by John O'Brien
“So, what do you think happened? What could have created those things and made the others so mindless? Aside from the dead bodies we’ve seen,” an officer queried.
“It could have been a government experiment. Although the specifics are beyond me,” another stated.
“It could have been a number of things. And, I doubt we’ll ever really find out. Now, looking at it, there aren’t any signs of nuclear weapons being launched. And if there had been an exchange, we would have received our war footing messages, regardless of the depth. If it were a biological attack, then those people would be dead. And, I can’t think of a thing that could cause something like those ghost-like apparitions. Again, we’d have received something.
“I think our timing in conducting the deep-sea test is what saved us from whatever happened. So, although it may look like we’re it, the odds dictate that there have to be other survivors. Miners, the lucky—or unlucky—spelunkers, perhaps others. However, they would have exited into a mess. In my opinion, if this thing spans the globe, there’s little chance that anyone near a populated area could have survived for long, no matter how great or small the populace. Anyone emerging from underground would have run into a buzz saw. Perhaps someone in a remote cave could have made it through, but the odds seem minimal.
“Now, as to the why, I haven’t the faintest idea. It could be an experiment gone awry, but the important thing for us is that we have things to deal with. What happened may or may not be important. That stranded sub suggests that not much survived, but I want us to keep broadcasting on ELF and emergency channels nevertheless,” Lawrence said.
“Maybe a meteor hit and brought some kind of virus,” an officer mentioned.
“If that were the case, then the sub yonder wouldn’t have been affected, as it would have been underwater. If it had been an impact large enough to affect the globe, we’d see debris in the air, perhaps even a nuclear winter of sorts. Even if it were an ocean impact, there would be signs. So, I think we can safely rule that out,” Grieves stated.
“What about aliens?”
“We’re not even going there,” Grieves replied with a shudder, looking upward as if to see through the ceiling.
“Okay, I have a question,” an officer spoke. “If whatever happened affected both people and electronics, then how would the sub have been able to have power, yet the people on board apparently affected?”
The room was silent, each expression thoughtful and they mulled over the question.
“We obviously have very little clue as to what happened. Perhaps there were two events, one which knocked out the power systems and one that caused what we’re observing with the people. It could be that the depth had a factor on one without the other,” Grieves mentioned, shrugging.
“Okay, let’s stay focused. We don’t know what it was, and may not ever find out. Seeing we weren’t affected upon surfacing, despite our proximity to those in the escort vessels, I’m taking us off the 24/7 MOPP 4 requirement. Now, it’s apparent that there’s little chance of us going ashore for an extended period of time, at least from what we’ve seen. So, that means this is our home for the time being, until we figure out a long-term solution. Our food is running low again, so we’ll have to scavenge. If we can gather enough to sustain us for a while, we can figure out what comes next. Some of the smaller islands in the Caribbean looked promising, but we’ll cross that when we come to it.
“At the moment, we have fuel and a safe place. But, we’ll have to make landfall at some point, because this boat will take a lot of maintenance and will eventually fail. So, I’d like for everyone here to think about possibilities, which we’ll share at a later meeting. For now, we need food,” Lawrence said.
“The supply center up the James River?” Grieves suggested.
“I think that may be our best bet. We’ll scout it out and see if it’s a viable solution,” Lawrence responded. “For now, we park ourselves further offshore and get ready to head in after dark. That way we won’t draw others up the riverbanks. We’ll look at the facility at first light and make our determination then.”
“Same shore crew?”
“I think so, as long as you think they performed well. Make any changes you feel necessary,” Lawrence said.
* * * * * *
The raft lurched as it hit the sandy shore. Two men immediately jumped off to the side and splashed into the water. The Washington sat out in the channel, bathed in the rays of the early morning sun. They had opted to use the life raft as opposed to docking the sub at the long L-shaped jetty extending into the river. The time necessary to dock and cast off would hinder a quick departure in case they were assaulted in overwhelming numbers.
The raft hissed across the beach as they pulled it up to the edge of a rocky bluff lined at the top with trees. They were near the back of the supply center annex, opting to stay away from the admin buildings with the thought that those might be the more populated areas. A few faint screams rose from that area, giving credence to their assumption. Other shrieks echoed across the river from communities up and down its length.
Scaling the small cliff, Grieves looked through the dim lighting under the wooded boughs and didn’t see anything moving. The plan was to cautiously work their way into the rear of the complex and search the large warehouses for nonperishable food stores. This may be their last run ashore, so they wanted to get as much as possible, making multiple runs if the time and those “things” allowed. With what he’d experienced, he no longer looked at those affected by whatever happened as people, but as nameless creatures to be avoided.
The general consensus was that time and space was somehow torn, thus creating a duplicate presence of the afflicted that somehow remained tethered to them. Others offered that they were souls that were partially ripped. Some suggested that the catatonic ones had their souls entirely torn away, leaving only some of the basic brain functions working. Weird as it might be, Grieves was in the camp that they were looking at partially attached souls. In his mind, there was no other explanation for what they were seeing. It was consistent with the idea that some experiment had gone awry.
Having watched the video many times, it appeared that the ones with the ghostly auras attacked non-catatonic people who didn’t have the auras and turned them, much like a zombie story. Doing that somehow released the soul, as did death. He believed the misty rising and vanishing of the apparition following death was the soul being released. And the expression of agony was the soul unable to be free, forced to remain with the body. The tearing of the soul must create a mental agony beyond compare.
Normal physics seemed to have taken a step to the side. The ability to shade-step through solid objects indicated some kind of rip in the fabric. They had no explanation for how, but the shades had some sort of nebulous magical ability beyond comprehension. Discussions ventured along both scientific and religious contexts, but neither one ended up explaining what they had observed. The one thing they could all agree on was to begin calling them reapers.
Throughout the woods leading to the annex, rays of sunshine angled through the boughs. Motes of dust circled within the beams of light, giving the rays texture. The woods diminished the screams rising in the distance, shutting them off as if a switch were thrown. Seeing nothing under the limbs, Grieves signaled for his team to move further in. Their steps were slow and measured, making sure they didn’t step on any of the dry debris. The last thing they needed was to stir up unseen trouble by a loud snap of a twig or crunch of a leaf. With breaths held and weapons at the ready, they crept past trunks rising into an umbrella of leaves.
Before long, the six men came upon a concrete pathway that snaked its way between the trees. Crouching next to a trunk, Grieves looked both ways to find the path empty. Down one way, the walkway ended at a shooting range. In the other direction, it led up a hill to the annex itself, where the tops of several large warehouses were visible. As at the airfield, he placed two in front, two in the middle, and two at the
rear.
As they passed a concrete yard filled with light-gray propellers, heads swiveled in every direction, eyes attempting to see through the shadows and pierce the veil of the unseen. Grieves’s heart rate increased as the warehouses slowly came into view. His nerves were so on edge that he felt as if he could taste the colors and hear the rays of the sun as they reflected off the surrounding landscape.
The path ended at a roadway running around the perimeter of the annex, the overhanging boughs shading portions of it. To the left, ten warehouses, each more than the length of two football fields and a hundred feet wide, were sandwiched between the perimeter road and one that ran through the middle. On the right were six more warehouses, even larger. In front of each, concrete ramps led up to large rolling doors with normal doors to the side. Several unmoving bodies adorned the ramps near some of the doorways.
Grieves crouched, directing his gaze down the outside roadway and then to the open ground between the two warehouses in front. Several metal freight containers stacked between the large buildings partially blocked his view, but he didn’t see anything moving. Just up the road, an RV and sedan were parked at the side of the road. Grieves momentarily contemplated seeing if either would start, but immediately dropped the notion as the sound would certainly bring any reapers.
“Which one, sir?” one sailor asked.
“I have no idea,” Grieves admitted.
“Are we going to search them all? That seems like it will take more time than we have.”
“If we make our way to the main road running through the middle, maybe there will be some indication of what’s stored in each one,” Grieves suggested.
“It’s worth a try, sir.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
As Grieves stepped out of the trees, the sound of distant shrieks returned, periodically floating over the roofs of the immense warehouses. He ran across the road, hearing the pounding footsteps of the others behind. They hit the ground and ran for the concealment of the freight containers, their breaths growing ragged over the long-distance run.
Grieves heard the jangle of sling mounts, the panting breaths, the thud of running footsteps. They finally came to the first container, every one of them bent over with their hands on their knees and breathing heavily.
“Damn. And here I thought…I thought I was in shape,” one softly exclaimed.
“Me, too,” Grieves agreed, catching his breath.
Peeking around the edge of the container, he saw a long shadow on the main road, growing closer. Not drawn like the others by the foghorn, a reaper came into view from around the corner, stumbling forward in the sunlight. The ghostly aura vanished into the body and the man stumbled to his knees. Watching the man, Grieves heard him sobbing and muttering, the words unintelligible. The apparition shot outward, straining to break away. The man screamed in obvious agony. The opaque twin followed suit, the voice hollow as if it were coming from a distance. As the aura settled back into hovering at the man’s side, he rose and began stumbling into the grassy area where the team was crouched by the containers, now apparently hearing the blast of the foghorn in the distance.
Grieves rubbed his finger along the trigger guard, not knowing what to do. If they made a run for it, they’d most certainly be seen. If they fired, they’d be heard. Anxiously, he watched as the man continued between the buildings and toward the team. The man angled back and forth, yet his overall path took him deeper between the warehouses. Grieves tried to will him away, but to no avail. The beating of his heart was felt in his temples and his breath was hot and dry as he inhaled. As the man approached, Grieves edged back, barely keeping the man in sight as he tried to remain hidden. If they had to, they’d edge around the containers and play ring-around-the-rosy. Grieves moved around one corner as the man came parallel to their hiding place.
“Sir, there’s another one on the road,” a sailor whispered.
Looking over this shoulder, Grieves saw another long shadow growing larger on the road.
Fuck! We’re going to get trapped, he thought, trying to come up with a solution as he watched the shadow.
“Sir, we can’t let them get close,” a sailor commented.
“I know, I know,” Grieves replied.
A loud scream coming from over this shoulder nearly caused Grieves’s heart to stop. Turning his head, his breath caught as there was a reaper not fifteen feet away, the ghostly aura wavering to the side.
“Help me…please,” the man said, his eyes filled with pain.
“Help me…please,” the inverse shadow mimicked.
His mind frozen with fear, Grieves’s body reacted. He brought the M-4 up and depressed the trigger. Three rounds exited the barrel and slammed into the man’s torso, stitching upward. The sound of the gunfire echoed off the building walls and reverberated across the base. The man crumpled inward and fell to the ground on his side. With a wisp of smoke coming out of the barrel and his mind still frozen, Grieves watched as the man began to crawl, the apparition repeatedly lunging forward. Grieves pointed his barrel and fired another burst into the man’s head. Blood, bone, and gray matter sprayed across the grass, and the man slumped as if deflated.
Screams erupted all around, drawing Grieves out of his frozen state.
“Everyone, back to the boat. We’ve blown it. Let’s go,” Grieves shouted.
The one on the road materialized just behind them, the man shrieking. The six men raced across the grass, each one filled with adrenaline, fear carved on their expressions. Grieves willed his tired legs to pump faster, his only thought to get him and his men to the raft and push out into the water. He looked over his shoulder and saw the one following, his body blurring as the apparition shot forward, the distance closing.
“Keep going,” he shouted, stopping and turning around.
The men raced past as Grieves shouldered his weapon. The ghost lunged, the body blurring again. Looking through the sights, he followed the apparition to where it came to a halt, several feet in advance. He steadied himself, waiting for a second. The body materialized just where the inverted V of the ACOG scope was aimed. Grieves pulled the trigger, the body shuddering under the multiple hits. The man staggered forward for a couple of steps and then fell forward to the grass. A misty shape rose, then vanished. Grieves turned and ran to catch up with the others.
With panting breath, they ran for the perimeter road, their packs bouncing on their backs. Out of the corner of his eye, Grieves saw more approaching from the corner of the opposite warehouse, their screams piercing the air. Several blurred and advanced, cutting off their escape route. The team stopped and began firing into the midst of the obstacle. Several reapers went down in a torrent of fire, their apparitions rising. Injured reapers crawled across the ground or stumbled onward.
Grieves added his fire to the mix, sending additional ones to the ground. More materialized with others in the distance. Glancing in the other direction, Grieves saw still more coming. If they stayed and fought off those arriving in front, they’d allow the ones behind to catch up. The men walked forward, delivering burst after burst. At the corner of the building, Grieves observed yet more down both sides of the perimeter road, the bodies and ghostly figures filling the street. The path down to the raft was agonizingly close, but they’d have to fight through a multitude. They could cut directly through the trees, but they didn’t seem to be able to outrun the reapers with their ability to teleport.
In a clear moment of thought, Grieves easily envisioned the lot of them becoming surrounded and overrun. The distance between them and the reapers was getting too close.
“Into the warehouse! Now!” he shouted, giving up the thought of fighting their way through the arriving horde.
Without a word, the men turned and ran for the nearest entrance door. Bodies blurred and materialized closer. Grieves felt like he was in a nightmare and hoped that the door wasn’t locked or key-coded. At the door, he pulled hard on the handle. It didn’t budge, nearly jarring Grieves’
s shoulder out of its socket.
“Shit!!! Try the rolling door…quickly!’ Grieves shouted.
“We won’t have time,” one sailor yelled, and began running toward the nearby RV.
“No…No!” Grieves hollered, but to no avail.
The man raced across the ramp and vanished around the side of the vehicle. Gunfire sounded as two of them tried holding off the nearest reapers. Two others stepped to the side and heaved on the huge rolling door. It lifted with a metallic creaking, the segments vibrating in and out, and then stopped a couple of feet off the ground. Several reapers blurred into existence at the foot of the concrete ramp, others running along the perimeter road. Screams filled the air, many coming from the sides. The once empty grounds the team first trod had filled in what seemed like seconds.
“Under…everyone roll under,” Grieves yelled.
Without exhibiting a single graceful ballet move among the lot of them, the five remaining members dove and rolled under the small opening, continuing to tumble until they were clear. Grieves felt his shoulder grind on the hard ground, getting to his feet as quickly as possible. Keeping hold of his carbine in one hand, he grabbed the door and put his foot on the lower edge. He pushed down with all of his might, the door protesting every inch of the way.
The sliver of light shining under the doorway narrowed; the grinding door echoing throughout the vast interior. With a loud clang, the door slammed into the concrete and the light went out. Outside, screams reverberated against the building, the door vibrating with the intensity of the noise.
Near total darkness reigned inside, but after his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the vast warehouse, Grieves noted a little radiant light that penetrated from a series of ventilation openings high overhead. He made out a locking mechanism, much like that on a garage door. With a lunge, he shoved the metal rod into its designated slot.