avoid the attack, turning itself towards a far off ridge of a mountain that is still left standing. Yellowstone watches it go, tracking the retreating monster’s path. It seems to relax for a few minutes, waiting until the Italian has landed, then takes off running, its powerful legs, despite their wounds from the previous fights, carrying it at a blinding speed across what was once Wyoming.
The Italian fires more flames then launches itself skyward. But it isn’t fast enough. Yellowstone reaches it and grabs the thing by its tail, spinning it about like an Olympic hammer thrower, then lets go, sending the Italian rocketing across the land.
It smashes to the ground miles away and Yellowstone is already sprinting back at it, covering the distance in seconds. On its way it picks up two large boulders, one in a left hand, one in a right hand, and then leaps into the air, the arms outstretched and the boulders leading the way.
The Italian whips its working heads about, ready to shoot more flames, but instead it gets two boulders jammed down its throats as Yellowstone lands on it in a brutal impact of monster flesh. Yellowstone roars in pain as the Italian’s teeth clamp onto its forearms, but instead of yanking its hands free, Yellowstone pushes forward until it is up to its biceps in Italian throat.
The Italian flops like a fish caught on a hook, its body flapping about, its arms trying to claw at Yellowstone, its legs desperate to get under to assist its wings in pulling itself free. Then its throats burst open as Yellowstone drives the boulders out through the necks. Blue flames spill out and sputter before dying. The Italian monster is not far behind, its massive body twitching a few last death throes before going still.
Yellowstone frees itself and then tears off the Italian’s heads, one by one by one. It rips into them, bluish blood spilling down its chin and onto its chest as it feasts in triumph once more.
***
“We are so, so fucked,” a tech whispers.
But the situation room is so quiet that the whisper easily echoes around for all to hear. No one argues with or chastises the tech, not even VanderVoort.
Nine
“I am not happy with this plan,” Lowell says, standing at the far side of the lab, directly opposite the room’s doors. “This plan does not make me happy.”
“It’s your damn plan. And it doesn’t have to make you happy,” Lu says as she sets a gurney between a lab table and the doors’ wall, blocking off access to the right of the room. “Just has to work and trap those things so we can get out.”
Kyle, still a little shaky, sets a second gurney across from Lu’s, creating a gauntlet of gurneys and lab tables from the door to where Lowell stands. He locks the wheels in place then rests against the gurney.
“How are you holding up?” Lu asks him, climbing over her gurney and covering the space quickly. “You going to be able to handle the escape?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” Kyle nods, pulling away from his mother as she reaches for him. “I’m a big boy.” He takes a deep breath and looks over at Dr. Probst who is busy typing at her laptop. “That last knockout was a rough one, though. What did you call it?”
“A sub-psychic autonomic reaction,” Dr. Probst replies without looking up from her computer. “That’s what it’s called in the database. Apparently it has happened before, but not quite as harsh. Periodic pulses emitting from the Substance over the years have rendered several different rotations of this facility’s staff unconscious. If the accounts in here are correct then we have nothing to worry about until we’ve been knocked out at least five or six times.”
“Th
en what?” Lowell asks. “You all turn into those things?”
“If the pulses get stronger then you may be affected as well, Lowell,” Dr. Probst says. “However, I find that unlikely. There are reports of some staff being immune to the pulses. They were the ones that kept the facility from being destroyed by the others. Yet…”
“Yet? Not liking the yet,” Lowell says. “Not liking much of any of this.”
“Yet it looks like those that weren’t rendered unconscious were removed from duty shortly after new staff could be assigned,” Dr. Probst says. “Their files end there. No known addresses or future assignments.”
“Oh,” Lowell says, looking up at one of the cameras in the lab. He flips it off. “Better not disappear me when we get out of here!”
“If we get out of here,” Kyle says.
“There,” Dr. Probst says, closing her laptop and stowing it in a backpack. She puts the pack on, tightens the straps and smiles at the rest. “Ready to go. I have unlocked corridor doors from here to the Substance. Or to the carts that will take us to the Substance. It’s too far to walk to. Dr. Scofield showed me that.”
“Great. I’m going to die riding a golf cart to Hell,” Lowell says. “If I don’t die in here with the Doctors Horrible trying to tear me apart.”
“Quit whining and get ready,” Lu says. “You came up with this idea so start showing some balls, Lowell.”
“Oh, I got balls,” Lowell says, jumping up and down as he rolls his head on his neck. “Big balls. Big, big—”
“We get it,” Kyle says. He crouches under the gurney. “Let’s get this over with.”
Lu crouches under the gurney with Kyle as Dr. Probst crouches under the gurney opposite them.
“Here we go,” Dr. Probst says, reaching up to activate the doors then yanking her hand back quickly and tucking herself into a tight, unobtrusive ball.
The headless things that used to be Drs. Burkhorst, Scofield, and McDaniels scramble into the lab, their legs mutated and bulging against their uniforms. Several spots in the material have torn, revealing squirming, squiggling masses of red flesh. The creatures instantly see Lowell standing across the lab and rush at him.
“Ah, fuck,” he says as he stands there, waiting, timing, prepping for the one shot at trapping the things.
They are almost to him when Lu rolls out from under the gurney and jumps to her feet.
“Go!” she shouts at Kyle and Dr. Probst.
Both of them scramble out from under their gurneys and hurry into the corridor. Kyle takes a quick second to look at his mother, but Dr. Probst grabs his arm before he can hesitate too long. They are lost from sight quickly.
The headless creatures spin about at Lu’s voice and slither sprint at her. But she stops them in their tracks as she flicks a flame from a long utility lighter. Just the sight of the small flame causes the headless creatures to pause.
Lu reaches out, placing the flame close to a jet on one of the lab tables and bright yellow fire shoots out. A jet on the opposite side of the gauntlet catches as well and the space between Lu and the creatures is nothing but fire, growing and twisting into a barrier the things want nothing to do with.
They turn on their deformed heels and move towards Lowell, but he has a lighter out as well, flicks it, and sets the flame to his own set of jets.
“Bummer, huh?” Lowell smirks then sprints to the side, running as fast as he can to get away from the creatures and their temporary trap.
And temporary is the word. Lowell knows the things won’t stay put for long. Fire seems to scare them, but it takes a full purge to really stop them. He witnessed that with Dr. Bennet.
He reaches Lu’s gurney and hops over it, helping her free it from where it’s wedged. Before shoving it out into the corridor, Lowell and Lu grab up several packs of supplies and toss them onto the gurney.
The creatures screech and hiss, looking from one end of their fiery gauntlet to the other. Then they see the flaw in the trap and are leaping over the tables, their legs extending impossibly long, their arms warping into long vines of flesh.
“Shut it, shut it, shut it!” Lowell yells, shoving the gurney away from the doors as Lu turns to lockdown the lab.
She gets her hand to the control pad, but screams as a tentacle shoots from the lab and wraps about her wrist. Her skin sizzles under the thing’s touch and she tries to pull back, but as she does a swatch of her skin peels away.
“Dammit!” Lowell yells and grabs up the M16 lying on the gurney. He puts it to his shoulder and fires at the tentacle, missing spectacularly.
Until the last slug rips into the thing, sending black blood splattering everywhere and Lu falling to the ground, suddenly free. Lowell keeps pulling the M16’s trigger, but it only makes a hollow clicking noise.
“New magazine!” Lu shouts, trying to get to her feet as she cradles her hand to her chest. “In that first pack!”
Lowell moves to the pack, but there is no need as the M16 is yanked from his grip by two tentacles. A third grabs him around the ankles and pulls him off his feet, sending him falling hard and fast. Stars explode in his eyes as the back of his head slams into the concrete.
His mind fuzzy and a loud ringing in his ears, Lowell feels himself being pulled towards the lab and he scrambles to grab onto the gurney as he slides past. He hooks a hand around a strut and the gurney starts to follow him then stops as Lu brakes the wheels.
The pressure on Lowell’s ankles increases and he fears his bones will be crushed by the tentacle that has him. Then the pressure is gone. So is his hearing as Lu opens fire with the .45 pistol she pulls from her hip, obliterating the tentacle.
Lowell slips and slides his way to his feet, tentacle blood nearly keeping him from getting upright. He reaches out and smacks his hand against the door controls, sealing the lab off as a mass of tentacles rocket at his head. There is thud after thud after thud against the doors as they slam shut and the tentacles, along with their owners, are locked in.
“That wasn’t so hard,” Lowell smirks as he gasps for breath. He limps to the gurney and leans against it. “Wanna give me a ride, Marshal? My legs feel like jelly.”
“No,” Lu says and shows him her wrist where the flesh hangs in tatters. “Want to give me a ride?”
“You’re going to want to put something on that,” Lowell says. “Neosporin, at the very least.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Lu says. “Come on, let’s find my son and Dr. Probst. You are pushing.”
“Ugh,” Lowell says. The thuds against the lab doors get louder and louder, joined quickly by howls of frustration and rage.
“How the hell are they making those sounds?” Lowell asks. “The motherfuckers don’t have any heads.”
“I don’t really care,” Lu says. “As long as they stay put.”
“I’m with ya there,” Lowell says.
They make a few turns then catch up with Dr. Probst and Kyle. Lu limps to her son and throws an arm around his shoulders. He quickly pushes her away, but not in embarrassment. His eyes lock on her wrist.
“What happened?” he asks.
“They got grabby,” Lowell says, pointing down at his shredded pants legs. “Nearly got us both. But your mom was fast on the draw and I was fast on the door closing.”
“Good,” Dr. Probst says. “This way. Let’s get to the elevator.”
They all nod and make their way down the corridor, through two more sets of security doors and into a small atrium space where at the very end sits the elevator, open and waiting.
“Everyone in first,” Lu says, slapping a fresh magazine into her .45. “We stand at the back and put the gurney between us and the doors.”
“Won’t that box us in?” Kyle asks.
“Yes, but it will also put something between us and anything that may surprise us when the elevator opens,” Lu says.
“There’s more?” Kyle asks.
“I don’t know,” Lu says. “And I don’t want to be surprised if there are.�
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“I like your paranoia, Marshal,” Lowell says, limping quickly into the elevator.
Kyle and Dr. Probst follow him then Lu wheels in the gurney. All but Dr. Probst look at the walls to each side of the elevator doors.
“Uh. Where are the buttons?” Lowell asks.
“What? Oh, sorry,” Dr. Probst says. She takes her laptop from her pack and sets it on the gurney. “Let me get us moving.”
She taps at the keyboard then stops suddenly and frowns.
“The lab doors have been opened,” she says.
“Then fucking close these!” Lowell yells.
Lu raises her .45 and Kyle presses his back against the elevator wall as the howling sounds of the creatures begins to be heard.
“Doctor,” Lu hisses, her head cocked and listening. A loud, wet slapping noise, like the brushes of a car wash, echoes through the corridor. “Dr. Probst?”
“I’m trying, I’m trying,” she snaps. “The signal to my laptop is weak.” She looks around at the elevator. “Shit.”
Dr. Probst pushes the gurney out of the way and steps from the elevator.
“There!” she says as the doors start to close. Before she can take a step, they are shut and she is lost from everyone’s view. They quickly reopen. “Uh, we have a problem.”
“Move the crap off the gurney!” Lu yells. “Now!”
Lowell and Kyle grab the bags and packs and toss them onto the floor of the elevator car.
“On,” Lu orders, nodding at Dr. Probst as she steps forward, her .45’s aim never straying from the corridor. The slapping sound is considerably louder. “Lowell, Kyle, grab onto the end of the gurney and get ready to pull.”
“What are you…? Oh, good idea,” Dr. Probst says.
She hops onto the gurney and places her laptop at the end closest to the corridor. Lowell and Kyle push the gurney part way out of the elevator then hang on tight as Dr. Probst taps at the keys.
