Wrath of the Carnelians (Europa)

by Jason Gehlert

  The River

  Shaw took in a deep breath and exhaled with great excitement. He leaped out the window and submerged himself in the chilled river. Kaspar and Gillian were already ahead of him, slogging through the waist-deep current. Shaw splashed his away across the river, taking in the alluring attraction of the jungle. Before the Lieutenant was an exact carbon copy of Earth. Of course, there were some minor exceptions. The sky had a weird reddish tint to her, and harbored two moons off in the distance. The planet’s sun was arched high above, drenching the land with her powerful rays.

  “I can see at least two moons,” Kaspar broke Shaw’s silence. “This a bit odd, viewing two moons.”

  “Yeah, I can see them too,” said Shaw. “The sun’s kind of bright. And, a weird hue of blue,” Shaw responded, shielding his eyes from the burning glare. “Damn, we forgot to pack our sun screen lotion.”

  “We can’t last out here forever, we’ll burn to a crispy goodness,” Gillian noted, rubbing her skin. “I’m already turning a modest red.”

  “Eh, all Irish gals burn to a crispy sizzle,” Shaw shot back with his reply, still attempting to goad Gillian into one of her spicy remarks.

  “Back off, I’m fully loaded.” Gillian turned around and spat her tongue out at Shaw.

  “Oh, that’s real mature,” Shaw quipped back.

  “Kids,” Kaspar interceded, fostering a parental role, reminiscent of long car rides with a pair of squabbling siblings in the backseat.

  Shaw and Gillian playfully fell silent. They each murmured an apology of some sort.

  “I see some trees over there. Why don’t we rest up and work out the rust?” Kaspar tapped Gillian to head over to the sagging weeping willow-like trees.

  “Yeah, I guess that sounds almost like a decently prepared plan,” Shaw, dripping wet, propped his tired body up against the thickened bark of the tree.

  “Man, what a ride.” Kaspar looked about. The river coursed its way down the center of the jungle, slowly swallowing up the downed craft. “I’d say a few more inches south and the river’s bed drops substantially,” Kaspar conjectured on the topography of the area.

  “And how do you know that?” Shaw chucked down his pack and unzipped it retrieving the canteens. “Gillian, Commander, toss me your canteens and I’ll load them up.” Shaw motioned to Gillian and Kaspar.

  “I took a brief look at the river’s depth on the ship’s map of the area. I’ve also snatched up a few compasses to aid us in our trek.” Kaspar rummaged through his own backpack and retrieved the cool technology. “These are digital and pinpoint exact according to the Earth’s central core.” Kaspar caught his mistake. “Well, New Earth’s core. I mean it has to have one right?” Kaspar looked over at Gillian. “Every planet possess a magnetic core, yes?”

  “Yeah, it does.” Gillian stared out across the jungle. “Do you even have a plan on where to go?”

  “Not one. If there are survivors, I’m sure we’ll stumble on some eventually. The important part is we are all alive and well.”

  Shaw bent down and scooped up the water, refilling the canteens, one by one with a deliberate pace, soaking in the coolness of the river. He washed over his hands, cleansing them free of debris and dirt from the swim before.

  Shaw’s eyes studied the river, catching a small flurry of activity beneath the surface. Squinting his eyes, he caught sight of the unknown species. It was bluish in color, had small tails, and small hands and feet with jagged claws on the end. “Commander,” he whispered, but Shaw was still a decent amount of distance away from the Commander and Gillian.

  “Hey, Shaw!” Kaspar called out the dawdling Lieutenant. “Stop the sightseeing tour!”

  “I think you need to see this,” Shaw waved over the Commander. His hand reached for his 9MM from his backpack. Shaw motioned for the Commander to slowly approach the riverbank. Gillian refreshingly drank the cool water, letting some spill down her chin and run across the orange and red jumpsuit.

  “What do you see?” Kaspar saw Shaw reaching for his weapon.

  Shaw nodded to the assimilating horde of species swimming underneath the wavy surface. “Ever see those fuckers before?” Shaw had already known the answer.

  “Yeah, back on Europa,” Kaspar said with a demoralized tone. “I thought we killed them all.”

  “Obviously not,” Shaw noted. “‘Cause here they are.”

  “I don’t get it,” Kaspar replied while he screwed back on the cap to the canteen.

  “What if they are small enough to fit into the canteen?” Shaw questioned the possibility. “Did you drink the water yet?” He prodded the Commander for an immediate answer. “Well? Did you or not?”

  “Nah, not yet,” he responded. The Commander then turned his attention to someone else in the party.

  “Oh shit,” both men chorused, turning to face Gillian, who by this time was already a third through her canteen.

  “Gillian!” Shaw raised his weapon. “Don’t take another drink from the canteen.” Shaw waved the 9mm about before steadying it on the object.

  “What the hell are you doing?” She blurted, wiping away a layer of water from her lips. Her fingers felt something moving about inside the canteen.

  “Those things from Europa,” the Commander paused, “they’re here.”

  “Gillian, unless you want to lose your fingers, let go of the canteen,” Shaw prompted her to take evasive action.

  The small head of the carnelian poked its head through the top of the canteen, startling Gillian. With a roaring scream, she threw the object in the air.

  Shaw released a series of bullets at the body of the emerging carnelian, splattering the remnants across the bark of the tree. The canteen, with several holes pierced in its body, careened back to the ground, spinning wildly as bloodied fragments of the alien inside spilled across the ground’s terrain.

  “Nice shot,” Gillian quoted, letting a deep breath escape through her quivering lips.

  “As much as I want the credit for both targets,” Shaw let loose his grip on the 9MM, if only for a brief moment. “I took down the alien, but the canteen, that wasn’t my shot.”

  “So, that means that there is someone else here with us,” Kaspar gazed across the treetops, trying to catch any movement in the high branches.

  “I agree,” the voice called out from one of the trees.

  “Where are you?” Shaw questioned the voice.

  “Drop your weapons,” the man again demanded of Shaw.

  “No,” Shaw raised his weapon and surveyed the treetops. “You drop yours first.”

  “I’m an expert with a rifle, and right now I have the center of your forehead in my cross-hairs,” the voice ordered Shaw to retreat. “Don’t question my talents.”

  “Oh yeah? Prove it,” Shaw said. “Shoot this guy next to me,” Shaw quipped.

  A shot rang out and whizzed by Shaw’s left ear and took down one more of the flying aliens.

  “Okay, I’ll comply,” Shaw said while he dropped his weapon to the ground. “We’re from Earth, and we mean you no harm. Not right away anyway,” Shaw’s biting reply didn’t sit well with Kaspar. “Are we good?”

  “Oh, enough already with the pissing contest,” Kaspar urged reconciliation between the two parties.

  “I know where you are from.” The man lowered himself from the tree right behind Gillian. His hulking arms still in form from his younger days. His roaming mid-section however, could use a few more daily crunches. He was dressed in torn fatigues, parts of his shirt had several claw marks scattered about the bloody fabric.

  “You’re one of us?” Shaw questioned the man’s appearance.

  “Yeah, one of the lucky ones.” The man walked past Gillian and headed for Shaw’s weapon. “I can see you have a strong distaste for these aliens as well,” the man bent over and picked up Shaw’s weapon. The man’s right arm had a signature tattoo of a woman’s name. Shaw peered at the unique design that enveloped the name Sue within.

  “Th
at’s a mighty interesting tattoo,” Shaw added. “Who is Sue? Girlfriend? Wife?”

  “That would be my wife.” The man rose and handed Shaw back his weapon. His voice harnessed a commanding presence.

  “Thank you.” Shaw gripped the weapon firmly in his right hand. He noticed the man’s jowly, unshaven face that recently given way to a five o’clock shadow. The man also had some wrinkles throughout his tanned, yet weathered face, a definite sign that he had been through some tough scuffles. Shaw also caught sight of the salt and peppery design to the man’s receding hairline.

  “You were a Marine as well?” Gillian followed the strange man and analyzed his scratched left arm which brandished another remarkable tattoo.

  “Once a Marine, always a Marine young lady,” he bravely stated before continuing, “I really don’t have the time nor the luxury to bring everyone up to speed about my past,” the man said with a tough gritty tone. “We need to hustle out here before Black returns.”

  “Black?” Shaw asked. “Who is that?”

  “Someone you don’t want to fuck with,” the man responded. “A very dangerous entity.”

  “What’s your name?” Commander Kaspar asked the man to reveal his identity to Kaspar’s crew.

  “Dwight Stephens,” the man finally revealed his name. “My nephew back on Earth calls me Bud. So that’s my name, Bud. Got a problem with that Sparky?”

  “No. That name agrees with us,” Gillian affirmed.

  “Follow me,” Bud ordered the threesome. “I will tell you everything once we are safe, and out of the darkness.”

  “I certainly won’t argue with that logic.” Shaw glanced at the slowly escaping sunlight. “Jilly, I thought this side of the planet was always parked permanently in the sunshine mode.”

  “It is, but it still experiences dusk.”

  “And, that’s when we need to be safe.” Bud expertly led the group through the dense jungle, occasionally throwing up his left hand to alert the threesome to imminent changes in their desired path.

  “We’ve experienced some problems before we landed here,” Kaspar extended the conversation.

  “Later, please. No time for chit-chat right now,” Bud sternly directed the group to abstain from verbal excursions.

  “This jungle freaks me out a bit,” Gillian whispered over to Kaspar. “Doesn’t it scare you?”

  “Yeah, but it’s definitely better than Europa.” Kaspar held her hand. “I’ll trade a frozen moon for a hot jungle any day of the week.”

  “What did I just say?” Bud turned around. “I’m not running a day care center here. But, I can definitely introduce everyone to some rigorous discipline.”

  “Nah, I’ll pass on that perk of the vacation,” Shaw cracked. “I’ve had my fair share of discipline, and I frankly think the whole thing’s overrated.”

  “A few more yards,” Bud instructed the group to move around a series of bent trees.

  “Did you notice those claw marks on the bark?” Gillian again whispered to Kaspar.

  “Yeah, and they look a lot like the Carnelians’.”

  “Shit, what if they’re here too?” Shaw posted the scary question.

  “We’ll treat it like the large elephant sitting in the middle of the room for right now.” Kaspar tapped Shaw on the shoulder as they walked side by side. Gillian flanked the Commander on his right side.

  “Jesus.” Bud gleaned another disturbing sentence. “Can we just shut up for a minute? God people, I’ve shot the enemy for talking less than you do.”

  “Are we almost there?” Gillian peered around, noticing a dead-end was fast approaching the embittered group.

  “Yeah,” Bud replied. “Is everyone ready?” He bent over and wriggled his fingers through the scattered leaves and muck pulling hard on the silver handle.

  “Ready for wha...?” Shaw had no time to finish his sentence. The Lieutenant stared agape at the open hatch protruding from the ground.

  “Do you want to survive?” Bud addressed the startled survivors.

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?” Gillian rounded back to her chirpy form.

  “Then hurry and climb down the ladder,” Bud said, waving over Gillian. His fingers worked out a small flare gun from his jacket pocket and aimed it down the hatch. “Ladies first,” he urged Gillian to move forward. “Just climb down the opening and wait for us at the bottom.” He fired the flare into the belly of the hatch, expanding the ground below in a reddish hue.

  “Now you.” Bud waved his finger over in Shaw’s direction.

  Shaw complied and worked his way down the small ladder.

  “Commander,” Bud again repeated the process with Kaspar after noticing the blown hatch. “I sense that you are their leader?”

  “Yeah, I am.” Kaspar started the descent.

  “I noticed each of you are stocked reasonably well,” Bud responded. “Did you arrive on another ship?”

  “Yeah,” Kaspar answered. “The Abagail held together long enough for us to escape from Europa.”

  “That’s a sign that someone with military background has their fingers all over the puzzle.” Bud took appreciation in Kaspar’s background.

  “Yeah.” Kaspar turned around and backed his way down the ladder.

  Bud leaned over and stared at Kaspar’s darting eyes, and offered another one of his speeches. “That’s good, because we are going to need all the tactical advantages we can gather.”

  Brigadier Kenneth Black

  and Lieutenant Roderick Cole

  His feet trampled across the multicolored foliage, scattered up a drift of green leaves behind him. His body ached from running, but if he stopped, he would be dead. He was running for several miles, refusing to take a breath. His lungs burned with raging fire, his muscles ripped and ripped over and over again, as his legs pounded against the hard dirt surface.

  “You can’t hide from me,” the voice echoed throughout the thick forest.

  Sweating, the middle-aged man tripped over a moss-covered log and sprawled out across the jungle’s hot floor, spraining his right ankle. Spiders, and various other insects scattered away from the rotted log, scampering off into the deep heart of the jungle. His white shirt soaked with the pit stains of a marathon run. His faded Captain stripes were peeling from the shoulder of the wrinkled shirt. At one time, the pristine shirt was perfectly ironed, courtesy of his late wife back on Earth. The pilot’s jet black trousers were riddled with mud, tears, and waterlogged from his dash through the riverbed a few miles back.

  He looked up at the darkening skies. The approaching barking startled him, forcing the pilot to retreat up against the log.

  A series of men crashed through the trees, surrounding the pilot. One of the men, held the dogs on a tight leash.

  “Ah, you thought you could outrun my men?” The man questioned the pilot.

  “I thought I’d give it a try.”

  “There are more of you,” the man insisted.

  “I’m the only one,” the pilot referenced the crash. “The rest of my crew died in Apollo’s crash.”

  “I’ve seen the other survivors,” the man became angry. “I will devour you if you fail to give me what I want.”

  “I’m a dead man anyway. I’ve seen what this jungle truly is. I’ve seen them.” The pilot clutched his ankle.

  “What’s your name?”

  “My name’s John Clifford, second-in-command of the Apollo. And you would be?”

  The man paced back and forth and ultimately faced John, exposing his tortured facial scars. “I am Brigadier Kenneth Black,” he curtly responded, “and, I am one person you definitely don’t want to fuck with.” His black gloved hands gripped the bloody leash on his pair of prized Doberman’s.

  John noticed Black’s scarred face, and cringed on thinking what could be underneath the Brigadier’s faded black left eye patch.

  “Now, where are the survivors?” Black loosened the tight leash on the pair of Doberman’s. The fifty-two-year-old military offic
er had many wounds from his encounters with the Carnelian species. His thinly cropped black hair covered what seemed to be a newer scar, one that had run the entire distance of Black’s cranium.

  “I’m not revealing their location. You will never find Captain Page.” John lifted his body off the ground, bracing up against the log. He watched the angry Dobermans pacing in front of him, their pants heavy, dripping globs of spit to the dirt. John’s eyes caught movement underneath their skin, a bit south of their neck. The slithering entity only cemented the fact that John wasn’t going insane, and this jungle had defined evil right down to the last syllable.

  “Ah, now that’s a start,” Black again let the leash loosen a little bit more.

  “That’s all I’m giving,” John said, carefully watching the dogs as their mouths jawed about with insane barking.

  “You’ll never make it back to the rest of the group,” Black said with a curled grin. His right eye, a vibrant emerald green, pulsated inside his socket. “I don’t need your help,” Black responded with confidence.

  “Really?” John clawed his fingers at the soft bark of the log, ready to make his escape. “And why would that be?”

  “My Commander is on his way as we speak. I can feel his presence nearing. Once he comes, it will coincide with our Feast of the Eclipse,” Black hissed.

  John looked Black directly in the eye, and felt a rush of fear overtake him. “Feast?” John asked, nervously gnawing his teeth against the inner side of his cheek.

  “Every one-hundred and twenty years, give or take a few months, we dine on the local population.”

  “Aren’t we the only survivors?” John asked. “I mean you were on Apollo’s manifest as well. Once we crashed, you went missing, along with Lieutenant Cole over there,” John waved his anxious finger.

  “Yeah, we did go missing there for awhile,” Black said. “However, Cole, along with some other survivors, have come to experience another form of enlightenment. And, the Carnelians, the true rulers of this planet, rolled out the red carpet for us,” Black raised his voice, ushering in thousands of the small, blue aliens to the small clearing.