Clio and Cy: The Apocalypse

by Christopher Lee

Snapping his fingers, Russ signaled for Lady to come closer. He grabbed the K-9 and crawled behind an abandoned refrigerator lying on its side. Clio followed them on her belly.

  Lady growled in a threatening rumble. “Quiet Lady,” Russ softly demanded, grabbing his dog by the scruff of her neck. Lady obeyed. The well-trained dog remained still, staring up with her eyeballs darting back and forth.

  Suddenly, they came into focus. Clio saw two flesh eaters squaring off at each other. Toe-to-toe, they were preparing to fight. That’s what he’s talking about, Clio thought as she noticed the disproportionate size of one beast. It’s almost nine or maybe ten feet tall, she thought. Like an evil comic book villain come to life, its muscle mass was grotesque.

  Their stench filled Clio’s nostrils and their hissing sounds caused her skin to go pasty white.

  “Keep a hold of her,” Russ said to Clio, whispering as he aimed his weapon.

  Clio stroked Lady while praying the dog wouldn’t bark and alert the creatures of their presence. Unknown to Clio, the creatures were aware of her and her two new friends. The monsters, however, were too worried about each other at the moment to care.

  Both creatures were on a path to Clio and Russ when they picked up each other’s scent. Their hunt for human flesh was soon turned into a fight for survival. Monster vs, monster: Two of Dr. Pavlov’s creations were in a standoff. One was a flesh-eating female from his first batch: The second design was one of his favorites, a humungous bull male.

  Clio and Russ heard something coming through the woods from behind. A third creature appeared and went by as if it didn’t notice them hiding behind the refrigerator.

  A smaller male, the third creature was also from the original batch. It was doing something different – it was learning – helping one of its own. All of Dr. Pavlov’s creations started adapting. Evolving using parts from their mammalian brains, they’d begun to come together in something other than mating.

  They began assisting each other for survival.

  The female saw the small male coming to aid, to rescue her. She stood erect with courage, paused, and then dropped low. Coiled and ready, she sprang, launching an attack. She flew with exposed fangs and reached the bull while still airborne. Snatched out of the air by the massive bull, it held the female by the throat like a toy. The weaker beast kicked and clawed helplessly dangling off the ground. The smaller male was running hard on all fours and almost there. Leaves and dirt kicked up after the third combatant hurled its body and launched skyward, clearing the distance of thirty feet, flying toward the fight. Like the helpless female, it was snatched out of midair.

  The bull held both monsters by their throats and they shook and clawed to break free. Smelling their pungent body odor, Clio held Lady while stroking her in fear. The smaller creatures fought like wolverines caught in a bear trap. Their wicked sounds bounced off the trees, clawing deep lacerations into the bull’s skin. If it was going to survive, the massive humanoid had to let go of one creature.

  The humungous bull threw the small male through the air like a shot put. It flew like a ball of iron until it hit the ground, rolling across the dirt. End over end, it tumbled like an animal that’d fallen down a ledge. Bull focused its attack on the small female still in its clutches and slammed her to the ground. Bull leaned in and bit, violently shaking its head like it was bobbing for apples, ripping the female’s throat out.

  She was dead in seconds.

  The small male regained its balance and came back fast, charging and clawing over the dirt. It jumped and flew through the air with its claws out and fangs exposed. Hitting a brick wall of flesh, it stopped in midair, caught in the bull’s clutches. Bull held the creature up and wrapped both of its paws around the smaller beast’s throat. Helpless, it clawed trying to break free. The powerful bull squeezed and sunk its claws into the neck of its puny combatant, crushing windpipe and breaking neck bones. Defeated, the lesser beast dangled limp.

  The rogue bull looked over at Russ and Clio while still holding its dead victim a foot off the ground. “SSSShhhhhaaaa!” It released the lifeless male. “SSSShhhhhaaaa!” Hissing again, it revealed the dark red inside its mouth.

  Russ held his breath and carefully aimed. He kept one eye open and looked down his barrel as sweat dripped off his brow. Salt stung the old man’s eyes and blurred his vision as Bull ran toward them, barreling in full attack mode.

  The old man controlled his nerves and fired. “Crack!”

  The beast stumbled and howled to a stop. It balled low on the ground and grabbed the wound where the bullet pierced its skin below the shoulder. After inspecting the blood covering its paw, bull stood erect. A strange sound floated across the distance; the creature was sucking the blood off its palm while enjoying the taste. Its tongue was visible as it licked in a slow line across its fingers. Bull dropped back down, coiling, “SSSShhhhhaaaa!”

  Russ rested on the fridge and fired at will and hit the charging monster, causing it to stumble after each shot. Bull’s rush slowed to an off balanced jaunt after the fourth shot entered its flesh. The beast was moving slow, but it was still coming. The old man was ready.

  Determined, Russ stood to his feet and aimed. “Crack – Crack – Crack – Crack,” firing in rapid succession until the beast was crawling a few feet away from them. “Crack!” it stopped after the old man put one through the creature’s Saint Bernard-sized head.

  CHAPTER 15 - FREEDOM FIGHTERS

  “...the thing with brothers is, you're supposed to take turns being the keeper. Sometimes you get to sit down and be the brother who is kept.”

  ― Orson Scott Card

  California:

  RMB Pendleton:

  RMB Jackson was destroyed, leaving California as the lone Resistance Base. RMB Pendleton still had some fight left in her. Being only one of two major bases that didn’t have Smartbots working onsite, they’d also had the longest time for warning until impact. It was the only place in America still putting out a worthy offense, as well.

  The humanoids hadn’t made it that far west yet, but the Ker had. Robots were on search and destroy missions and in the process of eliminating the small pockets of Resistance groups that still remained. Once the smaller pockets were mopped up, the last big hold out was next. Dr. Pavlov would focus his force strength against RMB Pendleton. Ker alone, however, could not finish the job. RMB Pendleton and her Marines were too heavily fortified. He found that out the hard way.

  Marines prepared for combat.

  Lance Cpl. Jimmy Woolridge realized something for the first time in his life. He was truly afraid, but more so, he realized that these could be his last moments alive. Jimmy was afraid to die.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d mustered with his platoon on the tarmac, “the grinder,” as they called it. But this time was different. Moments were ticking down and he waited to enter a deadly fight. He’d only heard stories told by Marines after they came back from battle; Jimmy Woolridge had never experienced live combat before. This was going to be his first real fight against the Ker.

  Those metal bastards were out there, waiting.

  His idol must have gathered on this same grinder, just as he was now. Can’t believe he’s dead, Jimmy thought. Inside a body bag… that’s how his idol came back the last time Marines from RMB Pendleton returned from battle.

  Was he this scared before he went to fight? Did he shake like this too? He wondered looking down at his trembling hands. All Lance Cpl. Jimmy Woolridge ever wanted was to be like him, his idol - his brother. Feeling unsure, he wondered if he had what it took. His mind raced to find the evidence that he deserved to stand next to the men around him. Jimmy looked around at the Marines who waited on the grinder with him. He was a Marine, the uniform said so but still, he wondered…

  Bringing a film of tears to his eyes, Jimmy pulled out a picture and rubbed his thumb over the image of two people. It was he and his brother standing next to each other. Taken after he’d graduated from Marine Corps Boot Camp in
a small ceremony; it was his favorite photograph.

  Every few seconds over the last six weeks; he thought of his flesh and blood, SSGT Mark Woolridge. Now, he saw the picture as never before. In that moment, Lance Cpl. Woolridge became proud; Yes, I deserve to be here… I am like him… I’m going into battle with my fellow Marines, my remaining brothers, like Mark would do… like he did…

  Frightened or not, deserve had nothing to do with it; Lance Cpl. Jimmy Woolridge was going. Unlike his brother; he wanted to come back from this fight standing under his own power.

  They brought back pieces of him, which was all that was left. A Ker ripped SSGT Woolridge’s limbs off and then caved his skull in after stomping on his head. Jimmy would never forget what his brother looked like when he saw him that day — a piece of flesh... For once, Jimmy was glad his parents were dead so they didn’t have to experience seeing the remains of their son. SSGT Mark Woolridge wasn’t even identifiable as human. After unzipping the body bag, Jimmy looked away. He quickly zipped the bag closed, wishing that he hadn’t looked.

  An officer approached the grinder.

  Captain Norman Banks was generally reserved. A powerful leader who commanded respect, he spoke only when words were needed. The officer was short and muscular and appeared more Gunnery SGT than officer brass. Capt. Banks walked through the crowd of Marines and noticed Lance Cpl. Jimmy Woolridge standing alone amongst the group. Coming up from behind, the officer stopped when he got to his young Marine. He saw the picture Jimmy was holding and thought what to say…

  “You ready Devil Dog?” Capt. Banks asked, gently grabbing his Lance Cpl. behind the neck.

  Feeling the powerful yet caring grip of calloused fingers below his hairline, Jimmy turned and looked at his commanding officer. Both men glanced down at the picture. Knowing Capt. Banks witnessed Mark’s death, Jimmy answered. “Yes sir.”

  Feeling phony for saying it, the young Marine grappled his nerves. Deserving to be here didn’t quell the fear that rose inside him. “Yes sir” was a partial lie, but still the proper answer for a Marine to give before going to war.

  “I’m ready, sir,” Jimmy stated with more conviction the second time.

  Capt. Banks looked at his young Lance Cpl. “Good son… need your head in the game,” he said through caring eyes.

  “Roger that, sir,” Lance Cpl. Woolridge affirmed.

  Capt. Banks left Jimmy’s side and walked onto a platform amidst the sounds of nervous Marines and took his place on the podium. Elevated, he scanned the group of men and paused... He swallowed and prepared to address the platoon… The officer whistled loud and the chatter stopped in an instant. All eyes turned toward the black officer, standing powerful in battle fatigues.

  “The Marines I have seen around the world have the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals of any group of animals I have ever seen. Thank God for the United States Marine Corps!”

  ― Eleanor Roosevelt

  “This is it gentlemen! Who’s ready to do this!?”

  The platoon shouted. “Ooh Rah!” It echoed in a wave through the Captain’s ears.

  “As most of you know, we’re heading south to Coronado. A small group of Navy SEALs are surrounded and pinned down. Got to help out our Navy brothers… Ooh Rah!”

  Erupting, the entire platoon shouted again. “Ooh Rah!” Sharp and fast, the response was like the precision march of a color guard.

  Capt. Banks paced on the platform energized while looking into the eyes of his Marines, shouting a chilling battle cry. “What makes the grass grow!?”

  “Blood! Blood! Blood!” the platoon wailed in an eerie chant, each word blowing like a trumpet blast through the Captain’s face.

  Officer Banks stopped and held his hands up with balled fists, preparing to speak again. “Marines! We’re going to teach these Ker a lesson! We’re going to melt their metal like rivers of blood!”

  “Ooh Rah!” the platoon responded then broke off into separate, competing conversations. “Waste those metal fuckers,” “Smash those shit cans!” “Let’s tear ‘em up!”

  Raising his hands, the Captain spread his fingers out to quiet down the platoon. It fell silent again after a few straggling words lingered in the California air.

  The Captain held up two fingers and paused to assure all eyes were on him before speaking again… “We’re going to hit the deck in two squads. The SEALs are cut off by one main road at the mouth of their base…”

  Captain Banks paused again before he spoke, stretching his right arm out. “One squad’s going to cover the northeast of the street. The other southwest,” he said, pointing his left, both arms stretched out as if an invisible force was crucifying him. The officer pointed both hands toward the Marines, pausing before bringing them back towards his chest. “The SEALs are going to come up the middle. When they’re running for their lives, we’re going to cover them from both sides,” he announced, pointing both arms out from his sides again. “Roger that?” he shouted, loudly clapping his powerful mitts together.

  “Ooh Rah…” The Marines affirmed in a solid, yet gentler response this time.

  “Load up!” Capt. Banks ordered, twirling his pointed finger high overhead.

  The platoon boarded two McDonald Douglass Vulcan helicopters. Jimmy thought of his brother and clutched the picture tightly as it bent under the rotor wash while climbing inside. After kissing it, he stuffed it deep in his left breast pocket and wedged between two Marines, taking his seat. The men piled in and sat with their barrels resting on the deck.

  Both Vulcans lifted off.

  Heading across Oceanside and Interstate-5, the war-birds swooped over the Pacific Ocean. Half of the platoon saw the sprawling hills through the porthole windows and the other half gazed at an endless blue ocean.

  Fully armed, the helicopters raced down the coastline in single file.

  Jimmy shifted between fear and excitement. He wanted to honor his brother. Although in the moments when his fear subsided, he wanted revenge. They reached Coronado in a flash. Both war-birds jutted over the sea before circling around to do a recon of the battered Navy SEAL Base.

  Twisting in their seats, the platoon looked out of the portholes while experiencing the g-forces of the banking Vulcans. Jesus… look at it, Jimmy thought. His fellow Marines saw it too, their hearts pounding with excitement. Smoke was coming up from the Coronado Golf course along with several other places. Fires raged and smoldered, thick and black. Toxic molecules rose up over the edge of Glorietta Bay.

  Like death hanging in the air, the burning soot seemed to look down at the SEAL’s compound.

  The SEAL Base was a manmade peninsula that stuck out into San Diego Bay like a rectangular concrete thumb. The surrounding water, ironic as it was, prevented the SEALs from escaping. The SEALs could swim but two things stopped them from doing so: they had a badly injured man, and the Ker were waiting for them on any shore they might reach. The frogmen were trapped. Fire raged from several of their boats that floated half-sunk in the water. Air escape was impossible, too. On the helo pad near the water’s edge, a Sikorsky UH-90 Night Hawk Helicopter sat in ruins; smoking, broken, and wilting like a rubber bug.

  Hearing the Marines flying overhead, the frogmen prepared for extract. “That’s them,” Petty Officer Deines shouted from inside the SEAL’s barracks. He ran outside and looked up… Seeing their saviors coming in hot, the Petty Officer, one of the six remaining SEALs, popped a yellow smoke grenade.

  Two Ker flanked around the edges of the peninsula and fired potshots from behind the buildings. The sailors continued to hold the Ker at bay, only seeing the metal bastards for a second when they’d pop their heads out to fire.

  “Let’s move out!” Petty Officer Deines ordered.

  Staying tight, the six-man SEAL Team left their barracks and headed outside. They held off the flanking Ker by laying down suppressive fire and ducking between the buildings of their smoldering base. Slower than normal, the SEALs did t
heir best while dragging an injured man.

  The Devil Dogs came in hot. Their helicopters descended and the Marines heard the sound of Navy SEAL gunfire growing louder. The frogmen’s weapons competed with the Ker’s 30mm cannons and photon blasts sucking through the air.

  CHAPTER 16 - DARKNESS DESCENDS

  “Listen, and understand. That terminator is out there. It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear.

  And it absolutely will not stop, ever,

  until you are dead.”

  - Kyle Reese

  Washington D.C.:

  Cy didn’t have a weapon, not that he was trained to use one. He needed to get out from under the rubble. If more Destroyers came, he couldn’t be trapped down inside the lab. Too late, he was found. Now, Cy would have to fight his way through.

  The Destroyer descended down the staircase and Cy prepared for battle. Grabbing a piece of rebar that was sticking out of the mangled concrete near the base of the steps, Cy wiggled it until it broke free. He jumped to the other side of the staircase where a wall was still partially intact, waiting and standing with iron in his fist.

  Vibrations went through every molecule of the lab as the Ker walked down the steps.

  Dust fell from the ceiling and landed in Cy’s hair and the building shook around him. Pounding it down, the Ker banged silt loose and freed grit from the crevasses with each heavy step. Cy waited, breathing… Although, his breathing wasn’t actually breathing, it was an advanced cooling system. Expelling heat on the way out, Cy’s breaths pushed away falling dust like he’d opened up an ancient book and blew on its pages.

  Cy studied his surroundings, surveying and waiting with iron-clinched bar. The Ker knew Cy was inside. Halfway down, the Ker became fully aware of where the young cyborg was standing.

  After reaching the bottom step, the Ker immediately turned to engage. The cyborg was fast. Cy saw the edge of the Destroyer come into view and took his shot. He swung the metal bar aiming for the Ker’s rifle before it could fire a shot.