Clio and Cy: The Apocalypse

by Christopher Lee

  “Let’s go Cy,” the scientist ordered after climbing in. “You know how to do this, right?”

  “You know I do Dr. Marcus.”

  “Well, knowing something in your head isn’t the same as, really knowing it,” Dr. Pressfield stated. “You know what I mean?”

  “Dr. Marcus, that doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “Just because you read about something in a book doesn’t mean you know how to do it, Cy.”

  “It does for me Dr. Marcus.”

  Dr. Pressfield knew the cyborg was correct. If Cy knew something, well, he knew. His creation didn’t need repetition to perfect skills that he learned in theory. He knew the proper amount of push, the right amount of pull, the perfect amount of tug, and give. Cy knew it, and he knew how to drive.

  “This is fun Dr. Marcus,” Cy announced, staring through the windshield, driving.

  “Slow down now… come on. That’s a little too fast for me,” Dr. Pressfield argued.

  “I’m sorry Dr. Marcus.”

  CHAPTER 43 - DREAM SMELLING

  “All that we see or seem is but a dream

  within a dream.”

  ― Edgar Allan Poe

  Just outside RMB Jackson:

  It was overcast but visibility was good in the fading hours of the late morning. The base wasn’t in sight yet but they could smell it now. The charred aroma that filled both their nostrils wasn’t from a burnt forest fire. It was coming from the RMB. The distinct smell of chemicals and melted materials filled the air just as the truck entered the start of a sharp bend.

  “It kind of smells like a campfire,” Clio stated. “My dad used to take me when I was little.”

  “You like camping?” Russ asked.

  “Yes. We’d go fishing and I caught the biggest fish my dad said he ever saw… I liked sleeping inside a tent too. It was fun…”

  The odor of dead bodies began mixing in the air. Russ knew what the horrible stench was from; he knew it all too well. He hoped Clio didn’t know what it was. Little girls shouldn’t know such things; hell, no one should. Although, he knew young Clio was about to find out. He began questioning more than ever, whether this trip was a good idea. The things that she was about to see, what that awful smell was from, the possible discovery of Clio’s dead mother adding to the horror of this whole thing. All the bad things she was about to experience, in a way, were his fault. No turning back now though, they were almost there.

  Clio smelled the stench of rotting flesh but decided to keep quiet about her observation. She didn’t want to know what could produce such a horrible odor; it was evil and foreign. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good, she was sure of that.

  The images of her mother began pounding at her door as she sensed the RMB was close. Like a homing pigeon, somehow, she knew where it was. It was as if she’d once dreamed about walking down these same tracks to meet her mother in the middle of them, just outside the RMB, knowing its landmarks the entire way. Maybe it was her guardian angel that planted the seeds of knowledge into her head, as if, maybe, God was finally helping her.

  Clio’s chest knocked with the thoughts of her mother in an audible, very real thud. Strange visions hovered in front of her as if they desired protection. The images were sentient beings, floating around her, desperately wanting to take shelter inside the twelve-year-old’s soul, needing to escape a terrible, outside evil.

  Jesus, Russ thought. Look at that shit… The RMB and what was left of its war zone came into focus. It was little more than a pile of ash and rubble. Clio’s heart sank as she saw it, too.

  Her dream was real… The base was right where she thought it would be, but it looked quite different from the last time she’d seen her home from the outside. The RMB was a smoldering junkyard. The twisted steel and crushed buildings were now a reminder of a lopsided battle that ensued only days before. The Resistance’s ground was a devil’s graveyard and a sobering reminder of what humans are capable of doing to each other, via their instruments of death.

  Russ drove alongside the base, traversing a variety of broken obstacles that covered the earth and grass. Clio’s eyes ran from one end of the base to the other, as she began feeling the heat from things still burning deep underground, permeating up. When the realization settled that her home was gone, so too did her tears begin to settle, along her lower lids, falling down... Her eyes welled and the drops fell out in fat crocodile tears as she tried to locate her house. Where is it? She wondered as her eyes darted.

  Frantic, Clio couldn’t find it. There wasn’t one identifiable marker to indicate the place where her home once sat.

  “There,” she said, pointing off in the distance after seeing something familiar.

  It was an ancient oak tree that she knew well. Clio tried to carve her initials in its bark when she was nine, giving up after producing only chicken scratch, realizing that she didn’t have the strength, or a sharp enough blade, to score her name legibly.

  Russ traversed the side of the ruins, praying that there were no Ker lurking about. They finally got this place, he thought.

  Russ was aware of the Ker but had yet to see one in person. Fine by him… He only saw video images of them on the news, in the last few days when the news, still aired.

  Clio jumped out and walked over to the place where she thought her house used to rest, not really sure if it was the right spot. Russ got out and walked over to Clio, clueless about what to say. The thirteen-year-old pushed her hands into her face and cried. She pictured her mother crushed beneath the rubble, images of her burning to death, starving, being killed by a Ker, how did she die? The thoughts tormented the young girl.

  Sometimes there are no words; Russ knew the best thing was to remain silent. He reached for her, wrapping his arms around this beautiful creature.

  Russ felt Clio push away from him and look up in defiant anger. With bloodshot eyes, she stared, holding on to his arms. Instantly, her tears stopped and she scanned over the horizon. The old man noticed a look in Clio’s eyes that he’d never seen from her before. Murderous gaze fired out of them with laser beam focus. Russ waited for her to speak. Knowing words of hatred would surely spring out from her mouth like a poison well any second.

  She didn’t say a word and her expression suddenly cooled. Clio’s eyes changed from vengeance to something different. She noticed a familiar thing in the distance and took off in a mad dash.

  “Where you going?” Russ asked just before he chased after the girl.

  Clio didn’t respond and Russ struggled to keep up, fearing that she was running off for good. “Slow down!” he shouted.

  Suddenly, she stopped. Clio bent down and picked up a sweater that was resting next to a tree. Her eyes inspected the cloth before burying her face into it, the smell of her mother drowned out the death around her. No bodies were in sight, but Russ knew death was all around them, all trapped under the rubble and hidden from young eyes, he hoped.

  Eyes shut; Clio sniffed the sweater with her mouth open, breathing, wanting to taste her mother’s skin. Feeling only bits of cloth on her tongue as her tears soaked the undeniable garment. With a thousand memories, she lowered it, inspecting the soft shape that lay across her hands. The old man was beside her now, breathing hard.

  Russ leaned in and rested his palm on the tree that towered over them both, noticing the faint carvings in its bark that were evidently scored by young hands. Watching and wondering about the piece of clothing, the old man stood over her and his chest began to calm.

  “We can’t stay here much longer,” Russ offered in a gentle tone, looking around for signs of danger.

  Clio knew it was true; they couldn’t stay there much longer. She didn’t want to leave though. And now, after finding the sweater, she searched for her mother in a daughter’s tender heart, harder than ever, now filled with hope.

  “Ok,” Clio answered, wanting to search the surrounding woods.

  Suddenly, a mirage appeared, walking like a dream.

 
Russ noticed it first and pointed his weapon, wondering if it were a hallucination. A shape came out of the woods and crossed over the tree line barrier in the distance. After the old man’s sudden movements jolted her to look in the same direction, Clio saw it too. She aimed her pistol with the sweater draped around her wrist. The shape came into focus as it moved across the open field between them.

  It was human. Staggering out of the woods, there was a person walking toward them. Clio and Russ marched forward as Lady was already halfway to the woman. She collapsed to the ground and Lady began sniffing her as she reached up and felt the dog’s fur. Not wagging her tail as if she sensed the delicate state of the fallen human, Lady looked back at Russ and Clio. The mystery woman and dog waited for their arrival.

  Russ and Clio kneeled down on either side of the elderly woman. She was badly bruised and covered in dried blood. Clio noticed that the woman’s left arm was broken. The bones weren’t coming through the skin but they were giving it one hell of a try. Her hand was mangled worse than her arm, fingers going in different directions, as if a safe full of alligators had fallen on them.

  “We’ve got you,” Russ said.

  “Is there anyone else?” Clio asked, searching for signs of life through the tree line.

  “They took them,” the old woman responded.

  Clio didn’t recognize her and she searched over the woman’s blood stained face, desperately wanting to know about her mother.

  “Who… Took who?” Russ asked cradling the woman’s head.

  “The robots took them,” The woman responded in a whisper.

  “What?” Clio asked. “Who did they take?”

  Russ and Clio both leaned in closer, turning their ears toward her wrinkled mouth, sensing the woman was drifting away.

  “The robots… they took the others away with them…”

  “How many?” Russ asked caressing the woman’s hair, seeing the fear in her eyes.

  “I don’t know… only a few…” she responded even softer, weaker.

  “Was my mother one of them?” Clio asked much louder than necessary.

  “There was a woman…” the battered lady responded, not knowing Clio’s mother but understanding it was the best answer she could give.

  “It’s ok, we’ve got you,” Russ said.

  “No… I’m ready to go now,” the woman responded behind a smile as her eyes gazed upward, reflecting the clouds off them like tiny mirrors.

  Clio got on her elbow and placed her hand on the woman’s chest, feeling it gently rise and fall. “What did she look like?” Clio asked.

  The women opened her mouth to respond. Clio realized the woman’s hand wasn’t moving anymore. No more answers came after the life evaporated from the glassy windows of her soul. She was gone.

  “Hooooowwww!”

  Russ and Clio heard the distance sounds of a creature and realized the “Ssshhhhaaa,” hissing sound was getting closer.

  After feeling the weapon of hope arming her every fiber, Clio almost wanted them to come. With the possibility of her mother being alive, she would kill every retched creature if that was what it took. She’d wade through mountains of monster guts to find her mother.

  CHAPTER 44 - LIGHTS

  “People often believed they were safer in the light, thinking monsters only came out at night.”

  ― C.J. Roberts

  RMB Pendleton:

  1:37am:

  Lance Cpl. Jimmy Woolridge, as usual, couldn’t sleep. The young Marine stood outside like he always did at night. Frustrated, but still enjoying the quiet moments alone. He looked over the shadows of fallen trees that were left from the storm. It blew hard the night before but everything was for the most part, where it should be. His heart sighed, last of the dip he thought, pinching it out of the can and in between his gums. It soured his mouth and the juices flowed. Turning his head to spit, Jimmy noticed something.

  Two Marines quietly did a roving patrol, not recognizing the lights, if you could even call them that. They were barely detectible to the naked eye. Lance Cpl. Woolridge noticed them though.

  What is that? The lights appeared to be moving… far away from where he was standing. He rubbed his eyes and spit again, squinting. Probably nothing he thought, looking away. Jimmy turned his head and looked at them again. Goddamn, that is something… what the hell is that…?

  Those blue lights were real; he couldn’t deny it, seeing them in the dark — plain as day. Although he wasn’t sure… are those lights getting closer? Blinking like a strobe on an aircraft wing, they glowed but didn’t seem to change in size. Jimmy spit again; maybe they are getting bigger, wondering if they were even moving at all. I don’t know…?

  His senses began to tingle. Spider senses were what he and his fellow Marines called them. Lance Cpl. Woolridge didn’t alert the roving patrol because they were far away from his position. He didn’t want to yell across the grinder. No need to wake people up and scare the shit out of them if it turned out to be nothing. Can’t let this slide though, he thought. Maybe those things are getting bigger? He spit again before heading toward Capt. Bank’s berthing quarters.

  “Sir… Sir…” Jimmy said, nudging his officer. Capt. Banks rose up like the dead. He was in the middle of a nightmare and after popping up, still thought he was in a bad dream.

  The dream lingered until Capt. Banks realized the dampness of his own sweat. As his eyes began to adjust, so too did his senses, pulling him further into the real world, feeling his wet sheets. He thought that he’d woken because, whoever was shaking him right now, saying “sir,” saw him tossing and turning, wanting to save him from the obvious nightmare.

  “Who’s it?” Capt. Banks responded.

  “It’s me sir. Woolridge…”

  “What’s going on Woolridge?”

  “Need you to see something outside sir.”

  Capt. Banks smartly got out of bed and then dressed. He laced his boots and followed behind Woolridge, wearing only his t-shirt up top. Under the twinkling stars of a clear, post storm sky, both men walked across the grinder. The coolness blew the cobwebs out of Capt. Banks as he searched for anything out of place.

  Sure of it, Woolridge realized the lights were brighter and more intense. “They’re bigger now sir,” Jimmy stated, pointing at them.

  “Marine!” Capt. Banks shouted in a whisper at the roving security watch. “Sir.” both responded as they hustled over.

  “You don’t see that?” Capt. Banks asked, pointing off at the glowing blue lights.

  “I see it sir,” responded one Marine. “Yes sir,” the other duty affirmed.

  Annoyed, Capt. Banks looked at both men. “Everyone up!” he ordered. “Don’t sound the alarm, but get every Marine on his feet in full gear. I want them locked and loaded! Now!”

  “Roger that sir!” they responded before heading off for each barracks. “You too Woolridge!”

  “Roger that sir,” Jimmy confirmed. Lance Cpl. Woolridge headed for his barracks and then stopped. The SEALs he thought and then headed to warn them.

  Barging through the door, Lance Cpl. Woolridge flipped the lights on. Some of the men began to stir when he walked to Petty Officer Deines’s bunk.

  “Hey, wake up. Hey sailor, wake up…” Jimmy said, shaking Petty Officer Deines’s shoulder. Since he’d forgotten the SEAL’s name, Woolridge didn’t know what to call him.

  Deines rose up out of a dead sleep. “What…who is it?” the SEAL asked, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

  “It’s Woolridge… guy from the gym.”

  “What the hell is going on Marine?”

  There are some lights outside and they’re coming our way. “Lights?” Deines asked.

  “Yeah.” Woolridge affirmed.

  “What kind of lights?”

  “Come on, wake up and get your gear on,” Woolridge announced.

  “Boom! Boom! Crash!”

  Before the men were finished gearing up, the first shots from the Super Destroyer’s ra
ilgun hit the base. The Marines shouted and hurried in a panic as more shots were fired, shaking the world around them. Running outside, the men wondered what in the hell had that kind of firepower.

  “Boom! Boom!”

  The Marines saw them and nearly shit in their pants. Flanked by several Ker, like steeds from the apocalypse, four giant insects were in sight.

  “Contact left! Contact left! … Right! Contact right!” Drowned out by the sound of combat, men shouted at the waves of mechanized killers descending on them. Metal insects were splattering bodies with a single shot.

  Four Super Destroyers, which was all the Dr. Pavlov could produce so far, were surrounded by dozens of Ker. The machine’s tracer rounds zipped, blazing a path and lighting the sky amidst glowing blue eyes. As if thousands of flaming arrows pierced through the darkness, men and machine went to war.

  The Marines and SEALs fired at will. The Ker went down from the heavier weapons but the Super Destroyers kept coming. Capt. Banks stood his ground after leading a group of men against the closest bug gaining inside the base. The Ker flanked the metal insects as every Destroyer fired and moved closer.

  Burning through a fifty round mag, Lance Cpl. Woolridge shot from his knee, as other Marines fired by his side. Their barrels smoked and men were exploding into bloody vapor mist.

  The SEALs noticed the fourth group of bots coming in. An insect came from over the mountains as if it had crawled in from the ocean like a sea monster. Imo limped out of the BAS and hobbled inside the barracks to gear up. Shooting from the hip and aiming the best he could, he came out firing while still dressing.

  Woolridge saw Capt. Banks in the distance. The Super Destroyer powered its railgun and fired. The air charged and the heavens illuminated when its missile burned through the sky at eight times the speed of sound.

  Woolridge saw it happening in slow motion. “Boom!”

  The railgun exploded projectiles into Capt. Banks and the men around him. Jimmy felt the earth stop, experiencing every second as if it were an hour. Gripped in terror, he didn’t scream, firing at the wave coming at him, still trying to check for survivors out of his peripheral. Rounds bounced off the giant bugs and the sound of ricocheting bullets tinged through the star filled night.