AntiBio 2: The Control War

by Jake Bible

  “What if they ate it a while back?” Hoagie asks. “You said this place doesn’t get used much. Those things could have been here a long time already.”

  “Yeah,” Jude says and shrugs. “They could have. No way to know.”

  There’s a loud scraping sound from far off in the bunker. The bug hounds growl low, but none of them move from their positions on the radio room floor.

  “Vermin or cooties?” Hoagie says with a sour laugh. “That’s the new game we get to play.”

  “How’s it coming with the radio?” Milo asks.

  “I have power and our signal is getting out, but I can’t get a response,” Jude says.

  “Something blocking the transmission?” Milo asks.

  “No,” Jude says. “Just no one is answering.”

  “How many bases are there in range?” Hoagie asks.

  “At least three,” Jude says. “Five if conditions are good.”

  “Conditions?” Hoagie asks. “When are conditions good in the Sicklands?”

  Jude ignores him and keeps working at the controls. He turns a dial as far to the right as it will go then slowly brings it back to the left. After a minute of straight static, there’s a quiet burst of voices.

  “There,” Milo nearly shouts. “You hear that?”

  “Yeah,” Jude says. “But I can’t lock on.”

  “Just keep going back and forth,” Milo says. “Get as close to the frequency as you can then start transmitting. Maybe their receiver is stronger than ours and they’ll hear us.”

  “Bunker Thirteen calling all available bases,” Jude says into the mic jutting out from the control panel. “This is Bunker Thirteen calling all available bases. If you can read me, please respond. This is Bunker Thirteen calling—”

  “…read…thirteen…” a far off voice replies. “…position…escape…do not…”

  “Hello? I can’t make out what you are saying,” Jude replies. “This is Bunker Thirteen. Please repeat.”

  “…siege…hold off,” the voice says. “…breached…cooties…coordinated attack…”

  “Did she just say the cooties coordinated an attack?” Hoagie asks.

  “Shush,” Milo snaps.

  “Please repeat,” Jude says. “Who am I talking to? Which base have I reached?”

  “…Lawrence…gold base…” the voice says, the signal trailing in and out. “…last operators…maybe minutes…run…trapped…not get…run…”

  There’s a scream and then a squelch of interference.

  “Signal’s gone,” Jude says, leaning back from the console. “That was Gold Base. We just lost Gold Base.”

  “She said her name was Lawrence? Who was she?” Milo asks.

  Jude turns and looks at the operators, tears welling in his eyes. Milo quickly realizes he’s dealing with an adolescent boy, not a hard as nails, trained operator. It has been easy for him to forget that.

  “She was the GenWrecks’ CO,” Jude says. “Gold Base was our headquarters. We’re technically split into independent squads, like Coffin Squad, but we all report to Gold Base so we know where we stand. If Gold is gone then we are fucked.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying all along,” Hoagie says. “Fucked.”

  There’s another loud scraping sound followed by several bangs and a massive crash. This time the bug hounds all get to their feet, ears pricked up and eyes locked on the radio room door.

  “Shit,” Milo says. “I think company just let itself in.”

  The bug hounds’ heads turn from the door and look up at the ceiling as the sound of clicking and clacking skitters by. It is the distinct sound of claws or toenails on metal.

  “I sure hope the ceiling is reinforced,” Hoagie whispers.

  “It is,” Jude whispers back. “I think.”

  Milo and Hoagie look from the door to the ceiling then at each other.

  “We can’t stay,” Milo says.

  “I know,” Hoagie replies.

  “We wait to see what shakes out?” Milo asks.

  “Use whatever is about to happen to cover our escape?” Hoagie asks back.

  “You up to moving?” Milo asks.

  “No,” Hoagie says. “But I don’t have a choice.” He looks around the room then focuses on the chair Jude is sitting in. “Get up, kid.”

  “What? Why?” Jude asks.

  “Gonna need that chair,” Hoagie says.

  “Why?” Jude asks, not moving.

  “It has wheels,” Hoagie says. “It moves better than I do.”

  “Hook up the dogs?” Milo asks.

  “That’s my thought,” Hoagie says.

  “And if we get out? Then what?” Milo asks. “It’s not going to roll across the Sicklands.”

  “Let’s just get outside alive first,” Hoagie says. “We’ll figure out the rest later. It’s not like you’re Mr. Moveable either.”

  “My wound is fine,” Milo says. “Hurts, but it’s closed up enough that I can run if I need to.”

  “Which means you’ll probably tear something and end up bleeding internally,” Hoagie says. “Ain’t we a fucking pair.”

  Milo shrugs, Hoagie shrugs back, they both smile.

  “And people say GenWrecks are the crazy ones,” Jude sighs then stands up and holds out his hand. “I want a static gun. One of you can take my rifle.”

  “Now, why in the hell would I trade a perfectly good static gun for your old Horstein LK-92?” Hoagie chuckles.

  “Because if you die, I’ll have a better chance at living with a static gun in my hand than my old Horstein,” Jude says.

  The matter of fact tone wipes the smile off Hoagie’s face.

  “Shit,” Hoagie says as he looks over at the door again. “Just…shit.” He snaps his rifle back into a baton and hands it over to Jude. “You know how to use one of these, kid?”

  “Not really,” Jude replies, taking the baton.

  “We’ll show you,” Milo says, sighing as he steps over and takes Jude’s hand in his. “Just repeat my motions. It’s the direction and force of the snaps that turns it into the weapon you need.”

  While Milo shows Jude how to work his new weapon, Hoagie picks up Jude’s old rifle and inspects it.

  “Huh,” he mumbles. “This thing feels like it can pack a punch.”

  The bug hounds’ growls get louder and louder and their hackles stand straight up.

  “Gonna need a punch,” Hoagie says as he checks the rifle’s ammo level then pushes himself up and stumbles to the radio console. “Move, kid. I need to get strapped in and ready to roll.”

  10

  “Aft weapons ready,” Blaze says.

  “Port side ready,” Collette says.

  “Starboard side ready,” Marco says.

  “Fore weapons ready,” Red says.

  “Looks like we’re just hanging in the middle,” Paulo says to Jersey.

  “Speak for yourself,” Jersey says. “Give me a gun and I’ll fight.”

  “Hatches stay sealed,” Ton says. “None of us are leaving this transport.”

  “Keep weapons aimed at the cooties,” Red says. “Make it obvious. Let the other transports know we are not gunning for them. If they are on a capture and contain mission then they’ll engage with the cooties for sure first then deal with us. Hopefully we’ll be long gone by then.”

  “They’ll chase,” Blaze says.

  “They can try,” Nick says, his hands jammed into the transport’s control ports, ready to take off as soon as Red gives the word. “But they really are out of their element.”

  “You guys don’t have much faith in GenSOF, do you?” Paulo laughs and holds up a hand. “Not blaming you. We haven’t seen the shit like you have.”

  “You’ve seen shit, just different shit,” Red replies. “We know that when it counts you can throw down. No doubts there.”

  “Contact in thirty seconds,” Worm announces. “Detecting activation of GenSOF transports’ weapons systems.”

  “Aimed at us
or the cooties?” Ton asks.

  “Two of the three are targeting the cooties,” Worm replies. “One is covering our transport.”

  “Good plan,” Ton says. “I’d do the same thing.”

  “Twenty seconds,” Worm says.

  All eyes turn to Blaze’s view screen and the cooties coming at the rear of the transport.

  “Is it me or does that look like more than fifty?” Paulo asks.

  “A lot more than fifty,” Blaze says. “Worm?”

  “They somehow were able to disguise their true numbers,” Worm responds. “New estimation is closer to one hundred.”

  “Double?” Red snaps. “That’s not good news.”

  “Ten seconds,” Worm says.

  “They’ve got bug hounds in with them,” Blaze says. “A lot of bug hounds. Shit, look at the things.”

  “Five seconds,” Worm says.

  “Weapons hot, people,” Red orders. “Ready? Fire!”

  The operators unload, sending static canon fire at the cooties, tearing into the front ranks with a ferocity that sends body parts flying this way and that across the barren ground. But it doesn’t stop the horde of cooties and in seconds the transport is surrounded and under siege as the men and women of the Sicklands attack with equal ferocity. They slam clubs and rocks against the hull of the transport and the echoes inside are like gunshots.

  “How long can we hold against this?” Jersey asks.

  “Their weapons are primitive and basically ineffective against the metal alloy of this transport’s hull,” Worm responds.

  The transport shudders and starts to rock.

  “Worm?” Jersey cries.

  “But, with the right leverage they could flip us over,” Worm says. “That would be unfortunate.”

  “Static charge the hull,” Red orders. “Burn them off, Worm.”

  There’s a loud hum and Jersey watches as the hair on her arms stands straight up. Screams can be heard from outside as close to 50,000 volts shoots out from the transport’s hull, shocking and singeing anyone physically touching the vehicle.

  The rocking stops but is replaced by a hard lurch to the left as a hole is punched through the horde of cooties.

  “Cannon fire,” worm announces. “One of the transports has engaged the cooties.”

  “That shot was a little too close for comfort,” Ton says. “They better watch their— Shit!”

  Everyone hangs on as the transport lurches again from an even closer cannon blast.

  “Nick, I think it’s time,” Red says. “Those bastards are going to end up hitting us before the cooties get to them.”

  “Got it,” Nick says and hits the accelerator.

  The transport jumps forward, crushing a half dozen cooties under its wheels as it turns towards the open space of the Sicklands and away from the road carved into the landscape.

  A cannon blast slams into the earth directly in front of the transport, but Nick doesn’t take the bait. Instead of braking, he speeds up, flooring the accelerator.

  “The cooties have reached the other transports,” Worm announces. “Two are engaged, but one has pushed through and is pursuing us.”

  “Let it pursue,” Nick grins. “One I can handle.”

  The transport shakes as a cannon blast nearly takes out one of the rear wheels.

  “You were saying?” Jersey snorts.

  “Everyone shut up,” Nick says. “I got this.”

  11

  Hoagie has leads strapped around his torso, cinching him to the rolling chair as two of the GenSOF bug hounds, Munch and Gorge, pull him down the hallway of the bunker. The rifle is to his shoulder and he sights down the barrel, ready for whatever decides to come at them, whether it be cooties, sick mutts, or vermin.

  Hoagie really hopes it’s not vermin. The sounds of their clacking claws up inside the ceiling has him thoroughly creeped out and he’d rather skip the introduction to their kind. Cooties and sick mutts are bad enough.

  “Snorts. Point,” Milo says as he follows behind Hoagie, his static rifle at his shoulder. The bug hound moves out from the group and hurries forward, taking point, ready to alert them to the first threat.

  “You okay back there, kid?” Milo asks.

  “Fine,” Jude says from a couple feet back, turning in a constant circle, making sure they don’t get attacked from the rear. “Getting dizzy though.”

  Milo looks back and laughs. “Walk sideways, rifle aimed back, but shoulder and feet leading. You can keep an eye on things that way without tripping and falling on your ass.”

  Jude adjusts his position and smiles at the easier way of moving. “Thanks. Marco usually covers the rear in Coffin Squad.”

  Snorts lets out a quiet bark and stops at the end of the hallway. Tequila, Ajax, and Zeus quickly catch up and stand a couple feet behind, waiting.

  Then they come.

  The bunker door slides open and the cooties and sick mutts burst into the hallway.

  The bug hounds leap back and to the side, letting some cooties get by before they attack. They tear into the legs of the cooties, dropping several, sending them down to the floor so the others are quickly tripped up.

  “Aim high!” Milo yells at Jude. “Don’t hit our dogs!”

  “Yeah, I know that much!” Jude yells back as he opens fire with the static rifle. His eyes go wide at the force of the blasts then narrow with pure joy at the feeling of the weapon in his hands. “Fuck yeah!”

  Milo opens fire as well, ripping into the heads of the cooties that storm the hallway. The smell of static electricity and scorched flesh quickly permeates everything, filling Milo’s nostrils, driving him on as his training gives over to his natural primal instinct for survival.

  “That’s for Belly!” Hoagie yells as he fires into a cootie’s chest, shredding bone and muscle. “And that’s for Belly! And that! And that!”

  Hoagie channels his grief for his lost bug hound into his attacks, making sure every shot is a kill shot, yet causes as much pain and damage before the cooties can succumb. His rifle clicks empty and he quickly reloads, his eyes locked onto the attacking bastards of the Sicklands.

  The bug hounds regroup, packing together so they can strike fast and then retreat into defensive positions. Tequila rips out the hamstring of a cootie and drags the woman down as Ajax goes for her throat, sending blood spraying into the air. The two bug hounds coordinate a second attack, disemboweling a howling man that tries to brain Zeus as that bug hound tears into the crotch of a cootie brandishing a sharpened hunk of metal.

  The sick mutts get free of the pack and rush Milo, Jude, and Hoagie. Munch and Gorge stand their ground, their front legs bowed and locked in position, ready for the impact. The sick mutts are heavier, more muscular, with longer snouts and larger teeth, but the size difference doesn’t matter to the GenSOF bug hounds. They are trained canine units, prepared to take on anything and everything that dares come at them.

  The impact of fur and teeth is almost deafening.

  Hoagie quickly unhooks the leads from the bug hounds, freeing them from the chair so they have more freedom of movement. He tries to get a bead on one of the sick mutts, but all the canines move too fast, a blur of black and matted fur.

  “Hoag! Look out!” Milo yells as he fires over Hoagie’s head.

  Hoagie ducks to the side as a club comes down at him. He deflects the blow with his rifle, slides the weapon up towards the cootie, spins it around, and fires, ripping the attacker’s head right off. Brain and hair splatter up against the ceiling then start dripping down onto Hoagie.

  “Fuck,” Hoagie snarls. “Gross. I got cootie on me.”

  He looks up at the ceiling, and gore still dripping, and his jaw goes slack.

  “Oh…fuck me,” Hoagie mutters.

  “Head in the game, operator!” Milo yells.

  “Look up!” Hoagie yells back.

  “No time!”

  “Make time!”

  Milo fires three blasts at the cooties then risks a se
cond to glance up at the ceiling. He almost wishes he hadn’t.

  “What the hell?” Milo says.

  Peering down from a good-sized hole in the ceiling are dozens of eyes. And teeth. A lot of teeth.

  There are several sharp hisses as long tongues dart from twisted mouths and lap at the blood and brains splattered against the ceiling. Then the owners of the tongues drop into the hallway and both Milo and Hoagie almost forget to keep fighting.

  “I don’t believe it,” Hoagie says as he shakes off the shock and puts his rifle to his shoulder.

  He takes aim and is about to fire when Jude shouts, “Stop! Don’t engage! Do not engage!”

  Hoagie’s finger closes around the trigger then backs off as the vermin go for the cooties and sick mutts, leaving Jude and the operators alone. The things look like bloated crosses between large rats, very large cockroaches, and hairy spiders with lizard heads.

  “We aren’t a threat yet,” Jude says as he comes up next to Hoagie.

  “Yet?” Hoagie asks.

  “Yet,” Jude nods. “Take careful shots and hit only cooties. If you hit one of the vermin then they’ll come for us faster than we can retaliate.”

  “Fucking great,” Hoagie says.

  “Is there another way out?” Milo asks. “Tell me there’s a back door.”

  “If there was we would have used it already,” Hoagie says.

  “There’s a back door,” Jude says, but his tone of voice suggests it is not ideal.

  “There is? Shit, kid, why didn’t you say so?” Hoagie asks.

  “It won’t be easy to get to,” Jude says.

  “Easier to get to than the front door,” Milo says.

  “Not so much,” Jude says. He points up at the ceiling. “We have to go up.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Hoagie groans.

  “Gonna be hard with the dogs!” Milo shouts as his rifle obliterates three cootie heads.

  “I know a way,” Jude says. “We have to go back.”

  “Of course we do. To fuck with this chair,” Hoagie says as he lurches up from his chair. He cries out in pain, slams his fist against his wounded legs, then turns to Milo and Jude, a maniacal look on his face. “What the fuck are we waiting for? Let’s fucking go!”