by Scott Shoyer
The creature in front of them bent down and placed its hand inside the sac from which it moments ago had emerged. It scooped up a handful of the thick goo and rubbed it over its chest and face. The thing tilted its head back and emitted a high-pitched shriek.
The silence in the room was broken as the steel bars from the security door retracted into the wall. Wilder pulled the heavy door, and as it swung open, he felt more movement behind him. Wilder was no stranger to complete situational awareness. He experienced it on every mission. It was what kept him alive.
Wilder saw Steele walk to the security door to help him open it, and he started to tell him to keep an eye on the room behind him, but it was too late.
The creature that moments ago was bathing itself in the fluid from the cocoon raced toward them. Before Wilder could shout out a warning, the creature grabbed Stacey and ran away from the others as they stood by the security door. It happened so quickly that Wilder wasn’t even sure it happened at all.
Except for the fact that Stacey was gone.
They heard a scream from the other side of the room and knew that Stacey was dead.
“Holy shit!” Stefan cried as he tried to control his shaking hands. “Did you see how fast that thing was? I was standing right next to her and it just took her. How could it do that? How could it be that fast?”
Cheryl stood in front of Stefan and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Stefan,” she said in a calm tone, “there was nothing you could do. But I need you to stay with us. We need to get out of here. We need your help.”
Wilder had opened the security door and saw that, all around him, more and more creatures had gotten out of their cocoons. Most of the creatures still looked dazed from the journey their minds and bodies had just taken, while others were already bathing themselves in the goo.
“We don’t have much time,” Wilder said. “Grab him if you need to!” he yelled over to Stefan.
“I’m good,” Stefan finally said. “I’m good.”
After Stefan stepped through the security door, Wilder slammed it shut. The steel bars inside the wall slid into the casings in the door.
“What the hell is going on?” Steele asked.
“That’s a pretty popular question right now,” Josef said in their ears. “Get back up here as fast as you can. I might have an idea.”
“Roger that,” Wilder replied.
“Oh yeah,” Josef added. “Don’t forget to lock the doors behind you on your way back.”
2
AC/DC Bus
Five Miles Outside Round Rock, Texas
The distribution center was miles behind them, but everyone on the bus sat in silence as the deadly events replayed over and again in their heads. In a matter of minutes, they’d lost three of their friends and companions, and they all knew it could’ve been worse.
Murphy was behind the wheel and kept them on a westward route. They approached the city of Round Rock and had no intention of stopping in the city. They were well stocked from the raid on the distribution center and had plenty of gas. What should have been a happy time was tainted with the loss of human life.
“How you holding up?” Riker asked Teagan as he sat down next to her on the bus.
“I’m confused,” she answered. “My brain can’t process what just happened. What the hell are those cocoon things, and what the hell are inside them?”
“What I can’t figure out is why there were some regularly infected zombies there,” said Riker. “I thought all the creatures around here went into those cocoons. It makes no sense.”
“Sure it does,” a voice from across the aisle said. “I think the things inside the cocoons were those yellow-eyed bastards. Like the ones that attacked us at the trailer park.” Hector drank a beer in the seats across from Riker and Teagan.
“Oh my God,” Teagan said. “I think Hector’s right. The two zombies that attacked us back there didn’t have the yellow eyes. They were strong and fast, but nothing like the yellow-eyed creatures that attacked us at the trailer park.”
“I noticed that too,” Riker said. “So you both think the yellow-eyed creatures are in the cocoons?” Riker asked Teagan and Hector. “Why? What’s happening to them?”
“They’re mutating again,” Stewart said from the seats behind them.
“I didn’t realized they mutated at all,” Riker replied.
“I’ve been paying attention to these things from day one,” Stewart continued. “Their first mutation was when they jumped from animals to people.” Stewart saw the confused look on Hector’s face. “It’s been established that infected animals from military labs that escaped into the wild was how the infection gained a foothold in the general population. That was the first mutation. Then,” Stewart continued, “they mutated again into those yellow-eyed creatures we saw back at the trailer park. On our journey up and down the east coast, we saw more and more of the yellow-eyed creatures. We watched as their ranks grew.”
“So the virus just randomly spawned these yellow-eyed things?” Hector asked.
“No… maybe,” Stewart said. “I think the mutation to the yellow eyes was the virus adapting itself and making it stronger and more resilient.”
“Okay,” Riker said. “So now the creatures are faster, stronger, and smarter. So what’s up with the cocoons?”
Stewart appeared to hesitate.
“Spill it, Stewart,” Teagan said. “I can tell from the look on your face that you have a theory.”
“Yeah,” Hector joined in. “Don’t leave us hanging.”
“Okay, okay,” Stewart said. “I used to study and read a lot before the world ended. I was always interested in science and medicine as well as more esoteric subjects. I never went to school and studied chemistry and all those subjects, but I read more books on those subjects than med students.” Stewart took a deep breath.
“The infection that caused the original outbreak behaved oddly,” Stewart finally said. “In all the books I’ve read, there was nothing to suggest this was a pre-existing virus. The fact that it jumped so effortlessly from animal to human proves that.”
“But that’s not so rare, is it?” Teagan asked. “AIDS, Ebola, and SARS all originated in animals, didn’t they?”
“They did, indeed. There’s even some types of influenza viruses that can be transmitted back and forth between animals and humans,” Stewart said. “But even the worst of those viruses took time to reach epidemic levels. The infection we’re dealing with now overran the world in days.”
“So--” Teagan started to say.
“I don’t think this infection was caused by anything man-made,” Stewart said, cutting her off.
“I thought it was made in military labs?” Teagan asked.
“That’s what the experts said at first,” Kimberly said as she joined the conversation. “But when all the animals got infected, they assumed it came from nature.”
A debate broke out on the bus about whether the virus was man-made or can from nature.
“No!” Stewart finally shouted out as he stood. “None of those theories are correct. When I said it wasn’t man-made, I meant that it didn’t originate on Earth.”
“Aw shit,” Murphy uttered from behind the steering wheel. “Here we go.”
“Wh-What do you mean?” Riker asked.
“I mean that this virus was created by visitors to our planet who want to wipe out all life and take the Earth for themselves,” Stewart blurted out.
The bus fell silent.
“I know how that sounds,” Stewart said, “but it’s the only theory that makes sense.”
“Occam’s razor tells us that the simplest explanation is often the correct one,” Kimberly said. “A virus either man-made or that came from nature is a much more simple and believable explanation.”
“Well, Occam didn’t live in the twenty-first century,” Stewart said. “Back in the 1950s, an alien ship crashed into the ocean,” explained Stewart before anyone could say anything else. “Twenty
years later, part of that craft was salvaged from the ocean floor.
“Some of the crew on the salvage ship described the craft in detail, and I realized, through other things I’ve read, that the craft they recovered was described by hundreds of UFO eyewitnesses from all over the world back.”
Stewart looked around at the others. “Before the craft crashed, it circled the globe on what I assume was some kind of recon mission. People from all over the U.S., China, Australia, and every country in-between said they saw the exact same UFO. All their descriptions were exactly the same, and they all fit the description of the salvaged craft.”
“Okay,” Kimberly said. “Let’s say all those people around the world did see the same UFO. Where does the virus fit into all this?”
“I would frequent many forums and chat rooms on the dark web,” Stewart continued. “A few of them were frequented by ex-intelligence agents. From their guidance, I uncovered evidence of a secret organization that’s been around since the late 1970s.”
Hector rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat. “Please don’t tell me the Illuminati is behind all this?”
“There is no such thing as the Illuminati,” Stewart answered. “The Illuminati was used as one of many cover stories to keep the real organization hidden. Secret societies like The Freemasons and the Skull and Bones exist, but they’re nothing more than glorified fraternities for men who want to feel important. The organization I uncovered perpetuated the myths about the nefarious doings of other organizations in order to use them as a cover.”
“So what is this secret organization?” Riker asked with no traces of sarcasm.
“They call themselves The Council of 36,” Stewart said. “Not much is known about them and I never found out who the members were.”
“I assume that the thirty-six refers to the number of members?” Emily asked.
“That’s what I first thought,” Stewart said. “But a document I uncovered mentioned that The Council formed in 1979.”
The others looked at each other in confusion.
“So?” Teagan asked.
“So, the number thirty-six refers to the passing years. What’s 1979 plus thirty-six?” Stewart asked rhetorically. “2015.”
“I’m sorry,” Riker said, “but I’m not making the connection.”
“Nothing about The Council existed until around 1979,” Stewart explained. “I couldn’t find one mention of The Council before 1979, and believe me, I tried. The Council of 36 isn’t about controlling the wealth of the world or about ushering in a one-world government. The only information I could find about The Council had to do with the threat of a hostile alien presence.
“The Council formed in 1979 because they knew, thirty-six years from 1979, something big was going to happen to the world. Something unstoppable.”
“Wait a second,” Kimberly interrupted. “I don’t mean to pick apart your theory--”
“Yes, you do,” said Stewart as he cut her off and winked at her.
“But,” Kimberly continued, “the outbreak happened over two years ago.”
“I already thought of that,” Stewart said. “I don’t think the initial outbreak and everything that’s happened over the last two years was what The Council was worried about. Something big is going to happen this year, in 2015, and whatever it is, The Council is ready.”
“How are they ready?” asked Teagan. “Do you think they have a cure?”
“No. There is no cure,” Stewart said bluntly and somberly. “But I think The Council of 36 made a deal with the aliens to save their own asses.”
“That’s a pretty far leap,” Kimberly said. “Besides--there’s always been conspiracy theories circulating about some kind of agreement between the government and an alien race. Like they give us some advanced technology and the government allows them to abduct a certain amount of people a year.”
“That’s all bullshit and cleverly disseminated disinformation to take attention away from The Council,” Stewart said.
“So what’s going to happen in 2015 that’s going to make the last two-and-a-half years look like a warm up?” Riker asked.
“I don’t know exactly,” Stewart said, “but I think the aliens are planning on exterminating human life.”
“So why not forcefully do so?” Teagan asked. “It’s not unreasonable to think they have some kind of advanced weapon that could destroy Earth in minutes.”
“But they want the Earth,” Stewart explained. “They just want it without any human life.”
“So if this is the year they finish their mission,” Riker asked, “what are they going to use that they haven’t already used against us?”
“I think we just met them,” Stewart said. “Whatever is coming out of those cocoons is the endgame.”
3
I-71, West
10 Miles Outside Austin, Texas
The man walked along I-71 as he traveled northwest. Something drew him in that direction and he followed that urge.
A faint voice in the back of his head shouted that he should check on his wife and kids, but the pull to the West was just too strong. He faintly remembered his wife and kids. The image of them in his mind was like a Polaroid picture that was left out in the sun for too long. The images were there, but they were quickly fading away.
As he’d left the Driskill Hotel back in Austin, he was at first intimidated by the yellow-eyed creatures all around him. There were so many of them that at times he could barely walk down the street. He’d soon noticed, though, that wherever he walked, the creatures moved away. It was like he’d had a five-foot protective radius around him that’d pushed the creatures out of his path, but he could tell by their movements that they hadn’t been pushed away by some invisible force.
They’d moved out of his way.
As he’d walked down Sixth Street, he’d felt powerful. Not just powerful from the way the creatures avoided him, but he’d felt something coursing through his body he’d never felt before. If he concentrated enough, he’d feel his blood as it coursed through his veins, the rhythm of his heartbeat, and even the electrical impulses that’d fired in his brain. He’d had complete control over all his bodily functions that’d usually been done unconsciously. If he’d wanted, he could’ve stopped his heart and slowed the rate of his blood flow through his body.
How can I do these things? he’d thought.
Why can I do these things?
At night, he’d slept on park benches or in abandoned cars—or, if he was lucky, in beds from nearby homes. He’d never had to worry about the creatures around him. Even as he’d slept, they’d stayed away from him. A few had gotten curious at times and had ventured close to him, but it’d always ended the same
The creatures would run off in pain.
The man was never sure how he’d hurt those few creatures. One time as he’d slept, a yellow-eyed creature had gotten close to him. He’d remained on the park bench and had let the thing think he was asleep. He’d focused all his concentration inwards and had tried to locate how his body was defending itself against the creatures. There’d been a spark behind his eyes, and when he’d opened them, the creature had been gone.
The man continued his trek westward.
It had to have been that beam of light that hit me in the hotel room, he reasoned. That was the only odd thing that happened to me.
He remembered that, at some time in his past, a creature had bitten him. As he’d explored his body, he couldn’t find so much as a scar. He’d even forgotten where the bite mark was.
It had to be that beam of light, he repeated.
The man continued his trek westward.
After a few days of walking, he realized he hadn’t eaten in days. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything. But his stomach always felt full.
No, he thought. My stomach always feels warm. A moment didn’t pass when he didn’t feel a soothing warmth throughout his body. No matter the time of day, his body always felt the same
. At the height of a hot one-hundred degree day, when the sun cooked everything beneath its rays, he felt the warmth inside himself. No matter if it was damp and rainy outside, he felt that warmth.
A few days into his journey westward, things got even stranger.
One morning, as he left the house he’d used for the night, he stepped outside and felt that something had changed. There were no more yellow-eyed creatures walking around. Instead, all around were human-sized cocoon-like things. Everywhere he looked, the cocoons littered the landscape.
The pods were oval and had a gray metallic color. He approached one and held his hand out. He could feel the warmth that emanated from it and immediately sensed the life that was being altered inside. As his hand got closer to the cocoon, the strange pod began to wither. If he held his hand there too long, the cocoon shriveled up and the thick fluid inside squirted out.
A part of him recognized these cocoons, but as he searched through his memories, nothing concrete ever formed. The only thing he knew for certain was that, inside those pods, the yellow-eyed creatures were being transformed into something new.
The cocoons were all along the interstate, inside abandoned cars, on the road, in the nearby woods. At first, he tried to walk clear of them. Some instinct, some primal voice in his head, warned him the cocoons were dangerous and deadly. But he soon learned that he had the same effect on the cocoons as he did on the yellow-eyed creatures.
If the man walked too close to the pods, they would shrivel up and die. In seconds of getting close to one of those things, it reacted as if it were being dehydrated. The healthy-looking, moist cocoons soon dried out as the life inside was extinguished.
He turned this into a game. As he walked along I-71, he would test the limits of his range. He also took a perverse joy as he watched the sacs dry up and die. As the fluid was forcibly expelled from the cocoon, he felt like he had done something good. He couldn’t explain it, and he knew he should be afraid of the cocoons, but his desire to destroy them overpowered his fear.
