Obliteration

by James S. Murray

  “You got booze?” Cindy asked.

  Mike smiled. “Does a shark have a waterproof nose?”

  “What?”

  “Forget about it. There’s a minibar.”

  It’s expensive.

  So what? I’ll take the hit to impress her.

  His excitement grew as they neared his room. He’d previously had no luck at the tables or the slots. Five hundred bucks, hosed in under two hours. Something he couldn’t really afford with a wife and two kids back in Michigan. After his losing streak, he’d hung around the bar. Six rejections later, he’d met Cindy, a fitness instructor from Tyler, Texas. They’d immediately hit it off, talking about their love of action movies and barbecue.

  Cindy and he had talked for half an hour. It felt like he’d known her for years. It was like she understood what he was all about. She had an insight into the male psyche that he’d never encountered before. She knew what men were about, clearly.

  Here goes.

  Mike placed his key card against the door. He opened it and waved Cindy inside with the flourish of a ringmaster. “After you, madam.”

  She frowned at him. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

  “Only had five Moscow mules,” he replied proudly. “I could have easily had six.”

  She shook her head and entered the room.

  Mike closed the door behind him and spun to face her. Sure, the high-roller suite at Circus Circus had cost him only one hundred bucks, but it was the best room in the hotel, with a living area, a separate bedroom, and a huge bathroom.

  Cindy peered around. “Is this really the presidential suite?”

  Mike nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Which president? Carter?” Cindy sassed back. She slipped off her purse and reached for the zip on the back of her dress.

  Holy shit, this is happening . . .

  “Oh, one last thing . . .” Cindy said while unzipping her dress.

  “Anything for you, baby.”

  “You need to pay up front.”

  Mike’s eyes widened. “Oh . . . uh . . . excuse me?”

  “That’s standard here in Vegas, baby. It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

  “Oh . . . you’re . . . uh . . . working right now?”

  Cindy rolled her eyes. “Does a shark have a waterproof nose?”

  Mike hadn’t realized. The revelation momentarily hurt his ego. He imagined the bums in the casino bar laughing after he’d left. He’d given most of them a triumphant grin on the way past, like he’d been the victor in their unspoken competition. He might have even given one the finger.

  “Uh, yeah. So how much are we talking?” he asked.

  “Depends on what you want.”

  Mike did fast math in his head. Five hundred lost on the casino floor, a hundred for the room, five Moscow mules, pay-per-view last night to watch that new hidden-camera comedy movie that just came out, UberX from the airport . . .

  Damn, adds up fast.

  “Um . . . two hundred?” he replied.

  She shook her head and held up one hand. “That’s what you get. I’m gonna use the bathroom first.”

  “Okay, um, it’s right through there.”

  Cindy sauntered through to the bedroom and headed for the bathroom.

  Excitement rose inside him, a feeling he hadn’t experienced since his last “business” trip. He stripped naked and slipped on a terry cloth bathrobe, leaving it loosely fastened around his waist. Mike checked himself out in the mirror. He sucked in and puffed out his chest.

  A clatter of noise came from the bathroom, followed by silence.

  “Hey,” he shouted. “You all right in there?”

  “You need to pay up front,” Cindy’s voice said from behind the closed door.

  This sent a wave of irritation through him. If she planned on talking turkey all the way through their experience, it promised to be a total turnoff.

  “Okay, I get it,” he replied, opening his wallet and counting out two hundred dollars. That left eighty dollars in his wallet. Plenty for the taxi back to the airport and maybe another pay-per-view tonight. He had already maxed out his credit card, so reception would have to take cash. He was dying to watch Anaconda again.

  Then, her identical voice again, from behind the bathroom door. “You need to pay up front,” she repeated.

  “I said I get it,” he said, annoyed.

  Mike entered the bedroom, attempting to push her parroted comment to the back of his mind. The crisp ivory sheets had been spread to one side, and her dress lay across the top of them. He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to finish whatever she was doing in the bathroom.

  He reached across to the bedside cabinet and grabbed the half-drunk glass of wine he’d left there the previous night. It tasted warm and sour as it gushed down his throat. He squeezed one eye shut, wincing.

  “You need to pay up front,” she called again.

  “What the frick?” Mike replied.

  He strode over to the bathroom and flung the door open, ready to demand that she leave his suite immediately. Enough was enough.

  The large bathroom had a mirrored shower to the side. No water was running. Cindy wasn’t on the toilet or at the sink. The curtain was drawn across the bath at the far end and had stains across its white surface.

  What the hell has she done?

  Mike stormed over and swept the curtain to one side. Cindy lay slumped in the bathtub, eyes rolled back in her head. She had huge slash marks across her stomach, and a shallow pool of blood lapped against the lower parts of her body.

  He clasped a hand over his mouth to stifle his scream.

  How? Suicide?

  What do I do now?

  He glanced up for signs of any security cameras. None.

  They’ll think I did it . . .

  What do I tell my wife?

  Mike spun to face the bathroom door. He needed to think this through.

  As he turned, a massive black creature exploded through the mirrored shower door. Blood dripped from its razor-sharp teeth. Its tail whipped from side to side as it advanced toward him, blocking off his escape.

  Mike stumbled back in shock. His legs hit the bath and he collapsed. His backside crashed against Cindy’s wounded stomach and he whacked his head on the edge of the tub. His eyes went hazy, possibly from a concussion. Cindy’s warm blood saturated his white robe.

  The creature approached, wide-eyed with excitement as it towered over its prey. It leaned down close to Mike’s face. “You need to pay up front,” the creature said, its vocal chords mimicking Cindy’s voice precisely.

  Equal parts terror and regret instantly spread across Mike’s slumped-down face. Before he had a chance to look up, two powerful hands clamped around his head. Claws immediately sunk into his temples. The hands crushed hard against his skull.

  The creature ripped him out of the bathtub and held him a few feet in the air. Cindy’s blood dripped from his robe to the tiled floor.

  Mike screamed, long and loud, hoping somebody would hear, hoping somebody would help.

  The creature swung his body toward the towel hook on the door.

  Then it thrust him downward with tremendous force.

  The blunt hook crunched through his spine, just below his neck. His legs went numb, and he could no longer move his arms. The creature took a step back and watched as Mike swung gently from side to side on the door hook, the life draining from his body.

  He wheezed out a gurgling, dying breath.

  Not yet sated, the creature raised its thick black arm and rammed three razor-sharp claws into Mike’s neck.

  Everything instantly went black.

  Just like that, Mike’s business trip had come to an end.

  Chapter Seven

  As the Black Hawk raced over Las Vegas, Cafferty silently shook his head at the thousands of dead bodies below, at the thousands of bounding creatures in full sunlight, having no problem breathing oxygen anymore.

  The city was lost.
>
  Massive questions flooded his mind.

  Where does the world go from here?

  Will anyone even live to see next week?

  Am I to blame?

  Ellen squeezed her husband’s hand more firmly, sensing his despair. She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment.

  Bowcut ripped a satphone from a front pouch on her black body armor. She planted it to her ear, listened intently, then passed the device to Tom. “It’s President Brogan.”

  Cafferty put the satphone on speaker, trying to collect himself. “Madam President.”

  “Tom, has your chopper reached the air base yet?” Her tone was stern, for obvious reasons.

  He replied, “Approaching west of Vegas now, fifteen minutes out. We’re just ahead of the creatures. The pilots say we should beat them to the base in time.”

  “Get on that military plane and get airborne again the moment you land.”

  “Yes, Madam President.”

  “Tom, Washington has fallen,” Brogan said.

  Munoz’s mouth dropped open. Bowcut shook her head in disbelief.

  “My God,” Ellen replied. “Madam President, our son David? My parents?”

  “A helicopter got them before Fairfax was overrun,” Brogan replied. “They are safe at the moment, heading to one of our aircraft carriers that made it out of Norfolk in time.”

  Cafferty welled up with tears, clutching Ellen close.

  Thank God David is safe.

  “Where are you now, Madam President?” Cafferty asked, collecting himself.

  “I’m in Air Force One, along with Vice President Webster and the Joint Chiefs,” President Brogan replied. “We’re staying airborne indefinitely. Midair refueling planes got off the ground before Andrews Air Force Base fell to the creatures. We should have enough fuel to stay in the sky for a few days while we come up with a plan.”

  “Good, good,” Cafferty replied.

  “Tom, I need you to do something for your me . . . and for your country,” Brogan said softly. Her sudden change of tone made Cafferty listen more intently. “Something only you can do . . .”

  She paused, and Cafferty sensed the hesitation in her voice. He also suspected what was about to come but didn’t believe it quite yet. Not until the awful words had spewed out of her mouth.

  “I need you to go see Albert Van Ness.”

  Cafferty put the phone down for a moment.

  Munoz and Bowcut, who had leaned in close to listen, both stared in disbelief.

  Cafferty raised the phone again. “Are. You. Kidding. Me?” he said.

  The chopper closed in on the air base and began its descent. A fence surrounding the base remained intact. Soldiers hunched behind twenty vehicles on the airstrip. They aimed toward the city, waiting for the inevitable attack.

  “He might have information on how we can stop this attack. But you see . . .”

  Cafferty knew the president’s next words before she said them.

  “. . . he’ll only talk to you.”

  “You mean you’ve already reached out to him, Madam President?” Cafferty asked incredulously.

  The president’s silence on the other end said it all. Cafferty swelled with anger that threatened to burst him apart from the inside.

  “You know this is his final twist of the knife, don’t you, Madam President? You’re playing right into his hand. He’s baiting you to get to me. If Van Ness had any contingency plans for this, we would have already uncovered them when we raided the Foundation and its servers. He’s lying.”

  Cafferty squeezed the satphone harder in his hand, looked up at his team, and shook his head.

  “No, Madam President,” Cafferty continued. “No. I will not visit that murderer. I won’t give him the satisfaction of an audience while we could be planning and launching a counterattack instead. We need to regroup and—”

  “Now you listen to me, Tom,” President Brogan shot back defiantly. “The world is on its knees. If there’s even the slightest chance that madman can help us stop these creatures, then so help me God, you’re going. Is that understood?”

  The chopper began its final descent, closing in on the military jet that had its side door open and engines running, ready to depart.

  “The world can’t leave its fate in the hands of a lunatic, Madam President. Not again,” Cafferty replied, sounding defeated.

  Van Ness had made the same arrogant claim to him before, that the former mayor was destined to fail and only he had a way of winning the final battle.

  “We’re approaching the runway, Tom,” Diego interjected. “And this is gonna be close.”

  Cafferty peered out the window as the chopper approached the landing strip. In the distance, hundreds of creatures raced across the lush fairways of the Sunrise Vista Golf Course, heading directly toward the base’s perimeter fence. Muffled shots rang out as soldiers responded to their presence. Cafferty knew bullets wouldn’t have any effect against the attack.

  “Get onto that plane as fast as possible, Tom!” the president shouted through the satphone. “Then get to Van Ness.”

  The Black Hawk’s wheels hit the ground next to the military aircraft. Cafferty, Ellen, Bowcut, and Munoz jumped out and sprinted up the jet’s small set of steps. A soldier immediately slammed the plane door shut, and the pilot fired the engines full force.

  The aircraft picked up speed along the runway. The jet’s engines whined, drowning out the external gunfire of soldiers quickly losing their lives.

  Out of breath, Cafferty peered out the window of the plane. The jet’s wheels lifted off the runway and they took to the sky. Below them, the creatures leaped over the perimeter and swarmed the remaining soldiers.

  “They don’t stand a chance,” Munoz uttered.

  “Heavily outnumbered with useless weapons,” Bowcut added.

  It didn’t need to be said, but they needed to say something, to somehow come to terms with what they were witnessing.

  It was all over in thirty seconds. Creatures overran the vehicles and rapidly set about slaughtering soldiers. They then headed for the main buildings to finish the job of destroying the air base in its entirety.

  Cafferty slid down his window cover. He had seen enough.

  Civilization was falling fast.

  “We’re airborne, Madam President,” he finally said into the satphone, defeated.

  “Thank God,” she replied. “And your mission?”

  He rested his head in his hands.

  How has it come to this as my only option?

  “Tom, maybe you should at least hear Van Ness out,” Ellen said quietly to her husband.

  Cafferty turned to his wife and gave her an angry look.

  “Humanity is falling,” she continued, not cowed by his anger. “If even a hint of truth exists in Van Ness’ claim that he can stop this, we’re going to need all the help we can get.

  “Tom, our son is in danger. Wouldn’t you do whatever it takes to keep him safe?”

  Cafferty shot his wife an icy glare, incredulous and furious with her. How dare she use David against me like this! But again, she looked back with defiance. He looked at Munoz and Bowcut. They apparently both agreed with Ellen.

  They all knew what Van Ness was. And yet they seemed to trust that maniac more than him. He felt surrounded by betrayal and hated that he had no choice but to acquiesce.

  Cafferty lifted the satphone to his mouth.

  “Fine. I’ll go,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “But know this, Madam President,” he continued, eyeing his three companions so that they knew the words were for them, too. “This is a trap. And more of us will die.”

  Chapter Eight

  The sun had almost set in San Francisco, bathing the city in a warm orange glow. A shaken Karen Green sat cross-legged, away from the edge of the apartment building’s roof. Little Joey knelt by her side, his arms locked around her waist.

  The sounds of alarms and sirens filled the air, thousands of th
em blasting from cars and buildings.

  But no more screams. Or cries of pain and suffering.

  Only distant shrieks.

  They made her skin crawl. Made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

  She figured anyone left alive remained hidden from facing a certain death. At least for now.

  Nobody had answered her 911 call. She hadn’t expected anyone to, but she had tried nevertheless—what else could she do? During the afternoon, her cell signal had died. She knew her fate and the fate of her son rested squarely in her hands. The only way to know if the creatures were coming back was to assess the situation on the ground. Once more, the thought crept through her mind:

  I need to make Daniel’s actions count, make sure he didn’t die in vain.

  Karen broke free of Joey’s embrace. He tried to cling to her, but she eased him away. She placed her finger against her lips to encourage his silence. He replied by wiping tears away from his eyes. It didn’t take him long to comply to this.

  He’d seen too much.

  Her hope was that he couldn’t process the events. A slim hope, yes, but she couldn’t stand the thought of those images seared into his mind for the rest of his life. Of his father being . . .

  Of the images permanently seared in her mind.

  This might be our last sunset.

  “Baby,” she whispered. “Be a good boy and stay quiet for Mommy. Please.”

  Thankfully, Joey nodded in acknowledgment, in part because he couldn’t see her internal dread. As a paramedic, she needed a great poker face. Patients with serious injuries required reassurance on their way to the hospital, not a panic-stricken EMS worker telling them they’d die if they didn’t beat the traffic in time. Joey needed his mother, not the victim of a vicious, living-nightmare attack.

  Once confident he would follow her request, she dropped to her elbows and knees and crawled toward the edge of the roof. The asphalt scraped against her flesh. She grimaced as she advanced.