by Jake Bible
“Are there suits on this side?” Toloski adds. “Or did we have them all?”
“We had them all,” Kreigel says. “Bolton and Lowell dumped theirs as soon as they got inside. Unless there’s a cache we don’t know about, the folks in there don’t have a lot of time before they choke to death.”
“Turn back?” Taylor asks. “We have Dr. Probst on our side. She’s the scientist and really the only asset we have to protect.”
“Kinda ruthless, LT,” Kreigel says.
“Just a little,” Holt adds.
“Wouldn’t be able to live with myself if we bail on Bolton,” Toloski says. “He’s not a frogman, but he is SpecOps. Kinda like letting a cousin drown because you don’t want your feet to get wet.”
“I don’t think that analogy fits, but I get your point,” Taylor says. “We keep going and reassess once we’re inside.”
The hissing and scraping sounds make Taylor shiver, and he glances at the oozing creatures that slowly crawl across the mountainside after them.
“At least we’ll get away from those things for a while,” he adds.
“Hooyah,” Holt says.
“Hooyah,” Kreigel and Toloski echo.
The men study their route, and then get to work hammering in cams and measuring out the exact length of rope they’ll need to scale across the mountainside and climb up into the gaping front entrance of the bunker.
***
The door to the Naval Station Everett bunker is locked tight, and no one will open up no matter how hard Linda pounds against it.
“HEY!” she screams. “I’m a nurse with a patient! Let us in!”
“Drop it, Linda,” Terrie sighs as she slowly pushes up out of her wheelchair. “Someone must have seen those things back there and beat us here. They aren’t opening that door.”
“They have to!” Linda shouts, her fists still banging away. “Abandoning anyone in medical distress is a dischargeable offense!”
“I don’t believe they care anymore,” Terrie says as she reaches out and grips Linda’s shoulder. “Come on. We need to find shelter somewhere else.” An egg falls from the sky and snaps a telephone pole in half. “We should probably get a move on.”
“Assholes!” Linda screams, and is echoed by a loud bark from Biscuit.
“You tell ‘em, boy,” Terrie smiles. She turns and grimaces as her wounds stretch. “Wish you had a saddle, Biscuit. I’d ride you to safety.”
“Get back in the wheelchair,” Linda orders. “I’ll keep pushing.”
“You must be exhausted,” Terrie replies. “I can walk just…”
A huge explosion shakes the base as a massive fireball rises into the sky from the direction of the docks. A roar fills the air, and all Terrie can think about is the sight of those massive whale things that came from out of Puget Sound and attacked the docks. Biscuit lets out a whimper, then a snarling bark, and presses himself against Terrie’s leg.
“My hero,” Terrie says, then looks at the wheelchair. “Fine. But you only push until we find shelter. If we can’t find any, then I get up and walk. I can’t have you passing out from exhaustion.”
“And I can’t have you passing out from blood loss because you rip open your sutures,” Linda says.
“I walked from Seattle to here with my own crappy sutures. I think I’ll manage just fine with your doctor’s fancy ones,” Terrie says as she hobbles to the wheelchair and sits down, involuntarily sighing with relief. Linda gives her a knowing smile. “Oh, just be quiet and push.”
Linda grabs onto the handles and starts pushing, steering them towards the East side of the base and the barracks where the National Guard soldiers are housed. Or were housed, since all of them are currently fighting on the docks.
Another explosion rocks the base, and two more fireballs light up the sky. There are several more roars as well as the dwindling sounds of gunfire punctuated by the screams of dying men.
***
A procession of ooze creatures shuffle past as Thomas and Dr. Hall stay hidden in the shadows of an alcove, their eyes peering through the heavy-duty plastic of the face masks they wear, locked onto the monstrosities that seem to fill the streets.
“We’ve barely gone two blocks,” Dr. Hall whispers.
Thomas replies with a punch to the man’s shoulder, an indication to shut the hell up. Dr. Hall rubs at his shoulder, then starts to worry at the full gas mask that covers his head. He receives another punch to the shoulder and a stern look from Thomas.
“Stop fidgeting,” Thomas says. “Your nervous behavior will draw attention to us.”
“How old are you?” Dr. Hall asks.
“It doesn’t matter,” Thomas replies.
“Well, it does,” Dr. Hall says as he cinches up the straps to the backpack of supplies Thomas gave him. “I have several PhDs and have spent years studying….”
“Shut. Up,” Thomas growls.
Several of the ooze creatures pause and shift their green goo bodies in the direction of Thomas and Dr. Hall. The young man presses a hand to Dr. Hall’s chest and shoves him further back into the shadows. With the other hand, Thomas removes a .45 pistol from the holster at his hip and slowly, carefully pulls back the hammer.
The ooze creatures shuffle a couple of feet towards the alcove, then stop as shouts and gunfire from a few blocks over draws their attention. They rejoin the shuffling group and continue down the street. It takes several minutes for the entire group to pass, and as soon as they are gone, Thomas grabs Dr. Hall’s arm and yanks him out into the street.
“We’re taking too long,” Dr. Hall says. “The groups of these things are getting larger and showing up more frequently. They are adding to their numbers somehow.”
“Somehow? The goo is eating people, man,” Thomas says as he places his pistol back in its holster. “It’s swallowing them up and becoming them. Like the Blob meets the Body Snatchers.”
“You know about those movies?” Dr. Hall asks. “How old are you again?”
“Netflix, dude,” Thomas says. “I know how to work a mouse. Now shut the fuck up and come on. We need to get across the street and through those yards. Just a few more blocks and we’ll be on Washington. We get there, and we can move faster using all the shops as cover.”
“The shops?” Dr. Hall asks.
“The retail shops, dude,” Thomas says. “Lots of corners and entranceways. Plus plenty of glass so we can see reflections from all directions without revealing our location. Then once past those, we’ll be on the expressway. Open ground to just run.”
“How do you know all this stuff?” Dr. Hall asks.
“Security training,” Thomas sighs. “The Secret Service goes over it with us each year since my mom is a senator. Or was a senator. She’s just another corpse alone in an empty house now.”
“I’m very sorry about your mom, Thomas,” Dr. Hall says. “But I am glad I found you. Without that key card and those codes I probably wouldn’t be able to get inside the White House and down to the President.”
“You probably still won’t,” Thomas says as they quickly cross the street. “The President is in lockdown.”
“Your mother would have known that,” Dr. Hall says. “That must be what the codes are for.”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” Thomas says. “Personally, I’d rather go find some beer and just drink away the past few days.”
“Okay, you are too young for that,” Dr. Hall says. “You’re only a teenager, what do you know about drinking the days away?”
“I’m a thug, remember?” Thomas says.
“I already apologized for saying that,” Dr. Hall replies. “No need to rub it in.”
“No need if I have beer,” Thomas says. “Another perk of being a senator’s son. I’ve had to grow up fast with some kids that probably aren’t the best influence, yet they’ll grow up to the be the future leaders of the free world. They’re probably just walking piles of goo now if they didn’t get the hell out of town.”
Th
e young man leads Dr. Hall through a wooden gate and into a small backyard. They quickly scan the yard, then sprint across it to the back gate and the alleyway beyond. Once in the alleyway, Thomas leads them east past the backs of a few houses until he finds one with an iron gate.
“Through here,” he says. “It’s a corner house and will connect us to two streets. Kind of a short cut.”
“Kind of?” Dr. Hall asks.
“Once we get out front we’ll have to cross a park,” Thomas says. “It’s not huge, but there’s enough open space to give us away if the goo things are looking.”
“Then let’s go a different direction,” Dr. Hall says.
“It’ll take too long,” Thomas argues. “We go this way, and then run our asses off when we get to the park.”
Thomas yanks Dr. Hall by the arm through the backyard until they get to a matching gate that looks out onto the streets out front. Dr. Hall starts to speak, but Thomas punches him again. They both see the half dozen small groups of ooze creatures that mill about the park.
Thomas taps Dr. Hall on the face mask and then points at the park. He gestures to the area that has the most space between groups of creatures, then motions in a zigzag pattern, indicating they will have to dodge the last couple of groups to get to the other side.
Dr. Hall shakes his head vigorously. Thomas glares. Dr. Hall shakes his head again. Thomas balls up his fists. Dr. Hall looks from Thomas, to the creatures, and then back to Thomas. After a few seconds he nods and tenses his body for the sprint ahead.
Thomas holds up three fingers, then drops one, two, three, and takes off running. Dr. Hall is right behind him, but quickly starts struggling to keep up. They hit the park, and Thomas aims for a large gap between two ooze groups. He gets past and glances over his shoulder to see Dr. Hall almost get snagged by some of the ooze creatures.
Pulling his pistol, Thomas waits for Dr. Hall to catch up, then starts running again, this time at an angle to the next group of ooze creatures. They get almost to the group, then cut to the right and dodge behind it while also avoiding a second group that is only a few feet away. The ooze creatures reach out for them, and Dr. Hall screeches as he feels a gooey hand slap against his side.
“Aaaaah!” Dr. Hall yells as he looks down to see his jacket smoldering, but it stops quickly as the man continues running.
Thomas and Dr. Hall get to the far side of the park and skid to a stop, Dr. Hall’s feet almost going out from under him as he hits a thick patch of ash and mud. Thomas grabs onto the man’s arm and helps keep him upright as they both stare out at the scene before them.
“What the hell are those?” Thomas asks.
“Columba livia rustica,” Dr. Hall says. “The feral rock pigeon.”
“Pigeons? Jesus,” Thomas says as he watches the flock of close to a hundred ooze birds mill about the middle of the street. The things crap continuously, causing the asphalt to burn and smoke with each dropping. “This is the grossest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Not me,” Dr. Hall says. “What now?”
“We stomp some pigeons,” Thomas says. “And keep running.”
There’s a shout from far off in the distance, and they both look that way. When they look back at the ooze pigeons, they see that each one has stopped moving, their tiny green heads pointed in their direction. Ooze drips from one beak as the pigeon opens its mouth and lets out a small hiss.
“That’s not a coo,” Dr. Hall says.
“No shit, genius,” Thomas replies. “Come on.”
“This isn’t a good plan,” Dr. Hall complains.
“Dude, I don’t think there are any good plans,” Thomas says as he steps into the street, pulls back his right leg, and lets loose with a powerful kick that sends three ooze pigeons flying. “Just like that. Kick ‘em like a soccer ball.”
“I hate soccer,” Dr. Hall says. “I’ve always preferred a good hike to organized sports.”
“Shut up and kick,” Thomas snaps as he sends four more pigeons flying.
“Right,” Dr. Hall says. “Kick.”
He moves forward and kicks an ooze pigeon out of the way, but doesn’t send it very far. He kicks again, and this time manages to launch one of the things high up into the air. But, again, it doesn’t go very far as it comes falling back almost into the exact same place it had been.
“Dude!” Thomas yells. “Put some effort into it! Stop acting like a…! AAAAAH!”
Thomas howls and jumps back as several pigeons jump onto his right leg, the ooze keeping them stuck to his jeans. The material smokes and starts to dissolve as Thomas whirls about and kicks, desperate to get the things off.
“Help me!” Thomas yells.
Dr. Hall kicks out with both feet over and over to try to get to Thomas, but he can’t get enough ooze pigeons out of the way before the young man is covered in the things and taken down to the pavement.
“Get them off me!” Thomas screams from under the pile of creatures. “Get them off! AAAAH! NO! NONONONO!”
Three ooze pigeons hop onto his face mask and begin crapping ooze at an alarming rate. The heavy-duty plastic of the face mask sizzles, then dissolves, and Thomas’s screams for help become wails of agony as the ooze begins to eat away at his skin.
“Oh shit!” Dr. Hall yells as he punches a couple of pigeons off Thomas, kicks a few more away, and tries to yank the young man to his feet. “Get up!”
“I can’t!” Thomas yells, and points towards his legs.
Dr. Hall looks down and sees the lower halves of Thomas’s legs are a smoking, melted mess. Bits of jeans, globs of ooze, and hunks of flesh and bone litter the pavement. More ooze pigeons move forward, and Dr. Hall screams and kicks towards them, but the things don’t slow as they are drawn to the wounded Thomas.
“You’ll have to carry me!” Thomas yells.
Dr. Hall looks at the encroaching mass of ooze pigeons, then at the young man in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he says as he grabs onto the straps of Thomas’s pack and pulls it off the teenager. “I’m so sorry.”
“Hey!” Thomas yells as he swats at Dr. Hall. “What the fuck, man?”
“I have to get to the White House,” Dr. Hall says. “They need to know what is happening.”
“Dude! You can’t do this! You can’t leave me here to die!” Thomas pleads as he thrashes against Dr. Hall. His hand snags Dr. Hall’s face mask and yanks it off, but fails in stopping the man from taking the backpack. “You fuck!”
“You’re already dead,” Dr. Hall says. “That stuff is in your blood stream. You’re melting from the inside now.”
Dr. Hall let’s go of Thomas, and the young man falls back onto the pavement. The doctor kicks and stomps his retreat from the screaming teenager, keeping his eyes forward, hoping he can figure out his own way to the White House.
“You fucker! You mother fucker!” Thomas shouts until his voice is strangled and cut off.
Dr. Hall gets past the last of the ooze pigeons and keeps moving, never daring to look back over his shoulder at what has become of the teenager. If he did that, then he knows he’d see that boy in his nightmares for the rest of his life. He just swallows hard against the stench of ammonia and runs.
***
Kreigel swings his legs up over the lip of the broken ledge of what’s left of the bunker’s front entrance, then instantly takes a knee and unslings his carbine, bringing it to his shoulder as he scans the entrance while the rest of the Team struggle to get up into the bunker. A roar shakes the air, and Kreigel spins about and stares at the world outside the bunker.
“Not liking what I’m seeing,” Kreigel says as his eyes are drawn to the many craters that dot the landscape and the monsters that crouch by them. “The dog spiders are changing.”
“They still puking the slimy dish towels?” Toloski asks as he grabs onto the ledge and tries to pull himself up into the bunker. Taylor, right below him, places his hand on the man’s ass and shoves. “Thanks, LT.”
“My
day is never complete unless I feel your ass, Toloski,” Taylor says as he nimbly follows the man into the bunker.
The two men join Kreigel and unsling their carbines, both using the scopes to study the far off monsters.
“What are they doing?” Toloski asks.
“Not sure,” Kreigel says as he zeroes in on one of the monsters and watches it twitch and howl. “Looks like it’s in pain or something.”
“I’m not against that,” Holt says, the last one up into the bunker. “I’m not against the green things fucking off either.”
Everyone turns to look at the mountainside and the menagerie of ooze creatures that stand on the edge. Focused on the Team, many of the ooze creatures keep shuffling and fall right off the mountainside, their gelatinous bodies breaking apart as they tumble a few hundred feet before coming to a gooey halt.
“Come on, suckers,” Holt says to the rest. “Come and get us.”
The ooze deer snorts and snarls, then leaps at the bunker ledge, almost clearing the open space, but coming up just short as its ooze hooves scrape a few feet below. The thing waves its ooze legs in the air as it falls, falls, falls, splats.
“Damn,” Toloski says. “Not what you see every day.”
More and more of the creatures follow the ooze deer’s lead and start leaping at the broken bunker entrance, but also come up short.
“Come on,” Taylor says. “Let’s find the others. Maybe when we get back, these things will have all lemminged themselves to death. Kreigel, you’re on point.”
“Got it,” Kreigel says as he stands and turns towards the darkness of the bunker. He pulls a flare from a pocket on his leg, lights it, and tosses it as far as he can.
The bunker is lit up by glaring red light as the Team slowly make their way around the cracks and crevices, the arched and broken concrete, and the fallen struts that make up what is left of the bunker entrance.