by SD Tanner
Pressure was growing in every part of his being. His breath was coming in short shallow gasps, but he couldn’t decide if he was simply panicking. Mariana was by his side on her hands and knees, gasping for air. Seeing saliva drooling from her open mouth, her suffering bothered him. By dragging her with him and putting both of their lives at risk, he was no better than Dunk or Dunk Two.
Reaching a trembling hand to her shoulder, he tried to convey he hadn’t meant to hurt her. Instead, he lost control of his shaking body, falling against her. Curling into a fetal position, he was sure his brain was bleeding. Squeezing his eyes tightly closed, he waited to die. The wailing became so high he couldn’t hear it anymore. The crushing pain in his lungs meant he could only take small sips of air. His entire body was jerking to rhythm of each stolen puff.
Suddenly the room became quiet. The hum was gone, as was the high pitch wailing. His chest eased and his breathing deepened. Opening his eyes, he expected to see the chamber, only it was gone. In front of him were a pair of tunic-covered legs. Colored a deep gold, his eyes traced the legs to a set of hips and then a torso. Peering down at him was a long face, deeply lined and with purple-colored eyes.
When the creature spoke, its voice was smooth. “Who are you?”
Unwinding his limbs from around his body, he slowly sat up. Mariana was already on her feet, staring at the man intently. He was the male version of her. Tall and graceful with long limbs and fine fingers. He was on Aria. The wormhole machine had worked.
Before he had a chance to be proud of his achievement, Dunk Two materialized next to the tall alien. “Uh oh, now you’ve done it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN:
Monkey See
(Tank)
While secured between two houses, acting as bait had sounded like a great idea, but running across the park into critters was not. With only a large hangar in the middle of the flat lawn there was nowhere to hide. Critters were turning on their many legs, scrabbling hard and eager to attack them. All five Bombardiers were headed in different directions. Cardiff was at the far right. Samson was scooting ahead of Ark Three and Tiana, drawing the critters away from the damaged door to the hangar. Bombardier Four-Two and Bombardier Six-Three were already behind the hangar with an army of critters hard on their heels. He’d taken the far left position, calling critters to follow him into the surrounding forest.
Their combined efforts had left the entrance to the hangar free of critters, so he supposed it was working. If Ark Three had found a cure, and Dunk Three had fixed the wormhole then it would be worth it. That was too many “ifs” for his liking, but there weren’t many other options on the table. In fact, he suspected either it worked or he was dead. Ark Three’s short speech had hit home. As he crashed into the bushes, bouncing against thick tree trunks, he wondered if he’d been depressed for a very long time.
Critters were following him, swiping at his back and missing. “Sitrep.” The answers he received were short and everyone was on the run. “Use the forest for cover.”
The problem with that plan was the critters were everywhere. Even as he crashed through the foliage, more critters were in front of him. He was in a pool of critters. They were snapping and screeching to his left and right, ahead and behind him. Down to his Needle handgun and with limited ammunition, it wouldn’t be long before he’d resort to hand-to-hand combat and that wouldn’t end well.
Banging his armored shoulder into another thick trunk, he was ducking and weaving, hoping to find a gap in the closing circle of critters. Another claw swiped at his back, catching his side so that he slammed against another large trunk. Tumbling with the force, he found himself staring up at the thick tree. It was a stunning Sequoia, standing tall and proud. It had been around before the critters and it would still be standing after they’d killed the last man on Earth.
It was at least two hundred feet tall and twenty feet wide. A spattering of sturdy branches at the top reached out from the trunk. He needed to reduce the number of critters, only he didn’t have enough ammunition, but he could funnel them. Allowing himself a small grin, he rose to his feet, running towards the next tree. It was another beauty, thick and tall. Launching from his right leg, he flew twenty feet through the air, reaching for the trunk as he did. Grasping part of the wide tree, he climbed it much like a monkey would.
Digging his fingers into the bark, he shouted, “Climb the trees!”
Cardiff had been swearing into her headset only now she sounded appalled. “Seriously? This is your next good plan?”
“He’s right. We can funnel them,” Bombardier Four-Two replied.
A critter was following him as he clambered up the tree. At least while it was wrapping many long legs around the tree there were fewer swiping at him. He might have limited ammunition, but a critter had to climb the tree head first, meaning he could shoot it in the face.
“Aim for the head. Blind ‘em.”
When he felt a claw stab at his boot, he clung to the trunk with one hand, allowing himself to lean back. With his gun arm able to aim, he fired directly into the head staring up at him. Shooting it in the face at close range stunned it. Legs ending in claws loosened their grip around the trunk, making it fall backwards. Several legs still hung onto the tree so now it was hanging upside down. Another critter was following, and with no regard for its fellow soldier, it simply climbed onto its body. Its weight forced the last of the critter’s claws from the tree. It began falling, its legs scrambling in the air. Several of its legs managed to catch the critter using it as a ladder and now they were both falling.
“Stupid fuckers.”
Turning to look up the trunk, he continued his ascent. Hearing them screech loudly when they slammed back to the ground, several more were already clambering up the tree. During their first attack on Earth, the critters had been hopeless at teamwork. Once again, they were thwarting one another, tangling their long legs and falling back down the tree. He dug his thick boots into the trunk, reaching for the next gnarly knot with his hand. As a human, he wouldn’t have had the strength, not even in Navigator gear. As a Bombardier, he was hauling himself higher until he reached the first of the branches. Deciding that was high enough, he settled his rear where the branch joined the trunk, aiming his gun down at the critters.
This would be his last stand. He had precisely thirty-three rounds left. The critters below him were still scrambling up the trunk. With the tree being so thick and round, they were accidentally tripping one another so that they fell back down again. If his life hadn’t been at stake, their antics would have been comical. Thinking of his life, he was painfully aware he’d been drifting since Ark, Lexie, Leon and Hood had died. They had been his squad, the ones he would have given his life to save. Losing them had taken away his purpose and he hadn’t allowed anyone to replace them.
A critter was only ten feet away, its mouth open and its front legs raised. One more step and the lethally sharp claws would knock him from his perch. Firing directly at its head, he twisted to shoot another climbing the other side of the tree.
“Sitrep.”
“I’m sitting in a tree shooting oversized spiders,” Cardiff replied, sounding irritable. “That was the plan, right?”
“All you ever do is bitch,” Samson said steadily.
“We always liked it when you guys went into stasis,” Bombardier Four-Two added.
“Sometimes we left you in there even when we didn’t need to,” Bombardier Six-Three said sounding smug.
Cardiff delivered a long list of unrepeatable and very creative bad language, but if they were still griping at one another then they were doing just fine. His Bombardier squad had been with him for over a hundred years and they were good, just as good as his last squad, only he’d never let himself become attached. His very first wife had died and then so had most of the world. After they’d defeated the critters, he’d lost his new squad too. Although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, losing so many people so fast had left a scar, one that
refused to heal.
More critters clambered up the tree, their legs waving unsteadily as they dug their claws into the bark. Using their back legs to push and their front to pull, they were learning to climb faster. He had thirty-one rounds left. While he waited for them to climb near enough for a guaranteed head shot his mind drifted again.
Tiana had told Ark Three that he was his father, but he wasn’t. Ark Three had been manufactured in a laboratory from a blended set of genes, including those of his grandfather. Ark Three didn’t have a father or did he? He was there when they hatched him, holding his tiny body when he took his first breath. Whenever he’d tumbled to the floor as a toddler, he was the one who had picked him up, encouraging him to try again. Ark Three’s first word had been Tank.
The shuddering bang of a claw burying deep in the bark caught his attention. After firing another round, sending two critters to the ground, he reloaded, distracted again by his memories.
Was he so stupid he didn’t know how he felt? During one fight, Casey had accused him of behaving like a tree, so it was ironic he was about to die in one. Critters were scrabbling through the forest, attracted by the sound of gunfire. Circling the tree, they were wrapping their long legs around the base, pushing themselves from the ground.
“Sitrep.”
Cardiff’s voice no longer sounded irritable. Her tone was bland as if she knew this was the end. “Eighteen rounds and a shedload of critters.”
“Maybe we should climb higher,” Samson suggested.
“We wouldn’t survive the fall,” Bombardier Four-Two said, sounding almost cheerful.
“Probably best if you land on your head then,” Bombardier Six-Three replied.
He didn’t have anything useful to add so he continued firing at the critters closest to his position. As he reloaded for a third and last time, he looked up the tree. It narrowed near the top and he supposed he could go higher, but what would be the point? Very shortly, the tree would be smothered in critters. Climbing higher would only buy him another ten minutes at best.
Firing into the rubbery black face of another critter, he said, “Climb higher.”
“What for?” Cardiff asked, sounding unhappy.
“Ten more minutes of life is ten more minutes.”
“Why bother?”
“JFDI,” Samson ordered.
What would ten more minutes of life buy him? Another six hundred seconds to realize he’d wasted the last two hundred years. Holstering his now empty gun, he grabbed at a knot on the tree, pulling himself towards the next branch. In forgetting to enjoy his life, he’d made a terrible mistake. Ark Three was his son and, by default, so was Dunk Three. He’d raised them both without knowing that’s what he’d been doing. This growing awareness made him want to kick himself, but that would have made him fall a hundred and fifty feet to the ground.
Critters were already on the branch he’d been sitting on, and passing by the one above it he pushed onward. Climbing faster still, a critter reached one long leg along the trunk. Luckily, another critter on the other side reached up at the same time so that their claws tangled. Falling backwards, they crashed into the ones behind them. Cascading like falling dominos, they tumbled to the ground. Finding another gnarly lump, he pulled himself higher up the tree.
“Sitrep.”
“Not good,” Cardiff replied, only now she sounded resigned to her fate.
“Punch them. Use your gun like a club!” Samson said.
“I’m taking as many with me as I can,” Bombardier Four-Two added.
“Too right,” Bombardier Six-Three replied.
Reaching another branch on the tree, the next one didn’t look strong enough to hold his weight. This was the end of the line. He was out of ammunition. His blade wouldn’t even make a dent on a critter. Samson was right. All he had left was his fists and a club. A critter was only six feet from his position, its claws digging deeply into the bark. Behind it were at least fifty more. The trunk had become a blur of jerking movement. If he fell from this height then he’d likely die, and even if he didn’t, the critters circling the tree would finish the job.
He’d always expected and even wanted to die in combat, but not like this. In his mind, the enemy was always an equal, not some remotely controlled tool. It wasn’t that he feared dying, more that he wished he’d told the people that mattered how he felt about them. Casey had died never hearing three simple words from him. He did love her, but the words always stuck in his throat. Maybe it was fear of being hurt, of losing someone again, but not saying the words didn’t prevent him from grieving when they died. It wasn’t as if he could hide from how he felt, even if he never told anyone. Most of the time his steely way of dealing with life was right, but every so often, it cost him his peace of mind.
Bracing himself against the trunk and the branch so that both hands were free, he prepared for his final battle. Clearing his throat, he said, “You know I’m not a wordy person.”
“Really? We never noticed,” Cardiff replied.
“You’ve been a great squad. Thanks for the ride.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT:
Fool’s Errand
(Ark Three)
“What was that?”
Something inside of the hangar had flashed much like a small explosion only nothing appeared to be damaged. Tiana was running by his side, sprinting across the chewed up lawn in the park. Tank and the other Bombardiers were hollering at the critters, teasing them to give chase.
Relief flooded his system, leaving him euphoric. “It’s operational.”
It was going to work. He wasn’t a failure; he was his grandfather’s descendant after all. Even as that thought crossed his mind, he wondered if his grandfather had won more through blind luck than design. Maybe they weren’t super strategists. Maybe they were just luckier than most.
Slamming through the torn door of the hangar, he was confronted by an enormous black colored chamber. It sat hulking like an oversized critter, with a curved surface and closed door. A large glass panel showed the interior of the chamber was empty.
“Who transported and to where?”
Tiana was already running towards the control panel on the right side of the chamber. Rapidly tapping the screen, she leaned in studying it.
“Two bodies. One human and the other not.”
“Who was the other person?”
“I do not know. Their cellular pattern is not familiar to me, but…” Tiana hesitated, but he didn’t have time for her to beat around the bush.
“Who transported?” He asked sharply.
“Dunk Three.”
“Where did he go?”
“The last coordinates are to Aria.”
Her answer stopped him in his tracks. Around him, critters were running towards the hangar, but he briefly lost sight of the battle. His mind had zeroed in on his brother. Of all the things he could be accused of, being a coward wasn’t one of them. Had Dunk Three run away from the battle, seeking sanctuary on Aria?
“He ran?” He asked in disbelief. “He abandoned us?”
Tiana didn’t reply, only shook her head. Finally, the anger Tank had always told him he should have towards the Dunks burned brightly in his chest. Dunk Three had said he was bad blood and so he was.
“I’m going to kill him.”
Turning back to the console, Tiana said, “There is also a repeating message from a distant galaxy. Someone from here has replied.”
A voice filled the hangar. “Lace to central, do you read me. We need emergency extract. Standing by.”
“Is he still there?”
“I’m trying to ping him.”
“Don’t bother, just bring back whatever’s at his coordinates.”
Listening to the message from deep space, he lost focus on the fight happening around him. When the undamaged part of the doors exploded inwards, he was caught by surprise. Buckling under the force of over ten critters the metal tore apart. Legs and heads appeared in the ripped door as they rammed t
heir way inside. Whirling to face them, he began firing, not even aware of where he was aiming. Tiana was frantically tapping at the screen.
“Hurry!”
“He has changed the program. I do not…”
Her voice was lost under the screeching penetrating his helmet. Critters were barging their way inside through deep rends in the hundred-foot wide door. Trampling it in their wake, more critters were pushing those forward until they were only fifty yards from where he was standing. Tiana was behind him, but he lost sight of what she was doing. Using the grenade launcher on his Bomhammer, he fired into the tangled mass of bodies and legs with claws for feet. They were clambering over one another, scrabbling against the concrete floor. The explosion blasted the first row of them to pieces, sending chunks of rubbery black skittering across the floor. It didn’t help. The ones behind them clambered over the remains of their fellow fighters and were only ten yards from his position.
Sensing more than seeing Tiana behind him, he shouted, “Take cover.”
Ducking until she fit under the console table, he knew it wouldn’t save her. The first of the claws reached him, violently sweeping across his armor. Catching the leg in one hand, he pulled and swung as he did. Losing traction on the concrete floor, it skidded across the floor, thudding against the metal wall of the wormhole.
Another critter leapt into the space, raising its claws to strike. Dropping his Bomhammer and drawing his Needle, he ran forward, ramming his shoulder into its head while pushing the barrel of his gun into the body. The torso bucked with the bullet, but it wasn’t down. Bullets were no match for a critter unless you had a lot of them and he didn’t. Down to the last round in the magazine, he fired again. It was enough to heave the critter backwards.
They were cornered, trapped between the outside wall and the metal of the wormhole machine. His only option was to punch through the wall, dragging Tiana with him. Turning towards the wall, he intended to do just that when a long leg with sharpened claws came through it. That leg was followed by several more until the round head and black eyes of a critter pushed its way inside. Behind the wall were another ten or more critters. Almost as if they knew how important the wormhole machine was, the entire hangar was surrounded.