Union

by Brian Spangler

  I let him touch my hair, she thought, shaking her head and wondering what it was she was doing. It seemed the right thing to do, and maybe it worked. He’s got to help us.

  But as crazy as Phil seemed, he knew a lot of what the machine was and why the others wanted them.

  The crashing against the lab’s door made her jump. It made them all jump. She reached for Declan’s hand, taking it in hers. She squeezed and waited for him to answer, but he seemed mesmerized by Phil’s crazy explanations. She gripped his hand harder a second time, urging him.

  “I understand,” he finally told her and gently brushed his hand against her cheek. The act didn’t go unnoticed and stopped Phil’s tirade mid-sentence.

  “You looked like my Emily just then… exactly like her,” he said, his eyes big and round. “At least I think you did… I’m sure of it. You did… damn swiss cheese of a brain—” The man went on, slapping his palm against his forehead.

  “You’ve got to go!” the young woman screamed from under a lab table. “I can see them coming in!”

  What did he call them, Sammi tried to remember. Zom… zomb.

  “The zombies are here for my baby!” she screamed, pulling the crazy man from his thoughts. “Please, we have to go.”

  “Yes, you’re absolutely right,” he told them, pointing into the dark vent. As they crawled inside, the darkness swallowed them whole. Stray light jutted from the sides of the vent, giving her an idea of what lay ahead. She turned back, expecting to find Phil, but he had disappeared from behind her. In the lab, she heard his voice, screaming at what he called zombies. “Goodbye ya fuggers… I’ll see ya on the flip side. Ya’all come back now, ya’ hear.”

  “What is he doing?” Declan asked, “I don’t think he’s right.”

  “I know, but he’s all we have,” Sammi told him.

  “Let’s get this party started,” Phil hollered into the duct work, crawling through with ease.

  “And you know where to go?” Declan asked. His voice sounded empty.

  “I should. I designed this place,” he answered with a snarky chuckle. “Also helps that I’ve spent a lot of time crawling around like a rat in a maze. Memorized for sure.”

  Sammi didn’t understand what the crazy man meant. His words lost her half of the time. When he lifted his chin forward, Declan turned and began to crawl.

  “Good luck,” Isla said from behind them, and then quickly pushed the vent cover back into place. The crashing and thumping from the zombies continued, and Sammi imagined that by now they were in the lab, tearing it apart as they looked for her.

  “Will your friend be okay?” she asked, turning her head and whispering. “Isla, is she safe or will they take her?”

  “Who? The zombie fuggers?” he answered with a question, shaking his head sarcastically. “Nothing to worry about. They don’t even see her in the lab. She’s invisible to them. As long as the instructions are programmed into their zombie brains, the only thing they can see is you and what you’re carrying there.”

  While the news that Isla would be fine comforted her, Sammi’s chest tightened and her mouth felt terribly dry. She tried to swallow and slowed to rub her middle. A soft thump came to her hand, telling her to move on.

  “I will, baby,” she answered and rubbed her middle again. “I will.”

  Minutes felt like hours as Sammi followed Declan, with Phil throwing the directions in a volley of words—some nonsensical, but enough to navigate the maze. Her hands and knees ached from the shuffle along the sheet metal, and of the occasional pinch from the sharp fasteners.

  The noise in the lab eventually faded, becoming distant and then suddenly ending. They had stopped when the silence reached them, and Phil said a few words about what zombies were all about. And as they followed his directions, the crazy man went on, wildly explaining the past centuries and how they had been lied to, deceived by what he called aliens. And while there had to be some truth to what he said, a lot of it sounded like made-up horror stories to fill a child’s head with nightmares just before bedtime. This last thought made her feel sorry for him—it made her wonder how much of his memories had been woven into the fantasies spun around by time.

  “You’ll take care of that baby,” Phil stated, interrupting the low drone of his story telling. “It’s a miracle, you know. A true miracle.”

  As if hearing his words, Sammi felt a bump inside her. Her heart swelled.

  “It is a miracle,” she agreed. “All of this is a miracle.”

  Ahead of her, Declan slowed. They were safe, buried somewhere deep inside the hidden passages. They could rest. Declan turned to face them, and in the dim light, Sammi could make out the concern in his expression.

  “What about the year?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “I saw what happened to my mother and sister… what about Sammi and the—” Declan’s lips thinned and turned down, his chin shook, and Sammi’s shared in his angst.

  “Oh Declan,” she began to say. “You can’t think that… I’d never let that happen.”

  “But what if you don’t have a choice,” he said. “Did my mom have a choice? My sister?”

  “Once we get outside, you and your baby will be safe,” Phil said, sounding oddly sensible. A calm had come into his eyes—a window, she thought, to the man he once was. “I’ve tried everything imaginable to learn about the cycle and how it works.”

  “What happens?” Sammi asked.

  “When the machine brings us back—the workforce, supporting all of this—you follow the lights. And it isn’t something you choose to do.”

  Sammi nodded, recalling how she listened to them, “It was like breathing. I had to, I had no choice.”

  “Exactly,” Phil snapped with a teacherly excitement. “That is the programming integrated into your DNA, a part of the cloning process. But I think it is only a shadow of their DNA, just enough to work. But it isn’t perfect. There are gaps, and that is how some of us become aware.”

  “And it only lasts a year, which is what happened to my mother and sister?” Declan added. “And that place… that awful place.” Declan reached over to take her hand. His eyes looked wounded, and fear twisted his face. Her heart went to him.

  “Almost,” Phil said. His tone reminded her of Ms. Gilly during one of her lectures. “That place, the soul of the machine. It is where the children of the machine go back home, feeding the soul, if you will.”

  Sammi glanced at Declan, confused shared by Phil’s explanation.

  “And by that, I mean—to feed the machine,” Phil added impatiently. “Before the alien DNA fades to nothingness and we wake to complete awareness, the programming sends us to feed the machine. And if the job we provided is still in need, then the machine brings us back.”

  “Was this my job,” Sammi asked, her voice shaking as she rubbed her middle. “Was this why the machine had us bring Declan in from the outside?”

  Phil looked at them, his excitement becoming a glib stare, “Yes. Yes it was.”

  “But we’ll change that,” Declan said, his voice rising. “By leaving the machine, leaving the lights. Sammi and the baby, they’ll be safe.”

  “I’ve tested it,” Phil said, nodding his head. Sammi felt the soft sting of anxiety, wondering how it was the cycle could have been tested. “A few times now. I tested it, living for a month or two past my expiration. In fact, to the machine, it was like I was invisible.”

  “How,” Sammi asked, but then immediately wished she hadn’t.

  “Plucked them!” Phil answered, and then made a loud popping sound, pointing to his eyes with an exaggerated motion. “Plucked them right out. It took me over a month of blindly feeling my way around before I could find the soul of the machine and end that little nightmare. And then, of course, the machine brought me back… again.”

  Sammi and Declan said nothing. She felt sorry for the man. Architect or not, he’d experienced a tortured existence; a hell that nobody should have had to endure.

  Without another
word, Declan gave Sammi a quick squeeze, kissing her atop her head. Declan reached into his coveralls and pulled out the index card. He gave it a long hard look, pushing his fingers over the numbers. He swiped to dry his cheek and handed the card to Phil.

  “My mother and sister died because of this,” he said. His voice warbled but sounded firm. “I brought this here to finish our end of gray skies. But now I understand how much more is going on. Will this help you stop the machines?”

  Phil took the index card and counted out the numbers in a soft murmur. “This one… the third one down. That’s us,” he told them. “It’s this machine. And the other numbers, they represent the other machines.”

  “So they will help?” Sammi asked, feeling hopeful.

  “Oh Yes. Yes, certainly, we can use this. From the computer terminals, we can access the other machine’s computer systems.”

  “I’m coming back to help,” Declan reminded Phil as he pushed ahead of Sammi. “When Sammi is safe, you’ll let me back in?”

  Phil nodded, his eyes sparking as if a fresh stock of ideas had suddenly come to him.

  When they moved on, Sammi listened to the quiet sound of their shuffling. Phil talked to himself, planning his attack from the computer terminals. And on occasion, his chattering drone was eclipsed by instructions to turn left or right. And finally Sammi saw the familiar gray daylight that she’d grown up with.

  Home, she thought and pressed her feet into the black sands. They were outside, and while she was tempted to look back at the machine, she decided against it. After all, there was nothing for her there. She took hold of Declan’s hand and everything suddenly seemed terrifically quiet and peaceful as if the world had stopped.

  11

  The cautions and concerns that weighed on her earlier steps had disappeared. Not just the fear of what lay beyond the fog, but that sense of being hunted had gone completely. For the first time, Janice relaxed in her walk with Richard. But there were other worries that raised questions. She thought of James, and of the index card, and that whatever he knew about the machines had likely lead to his jumping to his death. Just what exactly had the executives been doing? And what were their ties to the machines?

  Janice stayed close to Richard. She noticed that he also seemed to walk a little more freely. The tightness in his eyes and the endless furrow of his brow had relaxed. In the company of the Outsiders, traveling to the machine with a large group was easier. And if not for the one exception, Janice would have likely felt more secure than she had ever felt before.

  The clouds stayed high enough to show her the entire group. She kept her ears tuned to the sound of the ocean, knowing they never traveled more than a few hundred hands from the surf. A circle of men stayed tight around the group, their backs turned and their weapons at the ready to face anything that might lurch out of the fog. At the center of the group, the woman and children walked along in a tidy bubble of safety. The center of the group was for the pack’s most precious treasures: the children. And from time to time, they frolicked in a sudden spout of chaos and fun, only to have their playfulness doused by the stern grunts from their leader. While there was security in numbers, silence was the best safeguard.

  As Richard and Janice followed along, she led them toward the water’s edge.There was safety there too, and there was the bonus of being able to keep her feet cool in the water.

  The sea lapped against the shoreline with a soft clap. The tide was low, telling her they were near the top half of the day—six hours or so had passed since they’d sat and talked about what the machines were.

  Richard held Janice’s hand, helping her step over some of the looser sand. She tightened her grip, hoping he’d hold on a little longer. A brief feeling of disappointment came to her when he let go of her fingers. Somewhere in the recesses of her loneliness, she had hoped he was holding her hand because he wanted to.

  That’s okay, she told herself. We’re not here for that.

  When the group entered into a heavy cloud, the leader of the group grunted twice, sounding a signal to stop. Heavy gray mist folded over the heads and shoulders of the men and woman, and before they disappeared completely, Janice watched the men close in, tightening the circle around them. Janice reached for Richard’s hand, taking it before he disappeared too. The leader grunted twice more, and the shuffling sounds of their feet in the sand told her they were moving again.

  Janice felt her chest tighten in the thickness of the cloud as they blindly picked up the pace and moved forward. She kept her feet at the water’s edge, following it and listening to the occasional grunt from the pack’s leader.

  A hot breath was on her shoulder, startling her. Janice jumped and waved her hand at nothing. It’s impossible that anything was there, she told herself. Wasn’t it?

  “You okay?” Richard asked. “Janice?”

  “I’m fine,” she answered, brushing at her shoulder again just to be sure. “Just my nerves playing with me is all.”

  For the longest time, the men and woman stayed eerily quiet. If not for the grunt from their leader, Janice would have thought they were alone. She welcomed the cool water lapping against her feet and let the repetition ease her worries.

  Another hot breath touched her shoulder. Janice shrieked and gripped Richard’s hand, pulling him closer to her. The leader sounded out a rapid set of grunts, signaling to the group to stop. They were blind to the fog, but Janice felt the approach of the leader. He came within a few hands, just enough for her to see the outline of his tall figure.

  “With silence, we survive,” he instructed. But to Janice, his tone felt like a reprimand—the kind she had used herself when scolding her classroom. Heat from embarrassment flushed the skin on her neck and face, pinching the pits of her arms. “Silence is survival.”

  From behind them, Janice heard a memory—the short and brief sound of Harold Belker’s wheezy sniggering. At once, she was back in their classroom, listening to him, taunting with his evil laugh. More than ten years in the classroom, she knew that sound as well as any sound. She imagined nothing. It was Harold, and he was playing games with her.

  “I’m fine,” she said. She hated that her voice shook and sounded weak. “Just a bit startled, but I’ll be quiet.”

  The leader brushed past her, stepping into the water to go around them. A moment later she heard Harold call out that he was sorry, but his apologies were immediately cut off by the sound of a quick and stern beating. The sudden commotion lasted just a few seconds, but it was enough to bring a smile to her lips.

  More commotion came from ahead of them. The call of a wild animal and the thumping of feet against the sands. The leader brushed past her again, and she felt the warmth of his body quickly fade as he passed. He stopped just in front of her, raising his hands to his mouth, and sounded out the same wild animal call. When the call was returned, he turned and grunted. The sound of shuffling feet told them to move to the center of the pack’s bubble. Within seconds, the pack had knitted together into a tight bundle. Silence came then as the wild animal call rested on them once more.

  “Scouts,” Richard whispered. “Two, maybe three scouts walk ahead of us to signal if we’re approaching any danger.”

  With the entire pack collected into a tight group, the heat came over her like a heavy blanket. Sweat beaded on her head, and the light-headedness from the evening’s fire returned. She took to one knee and leaned on Richard, hoping he would not mind.

  “What is it?” she heard the leader ask. “What did you find?”

  “The machine,” a winded voice spat, choking to catch some air. “Ahead—a few hundred yards—the machine, and people. Two or three, I think.”

  Yards, Janice thought, having only known the term from Andie’s history lessons. But more important, they were near the machine.

  “Slowly,” the leader told his pack. “And quietly.”

  Janice felt the flush of embarrassment again, knowing that last statement was meant for her. She shook it off, tak
ing to her feet and moving forward.

  “We’re almost there,” Richard said, sounding relieved as he helped her. And for the first time since seeking out the machine, Janice felt the same.

  12

  The fog surrounded them—a relentless blanket of gray that brought with it both the familiar dangers they were brought up to revere and the safety of being hidden. Sammi tied off her end of the tether strap, taking his hand as they began to walk away from the machine. Declan looked back once, noticing that Sammi kept her hand to her middle. She didn’t look back at the machine. Not once. And he considered that maybe there was nothing for her to see. A sense of relief came to him, understanding that Sammi had been truly disconnected from the machine.

  She’s free, he thought and placed his hand on their baby. They’re free.

  Declan stopped when he heard something ahead of them approaching. The quick gate of footsteps shuffled against the sand to his right and left, surrounding them.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked, her expression dire. “Declan—”

  “Shhh,” he interrupted.

  Three sets maybe, but could be more, he guessed.

  The hairs on his neck rose, and his eyes grew wide as the feeling of being hunted consumed his senses. Instinct took over, and he dropped to his knees. Sammi followed him, leaning heavily against his body. Declan wrapped his arm around her nervously.

  Out of the fog, nearly a dozen legs appeared, vaulting in every direction around them, fixed upright like prison bars. He pulled Sammi in closer until he felt the moisture of her warm breath on his neck. His mind went to the zombies—had they somehow escaped the machine and followed them outside? But there was something primal about the motion of legs barring them. And there were the smells that had been absent inside the machine. Declan was certain that they were in the presence of hunters.

  Outsiders, Declan feared and braced for an attack, closing his eyes and draping his other arm over Sammi’s head. She began to cry, and he tried to comfort her with whispers of how much he loved her.