Born of Chaos

by Jeff DeMarco

  “Can we not do this right now?” He dropped his circuit board and glared at her; her face puckered, as if about to cry. He bit his lip in restraint.

  “I need to go.” Her whisper now turned sullen.

  “Think about it…” His face stern, straight as an arrow. “We need to find them.”

  Michael had heard Cole’s call, but he considered it best to keep quiet, wait and see what they’d do. Besides, he was busy. He had gone through the first building. His mind felt the structure of the stairwell, swung the doors shut and locked them, turning each of the locks with a metallic ‘click.’ He communicated with the people on the 12th floor who had made their way out onto the street. He moved on to the second, all the way through the fifth, without bloodshed. In total, 558 people were rescued, now en route to Scott Airforce Base, Illinois.

  He stood on the street in front of the sixth building, scanned the interior with his mind, searching for both survivors and creatures. He watched through their eyes, controlling them if need be. He found a path from the back room on the sixth floor. It was a large expanse, a warehouse of sorts. Two creatures had wandered onto the floor, tracking the faint scent of human. He took control of both of them, guided them down to the fifth floor away from the human survivors.

  The putrid stench hit him at once, shreds of scalp and bone, a pack of nineteen. The leader ran up to them, sniffed them, up and down their bodies. He gave a faint screech and click of his teeth.

  Michael noticed the large scar across the leader’s face. He left the two on the fifth floor, then twisted the metal knob on the door lock. It came to rest with a hollow ‘click.’

  He spoke into the mind of one of the survivors - Tony. ‘Go to the stairwell, go down onto the street. We’re going to rescue you.’

  At first, the usual shock, followed by endless questions. ‘Who are you?’ ‘How are you doing this?’

  Inevitably, Michael had assuaged Tony’s fear, convincing him to lead his group to safety. The survivors proceeded hesitantly, afraid to make a noise, afraid to breath. They moved quickly into the stairwell, their feet echoing in fearful resonance against the concrete steps.

  As the human survivors passed the fifth floor, the pack leader felt it, the rhythmic patter of food. He ran through the door, slammed his body against it. The door’s striker plate missing, he cracked the doorframe.

  Three of the survivors stopped dead, above the fifth floor, the others now flying down the stairs.

  The pack leader slammed again, as the bolt broke through the doorframe. He tore through, ripping at the three men, slashing into one’s midsection.

  The other survivors ran up the stairs, as more hunters poured out, chasing them both up and down stairs.

  The pack leader ran, eager to kill again, eager to feed his pack.

  Michael ripped back one creature after another back, keeping them off the survivors as they ran down the stairs.

  They poured into the empty street, running towards Michael; He put his hands up, palms out - a translucent wall formed ahead of him.

  The pack bashed against the wall, again and again, stopping only to examine its luminous quality.

  “Run!” Michael yelled to the survivors.

  The pack leader slunk back, poised himself on his haunches and let out a piercing screech.

  The pounding of many paws began at once as windows shattered and doors tore loose; The screech echoed.

  The pack leader screeched again, this time in series. Others now pouring onto the street echoed the call, as hordes of creatures amassed in response to the summons.

  Michael felt them converge as he sprinted for the safety of the Humvees.

  “Shit.” Teegs watched as Michael rounded a corner of the building. He tapped the gunner on the leg. “Get ready!” The Humvee’s engine turned over with a roar, as the creatures rounded the corner. The gun started to sing ‘clack clack clack’ as other gunners swung in their ring mounts and shot in chorus. Teegs picked up the radio. “Retreat.”

  Michael’s mind panicked, unable to control but a few of the creatures, dropping them in front of the moving pile, tripping some as the creatures continued their pursuit.

  “What happened?” Teegs yelled, as he whipped the Humvee around.

  Michael panted from escape. “Too many.” He closed his eyes, creating a barrier, moving damaged cars into the path of the approaching creatures. The flood of creatures, too wide, parted around the obstacles. He ripped dozens away as they converged on the convoy, now speeding towards the bridge.

  Teegs in front, ripped through a chain link fence. The turret gunner ducked to keep his head, then swung to the rear, firing at their flanks. The horde traveled at lightning speed as it overtook one Humvee, then another.

  Michael felt the creatures as their talons ripped through flesh of the humans ripped from the turret. Creatures climbed into the top, painted the windows blood red, as the Humvee came to rest. The feeling of death tore at him[WU6], as the creature’s claws, each of their last breaths. He gritted his teeth, a vengeful power erupting from him.

  A wave of blood ran over the street, and droves of creatures burst, their organs mangled and torn from their chests, coating the vehicles that pressed on.

  The Humvees neared the bridge as the ‘clack clack clack’ of automatic weapons continued, ceaseless as the wave of hunters pursued. They sped in the oncoming lane. Teegs opened his window. “Blow the bridge!” He waved his arm frantically.

  The engineers looked on in horror, waiting for the last vehicle to pass.

  Teegs jumped out of the driver’s seat, rifle in hand. “Blow the bridge, damn it[WU7]!” He yelled at one engineer.

  “Something’s wrong!” The engineer cranked on a detonator. “It’s not working.”

  Teegs looked back at Michael standing beside the Humvee; the fury in his eyes said all that was necessary.

  Michael felt the explosives, composition B. The combustion was small but spread rapidly throughout; the bridge collapsed in a plume of fire, then smoke, then dust. The creatures were caught and fell helplessly into the raging current below.

  Teegs walked to Michael, the fury in his eyes remained dead set.

  Michael sank, his eyes fixed on the pavement.

  Teegs gritted his teeth, then let out a long sigh, as he put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “This will hurt you, as it hurts me.”

  Michael looked up at him. The fury had given way to something else.

  “We’ve made a mistake and failed. The deaths of those men, it’s on you and it’s on me.”

  A lump grew in Michael’s throat.

  “This isn’t a teaching moment, we can’t go back and give those Airmen or civilians their lives back… learn from it anyway.”

  Michael’s stomach felt sick now.

  “Had we killed those creatures, the outcome might have been different, our people’s lives spared. Or maybe not. It takes a leader to make those decisions, to do what’s necessary, no matter how much it hurts.”

  “I’m sorry,” Michael whispered.

  “It’s not ok and I don’t forgive you.” Teegs winced at his own words. “But you’re not the first leader to make a fatal error.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Kristen lay strapped to a metal table. The blood pooled in her head, declined below the level of her legs. The concrete room was painfully lit with bright ultraviolet lights, the smell of mildew and ammonia seeping from the concrete.

  A large, formidable man stood in the corner, broad shouldered and donned in black fatigues; he had an unkempt mop of wavy brown hair and a scraggly beard. A piece of paper in his heavy hand, the sleeves of his blouse rolled up over thick forearms, he wore no nametape or service patch that she could see. He sat down on a metal stool beside her and smiled thinly but earnestly at her.

  She stared at the ceiling and swallowed. The heavy collar pressed on her throat, a haze from lack of blood flow.

  “Question 1, what is your name?”

  She closed her eyes, s
training against the padded cuffs.

  “We don’t need to do this,” he whispered. He walked over to the wall at her head and pulled a hinged swing arm above her face. “Just tell me your name.”

  She inhaled deeply.

  He let out a sigh and turned the spigot on; a steady stream of water shot down onto her face. She held her breath as long as she could, then exhaled violently, painfully, ripping her head about and gasping. The man sat back down and let the water run. He waited, waited for her to break, watching her thrash about, gurgling against the ceaseless stream. He waited for a word.

  “St…” she gurgled. “…op!”

  He shut the spigot off.

  Kristen panted, breathless. “My name’s Susie.” She thrashed her head, trying to blow the water out of her sinuses.

  He pulled a tablet out of his cargo pocket and sighed once more. He turned the spigot back on, then knelt down next to her ear. “I’m really not into interrogating pretty little girls… It’s not my thing. Just assume that I already know the answer to everything I’m asking.”

  ‘Kri –‘ she mouthed.

  He shut the spigot off again.

  “Kristen,” she panted.

  He looked down at his tablet, noting a frantic but steady beating of her pulse. “Good girl.” He grinned, displaying a gap in his chipped front tooth. “You can call me Joe.” He hooked a lead up to each of her feet, then set a car battery onto the metal tray.

  “What’re you doing?” Her voice felt weak, powerless.

  He smiled his chipped smile. “Havin’ fun, I suppose.”

  She glared at him. “I’m going to kill you soon.”

  “Cool story...” His face unenthusiastic as he linked the battery to both the switch and leads. “You and about 500 dead terrorists.” He checked his tablet, a frustrated look swept over him.

  “It’s people like you, the reason humanity deserves to die.”

  “You’re probably right…” He stood over her, looking up and down the length of her body. “Speaking of what a horrible person I am, do you know I could have my way with you right now… do whatever I want. No one would know. No one would care.” He stared down at his tablet again, this time with a smirk; the heart rate and blood pressure transmitted by her collar began to rise. “Looks like you’re scared of something... Let’s get started.”

  “Would you risk your life to save someone you cared about?” Michael sat down, across the desk from Teegs.

  “Depends.” Tiegs leaned back in his chair. “What’s at stake?”

  “A life, a future.” Michael racked his brain, thinking of the possible outcomes. “Don’t really know, to be honest.”

  “As a young man, my answer would’ve probably been an unqualified yes.”

  “And now?” Michael asked.

  “Not so much.” Tiegs rested his head in his hands, staring up at the ceiling in contemplation. “What’s her name?”

  “Kristen.”

  Tiegs smiled. “And what happens if you rescue her?”

  “Something good, maybe. Or something bad… or maybe she returns to Jacob.” His face both soured and twisted in thought. “She’s not quite an ally, so, again, I don’t really know.”

  “How would you do it?” Teegs eyed him, curiously. “Go in alone?”

  “No. It’d take a team to infiltrate… the place where she’s being held.”

  “Hmm.” Tiegs lips pursed. “You’d put many lives on the line to rescue one, and the outcome could potentially be worse than if you were to do nothing?”

  “You’re right,” Michael nodded. “Be better if I just left it alone.”

  “No judgement.” Tiegs shot up, walked out around the desk. “As we’ve discussed, these are the types of decisions leaders have to make.” He put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll make the right call.”

  Michael’s dreams that night were troubled. ‘They wouldn’t kill her,’ he thought. ‘and she doesn’t know that I know.’ In the same breath, he saw her in shackles, alone, suffering. A sickening feeling grew in his stomach, one that he tried desperately to suppress. With each shot of pain, her body writhed, so too did his stomach.

  He walked down to the barracks bathroom, his stomach in his throat; then finally as he hovered above the toilet, he let go. He walked over to the sink, washed his mouth out with water and looked in the mirror. He appeared the same, yet he couldn’t help but look away.

  He would wake in the morning, ashamed, and try his best to go on with his day.

  CHAPTER[WU8] 7

  “More will die, as our paths converge.” She sat cross legged in the void, manifested as a muted version of their current, grassy surroundings. Her body remained in the same posture outside, the sun beating down through a chilling autumn wind; wisps of strawberry blonde hair cascaded across her face. She smiled.

  A snout nuzzled under Taylor’s arm. “They’re coming for us,” he whispered; wind whistled along prairie grass, faint outside the void. His bright face had dimmed as of late.

  “I know,” Erica whispered back. “They’re all coming, and we’ll all die.”

  Taylor’s head cocked, confused.

  “Easier to think that way, that we all die in the end.”

  His brow furrowed. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

  “It is, and it’s not.” An engine revved in the distance. Molly growled. “My lungs full and my body empty, I saw it there, on the bottom of the river …”

  “We should go.” He stood; his connection severed, his mind back to his body in the grassy field, now upright and running. “They’re coming.”

  “It’s fine.” She tussled his brown mop of hair, like a little brother; the rustle and crackle of bodies moving through dry grass. “Think I’ll stay here a while.”

  ‘Ugh!’ Taylor tripped over a railroad tie, sliced his leg on a jagged piece of metal, the remnants of battle. He grabbed his mouth, the noise already echoing into the distance. Molly tugged at his shirtsleeve, urging him to move.

  “Over here!” a man’s voice yelled.

  Taylor crept low; he circled back, watched as they enveloped her, then pressed his palm into the wound, now bleeding steadily into the dirt.

  “Erica.” A voice echoed into the void.

  She opened her eyes. Her step-father, Dustin, stood over her, flanked by Soldiers, too many to count. “I’m fine… Dustin.” Her eyes fixed on him in a contemptuous glare; she lay back, her hands behind her head, legs crossed at the ankle.

  His own name hit him in the chest, knocked the wind out of him. “No…” Tension grew in his voice. “You’re not fine. I’ve had a whole Platoon out looking for you. Get up.”

  She lay there, silent.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You could get attacked, or lost.” He whispered, “Now let’s go.”

  “Sorry for wasting your time.” Her arms crossed in front of her. “I can handle whatever comes.”[WU9]

  He let out a long, frustrated sigh. “It wasn’t a request.” He grabbed her wrist, pulling her body upwards.

  She wrenched it away. “Leave me alone.”

  “Damnit Erica!” His voice loud, irritated. He slung his rifle to his back. “I’m not kidding, this isn’t a game.” He stooped down, grabbed her by the arm and pulled.

  “Let me go!”

  He lifted her over his shoulder. His arm gripped tightly around her legs as he walked, the sound of her pouting behind him. [WU10]

  He felt an odd, buckling sensation in his stump, a rattling in the ankle joint in his prosthetic. Then it ripped out from under him, shot out 15 feet forward. He fell with it; his body and Erica’s slammed hard to the ground.

  She spun off him, quickly recovered and ran.

  His Soldiers chased, as he crawled to his knees. “No!” He hobbled to one leg, the butt of his rifle used as a cane, Lieutenant Alexander’s arm under his. “Leave her.” His face red with embarrassment, he surveyed the ground in the distance, looking for his lost prostheti
c, along with his dignity.

  “Little pinch,” Ellen slid the needle into Taylor’s leg.

  He watched the opaque liquid enter his bloodstream. “How’s it work?”

  “How you mean, hon?” She pulled the needle out under some gauze, taping it against his skin.

  “I can feel them.” His eyes were adrift. “My cells, migrating to the wound. The bacteria, infecting, multiplying, spreading, dying. The vaccine moving through my bloodstream…” He snapped back to reality, inquisitive eyes trained on her. “How’s it all work?”

  “Goodness…” She let out a long sigh, her hands pinching the wound together. “Another little pinch.”

  “It’s fi- “ He winced at the suture, piercing his skin.

  “Your cells are triggered to react to the wound, weaving protein strands to bind it all together, blood platelets stuffing themselves into the opening to clot the wound, white blood cells attacking the bacteria…” She tied off the first suture. “The bacteria… well, technically a spore, Clostridium Tetani… Tetanus, once it’s incubated forms a toxin, gets into your lymphatic system.” She tied off the second suture.

  He stared at her explanation in wonder, the stabbing pain drowned out, feeling the process inside himself.

  “… causes muscle rigidity and spasms.” She stuck the 3rd suture in, her hands flying – the many years of experience and muscle memory. “The vaccine is an inactivated tetanus toxoid, makes your body produce antibodies.” She looked up finally and winked at him. “So, don’t let your momma tell you vaccines are bad for you.”

  “Oh, I don’t have one of those…” His eyes flat, as if simply stating a fact.

  Her heart sank, and her thoughts moved immediately to her own boys.

  “Think you could teach me?”

  Her smile empathetic, yet painful. “Of course.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “I don’t know what to do with her.” Dustin lay huddled beside Ari in the travel trailer, bundled under the covers from the autumn chill.

  “She’s a teenage girl.” Ari took his freezing hand. “It’s normal.”