Apocalyptic Shorts

by Victor Darksaber

  If the motive behind resurrecting the project is to rebel against The Elders, I totally support it. But what they intend to do with Earth, they intend to use the planet as the factory which means every life form, plants and animals and microorganisms will be destroyed and broken down to non-life state. This I do not agree with. Maybe it is because I have spent three years with them, and I am so much into their style, or it is because The Elders forbade such atrocity or it’s that what’s bad is bad and this is super bad, I just can’t agree to it, and I will do everything within my power to stop them, even if I have to reveal their plan to The Elders.

  I detach my tentacles from Amy’s head and she falls, exhausted by the memory surge caused by the probing.

  “Argadus, you can find another world void of sentient life forms. Why does it have to be Earth?”

  “You think we wanted this too? It wasn’t easy for us either. We searched vastly beyond Earth, but the worlds we found are all habited. We figured the humans are weak, and they will be easy to conquer quietly, it's why we chose them, and it is the most logical choice and you know it. And besides, this star system is not The Elders radar, they won’t know a thing until it is too late.”

  “As much as I support your intention toward The Elders, I will not allow you to destroy the humans.”

  “It is already too late, the first stage has begun.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Why do you think I’m here? I’m here to see things through. To see the Mutants leave, and see our plans set in motion. It is already too late Cyders, you cannot stop it now.”

  I take an arbitron gun, grab Ra Argadus’s neck and throw him at the wall. I power up the gun and put it to his face. He watches as the gun comes to life, gathering energy, preparing to let out a blast at his face. In seconds, Argadus is covered in sweat, his chest pumping.

  “Tell me, Argadus, what have you done?” I yell.

  “The first step,” he swallows hard. “The sprayer, the sprayer, it’s in the atmosphere.”

  The sprayer is a drone ship for spraying cities, a whole planet with gas when needed, usually to release a global antidote for airborne plagues. Now they are using it to spray some kind of evil gas on the humans.

  “What does the gas do?” I demand.

  “You will have to see for yourself.”

  I power down the gun. I raise my hand to strike him, but I pause. “One more thing. Why did The Governors wanted me dead?”

  “Because Cyders, you knew too much, and the redemption program had recorded three failures at that time, and they couldn’t risk it with you, especially when it is you Cyders.”

  I stare at him for a moment, then I hit him so hard he passes out. I throw him on my shoulder and walk out of the room. I carry him into the ship and lock him in a light-cell in a corner. I move to the ship’s main control and power up the engines. I fly the ship and this time it flies because Ra Argadus, the primary object of the active mission is onboard.

  The ship takes off and I fly into earth’s orbit. I search the system for information on the sprayer and the gas, I find nothing that could help counter the effect of the gas, but I find the sprayer-ship's programed path. I follow the path and find the ship. I fire everything I've got at it, but its shield remains active and strong.

  I clench my fist, angry. I open the light-cell, pull Argadus out of the cell and slam his back to the wall. I jam my fist to his face and he coughs out of his slumber with a bleeding nose.

  “I found the sprayer-ship. How do I stop it?”

  “What?”

  I slap him hard on the face. “How do I stop the sprayer-ship?”

  “You can’t. There is only one person with access to the sprayer-ship’s command system,”

  “Lemme guess,” I growl. “He’s not onboard.”

  “No he’s not,” he shakes his head.

  I toss him back into the cell and seal it. I fly the ship side-by-side with the sprayer-ship and maintain the same speed with it. I set my ship on auto-pilot. I open the weapon chamber and take two C-3 plasma grenades. The sprayer-ship’s shield defense should allow me through because I’m arbitron. But if anything has changed in the last three and half years, then I could be wrong, and my plan could fail utterly and lead to my death, but it's the only way I can think of, and I have to try.

  I open the hatch, take a deep breath, run and jump at the sprayer-ship. As I get closer to the shield, I see the nearly invisible grid, and my heart begins to pound so loud it fills my head. I reach the shield and fall through it. I bump into the ship and bounce off, falling toward the tail. My hand finds something and I hold on to it like my life depends on it. Actually, it does. I pull myself up and hold with my second hand to balance up, the whole of my chest pumping as the wind slaps me all around. I let out an insane growl and smile.

  I climb to the top of the ship and when my feet find the surface, I gravitize to the ship. I find a tight space toward the tail and stick a grenade between two flat metals, so it holds. I crawl to the other side, toward my ship, find a hole so deep I can’t see its bottom, I press the grenade trigger button and drop it into the hole. I release my hands from the body of the ship and move to a standing position. I run. Just as I reach the edge, the grenade goes off, setting off the other grenade. I jump and the shock wave from the explosion shoots me at my ship. I bump hard into the ship and quickly find something to hold on to. The sprayer's engine explodes and begins to go down. I find my way to the hatch and get back into the ship.

  I lie on the floor for a short moment, gasping for air. I get up and walk to the window and watch as the sprayer-ship goes down, exploding.

  I may have destroyed the sprayer-ship and prevented the gas from spreading all over the planet, but all I have really done is buy the humans some time to prepare and fight against the darkness that will come after.

  I fly on to Arbitrus at faster than light speed. I take Ra Argadus to The Elders myself and report everything I learnt of their plan, except for the part where their ultimate intention is against them, The Elders. I reveal The Governors’ secrets, something I would never have considered even if the redemption program had failed to redeem me. The Elders find me as guilty as The Governors and condemn The Governors to a thousand years in the Dark Zone––a cross-dimensional mass prison of absolute darkness. Due to Hanther’s numerous appeal on my behalf, and because I tried to help the humans, The Elders give me ten years.

  Ten years later, I’m a free man. Hanther and I get married. We have kids. We live happily.

  At every sunset of every day, I would look up into the sky and remember Earth and the humans. I would remember the gas, and wonder if they survived. I would wonder if The Elders ever did anything to help them as they said they would. I would imagine myself sitting at the beach of Miami, staring into sunset above the blue of the ocean, cigar hanging in my mouth, and I would smile.

  The End.

  DreadLine

  IT IS THE MORNING OF THE THIRD DAY of September, year 2014, my sixteenth birthday. When the morning came, my dad walked into my room and sat beside me and he whispered in my ear, “Happy birthday son.” He placed two plane tickets to Nevada beside my head. I have never been so happy. I am what most people would call freak, nerd or whatever names it is they give to people obsessed with finding alien life. And Nevada to me is like Asian-porn to Dean Winchester.

  Five days ago, Jasper Nevada meant nothing to me, but four days ago, it became the place I want to go when I die.

  Four days ago, a very popular ufologist published on his blog a series of photos of a place in Nevada, and the subject of the photos is a shiny metal pyramid that appeared out of nowhere and rose up into the sky, leaving a five hundred feet hole in the ground. What made the photos popular is the fact that they were taken by Google satellites and downloaded through Google Earth.

  My dad and my physics teacher, Mr. Paul Sanders as I call him when we’re in class, who also happens to be the best dad in the world gave me the best
birthday gift ever! I hugged him, kissed him, rushed into the bathroom and rushed out and in minutes. I was ready for the epic trip to the land of undeniable evidence of existence of extraterrestrials on our planet. I would have called Peter, Sam and Kim––my best friends, and told them about the epic-to-be trip, but I was so excited that I forgot everything else until I got on the plane.

  My dad is sitting next to me. He is in his regular dull-green sweater and a pair of glasses, and a beautiful smile. Every time I look at him and see his round face wrinkles when he smiles, I want to hug him again. I want to tell him how much I love him, especially for this trip. He understands me, and it is why we are so close. Although I never liked the idea that I’m a lot like him, because he is usually quiet and too gentle, two attributes I greatly dislike, but we do have a lot in common.

  “Dad,” I say. He turns his head and looks at me. He was staring at a lady across the aisle, an attractive woman, a bit younger than he is. Normally, I would scold him for such thing, but just for today, if he decides he wants to enjoy some certain view, especially when it’s that of an attractive woman, I think I’ll give him a pass.

  “What Steven?”

  “I just want to say thanks again.”

  “Don’t bother,” he smiles. “I did it for us both, don’t forget that.”

  “Of course I won’t.”

  He is eager to end our conversation and get busy with staring at the woman he isn’t even talking to. His eyes shift back toward her, and then I notice the look on his face, it’s not pleasure; it is worry, intense worry. I look at the woman for a few seconds and I don’t see why he is worried, but he definitely sees something, something I don’t see.

  “Is everything okay, Dad?” I ask.

  He does not respond. His lips are pursed; he does that when he is observing something he considers strange.

  “Dad,” I call again.

  He glances around and looks at me. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he says in a lowered voice. “Most of the people on this plane are acting strange.”

  “I haven’t,” I say mockingly, smiling.

  “I’m serious Steven. There was a short hairy man when we boarded the plane, he was angry and very impatient. He bumped into two guys, an old man and a woman.”

  “Yeah, I saw that.” I say, keeping my voice as lowered as his. I look at the woman again, she’s the woman the hairy man bumped into, and she appears unsettled. “Wait, you think he infected her with his unfriendly attitude? Come on dad.”

  I look around and find the old man that was bumped into. I see the back of his head, bald and gray haired. He is looking left and right in the exact same way as the woman. I look for the hairy man that bumped into them and I find him three rows behind us. He is looking left and right too. He stops and catches me staring. His face is pale, and his eyes are bloodshot black instead of red. I think that is strange. I become nervous. His hair is curled and appears strangely strong, his lips are twitching. Something is definitely wrong with this man. Not just his anger or hostile attitude, he looks sick. I look away when his eyes catches mine. Suddenly, I want to get off the plane. The hairy man, the woman and the old man, they make me nervous. I press my back against the chair and try to slow my racing heartbeat.

  “Dad,” I say, barely hearing the sound of my voice. “Dad,”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I want to go to Nevada, I really want to, but not in this plane.”

  “What? Why?”

  The plane moves, and now it’s too late for me to get off the plane without making a scene. I know I’m going to have to ignore whatever it is I’m feeling in my gut right now.

  “What Steven?”

  “I have a very bad feeling.”

  He smiles. “You have bad feelings about many things.”

  I want to tell him this is different, that I feel so sick right now that I could vomit, but it’s my birthday, and so far, it has been good with the two of us together, and I am not ready to ruin it with a stupid gut-feeling. I nod, reassuring myself I can handle a little anxiety. You’re sixteen Steven, you’re grownup now, act like it. But no matter how hard I try, I only get more nervous, and now I feel like I’m going to barf already.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” I say.

  “Okay.”

  I get up from my seat and walk to the back. I try not to look at the hairy man, and I can tell he is looking at me. I enter the bathroom and try to force myself to vomit, but nothing comes, so I wash my hand and face with water. I stand there for a few minutes, staring at my reflection in the mirror, thinking of a million ways things could go wrong on this plane. That man could be psychotic. What if he lost it? What if Paul was right, what if his madness is transferable through physical contact? What if everyone suddenly go crazy? I’m not the type that gets scared of flying, but every atom that makes me Steven Sanders is telling me something really bad is going to happen.

  I get out of the bathroom and walk to my seat. Before I get to my seat, the woman Paul was staring at turns her head and look behind her and our eyes meet. She is pale with black stuff in her eyes, exactly like the hairy man’s eyes. She looks really angry too. Seeing her look at me the way she is looking at me, the feeling that took minutes in the bathroom to suppress comes rushing back. I stumble, but I grab on the nearest seat for support. The man on the seat looks at me, black veins are in his eyes too. I get to my chair and sit.

  “What took you so long?” Paul asks.

  I look into his eyes to see if he has the black veins too, but he doesn't.

  “Are you alright?” He says. “You look... tensed.”

  “Tensed?” I blurt quietly, frowning. “Like, black stuff in my eyes?”

  “No, there is no black stuff,” he says almost laughing. “You just look tired.”

  “That man dad,”

  “What man?”

  “The hairy man, he has this black stuff on his eyes, like veins, the woman too.”

  Paul turns his head around and immediately turns it back. “Oh my god,” he says. “Something is wrong with him.”

  I glance at the hairy man. Thick black veins are growing around his eyes down to his nose, and around his lips. He looks different from the last time I looked at his face. Paul is wearing that look he wears when he’s not getting something right.

  “Dad,” I call, but he doesn’t answer. “Dad.”

  “I counted twelve.” He says.

  “Twelve what?” I ask.

  “It’s a virus, and it’s spreading. Fast.”

  “What’s a virus?”

  “A virus is--”

  “Jesus dad! I know what a virus is. I mean what are you talking about?” I say.

  “The man, the woman, all twelve of them, they have a virus, a very deadly one.”

  “How do you know it’s a virus?”

  “The symptoms, I’ve seen it before. You’re right Steven, we need to get off this plane now.”

  I can’t help but want to laugh. “You do realize we’re about thirty thousand feet in the sky. How do you propose we get out?”

  “We jump!” He says, peering around. He is not kidding at all, and he’s beginning to make me nervous. “Listen to me Steven, I think the hairy man is a terrorist, and this plane is under attack. Everyone could be infected in minutes and since we are not infected yet, the best thing to do is to get out while we can, which is now.”

  “By jumping out of the plane?” I say. He nods.

  “There is a parachute hidden in the wall of the bathroom and there is an emergency exit somewhere in the back. We’re going to take that parachute and we’re going to jump out of this plane.”

  “The exit door, how will you get it open?"

  “Trust me I will.” He says and I believe him. Opening the emergency door while the cabin is pressurized is virtually impossible. But if he says he can, then he will.

  For a moment, I wonder how he knows where to find a parachute on a commercial plane, how he knows there’s an emer
gency exit door in the back––okay, maybe everyone knows that. How he figured this is a virus. He is not the type that jumps to conclusion, but he seems to know exactly what he is talking about.

  “So here is the plan,” he says. “I’m going to go first, get the parachute and in exactly one minute, you’re going to come meet me. You don’t look anyone in the eyes, just walk.”

  I nod. He gets up and walks to the back. As he enters the backroom, a scream fills the air. My heart pounds so hard I lost my breath for a second. I look around, trying to find the source of the scream. My eyes catch an old man with thick black veins on his face, his eyes blank black. He is standing above a chair, looking around. There is blood on his mouth and nose, but I don’t think the blood is his. I feel like my head just exploded! It is the old man the hairy man bumped into earlier. In his mouth is something that looks like––oh my god! It is flesh!––People are getting up to see what is happening. In a matter of seconds, the plane is filled with screams and blood. People with black eyes and faces full of black veins are brutally attacking people with no black eyes or black veins.

  I jump out of my seat and run to the back. The hairy man glaring at me, jumps out of his seat and charges toward me like a predator going after its prey. When he gets close enough, he dives at me, I step on the armrest of the chair beside me and spring over him. The hairy man hits his head to the chair so hard I hear his neck snaps as I fall hard on a chair. Paul comes out from the backroom with a black bag on his back. Another man with black eyes turns his body with so much force I hear his bones crack, he's only five rows away. He charges at me. I pull myself up and run. Paul reaches out for me, grabs my hand and swings me behind him. He lunges toward the man and kicks him on the chest. The man stumbles a few steps back, but doesn't fall. He opens his mouth so wide his cheeks tear and he makes a short creepy sound, almost like a frog, except frogs don’t sound creepy at all. He throws himself at Paul. Paul steps aside and jams his fist to the man’s jaw. The man crashes beside us, eyes closed, he’s not moving.