by Hunter Shea
He jerked the wheel hard, swerving into the empty oncoming lanes. They whizzed past the idling cars, some horns blaring. It was hard to tell whether they were upset at his breaking the rules of the road or just pissed that they didn’t think of doing it first. A check of his side-view mirror confirmed that he had started a trend as more headlights gathered behind the barreling RV.
“It’s the end of everything,” he finally said. “Megiddo is a biblical root for the word Armageddon. They’re going to burn everything to cinders. The official story will be that terrorists ignited a dirty bomb. The military is going to use their colossal fuckup as a means of strengthening their position. I almost feel sorry for the Middle East bastards that will bear the brunt of this.”
Ling punched the dashboard.
“They can’t do that! Do they realize how many corporate CEOs are out here in the Hamptons? The economy will go into a tailspin.”
“It’ll recover. Things will shift from Wall Street to the military. Don’t think they haven’t considered every option. Operation Megiddo was devised a year after the 9/11 attacks. I’ll bet people have been itching to use it ever since.”
“So what do we do?”
“I’m going to try to get us past the roadblocks. If we’re lucky, I’ll catch a buck private I can bluster through.”
A mile past Main Street, Dalton and Meredith came upon another roadblock. Two camouflaged Humvees were parked nose to nose, blocking off the westbound lanes. A handful of men bearing rifles stood in front of the all-terrain vehicles, staring down angry motorists.
They had no problem letting them pass on the eastbound side, toward the end of the island, not that Dalton was about to slow down. He didn’t even give them a sideways glance as he sped past.
“We’re not getting out this way,” Meredith said, turning in her seat. She thought she saw a flash of white by the roadblock. The echo of a rifle report filtered through the patrol car’s half-open windows. “Jesus, I think they just shot someone!”
Dalton elbowed his window—hard. “What the hell is this, Afghanistan?” Meredith watched the muscles in his forearms ripple as he flexed his grip on the wheel. “Okay, first we have to get to Lake Avenue. I have an idea where we can go after that.”
Meredith prayed he did, because turning back was no longer an option. If they were going to make it out of Montauk, it wouldn’t be on the roads.
She spotted the road sign for Lake Avenue. “Quick, left up ahead.”
The car came to a screeching halt. They were blocked from entering by a barricade of cars. He flashed the lights and hit the siren. No one moved.
Jumping out of the car, Meredith barked at the drivers. “Back up! Back up! We have to get through! Come on, move it, now!”
She tapped a car with the butt of her flashlight for emphasis. It broke the drivers out of their trance and they moved aside.
A flare of pain in her hip almost dropped her when she walked back to the car. “I have no idea where my crutch is,” she said, scanning the backseat.
Dalton caressed the side of her face with the back of his fingers. “We must have left it back at IGA. Don’t worry. I’ll be your crutch from here on.” She held his hand and kissed it.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Scrambling into the back, she slipped her arms into the flamethrower harness. What a courtship! If they made it out alive, she had resigned herself to happily being called a cougar for the rest of her life.
Judging by the open front and garage doors, most of the residents had hit the road, hoping to get out. There was just no way to get them back. Hunkering down in a secure part of the house had to be better than sitting partially exposed on the road. And now the military was opening fire on them! Meredith’s conscience was strained to the max. On the one hand, she wanted to warn everyone and get them back in their homes. But would that be enough? On the other hand, she was going to fight like hell to live. The whole thing had her sick to her soul.
They spotted a family of four straddling the peak of a ranch house. Two of the war machines prowled up and down the front of the house, casting hungry glances at the family. The boys—neither looked older than seven—squealed as their mother pulled them to her chest.
“Ready?” Dalton asked.
“No, but that doesn’t matter, does it?”
Honking the horn, he got the attention of one of the creatures. It had a second to glare at them before he mashed it with the front of the car’s grille. The beast flipped into the front of the house, hitting the boards with a bone-jarring crack.
Meredith leapt out of the car as best she could, igniting the flamethrower. The second war machine, the first scrawny one she’d seen—it must have been a puppy, or whatever you’d call them—was doused in chemicals and flames before it could lunge for her. Dalton fired into the blaze.
She swiveled to the broken one by the front door and lit it up for good measure. She wasn’t going to take any chances.
“You can come down now,” Dalton called up to the roof.
“Quick, hand the boys down to me.”
While the father passed them to Dalton, Meredith watched his back, lighting up the darkness with short bursts. The sobbing boys huddled behind him.
Meredith looked up and managed a strangled cry before the mother and father were tackled by a war machine the size of a Shetland pony. They collapsed onto the slate walkway in a pile, the creature feasting on the woman’s face as they fell.
Dalton jumped back, tumbling over the boys. The M16 fired uselessly into the air.
Nerves rattled, Meredith somehow managed to keep her footing. She couldn’t get the creature without burning the couple.
The war machine looked up at her, its mouth dripping with the woman’s flesh and muscle. One of its massive paws, tipped with long talons, pushed into the man’s chest, perforating his lung, followed by a loud hiss of rushing air. Blood gurgled from his lips.
The boys screamed.
The creature locked on to them.
It leapt.
Meredith caught it with a finger of flame in midair. The beast rolled to the side, setting the lawn on fire as it tried to deaden the flame.
Dalton regained his footing. “Get the boys in the car!”
She reached for both their hands but one slipped free as her leg gave way. The little boy ran to his parents. His father, more dead than alive, reached a quivering arm out to him.
“Dalton!”
The creature was still on fire, but that wasn’t enough to bring it down. The flesh had melted from its muzzle. A shelf of bone and teeth snapped at the air. It stalked toward them on sturdy legs, impervious to pain.
She ushered the boy into the car, practically throwing him into the front seat.
Gunfire erupted as Dalton shot at the war machine. The giant beast broke into a run, leaping onto the three members of the family, setting them ablaze.
The boy’s tormented screams were beyond words, incomprehensible.
While they burned, the beast tore at their flesh. Dalton advanced, firing round after round into the creature until it finally collapsed. The boy’s smoldering body lay atop his mother. The man was still alive, crying out, his mouth on fire. Dalton fired a round into his head, ending his misery.
It was hard to see everything through her tears. All Meredith wanted to do was fall upon the lawn and curl up into a ball. If she tried hard enough, she could convince herself this night had never happened. If not, she’d gladly wait until someone took her away and loaded her up with enough drugs to forget even her own name.
She snapped out of her paralysis when Dalton grabbed her arm, helping her to her feet.
“Come on, we have to get out of here.”
He helped her out of the harness and threw it into the backseat. His sure hands guided her into the car.
The boy sat in the center of the front seat, watching his family burn. She cradled his head, turning him away from the horror.
Be strong for the boy. B
e strong for Gray. Don’t fall apart now. Not yet.
They turned out of Lake Avenue and had to practically smash through the cars in their way to the Montauk Highway.
Meredith kissed her tears as they melted into the boy’s downy hair.
CHAPTER 41
There was no shame when Can Man felt his bladder release. The hideous demon lowered its head and gave a garbled growl. He’d never even imagined that nature could conceive of something so grotesque. It resembled a deformed griffin without the eagle’s wings. As a kid, he’d been fascinated by Greek lore and mythology.
His fascination had turned to sheer terror.
Afraid to move, he held his arm across his face. There may have been honor in facing your own demise, but he couldn’t look into its cancerous gaze. Better to die with his eyes closed.
He felt a rush of air sweep over his prone form. There was a heavy whump, the shattering of glass, the cracking of bone and another thump.
Shaking all over, Can Man peeked over his forearm.
A forest green vehicle idled by his feet. The creature was twisted within the wheel well, its jaws snapping wildly at the air. A soldier lay sprawled in the front of the car, covered in pebbled glass. Blood trailed from a wound in his head.
Can Man struggled to his feet, pulling the can from his arch. Keeping his eye on the crushed, captive beast, he knelt down to check the soldier’s pulse. His fingers came away dripping with blood. He must have severed an artery as well. The poor boy was gone.
He took the man’s service revolver from the holster at his hip and walked to the struggling demon. Even though its body had been twisted so badly the front and rear halves would never work in tandem again, it desperately wanted to get him. It tried to bark, an impotent wail of rage.
Standing close to it, Can Man fired into its head. Only then did he notice the silence.
No one was shooting. There were no more barked commands.
He turned to the lighthouse.
Everyone was dead.
The demons had won.
Dalton got back on the empty eastbound lanes of the Montauk Highway. Meredith had the boy on her lap, the seat belt across them. The boy was in shock. He stared at the dashboard, unresponsive to Meredith’s soothing words.
Dalton removed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. If he could get them to the tip of the island, they might have a chance. The Montauk Historical Society, which ran the landmark lighthouse, had a couple of skiffs moored by the beach. They had been taking photographers out around the lighthouse for a series of photo shoots to revamp their webpage and marketing materials. He prayed they were still there and that they had outboard motors. He couldn’t remember if they were sailboats. He had no clue how to operate a sailboat.
“You okay?” he said to Meredith.
“Look at all those people,” she said, gazing at the terrified faces staring back at them in the bottleneck of cars.
He couldn’t. Each face was a reminder that he couldn’t save everyone, no matter how hard he tried. He was abandoning the people he’d sworn to protect. Local law enforcement had been usurped by the military and whatever clandestine group had created the creatures in the first place. Their only hope was that the war machines would be contained and they could return to the safety of their homes.
Holding out hope was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment.
“It’s like watching one of those disaster movies,” she continued, stroking the boy’s hair. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”
“Getting you both to safety is my only concern, right now. With any luck, we’ll be on the water in ten minutes.”
“War machines,” Meredith whispered, trying to reconcile the mysterious creatures she’d pursued for years with their stark reality.
Dalton looked over at the boy, at the wide brown freckles on his cheeks and nose, his dark, mussed hair. What was going on inside his young mind? How could he even process what he saw?
When his eyes went back to the road, he jerked the wheel to the right, swerving onto the shoulder. The car rode into a dangerous angle, close to tipping over.
A huge RV, followed by a string of cars, plowed ahead, never once veering from their course. If he hadn’t pulled over, they would have barreled straight through him.
He slowed down, easing from the runnel that ran alongside the shoulder. Once the last car had passed, he flipped on his lights and got back into the lane. Quite a number of cars had angled themselves so they could take a run at the clear lanes. They held back when they saw him.
Despite everything, there was still a modicum of respect for the law. It made his decision to leave that much heavier.
His heart jackhammered.
“Jesus, that was close,” Meredith said, clutching the boy. His expression hadn’t changed.
“I can’t blame them for trying to find a way out of that jam, but that RV was prepared to kill us in the process. Panic may kill more people than those creatures.”
Watching the red taillights fade into the distance, he sped on, hoping to make the lighthouse before complete pandemonium broke out.
A county cop car was pulled across one of the access roads. Meredith gasped and put her hand over the boy’s eyes.
“Is that Kanelos?” she said.
Jimmy Kanelos lay in a crumpled, crimson heap a few feet from them. Dying tendrils of smoke wafted from his remains. It looked like the slight man had been turned inside out.
“He must have gotten infected,” Dalton said. Poor Kanelos. On a good day, the guy was afraid of his own shadow. But he was a good cop, facing down his fears day after day. He didn’t deserve to die like this. No one did.
“Jesus, Jimmy,” Meredith said. He could hear the tears in her voice.
“Are you out of your mind, Sorely?” Dr. Ling shouted. Her knees were drawn up and her hands were planted on the dash. “That was a cop you almost creamed.”
Don pushed the Winnebago as fast as it could go. “As you can see, law and order has been suspended for the foreseeable future.”
“That doesn’t give you a right to manslaughter.”
He had to remind himself that she was a doctor. Everything for her was about saving lives. She wasn’t prepared for a situation like this. Who really was?
“I have to get us to a checkpoint before Megiddo goes into full effect. One second too late and we’re toast.”
They blew through the plaza, nearly clipping a man on a bicycle weaving in and out of traffic. There were bodies everywhere with no one tending to them.
An orange fireball erupted by the gazebo. Don winced, shielding his eyes.
“Oh my God, no!” Dr. Ling pressed her face against the passenger window.
A line of soldiers, each gripping a flamethrower, marched across the grassy plaza, setting everything ablaze. Both the dead and dying were set alight.
It had begun. Once the cleansing started, it wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left.
An eruption of screams rose from the town’s center as the soldiers moved from the plaza and turned their deadly flames to the cars hoping to flee the town. Whole families were roasted in their cars. Don never felt so sick in his life.
Bad people, downright evil bastards, were controlling every move from the comfort of their offices far, far from here. With Megiddo in full effect, he assumed the ghosts that were DARPA were long gone. Mission accomplished, you fucking murderers! They weren’t the only ones to blame. No, the buck didn’t stop there. He swore that if he made it out, he would do everything in his power to blow the goddamn lid off. A ton of incriminating evidence was right here, in the Winnebago. All he needed to do was get it and everyone inside to safety.
He laid his hand on the horn, honking like it was midnight on New Year’s Eve.
“What are you doing?”
“Hoping people will hear and follow us. They can’t stop everyone!”
He waved his hand out the window, urging people to take his lead and fall in line.
“You might want to move to the back, and bring Dr. Greene with you.”
“Why?”
“Because this big tub is going to be a battering ram. Once I blow a hole through the checkpoint, everyone behind us is free to get the hell out of here.”
He saw the flashing lights and wondered if he’d have enough time to jump to safety before the car was on him. Whistling over to the cop several cars down from him, he rolled onto the hood of the Toyota. The woman at the wheel honked her horn as if she could scare him off.
The police car came to a screeching halt, narrowly missing the patrol car parked on the side of the road.
“Crap, that’s my car,” Mickey Conrad said, sliding off the hood.
He was relieved to see Dalton and Hernandez inside, along with a little boy. At least someone was left.
“You owe me a steak for taking my ride,” he said. Dalton sprang from the car, looking like he wanted to hug him.
“I thought you were—”
Mickey shook his head. “Almost. I barely made it out of there. I found a Montauk PD car on a side street and just drove. Dalton, it’s a complete disaster. They used local and county cops as bait. I . . . I found Sergeant Campos.”
“We saw him, too.”
“As far as I can tell, we’re the only ones left. Winn and I have been trying to convince people to get to the marinas.”
“Winn? Where is he?”
The wounded cop came up to him, leaning against a car. He looked like hell. “I’m not dead yet, no matter how much it hurts not to be.” He turned to Mickey. “It’s useless. I just spoke to a guy back there. Said his brother and a bunch of other people got on a fishing boat an hour ago. Looks like they were shot down by the Coast Guard. Word’s gotten around. No one wants to take a chance on the water.” His breathing sounded wet, hampered.
“That’s where we’re headed,” Dalton said. “If those skiffs are still by the lighthouse.”