by Jake Bible
“I said I get it,” VanderVoort responds. “Sheesh. Beat a dead monster, will ya?”
“China has reached McKinley,” a different tech says. “We can see these.”
“Smart ass,” the first tech mumbles.
“Hood and St. Helens are en route,” the second tech announces. “They will arrive at McKinley’s coordinates in less than one hour.”
“It’s insane how fast these things move,” Dr. Hall gasps. “Yes, I know that their size allows them to cover ground at a rate unimaginable before, but still. Moving north across an entire region in less than an hour? Incredible.”
“Yes, very incredible,” President Nance says. “Someone show me their path.”
A tech looks at VanderVoort and she nods. The tech instantly brings up Hood and St. Helens, the satellite tracking their northern progress. President Nance points at the screen.
“Speed? Incredible,” President Nance says. “But look at the devastation they are leaving behind. Washington State through British Columbia is nothing but a wasteland. It was fragile before, after the Yellowstone eruptions, now it is a quagmire of epic proportions. Anyone left alive in that region will be lucky to survive a winter. All resources are gone- water, food, fuel, shelter. Gone. It’ll be generations before it can be rebuilt. So be impressed all you want, Doctor, but your awe is at the expense of millions of lives.”
“I wasn’t… I mean, I, uh…” Dr. Hall shakes his head then nods. “Right. Sorry.”
“Now that the guilt trip is over, has anyone gotten in touch with Sergeants Bolton and Holt?” VanderVoort asks. “Joan?”
Joan looks up from where she sits, a satellite phone handset perched on her shoulder and pressed against her ear. “Neither are responding. The phone they took from the facility may be damaged or lost.”
“Or they are dead,” VanderVoort says. “Keep trying. They could also have the phone off to conserve power. It’s a long way from the facility to Colorado Springs and there probably aren’t many places to plug in a phone charger.”
“They have a solar charger,” a tech says.
“Yeah, because with all the ash in the air, it’s nothing but sunny days for them out there,” VanderVoort smirks.
“You switch from optimism to pessimism and back to optimism at an alarming rate,” President Nance says. “Almost faster than those monsters destroy our planet.”
“I’m moody. We’ve established that,” VanderVoort says. “Sue me.”
“China is now engaging McKinley,” a tech announces. “Monkey lizard versus whatever the Yellowstone-looking things are.”
All eyes turn to Dr. Hall. He doesn’t notice for a second then Alvarez nudges him.
“What?” he asks. “Oh, um, quad-apes, maybe? Because of the four arms and squat legs.”
“No,” VanderVoort says. “That’s a horrible description and not worth our time. They are Yellowstone monsters. The big one is the boss and the smaller ones are the grunts. There. Established.” She shakes her head at Dr. Hall. “You just keep on the venom task. Leave the names to us.”
“That’s what I was doing,” Dr. Hall mutters as all eyes turn away from him and back to the main screen as the image of China closing in on McKinley pulls everyone’s attention.
***
A mix of simian and reptilian form, China has a long, prehensile tail, skinny, muscular legs with arms to match, and a squat body. The entire body is covered in iridescent scales, more reminiscent of a pangolin, the mammalian anteater relative, than a reptile. Yet the head is long and pointed, looking very lizard like. The claws at the ends of each finger represent the same characteristic- long, pointed, and very sharp.
The beast moves cautiously, approaching the McKinley monster one step at a time. Once it is only a couple miles away, and still out of McKinley’s reach, China stops, sitting down with its tail wrapping around its hindquarters. It begins to pick at the tip of its tail, seeming nervous and ready to bolt at any second.
McKinley roars and China flinches, its cheeks twitching involuntarily. But it doesn’t move from its position.
Slowly, keeping the same distance, McKinley starts to circle China, its eyes staying locked on the beast. Its feet create massive depressions in the meters of ash and snow that cover everything. The dim light of the North casts deep shadows, creating an almost surreal angularity to the monster’s body. It pauses and waits then raises its arms and roars, shaking its fists in the air.
China does not move, only watches with huge, saucer eyes that blink from side to side, two horizontal lids meeting in the middle.
McKinley rolls its shoulders and moves backwards, setting its feet into the frozen tundra. It takes a deep breath and then lets loose with a blast of sonic waves that pulse towards China.
Still China doesn’t move. Not until the sonic waves are upon it, then a large frill of skin extends from around China’s neck, just like a frilled dragon lizard from New Guinea or Australia. The skin cups around China’s head, creating a perfect dish. When the sound waves hit, they are deflected by the frill and redirected back at McKinley.
The larger monster roars in frustration as its own weapon is turned on it. It hurries out of the way, letting the fractured sonic waves dissipate as they fly past. Stomping its feet on the ground, McKinley flexes its muscles and squares its shoulders, tensing for a new attack.
Still China does not move. It only folds its frilled defense back to its neck, brushing at it until it is smooth once again. Then it returns to nervously playing with its tail.
McKinley is twice its size, yet the monster hesitates, watching the smaller creature closely, waiting for a new surprise. Seconds tick off, minutes go by, but China does nothing except blink and wait. The lack of action, whether offensive or defensive, infuriates McKinley and the larger monster closes in quickly.
China only waits.
McKinley towers over the crouched monster, its four arms raised to strike. They come down and fast, and just as fast, China leaps up and to the side. McKinley adjusts its attack instantly, but China seems to predict this, its tail shooting up and wrapping around one of McKinley’s wrists.
China curls itself into a ball and lets the momentum of its body swing it up and over McKinley’s arm. Its tail lets go as it hits the apex of its swing then it uncurls and spreads its arms wide, all those long, sharp claws suddenly above and only feet from McKinley’s head. It executes several swipes in the second between the start of its attack and McKinley’s huge hands coming up and swatting it away.
China grunts and squeals then slams into the earth, rolls back into a ball, tumbles a mile away, and comes to a stop against a small hill. It uncurls once more and holds its arm to its side, glancing down at the huge bruise that begins to color quickly. It shakes its head and chatters at McKinley, scolding the larger monster.
McKinley glares then wipes the blood from its face. Blood that continues to pour from the many wounds China inflicted in its quick counterattack. McKinley shakes its head, sending black red blood flying everywhere then takes a couple deep breaths and a couple tentative steps, testing its steadiness.
It pats at the wounds carefully then roars at China as its hands come away bloody, but not so bloody as to indicate serious wounds.
China chatters a few times then quiets down as it squats and its tail wraps about it once again. It continues to hold its bruised arm to its side, its eyes never leaving McKinley. Side blink, side blink, side blink.
McKinley scoops up a handful of ashy snow and earth and wipes it across its face, staunching the flow of blood almost instantly. It applies more until the wounds are packed tight and no longer causing an issue with its vision. Its massive eyes narrow, their deep black emptiness suddenly filling with violent rage.
China sniffs loudly then scratches its ass.
A roar and a leap and McKinley is back on the attack. It lands halfway between them and grabs up a large boulder, flinging it at China as it leaps once more. China squeals and dodges to the side, avoiding t
he boulder easily, but suddenly placing itself right in line with McKinley’s leaping attack.
Two massive hands grab China by its skinny shoulders and lift it up so that the two monsters are nose to nose. McKinley opens its mouth and roars, ready to finish the smaller one off with a hard chomp. China spits in the open monster’s mouth then rocks forward, slamming its forehead right into McKinley’s lower jaw. Teeth snap off and rain down to the ground as McKinley’s roar turns to a screech of pain.
China is sent flying once more. It lands in a tangle of limbs and tail then slowly pushes itself back into its squat. The tail resumes its position and the eyes side blink, side blink, side blink.
Grabbing at its wounded mouth, McKinley stumbles to the side, shaking its head back and forth, back and forth. It retreats to a position close to a rocky outcropping. It slams an angry fist into the outcropping, knocking several large boulders loose. It does it again and again until it stands next to nothing but a large pile of rubble.
China stops its blinking and tenses, its tail slowly uncurling. It screeches and chatters loudly as McKinley starts flinging the boulders at it, all four of the larger monster’s arms whirling one after the other.
Ducking low, China avoids the first couple of boulders, but it is quickly forced from its position, sent scurrying across the landscape. It dives and rolls, ducks and dodges, catching a boulder in the shoulder, one in the back, another in the hip. More miss than hit, but enough hit that the smaller monster is soon winded as well as wounded, blood dripping from its temple and gashes across its arms and legs.
McKinley presses the attack, tossing boulders ahead of it so it can move in and still have enough ammunition to keep China from settling down. Once out of boulders, it sprints as fast as its powerful legs will move it, closing the remaining distance in a blink.
China tries to avoid the grasp of the four hands, but one snags it around the neck, pinning its frill down, and squeezing hard enough that its eyes begin to bulge from its head. The giant mouth opens once more as China’s tail is gripped in place by one of McKinley’s hands, making sure the appendage cannot strike from below. The smaller monster tries to protest, but no sound can escape its constricted throat.
Then McKinley gasps and staggers, its grip loosening enough for China to drop to the ground and scamper away as far and fast as possible. China gets a safe distance and turns, its arms wrapped about its body and tail coiled again.
Japan stands behind McKinley, electric blue fire ripping into the monster’s back, tearing through flesh and bone, forcing the monster to its knees. It tries to turn towards Japan, but the creature does not let up, keeping the fire flowing, burning, searing through McKinley.
As McKinley’s chest begins to bubble, China claps in approval and then leaps up and down several times before settling back with its tail in place.
McKinley falls onto its face, a wide hole from its back to its front allowing whatever organs haven’t been scorched and fused to its ribs to spill out upon the tundra. Steam billows up from the corpse as the frozen ground thaws instantly, creating a mucky mire. McKinley’s corpse sinks into the mire, its heat being sucked down into the cold, cold earth below.
Japan roars at China and China chatters back. The two stare at each other until two far off roars grab their attention. They both turn and look to see St. Helens and Hood sprinting at them. Japan stomps its feet and turns to face them. China stays where it is and waits, its tail right where it’s supposed to be.
***
“I do not understand these things,” VanderVoort says. “You’d think we’d be ready for this shit since we had over a century to study the Substance. But, no. Not a fucking clue any of this was going to happen and not a fucking clue how to deal with it.”
She folds her arms across her belly and sighs.
“Joan?” she asks, turning to the National Security Advisor. “Anything?”
“I’m still trying,” Joan says. “This tech was able to confirm that the signal is getting through and being received by the other phone. The problem is no one is answering.”
“Yes, that is a problem,” VanderVoort says. She looks around. “God, what I wouldn’t give for that mojito now. Where the hell did Gordon go?”
Eleven
It’s the constant buzzing of the phone that finally brings Bolton back to consciousness. His subconscious had worked it into a bizarre dream he was having, making it seem like he was at a call center and no matter how many times he tried to answer the incessant buzzing, he couldn’t connect to the call.
When his eyes open, he realizes the buzzing is coming from only maybe a foot away. The problem is he can’t even move that foot. His whole body is pinned under a rusty beam that stretches as far as the dim light allows him to see.
He swallows a few times then says, “Holt? Holt, you there?”
A moan. Close to where the buzzing is.
“Holt? Wake up,” Bolton grunts. “Hey! Wake up!”
“No,” Holt replies, his voice a harsh whisper. “Hurts too much to wake up.” He coughs a few times. “I think I’m fucked, Bolton. Seriously.”
“Yeah, me too,” Bolton says. “I’m stuck under a roof beam.”
“Stuck…or crushed?” Holt asks. “Because stuck…would be…better. From the way….my guts…feel…”
Bolton waits. “Holt? Holt!”
“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m awake,” Holt responds, his voice weak.
“You were saying something about your guts,” Bolton says. “What’s wrong with your guts?”
“I don’t think they…” He coughs some more then moans. “Fuck. I don’t think my guts…are staying put. I can’t…move my hands…to find out.”
“Shit,” Bolton says. “I can’t move at all or I’d come help you.”
“Monsters?” Holt asks, so quiet Bolton has to ask him to repeat the word. “Monsters. Still…around?”
“No fucking clue,” Bolton says. “I don’t hear them and can’t feel the ground shaking, so that’s a good sign.”
“Yeah…fucking wonderful,” Holt coughs.
“Hold tight, man,” Bolton says. “I’m going to see if I can shift out from under this thing.”
“Try not to die…doing it,” Holt replies. “Try not…to kill…me either.”
“Can’t promise jack shit on either count, man,” Bolton says, twisting his left shoulder down, hoping to get some leverage to scoot his body to one side.
He’s able to move a few inches before things around him start to slide in a way he is not comfortable with. Bolton quickly freezes, hoping he hasn’t set off a chain reaction. Some quick breaths, a couple prayers, and he knows he isn’t going to be crushed to death. Not yet, anyway.
“That was touch and go,” he says. “I’m going to try again. Sit tight, Holt.” Bolton chuckles at his bad joke. He does not hear a chuckle in return. “Holt?” No response. “Holt?”
The buzzing starts again and Bolton jerks in surprise, slamming his head against a chunk of concrete only inches from him. He tilts his head and realizes he has shifted away from the buzzing, not towards it. He has a choice to make, either get to Holt or get to the buzzing which he realizes is the sat phone he and Holt were given when they left the facility. There is supposed to be radio silence, so things must really have changed for VanderVoort or her people to be calling.
“Holt!” he yells. No answer.
At least not from Holt. A far off roar filters down through the debris and Bolton strains to hear it again, but there is no second roar. He chocks it up to coincidence and takes another deep breath then shouts, “Holt!”
No moans, no groans. But there is a roar. And it is closer.
“Shit,” Bolton mutters.
The buzzing stops and he’s grateful. The phone only has so much power and eventually it’ll run out of juice if they keep calling him. He’s hoping they realize that before draining the battery while he’s trapped under a damned collapsed convenience store.
“Okay, okay, think,�
�� Bolton says. His eyes have adjusted somewhat to the gloom and he tries to make out the shapes around him. “Look for an opening, stay away from the weak points.”
He tests the stability below him by trying to tuck his legs up, bending them at the knees. He doesn’t get far. His legs are completely pinned and all he does is pull his torso down and shift some drywall enough that he now has a lungful of white dust.
“Fuck,” he coughs. “Holt, I hope you’re just sleeping.”
Another roar, much closer. The debris shakes slightly from the far off, giant footfalls.
“Fuck,” Bolton says again, coughing up more white dust.
***
The doors are enormous, larger than the ones at the far end of the tunnel, larger even than the ones where Dr. Scofield had taken Dr. Probst to observe the Substance before. The carts come to a slow, rolling stop until they are nearly touching them.
“I know these doors,” Lowell says quietly.
“What’s that?” Dr. Probst asks.”How can you possibly know these doors?”
“No, he’s right,” Lu says. “There is something familiar about them.”
“They look like the doors by the elevator,” Kyle says.
“No, kid, they don’t,” Lowell says. “They look like something else.”
“The look like they are meant to keep something in,” Lu says. “Like prison gates.”
“Exactly,” Lowell says. “Just like those. Jesus, you don’t think…?”
“That we may be opening the cell doors on something that should stay locked up?” Lu responds. “I sure as shit hope not.”
“I have the code to open the doors,” Dr. Probst says, standing up from her seat in the cart Lu is driving. She walks over to a panel set into the wall off to the right of the gigantic doors. The panel is about four feet square, each side two feet long. “Be ready to drive through as soon as possible. I don’t know how long the doors stay open.”
“You sure this is a good idea?” Lowell asks. He gets nothing but bored looks from the rest. “I know, I know. I have been asking that the whole drive down the tunnel. But, seriously. I’m not so sure we should be cracking open something that is obviously built to stay shut.”
