Missions from the Extinction Cycle (Volume 1)

by Mark Tufo

She stopped speaking and held her hand over her mouth as the video clip rolled. Black bars filled the right and left corners of the screen as the grainy cell phone footage began to play. The picture bounced up and down, moving in and out of focus as the man behind the camera kept shouting the same three words the reporter had last spoken.

  “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD…”

  The sound of a door slamming preceded the video finally coming clear and being held up to a window. Beyond that, a street could be seen with multiple people darting from the left side of the screen to the right. A few looked over their shoulder, but most simply ran as though their lives depended on it.

  As the clip continued, a man entered the frame. Tall and thin—he was probably right at six feet, but couldn’t have been more than one-hundred-fifty pounds. He was moving considerably slower than the others, and as he came into full view, it was apparent why. His left leg seemed to be broken and was severely mangled just below the knee. He was now dragging what remained of his left leg and doing his best to move in the same direction as the others.

  As a large shadow entered the lower left of the screen, a loud snapping sound began drowning out the muffled screams of the runners. It sounded vaguely like the breaking of bones, but the irritating cracks came in rapid succession, almost like rounds fired from a semi-automatic weapon.

  Turning from the television and suddenly feeling much warmer than he had in days, Blake said, “What is that? Sounds like—”

  The rest of his sentence trailed off as the look on his friend’s face pulled him back to the screen. “That’s it…that’s what’s out there.”

  The friends again stared at the flickering screen, only now neither was able to form a rational thought, let alone put words to what they were seeing.

  A grotesquely disfigured man—or at least that’s what this thing looked like it had once been—leaned into the shot. The first thing Blake noticed was the odd coloring of its skin. It was something reminiscent of cloudy water, not quite white or tan, but more of a translucent pearl, with blue veins weaving odd patterns across the majority of its hairless body.

  The unthinkable beast stepped forward and eyed its target. Extending its densely muscled right arm, it reached out for the injured left leg of the man on all fours, now heading toward the right corner of the screen.

  Through the grainy cellphone video, it looked as though the creature’s hands had somehow morphed into thick meaty claws, and its nails into dangerously jagged talons. They clicked and scratched as the fast moving beast scurried across the asphalt toward its victim. And with a single swipe of its right arm, it clutched the screaming man by the ankle and began pulling him backward.

  Shouts of horror could also be heard coming from the individual holding the phone as they took a step back from the window and the camera refocused. The frame a bit wider now, and the scene coming clear, the totality of the creature came into full view. And as it turned to face the window, the camera momentarily shook and then the video went to black, but not before Blake and Dwight looked into the eyes of what was about to change civilization forever.

  — 4 —

  With the image burned into the deepest part of his mind’s eye, Blake tried making sense of what he’d just witnessed. And as the reporters continued their discussion of what they thought was happening, he only stared at the screen, attempting to forget the pain that had returned at the top and sides of his head.

  Clutching the remote—his hand shaking as he muted the volume—Blake fought to keep his composure. That thing that was once human had somehow transformed into something nearly indescribable. What he couldn’t piece together was how. It just didn’t seem possible, not now, not ever. Although, in his current condition, he couldn’t say for certain that he wasn’t hallucinating, or even dreaming.

  Back to his friend, Blake pointed to the front window. “Is that what caused whatever is going on out there?”

  Dwight nodded. “I think so.”

  “That’s not possible, how on earth could that thing—”

  “Blake, there are hundreds of those things, maybe thousands…maybe more.”

  “Come on, how did no one know these things existed before two days ago? There was nothing on the news, nothing on the internet. There’s no way all of this just popped up out of the blue—someone must have known something.”

  “I don’t think so man. They really don’t know what this is. They keep calling it a virus or something. Yesterday one of the news stations even said it was Ebola. People started losing their minds, calling it the apocalypse, saying that we’re all gonna die.”

  Blake didn’t initially respond; he instead moved around the sofa and stopped at the edge of the large front window. He leaned to the left and looked out over his property, scanning the massive front lawn.

  “Okay, you show up in my home covered in someone else’s blood and tell me the world is going to hell because of some super virus. So, if everything you say is correct, and I’m not going completely insane, we need a plan to…”

  As his words trailed off, Blake noticed that Dwight had looked from the television to the window for the third time in the last ten seconds.

  “What?”

  Dwight nervously rubbed his hands together. “We need to get the blinds shut, all of them.”

  “Why?”

  “Those things are more active at night and I think they may even see better when it’s dark.”

  Shaking his head and letting out a heavy sigh, Blake was skeptical, but figured it couldn’t hurt to humor his friend. He moved deliberately from one window to the next, closing off view from the outside world, and allowing himself a brief moment to digest all that had taken place over the last few hours. He still wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but he had a feeling he was about to find out.

  As he made his way from the south side of the home and back into the front room, he grabbed the remote, switched off the television, and dropped back onto the sofa. “Okay, we’re good.”

  “Wait,” Dwight said, “shouldn’t we keep that on, maybe get some updates?”

  “I just need to wrap my head around this first, get some perspective.”

  Dwight furrowed his brow, but didn’t respond.

  “Okay,” Blake said, “tell me everything.”

  “What?”

  “I want to know exactly how you ended up here and what you’ve seen out there. I’ve been dead to the world for the last three or four days, so for me this isn’t real.”

  “Trust me, Blake; this is real.”

  “So then, tell me what happened.”

  Dwight slid back against the cushion and allowed the oversized sofa to envelop him. He took in a deep breath and looked away from Blake. “I’m scared.”

  This was new, and almost as disturbing as what he’d seen on the short video clip from upstate. The man he’d known better than anyone else wasn’t scared of anything or anyone. Pushing three-hundred pounds and with arms the size of telephone poles, his good friend had never even spoken those two words before today, at least not in Blake’s presence.

  “Of what?”

  Rubbing his meaty hand over his face, Dwight fought back tears as he began. “Blake, I had to watch two of those things fight each other to get to Tucker. They did things to him that I’ve never seen before. I don’t want to remember, but I also can’t stop seeing it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “There was a big one, probably bigger than me.” Dwight shook his head. “He jumped from Tucker to Coach and dragged him out onto the balcony. That thing, it ripped Coach’s arm off without even trying.”

  “Dwight, you don’t have to—”

  “It was fast and strong. Stronger than anything I’ve ever seen. It howled like an animal and then started biting him…over and over again. Pulling Coach apart and eating him, I can’t even tell you how bad it was.”

  Blake sat in disbelief searching for the words, something that would help his friend, something to of
fer a bit of relief from what he’d been through. But nothing came.

  Dwight finally sat forward, wiped away the tears running down his face and forced a half smile. “They saved me.”

  “Who saved you?”

  “Morales, Finn, and Coach. We’d heard they were setting up shelters in the city and drove to Tucker’s house to pick him up. But it was a mess before we even got there, I almost didn’t make it out.”

  “How did you get out?”

  “I rushed the one that pulled Coach out onto the balcony, but it was too late. I hit that thing hard from a full sprint. I went over the railing and I landed on top of it. That thing hit the ground so hard that its head exploded against the concrete. I got up and ran—didn’t really know what else to do, so I kept running. I made it to the dock and then just kept going.”

  “You took Tucker’s boat—came all the way up here through the Long Island Sound?”

  “Yeah, I don’t think those things can swim.”

  “But why…why come here?”

  The first real sign that his friend was still here. Dwight actually formed a full smile. “You really think I was going to let you miss all this fun?”

  Blake returned a half-hearted smile and nodded. “I think you could have made an exception this—”

  Another explosion shook the home. This one was even closer than the previous two and lit the entire living room through the closed wood blinds.

  Before the shock wave ended, Dwight stood and started for the rear of the home. “Blake, we have to go…right now.”

  — 5 —

  Blake filled a single backpack and made his way from the bedroom into the kitchen. He opened and closed every cabinet and drawer on his way to the rear of the home, before stopping in the dining room and looking back across the interior. He shoved his hand through each pocket of the black bag, and with each second that passed, his heart rate climbed.

  “What is it?” Dwight said. “Your meds?”

  “Yeah man, I’m completely out.”

  “Gonna be bad?”

  “I really don’t know. I’ve been on them for so long, I don’t remember what it feels like to be normal, or how bad the pain is going to get.”

  Dwight didn’t respond. He looked away and focused on the back door.

  “Yeah,” Blake said, “I know man, but having that gun would have probably made things a bit more—”

  “You left it at the apartment?”

  His second residence, a twelve-hundred square-foot apartment he’d rented for the last several seasons, sat less than a mile from the stadium and offered a much shorter commute for those nights he preferred to stay in the city and avoid the trip back to Westchester County.

  “Yeah, dumb move I know. But I was getting a weird vibe the last few times I stayed in the city. Just forgot it was even there.”

  Dwight looked back at Blake, but didn’t say anything. His eyes were wide and he appeared to be breathing more rapidly than before. He turned nervously toward the rear of the home and then quickly back to his friend, looking more like a child who’d lost his parents than a three-hundred-pound professional athlete.

  “Big D…you okay man?”

  “We have to go; we need to get to the city.”

  “Your nephew?”

  “Yeah, he said the National Guard set up a shelter at the library. They were going to take a stand at the Queensboro Bridge. They aren’t letting those things into the city. We need to get down there by morning.”

  Blake turned toward the rear of the home, back toward the front door, and then to his friend. “There’s not a chance we could just drive there?”

  “Impossible, roads are so blocked we wouldn’t even make it to the 95.”

  “So, Tucker’s boat?”

  “It’s our only shot; we’re not getting into the city any other way. At least not tonight.”

  Blake stared at his friend, not quite sure what he should say. What could he say? He still wasn’t even sure he believed any of this and now he was leaving his home to get on a boat in the middle of the Long Island Sound and run from something he wasn’t sure was even a threat. He trusted his friend and would keep an open mind, but was more than confident the pair would be right back in his living room by morning.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  “It’s off to the left, at the far end of the dock. We need to stay quiet and out of sight. Those things—”

  Motioning to the rear slider, Blake pointed toward the rear of his property. “I’ll follow you out.”

  Blake pulled open the door and paused as Dwight craned his neck through the opening. His massive friend looked left, right, and then back to the left again. “Okay.”

  As Blake slid the door closed and engaged the lock, Dwight had run the short distance to the head-high shrub at the edge of the yard and stopped. The large man turned to face Blake and was now frantically waving him over.

  With wide eyes and quivering hands cupped around his mouth, Dwight whispered under his breath. “Let’s go.”

  Blake jogged across the lawn, slipping his arms into the straps of the backpack as he ran. He moved to his friend, and as he reached the head-high shrub dividing his yard from his neighbor’s, he looked past Dwight and stared down the length of the one-hundred-foot dock.

  “You good with navigating that thing in the dark? We may just want to—”

  A loud crashing sound pulled Blake’s attention back over his right shoulder. It was loud—not unlike a window being smashed—but it was also muffled. And it was close, much closer than he was comfortable with.

  He turned and stood on his toes, reaching for Dwight’s left arm as he peered over the shrub and into his neighbor’s home. It was dark, much darker than his own; however, as he scanned the world beyond, not much more than a few out of control fires in the distance lit the night sky.

  Once his eyes adjusted for depth, Blake squinted and looked to where he calculated the noise had originated. His neighbor’s rear slider remained intact, and although getting a clear image of anything beyond the first few feet from the door would be impossible, he had a bad feeling.

  Dwight was now also on his toes, attempting to follow Blake’s eyes as they moved from one window to the next. He held his right hand over his eyes, trying to shield them from the glare cast by the heavy moonlight, nudging Blake as he shook his head.

  “I don’t think it was coming from—”

  A ghostlike shadow moved from one side of the rear slider to the other. It jerked oddly as it rushed by, disappearing into the living room before either man could get a good look at it. However, they didn’t need to. Dwight knew what it was and had already dipped below the shrub, again beginning to breathe rapidly as he turned toward the dock.

  Blake had also seen what had driven his friend away, but he continued to stare into his neighbor’s home even as Dwight tugged at the backpack hanging from his shoulders. He was more curious than frightened and wasn’t exactly certain of what it was that he’d seen. Was it one of those things from the news or was it simply the reflection of the sparse cloud cover running through the light afforded by the full moon?

  Dwight grabbed a handful of Blake’s shirt and tugged him backward, their faces only inches apart. “We have to get the hell out of here, I mean right now before that thing sees us. Trust me, whatever it is, it’s way faster than either of us.”

  Blake pulled away. Out of the corner of his eye, he was able to see the translucent white figure yet again. This time, it was moving much slower and back toward the kitchen. As it came into full view, a woman’s screeching voice could be heard from inside the home.

  Although she was more than thirty feet away and behind the heavy glass slider, her tortured plea echoed through the night as though she sat only feet away.

  “JOHN NO… PLEASE NO. PLEEEEEEEASE NOOOOOOOOO.”

  The white shadowy figure emerged from the cover of darkness and stepped back toward the massive glass door. It held the woman by the neck and appeared to be
examining her nearly naked body. Blood ran down its thickly muscled back and disappeared into what remained of the tattered green scrubs the beast was wearing.

  Blake instantly recognized the aggressor as his neighbor John Santori. A man who up until now had saved the lives of others as a career. The gentle, soft-spoken man was rarely seen around the upscale neighborhood without a smile and a few kind-hearted words for anyone he happened by. But whatever that thing was, it was no longer the highly paid trauma surgeon from Long Island.

  Unable to turn away, Blake’s eyes finally fell upon the woman. Her name was Tamara, and although she’d lived next door for more years than he could remember, he’d only ever spoken to her twice. He knew that she was a writer of some sort—maybe fiction, maybe self-help—he wasn’t sure. Either way, she was a bit of a mystery.

  The beast who was once her beloved husband lowered his right arm. He brought her face down in front of his and let out a shriek that sounded more like a wounded animal than anything produced by a human. She turned away and her terrified eyes briefly drifted toward Blake.

  A look of confusion and shock crossed her face, but before she could turn away, her aggressor had taken notice. The beast quickly tossed her to the ground and followed the path of her eyes. It now saw what she saw.

  Not more than thirty feet away and only separated by a thin pane of glass, the former surgeon looked down from the raised living room and into Blake’s eyes. Leaning forward, its grotesque features were illuminated by the intensified moonlight.

  “Holy shhhh—”

  It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. The thing that was his neighbor had transformed into something completely unrecognizable as human. Its pupils had morphed into yellow slits that ran down the center of each eye, and what was once its mouth was now a bulging sucker that framed two rows of broken and jagged teeth. Thick trails of blood ran from its swollen lips down onto the translucent skin that wrapped tightly around its hairless torso.

  The beast lowered its head and cocked it to the right. He glared at Blake as if he was sizing him up, scrutinizing him for any outward signs of weakness. And when Blake failed to look away, it pounded its arms against the metal door frame, tilted his chin back, and shrieked with such force that the windows along the first floor rattled in their frames.