Planar Wars: Apertures (Book 1)

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  “Good call, man. Even I don’t know what’s happening,” he replied.

  “At least you got the new uniform. You’ve been bitching about your unit not being issued with it,” I said with a smile.

  “Yeah, we got them as we mobilized for this operation. Though it feels strange, walking about in your hometown in full battle gear,” he answered.

  “Martial law, Stan. How long d’you think you would be deployed?”

  “Don’t know, man. Which is again weird. We usually get some idea of how long the call-up will be. This time, we didn’t get any time frame. Not even a vague one. And we got issued with the heavy clappers this time around.”

  Stan invariably referred to handheld heavy ordnance as clappers. As in smash the clapper on both sides of the head. There might have been variations in the description: an air-to-ground missile –known as an ATGM — would become an Iron Clapper and a portable surface-to-air missile, or SAM, an Air Clapper. Well, that was Stan for you. He found the long technical descriptions bothersome or too bland.

  “Well, I, for one, am happy to see you guys around. With those terrorists in South Dakota, there’s no telling what would happen,” I said, hoping to get some information from Stan. I knew better than to ask a direct question.

  “Well, that part was clear enough, but our instructions were only to deploy and show the flag, reassure people that we’re here. Prevent riots and vandalism. That sort of thing. But we were instructed not to deploy checkpoints. Instead, we were to watch for anything unusual. No ID checking even. Anything comes up, we’re to contain it,” he said in a low voice. “We don’t even know what we’re supposed to contain. Nobody gave us that particular tidbit, only the reassuring statement that we’ll know it when we see it.”

  “Huh? Now, that’s what I call strange. Especially with those armored heavies I saw.”

  Wasn’t identity verification needed for counter-terrorist operations, I wondered.

  “Yep, we even have some helos on standby.”

  “So, you seen the rest of the guys?” I asked.

  “I heard they’re also deployed in the general area, including the town and some important institutions. Riot deterrent, probably. Though I heard Sam just got his 1st Lieutenant commission. That lucky SOB.”

  “Good to see you, Stan. I have to go get Jen. I guess her test is nearly over by now. Heard it was a practical exam.”

  “Oh, that’s tough. Say hello for me and take care. This entire thing is weirding me out. Still have your Dad’s shotgun?” Stan asked in a low voice.

  “Yep. Why?”

  “Hang on to it. Get more ammo if you can. There’s a lot the brass is not telling us,” he whispered.

  “Will do, Stan. Thanks, and take care.”

  “You too, bro,” he answered and waved his hand in a goodbye as I drove toward the campus. Then I remembered I’d forgotten to raise the question of why the television stations and cell phone networks were off the air.

  Normally, a return to one’s alma mater would usually bring back fond or bitter memories, depending on the experience. But that wasn’t on my mind. I wanted to find Jen as quickly as possible.

  As soon as I parked the car in front of the main administrative building, I got out and looked for old Lou, the guy in charge of the grounds. He was usually in front of the main building at this time of the day, warding off uncaring students and passers-by from his newly-planted grass and foliage. Somebody should have told him his signs were too small, but apparently—even after so many years—nobody had informed him, for fear or out of concern for his age, I didn’t know.

  He could be quite cantankerous at times but if there was one thing he knew well, it was information about the school and whatever was going on. I ran to him and asked where Jen’s practical examinations were being held. He told me it would be in the outdoor chem lab, as people referred to it. That was a separate structure at the back of the large one in front of me, beside the sports field. Students used to joke that it was separated from the rest of the interconnected halls because it was reserved for the mad scientists of the university. It could have been true.

  Not the mad scientist aspect of it, but I did know chemical experiments involving dangerous materials were invariably conducted there. It was an old building, dating back to the early years of the university, but made of stone and brick, a sturdy construction requiring minor renovations to keep it up to date.

  The campus looked nearly empty. But that was exam week for you.

  I quickly walked through the wide hallway marking the middle of the main building and could see the chemistry building ahead, beyond a garden adorning the back of the place. A sudden twilight fell on the area just as I was crossing the miniature park. The automatic evening lights turned on, assuming it was already dusk. Caught by surprise, I stopped in my tracks. It was a strange phenomenon, an abrupt change in the available light, blotting out the sunny morning — and then a gradual shift to a visibility roughly equivalent to that brought on by a heavily overcast sky.

  Then I noticed numerous flashes from up high reaching the ground. I ran toward Jen’s examination room.

  A fleeing mob greeted me as I reached the entrance of the building, making it impossible for me to push through. The panic-stricken crowd could have trampled someone to death, but thankfully it didn’t happen. I tried stopping a male student but he pushed me back and continued running.

  I immediately grabbed the next fellow and luckily for me, he was a bit smaller than I was. Most of the first ones to get out were male, that I remember.

  “What’s happening?” I shouted at him as I held him against a wall, my hands grabbing his shirt by the throat. My adrenaline was up by then or I didn’t know my own strength; good thing I didn’t choke the fellow.

  “Monsters, man! In there! Just appeared out of nowhere!” the guy replied, the panic in his eyes quite obvious. I immediately released him and forced my way through the now-lessened crowd escaping from the structure. I called out Jen’s name as I ran along the hallway. I knew her exam was being held in Room 1C.

  Fortunately, the two-story structure was a simple design, a long passageway with entrances at the ends, with rooms on either side. As I reached 1C, the hallway was already empty, but I could hear screaming and growling from inside. Without thinking, I barged in.

  In front of me, in a corner of the room, was a spectacled middle-aged man holding a wood and metal chair with both hands. Flanking him were two students, a male and a female, also with chairs in their hands. At their back were about five more students.

  The three were trying to hold at bay a bizarre creature giving off low and unearthly snarls while continuously swiping at the furniture barring its way. Jen was among the students at the back, but unfortunately, they were trapped. Their position was beside the window with narrow iron grilles, a legacy of the building’s old-fashioned past.

  I’d seen worse things since then. Not that I’d gotten used to them popping up from time to time at unexpected moments. From what I knew now, that kind of monster was among the lowest in the rung of creatures that came over to Earth from the world we knew now as Kur. They were akin to scavengers. But that was us classifying them. Nobody knew what function they performed in the confusing matrix of beings from that plane.

  But more on that later.

  The monster was dog-like, about five feet from the ground up to what we could call its occiput, or the highest part of the skull; it had four legs, a tail, and of course, a canine-like head. But that’s where the similarity ended. Change the skin to a slimy, reptilian greenish-gray with scales or bony extrusions in places, the head into that of a malnourished alligator with large serrated and uneven fangs, give the paws long, sharp-looking talons, and make the substantial long tail a bony extension of the monster, and there you have it.

  The tail looked positively wicked. It ended in a ball of spikes dripping in mucus, which in turn gave off smoke as soon as large drops dripped to the floor. But the tail was already ra
ised and looked as if it was going to whip forward. There was no way a chair could stop it. No, it didn’t have horns, for those thinking it.

  I took in the scene, a split-second consideration. Being the impulsive goof that I was, I picked up a chair near the door, rushed forward, and hit its behind with all the strength I could muster. What I didn’t notice was all the strewn metal beside the creature, from destroyed chairs and tables, was visibly and quickly rusting into nothingness.

  4

  Carnage

  The chair splintered, and I mean really broke apart. I doubt if most of the metal part of the furniture still existed when it hit the beast. Rust had covered almost all of it already and flecks of paint were peeling off. The wooden armrest remained the same, though it was also turning to kindling by the time I drew back. I doubt if I even hurt the creature but I did throw off its aim, its spiked tail swinging high over the heads of those in front of it.

  Unfortunately, I caught its attention.

  Most beasts would have angrily turned immediately toward a new aggressor, especially one with the nerve to attack it, no matter how futile the strike might be. It was an animal instinct, a primal one that even humans exhibited. But this bizarre, giant dog-like monster did nothing of the sort. It slowly turned its head to look at me. Then its body soon lazily followed, changing its position to face the interloper. Namely, me. For a moment, I was dumbfounded by how alien it looked. Its pupil-less eyes and jagged teeth were black, the tongue was crimson of a very dark hue.

  It radiated malice, hate, hunger, and a perceptive intelligence, easy to sense. In that fleeting moment, I also realized all the metal parts lying on the floor around it were now gone, dissolved into piles of rust.

  I backed away quickly. The beast followed.

  Surprisingly, the rest of the chairs in the room were in one piece, at least, those not destroyed in the disturbance. However, a chair buckled and disintegrated as the monster passed it. Whatever the thing was, it emitted some form of radiation, destroying any metal around it. A quick feel at the zipper of my jeans and I knew my assumption was right. Good thing I was wearing a canvas belt with a plastic buckle.

  “Run!” I cried out while walking slowly backward. The previously cornered group was stuck in one place, morbidly fascinated by the sight of the creature stalking me. No, playing with me, its prey. I didn’t dare turn my back and run for the door. It would have been upon me in less than a second.

  My shout broke the frozen tableau of trapped students and as one, they all rushed toward the other door of the room. Except two – Jen and the spectacled man I guessed was the professor. Each had picked up an undamaged chair and was slowly approaching the beast from the side. To be honest, I was a bit relieved, a foolish attitude given the circumstances; I was also extremely dismayed, and terrified.

  I quickly looked around and saw a piece of broken wood on the floor, a remnant of the professor’s table. It was about four feet in length and irregular in shape, but had a pointy end. Quickly, I picked it up and directed the spiky edge toward the beast.

  I was lucky, that table must have been a legacy from the building’s early years. It was robust, echoing the solid build of the past. Flimsy as my idiotic excuse for a spear may have been, unexpectedly it gave me a tiny measure of confidence. My mind dimly told me that what I was experiencing was possibly what early man had felt when he went valiantly head to head with an enormous beast, bearing only his makeshift spear made out of a branch and a sharpened stone. That’s what I get for being a history major, extraneous thoughts at the inopportune times. And it was the worst time ever to have such an epiphany.

  Having only a long pointed stick while facing a dangerous predator does make a slight difference in attitude; not that I was going to curl up on the floor and invite it to have me for lunch, however. But I was annoyed at Jen and her companion for sticking around. In the best-case scenario, it would only have me as its main meal. Right now, it had an appetizer, a main course, and dessert.

  “Why are you still here? Run!” I shouted, keeping my eyes on the beast.

  “I’m not leaving you!” answered Jen. I knew that tone. She could be stubborn, very stubborn, at times. When that happened, there was no point arguing unless you wanted World War Three.

  “A dead student wouldn’t look good on my resume,” deadpanned the other. At that moment, I decided I liked him. I loved that sense of humor.

  Then, Mr. Spectacles threw his chair at the beast and swiftly picked up another. The object, being relatively whole, crashed against the dog-like head. Jen followed suit, this time hitting the neck. That caught the creature’s attention. I guessed it was hurt a bit and it turned its face toward the two, lifted its head, and growled, a really unearthly combined roar and hiss, something you would hear as artificially-generated sound in horror flicks rather than on nature channels.

  I didn’t know what had come over me. It could have been the fear of the horror pouncing on Jen, but seeing its diverted attention, I immediately moved forward and with all my strength, thrust the laughable pointed wood through its left eye.

  Its skin or hide was obviously naturally armored. Only a moron would strike where it was strongest. I immediately jumped back, wary of the spiked tail, but not before punching the edge of the wood to drive it further inward. The monster stood still, gave a shudder, and heavily slumped down on its stomach. Then it quickly dissolved, leaving a tiny mass of black soil behind.

  Me? I was stunned at the turn of events. Only Jen’s tight and painful hug—and kisses, by the way—brought me out of my disbelief. The entire incident was so weird, so out of this world, that I could scarcely believe it had happened. I didn’t pinch myself. Jen’s painful embrace was more than enough. I didn’t get the “you’re so brave,” speech. Apparently, that only happens in the movies or fiction books.

  “We better get out of here,” said Mr. Spectacles. “No telling how many more of these creatures are around.”

  “Let’s go,” I said. I couldn’t pick up the wooden stick I’ve used. The part which had entered the beast’s head through its eye was charred and giving off wisps of smoke. Instead, I opted for another piece on the floor. It was longer but thinner. Jen and the other guy followed my example and got pieces of wood for themselves.

  As we moved toward the door, introductions were made.

  I was right. Mr. Spectacles was Professor Stevens, a visiting professor. No wonder I didn’t recognize him. Four years of college, and eventually one would be familiar, if not with the names, then with the faces of the people inhabiting the environment.

  I held Jen in my arms as the good professor slowly opened the door and looked out the hallway.

  “All we have to do is get out of here, cross the park and the main building. My car is parked right in front,” I whispered.

  The professor nodded. We moved out to the hallway and paused at the entrance, keeping low. Sounds of screams and frightful howls filled the air. For a deceptively empty campus, there appeared to a lot of people. In the distance, we could see groups fleeing a shadowy predator or groups of predators. The beasts looked like the one I had just killed. But the area in front of us looked clear.

  We kept our heads down while crossing the small park. I doubted if any monsters were hiding among the bushes; plenty of prey was running around in the open.

  As we were about to enter the main building, I saw a headless body several feet to our right, lying on the ancient cobblestones used as material for the pedestrian walkways of the campus, in a curled position, I think. It was hard to tell what I was looking at as it appeared to be a mound of bloody meat.

  It was heavily mangled, pieces were missing, and blood had soaked the stones. I couldn’t even tell if it had been male or female.

  With a stifled cry, Jen averted her eyes. The professor sadly looked at the body and slightly shook his head.

  “Come on, we still have our own lives to save,” he whispered.

  5

  Escape

&nb
sp; We got to the end of the main building without incident. I figured the unnatural beasts must all have been outside, hunting down fleeing prey. Screaming while running does attract attention, like the displaying one’s naked self before a famished lion while dipped in gravy and shouting insults at the animal.

  Predators do relish running meals. It adds a certain extra flavor.

  I told Jen not to look at the corridors on either side. Several bodies were there, though they were more like mounds of meat seasoned with blood.

  As with the dead person we’d seen at the back of the building, nothing remained to show it had ever been a human being, except probably whatever remained of their clothes. At that time, I couldn’t get a grip on the savage and brutal mangling of these victims. No matter how hungry a man-eating beast could be, it stood to reason that it would bite off chunks of what it wanted, leaving a reasonably identifiable form behind.

  But this? It looked like the beast bit off large pieces and then angrily scrambled the remains, a reversal of playing with food before eating.

  At the moment, we were safe, but the area in front of us was not, given the explosions and firing from what I assumed were heavy weapons which sounded in the distance. From the direction, it came from the town. The louder ones, I believed came from the soldiers stationed in the campus community.

  This was one hell of a firefight if the continuous firing was any indication.

  Through the trees which adorned the front of the university, more of the vile creatures could be seen, heading out of the campus or chasing isolated students.

  A lot of red mounds of flesh were heaped among the trees, the driveway, the flower beds, and even on the street just outside the campus gate. Fortunately, the immediate area in front of us didn’t have any bodies. We couldn’t have taken looking at such cruel carnage for long.

  Then all of a sudden, we heard the sound of loud gunfire. Loud, as in near.