Molterpocalypse (The Molting Book 3)

by C A Gleason

  Jonah shot a Molter in the head, and it fell back. It had been facing him when the other Molters were focused on the bulk of people at the firing line, and he heard the dreaded sound of a bedsheet tearing. Then he watched as the thing silently exploded, its flesh shredded in flowery and bloody seams, and Infectors erupted upward in filmy sheets of stringy mucus. It wasn’t just incoming Molters they had to deal with.

  Jonah squinted. The earth was crawling. “Infectors!”

  The knowledge of what else was advancing caused a panic among the battle-hardened men. Weapons fired in practically every direction, and men took off running in every direction too. Three fell at the same time with Infectors all over them, then they disappeared under too many to be counted, a moving blanket of black legs. Then, impossibly, things got even worse.

  “Behemoths!” Salgado yelled.

  Based on what was happening on this battlefield, the human race would be finished off before dawn. The large multilegged monstrosities rushed through the crowd of Molters, trampling any of them that got in their way. Behemoths moved in a way that seemed impossible on land, similar to an octopus.

  Even though one of the Behemoths was being fired on, it crashed full force into a howitzer. Then another one did the same thing, knocking over another of the most powerful weapons on the firing line. The desperate and sporadic gunfire ceased like a flame being snuffed out, leaving only darkness behind. There were even Behemoths fighting each other in the distance, which wasn’t a surprise because it was in their nature, and many had seen it before, including Jonah, but it added an unsettling factor to all the chaos.

  The continuous onslaught by the Behemoths and Molters and Infectors suddenly made the howitzers and mortars useless because those who fired the devastating weapons were either killed or forced to abandon their positions. Molters and Behemoths could be spotted when incoming, but a wave of Infectors was practically invisible until they weren’t. Keeping them away would be like shooting at bees in the air with a revolver.

  The war slowly lowered in decibels because there was only some gunfire now or the occasional thump of a mortar shell followed by an explosion in the distance. Even these steadily diminished because there weren’t very many men and women who were still alive to operate the weapon systems.

  Even from a distance, it was obvious why the Behemoths had attacked the firing line. It was where almost everyone was, and the Behemoths had recognized the threat of them, and they were hungry. Jonah and the others watched in horror as Behemoths stabbed anyone who got near them with their stinger-equipped tails, held them in place with their many legs, and drank them. Screaming in pain added to snarling and growling, roars, and dwindling gunfire.

  The battle was now completely out of control. There were many Behemoths in competition with far too many Molters—the very creatures that had lived only to serve them until the new strain emerged—and now every species was doing their best just to survive. With the army of Molters, Behemoths appearing and shattering the offense like battering rams, and Infectors taking down people left and right, they were facing a triple threat of creatures that would soon eradicate all humans from the planet.

  Henry clearly objected to that and decided to kill all the Molters and Infectors himself, and he began firing the SAR from the gunner’s hatch of the UV. He had obviously suspected something like this would happen and had saved the devastating weapon capable of firing 6mm ammunition at fourteen rounds per second for this very moment. It tore through any creature that got remotely near them.

  But then Henry stopped shooting. “Holy . . . We need to get out of here right now!”

  Jonah shot a gaze at what had caught Henry’s attention, and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Someone had launched star clusters, the free-falling pyro and smoke parachutes that lit up the darkness, and now it was much easier to see into the night. In a way, that was unfortunate because it was then that Jonah felt Henry’s sense of panic.

  Jonah had seen and killed enough Molters to spot the subtle differences between the strains. Most Behemoths fought to the death, but then others seemed to avoid confrontation, rogues driven by their own individual instincts. Jonah suspected there were multiple strains of Molters and Behemoths, but their subtle differences were practically imperceptible, and thinking of them as the same would be like thinking that all fish in the ocean were the same. It wasn’t just the creatures’ physicality that was changing; their behavior was, too, and it seemed to be evolving rapidly.

  That was especially apparent because many of the Molters weren’t interested in the humans at all. Instead, they were suddenly focused on taking down the Behemoths. Things had changed that fast. The Behemoths fought back, of course, were probably jarred by the surprise attacks, and used their defunct stingers to stab Molters in the torso or face.

  There were definitely more Infector bombs among the horde, and maybe even Molters that were still capable of birthing Behemoth spores. Infectors were everywhere, and no doubt most of them had come from the green Molters as was their role in this war. Infectors were shot, kicked at, stomped, but when none of that worked, fled from. Many people panicked and ran, but most weren’t upright for long.

  The mini-offensive had held since taking down Frox and his men, but it was getting smaller by the minute and wouldn’t last much longer. It occurred to Jonah that the battle on the hills beyond would decide who would continue to reign on Earth. It was as if the planet was coming undone, and the differentiating factor in all of it was those who could make choices. The Molters relied on pure, brutal instinct, but people possessed an intellect. Well, now was definitely the best time to use it.

  The original strain of Molters had to feed on multiple people in order to cocoon, but the green ones weren’t drones driven to feed a master. Many, or maybe nearly all, of the Molters were of the new strain and independent of Behemoths, which meant it was impossible to know how many they’d killed because Jonah had no idea how many people or other animals a green Molter needed to feed on before it birthed the Infectors growing within it. Did it require a dozen feedings? A hundred? It was likely he was witnessing an army of creatures that were responsible for the slaughter of millions.

  As he watched hell spew forth toward him—and it sounded like hell too—he all too briefly wondered if any of them had been decent before they’d molted. Most likely many of them had been loving and caring mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, husbands, and wives. How many of those people had molted and come back as something else and massacred what had once been their own families?

  The world was ending. That was a fact. The green Molters weren’t the only ones all over a few Behemoths, feeding on them, taking them down to the ground or attempting it; the other kind were too. Without a Behemoth to serve, what purpose did Behemoths have for them? They were useless, which made them the enemy, and the enemy of animals in that way were also often food.

  Jonah’s hope that day in the cave when he first saw a green Molter, that they somehow weren’t deadlier than the others, was for naught. The green ones were an even bigger threat than he’d first realized because they didn’t serve a Behemoth; they were independent of them, and they killed until the Infectors within them matured. Whenever that was. It could be a choice or only happen during one time a year for all Jonah knew.

  The original strain of Molter would no doubt still cocoon if they could survive and the Behemoth they were naturally tethered to still lived. But the green ones were feeding on the Behemoths, so soon, the new strain would likely be dominant.

  What is going on? Jonah thought.

  The battle was so chaotic it was as if a tornado and a tsunami were wrestling for supremacy, and then an earthquake decided to shake things up. Some Behemoths were already dead and being fed upon, but most must have realized their standing with the creatures that once lived to serve them, to feed and then become their food, and that that time was over. All of a sudden, the Behemoths were on their own.

  They roared and stomped t
heir massive, tree-size legs, competing not only for the remaining food that all strains considered a host or a meal, but also for their own survival. But that didn’t mean there weren’t a lot of Molters still very interested in Jonah, Henry, Salgado, and the rest of them.

  Henry climbed out of the gunner’s hatch and leaped down to the ground. “Get back in the vehicles, now!”

  Whoever had been in charge didn’t matter. It was the command everyone, including Frox’s men, wanted to hear. Henry opened both doors and got in the passenger seat of the up-armored UV, his door still open, and thumbed toward the door behind him. Jonah jumped in the back seat, slammed the door as Henry did the same, and saw Salgado step up into the gunner’s hatch.

  Henry introduced the men Jonah didn’t know. “Jonah, this is Philip,” Henry pointed at the driver and then at the man next to him whose face Jonah couldn’t see because it was covered with a scarf and he wore goggles. “And Nico.”

  Jonah exhaled with relief. “Thanks for saving me, guys.”

  “Same goes for me fellas,” Henry said, and both men nodded as if it were nothing.

  Other UVs and trucks started up all around the firing line and revved their engines. The vehicles threw terrain and dirt behind them as drivers mashed accelerators to the floor, and they sped away in different directions. But all, beyond what remained of the firing line or behind it, drove parallel to the incoming onslaught of unstoppable creatures. Especially the Behemoths that were either intent on feeding on those fleeing, destroying the vehicles, or doing their best to escape from the rampaging Molters themselves.

  In the UV, Jonah shouted up at Salgado. “Donnelly and Jacobs! They still with us?

  “They are!” Salgado shouted beneath him. “Protecting the others from Henrytown!”

  Others? Jonah was exhilarated that there might be anyone else who had survived, but he didn’t want to start guessing about who they might be. Too many had died there.

  “I’ll talk to you soon!” Salgado said. “You’ll definitely see some recognizable faces, my friend!”

  Jonah already had. Henry turned around in the passenger seat and stuck his hand out toward him, grabbing his hand and shaking it. Then he pulled Jonah by the neck into an awkward hug between the seats, and Jonah felt the sudden strength of the kind of man he never hoped to fight. A man like Perry, and Jonah was glad that fight was behind him.

  “Where are they? They safe?” Henry said.

  Jonah was about to tell him when Salgado went loud with the SAR, yelling, “I’m gonna need some assistance!”

  Spent 6mm round casings clinked all over the outside of the speeding vehicle. The rush of attacking creatures forced Henry to break his embrace of Jonah, grab his rifle off the floorboard, and aim it out the window. Jonah slid down his window and did the same.

  CHAPTER 18

  Engines shattered the peaceful silence of morning, magnified and brought forth by forest and wind down the only dirt road leading to the cabin and waking up Doreen. She had nodded off, dressed already. Hearing the vehicles, she jumped out of bed as fast as if she were still in the military and in training. Heike wasn’t awake yet, and Doreen wouldn’t bother making the bed after Heike got up.

  “Heike.”

  Whoever was inside the vehicles would be there shortly. Something had obviously gone wrong. Doreen was positive of that. She could sense it. And it wasn’t only because Jonah hadn’t returned; it was because vehicles were speeding toward the cabin as if they knew where it was located. And she knew the sound of military vehicles all too well, being a transportation specialist. The fact that they hadn’t arrived yet gave her time to prepare.

  Prepare for what exactly?

  Doing her best not to get carried away and fuss and worry was similar to staying in shape. It was a struggle because she was more civilian than soldier now, mother being her most important role, and she wasn’t the same person she was when she’d worn a uniform. That didn’t mean she couldn’t access that part of her. It was always only dormant.

  “Heike.”

  For some reason, Doreen felt to her core that they would be leaving the cabin for good and wouldn’t be coming back. Except that would be on her own terms because she wasn’t about to allow an abduction. It occurred to her she should have prepared for that possibility and loaded even more food, jugs filled with boiled water, belongings, supplies, and weapons in the spare truck Jonah had kept up and running so meticulously for a time like this one. There was enough of all of it to be away for days or even weeks but not for much longer, not unless she started following Jonah’s map and digging. The supplies loaded in the truck had been stored in there right after Jonah found it and drove it home. It was only the basic essentials.

  As far as clothing went, other than what Doreen was wearing, and after Heike got dressed, and the backpacks they would carry out and the weapons—what they would use to defend themselves and what was already in the truck—that would be all. Doreen realized she had held back from being the one who made all the decisions about those sorts of things because she wanted it to be Jonah. By not doing it, it was as if she was forcing him to stay alive for her. For them. Now she was only disappointed in herself. She hadn’t been realistic, just hopeful, and sometimes hope was only a fantasy. At times, it could even be a death sentence.

  “Heike! Aufwachen!”

  Her daughter hadn’t even stirred yet, even after Doreen had risen from her nap with alarm, and when Heike finally did open her eyes, she only twisted her head without rolling over to see what was going on and if she actually needed to rise. But upon seeing the seriousness on her mom’s face, she sprang into action as if it were a drill she’d perfected.

  “What’s wrong?” Heike said.

  “Get dressed.”

  “Are we in danger?”

  “Sprich nicht. Do as I say.”

  Heike hurried out of the room, still wearing her favorite comfortable pajamas, and Doreen hoped she would be able to wear them tonight too. With a tank full of fuel and fuel canisters in the back of the pickup also, Doreen was prepared to drive all day and night—stopping only for a few potty breaks—and maybe even longer until she found a safe place for herself and Heike. But they still needed to deal with whomever was about to arrive. However that went, they might be able to evade them.

  Doreen heard the squealing of brakes and the slide of tires in slushy dirt. They were already here! The only way that could have happened was if they knew precisely where the cabin was located. Jonah wouldn’t have given up that information freely. Or easily. She hated to think what might have been done to him for him to give up that information. She couldn’t fathom his doing it at all, actually. They probably killed him yet still found out about this place.

  Heike had already thrown on her day clothes and must have left her pajamas on the floor. Doreen cracked the door open and could see their escape path was blocked by one of the military vehicles. Doreen put her finger to her lips and then pointed. Heike nodded and went as far away from the door as possible. Time for the contingency, the shit-has-hit-the-fan plan, as Jonah would say.

  She had nearly forgotten about it because it was always there, so much so that it had practically become part of the scenery. It was because Jonah had planned it so long ago, when he was still trying to think of ways anything could go wrong, whether it involved man or beast. It was kept unconcealed, and even Heike had grown used to it. She knew not to touch it because Jonah had allowed her to heft the weapon, and then he went about showing her how to fire it.

  The point was to alleviate her curiosity but also for plan Z, for Heike to use it in self-defense if Jonah or even Doreen were somehow unable to. When Heike asked how it might come to that, Jonah insisted she would know. Since then, Heike had regarded the rocket launcher as if it were like any other piece of furniture in the cabin. Mostly because it hadn’t moved since it was placed there.

  Doreen’s heart hammered nervously in her chest, even though Jonah had shown her how to handle the weapon an
d taken her through all the necessary instructions on how to operate it, everything but actually firing it. Even then, they had gone through the instructions in a safe place and far from the cabin in case it accidentally went off because of the danger of the backblast once the weapon fired. “It would be a stupid way to die,” Jonah had said.

  The rocket launcher accidentally going off inside the cabin next to the dinner table would be a stupid way for anyone to die, too, but because it was hardly ever hefted and handled it was regarded as safe. If they were worried about it being inside the cabin, then they would have had to clear the cellar of all the other weapons, too, and where did that end?

  Doreen was nervous because she had never fired an American rocket launcher before. She hefted up the fiberglass tube, feeling its weight again. She hadn’t even touched it since Jonah had taught her how to fire it, not even to dust.

  As she yanked the door open and stepped out onto the porch, she placed it over her right shoulder and was ready to depress the trigger and hit the middle vehicle, killing whoever was inside it, hoping the explosion would also debilitate the other two near it. The devastation might impact the lead vehicle, but it would definitely hinder the path of the rear one. She would have to aim in a way that wouldn’t also damage the truck she and Heike planned to use to escape.

  Instead of firing the weapon, though, Doreen froze. Then she carefully lowered the rocket launcher and set it against the wall.

  Heike pushed past her, off the porch and onto bits of slush and mud, almost slipping but instead falling into open arms. “Opa!”

  As Doreen’s father, Henry, scooped up his granddaughter, Heike, hugging her, there were men standing alongside him.