Orbs

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  Just when she thought she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, the light vanished and an explosion from the rear of the ship ripped through the night. Sophie gripped the outside of her helmet, her ears pounding with pain. She twisted just in time to watch the craft disappear over a ridgeline.

  “Fuck, that was close. I thought we were toast! Guess that thing works after all,” Overton said with a nervous chuckle. His hands loosened their grip on the steering wheel, and he scanned the skyline several times before twisting the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, and he slowly pressed down on the gas.

  “Fifteen minutes and we’ll be at the edge of I-25, where the Wastelands begin. The remains of Denver aren’t far after that,” he said. “Better check our nutrition before we get into the dead zone.”

  Sophie unfastened her helmet. She grabbed a water bottle from her duffel bag and forced down several gulps. Feeling around in the bag, she retrieved two energy bars and tore them open. She chewed and listened to the reassuring groan of the diesel engine, and started to relax.

  She closed her eyes, sinking into the seat. An image of Jamie and Owen sitting next to Holly at the mess hall table crept into her thoughts. If the children could survive the Organics without weapons, food, or a super-magnet, then surely she stood a chance.

  Crumpling the wrapper into a ball, she threw it back into the bag and looked at the RVM one more time. The hunk of metal glistened in the dim light. It was hard to imagine that the box not only housed the smartest artificial intelligence on the planet, but also harnessed an electromagnetic wave that could confuse alien invaders. Science never ceased to amaze her; even when all seemed lost, it had a way of giving her hope.

  * * *

  The silhouette of Denver’s destroyed skyline appeared in the distance, the once great skyscrapers nothing more than artifacts from a dead civilization, like the Great Wall of China or the pyramids in Egypt.

  Sophie thought of the young pilot who had flown her to the Biosphere just weeks before. He had mentioned his girlfriend’s family was from Denver. She hoped he had somehow managed to escape from the Organics, but she didn’t really believe it. With a lurch, Sophie realized that she’d never bothered to learn the pilot’s name.

  She pushed the concern from her mind, squeezing her eyebrows together and blinking. The optics built into her display enhanced, allowing her to scan the interstate for any signs of life. Deep down she knew there wouldn’t be any. The city had been evacuated years before, when the edge of the CME had torched the city and turned it into a radioactive nightlight.

  The emptiness was eerie, but oddly soothing at the same time. Strategically, the location worked out in their favor. Without human life to prey upon, the Organics would have no reason to be anywhere near the city. And with the surface water already gone, Sophie figured they wouldn’t run into any further resistance until they got to the White Sands Missile Range.

  Ruined buildings and the abandoned cars of people who had tried to escape the doomed city filled her display. The scene reminded her of an old post-apocalyptic movie poster she’d had hanging in her college dorm room—a scene she never thought she’d see with her own eyes.

  In the distance the triangular rooftops of the airport emerged. There were only a few of the pyramids left fully intact, but as they approached it was clear the architects had designed the roof to look like the Rocky Mountains.

  Overton slowed the vehicle and maneuvered around the dozens of metal hangars lining the tarmac. “How are we going to find the entrance to this underground bunker?”

  “I’m trying to remember what my contact at NTC told me, but it’s . . . hazy.”

  Overton eased the vehicle to a stop and tilted his head so he could look directly at her. “You’re fucking telling me you don’t have the slightest idea where we’re going? You think you coulda mentioned this, I dunno, before we left the Biosphere?”

  “You’re starting to sound like Timothy. Don’t worry; it’ll come back to me. Just drive,” she said.

  She watched row after row of hangars pass as they continued down the tarmac at a crawl. All she could recall was the NTC staffer telling her the main entrance to the bunker was under a hangar. Unfortunately, there were a lot of them to choose from.

  Look for the wings.

  The staffer’s words popped into her mind. “Look for the old air force symbol,” she told Overton. “The one from before the government gave control of its air defenses to NTC.”

  “Okay . . .” Overton punched the gas and watched the metal buildings zip by. He knew the hangar would not be with the civilian buildings. The military always kept its facilities separate. He turned the steering wheel hard to the right and raced down the tarmac toward a pair of buildings in the distance.

  “Where are you going? You’re heading away from the airport!”

  They raced past a bullet-riddled white sign with the faded image of wings etched into the middle. She watched the sign disappear in the side mirror. “How did you know?”

  “Because I’m a soldier, and I know how other soldiers think,” he said with a grin.

  The doors to the first hangar were cracked open, revealing the guts of a facility that had been used to house weapons at some point. Overton recognized the outlines of a forklift and several other pieces of machinery used to cart large missiles before they were loaded onto aircraft. He dipped the barrel of his rifle into the warehouse before slipping through the opening. Ancient crates and metal boxes littered the dusty concrete floor. Several dents from the colossal dust storms peppered the walls of the hangar.

  This was not the type of place he imagined the military would have housed an underground bunker, but then again, the frail walls could have been built to deceive anyone looking for such a facility.

  He finished his recon and marched back to the truck, tapping Sophie on the shoulder and jerking his head toward the hangar. She nodded and followed him. The doors to the second hangar were sealed shut, and the handle to a side entrance was locked. He cursed under his breath and threw the strap of his rifle around his back. Taking one knee, he removed his combat knife and unscrewed the bottom of the handle. Inside were several lock-picking tools. His squad had teased him on more than one occasion for carrying them, but this wasn’t the first time they had come in handy.

  With a click, the door unlocked. He swung it open cautiously, crouch-walking behind the safety of the thick metal. Inside were more crates and boxes. The hull of a rusted tractor sat in the corner of the room, half-draped in a tarp. At first glance there was no evidence of an entrance to the bunker. Frustrated, he broke radio silence. “Advance.”

  Sophie emerged with her pistol drawn. Her helmet darted back and forth as she scanned the room.

  “I don’t see shit to indicate a bunker,” he whispered.

  “Alexia, are you able to scan the facility?” Sophie asked.

  “Already completed, Dr. Winston. Check the east corner of the room. A preliminary scan indicates there is something covering the entrance.”

  “Would have been nice to know before I stuck my neck in here,” Overton growled.

  Sophie smiled and patted Overton on his armored shoulder. She paced toward the tractor, and with his help they pushed it forward. Underneath was a circular door.

  He could hardly believe it. Without hesitation, he squatted and wiped off the surface, revealing the etched letters NSA.

  “National Security Agency,” he said, shaking his head.

  “It was basically the intelligence branch of NTC before it became, well, NTC,” Sophie said, joining him on the floor.

  “Go back to the truck and get the device. I’ll try to get this thing open,” he said, gripping the handle and heaving with his back. He pulled harder and felt the cut on his shoulder tighten.

  “Fuck. On second thought, help me with this first,” he said. “On three. One. Two. Three!”


  They twisted the circular handle, and the ancient door clicked open, revealing a thin sliver of red light.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said, peeking into the tunnel. “The lights are still on after all these years.”

  Sophie shrugged. “You need to start listening to me more often.”

  “I will take that under consideration, Dr. Winston. In the meantime, how about you retrieve the RVM?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied with a salute that was only half ironic.

  She jogged back to the truck, satisfied with their find. They were one step closer to their objective—one step closer to seeing if Dr. Hoffman had indeed wanted them to proceed to the ship.

  The glow of the stars filled her display as she slipped back outside, but another glow also illuminated the night. Her heart stopped. A hundred yards away were a dozen Spiders surrounding the Humvee. Their heads tilted simultaneously and a hundred eyes studied her.

  “Spiders!” she screamed into her com, backing straight into the metal wall. Fumbling for her pistol, she tripped and fell onto the concrete. The pistol went flying and landed several feet away.

  Scratch. Scrape. Scratch. Scrape.

  The Spiders skittered across the concrete tarmac. She hesitated, calculating the odds of reaching the pistol before they reached her, and then scrambled back into the hangar on all fours. She slammed the door shut and locked it.

  Overton darted over to her and leveled his rifle at the wall. A claw punched through the metal like a knife cutting a piece of bread. Dozens more followed, tearing foot-long gaps in the door.

  “We have to get to the train! This isn’t going to hold them for long,” Overton shouted.

  Sophie tried to follow behind him, watching in horror as the Spiders tore through the wall. “But we need the RVM. We need Alexia.”

  He grunted, firing off a volley of plasma rounds through one of the openings. A shriek followed as the rounds tore into one of the Spider’s shields.

  Overton looked down at the single electromagnetic concussion grenade he had taken from Bouma. He didn’t want to use it yet, not this early in the mission, but he didn’t have a choice. If he waited, they might be dead before he had another opportunity.

  “Get to the train. I’ll get the device,” he yelled, firing off another dozen rounds.

  Sophie hesitated.

  “I said go!”

  She nodded and disappeared into the glow of red light spilling out of the tunnel’s entrance. Overton watched her go and then returned his attention to the wall. The scraping sound of the claws echoed in his helmet. The noise prompted a steady flow of adrenaline to pump into his veins. It was all he needed for his training to kick back in.

  Without further thought, he unclipped the grenade, removed the pin, and dropped it through one of the openings in the metal. It dropped with a hollow click and rolled a few feet before detonating. He shut off his HUD with a blink and closed his eyes to prepare for the blast. The pulse wave ripped across the tarmac, penetrating the creature’s defenses. Through the opening, Overton watched the blue glow of their shields pulsate and fail.

  One swift kick from his boot sent the door flying off its hinges. It slid across the tarmac, knocking three of the Spiders down. He pulled his .45 from his holster and smiled.

  “Time to die, you little bastards!”

  He strode out of the hangar with his pistol in one hand and his rifle in the other. The first shots sent two of the Spiders spinning into the night. Another three advanced, and Overton squeezed the triggers again. Two heads and a torso exploded, showering him in blue goo.

  High-pitched screams ripped through the night, but he pushed forward unfazed. He fired his rifle at another two monsters still circling the Humvee and turned to finish off three more advancing toward him.

  The click of a dry magazine sounded, somehow louder to Overton’s ears than the horrifying screams. He tossed the rifle aside and took one knee, aiming the pistol at the remaining two Spiders. Instead of advancing, they circled him, their claws scraping the ground.

  Scratch. Scrape. Scratch. Scrape.

  He closed an eye and aimed, but resisted the urge. Why weren’t they attacking? Was there something they knew that he didn’t? Something he couldn’t see? It was almost like the fuckers were taunting him.

  “Fuck it,” he said and squeezed the trigger. The two bullets whizzed out of the chamber, down the barrel, and into the heads of both Spiders.

  Pop.

  They exploded like water balloons, their blue blood fountaining into the air. Overton surveyed the gruesome scene. Several of the creatures’ limbs twitched on the ground, their claws still scraping the ground harmlessly.

  Scratch. Scrape. Scratch. Scrape.

  He fired off the remaining rounds in his pistol just to silence them, then glanced over his shoulder at the hangar to gauge the distance he’d have to haul the damned RVM. The spiked, humanoid head of a Sentinel stared back at him, its reptilian eyes blinking rapidly.

  “You have to be shitting me!”

  He scrambled to reload his weapon as the monster slithered forward with its massive tail dragging across the concrete. The thing grabbed him before he had time to retrieve a single bullet. It wrapped one arm around Overton and heaved him into the air, bringing him within inches of its face.

  “You are one ugly bastard,” he muttered, preparing for the same fate as Finley. He refused to close his eyes. Instead he squinted, studying the alien.

  It looked back at him quizzically, tilting its head to one side like it was trying to comprehend something beyond its intelligence. Overton was reminded of a dog he’d had when he was a kid.

  That’s when it hit him. The Spiders, the Worms, and the Sentinels—they weren’t intelligent creatures. There was no way these things had traveled trillions of miles to pillage Earth of its natural resources.

  Luke had been right. These creatures were nothing more than foot soldiers in an army controlled by a life-form he hadn’t yet met. Overton let out a muffled laugh; he was about to be liquefied by the alien equivalent of a Rottweiler. He faced his fate like a Marine—with his eyes open.

  Crack, crack.

  The creature’s head exploded into pieces, speckling his visor with chunks of blue skin and meat. Overton’s mind hardly had time to register the sound of gunfire. He hit the ground with a thud, still wrapped in the creature’s limp arm.

  Crawling out from under the heavy limb, he pulled himself up and wiped the goo off his visor. Standing twenty feet away was Sophie, still gripping the pulse pistol tightly in her shaking hands. Overton considered yelling at her for taking the risky shot, but changed his mind. The doc didn’t have much sense when it came to keeping her ass safe, but she had moxie. Instead he scanned the area for more contacts. His HUD revealed no heat signatures.

  He hunched over to pick up his rifle and strolled over to her at a leisurely pace. “Guess the device doesn’t work after all,” he said.

  “Not necessarily. They didn’t attack until they saw us. I believe they also pick up on movement. When you stopped the Humvee, the drone disappeared. The device appears to distract and confuse them, but it only works if we aren’t moving,” she said, her hands shaking. “You know, I did just save your life. Some sort of thank-you wouldn’t be out of order.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” he said sincerely, placing his hand over hers and slowly forcing her to lower the pistol.

  “N-no problem,” she stuttered.

  “Where did you learn to shoot?” he asked.

  “My dad taught me when I was a kid,” she said. “He, uh, liked to take me to the . . . gun range.”

  Overton ignored the obvious lie. “I thought I ordered you into the tunnel.”

  “You did, but when I got there I realized I’d lost my gun. There was no way in hell I was going down there without a weapon.”

  Overt
on cracked a grin and chuckled. “You continue to impress me, Doc.”

  “Call me Sophie.”

  With a nod Overton said, “All right, Sophie. Now let’s get the RVM and Alexia. We have a train to catch.”

  CHAPTER 27

  JAMIE stood on the metal bench next to Holly, attempting to braid the psychologist’s blond hair. “Why did the monsters come?” Jamie asked, so softly that Holly almost didn’t hear her.

  Owen, leaning against Holly’s side, answered, “My dad said that there’s no such thing as monsters.”

  “Your dad was right, Owen. There is no such thing as monsters. The things outside are just animals, but from another planet.”

  “Animals? Like cows?” Jamie asked, her eyes wide and full of curiosity.

  “Sort of like cows,” Holly agreed.

  “Cows that want to eat us?” Owen said.

  Holly bit her lip and scooted forward, searching for some way to salvage the explanation. “Well, we eat cows, and cows eat grass . . .”

  “I’m hungry,” Jamie said abruptly, changing the subject as only a child could. She jumped off the metal bench and clutched her stomach.

  “What would you like to eat?” Holly asked.

  “Ice cream,” Owen said.

  “And cookies!” Jamie added.

  Holly laughed. “Let’s see what we have in the kitchen, shall we?”

  Both children hurried through the mess hall toward the kitchen. Jamie hummed a song along the way, and Owen dragged his filthy blanket on the floor. Holly marveled at their resilience. Just days ago they had both lost their whole worlds. Yet after hours of counseling, it turned out all Holly had to do was mention the word “cookie” to get them to smile.

  Pots and pans clattered as Timothy poked through the cabinets in the kitchen. Holly paused to study him. His behavior was becoming increasingly erratic. It was really too bad she couldn’t simply give him a cookie to calm him down, too, but she could always slip a Xanax in his water. It was a compelling thought.