Darkness Trilogy (Book 1): Winds of Darkness

by Alexander, Lee

  Finally, I could just see the edge of a small crowd. I squinted to get a better look, and recognized a few people in the crowd. It was our office group.

  Between our vehicle and the crowd I could recognize Castillo’s bald brown head as he walked next to Velasquez. They were out of sight a moment later as they turned to skirt the crowd.

  I led Linda by the hand, heading for the group. A glance behind showed Larry and Jessie following along. I was exhausted from the day’s events, but this was something else. It gave me a strange sort of energy.

  We joined the crowd at the rear. All I heard was a handful of words, but they brought relief to me. A weight lifted as the officer’s words rumbled out. He had been talking for at least a little while.

  “You’re all safe now, I just want to reiterate that. The doors are rated to withstand a nuclear blast. We are so happy to have found survivors on our last trip into the world. Let me be the first to tell you: Welcome to your new home!”

  He paused, probably for dramatic effect. The dog barked into the silence. A few chuckles sounded, including the General. He smiled, then continued.

  “Welcome to Project Osiris.”

  Epilogue

  June 28, 2033

  Greater Seattle Area, Washington, USA

  Location Undisclosed, Base 13, Project Osiris

  -61°F

  0200 Hours

  General Turner took his cover off and tossed it carelessly to the desk. It skittered for a moment before bumping into the folder that sat squared up in the middle of the otherwise empty desk. The two men standing on the other side of the desk said nothing, simply standing at attention.

  “This is it?” He continued to pace. Neither man reacted. It was not a question for them.

  “First a database error causing us to lose all of our satellite offices. Then two weeks of fighting and losing. We finally find our main satellite office, and this is what comes back.”

  The General continued to pace in his office. He clenched his hands repeatedly. Castillo could hear the tendons creaking in the General’s hands. He remained at ready.

  “Oh, at ease, gentlemen. Tell me, what went wrong?”

  Castillo relaxed from attention, but remained standing. He looked at Velasquez for a moment, then turned and began to speak.

  “The computers in the office didn’t survive the transition. From what little we gathered, everything we have is likely what was uploaded the night before the event.”

  “And the bunker? Where are my scientists?”

  “There was a, uh... complication.”

  “What complication?” snarled the General.

  “The Xenos threw everything at us. Not only did we face multiple of the larger Xenos, there was one that dwarfed the combat class.”

  “Bigger than the combat class? How big?” The General’s interest was clearly piqued.

  “Sir, by my estimates, twice the size of a combat class Xeno. It took several hundred rounds of fifty cal to bring it down. It killed Thompson sir.”

  “Twice...” breathed General Turner. Castillo couldn’t tell if it was awe, or fear that he heard.

  “Thompson died to the... let’s call it a Super class for now. So, he died to the Super?”

  Castillo hesitantly nodded.

  “Yes, sir... however, that wasn’t the only fatal wound. It’s true, the Super did have him in its hand, squeezing the life out of him—”

  “Just the one hand?” asked the General.

  “Yes sir. Just the one.”

  “Fascinating. Please, continue.”

  “Well, sir, a stray round hit the hand that held Thompson. That’s why the uh...” Castillo looked down at the folders on the desk. The other two stared for a moment as well.

  “The papers that were recovered were damaged during that firefight.”

  General Turner nodded, then thought for a moment.

  “That still doesn’t explain where my scientists are.”

  “You see sir, they didn’t just throw the Super at us. Well, the Super might have been living in the tower all along. But either way, they sent fighter ships after us. The fireball ones. One was shot down—”

  “So the new rounds do work?”

  “It appears so,” replied Castillo. He was careful to hide any hint of irritation at the constant interruptions.

  “Continue,” ordered Turner.

  “The craft appeared to impact the building, causing some instability. It apparently wasn’t just structural instability. The craft came into contact with a certain set of lines—”

  “The MF collector lines?”

  “Yes sir. That either caused a short or an overload. I’m not certain. Above my paygrade sir. It caused an explosion in the bunker. The reactor, you see. In the end, we could only fit one of the civilians into the bunker.”

  “You let a CIVILIAN into the bunker?!”

  “Yes sir, one of the two that accompanied us. DeWisr. Velasquez was the only other member that might have been able to fit, but we couldn’t have him disrobe, sir.”

  “No, no we couldn’t. Very well. Who is this DeWisr and what did he find?”

  “Dante DeWisr. He’s a vet, with training. According to his dossier, he worked on Project HORUS. He was there, the day the discovery was made. I don’t know if he’s connected the two yet.”

  “Go on,” said Turner as he made a hand waving motion. He stood over the desk and began to sort through the papers as he listened.

  “He went in and explored for twenty minutes. He came back with those papers, said everybody was dead.”

  “Wait, why again was he the only one who could fit?”

  “The explosion caused the inner doors to fail. The top was peeled open. He was the only one aside from Velasquez that could fit through the blast opening.”

  “Okay. Did he find anything else?”

  “No sir, that’s it.”

  “Thank you, Staff Sergeant. You as well, Sergeant Velasquez. Dismissed. I have calls to make. I want to keep an eye on this DeWisr, and I have just the soldier in mind.”

  Found Files

  Dossier: DeWisr, Dante. No middle initial.

  5’10”, 220 pounds

  [Redacted]

  DeWisr was born to Harry and Regina DeWisr in 2000. Harry DeWisr retired two years later due to health effects from 9/11. Harry was a first responder to the Twin Towers attack. HD saved President [Redacted] from the rubble. He served with distinction. HD’s father served as well, and was in active in several campaigns, including [Redacted]. HD’s grandfather was present on Enola Gay during bombing run on August 6, 1945. The family has often been in the middle of pivotal moments of world history, without recognition.

  Never married, no children. Has a cat and a dog. Appears to dote on them.

  DeWisr served with distinction, if not high marks. He was better than average in anything he put his hand to but never excelled. He never showed initiative. An adequate Staff Sergeant. Terminal at E5. Entered intelligence from boot camp, however he did pursue additional firearms training. Did multiple tours in [Redacted] before permanent assignment to [Redacted] in [Redacted] Program.

  After the military, DeWisr joined fellow Air Force veteran Reven, Jessamyn. Highly accomplished when properly motivated. Shows signs of growing close with fellow employee, Williams, Linda. On ‘Must Watch’ list. Potential candidate for [Redacted] Program.

  Dossier: Reven, Jessamyn A.

  5’5” 115 pounds

  [Redacted]

  Reven’s family is the subject of debate. She is the daughter of [Redacted]. At age 18 she signed up for USAF. Unremarkable before her military career. Married at 21, divorced at 24. Appears amicable. Different career paths.

  Reven is top of her class in all respects. Served with USAF for 8 years, alongside DeWisr. The two were considered inseparable. Reven is known to brow-beat any command into allowing her to serve alongside DeWisr. Graduated Basic Instruction at top of her class. Took advanced intelligence to stay with DeWisr. Does n
ot appear to be romantically involved.

  After incident on [Redacted] in workspace for [Redacted] Program, Reven resigned from the military. She was contacted by [Redacted] to begin Envisionment Intelligence, LLC. She was chosen as head for the satellite office. Was given 80 dossiers, told to pick 40. Refused to pick unless DeWisr was guaranteed a slot after he left military. Due to her exceptional ability to run the office, the agreement was made.

  Reven has successfully run the office for three years. She has made it the highest grossing satellite office of [Redacted] Program. Is reluctant about the necessary changes to the office. Refuses to let anybody go. Stubborn, willful, highly intelligent. Potential candidate for [Redacted] Program. Codeword [Redacted] authorized.

  Dossier: Mason, Larry, no middle initial.

  6’9” 270 pounds

  Caucasian Male, No identifying features, Bald

  Mason was raised by [Redacted] on military bases all over the world. He served for 12 years in US Army. Field Medic trained. Sierra Foxtrot division [Redacted]. Went on [Redacted] missions. Highly skilled, extremely successful. Strong morals. Unwavering determination. Higher than average strength, even for his size. Extreme stamina, high intelligence. Often described as ‘stoic’. Extremely desirable subject for [Redacted] Program.

  Dossier: [Redacted], Tracy

  [Corrupted text]

  [Further Dossier files appear completely corrupted.]

  Memo:

  1 January, 2033

  Attn: Jessie Reven

  Re: Upcoming upgrades

  Headquarters understands the impact to your daily work that the proposed upgrades will cause. It is not of concern. The previously discussed upgrades must be completed as soon as possible. An employee will need access during the evening of 7 Jan. Your office is to be closed down correctly.

  On Monday, 10 Jan, one of your employees will discover a problem. Damage will ensue. You are not to worry about the damage. Instead, calmly evacuate the office per protocol. The new server room will take approximately two months.

  Re: your office. The changes are necessary. The lease for the office across from yours has been revoked. The extra room for the additional space necessary will be taken from the adjacent office space.

  Further updates will follow. Current deadline for all projects is a window of June-July 2033. Exact date unknown. Refinement underway.

  Continue the Horus II project. The data is necessary to ascertain the history of the object in question.

  [End Memo. It appears unsigned. No apparent sender.]

  Text file: MFRMII_Theories.txt

  Okay, these are my observations of this new reactor we’ve been working on. It seems to gather some sort of ambient energy through the related collectors. Then the energy is somehow converted to electricity using [text corrupted.]

  …/28/33

  We fired up the reactor for the first time. It is eerily silent, but the lights came on. The monitoring software shows the energy is being collected successfully. Output isn’t what is desired yet. Will tweak settings tom[text corrupted.]

  02/19/33

  The reactor seems to fight any complex electrical system put too close to it. Had my third laptop fried yesterday when I put it down next to the reactor. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason. I’ve requested additional hardware to determine what situations or conditions cause the aberrant behavior, but[text corrupted.]

  [The rest of the document is corrupted.]

  [Several images are present, though corrupted.]

  MFRMII-Line.PNG

  MFRMII-Collector_line.PNG

  MFRMII-Collector_BLDG_Plan.PNG

  [Additionally, two PDFs, also corrupted.]

  MFRMII Manual.pdf

  MFRMII Parts.pdf

  To be continued.

  In the Hall of the Mountain King

  I have been crawling on my stomach for hours, exploring this cave. I found it last summer when I was running through the fields of my home.

  I had gone out to get a Husky to keep me company. I named her Darla, and she loved going for runs. I hated them, but it was a new habit I was trying to form to get back in shape.

  She did her part, always ready for the next run. I began to enjoy roaming our property, empty this far north. We had woods and fields, hills leading into mountains. There were streams to splash through, and grass as high as my head. The air was still clean this far from the cities.

  We would run for short bursts when we started, but slowly I gained stamina. By the time summer came around we could go for an hour or more. Originally, I had moved far into the country to get away from cities and the life it demanded. All I saw day in and day out was concrete, asphalt, glass and steel.

  A house came for sale when I made the determination that I was done working behind a desk. It was far from the nearest major cities. Winters were cold and hard, but summers were pleasant. The property was 200 acres of land in the far north of Montana.

  It was totally off grid, though the previous owner hadn’t finished what he started. He was a survivalist, and he had it well stocked. There was enough food to feed a family of four for months. All it lacked when he passed was solar power and a well.

  Unfortunately for him, the Survivalist didn’t believe in doctors. So he waned in health, even while doing everything right. When he passed, the doctors discovered cancer all throughout his body. He died alone, far from anyone. Only his weekly delivery of supplies had caused him to be found.

  With no family, the state seized the property. They put it up on auction. I ended up being the only bidder. Nobody was interested in two hundred acres a hundred miles from the nearest major city.

  I sold my one bedroom condo in the city I had lived in for over a decade. With that, I paid the property off entirely. I still had more than enough to put in a high end solar array and dig a deep well that wouldn’t run dry for fifty years or more of heavy use.

  I contracted the same supplier to bring supplies, but changed it to every other week. Then I began a large garden and built a greenhouse. Darla and I were the only ones living on the property, and between the garden and greenhouse, I was able to supplement our food enough that we only needed supplies once a month after the first six months.

  Self sufficiency was a goal that I sought to realize through hard work. The first year was a whirlwind. I lost forty pounds, and my health was better than ever. Darla grew from a wiry pup into a large gorgeous beast of a dog. We continued to run every day. There was so much property that we never went to the same area twice in that first year.

  I did have a neighbor, though they were roughly seventeen miles away. There would be no casual dropping by for a cup of sugar. I planted hops in the spring, and harvested before summer ended. All that fall I preserved or used hops to brew my own beer.

  The hops died, and the leaves on the trees turned orange and red. We continued running, moving into the woods on the south end of the property. Our runs would last hours, Darla always ready to run longer. We had covered nearly half of the property by the time the first snows fell.

  I decided then we would retread old ground. The snow fell thick and white, blotting out whole details of the world. It caused a peaceful silence to fall, the kind that was impossible to find in a city. We would run in the early afternoon, when the day was at its warmest.

  I loved watching Darla frolic in the snow. She would stomp about and play in the holes she made. She always brought a smile to my face. Our runs were so different after the snow fell. It was just us, the crunching snow, and our breath.

  Until one day, when I stepped on a sagging patch of snow and fell through a crust of ice. I tumbled down a slope, feeling rocks jab and slash at me from all sides. I only had a light jacket on over my long sleeved shirt. I had good winter pants on.

  When I came to a rest, I could only groan. I looked up through the narrow gap my tumbling body had made. I tried to rise, and gasped in pain. I felt my forehead and found blood. I checked the rest of my body, slowly. My leg
was bent in the wrong direction.

  I had slashes through my jacket and pants in several places. The tumble had been a rough one. I shouted for help, for Darla. I couldn’t hear her anywhere. The snow was piled high, though it had only been mid calf when I was running.

  I could see more than six feet of snow before the steel gray sky loomed. Behind me, at the back of the opening, sat a yawning darkness. Black so deep I couldn’t tell if the far wall was six inches or sixty feet away.

  I was no longer moving. This was a dangerous lack of action in the dead of winter. My leg stiffened, cold seeping through my pants. My skin tightened up. The ache went bone deep. Sensation slowly faded. My stomach rumbled, and my nose and throat ached with thirst.

  I had snow all around me, ice under me, and no water I could drink. Putting snow in my mouth was a surefire way to kill myself through hypothermia. I began to shiver, uncontrollably. I was comforted for a time, knowing my body was fighting to keep me alive.

  I grew far more concerned when hours had passed and I stopped shivering. I closed my eyes in exhaustion. I couldn’t shout anymore. Fatigue claimed me, dragging me into the black depths.

  Lights swirled in the darkness. Blazing bright and darker than any black I had ever witnessed. The flowed over and through me. In a sudden tug, I was looking down at myself. My skin was blue, pale and faded with cold and death. My body tightened in death, curling into a fetal position as the muscles dehydrated and gradually froze solid.

  Night fell overhead, then day rose. The sky continued its cycle for days, then weeks. The snows thawed, pouring around my corpse. It decayed rapidly in late spring. Time raced forward, heedless of my silent screams to go back. I watched, helpless, as my bones were picked clean by animals and insects. The sun shone fiercely for weeks in summer, bleaching my bones white.