by M. K. Dawn
“Sounds easy enough,” Cale said.
“Yes, yes.” The scientist didn’t seem to catch Cale’s sarcasm. “Your helmet is equipped with voice activation controls. Once outside, you only need to ask for the video camera to be turned on and it will be. To speak with The Bunker, ask for operations.”
“What about the samples we’re to collect?” Archer asked.
“On your equipment belt, in the pouch, are a dozen small test tubes along with a few other necessities and a first-aid kit.”
“How will you know which sample is from where?” Martinez asked.
The scientist beamed. “Good question, Captain. Each test tube is numbered. When you collect a sample direct your camera—which has built-in GPS—at the test tube so we can capture the number. Then with the video we can align the samples with their locations. Now, let’s get you men ready.”
The hazmat suits were simplistic—so much so it turned Archer’s stomach. They were about to enter a world in which the entire infrastructure had been turned upside down by an alien object and the only thing that protected them from the unknown was a layer of thin fabric.
“They might not look like much, but they are the highest grade of bio-hazard suits available.”
Archer tapped the side of his head, indicating his men made sure their communications worked. He contacted them one by one, as a group and to operations without any issues. “Soldiers: check your gear and oxygen level of the person next to you.”
The scientist gave Archer a thumbs up and nodded.
Archer returned the gesture and the room was cleared. “Operations: we’re a go.”
“Okay, Colonel. The doors are being sealed now. When the light turns green you’re can release the hatch.”
***
It was a fifty foot hike up the rusty metal ladder leading to the surface. Archer had gone up the wobbly stairs first, followed by Jones, Martinez, and Cale. Calmness had settled over the group as he’d expected— they were all damn good at their jobs—but it was a calm he almost wished wasn’t there. They should be on edge if only just a bit. This wasn’t a typical mission and as much as they’d prepared, there was still so much that was unknown.
“Soldiers,” he said to open coms with his men. “Ready?”
“Yes, sir,” they echoed back.
“Operations.” Archer twisted the handle and the hatch released with a hiss. “Manhole open. We a go to breach the surface?”
“It’s a go.” Steven Wu’s voice resonated in his ear. “Once on the top, give us our eyes.”
“Rodger that.” Archer flipped free the hatch and climbed out of the dingy hole. The glare of the sun hit his eyes with such force it nearly knocked him to his knees. It had been a year since he’d felt the heat of daylight; the hazmat suit did little to block the sun’s blaze.
He stood there blinded for longer than expected, his eyes having trouble adjusting to the foreign light. The others came up beside him and each voiced their frustrations.
“Everything okay, Archer?” Wu asked.
“Just getting our bearings.”
Wu paused for a moment and mummers whispered through the connection. “If you and your men could turn on the cameras…need your eyes down here.”
We could all use our eyes, jackass, Archer thought, but passed along the order. “Cameras on, men.”
“Thanks, man. We have visual.”
“Damn,” Cale said. “Look at that.”
Archer eased his sensitive eyes open, allowing them to acclimate to the natural light. “What the hell?” was all he could think to say when he took in the view before them. He didn’t exactly know what he’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it.
Everything appeared as it should be. The trees—unscathed—swayed in the breeze. The sun still illuminated the sky with all its glory. The mountaintops hinted at a recent, but subtle snowfall which was not unusual for early September. This was not the sight of a world destroyed; it was a world untouched by man.
“Colonel,” operations said. “Is there a problem?”
Archer eyed his men, who all wore the same confused look as he did. “No problem. We’re heading out.” He turned off the coms to headquarters and addressed his men. “It’s not what we expected.”
Cale shuffled around to face him. “We were told an asteroid hit the earth. People couldn’t survive on the surface. My question is why the hell not?”
“My monitor is detecting toxins in the air,” Martinez added. “If it didn’t hit close to here, there could still be an issue with the atmosphere.”
“Then why the hell are we here?” Cale said as he threw his hands into the air. “I thought the whole purpose was because the world was close to being habitable again.”
“This isn’t the time or place for this discussion,” Archer said. “Let’s collect the samples and get the hell back underground. Jones and Cale, take the mountain. Water, rocks, dirt, plants—anything you find along those lines. Martinez, you’re with me. We’ll do the same on ground level.”
“What’s our ETA?” Cale asked.
“Air tanks will last about two hours. You’re not scaling the mountain. Short hike up, get what we need, and get your asses back down.”
Cale slapped Jones on the back. “Get moving, kid.”
Archer turned to Martinez. “There’s a spring due east—quarter of a mile at best. I’ll grab that and some soil along the way. Take plants and rocks.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Holler if you need anything.” As Archer trudged through the unkempt grass and rocky terrain, he kept an eye out for the unusual; discoloration, radiating steam, isolated areas devoid of vegetation—anything out of the norm.
He found nothing. To his unscientific eye, all looked as it should. The samples he collected were nothing special. A few scoops of dirt from various locations and three test tubes of water. Maybe this mission should have included a couple of scientists. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Probably because he believed they were entering a wasteland, not the picturesque scene that lay before him.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Martinez’s voice exploded in his ear. “Colonel, need you to take a look at something. On the double.”
Archer fumbled with his wristband through the damn suit until he could turn on the tracking device. “Martinez, Luis.” The screen beeped with his location. “Be there in five, Martinez.”
Archer raced through the unforgiving landscape, eyes sweeping the ground, breathing deep and steady. It took him less than five minutes to find Martinez, who was hovering over what looked to be a dead animal. No. Not animal. Person.
“Sir,” Martinez greeted him without taking his eyes off the man. “He hasn’t been dead for long. Looks like the root pierced his heart.”
A chill swept over Archer’s skin as he took in the gruesome sight. The man’s skin was pale to the point of being translucent. The normal blue-tinted veins looked more like ink running through his body and a black-green sludge leaked out of the gaping wound in his chest. However, it was the man’s face that caused Archer to take a step back. Serrated teeth. Eyes black. Not a single strand of hair on his visible body. His blood-soaked clothing was torn and unruly. “What the hell happened to him?”
Martinez made the sign of the cross. “The toxins in the atmosphere?”
“Doesn’t explain why he’s out here or where he came from. Operations, you seeing this?” The connection crackled but no one spoke. “Operations?”
A branch snapped. They whipped around. Archer’s fingers twitched. “See anything?” He wished he’d pushed harder for a gun.
“Nothing.” Martinez’s voice faltered.
They scanned the sparsely covered country. There weren’t many places to hide.
A flock of birds startled in a nearby tree. Could be a sign of a predator.
Archer’s breaths grew shallow and his whole body was on high alert. It was probably nothing, but the dead man had found himself that way somehow.
He
searched the ground for a makeshift weapon. A large rock or fallen tree branch–
anything he could use to defend himself if it came to that.
Another snap and the crunch of leaves sent his heart racing. Sweat beaded across his forehead. A shadow crept past. He forced himself steady.
Then all hell broke loose.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A scream ripped through Archer’s earpiece. His first instinct was to cover his ears, but the suit made that impossible.
Martinez scrambled to his feet. The noise must have dropped him to his knees. “What the hell was that?”
Archer didn’t bother to answer. “Cale, Jones. Copy? Operations?”
Another scream. A crack. A growl. Then silence.
They scrambled towards the mountain, the fear of their safety long passed.
“Cale, come in. Jones?” Archer fought the urge to rip off the cumbersome suit. He needed to get to his men. He doubted the screams came from ops; that left only Cale and Jones.
He pounded at his wristband. Location was key. They couldn’t go rushing up the mountain without knowing where they were going. “Got them. Half a mile up. Not more than ten feet apart.”
Their boots hammered the ground, but the suits made it difficult to pick up speed.
“Wu?” Archer yelled. The connection crackled.
“All communications down or just The Bunker’s?” Martinez asked.
Archer continued to hoof-it up the mountain. “Don’t know. Cale and Jones aren’t answering.” But that could be for other reasons. Reasons he wasn’t ready to consider.
“How close are we?” Martinez asked.
Archer scanned the rocky scene. “Any minute now.”
“Shouldn’t be hard to spot. Yellow suits and all.”
The one saving grace of the hazmat suits: the damn color. “See anything? Damn trees are in the fucking way.” The locator wasn’t as accurate as it could be. Gave a general location, but it was a problem in situations like these.
“Over there.” Martinez pointed off to the left. “Behind those bushes. That one of them?”
Archer reached Cale first. “Shit.” His suit was ripped open in half a dozen locations. Scratches, bite marks, and blood covered his exposed skin. The worst was on his leg. Whatever did this to him must have nicked an artery. It wasn’t the worst wound he’d ever seen, but if they didn’t get him back to The Bunker ASAP, he was going to bleed out. Archer needed something to make a tourniquet and slow the blood flow; A belt, string—something. If it weren’t for this damn suit, he’d rip the bottom of his shirt and use that. “There’s a small first-aid kit in our pouches.”
“Got it.” Martinez read off the items he saw. “Few Band-Aids, alcohol wipes, duct tape.”
“Tape to seal the tears above the wounds that don’t appear life-threatening. But we’ve got to do something about this artery first.”
“Can you grab his belt through that hole above his stomach?”
Archer reached his hand through the opening in the suit. It was tough, but he was able to remove the belt. He tied it around Cale’s leg just above the wound. “That’ll do for now. Still need to find Jones.”
“He’s close, right?”
Archer glanced at his wristband. “In this general area.”
“I’ll find him.”
Cale stirred as the loss of blood slowed. His eyes fluttered. “Z...”
“Don’t try to speak, man. Got the bleeding under control. I’m going to seal up your suit.” Archer yanked off a piece of duct tape and got to work.
“Z…” Cale sputtered and coughed, splattering his faceplate with blood.
Shit. Cale was worse off than he’d thought. They needed to find Jones and get back to The Bunker now. “Martinez, any luck?”
“God have mercy. He’s dead.”
Archer’s stomach twisted. “You sure?”
“Pretty fucking sure. His neck has been torn out.”
Dammit. Archer pushed away his emotions; couldn’t get too caught up in the tragedy. Not yet. They had to get back under the protection of The Bunker. “Grab him. I’ll get Cale.” He looked down at his friend, who was unconscious again. Probably for the best. Didn’t need him trying to speak anymore.
“Colonel,” Martinez’s voice quivered, “there’s something out here.”
Archer lifted Cale as carefully as possible and heaved the man over his shoulder. “What?”
“I don’t know. Animal maybe? It’s…it’s stalking me.”
“Get your ass down here, soldier! That’s an order!”
“I don’t know where it went,” Martinez said, panic-stricken.
“Luis,” Archer said in the most calming voice he could muster, “focus on the task at hand. One foot in front of other.” Archer scanned the area for the distinctive yellow suit. He couldn’t have gone far. The dense trees of the mountain, unlike that down below, made it hard to find anything. “Where are you, Martinez?”
“Ten yards north.” His voice trembled. “I think it’s following me.”
Archer rotated. Martinez stumbled down the mountain, Jones’ body secured over his shoulder. A soldier motto: never a leave a man behind. “Your back is clear.”
“It’s coming!”
“There’s nothing behind—” Suddenly, a figure darted between two trees. “What the hell?”
Martinez sped by Archer. “Run!”
Archer turned and followed. It was a delicate situation, running with an injured man. In the distance, branches snapped. A rustling picked up behind them. Archer couldn’t tell if it was his suit brushing against the foliage or something different. He didn’t chance a look back. Without a weapon, there was nothing he could do. Instead, he concentrated on the goal. Reach The Bunker. Get inside. Close the hatch.
“I see the hatch!” Martinez yelled.
As did Archer. What he didn’t expect were three guards armed with semi-automatics pointed in their direction. “Colonel,” Russo’s voice came through the coms. “We got your back, sir. Don’t look back. Keep moving. Fast as you can. They’re gaining ground.”
They picked up the pace fueled by nothing more than pure adrenaline. He’d known since the mountain that something was stalking them. By the look of those guns, it wasn’t kittens.
Martinez stumbled. His knee hit the ground with a crunch. “Argh!” Jones’ body dropped from his grip.
“Martinez!” Archer slid to a stop. The rumble behind them grew closer and he forced himself not to look back. He didn’t need his fear to get any worse. “Can you get up?”
“Colonel, we’re sending back-up. Get the hell out of there!”
Martinez fell to his back, hands gripped firmly around his knee. “Think I shattered it.”
“Hold on to my shoulder. I’ll help you up.”
He shoved away Archer’s outstretched hand. “They’re coming. Get Cale back to The Bunker.”
Archer hesitated, unsure which ‘they’ he meant.
“Run, soldier. That’s an order!”
Martinez’s command jogged something inside of him. He was no longer their commander but a low-ranking soldier ready to take orders. Instinct took over. Archer rose and sprinted towards The Bunker in one fluid motion. He pushed everything else aside. Two soldiers flew past him, guns ablaze. Rounds of ammunition were discharged.
He reached the hatch seconds later. One soldier remained on guard, gun drawn. “Down! Now! Stretcher’s waiting.”
“The others?” Archer tried to glance back. He wanted to know what was going on.
The soldier seized his helmet, “I said down!” and shoved him down the hole.
It took all the strength Archer had left to grip the rusty bars of the ladder. He nearly pulled his arm out of the socket keeping himself and Cale from plummeting to the unforgiving ground below.
He reached the decompression room, laid Cale on the stretcher, and checked his coms as the room did whatever the hell it was supposed to do. Nothing from the surface.
&n
bsp; “Fuck!” He drove his fists into the steel wall. Two of his men were still out there—one dead, the other caught in the open with a screwed-up knee. Then there was Cale; unconscious, bleeding out, and stuck in this room to decontaminate.
Archer ripped off his suit, tossed it aside and knelt beside his friend.
“Colonel?” The scientist with the plant name he couldn’t remember came up to the window. “It’s Dr. Laurel. We have the surgeons on stand-by. We’ll get you out of there in just a few minutes. How’s Major Cifarelli?”
The little medical training he had was enough to tell him how dire the situation was. Cale’s pulse was weak, his skin pale, breath ragged. “He needs to get the fuck out of here!”
“Decontamination is near completion. Thirty seconds. Minute at the most,” Laurel said.
He may not have that long. It was a thought he refused to say out loud. “Should I take his suit off?”
“The surgeon instructed us to move him as little as possible. They will cut the suit off in the operating room.” Archer’s attention shifted towards the door. Laurel had his face plastered to the small circular window. “There are straps on the stretcher. If you could secure him, that would save us a step.”
“Okay.” It was a useless task; Cale wasn’t going anywhere and a quick trip up the elevator wouldn’t change that. They were trying to get Archer’s mind off the clock. Still, he fastened the straps, careful not to cause further injury.
Just as he finished, the green light went off and Laurel swung open the door. Behind him four large combat nurses charged inside. They lifted Cale off the floor without a word and rushed out of the room.
Archer followed far enough back to stay out of the way but close enough to keep an eye out for any changes. The floor was silent besides the bubble of the hot springs. People lined the hall and stared—eyes wide, mouths hanging open—as they hurried by.
The elevator door was propped open, ready for them to board. It took less than a thirty seconds to climb the three floors to reach the medical ward. The door opened to surgery, not twenty feet from the OR. Thank God the engineers thought to place an elevator on each wing of every floor.
