by Mic Shannon
“We need to hurry,” said James, taking point and running out ahead.
They moved through the city at a faster pace, their eyes scanning the corners and rooftops as they were trained to do. They were aware that they couldn’t see the enemy, but if there was anything they could see, they wanted to see it. The fog didn’t affect visibility much, but it began to get thicker than at the coast, and just being enveloped by it again shook them. The Chief scowled as they started passing body parts on the ground, instantly snapping back to thoughts of their insertion a month ago, and the men he lost, and the countless others who had been sacrificed waiting for them to deliver their intel.
They plastered their backs to the wall of another cement building, this time James peeking up the street. The Chief looked down at the body parts below him, observing the patches on the uniforms.
“Mexican Army,” whispered the Chief as he stood against the wall holding an arm. James turned around to look at him, holding the clothed limb by the sleeve, blood dripping from the lifeless fingers.
“You’re a bad, bad man,” he replied, shuttering at the image that his eyes had seen. An image that he could never soon forget.
The sun was high in the sky, with a strong breeze coming in from the ocean. As they continued moving from building to building and avoiding the open street, nearing the location where they had heard the gunfire, James peeked around another corner through a metal fence and pulled his head back.
“I see something,” he said, spooked, “Fifty meters.”
“What is it?”
James turned his head toward him, whispering out of the side of his mouth, “There’s, uh, bodies being dragged away.”
“How many?” asked the Chief, scratching his beard as he thought about their last encounter with a single enemy.
“Too many,” he said quickly, worried at the sight.
“Any way around?”
James peeked his head out again, peering through the fence, then retracted it, “No.”
“We should double back,” said the Chief, looking backward toward their path into the city.
“There’s something else,” said James, peering through the fence.
“What’s up?”
He paused, cutting his eyes to the ground, then looking back at him, “There’s an SUV sitting in the middle of the road next to a shredded personnel carrier, about twenty-five meters. It’s still running…”
The Chief lifted his eyebrows in surprise, staring at James while he processed everything that he just said. The vehicle was a miracle. A godsend. But there was still the horribly frightening thought of the unseen enemy. It was daunting to think that those things had torn apart an armored personnel carrier, easily twenty tons, but they had few options left. James moved away from the edge of the wall.
“I’ve got a plan,” he said with an obnoxious smile.
He handed his rifle to the Chief, then removed his blouse and took off his sweaty green undershirt, holding it up in front of him as the coastal wind whipped it around.
“Do you still have that grenade?” he asked the Chief, putting his blouse back on and grabbing his rifle.
“Same one,” he replied.
“Good, give it to me.”
The Chief handed him the grenade suspiciously as James began to tie his shirt to the fence protruding from the end of the wall. He tied it tight and held it up, confirming again that it caught the breeze.
“Hold this,” he said, handing the Chief the shirt, “and do not let it go. We don’t want them coming too early.”
The Chief held the tee shirt at the end with his two fingers, keeping the wind from flinging it out from behind the wall.
“Now, on three,” said James pulling the pin, “I toss this grenade and we hightail it around to the other end of the building straight to the car.”
“Jim, I’m not sure if I like this plan,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Three!” yelled James, rolling the grenade out twenty or so feet from behind the wall and grabbing the Chief by his blouse, turning to sprint away from the blast and forcing him to release the tee shirt.
*BOOM*
As the fragmentation grenade exploded, the tiny pieces of shrapnel shot out in every direction and kicked up dust, accompanied by a green tee shirt waving in the breeze. The two men frantically sprinted around the corner, circling the wall to the opposite side of the building and stopping. James peeked out to see if the bodies were still moving. Out of the seven bodies that he had observed being dragged, five lie still while two kept moving. In the distance, a horde of booming footsteps approached as the enemies reached the opposite end of the building looking for them. They could hear their claws digging into the brick and concrete as they jumped and climbed from the ground to the roof.
“Okay,” yelled the Chief, gripping him by his shoulder as he stood behind him stacked on the wall, “We gotta go. Now!”
“Wait, there’s two more…”
The Chief immediately broke out into a sprint toward the vehicle.
“Damn it,” mumbled James, sprinting after the Chief.
As the two men sprinted toward the SUV, the only thing they could think of was running faster. The last two bodies in the distance dropped to the ground, and the pressure from the weight of the enemies running in their direction left cracks in the concrete. Their eyes followed the claw marks, guessing the location of the unseen creatures as they moved from the ground to the sides of the buildings and climbed to the rooftops.
They reached the vehicle and hopped in frantically, slamming the doors. Behind them, the other seven had begun making their way back, a dauntingly horrifying spectacle of claw marks gripping the ground and ripping chunks from the walls and edges of the rooves. The Chief shifted into gear and punched the gas, immediately pressing the sport boost, utilizing all eight hundred horsepower. Peeling off, they heard a loud thud as the vehicle’s tires depressed downward and a puff of tire smoke rose from the back of the vehicle. James looked up to see holes in the roof of the SUV, growing larger as the enemy’s claws tore through the metal effortlessly.
“Get him off us, Jim, we’re slowing down!” yelled the Chief through his teeth as the holes in the front of the car roof began getting larger and peeling back the frame while the cracks in the concrete in his rearview mirror inched closer each passing moment.
James poked his head out of the window to look up, trying to see if he could make out a figure. Suddenly, the Chief cut the wheel to the left hard, attempting to shake the creature as he made a turn up another street. The extra weight on top caused the SUV to lean onto its two right wheels, lifting the left side off the ground.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” yelled James, gripping the window frame as he stared directly as the asphalt.
When the vehicle came crashing back down onto all four wheels, James, still halfway hanging out of the passenger side window, shot the Chief a look of terror.
“DO NOT DO THAT AGAIN!” he yelled at the Chief.
“Get rid of it! NOW!”
“I’m trying!”
He leaned back out of the window and extended his rifle, aiming over the roof blind as if he didn’t know how to shoot. His last four shots blasted out of the front of the rifle, all four of them ricocheting.
He leaned back in, tossing the rifle into the back seat and reaching under his seat frantically, then opening the glove box in desperation. A taser dropped into his lap. Instinctively, he grabbed it, cranked it to the highest voltage, reached up toward the holes and pressed the button. The high-powered device crackled with electricity as he jammed it into the invisible space where the creature was gripping roof of the vehicle.
Immediately there was a loud pop, causing both men to jump in fear as James pulled his arm back instinctively. Looking up through the holes, they both could see the white current running through the creature’s massive body, outlining it as it towered above the vehicle convulsing. James blinked twice.
“Hang on!” yelled the C
hief, extending his right arm over James chest as they passed underneath a low bridge.
The creature’s upper body collided with the bridge, crumbling the stone while the claws on its feet continued to grip the roof of the SUV, causing the vehicle to lean on its back end and lift the front wheels from the street. James instinctively put his arms over his face as one of the larger pieces of stone hit the windshield, cracking it.
The weight of the engine in the front end of the vehicle eventually pulled it back down onto its front wheels, peeling back the roof like a can opener as the SUV landed with a thud, free of its roof. With the Chief still pressing the pedal to the floor and the sport boost still engaged, the vehicle shot forward, sliding back and forth on the road before gripping and accelerating. James turned around in his seat and stood up out of the top of the vehicle, watching as the cracks in the concrete slowly disappeared in the distance.
“Well,” said James, breathing heavily with a sigh of relief as he flopped back down into the passenger seat, “we managed to get a vehicle.”
“Personally, I wanted a convertible,” said the Chief, looking up at the giant hole where the roof used to be, “but this’ll do.”
FRI, JULY 7th, 2034
700 mi Northeast of Alexandria, near Chicago
3:23 am
C ynthia stood in the mirror, staring at her makeup in the bathroom. She extended her arm and looked at her nails; they were perfect, with a light shade of green and a glossy finish, just like Michael liked them. She picked up her brush and began to run it through her long black hair. Despite her efforts, she could find no tangles, then smiled in the mirror, ready to head into the next room.
She exited the bathroom and saw her brother and father, smiling at her as the room suddenly faded away and became a beautiful cathedral, with a white carpet in front of her, a colorful bouquet in her hands and a white wedding dress so stylish and chic that cameras flashed in the distance. Her brother and father were in tuxedos now, and the cathedral held more than two hundred guests, the walls painted with custom tapestries of their fondest memories. As her father approached her, a warm smile on his face, he extended his arm, ready to take her to her groom.
“Hey,” said her father, leaning in toward her, “Hey, wake up…”
The cathedral vanished, and she felt a soft nudge on her shoulder.
“Hey, wake up,” whispered a faint voice.
Cynthia jumped, squinting and trying to focus on the figure standing in front of her wearing a hood. She blinked a few times, trying to help her eyes adjust to the darkness. At the side of her bed stood Natalie, her index finger over her lips.
“Shhh,” she whispered, waving her hand, “Come on…”
“What?” said Cynthia, lying in her bed, still trying to put everything together, “What’s going on?”
“SHHH!” Natalie emphasized again, “Put some clothes on.”
“What time is it?” asked Cynthia as she sat up, rubbing her eyes.
Natalie buried her face in her palm, then looked up, frustrated, “If I tell you, will you promise to be quiet?”
Cynthia nodded and covered her mouth with her hands. Natalie pressed the button on her wristphone and showed it to Cynthia. It was 3:25 am. Natalie quickly gestured for Cynthia to hurry up, and Cynthia swung her legs around and began putting on her old, dingy sweats.
Natalie led the way with Cynthia following close behind, sticking to her in her uncertainty. They opened the front door quietly and made their way outside, closing it behind them then ducking around the corner and stopping at the edge of the SWA Hut. Natalie poked her head around the corner.
“Umm, Nat,” whispered Cynthia with her sleeves over her hands as she tapped her on the shoulder then put her fingers in her mouth.
“What’s up?” she asked, “You see someone?”
“No,” said Cynthia, nervously, “I just have a question…”
“Save your questions, just follow me.”
They circled away from the square and ran to the edge of the row of SWA huts, stopping again and looking for any State Police on patrol. In the distance, about one hundred meters, there was an observation tower, with a spotlight dancing around the large open area in front of them. Behind the tower stood the thirty-foot, triple chain link fence. Natalie turned around and looked at Cynthia, then pulled down her hood, her hair pulled back in a ponytail revealing her deadpan demeanor.
“Okay, now,” she began, “when I say go, we’re gonna run from here to the fence on the other side of the compound.”
“What?!” asked Cynthia, looking at the tower and spotlight in the distance, “Are you crazy? We’ll be arrested!”
“It’s okay,” said Natalie, placing both hands on her shoulders, “You ready?”
Cynthia looked in her eyes, sensing her sincerity. She trusted Natalie, and whatever this was about, it seemed serious. Cynthia nodded.
“Okay, wait a minute,” said Natalie, pulling Cynthia’s hood over her head then pressing a button and looking at the time on her wristphone. She waited for a few more moments, “Alright, get ready.”
They both prepared to run. Natalie got into the ready position, still staring at her wristphone. She mouthed the numbers as the second hand spun around the dial. Three…two…one.
“Now,” whispered Natalie as they both broke out into a run, heading toward the tower. Cynthia breathed and stretched her legs like she had been taught, pushing out in front of Natalie. In front of her, she saw the spotlight, sweeping back and forth across the grass. They were heading right for it. Any moment that spotlight would see them, and they would be out in the open, ready for response teams to come arrest them for violating curfew.
Cynthia continued running, desperately hoping that Natalie hadn’t just landed them in the facility prison. Suddenly, as the bright light swung around toward the two women, it shut off, leaving them in darkness. It surprised Cynthia, giving her a much-need boost of energy as she continued her nervous sprint toward the gate.
Passing the tower, Cynthia looked up at the observation balcony and saw two young Police troopers, staring down at them casually. Natalie trailed several feet behind, lazily throwing her thumb in the air for the two men.
When they reached the gate, the spotlight snapped back on and began its dance around the open field. Both women came to a stop next to the gate, Natalie bending over with her hands on her knees, then standing up and placing her hands on her head, trying to catch their breath. Cynthia, breathing heavily, broke the silence.
“So, what are we doing Nat?” she asked, her eyebrows scrunched on her face as she wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her hoodie, “Escaping?”
“No,” scoffed Natalie, “I wouldn’t let you leave those boys behind. I need your help.”
Cynthia raised her eyebrows, “My help?”
“Come on,” said Natalie, “we have to hurry.”
Natalie darted off into a jog with Cynthia close behind as they followed the length of the fence, staying in the shadows surrounding the large square as they headed toward the front end of the facility where the café, State Police barracks, Headquarters building, and front gate all stood. Cynthia ran her hands along the metal fence, never having had the opportunity to get that close to the facility’s outer border to touch it. About halfway to the front gate, Natalie stopped, a pair of large trees between them and the square. She turned around and looked at Cynthia, whose face was strewn with confusion. Natalie’s eyes softened.
“So far there have been six murders,” she said as she cut her eyes, pulling her cigarette pack from her pocket and snatching out a small handkerchief, “not just one.”
Natalie unrolled her handkerchief and grabbed a small magnet, shaped like a rock, “The girl that we saw lying in the field behind the huts was the third. There were two more last week, and one last night. All young girls about your age.”
She walked over to a maintenance door built into the hard exterior of the fence. There was no handle, just hinges and flush
cracks marking the frame. A small, red sticker was positioned right beside the door, signaling swipe card access. Natalie approached, then placed the magnet on the red sticker, causing a loud click as the door swung open slowly.
“Hurry up,” said Natalie, “we only have ten seconds before it resets.”
Cynthia followed through the doorway and out into the openness on the opposite side of the fence. It was pitch black, besides the towers in the distance, their spotlights scanning the facility and the Medical center on the other side of the road. They stayed close to the fence and followed it toward the front gate. When they approached the front, Natalie stopped them and knelt, both women pressing their shoulders against the fence behind the State Police barracks. Cynthia’s heart pounded in her chest; she felt like they were in the lion’s den, the large building full of men way too close for comfort.
“Wait here,” said Natalie, sneaking off into the darkness ahead. Cynthia watched, squinting to try and see Natalie’s frame in the pitch-black backdrop. Suddenly, Natalie pressed the button to turn on her wristphone, creating an illuminating glow from the small screen for a second before turning off. Cynthia grit her teeth nervously.
In the distance, another wristphone lit up and then turned off. Cynthia craned her neck, but could see nothing. She continued kneeling, waiting for Natalie to return. Just ahead, she saw two hooded figures appear in the darkness, staying low as they came over to her and knelt next to the fence.
The man with Natalie was of a short stature, somewhat frail, with a pointy nose and glasses. Cynthia looked over him, her mind full of questions. The man looked at her, then at Natalie.
“So, this is her?” he said.
“Yeah,” replied Natalie.
“Cool,” said the man, “Well, let’s get moving.”
“Wait,” said Cynthia, “who are you?”
“My name’s Deke,” he said, extending his hand.
Cynthia shook it reluctantly, “Soo Nat, like, what’s going on?
Natalie took a deep breath, “Remember when I said I needed your help?”
“Yes.”