Reaction

by Seth M. Baker

  “Did you say my name?” Amadeus asked.

  Grassal shook his head. “I heard my name.”

  “No, I, we, must’ve imagined it. Shared hallucinations. Let’s just get this over with.”

  “The faster the better,” Grassal said. “This thing has no idea why it wants to eat us any more than a vulture knows why it wants to eat road kill.”

  Amadeus.

  Ignoring the voice that whispered his name, Amadeus lit the torch and tossed it toward the demon. Flames whooshed over the demon’s face and the demon shrieked, trying to lick the flames with its long black tongue. Again it tried to back out of the door frame, but the sturdy door wouldn’t budge.

  “Fire into the eye socket,” Amadeus said. “If this creature has a brain, then that’s got to be the bull’s eye.”

  Amadeus. The voice had grown urgent. He looked around, half-expecting to see a stranger with a megaphone standing in the hallway, but no one was there. He returned his attention to the task at hand and aimed his shotgun at the demon’s eye. Grassal did the same. They fired. Fwlop! The eye exploded, splattering flaming, gelatinous bits of demon eye into the air. Amadeus felt his skin sizzle as a chunk of burning goo landed on him. His mind flashed to the dissolved bodies in New York and for a moment he thought he was melting, but Grassal patted him down with his shirt and he remained intact. When the flames were extinguished, they were replaced by a searing, throbbing pain that ran from the right side of chest up to his left cheek, like someone had pulled a glowing red rod from a forge and dragged it across his skin. Amadeus sucked air through his teeth.

  “It’s not that bad,” Grassal said, looking him over. Amadeus leaned against a wall and put a finger to his neck; even touching it felt like the sting of a hundred wasps, but at least the skin was intact. All this time the creature bucked in the door frame like a defiant horse. Grassal fired more shots into the demon’s empty eye socket. After two reloads, the creature finally dropped. Its corpse blocked most of the threshold, but there was room for a grown man to squeeze through if they needed to leave.

  Grassal kept his shotgun trained on the creature’s corpse. “Even a snake with its head cut off can still bite.” Amadeus nodded in agreement. “You good?”

  “Never better,” Amadeus said. “But let’s get inside.”

  They headed towards the hangar, but just before they were out of sight of the door, Amadeus heard a scuttling sound. He turned to see a demon the size of a mastiff blotting out the light between the dead demon and the doorframe.

  We are not what you think, Amadeus Brunmeier.

  Grassal raised his shotgun to fire. Amadeus put a hand on the top of Grassal’s shotgun barrel. “No,” Amadeus said. “Did you hear that, too?” Grassal nodded.

  Amadeus squinted, trying to get a better look, but he didn’t dare move any closer. They watched as the demon stood on its hind legs, and put its front legs over its head, forming a semicircle. Silhouetted against the daylight outside, it looked like an upright kettle bell with legs. The voice again spoke:

  Others are coming. I cannot yet stop them.

  With that, the creature dropped back to all fours, turned, and darted out of the door.

  Amadeus stood still as a mountain as he tried to process what he had just seen. He felt Grassal’s hand on his shoulder, pulling him back, and Amadeus allowed himself to be led away. Each step they took echoed through the empty halls. Inside, Grassal fired up the main power system while Amadeus double-checked the rooms, keeping his footsteps as light as possible. He willed himself to forget what he had just seen.

  From the data center, Grassal called out, “some of the hard drives are gone.” Amadeus checked the rooms again; no signs of anyone. Only the panic room remained. Jones had sent Amadeus down there once. Could someone be down there? Jones? Or even better, Lilly? He tried the round handle of the panic room door; it was locked, solid. Amadeus noticed a new keypad had been installed on beside the door frame. The wall still bore a pencil’s leveling marks. Steel shavings littered the floor below.

  “Grassal, I think you were right. There’s a new lock on this door. Think you can hack it? It’s like the one outside.” Grassal came over and examined the lock, nodded to himself, then spoke.

  “It could take a while. But I’ll get it. No problem,” he said before trotting off to fetch some tools.

  Amadeus busied himself in the data center while he waited on Grassal. On the one working computer, he logged onto the virtual private network Grassal had set up to check the news. A headline stood out in brave, bold letters: “Gates Crashing Around the World.” The subtitle read “U.S. President faces calls to see charges against Brunmeier dropped. Times of America reporter Annie Brunmeier, aunt of Amadeus Brunmeier, is simultaneously receiving credit for breaking this dramatic story while defending her nephew.”

  Unable to stop himself, he cried out with joy. He felt like a child who wanted to show off a sterling report card. Of course he owed credit to his friends, but this was because of his work, his initiative, his risks; if he hadn’t done this, who would’ve?

  “You okay, buddy?” Grassal said, yelling from the hangar. Amadeus read the headline and subtitle to Grassal. He cheered as well.

  “We can’t get too excited. We’re not done yet.”

  “I know. There’ll be more demons coming, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  He clicked through more photos from around the world, from Bangkok to Birmingham, New Delhi to New York. The photos showed crowds of people with cordless phones, parabolic antennae, and other clever modifications on his original design. His favorite was the cigarette-smoking old lady in Seattle with her green Tupperware dish and phone. People also held pieces of the gates, thrusting them over their heads like victorious athletes holding sparkling trophies. From outside, Amadeus heard metal slamming against metal. Amadeus went to check on Grassal. When he found him, Grassal was swinging a sledgehammer against the door.

  “Manual override,” Grassal said. He stopped and leaned on the sledgehammer it was a cane. “I needed a break to work out some aggression.”

  “You’re not seriously going to beat the door down like a barbarian? How long, king hacker?” Amadeus said.

  “Got to crack the encryption before I can even start compiling. Um, another thirty hours or so,” Grassal said. “But maybe sooner if it stumbles on the right algorithm.”

  “Jesus, Grassal, I hope you’re joking. This place is going probably to be overrun in the next couple hours. If that demon followed us here, I’m sure something or someone else will too.”

  “I know.”

  “So we need to make it faster,” Amadeus said.

  Grassal nodded. “Make it fast, I can’t argue with that.”

  “Hey, you remember that parallel processing program you wrote?”

  “The one we used to make a Unix supercomputer so we could play ‘Zombie Attack’ with wall-sized resolution?” Grassal said, a smile creeping to his mouth.

  “I’m not sure if you could use it here, some of the computers are trashed…”

  “But not all of them. And I just happen to have the code right here.” He pulled a keychain from his pocket. A pink USB stick dangled from it. “That’s a first-class idea, my friend,” Grassal said, dropping the sledgehammer.

  51

  Amadeus tethered the functioning computers together while Grassal loaded the software. Within twenty minutes, the distributed system was compiling the crack. While the timer ran down, they waited and paced. Grassal told some jokes he had told before. Just after the one about the pirate with a steering wheel on his crotch (“aaargh, it drives me nuts”), Amadeus heard an all-too familiar clicking sound. He cocked his head and shushed Grassal.

  “You hear that?” Amadeus said.

  “It’s nothing. Indigestion.”

  “No, it’s something. Just listen.” Grassal listened. A hint, a suggestion of a howl filtered in again, a distorted sine wave of mirth. “I’ll get the guns,” Amadeus said. “How
long’s left?”

  “Three minutes,” Grassal said, looking at the screen.

  “I’ll go check it out.”

  “Amadeus.”

  “What?” Grassal said nothing. Amadeus raised his eyebrows. “What, man?”

  “Just…be careful. That’s all.”

  “Sure.”

  Amadeus left a shotgun for Grassal then ran down the corridor. When he rounded the corner, where the demon should have been, he saw only darkness. The blood remained, but the demon’s body was gone. Cautious, Amadeus crept towards the door then stepped outside and gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark. Two hundred meters ahead, on the dark land that lay before him, a violent black sea churned. Floating on this sea was a larger black island. The island was the demon they had killed, and the black sea was a writhing carpet of smallish demons, thousands of them, gnawing and rending each other in order to dine on the big demon. The half-eaten corpse of the big demon floated on top of them like a crowd surfer at a rock concert. As a group, Amadeus deduced, they had taken the path of least resistance, moving the corpse down the hill. He wondered why none thought to come inside. Maybe they couldn’t resist the temptations of a delicious meal.

  Trying to keep as still as possible, he inched over to the control panel hit and tried a random combination on the keypad. A polite female voice told him to try again. He tried again. Still unsuccessful. The voice warned him he should check with an administrator. Amadeus mumbled a curse and tried once more. This time, the now-stern voice said the alarm system is being activated.

  “Shit,” Amadeus said. A klaxon began to wail. Amadeus jammed more buttons and watched as a ripple ran through the demon sea. A few at the edges broke away. Not knowing what else to do, Amadeus smashed the control panel with the butt of his rifle. Nothing happened. He gave up and slipped back inside. A couple demons were creeping up the hill. He hoped they hadn’t seen him. He ran back down the corridor, listening for the clicks of claws on concrete.

  The compound was dark and quiet, save for the wailing alarm. Grassal nodded to the computer.

  “I think your little alarm killed the lights, but the crack should be finished soon.”

  “Good. We don’t have much time. You do not want to know what’s outside.”

  “Try me,” Grassal said.

  “If all the gates so far have been one-lane highways, then somebody just opened up a quadruple expressway. It’s a goddamn demon sea out there. Hell has opened a franchise in Colorado.”

  “Goddamn is right,” Grassal said, looking down at his shotgun. He took a deep breath and put his hand on Amadeus’ shoulder. “We’re not leaving here, are we, buddy?”

  “Don’t talk like that. Let’s just get the door open and get inside,” Amadeus said, but he decided to continue, just in case Grassal was right. “Grassal, if we, uh, if we die here, I can’t think of a better man to make a last stand with. You’ve been by my side all my life. I…just want to you know I appreciate it.” Grassal nodded.

  “Are you frightened of dying?”

  “We’ve all got to go sometime,” Amadeus said.

  “That’s what I like about you, you’ve—do you hear that?” Grassal said, freezing like a statue. Amadeus nodded, his eyes shooting to the location of the sound. They stood with their backs to the door. A minute passed, but they heard only silence. When the progress bar read 98%, the scuttling sound started again. Amadeus felt the wound on his leg throb a little. The sound came closer…closer, but still nothing.

  Suddenly, a dog-sized demon charged them from the side. They both opened fire, filling the hangar with loud blasts. Amadeus emptied his shotgun and threw a couple shells in for a quick reload. Grassal fired slower for accuracy; every time he pulled the trigger, the demon staggered. It had an arachnid body but instead of a head it had one big eye and a writhing anemone–like mouth on the front of its torso.

  Though oozing black blood, the creature refused to die. It came closer. Grassal called for cover fire. Amadeus took an extra moment to aim for the eye. He fired.

  The shot tore open the right side of the demon’s mouth. When he was down to one shell, Grassal said “ready.” Amadeus fired again then pulled a handful of shells from his fanny pack. The spider demon finally dropped. The computer beeped.

  “It’s unlocked?” Amadeus asked.

  “Can’t go in yet,” Grassal said. Amadeus narrowed his eyes and shot the dead spider demon again.

  “For fuck’s sake, buddy,” Amadeus said, shaking his finger at Grassal. Grassal furrowed his brow then pointed his gun at Amadeus. “Whoa, hold on now,” Amadeus said. Bang! Amadeus spun around. Another demon staggered towards them. This one walked upright and looked like a skinny plucked chicken. Amadeus fired at the chicken demon as it advanced towards them. Then, from behind it, another emerged. Amadeus looked towards the shadows around the entrance. Hundreds of yellow orbs bobbed and blinked in the darkness like a pestilence of fireflies.

  “Over…fucking…run,” Amadeus said. Beep. Beep.

  “It’s open!” Grassal said. As a group, the demons emerged from the shadows, creeping rather than charging. Amadeus threw down the handle for the door. Something clicked. He pulled on it. The door was heavy. The demons came closer. Amadeus dropped the shotgun and pushed on the door with both hands, making an opening wide enough for both of them to squeeze through. Grassal shoved Amadeus through the opening but just before he slipped inside he shot the control panel on the wall. The sound excited the demons. They charged.

  Amadeus grabbed Grassal’s shirt to pull him inside, but a demon had latched onto Grassal’s calf with his jaws. Grassal screamed. Amadeus stuck a shotgun barrel through the door and shot the demon pointblank in the face. The shot knocked the demon back, but in its jaws was all of Grassal’s leg below the knee. A few stringy tendons hung from his knee like red noodles. Amadeus pulled the door shut, but the latch bolt wouldn’t engage. A metal crossbar was mounted inside the door, upright. Amadeus dropped it across the door.

  The door shuddered as the creatures outside scraped and clawed the exterior, trying to push their way inside. Amadeus knew the crossbar wouldn’t hold for long.

  Amadeus stripped off his shirt and tied it around Grassal’s thigh. Amadeus tried to remember the layout of the same room, but he had only been here once. A long hallway, an elevator, a store room, and a “living area.” Jones had really believed in an impending cataclysm. One man’s paranoia was another’s salvation.

  “Sorry buddy, we need to walk now. Put your arms around me,” Amadeus said. Grassal only continued to scream. “Fine.” Amadeus laid down the shotgun, put his hands under Grassal’s arms, and began to drag him. Amadeus fell backwards then tried again. “I’ll get you down there, don’t worry. Remember what you told me buddy? Amadeus said, straining to pull Grassal’s big body down towards the elevator. “You fall, you get back up again. You remember that? Always get back up. I’ll always get back up.” Grassal’s body stiffened as another scream roared from his mouth, but just as suddenly as it had started, Grassal’s head lolled. Amadeus knew he was losing him to shock.

  “One more time,” Amadeus said. Straining every muscle in his body, he pulled Grassal towards the elevator. Amadeus’ legs burned from exertion, but finally managed to half-carry, half-drag Grassal into the elevator. Amadeus pushed the down button. They both collapsed onto the metal floor as the elevator took them down, down, down.

  *

  At the bottom, the cage opened to a steel door with a handle like a steering wheel, just like the one upstairs. With one hand he turned the wheel, with the other he held his shotgun, ready to face, and possibly murder, Jones. He pushed the door open. The elevator filled with light and the smell of…bananas. “What the…” Amadeus said. Lilly came running towards him, across what looked like a living room. She threw her arms around him then screamed when she saw Grassal laying on the floor, moaning.

  “Is he here? Your father?” Amadeus said.

  “No, he’s gone. I’ve got medic
al supplies here. Let’s get him inside.” Together they dragged him inside. Amadeus’ tourniquet was only somewhat effective; Grassal’s stump still left a trail of blood across the concrete floor. Amadeus put an ottoman beneath Grassal’s leg for elevation. Lilly put a pillow under his head and covered his torso with a blanket.

  “He’s in shock,” Lilly said. Grassal was pale. His lips had a hint of blue. Lilly handed Amadeus a towel and told him to keep pressure on the bloody stump. He did.

  While Lilly gathered the supplies from the storage room, Amadeus examined his surroundings. A large flexscreen covered one wall; another was lined with books. Nearby was a small kitchen and racks stacked with canned food. Air ducts ran along the ceiling. The entire area was a little bigger than two shipping containers placed side-by-side, along with a separate storage room, where Lilly was now, and a tiny bathroom.

  “You’re going to be okay, brother, Lilly’s going to take care of you.” Grassal’s eyes didn’t focus, but his lips were moving as if muttering a silent prayer. Amadeus fought to speak through the tears. “Stay with us, stay with us.”

  Lilly returned. Wearing latex gloves, she set to work on Grassal’s stump. With deft and quick movements, she applied hemostats, made a better tourniquet, doused everything with alcohol and iodine, and finally wrapped the stump in gauze.

  “This is bad,” she said, running a hand over Grassal’s shaggy hair. Grassal was there, but he wasn’t there. “We’ll keep an eye on it, clean it every day. The iodine should prevent gangrene, and if he’s lucky, he’ll live.” Amadeus sat beside Grassal, holding one of his hands in both of his. An hour passed before Lilly spoke again.

  “Now, about you…I hate to sound ungrateful, it’s wonderful to see you…but what took you so long?”

  “You don’t even want to know what’s outside,” Amadeus said.

  “Demons?”

  Amadeus nodded.

  “Then no, I don’t want to know. We can all stay here for now,” Lilly said. “Oh, if my father knew you were here…that bastard locked me in here, said I could stay here a couple years if need be. Years, Amadeus. Years. There’s something wrong with his brain, you know. I think it’s the tumor, pressing against the part that controls his moral compass. I can’t imagine what Ross told him he would do. He probably sang some siren song about curing my father, helping him get out of that chair he loathed so much.” Lilly would’ve continued but Amadeus pressed his finger to her lips.