by David Peters
“Yes.”
“Great. Do you have any idea or guesses as to what they are doing? What that smoke stack looking thing coming out of the hive is or what it is for? Any speculation on how they communicate?”
“Niccole and I have spent quite a bit of time this morning putting together some very extensive observations from the other surviving townships near a hive, or hives as the unlucky case is for one township. Without a single variant we are seeing this exact same phenomenon in every single hive, even in climates where it is slightly warmer. Some of the larger hives have multiple stacks, but all of them have at least one. If I had to take a wild guess, and it is as wild as they can get, I would say they are trying to heat things up.”
More shouts and comments came from the crowd as Dylan’s tenuous control of the meeting began to fade away yet again.
“Ok folks, let the man talk please,” Dylan rubbed the scruff of his beard. It suddenly hit him how extremely tired he was. He suddenly found himself wanting nothing more than his old bed in his old house with his old way of life.
“To continue with your other question, no, I am not clear on how they communicate. If I was to venture a guess I would say ultra-low frequency sound waves. I have no gear to measure this theory in order to prove it though, so take it with a grain of salt and as a baseline theory with no evidence to back it up.” There were several whispers around the crowd as people discussed it quietly. “As far as your other question, I think the stacks are pumping out heat. I don’t know if it is excess heat from a process inside the hive or if it is intentional heat being dumped into the atmosphere with a purpose.”
A voice from the crowd yelled out, “Do you think there is any chance it’s poison gas? How do you know?”
“No. I do not think it is a toxin of any sort. Based on the reports we have from people down wind there is no odor and it is simply a warm breeze, no ill effects have been reported. I would guess is an off gassing, possibly intentionally, of a biological process. It is most likely CO2 or some other mostly harmless gas. Well, harmless in this sense.”
A second voice yelled, “English Doc.”
“Sorry sir. I, uh, think they are terraforming,” Doc looked a little frazzled for a second as he tried to find a better word, “What I think they are trying to do is simply heat the planet up more. Alter the environment so to speak. Make things more comfortable for themselves and in so doing making things a little less comfortable for us.”
“So more global warming?” someone shouted from the back of the crowd.
“I think that is a fair assessment of their intended goal, yes.” Doc fumbled with his hands as he tried and failed to look less nervous.
“So it’s going to get hotter is what you are saying?”
“Well yes and no. I am not a climatologist so I can’t say specifically what will happen in our geographic region, but warmer planet doesn’t directly translate into simple heat everywhere. We could possibly see changes in rainfall, larger storms, or possibly no storms at all. There really isn’t any way I can say. The simple fact is global warming and weather aren’t, in general, the same thing.”
Dylan spoke up to be heard above the growing rabble of the crowd, “So how long would they have to do whatever it is they are doing in order for us to actually start seeing changes?”
“Oh that could take years or more. But then again I really don’t know how many of these hives there are really. It seems that the hive locations tend to be near population centers and in warmer climates, so south of the US border may be a wasteland of hives, who knows?”
“You are always the bringer of such positive news,” Dylan said with a wink. “I think our next step is fairly clear. We need to stop these stacks. We just don’t have a clue as to how we are going to do that yet. Alright folks, let’s adjourn until Friday. If anyone has any ideas feel free to come by our cabin or find one of us working. We’re all ears at this point.” Dylan turned to Niccole and added, “I should tell them to look under our bed, because that is where I feel like hiding right now.”
As the crowd moved out of the town square to get on with the day’s business Dylan pulled the Doc aside, “Do you have any speculation on what is causing that sound?”
“Nothing you are going to want to hear.”
“I think that goes without question, I haven’t wanted to hear anything that was said at the meeting today, doesn’t mean I don’t need to hear it. Don’t get me wrong Doc, but most of the time I don’t like what you have to say. You almost never tell me anything that means my life is going to get any easier.”
“Well, based on my previous comment of it being biological off gassing, I think we may have a new breed of Corrupted as yet unseen. I would say we are about to see the next phase of development. We haven’t seen the Corrupted make any tools or anything mechanical, so in that sense they are quite primitive. Yet their social structure and communication is obviously quite advanced, you have even reported seeing writing in the hives if I remember correctly. Their social order may be more advanced than humans. Imagine what an ant or bee colony could do with human level intelligence.”
Dylan nodded.
“I think whatever is making that noise is something we haven’t seen yet. Something that in no way, shape, or form, is good for our existence.”
--5--
“I just don’t think we have the fire power to take that stack down.” Dylan looked into his cup of coffee. He shook his head in quiet frustration while he swirled the last few sips in the bottom of the cup. Niccole was cleaning up the breakfast dishes and walked into the kitchen with the last of them.
Jonathan sat across the table from Dylan in the small open dining room of the cabin. Doug the Cat was asleep and purring quietly on his lap. He was scratching the cat behind its ears as he spoke, “I gotta agree with you Dylan. I’m not sure how we are supposed to take something like that out. We might be able to come up with something big enough to do it but we would still need to get up close to that thing. We saw that the stuff they build with doesn’t burn worth a crap so it isn’t as easy as waltzing up and throwing torches at it.”
Dylan stood and walked over to the small picture frame window looking out into the town square. Directly across the square he could see the front two gate guards chatting as they stood watch, “Daniel did a fantastic job setting us up for a run-of-the-mill Armageddon. Too bad that isn’t what we have. We simply don’t have any fire power big enough to get the job done. We have a handful of grenades left but even if we had an entire box I don’t think they could bring down a building. Even if they could we are still stuck with the fact that we would have to get right next to the damn thing to do it.” He closed the curtain and sat at the small dining room table.
“And the last time we blew the roof off they had it fixed in no time,” Dylan added. “It couldn’t have been more than a week before we started seeing the roof grow back from the inside out.”
Niccole held up the coffee pot from the small kitchen, “Anyone?”
“I’m good, thanks,” Dylan said almost absently.
“Yes please.” Jonathan tried to stand and instantly got a dirty look from Doug the Cat. Niccole walked the pot over and poured him a cup, giving Doug a quick scratch on the head.
She filled her own cup and continued talking to Dylan, “Did you talk to Travis at all? He seems to be able to pull something out of nothing fairly well.”
“He was at a loss about it too. He thinks he could build something to get the explosives there, maybe even from the bluff. He was talking about wanting to build some medieval siege weapon of some sort. Even if he could build it, which I don’t doubt for a second that he couldn’t, we don’t have anything to load into it that will take out that hive. We just don’t have anything big enough. Then we would have to try and defend the thing from Sappers in the open, I can’t imagine asking for volunteers for that.” Dylan sat quietly as the stress slowly built up inside of him. The Corrupted were coming. He didn’t know when, but h
e had a feeling it would be sooner rather than later.
No one spoke as they contemplated the inevitable outcome. The simple fact was that if they were unable to do anything, they could not defend Paradise Falls forever. They would run out of supplies and ammunition before the Corrupted ran out of bodies to throw at them. Dylan finally broke the silence, “We need to come up with something and we need to do it yesterday.”
“With most of Sumter burnt to the ground we might find some supplies in the remaining houses but I can’t imagine it amounting to much.” Dylan sighed deeply, “We have Pendleton to the north but we know that is either a major hive or a smoldering heap depending on which side did the most damage. The next nearest town is a hundred and twenty miles away. That might as well be on the moon at this point.”
Jonathon stared absently at the fire in the fireplace, “That is a lot of hostile territory to move through for what may be nothing but a burned out town.”
Niccole pulled a chair next to Dylan and sat down next to him. Resting her head on his shoulder she sighed, “We need a miracle at this point.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?”
--6--
Dylan began riding the early morning scout patrol nearly every morning. He didn’t mind it as it gave him time with Buck, his horse. Both Niccole and he had made the journey south from home with nothing but a small pack and their horses, Jonas and Buck. The horses were the two kids they could never have. Even though Erica now graced their lives the horses always held a special place in their hearts.
He often rode alone and after getting over the initial fear of riding solo outside the walls he grew to love the county side he would cover. The fears didn’t pass because he no longer worried about an attack by Hunters, but because he refused to show that fear. The reality of the whole thing was that if the Hunters ever attacked outside of the walls, two people weren’t going to be able to do anything different than one. They might be able to even the odds before they were killed but ultimately it would end the same.
He followed this morning routine and found it to be one of the most relaxing things he would do during the day. Just before sunrise he would walk Buck out of his stall and saddle him up. He wore Daniels old hunting jacket religiously and began to think of it as a good luck charm of sorts. It wasn’t that he was superstitious or anything, he just felt that was easier to tell himself that was the case than admitting how much he missed his brother.
Every day for the last week he had watched as the snowfall steadily melted away. In the pasture there were only patches left here and there. The river that flowed through their small town had steadily been increasing in flow as the fields higher up in the mountain shed their winter blanket. They were into the middle of January now and should be looking at a solid three or four foot base on the higher hills but instead were down to less than a foot and a half in even the deepest places.
He climbed into the saddle and adjusted one of the stirrups. He gave the reigns a shake and quiet ‘click click’ with his tongue and Buck started towards the front gate.
“Mornin’ Sandy,” he tipped his hat at the woman on the left side of the barricade entrance, “Mornin’ Kurt,” a second tip of his hat.
“Mornin’ Boss, lookin’ like ya’ll is gonna have a nice ride this mornin’,” Sandy said with her heavy southern accent. The dark haired woman was cradling a large caliber hunting rifle and she spoke around a hand rolled cigarette she held in her lips.
Kurt pushed the gate open just far enough for Buck to pass through without Dylan hitting the sides with his boots “Have a safe ride Boss, hope you don’t find anything.”
“See you folks in about two hours,” Dylan waved absently as he turned a sharp left and followed the wall around Paradise Falls. He combined the scouting patrol with his morning rounds as much as he could. As he rode along he would look at the wall for signs of storm damage and make a mental note to get a work crew on it or see if the damage had changed over the next few days.
After riding about fifty yards he came to the first guard outpost on the wall. They had five of these overhangs built onto the top of the walls now. Originally they simply walked the elevated wall back and forth but when the bad weather came it was simply too much to ask of anyone to stand out in the rain or snow for six hours at a stretch. The large circular covered overhang allowed the guards on the main walls to sit under cover and also allowed then to shoot almost directly down the line of the wall without having to lean over the edge. Each outpost had a covered fire pit that allowed them to stay warm but kept the flames out of the direct line of sight so their night vision wasn’t wrecked.
“Good morning Dylan,” Patrick said from the railing that circled the wall outposts. He prided himself on being able to greet Dylan before the rider was able to see him perched on the wall.
“Mornin’ Pat, how were things last night?” The guards were about five hours into their six hour shift and looking forward to a breakfast and a warm bed.
“Nice quiet night. The moon was incredible. I tell ya Boss, these mountains were shinin’ last night, think it’s making us all slackers,” the big man said with a smile and the sound of pride in a job well done. “I mean why try and watch the line, but nights like last night,” he shook his head, “hard not to sit back and admire Gods land my friend. Beautiful beautiful.”
Dylan smiled and tipped his hat as he continued under the overhang and down the wall. All told he would spend the first two or three hours of each day with this chore. Occasionally Niccole would join him just for the excuse to ride Jonas. It was rare as she tended to be up late into the evening and early morning with radio work. Quite of few of the townships didn’t have the manpower they did in Paradise Falls and it shows in how much time they could dedicate to communications with those outside of their own personal worlds.
He rode along the rest of the wall with his standard morning greetings. When he reached the south gate he turned to follow a heavily worn trail that would eventually take him down the hillside towards the highway. There the trail turned parallel to Route Three about a mile short of the road and continued on to the bottom of their mountain until it met the outskirts of Sumter. There the trail they patrolled made a sharp turn back up the hill. The trail wandered through heavy brush for a little over a mile until it met up with a wide gravel road. This road twisted and turned around the valleys for several miles until it met the front gate he had departed from a few hours earlier. At about a quarter mile from the main gate he crossed a narrow portion of the ditch that followed the gravel road and would use the road until he reached the same point he departed from earlier that morning. With a wave of his hat to the now familiar face looking down at him the barricade would open just far enough to let him squeeze through then close behind him with the solid sound of the heavy gate locking into place.
It would take another forty minutes to get Buck cleaned up and put out to pasture. Tucking his riding gloves into his pockets he continued his rounds on the inside of the camp. He traveled the same walls but from inside this time. He performed the same visual inspection he had done outside, paying close attention to places where people walked. They had already rebuilt two of the stairs that let up the walls. When the alarm bell would be rung there could easily be twenty people stacked up on them at once and the heavy weight was rough on the lumber.
After the walls were pronounced sound he would stop by the water turbine shed and battery storage just to make sure the five or six green lights in there were still green. He had a real fear of losing the turbine. They didn’t use a lot of electricity but when you heard something off in the woods late at night it was really nice to be able to turn on the sodium lights that ringed the small town and turn the surrounding area from pitch black night to a yellowish daylight. Turbine parts would be hard to come by and he doubted if even the vaunted Travis could fabricate the parts with nothing but sheet metal and a hammer.
His final stop on the morning rounds was the central hub of Paradise Falls, the to
wn square. He would walk the boardwalk and look in the windows to make sure all was well. At times it felt like an old western town to him and he would smile as his boots clicked on the wooden path that connected all four sides of the square.
Dylan leaned against the doorjamb of the cabin with the blue door and knocked the snow and mud out of his boots before he stepped inside. He took one more parting look around the town and not seeing anything out of place he passed through the doorway and closed the door behind him. He hung his heavy coat and tossed his gloves on the fireplace mantel to dry out. Placing his hat on the top of the coat rack he inhaled deeply and breathed in the smell of warm breakfast cooking on the old fashioned wood stove. The air was thick with the smells of morning coffee and the sounds of bacon and eggs being carefully tended in the kitchen.
Niccole was standing over the stove humming to herself quietly as Dylan stole up and embraced her from behind, “Morning Coco, how did you sleep?”
She turned around and gave him a good morning kiss and held him close as she answered, “Morning Cowboy. I slept well thank you, breakfast is almost ready. Think you could coax Erica out of bed?” Then with a smile she added “She’s such a teenager.”
