Clio and Cy: The Apocalypse

by Christopher Lee

  Distracting it, Cy waved his arms and the creature focused on the cyborg.

  Dr. Pressfield could feel the wicked energy vibrating off the humanoid while it stayed coiled. Full of teeth and claws, the beast looked like a rocket made of flesh and sinew. Lift off… The monster dug its paws like a track star and sprang forward.

  Marcus watched it gain on them in the suspension of liquid time, frozen. Barreling like a runaway comet intended on crashing earth, it was within feet of them. Marcus firmly put his back to a vehicle and pushed against it as if he were trying to slide if off the road.

  The creature launched at them and reached out, intending on moving the cyborg to the side so it could eat the fear covered treat. Cy grabbed the creature’s wrists at thirty frames per second, leaving trails off his movements through the air. Flying and tumbling out of control, the creature and Cy both zoomed by Dr. Pressfield. He watched overcome with terror and almost wet himself, still pressed against the vehicle. The beast wanted to grab Marcus but Cy’s grip prevented the demon from clutching his creator.

  Kicking fear’s ass, or fueled by it, Marcus broke from his terror and ran. His eyes filled with tears from the putrid smell of the colossal humanoid. Hearing them struggle behind, he sprinted forward and worried about Cy with each step. He feared for his young cyborg’s life between each stride, not daring to look back yet, fearing for his own self, too. Dr. Pressfield fell down just before he reached the Range Rover. He stumbled back to his feet with wind knocked out of him, gasping in pain. Sucking like a croaker on the shore, he turned back to see his cyborg while his mouth tried to draw in air to no avail.

  “Get in the vehicle Dr. Marcus!” Cy shouted.

  Dr. Pressfield wrapped his fingers around the door handle and watched Cy chasing behind the monster. Uh oh!

  The beast had already broken free of Cy’s grip and was heading for the scientist. Marcus’s lungs came back slowly, as if tiny holes were punched through invisible clear plastic that covered his face. Death was coming for him and carrying with it a distinct sound, Marcus could hear the beastly breaths as the monster barreled closer.

  Cy pursued the fang-toothed locomotive, hot on its tail. Like a runaway, the horrible thing had no choice in where it was going, instinctively pulled toward Dr. Marcus Pressfield.

  Marcus flung the door open and let things inside the Range Rover breath for the first time in seven years, thankful that it was unlocked… A pile of sun faded clothes mixed with dried bones piled on the driver’s seat. Leather blended with the staleness of the dead remains, smelling it after he stuck his head in. Marcus frantically scooped the people left overs into the highway and flung the jeans and shirt out after. Still fighting for breath, he climbed up and tasted the air particles that drifted in his mouth. “Click.” Dr. Pressfield locked the doors.

  The smell of the vehicle filled his nose while he leaned forward and flipped the auxiliary power switch. “Ahh!” startled, Marcus screamed and jerked. German Techno music scared the shit out of him after it blared from the speakers, as he fumbled to turn it off. Jesus that crap was loud… With an unsteady hand, he reached to push the ignition button. “Wham!” The vehicle jerked hard, sending debris hurling and terrifying the monkey piss out of Dr. Pressfield.

  The monster crashed into the back of the Range Rover, sending Marcus’s head on a whip lash ride. The vehicle powered down as if someone twisted a light switch dimmer. Dr. Pressfield continued pressing the ignition button but it wouldn’t start. “Why the hell won’t this thing start!” he shouted pressing the button over and over. “Come on! Start! Start damn you!”

  Cy mounted the woozy creature that lay on the ground below the massive U shaped dent in the SUV’s body. The cyborg rained down shots to the humanoid’s skull while it fought for consciousness under the barrage of Gatling gun like punches.

  The demon creature threw Cy forward after it tasted enough blows, sending the cyborg flying like a rabid house cat. Cy smashed into the grill of the car directly behind the Range Rover, leaving an equally impressive dent. Wanting to grab Cy and remove this pesky annoyance once and for all, the beast reached out and lunged forward. Cy grabbed the monster’s wrists and held on while the beast attempted to break free. Lift off!

  The creature launched the cyborg over the Range Rover sending him airborne. After sailing high, Cy descended toward the vehicle and spiking down hard.

  Touchdown… “Crash!”

  “Cy!” Dr. Pressfield yelled as he watched a flash land on the hood, realizing it was his friend.

  “Don’t worry Dr. Marcus. It’s going to be ok,” Cy spoke while gazing through the front windshield.

  Dr. Pressfield realized why the vehicle wouldn’t start after looking out the driver’s side window. The key was on the ground next to the bones, too far away for the ignition to pick up its signal. Debris from the fight must have knocked it out of range. No way was he getting out with that thing out there, which at the moment, he couldn’t see. Cy climbed off the hood…

  Suddenly, the demon appeared. It was at the driver’s side window, squatting down so it could get eye level with Dr. Pressfield. “Ssshhhhaaa!” it hissed and looked into Dr. Pressfield’s eyes, and then tilted its head toward the sun making strange ticking sounds.

  The creature’s gaze descended down and stared inside at Marcus, as it pulled the door handle.

  Amazing, as it was, the realization the monster knew enough to operate the door handle was put on the back burner. Marcus Pressfield leaned into the passenger seat to get the fuck away from the evil thing. I need to signal for Cy to pick up the key. Startled, Marcus jumped after a streaking blur caught him off guard and flashed by.

  “Jesus!” Marcus’s thought about the key was interrupted by his cyborg slamming into the side of the monster like a linebacker. They both disappeared from sight.

  Marcus looked in the rear view mirror and watched Cy drag the creature by one of its ankles between the rows of cars.

  “Grab the key Dr. Marcus,” Cy instructed.

  He doesn’t miss a thing, Dr. Pressfield thought looking in the side mirror, watching Cy drag the creature farther away.

  Slowing their progress, the demon clawed against the cars. Cy dragged the rancid smelling thing a good fifty yards before it dug its people shredders into a tire.

  Marcus hit the locks and jumped out, running on rubber legs toward the key. After picking it up, he noticed the creature had broken free of Cy’s grip and was heading for him. Jesus Christ this thing wants to kill me! Hate this fucking thing!

  “Screw this!” Dr. Pressfield said as he jumped in and hit the locks while simultaneously pushing the ignition. “Vrrrooom… vroom, vroom…” the motor came to life, delaying for a moment, sputtering, then responding with a roar as Marcus pushed his foot against the gas pedal.

  Cy chased from behind and tackled the creature low, causing it to face plant between the cars. Dr. Pressfield shouted inside the car while still watching in the side mirror.

  “Come on Cy! Run!” he screamed, seeing his cyborg leap over the creature in a blinding sprint toward the SUV. Stabilizing itself back together, the monster was quickly in pursuit. Motoring like a run-away freight train, it stayed on all fours and raced toward the vehicle, digging out chips of concrete with its claws.

  “Click.” Dr. Pressfield unlocked the doors and Cy planted next to the passenger door before jumping in. “Click.” Doors locked.

  The monster tried to slow itself coming alongside the SUV, sliding and clawing at the doors with the piercing sound of its nails scraping off the metal. It tumbled out in front the vehicle and Marcus released the emergency brake before putting it in drive.

  The creature stood up and hissed toward the sky. As if the monster was going to attack the truck and take it head on, it leaned back and spread its arms wide and set.

  “Hold on Cy!” Pressfield shouted, pressing the gas pedal to the floor.

  Marcus noticed, what he thought anyway, a bit of bewilderment on the monster’s
face. Right before the Range Rover slammed into the creature, Dr. Pressfield could swear he saw the unmistakable look of surprise emit off the beast’s reflective eyeballs. That’s right; you should have got the fuck out of the way! Marcus thought, gripping the steering wheel and tromping the gas.

  The SUV crashed into the creature’s body, dragging it while he kept it floored. “That’s right you son of a bitch!” Marcus shouted and gunned the throttle. Cy looked over like he was watching his dad do something insane, yet fun.

  Marcus rammed another vehicle, pinning the monster between car and truck. “Crash!” The Range Rover jolted off the ground, exploding gel foam inside its cockpit.

  CHAPTER 36 - DARKNESS STORMS

  “He turned to look just in time to see the rain start falling out as if the storm had finally decided to weep with shame for what it had done to them.”

  ― James Dashner

  RMB Pendleton:

  The sky darkened as if the cosmos suddenly enveloped the earth. Shadows swallowed the light and forced the plummeting gray of a false, early dusk. Jagged bolts of lightning shot down amidst the sounds of distant thunder, cracking loud.

  With the door open behind him, Petty Officer Deines stood outside on the front step of his new home. His team was sleeping in their racks and dreaming of a storm. The leading edges of the hurricane’s wind crept inside the barracks like invisible reconnaissance probes searching for the enemy. Stirring over their warm snoring breath, the air molecules scouted and spied before going down, invading inside SEAL throats. One of the men adjusted in his bunk, unconsciously feeling the temperature drop and cool over his skin.

  Remaining outside, Deines leaned back and shut the door just as raindrops began reaching all things exposed. Their gentle sounds splashing against the dry ground somehow seemed to wash away the storm’s threatening nature. Wondering if any of them were alive, he thought about his family.

  The Navy SEAL wished the rain would fall harder and scrub his memory clean. He wanted the water to fall like mortars and carry away all the bad things he was holding inside, far away and out of sight forever with the mounting winds. At the moment, amnesia seemed like a beautiful idea. It was all a pipe dream, he could never forget those that were lost, or those he speculated may be gone.

  The elite men of the world aren’t impervious to pain and suffering as some might think. He knew that all too well. The strength of his boundary to fight off mental anguish fell short of his fortitude to endure physical pain. A few years into the war, Gary Deines admitted that fact. Memories of the countless dead haunted his thoughts. Polarized, he was hard on the outside and soft inside, feeling vulnerable and weak in certain moments. This war had raged for far too long.

  How do you defeat a warrior’s spirit? Feed him nothing but war, Deines heard someone say once. Maybe I read it? he thought.

  Warriors need to give love as much as they need to be loved. Elite men that have served throughout history have always needed humor, song, and the whimsical entertainments of those not like them. Just like the poet needs to be more like the warrior, the elite must be provided certain things not innate to them. Like the big meal that reassures soldiers before battle, the court jester nourishes their soul.

  Just as laughter strengthens him, love of those worth fighting for also lends him the power to stare death in the face and risk it all. For those they love, for the protection of the greater good, for the things mysteriously contained in the hearts of poets, of clowns and story tellers, those things that are so far from who they could ever be – warriors, for that cause, have always greeted death without an ounce of regret.

  Everything in the universe strives for balance, whether it realizes it or not. Petty Officer Deines was hard pressed to find anyone left alive that was, balanced. For the handful of Navy SEALs now occupying the old 1st Recon Battalion berthing quarters, court jesters and entertainers were in short supply. Humor and all things soft and wonderful were needed now more than ever. And now, Petty Officer Deines had more to bear.

  There’s not a Navy SEAL alive who isn’t self-sufficient but they came to him for this and that. His men needed him. Deines was in charge now and it was to be expected. But knowing something in your head is usually far different than experiencing it firsthand. It was just a bit more weight piled on top of the ton he already carried.

  For Petty Officer Deines, the role of Commanding Officer was like that last box someone lobs on top of an already high stack, as you walk to wherever you’re going. Now blind, thanks to the jackass that put it there, in his case he carried the tonnage the Ker bestowed upon him. They all carried it, the SEALs, the Marines, each man and woman still left – they wandered under the burden, blindly wondering what the future held. Thrown into it with little experience, he’d have to fake his way through being an interim Commanding Officer. He could handle it, I got it, he thought. No choice, I have to…

  The rain stalled to a trickle and lifted his face skyward, feeling fat drops fade to tiny sprinkles, tickling lightly against his skin. Deines smelled the ocean as a strong wind blew in from the west and swayed his body. Air drifted through the RMB. Mother Nature calmed. It won’t last he thought, looking up into the stygian sky with misty specs landing on his exposed eyeballs. It’s going to open up again, he thought, looking down and swirling his aching foot.

  He took off walking in a brisk trot toward the base gym. The Petty Officer wasn’t sure why he was walking with such intent, which made him stop out in the open to think…

  Illuminating the sky, lightning appeared and blazed down on the other side of a nearby building. “Boom!” thunder followed and he witnessed several bolts zip down in silence, and then erupt under cloud-covered explosion.

  “Crack! Crack!” electrified the air in delayed succession as another group of bolts shot down. His hair was charged and he took off jogging as if running in a full sprint was too wussy.

  “Crack! Crack!” more lightning bolts lit the sky and scorched the earth a few miles away, feeling much closer. He picked up the pace while glancing overhead, seeing more lightning bolts and feeling the energy. They appeared to retreat into the heavens, back toward Zeus’s hand. Not shy about wanting to get inside, he made it to the entrance of the base gym like a pussy.

  Lance Cpl. Jimmy Woolridge was training inside the gym. The sounds of the gods didn’t affect his work out as he went from station to station. Noticing the SEAL open the gym’s front door, the Marine continued his strength building, focused.

  Deines glanced back at the ever-falling, ever-darkening sky and watched it pull the sopping clouds closer to earth. It started pouring. Knew it was going to rain again, he thought and wiped his muddy boots off on a coarse welcome mat.

  He vaguely remembered the face of the Marine that was working out in the distance. Observing the youngster train, Petty Officer Deines enjoyed the thought of meeting someone new. As nutty as they were, the thought of meeting the Marine’s gave his soul some much-needed hope.

  Breathing heavy, Lance Cpl. Woolridge dropped down from the dip bar with his hands still resting on the steel tubes. He looked up and noticed Deines standing across from him.

  “Good workout?” Petty Officer Deines asked.

  “Yeah,” Jimmy answered. His heavy breathing was only audible to the men inside gym. They were the only two.

  “Always good to stay in shape,” Deines stated… feeling a bit dorky for saying it. The kid was a Marine; he knew working out was important.

  “The stronger I am, the better I am… the more of those bastards I can kill…” Woolridge responded.

  Deines felt the energy that poured out of Lance Cpl. Wooldridge’s words. It was anger. He saw it in his eyes. Petty Officer Deines sensed something else, revenge; it was hanging in the air. Sharp and deadly, like the lightning bolts filling the sky above them, the emotion was equally as scorching. Easy to recognize something so powerful when you have similar emotions.

  “I wanted to say thank you,” Petty Officer Deines announced.
He intended on thanking every Marine who flew on the rescue mission. They’d saved his life and the lives of the only family he had left.

  Thanking them… It was a worthy goal. As important as love and laughter are to a Navy SEAL, to any man, so is reaching each new mountaintop, no matter how small, or how high. Goals were still vital for feeling alive, more so in their pursuit than achieving them. Might as well be dead if there is nothing to shoot for…

  “I don’t deserve your thanks,” Jimmy said as he jumped back up on the dip bar and held his body up with strength, preparing to go down.

  “Sure you do,” Deines responded.

  The Marine continued pumping. “I was scared shitless if you want to know the truth,” Jimmy puffed out and his body went down and up. “Shitless,” he said, pausing after locking out at the top of a rep.

  “There’d be something wrong with any man, in my opinion, who isn’t scared when going into battle. Fear isn’t a bad thing. It’s kept me alive more than once…” Petty Officer Deines said, hoping his tidbit of wisdom sunk into the Marine.

  “Ten. Eleven. Twelve,” Jimmy hissed through pursed lips as he jumped off the rack. “I wasn’t scared the whole time,” he said after landing on his feet.

  “Good,” Petty Officer Deines responded, wondering where the kid was going with the conversation.

  “You know something?” Jimmy asked.

  “What’s that?”

  “That’s when I almost got killed…”

  “When?”

  “When I wasn’t scared,” Jimmy said in a revelation.

  “Oh,” Deines said, appearing to agree with the Marine as he shook his head up and down while not knowing exactly what he was agreeing with.