The Third Wave: Eidolon

by John O'Brien

  “Fuck me!” Hanson exclaimed in a whisper. “What is that?”

  Remaining quiet, Reynolds quickly looked across the rest of the village. Everyone he scoped was either conducting repetitive motions or had those inverse shadows next to them. Men, women, and children, all one or the other.

  “Call O’Malley. He’s going to want to see this,” Reynolds stated.

  A pause. “What the fuck? Are your comms working?” Hanson asked.

  Reynolds tried his to no avail.

  “Just go get him, we’ll figure this out later,” Reynolds said.

  Without taking his eye from the scope, he heard Hanson slide out of his position. The increasing warmth flooding over the land from the sun’s rays was barely noticed as Reynolds looked from one person to the next, his mind trying to rationalize what he was witnessing. He watched one woman as the apparition by her side shot through the wall of a house. She blurred and vanished through the same wall.

  “You have to be fucking kidding me,” he whispered. “What in the fuck was that?”

  He pulled his eyes away from the scope, his mind unable to come to terms with the information his eyes were feeding it. Soon, he heard the low rustling of Hanson returning with O’Malley. The big Irishman crawled up beside Reynolds.

  “Are you two smoking dope up here? Hanson told some wild ass story,” O’Malley quietly asked.

  “I wish that were the case. See for yourself,” Reynolds replied, looking to the side and meeting O’Malley’s eyes.

  With a grunt, O’Malley put his eye to the spotting scope. “Okay, where am I looking?”

  “Everywhere. Just pick any of the villagers,” Reynolds answered.

  There was a long moment of silence. Reynolds looked at the big sergeant, wanting to see his expression of surprise. However, the man just looked through the scope, moving it in small increments.

  “Well, well. Isn’t that something,” O’Malley finally said. “Just when you think you’ve seen it all.”

  “So, what is it? What do you think is going on?”

  “I’d say something got into their water—or ours?” O’Malley commented, continuing to observe the village.

  “How could something in their water cause this?” Reynolds asked.

  “It’s just an expression, dumbass.”

  “I swear I saw one of them just, well, morph through one of the walls. That ghostly thing, whatever it is, just went through and the woman blurred through right after it,” Reynolds said.

  “Uh huh,” O’Malley responded, still looking up and down the village streets.

  O’Malley swung the spotter scope to the side, toward the distant hills. “Looks like there’s company approaching.”

  Reynolds slowly shifted positions to give him a new vantage point. Several men and camels were working their way along the bottom of the steep slopes, heading toward the village.

  “I don’t see that they’re armed,” Reynolds observed.

  “No, but there’s no accounting for what’s in the containers,” O’Malley stated. “Note the time, numbers, clothing; you know the drill.”

  The caravan slowly traversed the valley floor, hugging the bottom of the hills. They watched the long, slow steps of the camels, the lethargic shuffle of the men guiding them with the reins.

  “Six unarmed men, eight camels, each carrying four large packs tied to the sides,” Reynolds muttered, making annotations on a pad, adding additional information underneath.

  He put his eye back to the scope, awaiting the meeting in the village in an attempt to ascertain their cargo. Coming out of the mountains, they had likely picked up the camel train on this side after hand-carrying whatever they were packing. There was no way the camels could have traversed the rough terrain. But, you never knew. The locals knew every footpath and probably had a superhighway that threaded its way through the hills. The caravan drew closer to the village, unaware of the eyes observing them from the ridge above.

  Reynolds watched as several villagers ran out from the edges and raced across the sandy valley floor in the direction of the caravan. More joined, every one of them with that weird white glow. A quick glance back in the village showed that the ones randomly walking into walls were still doing so. It was only those with the shadows who ran for the edge of town and beyond. The men in the caravan stopped and stared at the mass heading toward them, their expressions confused. The motions of the men guiding the camels indicated that they were yelling, either toward those approaching or among themselves.

  Some of those from the village dropped to their knees, gripping the sides of their heads, their mysterious white shadows gone. They resumed the chase as soon as the apparitions returned. The three hiding on the ridge remained quiet and motionless, watching. All at once, the men in the caravan scrambled, going for the bags hanging at the sides of the camels and frantically pulling on the knots. The leading edge from the village approached at a dead run. Weapons fell to the ground from hurriedly untied packs, the men scrambling to catch them as they fell, picking them up from the sandy soil.

  Reynolds watched as one of the apparitions leapt outward, diving into and vanishing inside one of the men’s mouths. The man went rigid, throwing back his head in obvious pain. A white shadow shot out from him while a second one drifted upward and vanished like a mist. The originator slumped to the ground. This was repeated among the caravan, until six villagers were lying on the sand and the six men from the caravan carried the ghostly images. The men appeared stunned and fumbled so much they weren’t able to get off a single shot. As the camels scattered across the desert valley floor, the remaining villagers, joined by the men in the caravan, erratically began heading back into the village.

  “What in the fuck did I just see?” Reynolds asked.

  “What. In the fuck. Was that?” Hanson stated, almost in unison.

  O’Malley grunted, then removed his eye from the spotter scope. “Well, boys, I think it’s time we made a radio call and got the fuck out of here.”

  “Oh, speaking of comms, ours aren’t working,” Hanson told him.

  * * * * * *

  “Are you sure the batteries are good?” O’Malley asked, the team gathered in a small perimeter.

  “Yeah, Chief, they’re good. Unlike our personal comms, the radio is on and working. We’re just not getting a reply,” Sergeant Mendez answered.

  “That could be due to the solar storm interfering with satcomms. Or these fucking hills. We have a day until we’re scheduled out of here, so we’re sticking to that schedule. Keep trying, every hour on the hour, but conserve that battery,” O’Malley responded.

  “And if we can’t raise anyone?” Mendez queried.

  “Look over there…way over there. Do you see that bridge? We can’t very well cross it right now, can we? We’ll figure it out when we come to it. Until then, we’ll keep up our regular observations,” O’Malley replied.

  “What do you think happened to those people?” Hanson asked once they were back at their observation post.

  “Fuck if I know,” Reynolds answered.

  “What if we aren’t here to monitor the traffic in and out of the valley, but to actually observe some secret experiment?” Hanson said.

  “You read too many books, man.”

  “But those lights we saw?”

  “Wouldn’t we also be affected? We were right under them as well,” Reynolds replied.

  “Maybe it was somehow targeted on the village and the lights were some kind of aftereffect.”

  “I suppose you’re one of those who think 9/11 was an inside job,” Reynolds commented.

  “Wasn’t it?”

  “Shut the fuck up and do that observing thing you’re supposed to be doing.”

  “Okay, professor, what’s your theory on what’s going on?” Hanson continued.

  “I’m not paid enough to have theories,” Reynolds responded.

  “Seriously, though. Something happened after those lights passed overhead. Think about it. It was
n’t like this yesterday. What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never heard or seen anything like it. If they didn’t have those freaky shadows, I’d say some virus infected their water supply. Some of them are in a zombie-like state, while the others seem rabid. But that white apparition shit kind of throws a wrench into that theory. So, long story short, I have no idea what’s going on,” Reynolds answered.

  “Maybe we need a bunch of exorcists rather than the Army,” Hanson joked.

  “Maybe so,” Reynolds responded, watching the village through his magnified view.

  The remainder of the watch was spent observing the odd behavior of the villagers. There were two very distinct groups; three if you counted the dead bodies along with those performing repetitive motions and those with the ghostly auras. Several times, both of them witnessed villagers morphing and vanishing into buildings. Watching the village kept the hairs on Reynold’s arms and neck on end, his mind attempting to understand the images his eyes were sending it.

  The next morning began like the previous ones, with repeated attempts to raise someone on the radio meeting zero success.

  “Okay, here’s what we have,” O’Malley began. “If comms haven’t been restored at this point, they may not be for some time. There’s a chance that the mountains are fucking up the reception, but we haven’t had a problem here before. So, we’re proceeding with the assumption that we’re comms out. That means we stick to the plan. Beginning in about thirty minutes, we’re bugging out of here to make our way to the extraction site and wait for our ride. No comms also means that we can’t call for help if we bite off an engagement that’s more than we can chew. You’re all big dogs or you wouldn’t be on the field, so we travel slow and stay concealed. If we’re engaged, we return fire and extricate ourselves. No prolonged firefight, is that clear?”

  The men nodded.

  “Okay, clean up this camp. Reynolds, you’ll be in the lead. Dixon, you’re our tail-end Charlie. Make sure you cover our tracks. Thirty minutes, ladies. Get your shit together,” O’Malley concluded.

  Reynolds tested his footing before putting his full weight on it as he led the team down the steep hillside. The sandstone may look stable, but could easily crumble. He worked his way carefully, utilizing the scant cover afforded by boulders strewn across the slope. From within cover, he surveyed both the ravine below and the opposite hillside before moving to the next cover. His thoughts occasionally strayed to the village on the other side of the ridge, still unable to comprehend everything he’d seen. It was going to be an unsettling debriefing once they returned to camp.

  At the bottom edge of the ravine carved out by millennia of runoff from the surrounding peaks, Reynolds paused. There weren’t any tracks across the sandy floor and he didn’t see anyone up or down the ravine. Careful recon of the opposite hill showed no movement or outline of anyone keeping watch. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to O’Malley, who then signaled. Six men rose from the surrounding rocks, materializing like ghosts, and dashed across the sandy strip of land.

  Dixon trailed slightly behind, smoothing over the tracks as best he could to make it look natural and undisturbed. Their passage wouldn’t hold up to close scrutiny, but the obvious signs would be obscured to any who observed it from a distance. Reynolds headed up the incline, aiming for a saddle that cut through the ridge line. On top, they again attempted to contact the base, but without success. They radioed their position in the blind, using the preplanned waypoint designators. During that day and most of the next, they moved up and over ridges, eventually turning down one of the ravines that led to their designated extraction point. Hidden among the rocks, they waited and listened for the telltale beating of rotors. However, the only sound was the wind as it swished around them.

  Shadows filled the ravine as the sun headed toward its appointed rendezvous with the western horizon. The time for their pickup had long since passed. It was rare for a ride to be so late, but not altogether unheard of.

  “Okay, gentlemen. It looks like we’re not getting a ride out of here today, and I’m not spending the night without having the high ground. Reynolds, find us a secluded place with a good observation point,” O’Malley ordered.

  “Why in the fuck would they forget us?” Hanson complained.

  “Because, dumbass, it’s the Army. Now, if you’re finished sucking on your thumb, get a move on,” O’Malley said.

  Camped under an overhang, with boulders providing decent cover from the opposite terrain and from below, the team settled into a tight perimeter. Reynolds untied his boots, emptying an entire desert of sand from each. He shook the grit from the rest of his body, digging the grains from his ears as best he could. He scrubbed his teeth with his fingers, and rinsed the grit out with a small sip of water.

  “So, Chief, have you thought about what we’re going to tell them when we get back?” Reynolds inquired.

  “What do you mean?” O’Malley asked.

  “I mean, if we tell them everything, then they’re going to wonder what poppy field we came across. I mean, shit, I’m not even sure what I saw right now,” Reynolds answered.

  “I’m going to tell them exactly what I saw. They can go fuck themselves if they don’t believe me. What’s the use of sending people out if you aren’t going to believe what they report, regardless of how fantastic it might seem? I’ll do my job and they can do what they like with the info. If they don’t like what I have to say, they can feel free to stop sending me out. I’m okay with that. If they doubt me to my face, I have a size 12 that’ll send them to the proctologist,” O’Malley responded.

  “Okay, fair enough. But, what did we see back there?” Reynolds questioned, all eyes turning to O’Malley.

  “Fuck if I know.”

  Eyes remained glued to the chief.

  “What do you ladies want? If I don’t know something, I say I don’t know. I don’t make shit up or come up with some out-of-this-world conspiracy bullshit. I don’t know what it was and I don’t really care. That’s back there and I’m here. I left my give-a-fuck back on that ridge.”

  Each turned back to their sector. As the sun cast an orange glow across the landscape, they ate and took care of the business of settling in for the night. Watches were set. The sun sank out of sight, day turning to night in a matter of minutes.

  “Conserve those batteries,” O’Malley said, noticing the watch pair donning their NVGs. “Use your ears. Unless they’re some super ninja, no one can approach our position without us hearing them first.”

  For some reason, they found that the batteries they removed from NVGs, their scopes, and the radio worked, while the ones from their personal comms didn’t. Hanson had mentioned that it could be because the comm batteries had remained in place when the solar storm hit, but there hadn’t been any ensuing conversation.

  Morning arrived without incident, other than sand creeping into every crevice and orifice as if it were a living being seeking shelter. The sun crept over the peaks to the east, filling the valley with its stark light and promising a hot day. Attempts to contact the base proved futile.

  “I think it’s safe to assume that we’ve been forgotten and aren’t getting a ride home. If they’ve lost comms, things must be pretty busy and we may have slipped through the cracks. So, that means we’re hiking it. That’s three days of walking in this terrain to the nearest camp. We’ll have to detour to this river,” O’Malley briefed, pointing to a location on his map. “Conserve our water and food, but most of all, go quietly and slowly. As we approach the base, watch out for the T-men in the hills observing the comings and goings. I’m going to get to my DEROS, so don’t fuck that up by giving away our position with your two left feet.”

  Reynolds crouched by a stream, filling containers. The long march through rough terrain had left the entire team parched. Lying on the ground, he reached out and submerged another container in the current. Feeling exposed, his tension was at an all-time high, but the heat of the day qu
enched much of the emotion. Hanson, by his side, nervously stroked his M-4 as he watched for movement.

  They were nearing the base, which meant that they had a greater chance of running into enemy observers. So far, they hadn’t seen a single soul, the only signs of civilization being the shattered, ghostly remains of a bombed-out village at the end of one of the valleys they’d crossed.

  “Okay, that’s it,” Reynolds whispered, sliding backward on his stomach and pulling the containers filled with water.

  The ridges reaching out from the depths of the mountains abruptly terminated at the start of a vast plain. Reynolds crouched next to a boulder, scoping in on a finger of land across a narrow ravine that extended farther out into the flatland. It pointed directly toward a yet unseen military encampment upon the plains. In his sight, a single man wearing darker clothing and a turban was walking erratically in circles. He was accompanied by the same ghostly shadow Reynolds had seen in the village. The man leaned forward every so often, tightly gripping his head, the ghostly image gone. When it again appeared, he threw back his head, his scream echoing down the narrow ravine.

  “Well?” O’Malley questioned.

  “Solitary observer, male and like those we saw at the village. He has binoculars hanging around his neck, but I don’t see any weapons. However, that doesn’t mean there aren’t any. He’s erratic and, well, you can hear the rest,” Reynolds responded.

  “Are you sure he’s the only one?”

  “As sure as I can be,” Reynolds answered.

  “Is anyone else struck by the fact that there aren’t any choppers visible? I mean, have any of you ever seen such an empty sky this close to a base?” Hanson said.

  “I noticed, but we have more immediate problems,” O’Malley responded.

  O’Malley turned toward Reynolds. “Can you take him out from here?”

  “Well, yeah, but he’s not armed,” Reynolds replied.