by J. N. Chaney
Terry tried to rationalize how primitive looking humans could have access to weapons like this but remembered the advanced technology in the underground city. Surely, whoever built such a place was capable of making something as trivial as a gun. If so, perhaps the men standing before him now were their descendants. Maybe they didn’t need to build their own weapons because their ancestors had done it for them.
It seemed the wounds in the animals had indeed been bullet holes. I should be careful.
We need to leave, said Janice.
A twig cracked behind him. He flinched and heard some heavy breathing. He turned, expecting to see one of the tribesmen, thinking he’d been found. Instead, sitting atop a fallen stump, he found a beavermite staring at him with an open mouth.
A sigh of relief overtook him. He edged his way toward a nearby tree and grabbed the branch. Beavermites were harmless, so long as he didn’t eat them. What to do now, though? He could either climb or run. Stay or go.
A soft moan came from under the branch he was holding. He peered down to see another, even smaller beavermite poke its head out of a hole. It held a piece of fruit in its tiny paws. The larger one on the ground behind him made a similar noise, though it was more like a chirp. Terry raised his brow. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, he thought.
A third beavermite appeared, joining the others, tilting its head to look at him. Then another. Suddenly, there were half a dozen of them, chirping and moaning, all of their eyes fixated on him. He let go of the branch and crept away from them. The big one let out a noise like a scream. Crap.
The voice of one of the men shouted. “B’foc bor shoc?”
“Shi Hassirc!”
The beavermites continued to scream. Terry felt a rush in his chest. He looked at the dome, only to see several men emerging from the other side. He counted four of them altogether, but who knew how many others there might be? There could be more inside. Maybe upstairs. What was he going to do?
Run, whispered Janice.
I can’t, he thought. This might be his only chance to talk to these people. He’d spent three years in the wilderness alone. What if he never saw another person for the rest of his life?
The man with the white hair took the weapon and readied it in his arms.
Run, repeated Janice.
Terry took a step back but paused. The man with the white hair scanned the edge of the forest with his violet eyes, finding Terry in the trees at last. The man stared at him, opening his mouth to smile. With a crooked finger, he pointed, calling to the rest.
Run! Screamed Janice for the third and final time.
And finally he obeyed.
******
Ortego Reconstruction Outpost
April 22, 2350
It was the late evening. Despite the excitement of today’s discovery in the Ortego ruins, Mei had told most of her staff, excluding Travis, to head home. Reluctantly, they agreed. From now on, everything else was on hold. They’d work in shifts with the flippies until such a time as Mei saw fit. Bartholomew was the exception, because the board would still want their coils.
“Anything yet?” Mei asked Travis.
“Not really. I’m still extracting data from those servers with Morty and Stan. I’m using Jeff to map the rest of the floor.”
“Keep working. We need as much as we can get from those systems.” Mei had no intention of establishing a long term twenty-four hour schedule, but she also wanted to have something significant to present to the board before her next conference call with Prescott. She took a seat on the table next to Travis. “How many Ortego Disks have we found so far?”
“Thirty-two, by my count,” he answered.
She smiled. “Fantastic.”
“What do you think we’ll get out of them?”
“Hard to say. It could be nothing more than personnel data. Employee history. Backlogs of email with nothing but gossip. A lot of what we’ve uncovered before now has been useless. But…” She raised a brow at him and smiled.
“This time could be different,” he said, grinning back.
“Exactly. There’s no telling what’s down there.”
Travis nodded slowly, turning to the monitor. “Makes you wonder.”
It sure does, she thought. “I need to lie down for a few minutes. Let me know if anything happens.”
“Will do, Doc.”
Mei stood and left, heading to the dirt cab. She opened the door and sat in the passenger’s side, stretching her legs out on the cushions. The rad suit was flexible, but not very comfortable. Still, she found lying in the vehicle to be slightly more tolerable than standing or sitting in the tent.
A light on her visor sparked, indicating a call. She accepted it, but before she could say anything, a deep voice boomed into her helmet. “Mei, this is God. Please respond. I have to talk to you about your personal life choices.”
She snickered. “Sorry, Mister Deity. I have work to do.”
“Don’t make me smite you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you lonely, John?”
“Bored, maybe,” he said. “Why couldn’t you take the day shift?”
“I will after tomorrow. I wanted to stay here until the flippies mapped the rest of the ruins, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
She took a few seconds. “You remember when we were here? The things we saw?”
“Sure I do.”
“We found other things we never expected to find. The same could be true of the lower levels. There could be something special just waiting for us.”
“Okay, but there was also a doomsday device.”
“I know, I know. That’s why I have to be here…to make sure whatever’s there gets handled with absolute care.”
“I get it, believe me,” he said.
“I know you do,” she said softly.
There was a long pause. “On the bright side, Bart says he’s making progress.”
“Good. I have a call to make in two days. If he doesn’t have something to present, we could be in trouble.”
“I wouldn’t worry. Bart’s a smart guy. You got a good team, Mei.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow for a bit,” he said suddenly.
“Where to this time?” she asked, trying not to sound surprised.
“South.”
“The fourth leg of your mission. You’re nearly done.”
“I told you I’m taking some leave afterwards. I’ll stick around here for another month. Central’s already cleared it.”
“You don’t have to, but I certainly won’t object if you—”
A red light blinked in the corner of her visor, followed by a series of long beeps. It was the emergency channel. “Hold on a sec,” said Mei quickly.
“What did you say?” asked John. “I can’t hear you over this beeping thing on my screen—”
John’s voice cut off, replaced with an image in the upper right corner of her screen. It was black at first, but quickly faded into a pair of gloves resting on a metal desk. They were twitching and squeezing, light moans coming from somewhere nearby. The camera, which was attached to someone else’s helmet, tilted as the person struggled to move. There was a monitor nearby, displaying one of the video feeds from the flippies. “Travis,” muttered Mei.
She leapt out of the dirt cab, getting to the tent in time to see one of the flippies emerge from the crater, a box of artifacts in its tentacles.
Mei stepped inside and found Travis hunched over the desk, barely able to move. She lifted him by his chest, trying to see inside his visor. Vomit covered half his screen, sloshing around as she moved him. She gagged at the sight of it.
Grabbing his arm and shoulder, she signaled John. He answered right away.
“What’s going on?” His voice was frantic. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Travis is sick. I’m taking him home.”
“You gonna be able to carry him?”
She lifted Travis over her shoulder. She wasn’t as strong as John, but her genes gave her the strength of a grown man twice her size. “I’ve got him.”
“Should I get the others?” he asked.
“Tell Sophie to grab a med kit and a radiation monitor,” said Mei.
“I’m going right now.”
One of the flippies—Stanley, by the look of it—was outside loading material into the back of the dirt cab. She latched Travis into the passenger side, then hit the gas. The flippy fell off the ramp and landed on its side, attempting to right itself but failing miserably. As Mei sped away from the Ortego worksite, she kept glancing at Travis, yelling his name. He wasn’t moving.
When she arrived at the outpost, John and Sophie were already there, waiting. Zoe and Bartholomew came running out of their designated tents in a wild panic.
Mei brought the cab to a quick and violent stop with the ramp still dragging behind. John opened the passenger door and grabbed Travis, pulling him to the ground. Mei took off her helmet and watched from the other side of the vehicle as Sophie attempted CPR.
What the hell was happening? Was he okay? It was Mei’s job to keep her team safe. Oh, my god, she thought. It’s happening again. I have to—
A sudden pain hit her in the temple, and she wavered. She felt a weakness in her legs, so she grabbed the side of the cab to right herself. Staring at her hand, everything began to blur. What was going on?
“Mei?” John was standing now, watching as she tried to keep her composure. “Are you okay?”
She opened her mouth to say she was fine, but it was too late. Her legs went numb, and she collapsed, kicking up a swirl of dust and knocking the wind from her lungs. In less than a second, John’s arms were around her shoulders. His lips moved, but he wasn’t saying anything. The entire world had gone quiet, and the light quickly faded into dark.
Soon she was alone, drifting in a sea of empty thought, surrounded by nothing.
Chapter 6
Ortego Outpost File Logs
Play Audio File 333
Recorded: April 21, 2350
ROSS: Still no word on how the boy died?
THISTLE: They’re saying it was radiation poisoning.
ROSS: How? I thought Curie’s team had precautions in place.
THISTLE: They did.
ROSS: So what happened?
THISTLE: We aren’t sure. The labs say it could’ve been a breach in the suits, but the chance of it happening to both of them at the same time is pretty low.
ROSS: Maybe we should order them home. Is the girl stable enough to transport?
THISTLE: Lieutenant Finn doesn’t seem to think so.
ROSS: He’s not exactly unbiased.
THISTLE: Maybe not, but he’s trustworthy. He tells me no one else is sick. They might be fine if they stay in the camp.
ROSS: I’m concerned this may get out of hand. The last thing we need is an entire outpost dying of radiation poisoning.
THISTLE: Moving the girl right now could be dangerous, or so I’m told.
ROSS: By whom?
THISTLE: I think his name is Tabata. He arrived there yesterday.
ROSS: For what purpose?
THISTLE: Something to do with an animal they captured there. In addition to being a doctor, he’s also some kind of wildlife expert.
ROSS: Sounds like we’re lucky he arrived when he did.
THISTLE: Yes, ma’am. Should I keep you updated? I’ve ordered Finn to report in daily until this gets resolved. He’s volunteered to stick around if we need him.
ROSS: Keep him there. We could use the extra set of eyes. But as far as the rest of it goes, I trust you to handle things, Captain. All I ask is you let me know if the situation takes a turn for the worse.
THISTLE: Of course, Colonel.
End Audio File
Unknown
April 21, 2350
Terry wanted nothing more than to sleep. Two days running in the wild was almost too much to bear, even for a genetically engineered hybrid.
But he could not rest, not yet. Throughout both nights he could hear the faint rumblings of something in the distance, following him, shuffling through dirt and fallen leaves, spouting nonsense in a language he would never understand. The strangers with the metal barrels on their backs, tracking him like prey.
They aimed to kill him. He was certain of that.
He had considered going to his old home on the cliff, but decided to wait a few more days. If he was lucky, he’d lose them before much longer and finally get a chance to rest. Only when he was certain no one was after him would he make an attempt at returning to the cave.
Twin suns drifted through the morning as heavy clouds passed overhead, darkening the sky with threats of rain. Welcomed threats, since a shower right now might do him some good—not only to dampen his stench, which he could barely stand, but to drown his trail and put an end to this game once and for all.
He waited for a storm to ride in, but despite the hard winds, nothing came until the early evening when both suns were halfway through their descent.
Thunder cackled in the distance. Had he not been running for his life, he might have found it comforting.
Before the day was gone, a soft shower veiled the land, covering as far as the sky could stretch. The water dripped against his skin, waking him from his zombie state.
He tried listening for his pursuers but heard nothing. It was difficult with the rain, but after constantly running for so long, Terry was sure he’d put enough distance between them to make a difference. Maybe now he could finally stop and rest.
Keep going, said the little girl’s voice in the back of his mind. You can’t stop yet. The monsters will get you if you do.
“I need to rest,” he said. Rain drizzled down his cheeks and filled his mouth with the salty taste of his sweat.
It’s dangerous, she told him.
“I have to sleep.”
You’ll die if you do.
“I don’t care.”
He cut through the field and entered a forest, taking refuge under the shade of a larger tree. He collapsed against its trunk, letting out a long and gentle sigh as he closed his eyes.
The rain grew louder over the next several minutes as the storm came into its own. Thick, swollen drops fell through the leaves high above his head, occasionally landing on his chest and legs.
But for most of the night he slept, and there in the dark, closed off from the world, deep in his tattered mind, he heard a voice, saying, “Come and see.”
Terry found himself walking along an empty road, searching for the source. He passed through a wasteland as vast as a continent, moving through ancient and long forgotten cities, belonging only to the dead. Despite this, he continued, always to the east. He went toward the echoing voice, which sounded like a flowing river, flowing rapidly to some unknown end.
“Come and see.”
He walked through stone and mud, until the ground ensnared him, and he could no longer move. He became a statue, frozen and still, waiting, until at last the dirt swelled and expanded, dragging him into itself and burying his body, consuming him entirely. He fell, far and away, deep into the bowels of the earth.
He emerged in a glistening city, standing on the corner of a street, watching as a crowd passed. A familiar woman tugged a child along, their voices garbled, their faces shrouded. They faded before his eyes, disintegrating into dust. Piles of ashes.
Now he stood in a classroom, children all around him. He was a child, too. There was a man with one arm, their teacher. The man smiled with empty eyes. Dead eyes. He opened his mouth, and with a voice identical to the last, he said, “Come and see.”
The world faded, replaced by a cave, dark and cold as the night. But he could still see. He could always see. It was a large room, a place he’d been before, with dusty computers scattered everywhere. No regard for upkeep
. Where were the workers? Why did they leave? Didn’t they care about their work?
There was a pack in the corner. His bag. He’d left it there.
In the back, far removed from the rest of the consoles and their blackened screens, a massive circle stood forgotten, silent as the dead.
Light filled the place, spooling in from nowhere, taking the grime and dust away, making the machines look new again. They glistened, spotless and clean.
He looked at the metal circle standing before him, brilliant and real. It called to him. Not with words but with gravity. With force.
He walked forward and onto the ramp which extended through the center of the object. The metal of the ring trembled and quaked with each step he took.
The circle moved, spinning around repeatedly and with increasing speed. A black pool of liquid appeared. Terry took another step, and the void before him changed. It morphed chaotically, bending and pulling, until finally it came to a stop in the shape of something else. A living, pulsating void.
“Come…” whispered the voice from within.
Amid the darkness, a slit appeared, peeling back to white and then…purple. An iris. An eye.
And it blinked.
Terry stared into it, transfixed, unable to move. “What is this?” he finally asked.
But the eye of the void only answered, “Come and see.”
******
Ortego Reconstruction Outpost
April 22, 2350
Mei opened her eyes to see an old man staring down at her, scratching his cheek. She tried to move but felt a tug on her left arm. It was an I.V.
“Good morning, Doctor Curie. I apologize for intruding on you like this, but it was urgent I speak with you. My name is Christopher Tabata. I’m a physician.”
Mei thought for a minute. She’d heard the name before. But from where? She felt so dizzy. “Where did you come from?”
“Salamander. One of your people sent a letter asking me to take a look at the animal you captured. I replied directly to you several days ago.”
