by Evan Currie
“Forget that, what the fuck is that back in the clearing?”
Ben barely glanced in that direction. “An infected revenant.”
“It has a face! A person’s face!”
Ben sighed, “Yeah, I figured as much. It could have been from animal prey, but with all the bodies back at the lodge, it was good odds.”
Kirth stared. “You knew. That was a person.”
“It was a dead person.”
“Bullshit it was! I saw it move. It took down a freaking gator, that’s not something the dead do!”
Ben growled, grabbed the Marine Sergeant by the shoulder, and dragged him back toward the clearing. Kirth quickly shook him off, but pushed past him and headed in that direction anyway.
In the clearing, Kirth just stopped and pointed. “You murdered someone!”
Ben made a frustrated noise, walked over to the body, and grabbed it by the area around the face, pulling it up. The neck below was revealed, with a mangled slash cut so deep as to reveal bone among the torn and severed ligament and muscle.
“My weapon didn’t do that,” he said. “Does that look survivable to you?”
Kirth stared. He’d seen enough death in his life to recognize it. Not only was the wound not survivable, it was clearly more than a few minutes old.
“What. The. Fuck…” He breathed out slowly.
“We call it an infection, but it’s not that exactly,” Ben said dully. “Thankfully, it isn’t contagious in the classic way either, so we’re all fine. What it is, is just the first of many horrors I would rather not drop on every living person on this planet, ok? So, let’s call this in, and move on. I found tracks.”
Kirth nodded slowly, eyes not leaving the person… no, the thing, on the ground.
“Right.”
*****
It paused, freezing in place and taking a long moment to examine the surroundings. Something was wrong, but it couldn’t tell what.
The region it had landed in was verdant, lush even, with an intense array of local life of all types. Unfortunately, the majority were not of use to it. Insects were too small, plant life didn’t fit, and even much of the rest were little more than food.
However, there were still plenty remaining that had real value.
Prey and materials to grow its capabilities.
Wait.
That was what was wrong.
It turned its head, looking back the way it had come.
One of it had been killed.
That was not acceptable.
There was only one predator in this area now, there could only be one.
It would tolerate no others.
Gathering its other selves, it turned back the way it had come and began to move.
*****
The squad had moved on from the clearing. They were still tracking along the edge of the swap. It was slow going, however, as the trail wasn’t particularly easy to follow, and they had to be particularly careful as some of the local fauna seemed to be riled up.
“Got another gator along the edge. Watch out in case it’s looking for a meal.”
Griss nodded, eyes moving along to where Driscoll was pointing. He spotted the animal, almost missing it entirely as it barely even looked like there was a log in the water there, let alone a particularly large gator.
Driscoll had an arrow notched, and his arm was tensed slightly. He was ready to draw, but would prefer not to put a shot into the gator for various reasons, including the fact that it wasn’t an active target, he didn’t have time to skin it for boots, and he didn’t have that many arrows to start with.
When the gator seemed content to leave them pass, he relaxed his arm a bit and shifted to looking for other threats.
They were another fifty feet or so along when he next called a halt.
“What is it?” Griss asked from behind him.
Driscoll frowned, but didn’t answer immediately. He looked around ahead of them, eyes seeking something that he couldn’t find.
Finally, he just shook his head. “I don’t know. Something changed, but I can’t put my finger on it. Eyes wide, pass it down.”
Griss just nodded.
He didn’t know what, or even if, the Private had seen anything but he wasn’t one to take chances. He passed the message down the line.
*****
There were intruders in the field.
It couldn’t see them yet, but their presence was clear as day in the patterns of the other beasts around them. Something not part of the natural order was moving, and it was moving in this direction.
They thought they were hunters, then.
It felt a brief surge of pleasure, along with an aggressive beat of its heart.
The challenge was made…
And accepted.
If they wanted to be hunters, then let the hunt begin.
They would see who was the hunter… and who was the prey.
*****
Ben paused briefly, eyes narrowing as he looked around.
“It’s too quiet.”
“What?” one of the Marines frowned, looking around himself.
Others overheard, and the line came to a stop.
“He’s right,” Sandra said, turning around slowly with her rifle butt planted in her shoulder, muzzled aimed at the ground while she looked for a target. “The birds just stopped again.”
“We’re getting close,” Kirth said slowly.
“Or it is,” Ben responded darkly. “Cover your arcs, don’t blink.”
The men looked from him to Kirth, but the Sergeant just nodded, and they jumped to order.
Kirth quietly moved over beside Ben. “What are we expecting here?”
“Depends,” The big man responded with a grunt, “If it hasn’t noticed us, then probably just one of its drones, offspring, whatever you want to call them.”
“And if it has?”
“More. Much more.”
*****
It circled the line, now able to see the source of the disturbance directly.
Local sentients, high cuisine indeed. Delicacies even.
It noted the weapons, but only briefly. None of them would be any serious threat. At the very most they might force a shift to a new host, but nothing more than that.
It had been too long, far, far too long since it last truly enjoyed a hunt.
Unfortunately, this looked not to be one of those times. Pity.
Still, it would be an amusing distraction.
Not all hunts were for food, many were simply for the thrill of the kill. Times when you got both… those were to be savored.
It growled in eager anticipation.
*****
The Marines looked around uneasily. Whatever it was that was silencing the animals, they could feel it as well by that point. Something that told them they should be running.
They were Marines, though, and that feeling wasn’t quite as unfamiliar to them as it was to most. They stiffened their backs and held the perimeter, eyes searching the shadows of the light that filtered through the trees to reach their eyes, but each of them shifted nervously even so.
“Stay strong,” Ben said over the silence. “Subsonic growl, low harmonics, triggers survival instincts. Makes you want to run.”
“We’re Marines. We ain’t running,” Sarge growled right back.
“You’ll run if I say run, or you’ll die screaming,” Ben responded in kind. “But we’re not there yet. Eyes open, Marines.”
He shifted his grip on his sidearm, eyes scanning the shadows of the woods beyond the clearing they were within.
The silence had become oppressive, unnatural, the only motion the slight wave of the branches as the warm wind swept softly through them. Ben’s eyes darted from side to side, looking for a target.
One of the Marines shifted, taking a step forward, catching their attention.
“You see something, Del?” Kirth demanded.
“I don’t know, Sarge,” The private said, “Thought I saw…”
&n
bsp; Ben jumped forward and yanked the young Marine back, clean off his feet, just as a blur of motion slashed through the space the kid had been in. The source of the motion slammed into a tree just a foot or two past them, eliciting an ear shattering crack that sent splinters flying out into the woods as the trunk splintered and the tree fell in two.
Kirth’s 1911 roared as he strode forward, stepping over Ben and the young Marine, firing into the woods as he did.
“Check fire! Check fire!” Ben yelled from the ground. “It’s already gone!”
“What the fuck was that!?” Driscoll demanded, arrow nocked in the compound bow, arm drawn all the way back as he swung to cover the area as best as he could.
“You ok, kid?” Ben asked the Marine he was holding.
The young man nodded, eyes wide, “I… I…”
“Get it together, Jackson,” Kirth snapped.
“I’m good, Sergeant,” Jackson got out.
“Then get to your feet, secure your arc, we’re in hostile territory.”
“Yes, Sergeant!”
Ben pulled the kid up, then let him get back into position as Sergeant Kirth stepped up beside him.
“What the hell was that?”
“Another one.” Ben answered.
“That wasn’t anything like the thing back there,” Kirth growled, nodding over his shoulder to the body.
“Never said they’d be alike,” Ben said. “They’ll depend on the host… I’d say that one, that was a… monkey?”
He looked confused. “I didn’t know there were any monkeys in Florida?”
Kirth snorted. “Been stationed here for a few years. A bunch of rhesus monkeys, and other breeds, were let loose in the wild after hurricanes swept through, wrecking zoos and such. Careful, big chunk of them have herpes.”
Ben looked over at the Sergeant slowly, “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Glad I’m up to date on my vaccinations,” Ben said with a roll of his eyes. “Anyway, different hosts respond differently.”
“What the hell are these things hosts for?” Kirth demanded. “Some kind of virus?”
“Close enough, I guess, but not really,” Ben said, not taking his eyes off the woods. “It spreads, similar to that, but unlike a virus it isn’t composed of organic molecules… or, well, any molecules.”
“That’s not possible,” Sandra cut in, eyes wildly skirting the clearing as she tried to listen while looking around at every moving thing. “Everything is made of molecules.”
“No, some things are made of smaller components.”
“So… atoms?” Kirth frowned.
“Quanta.”
Sandra shook. “That’s impossible.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t,” Ben said. “I don’t know the details, I just know the sort of description they give grunts and grade school kids. Quanta Virii, not the official name, just common use, transmits differently than a normal virus. It isn’t airborne, it’s not in the blood…”
“How the hell does it transmit then?” Kirth demanded. “I’ve taken all the NBC courses, there has to be a transmission vector.”
“We don’t know,” Ben confessed. “But when it does infect a host, it’s game over. Hundred percent fatality rate, followed by… reanimation.”
The Marines within earshot all turned slowly to look at him.
“Say that again.”
Ben looked over to the Marine who spoke, Driscoll he believed.
“Yes, I said reanimated,” Ben sighed.
“We’re fighting zombies… Monkey zombies. Are you shitting me?”
“Shut it, Driscoll.”
“No, Sarge,” Driscoll said, agitated. “You don’t just drop shit like zombie monkeys on us and not get a reaction!”
“They’re not zombies,” Ben said, rolling his eyes. “Meat puppets is a closer description.”
“Is that supposed to be better!?”
“It’s not better or worse, it’s just different,” Ben growled.
“Enough,” Kirth growled. “Driscoll, you cover your sector. You, you and I need to talk.”
Ben sighed, nodding to the Sergeant.
Kirth drew him away from the rest slightly, eyes sweeping to make sure the Marines were covering their sectors as he did.
“I don’t know how you think this is done,” He growled. “But you are going to stop dropping this sci-fi bullshit on my team. Whatever the fuck is going on here is bad enough as it is, I don’t need them freaking out anymore than they already are.”
“They need to freak out, Sergeant,” Ben replied, voice low. “So do you. This is bad. You have no idea how bad.”
“And I don’t care,” Kirth snapped. “You’re not in my chain of command, hell you’re not even an officer by your own statement. You don’t get to make decisions here. If you’ve got useful intel, you bring it to me. Anything else, you keep to yourself.”
Ben glared, frustrated, but finally acquiesced with a curt nod.
“Fine.”
Kirth spared him another short glare before turning away, leaving Ben to his own devices.
“Well… that was… tense?” Sandra said softly.
“The military doesn’t handle breaks in the chain of command very well,” Ben said softly. “I’m not in theirs, they’re not in mine, but we have to work together. One of us has to give.”
“And you chose to be the one?”
Ben shrugged simply. “I’m not going to win a pissing match with a Marine Sergeant in front of his squad. Might as well try and saddle a typhoon and take it for a ride.”
Sandra didn’t respond to that, and Ben figured that the conversation was over. He refocused on the forest, and the swamp beyond. It was still too quiet, but he couldn’t find anything else wrong.
As was his experience, it was one thing to know that the scourge was out there, but it was often something entirely else to actually find the bastards.
Ben checked the state of his sidearm on reflex, eyes scanning the shadows of the thick trees and underbrush.
Where are you?
*****
Chapter 15
SSN-788 Colorado
The Colorado was moving at full speed, a hundred meters below the surface, as they zeroed in on the combat zone.
The chatter from above was filtering in over the VLF systems, and it was clear that the air heads were having a bad day up in the skies. Woods figured that there were going to be a few more planes in the sea before the day was out, something that he might joke about under normal circumstances. But this was one time that old yarn was not funny.
“What do we have?” He asked, leaning over the instrumentation, eyes scanning the displays.
“A lot of noise, that’s what, skipper,” The Sonar officer responded sourly. “And most of it makes no damn sense. Never heard anything like it in my life.”
Woods looked over. “What do you mean, Lieutenant?”
“There’s some sounds that could be weapons fire, maybe? I could maybe hear it that way at least,” Lieutenant Haren said uncertainty. “But it’s not quite right. There’s a sizzling sound, like water boiling off maybe? It pulses, loud, that’s the only thing I can say that’s good about this, whatever it is… it’s loud as… fudge, sir.”
Woods glanced sidelong at the younger man, not bothering to hide his amusement at the shift in language.
“Understood. Can you get a firing solution?”
“Already calculated, skipper. It’s not hiding.”
Woods straightened up, “Alright, send the numbers to Weps.”
“Aye, aye, skipper.”
The Captain walked back to the primary displays for the photonic masts, all of which were currently blank. They were too deep for those to be active, but he didn’t think that was going to last for much longer.
“Firing solution set, Captain.”
“Thank you, Weps,” He confirmed. “Lock and load. Let’s show our friend out there some madcap antics, shall we?”
�
��Oh yes, Sir,” Lieutenant Wynn said from his station. “Tubes one through four, locked and loaded Sir.”
“Range to target?” Woods asked.
“Eighteen, say again One Eight, klicks.”
“Flood the tubes.”
“Tubes flooded, Aye.”
“Open the tubes.”
“Tubes open, Aye.”
“Launch torpedoes, prepare to change course.”
“Torpedoes away.”
*****
The Mark 48 ADCAP Torpedo was capable of slightly better than a hundred kilometers an hour, though the official numbers merely listed it as ‘better than fifty kph’. Launching from the tubes of the Colorado, the four ADCAPs screamed through the waters of the Pacific, rapidly reaching their top speed as they steered in on their target from eighteen kilometers away.
With eighteen kilometers to cross, however, that left ten minutes before the torpedoes would be on target.
That was a long time in open combat.
*****
Argo Lead
Elise Cannel circled the F-35 around in a tight turn, eyes scanning for any sign of the enemy in the waters below.
Bishop’s run had dropped enough ordnance on the section of the pacific to take out a couple divisions of troops, tanks included, but water was not something they’d often had to shoot through.
“All looks clear, Cans,” Bishop said after a moment.
“Negative, Bish,” Elise responded. “The task group is still showing noise in the water. They’re down there.”
“Roger that. What do we do?”
Bishop sounded at a loss, and she couldn’t exactly blame him.
“Admiral has dispatched the Colorado to light a fire under the bastard,” She answered. “So we put a CAP on the region and make sure to put on in him if he shows himself again. Copy that?”
“I copy.”
“Good. The Tophatters will be coming into our airspace shortly, so I want everyone to keep an eye on your fuel. We may have to hand this off to them, but until then, everyone, keep your eyes on the prize.”
*****
Doris Miller
Kinney glowered over the action happening on the deck of the Dory, his thoughts a long way from the Island of the big aircraft carrier as he considered the situation as it was unfolding across the planet.
They were looped into the intel feed for the whole mess, and the only thing that Kinney was sure of was that nothing made any damn sense. So far, they’d dealt with rocks from the sky, that weren’t rocks… submarines that shot down aircraft… the probable loss of San Francisco, and frankly the morning was barely even started.