AntiBio: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller

by Bible, Jake

“Where?” Collette asks.

  The far hatch that leads further into Control slides open and the operators all look that way.

  “I’m really hoping Worm did that,” Marco says.

  “Me too,” Ton nods.

  He looks down at the white armor of the Clean Guard and pats his body. A spot on his belt dissolves and a small baton is pushed into his palm. The others copy his movement and snap the batons into rifles, raise them to their shoulders, and then make their way around and through the insane machines towards the hatch.

  48

  Exhausted emotionally as well as physically, Jersey can barely stay on her feet as she stumbles along another hallway, one of a dozen she has been lead through. She hasn’t heard a voice or had any contact with anything since she quieted the dogs.

  That is how she sees it. She had to quiet them, calm them, allow them to let go and move on.

  Unfortunately, she can’t quiet the sounds of their last whines and yelps from her own mind.

  “Why, Worm?” she whispers as she keeps moving, her hand trailing along the white walls, leaving iridescent streaks behind that are quickly wiped away. “I’m the tech girl, remember? I handle machines, wires, static. Why send me into that?”

  The wall in front of her doesn’t yield and she sighs, turning back around to head the way she just came. She gets to that end of the hallway and the wall doesn’t yield there either. Frustrated beyond reason, she pulls at her hair, wanting to scream at the top of her lungs, but afraid of what that will bring down on her.

  “Worm? If you can hear me then please help me get through this,” Jersey says. “I don’t know what is going on. I need to find Blaze. I need to get to him so we can leave this nightmare. Please, Worm, please.”

  The wall to her left becomes transparent and she staggers back as she sees the man she loves splayed out on a medical table, Dr. DeBeers standing over him with a static blade. Jersey rushes the wall and slams her fists against it over and over, but the scene before her doesn’t change, as if they can’t hear her. And knowing the dampening tech used in the Clean Nation cities and the transports, Jersey understands why.

  She hurries up and down the hall, her hands hunting for any incongruity in the smooth texture. There has to be an access hatch, some type of interface she can open so she can get into Control’s systems. She’s watched the walls slide open, watched hatches and doors appear, so she knows it isn’t all just wishful thinking.

  But pass after pass shows her nothing.

  She leans against the wall opposite the image of Dr. DeBeers and Blaze then slides to the floor. Holding her head in her hands, she wills herself not to fall apart again, not like she did with the dogs.

  The dogs, the dogs, the dogs. That will never leave her.

  A soft sound above causes her to jerk and look up quickly, ready for an attack by one of the metal arms. But it’s the small orb again, floating a few feet above her head.

  “Worm? If that’s you I have some harsh words for you, pal,” she snaps. “That was not cool, what you did. Not cool at all.”

  The orb floats a few feet away and drops to the ground, settling in the middle of the hall. Jersey watches it, waiting for its next trick, but it only sits there. Eventually she finds the strength to stand and walks to it.

  “Okay, what?” she asks. It doesn’t respond. “Worm? Knock this shit off. You have to help me here, okay? I’m losing my shit.”

  She looks over at the wall and watches as Dr. DeBeers moves away from Blaze, picks up a new tool, then returns. Jersey feels her stomach lurch and she turns back around, taking short, shallow breaths, waiting for her belly to calm down.

  “I’m done, got it?” she says to the orb. “This was supposed to be you leading me through Control, leading me to Blaze. Not this labyrinth of insanity you’ve put me through. Not the bug hounds, not them…”

  No response.

  She kicks out, sending the orb flying down the hall. It bounces off one wall and then hits another before rolling to a stop. She throws her hands up in exasperation and stomps after it.

  “That didn’t knock some sense into you?” she snaps. “How about another?”

  She draws her foot back again to strike then stops, seeing a tiny dent in the white perfection where the wall and floor meet. Kneeling close, she finds a gap big enough for her to wriggle her index finger in. She hooks the end and pulls back, peeling a thin strip of metal away.

  Behind it is a single wire, a small thread of alloy that surprisingly looks more like copper than steel, something rarely seen in Caldicott City.

  Jersey goes to grab it then laughs.

  “Idiot,” she mutters as she tears off a piece of her shirt, wraps it between her fingers, then yanks on the wire. The synthetic material the shirt is made from insulates her as small static sparks fly from the wire until it pulls free, disconnecting from its junction.

  The wall next to her goes completely clear and she looks into the room that is almost identical to the one that holds Blaze. But this room is dark and void of any life, its table empty and obviously unused in some time.

  Jersey stands and presses her hand against the wall and it slides free about an inch then stops dead. Working her hands in the small space, she pulls with all her strength, leaning her body back, using her weight to open the wall enough to slip through.

  Above her, hanging lifeless from the open ceiling are metal arms, their tool ends unmoving.

  “This is messed up,” she says, looking over her shoulder. “Worm? You there?”

  She goes to the wall and peers back into the hallway, but the orb is gone. Looking up at the ceiling, she sees a panel slide back into place.

  “Well, screw you too then,” she snaps and turns back to the room.

  Part of one wall is unformed, like it couldn’t decide what to become. A hint of a sonic here, a corner of a drawer there, the outline of a tray of tools pressed against it. Jersey wonders how a room like this can even exist in the sterile, cold environment of Control. Who lets that happen?

  Who, indeed?

  Machines and orbs, dogs and metal arms, sliding walls and never ending hallways. But no people. She hasn’t seen a single human being since she escaped from the stasis cylinder. She didn’t even see one there since all the other cylinders were closed.

  All the other cylinders…

  Jersey whirls about and rushes into the hallway, her eyes studying Dr. DeBeers. Something about the way the woman moves as she stands over Blaze working brings a memory to mind, but she can’t place it. She rushes the wall and starts to pound again, but still there is no response.

  “Okay, okay, think,” Jersey says. “Worm led you here, but can’t get you in to save Blaze. He can get you into the weird junk room, though. Why?”

  Once again, she enters the chaotic room, but this time she isn’t looking for clues or answers. This time she’s looking for tools. She smiles at the limp arms and grabs onto two that have imposing implements attached to their ends. She pulls hard and is surprised how easily they release from their moorings in the ceiling.

  Feeling like a ping pong ball, she returns to the hallway and the other wall, kneels down by the juncture of the wall and floor and gets to work.

  49

  “Clear,” Marco states as he steps into the next hallway. “Just like the last ones.”

  “Never assume,” Red and Ton say at the same time.

  “God, there’s two,” Collette smirks.

  “Rats in a maze, anyone?” Paulo asks as he follows the rest in with Nick right behind him.

  Marco lifts a fist and the squad halts instantly, following his gaze as he looks up at the ceiling. They listen and wait, all wondering what caught his attention.

  Then it all opens up and metal arms rip through the ceiling and come rushing down at them.

  “Hit the deck!” Ton shouts as he fires off a round of static blasts, ripping two arms apart before he dives to the floor out of the way of two others.

  Red rolls and com
es up on one knee, firing at anything above him that moves. Metal whips down at him, but he dodges to the side, never letting his finger rest, keeping up blast after blast.

  The hallway becomes thick with the smell of ozone as the squad ducks and dives from side to side, their training and experience keeping them from colliding, as they defend themselves from the onslaught of shiny metal arms and sharp tools.

  A few more blasts and the arms still. A few that aren’t too damaged retract into the ceiling, but the rest dangle there, sparking for a few seconds then fizzling out.

  “Hold!” Ton shouts, wedged into a far corner, the barrel of his rifle glowing blue. “Report!”

  “Good!” Paulo shouts.

  “Solid!” Marco yells.

  “Okay here!” Collette calls out, tucked into the corner across from Ton.

  “All fingers all toes!” Nick says, coughing from the haze of electrically charged mist that fills the hallway.

  “Red?” Ton shouts. “Red? Report!”

  “I do the yelling, thank you,” Red says from the far end of the hallway. He’s standing there looking at a hole blasted through the white metal. “You’ve gotta see this.”

  The squad picks themselves up and join him, brows furrowing and heads shaking.

  “What the hell are we looking at?” Nick asks.

  “Not a clue,” Red says.

  The room is massive and filled with pile after pile of clear boxes, each labeled and tagged, holding what looks like clothing and personal effects. Red points at Marco and Collette then at the room. The two operators hurry inside, sweeping their rifles from side to side. They clear the corners then each take a side and rush past each pile, making sure nothing is hiding from sight.

  “Clear,” Marco says, but doesn’t let his rifle lower. Instead, he taps the barrel against one of the clear boxes. The side opens and he sticks the rifle barrel inside, lifting up a tattered old bra. “Are you shitting me?”

  “It’s like a Cootie hole,” Collette says. “Just orderly.”

  “Cootie hole?” Paulo asks. “Haven’t had the pleasure of being in one of those.”

  “Some Cooties like to hoard,” Red explains. “We’ll find caves, burrows, bunkers, all filled with crap like this, stuff they find in the Sicklands and take back with them.”

  “Why?” Paulo asks. “Can’t eat this crap.”

  “Maybe it makes them feel like people again,” Ton says. “Maybe they gather it up to try to get a piece of their humanity back.”

  “Like Cooties were ever human,” Paulo snorts.

  “Hey,” Red snaps. “They may be fucked up disease bags, but they are still people. Living, breathing,suffering, people.”

  “Sorry, man,” Paulo says. “Wasn’t trying to be a dick about it.”

  “He knows that, right, Red?” Ton says, looking at the man.

  “Yeah, right,” Red nods. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to jump down your throat. You just don’t know what it’s like living in the Sicklands.”

  “And thank God for that,” Paulo says. “I wouldn’t want to trade places with you guys any day.”

  “You haven’t traded,” Marco smirks. “You’ve just joined.”

  “Ha ha,” Paulo laughs then stops, seeing the serious looks on Coffin squad’s faces. “Wait…you’re not joking.”

  “What do you think comes next?” Red asks. “You hop in the transport and drive back to Caldicott City and resume life as usual? Not happening, kid. You’re on the wrong side of Control now.”

  “But what is Control?” Ton asks, looking from clear box to clear box. “A Burn swap meet?”

  “Each box is individual,” Collette says, kneeling next to an extra large box filled with mostly books. The box slides open and she grabs one, turning it over and over in her hand. “And weird. What the hell are these? They have writing all in them.”

  “Books,” Red says. “My dad had some when I was a kid before they were taken because of possible contamination. Bacteria can live in the pages.”

  Collette drops the book she picked up and wipes her hand on her armor.

  “I wouldn’t worry,” Ton says. “If the Sicklands can’t kill ya then you think some antique will?”

  “In this place? Who knows?” Collette shrugs, bringing her rifle back up.

  “We could really use Worm’s help right now,” Red says. “He could shed some light on this. Tell us why Control would keep crap like this.”

  “If this all belongs to people, then where are the people?” Paulo asks. “We haven’t seen anyone since we got here. Not a single living soul except for the Clean Guard back in the bay.”

  “And with the way the machines went nuts, I doubt they’re still alive,” Red says. “That place was turning into Hell fast.”

  “This whole place is Hell,” Ton says. “It’s like we’re being led from one ring to another.”

  “One ring?” Marco asks. “What? Like that Johnny Cash song?”

  “No, it’s Dante,” Ton says. Everyone but Red looks at him, puzzled. He shakes his head. “I miss Milo. He’d know what I’m talking about.”

  “We’re just messing with ya,” Marco grins. “Beware all ye who enter here and that shit, right?”

  “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” Nick corrects.

  “Close enough, man,” Marco shrugs then looks at Red. “Where to now?”

  “Ton?” Red asks. “We kinda got thrown into this. Did Worm say anything to you when he woke your ass up?”

  “Just that he wished he could give us more time,” Ton says. “Feels like we’ve already been circling through these halls for an eternity.”

  “Then out we go,” Red says, walking back towards the hallway. “Onward and upward.”

  “Excelsior,” Ton responds.

  “You old farts need to speak English,” Collette cracks.

  50

  When the wall slides open, Jersey is ready. Before Dr. DeBeers can turn, she leaps at the woman, whipping her across the back with one of the metal arms, slicing through her uniform and splitting the skin underneath.

  “Holy shit,” Jersey says, not expecting quite so gruesome a result. Her goal had been to knock the woman aside or down then tackle and subdue her, not tear her a new one.

  “You,” Dr. DeBeers says, as she whirls on Jersey. “He’s mine now, you can’t take him!”

  “Uh…whatever!” Jersey shouts as she whips the arm out again, but this time Dr. DeBeers is ready and grabs it, yanking Jersey close, getting right in her face.

  “You should be asleep in the Waiting Room,” Dr. DeBeers snarls. Jersey can see the madness, almost smell it coming off the woman. Dr. DeBeers just stares at her then smiles. “It’s not your turn yet.”

  “Fuck off,” Jersey yells and shoves the madwoman away. “What the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?”

  Jersey glances at Blaze and Dr. DeBeers follows her gaze.

  “He’s healthy and fine,” she says. “I haven’t touched him. Yet. He needs more prep. We all need more prep. We have to prepare for Him.”

  “You’re fucking insane, lady,” Jersey says. “And I’m really, really done with insane right now. Step away from my guy and I’ll just take him out of here.”

  “How?” Dr. DeBeers laughs. “You can’t leave Control. Not without permission.” Her eyes sparkle and dance. “And I don’t give anyone permission to leave! Not anymore! Protocol 1 is in place!”

  “Who the hell are you, lady?” Jersey asks, circling around to the other side, putting Blaze between them. “You act like you are in charge of this place, but there’s no way anyone would put you in charge.”

  “I was Chairperson, but now I serve Him,” Dr. DeBeers says then clamps her hand across her mouth. “I…I don’t…” She shakes her head over and over. “Yes, I do! I serve HIM!”

  “Him? Him who?” Jersey asks then looks down at Blaze and raises an eyebrow. “You don’t mean him, do you?”

  “How dare you! How dare you!” Dr. DeBeers screams and dives acros
s the table, her body landing on Blaze.

  “Bitch!” Jersey yells, slamming her fist into Dr. DeBeers’s face again and again. “Get off my man!”

  51

  “CONTROL WIDE STERILIZATION IN FIFTEEN MINUTES AND COUNTING.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Ton says.

  “Sterilization?” Paulo asks. “Did that AiSP mean us?”

  “Yes.”

  The operators stop.

  “That was in my com,” Marco says. “You guys?”

  “Yep,” Paulo says.

  “Mine too,” Nick says.

  “It must have bypassed the piggyback and relayed into our PSCs,” Red says.

  “The piggyback was useless,” the Voice says. “An inventive try by yourWooooooooooorrrrrrrmmmmmm, but pointless.”

  “Who am I speaking with?” Ton asks. “Identify yourself now. You are not an AiSP.”

  “No, I am not,” the Voice says. “And yet I am. Identity is a tricky thing, don’t you think, Alton?”

  “Not if I know who I’m speaking to,” Ton replies.

  “No, no, not my identity,” the Voice says. “Your own. So tricky. Do you know who you are, Alton?”

  “I’m the guy that’s gonna beat your ass when I find you,” Ton says. He points towards the end of the hall and the operators move out.

  “You don’t need to find me, I have found you,” the Voice says. “But, please keep searching. Take your time CONTROL WIDE STERILIZATION IN THIRTEEN MINUTES AND COUNTING.”

  “Sergeant Kim?” Worm whispers over the com. “Do not respond, just listen, please.”

  Paulo keeps walking, his face impassive.

  “That is not a person, Sergeant,” Worm says. “Do not search for it. Continue on your present path. Three hallways then turn right. Do you understand?”

  “Follow me,” Paulo says, taking point.

  “Good,” Worm says. “When you get to the destination you will need to have all of your faculties in place. The run is over, the mission is over, the resistance is over. I am doing all I can to keep the squads safe, but Control is stronger than a single AiSP such as I.”