And then I can kill him.
Van Ness sat upright with his back to the door, facing an antique record player. An untouched food tray sat on a table to the right of his wheelchair, a neatly made bed on the left. Van Ness’ hair was perfectly combed, and from this angle he appeared clean-shaven. Nothing like the last photo Cafferty had seen, where the old man sat slumped in his wheelchair with an unkempt beard that was caked in vomit.
Cafferty took a deep breath.
Here goes nothing.
He entered the code on the pad.
Multiple locks snapped open.
The door slowly swept outward with a pneumatic hiss.
Van Ness didn’t turn to see who had entered. Instead, he waved his remaining hand around as if he were a conductor to the strains of Johannes Brahms.
Cafferty glanced around the walls for security cameras. None was visible, but then again, they were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. There was no means of escape, so who cared what a deranged old man could do?
“Hello, Thomas,” Van Ness said without turning around.
Hearing his German accent again, the familiar sound of his voice, made the hairs on Cafferty’s arms stand at attention.
“They allowed me to watch your speech at the United Nations,” Van Ness said in a cool, confident tone. He twisted a controller on his wheelchair. It spun around until he faced Cafferty. He stared directly into his eyes. “How’d all your bold plans work out, Mr. Mayor?”
“How’s the hand, Albert?” Cafferty shot back.
Van Ness grinned, glancing down at the stump at his wrist where his number two, Edwards, had betrayed him and severed the appendage.
“I do miss our repartee, Thomas. But I have things I need to do, and no amount of wit is going to make up for lost time. Now, shall we commence with our business?”
“Tell me, Albert, what business do we have together?” Cafferty asked.
“Why, the business of saving humanity. If it’s not too late already. If you haven’t already ruined my plan. By now, I assume the creatures are flowing out of the cities, killing millions, killing those I would have saved without your interference.”
“It never should have gotten to that point in the first place. You could have destroyed them another way. Or you could have told us about this timeline, that a mass attack was imminent. But no, Albert. You needed to play God. Your greed led you here, led humanity here. Not me. To put it more bluntly, you’re nothing but a genocidal asshole,” Cafferty snapped back.
“Now, now—don’t test me with your language, Mr. Cafferty,” Van Ness coldly replied. “It is you who has failed humanity. This happened on your watch, Mr. Mayor. You are unsuited to the task, which is why you came here today.”
“Go to hell. I’m leaving.” Cafferty turned and opened the door to exit the cell.
“Do you want to know how to stop the creatures?” Van Ness called out.
Cafferty paused, teeth gritted.
“Because, my dear fellow,” Van Ness continued, “I know how. It seems destiny has brought us back together again, Thomas.”
Everything inside Cafferty screamed at him to just leave and let the old man rot in this cell for the rest of his days. But images of Las Vegas flashed through his mind. San Francisco. Washington. Chicago. And so many more cities, falling by the hour.
Cafferty stopped and turned back to face Van Ness with an icy look in his eyes. “Tell me what you know,” he said coldly.
“Better than that, I’ll show you. Now, we’ll need a long-range military plane—”
Cafferty let out a bellowing laugh. “You think you’re ever getting off this rig? You’re going to die in this place, Van Ness. You can either do that knowing you helped your fellow man or just sit here and rot for the last of your days.”
“True, I might die here,” Van Ness replied. “But it will be quite some time before that happens—unlike you. No, I’ll be safe and sound in this cell long after you and your friends have been exterminated. Or you can ask for my help.” He paused for a second. “No, not ask. Beg.”
It took all of his strength not to jump forward and strangle Van Ness. But the truth in his words struck Cafferty. Humanity was being wiped off the face of the earth, and there was nothing Cafferty could do to stop it.
“How is Ellen, by the way?” Van Ness asked. “And your son?”
“Fuck you, Van Ness,” Cafferty replied, clenching his fists.
A smile crept across Van Ness’ face. Cafferty knew that could mean anything. A nervous reaction. Amusement at the outburst. Confidence in what he had to say next. It didn’t matter.
“That temper will be the end of you, Thomas,” Van Ness said. “Either that or the creatures. One way or another, you’re dead without my help. As is your beloved wife. And your friends. And your son.”
Van Ness lifted the needle off the record and placed it in its holder. Silence filled the room as the two men stared at each other with equal hatred in their eyes.
“Now, shall I continue?” Van Ness asked. Cafferty stayed silent. “Good. One year ago, I watched you walk through my cryo-chambers in Paris. The place where I’ve been crossbreeding our species. I’m sure you observed the empty chamber at the end of the row. Did you ever wonder what became of that final experiment? The final hybrid?”
“My wife sliced it in half in your command center.”
“Oh no.” Van Ness laughed. “No, no, no. That monstrosity was not my masterpiece. That was more creature than human.”
“What are you saying?” Cafferty asked, confused.
“You see, Thomas, I’ve perfected the design. And I’m more than happy to share what I’ve created in order to save humanity. But . . .”
Van Ness turned toward the record player, took the disc off the turntable and delicately put it back in its sleeve.
“. . . there is one simple condition, you see . . .”
“Let me guess, you want half the U.S.’s gross domestic product,” Cafferty quipped.
“Haha, no, no, Thomas,” Van Ness replied. “We’re far past that. No. What I want is much more personal than that. I want a gentleman’s agreement, if you will, solely between you and me, for only you and I to know . . .”
Cafferty shifted his weight, suddenly uncomfortable. “And that is . . . ?”
Van Ness turned his wheelchair to face Cafferty again. “At the end of all this, if we win the day, only one of us—either you or I—will be alive to claim the victory. Winner takes all, so to speak. To the victor goes the spoils. What was it I told your wife last year? One must live, and one must die.”
Cafferty could not believe what he was hearing, but Van Ness’ expression and tone told him he was serious. If they defeated the creatures once and for all, one of them would live, one of them would have to die—presumably at the hands of the other. He was playing a game of Russian roulette with a madman. One who almost certainly knew where the bullet would be in advance.
“So, my friend. Are you willing to play my one final game?” Van Ness asked.
Cafferty thought of Ellen, of David. Of Diego, of Sarah. He was literally gambling with his life. What would keep Van Ness from trying to kill him at any moment? How could he possibly trust him to see this through?
Then Cafferty thought of his fallen friend David North, standing there in the subway tunnel, fighting the creatures to his very last breath, willing to sacrifice his life to save the remaining passengers on the Z train. To save him.
And finally, Cafferty thought of Albert Van Ness, sitting there smugly while the world burned.
Him or me. Defeat the creatures, then kill Van Ness. Or die trying . . .
“So, Thomas,” Van Ness said, “I’ll ask one more time. Are you willing to play my one final game, putting our competence and honor on the line?”
“I am,” Cafferty replied confidently, although the pit in his stomach dropped. “At the end of this, one of us lives, the other dies. Let’s see what fate has in store.”
Did I just
sign my death warrant?
“There’s the spirit, Thomas,” Van Ness replied. “What fun! Now, as I said, you and I will need a long-range plane to take us immediately to Antarctica.”
“Antarctica?” Cafferty asked.
“And one more thing. Have your president send every carrier strike group to the West Coast of America and all other world leaders send their cargo planes and ships to the coordinates I’m about to give you. They need to leave immediately.”
“Which planes? Which ships?”
Van Ness leaned forward and stared at Cafferty. “All of them.”
Chapter Ten
Thin dawn light streamed through the San Francisco apartment’s blinds. Joey snuggled in Karen’s lap, fast asleep on the wrecked bedroom floor. She pulled the blanket back over his body to protect him from the cool early-morning air.
There was nothing she could do about the faint odor of decomposing bodies. That’d only grow stronger as the day wore on.
She hadn’t slept a wink. Images of Danny’s death had repeatedly spun through her mind. The gratuitous, barbaric nature. He hadn’t stood a chance, just like the thousands of corpses littering the city.
Also, she’d been afraid the creatures would come back. That their respite had been a fever dream, and it was only a matter of time.
Because by now, the sinking realization hit her that no immediate fight against the creatures was coming, no cavalry descending to save the day. She had prayed for the sound of tanks grinding on concrete. Weapons firing. Anything to give her a sign that this current terrifying world wasn’t the future.
Nothing came.
Through all the thinking, though, it was still a struggle to wrap her head around the events.
Creatures from below rising to the surface?
How many cities had fallen?
Karen remembered the former mayor of New York City’s speech to the United Nations a year ago. People had taken notice and it was all the newspapers and TV programs could talk about for a few months, but the news moved on, people moved on, and it had taken on the status of bogeyman like so many other things in politics: guns, opioids, global warming. They were all real, but they didn’t affect her reality.
Now it had become everyone’s reality.
It was clear San Francisco had fallen. Alarms had gradually stopped during the night. Buildings with backup power had fought on against the darkness, only to systematically go out one by one from east to west. No doubt at the hands—or claws—of the monstrosities that had blitzed the city before the sun had set.
The eerie silence outside chilled her more than the temperature. No car engines. No horn blasts from boats. No rumbling trams. Only the sound of seagulls in the bay. It’d taken Karen a while to shed the paranoia that the shrill cries of the birds were the creatures and even longer to eventually calm Joey, clean him up as best she could (since the water stopped working soon after she’d taken a shower), and finally get him to sleep.
Regardless of their gloomy prospects, she wouldn’t give up. She’d fought for everything in her life, everything in her son’s life. Danny had fought for them both to his dying breath.
Karen strained to hear any signs of the creatures’ return. But mostly she just heard her own thoughts.
Danny.
Mom and Dad.
Great-Aunt Lillian.
Maybe everyone I know . . .
She choked back the tears. Forced her trembling lips together to avoid letting her emotions become audible. For the sake of her son and for the sake of their safety.
Joey’s eyes flickered open. He stifled a yawn and then nearly jumped out of her arms. “Are they back?!”
“Easy, easy, baby,” she whispered. “We’re safe. We’re waiting here till help arrives.”
Thankfully, Joey settled down quickly, believing his mother’s lie.
They had devoured the orange juice and cold cuts in the lifeless refrigerator while they had the chance. The owners had cans of food in the kitchenette, so they had supplies to last a few days.
Her phone had provided light when they’d needed it. The battery had dropped to a meager 9 percent on low power mode. Although with all cellular communications down, the device had no use beyond illuminating their immediate surroundings.
Sooner or later they’d have to move to avoid the stench of the rotting corpses. Or move the corpses. But even then, it would only be a brief respite before the potential diseases that so many dead bodies clogging the city air would create.
But when?
And where?
And how?
A distant shriek rose above the cries of the seagulls, breaking the silence. Long. Menacing. The first she’d heard for several hours.
“I’m scared,” Joey said.
Karen wrapped her arm around him. Both sat in silence.
Then a cacophony of distant shrieks echoed through the streets, like a frightening ancient battle cry. At best, she guessed, it was the sound of the creatures announcing their victory. At worst, a portent for a fresh attack on the remnants of the city’s decimated population.
As the chilling noise grew louder and seemingly closer, her chest tightened, along with a sense of doom. A sharp pain pulsed below her sternum, making it feel like her heart was about to explode. Sweat beaded her brow. She leaned forward and gasped.
Joey’s eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she choked out. “It’s okay, sweetie.”
Karen took extended, steady breaths. She had always kept herself fit. A heart attack? No, it wasn’t that. She guessed the symptoms were caused from anxiety. She’d treated a few patients who’d displayed a similar set of problems. A panic attack. Or maybe even PTSD.
Pull yourself together, she told herself.
But it was easier said than done. Because with every passing minute, slowly but surely, the creatures closed in.
She had to know if they were coming down Lombard Street again and, if so, what they were doing. The only way of finding out was going back to the rooftop and not making the same mistake as last time.
Karen rose to her feet. Her thighs ached from the inactivity, sitting in the same position for hours with Joey on her lap. She stretched her back. Mentally prepared herself to move, maybe into more danger, but they had to take the risk.
“We’re going back upstairs,” she said quietly. “Be a good boy and follow my instructions. Okay?”
Joey nodded.
The boy was usually unruly, difficult to control at the best of times. But he took her hand, obeying without question, and they both crept toward the bedroom door. She reckoned his young mind had at least pieced together that they were in severe danger and that following her lead was the best and only way out.
Karen circled the upturned couch. Thankfully, it had landed on the apartment owner’s body, shielding the corpse from Joey’s view. She picked her way past the shards of glass from the smashed coffee table and neared the apartment entrance.
The collective creature noise sounded a few blocks away. It was impossible to tell from here.
Or closer . . .
They could be silently stalking any survivor.
Already on Lombard Street?
That thought propelled her out the door and up the stairs, which remained lit with emergency battery lights on the exit signs.
Neither she nor Joey glanced down the staircase at her fallen husband and his father. Karen shuddered as she stepped through the pool of his drying blood. She swallowed hard and continued up the stairs. Joey gripped her hand tightly. He had his eyes squeezed shut, and he stumbled every few steps.
Once outside on the roof, the hairs on her arms prickled. Not from the temperature. The heat from the rising sun had brought warmth and cast long shadows across the bay. No, the shrieks—even closer now than before—caused this reaction.
They sound right on top of us.
Karen dropped to all fours on the asphalt. Joey did the same.
She crawled to the edge of
the roof silently.
A few hundred yards down Lombard Street, five small creatures stood in the middle of the road on the roof of a white delivery truck, staring at the tall buildings to their immediate left and right. Bone-chilling howls emanated from the shattered windows of the lower floors and reverberated through the buildings. Windows exploded outward on the higher floors, the bursts of fragmented glass slowly rising until they reached the top.
“What’s happening, Mommy?” Joey asked. “Are they coming here?”
“I hope not . . .” Karen trailed off, not sure what to say next. Because she had no idea what was happening, either.
For a split second, nothing seemed to move.
Until hundreds of creatures rushed out of the entrances of both buildings. They surrounded the small group on the truck, swelling the street with their ranks. Tails thrashing. Beady eyes darting everywhere. Snarling. Moments later, they moved up to the next buildings in sequence on the street and siphoned through the smashed doorways.
Once again, the frightening process continued.
Corpses smashed through windows and their dead weights crunched against the sidewalks. The first floor. Second. Third. Fourth.
They are going building to building, killing anyone who’s left . . .
Joey attempted to raise his head over the edge of the roof. Karen gently forced it back down. He didn’t need to see this. She could barely look without wanting to vomit. Her knees trembled. She balled her hands into fists to avoid her son seeing her shake like an old washing machine on a fast spin cycle.
It only took a few minutes for the vast throng of creatures to return back outside. Then they moved on to the next buildings. Only two buildings away from Karen and Joey’s refuge.
A piercing scream rang out.
A man.
Someone still alive.
The scream stopped as abruptly as it started.
They’re clearing the area.
Annihilating us.
Karen crawled to the left edge of the roof, toward where the creatures were continuing their work. The building below, which she guessed was the next target on her side of the street, looked like offices. Its roof lay a story below the one she was on, with a six-foot gap between the buildings. The rooftop held a glass structure containing a trendy break room. Sunshine glinted off its surface. Coffee and vending machines lined the wall. Bright red chairs surrounded circular tables. A Ping-Pong table. A billiards table. It opened out directly below Karen to a patio filled with garden furniture.
Obliteration Page 6
