by Addison Gunn
Lewis relayed Miller’s thought into the radio. “Unless you’ve got enough food and fresh water and places for all three thousand of us,” he said. “I suggest you allow us to do our jobs.”
“I’ve seen the creature, sir,” Miller said, addressing both Clark and Commander Lewis. He couldn’t help but notice each station inside the bridge was double-manned, with one member of the Tevatnoa’s crew and one shadowing RN officer. “It’s the creature from the Dunn Roven, sir. It’s looking for a soft spot to crack us open.”
Lewis nodded. “It’s on radar, we’ve got a fix on it.”
“Then you’ve seen it’s attacking from the starboard side,” Miller said. “The RN ship is on port. There’s no feasible way they could get off a clean shot. We must use the railgun system.”
“Our men have no experience with such a weapon,” Clark said.
“Let my men defend our ship, captain.” Lewis spoke into the mic through clenched teeth. When no immediate reply came, Lewis pressed the microphone button again. “Captain, do you copy?”
“Distress signal coming from the RN ship, captain,” said the guard beside the communications seaman.
All eyes inside the bridge looked out the observation window to the ship across the river. The Phalanx close-in weapons system on the RN ship fired a salvo off their starboard side. From the water, the tentacles of what looked like a giant squid were crawling up the hull.
Miller squinted into the distance and grimaced. It was easily four times the size of any giant squid he’d ever heard of.
In a matter of seconds the creature had skulked up the hull and was laying waste to the upper deck of the RN ship. One of its tentacles had gripped one of the cranes, tilting the ship sideways, while another grabbed a crew member and flung him wailing into the water.
“Bloody hell,” Clark breathed.
Lewis shouted into the receiver. “Weigh anchor, captain! Get out of here!”
Clark turned crimson all the way to the tips of her ears. “Why doesn’t he use the L7s?”
Just then the entirety of the Tevatnoa bucked like a bronco, shoving the occupants of the bridge to one side. Warning alerts and alarms sounded across the positioning and navigations stations, illuminating the central alarm console like a Christmas tree.
“We’ve taken damage below deck, commander,” announced one of the seamen. “Fusion reactor is offline.”
Miller grabbed the back of the captain’s chair for balance and glared at Clark. “We’re wasting time.”
Clark shot one more look at the RN ship. The tentacles of the squid had warped the crane and bent it backwards. “Go,” she said. “But if you damage my ship in the process, I’ll shoot you myself.”
“That’s a deal,” Lewis said. “Mr. Dermer, get me coordinates on thatwhale!”
“I think it’s more of a giant crocodile, sir,” replied the radar tech.
“Shut up,” said Lewis, then to Miller, “Get a squad to the observation deck, use whatever we have to keep it in position long enough to give the railgun a clean shot. And move fast, before we’re all sunk!”
Miller turned to his team and waved them out the bridge door, shouting over his shoulder, “Yes, sir!”
25
IT TOOK SAMANTHA and the Infected three weeks to repair the fire damage done to the fort. By the time the restoration was finished, and the forest fire had moved off to the east, a routine formed among the inhabitants.
Firewood was collected, food was distributed, warmer clothing and shoes were passed out. Living and sleeping arrangements were made. Away from their all-fungal diet, those affected the worst by the lichen improved. By the end of the first month, Samantha knew what was coming.
Snow had begun to fall in sheets, rising from an inch or two of powder to drifts a foot deep and climbing. It set people on edge. Fights broke out over blankets, socks, and shoes.
At Jan’s urging—the woman with dreads—the Infected gathered around a central fire pit in the largest of the log cabins in the hopes of discussing matters and setting rules. As Samantha suspected, it was a hotbed of shouting and near-riots within minutes.
“The humans will come back and attack!” someone bellowed.
“No, they won’t!”
“Most who escaped were women and children, and they probably died from exposure.”
“We have their weapons!”
“They don’t need weapons. All they need is a match.”
“Or a bow drill,” Samantha agreed. She crossed her legs and stared into the flames. As she listened to the shouting, she felt the anger and frustration building around her, filling the room like smoke.
“Let’s go back to the dairy farm,” Binh suggested. “There’s safety in numbers! They have plenty of food, and shelter. The brothers will welcome us back.”
Samantha shook her head. Thankfully, she didn’t have to speak; someone took the words right out of her mouth.
“It’s a cult,” another man spoke.
“If they hadn’t organized those raiding parties, we never would have been captured by the humans in the first place,” a woman said.
“It was because of that,” another man spoke, “we ended up here.”
Samantha found herself nodding. She wanted to bring up the numbness, the feelings of detachment and impassivity created at the dairy farm, but she felt eyes upon her and looked up across the fire.
Jan stared at her, her head tilted to one side, her mouth open as if she were about to speak. While the crowd debated, yelled, and tossed ideas and accusations across the room, the two women met eyes.
The two Bishops, Samantha realized. In a crowd of drones, they were the only two who could resist the crowd’s emotions.
“Where do we go?” the woman asked her.
“South,” Samantha suggested. “Someplace warmer?”
“But not too warm.”
Samantha nodded. With the planetary environmental shifts, it would be a handy trick to find someplace temperate. Samantha had spent so many months feeling cold; she’d forgotten the scorching, at times unbearable, heat that had blanketed New York City before its ultimate demise.
Perhaps they should stay at the fort? The cold wasn’t bad as long as they had control over it. There was still forest left to keep the campfires burning for a few months, maybe more. And when their resources dwindled, they could build another fort a few kilometers away in another part of the forest, just like the humans had begun to...
A chill ran up Samantha’s arms. She’d come full circle.
The humans knew where they were. They knew where to attack. They knew more about the fort than the Infected did. If the Infected grew complacent, they were doomed to repeat the same mistakes Samantha had seen at her first farm, and again at the dairy settlement. The best way to keep from in-fighting and violence was to stay on the move. A nomadic life, however uncomfortable, kept them active and distracted. It gave them purpose and drive. The more Samantha thought about it, the more she was certain.
She wasn’t sure Jan would agree, but the woman nodded nonetheless, as if sensing Samantha’s thoughts.
“There’s the transport trucks,” Jan said.
“Provided there’s enough fuel,” Sam added.
“To a town or a city, to start,” Jan suggested. “A few more creature comforts might still the beast.”
“I think we should head west,” Samantha said. “It will be rough for a bit. But once we pass the Bible Belt, there are more opportunities for open land.”
“Plenty of territories to explore,” Jan said.
“Exactly.”
They stood together. A ripple of silence quieted the room. All faces turned to Jan and Sam.
Sam shrugged and nodded at her new partner. “Seems we’ve been elected.”
A wry smile pursed Jan’s lips. “Bully for us.” Then, to the crowd she said, “Meeting adjourned. Everybody to their sleeping quarters. In the morning, we pack the vehicles and travel west.”
Around her, Sam saw perplexed expres
sions and heard murmurings of confusion, but the majority of the crowd quieted and filtered out toward their respective cabins.
Sam waited until the room was empty, then followed suit. She felt oddly optimistic at the prospect of travel. A life of adventure—isn’t that what she had always wanted?
She grinned softly to herself. Not really.
SAMANTHA PRESSED THE clutch with her left leg, then turned the key to the transport truck. To her delight the truck roared to life. Cheers from the hold made her smile. They’d been stuck at the fort all morning trying to find enough experienced drivers to handle the vehicles. Now that they were packed with supplies and people, it’d taken the better part of three hours fighting with the transmission of the old Army transport van. Kudos to Alex for insisting Sam learn how to handle a stick all those years ago.
Binh, sitting next to Samantha in the passenger seat, slapped his knee. “Take that, you nasty stick shift.”
Samantha laughed. After checking the mirrors for the umpteenth time, she slammed the truck into reverse and backed it out from behind the fort’s barn.
Jan stood at the gate, waving and guiding her through the opening. Sam was so focussed on the older woman’s silhouette in the side mirror, she didn’t notice Binh as he reached forward and twisted the dial on the radio.
Immediately, the cabin of the transport was filled with loud, grating static. Quickly, Binh reached over and twisted the other knob. To Samantha’s utter shock, she heard the voice of the President of the United States and immediately slammed on the brakes.
“My fellow Americans,” Fredericks said, sounding composed. “For years we have battled against the Archaean Parasite and those who would use it to usurp the freedom and safety of every American citizen. I thank those who fought and sacrificed so bravely to combat what was once believed to be an evil force of nature.
“But now, I call upon the people of this country to stop fighting. I have been brought into the light of the Archaean. Knowing and understanding more fully the peace and tranquillity of it, I urge all humans, be they on land or sea, to lay down their arms and present themselves to the nearest commune so we may be unified. A nation is more powerful as one mind, one family. Come with me into the light of understanding, and there will be peace.
“God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.”
“Holy shit,” Binh whispered.
All Samantha could do was gawk at the radio. From the driver’s side window, Jan appeared.
“What’s the hold up?” she barked. “You’re wasting fuel.”
On a loop, the radio fluttered with static for five seconds, then repeated the President’s message.
Samantha said nothing, watching Jan as she listened. There was a mix of revulsion, then pride, and then a disbelieving joy swirling across Jan’s face as the words sank in.
Afterwards, during the next five-second burst of static, Jan reached over the steering column, grasped the keys, and turned off the truck’s ignition. Moving off the step bar, she smacked the driver side door twice. “Everybody out!”
Binh frowned at Samantha. “What?”
Samantha pressed her lips together in a tight, thin line and snapped off her seat belt.
“Change of plans, I guess.”
26
MILLER ROTATED THE round spring-driven revolver-style magazine on his MGL Mk 1 grenade launcher, and shot six rounds into the water in rapid succession. To his left and right, Hsiung and Morland did the same.
From the opposite end of the Tevatnoa’s observation deck, du Trieux gripped the railing with one fist and held her binoculars in the other, eyes trained on the water on the starboard side.
The grenades detonated in the St. John’s River, and Miller stared at the water’s surface. If all went according to plan, the detonations would send shock waves around the port side, pushing the attacking sea creature to starboard, where the railgun could get a clean shot, away from the RN ship.
The Navy ship had fired their close-in weapons system at the giant squid, wounding it but apparently not killing it. After bending one of the freight cranes in half it had receded back into the depths of the river, hopefully to find easier prey.
But Miller doubted that was the end of the battle. Chancing a look over his shoulder, he shouted at du Trieux, “Anything?”
“Negative,” came her reply.
“Anything on radar?” he asked through his com.
“We see it,” Lewis answered. “But it’s too fast, and it keeps swimming under the ship. We can’t get a clean fix on it.”
Morland spoke up. “Is that supposed to happen?”
Hsiung grabbed another shell from the crate at their feet, then nodded toward the river. “Miller?”
Back out on the water, the corpses of fish and tusk-fiends—even a couple goliath-brutes—floated to the surface. “It’s the shock waves,” Miller explained, reloading. “Ready?”
Morland hitched his MK1 to his shoulder. “Ready.”
Another eighteen grenades detonated under the waves. More corpses rose, although fewer than before.
Miller looked over his shoulder. “Trix?”
“I’d tell you if it turned up,” she snapped.
“There!” Hsiung shouted.
Back on port side, the scaled tip of the creature’s fluke cut across the water’s surface, then disappeared into the green, murky river.
“Why is it over here?” Morland asked.
As if in answer, the beast reared up from the water and opened its cavernous snout, lined with jagged crocodilian teeth.
“Reload!” Miller shouted, already knowing it was too late.
The beast wrapped its jaws around the corpse of a goliath-brute, snapped down with an audible smack, and dragged the body underwater.
“Good God,” Morland gasped.
“Miller, what the hell is going on out there?” Lewis barked over the com.
“Sir, I think we’ve miscalculated,” Miller said, hurriedly reloading his grenade launcher. “Instead of driving the creature away, we’ve brought it port side to feed on the dead sea-life.”
“It’s a seafood buffet,” Hsiung said.
“Hit it again,” Lewis said. “If the blasts are killing the behemoths, it’s at least hurting the big one. Do it quick and don’t stop.”
“Yes, sir.”
Another eighteen rounds, another slew of dead animals. Miller didn’t bother to ask du Trieux if she saw anything on her side. The crate of ammunition was nearly empty.
In a gout of spray, the creature broke the surface, snatching a tusk-fiend a few meters off the port bow.
Miller heard a loud shot over his shoulder, and twisted to see Doyle, his rifle perched on a tripod. He crouched, his splinted leg sticking out in front of him, between two communications antennae on top of the bridge.
Lewis’s voice shouted over the com. “What the hell was that?”
Doyle answered, “Just tagged it with a tracking beacon right in the schnoz. That oughtta help.”
“Stand by, we’re searching for the signal,” Lewis said. After a moment he added, “It’s under the ship again.”
“Hold your fire,” Miller told his team.
Across the river, the RN ship had opened fire again, machine guns ripping up the water’s surface and puncturing the squid’s tentacles as it fought to regain a hold of the ship. The beast had wrapped itself around the stern, right at the well dock—if it broke in there, it could enter the cargo hold and attack the ship from within. After being hit with a few rounds, the squid released the boat and disappeared below the water again.
Miller saw the RN sailors on deck raise their arms in celebration.
“It’s on the move,” Lewis reported. “Coming to starboard. Ready the railgun.”
At the bow of the Tevatnoa, the railgun turret rotated and levelled, grinding with the strain. The support chains securing it aboard clanked and clattered, but held. The entire turret, from tip to deck, was covered in fungal blooms. I
t was a miracle it was moving at all.
“Automated load procedure complete,” a seaman spoke over the com. “Standing by.”
The ship suddenly jolted sideways; caught off-guard, every member of Cobalt jostled in position. On top of the bridge, Doyle toppled over, grabbing hold of one of the antennae to keep from sliding off the roof.
“Railgun off-line,” a seaman reported over the com.
Lewis swore. “Get it back up. Track the bogey.”
“Tracking signal lost, sir,” another seaman reported. “It must have knocked off the tracker when it hit the ship.”
“Smart sucker,” Hsiung commented.
The railgun turret, now slightly askew, cranked and turned, moving back into ready position under loud protest.
Back on his feet, Miller stared over the edge of the ship. “Anybody got eyes on this thing?”
Across the water, the RN’s CIWS popped off another fusillade. The massive squid had pulled itself back onto the upper deck and wrapped itself around the ship’s second crane.
“Target has breached!” du Trieux shouted from the starboard side.
“Railgun standing by.”
“Cobalt!” Lewis bellowed over the com. “Hit the deck.”
As Miller dropped to the observation deck floor he heard Lewis shout over the com. “Fire!”
The railgun rang like a church bell, and Miller lay on the deck and smiled at the sound of it. With an audible surge of electromagnetic power and a hypersonic crack, the huge slug shot down the center of the parallel rails at the sea creature.
Miller watched the starboard side for proof of impact and was greeted with the sight of hunks of flesh splattering through the air in all directions.
Du Trieux, hunkered on starboard side, was sprayed with water and blood. She cursed in French.
“Wahoo!” Morland cheered. “Meat chunks!”
Miller climbed back to his feet and gripped the railing for support. The entirety of the ship rocked with the aftershock. Down in the water, tiny waves slapped the side of the swaying ship, jostling the corpses of the dead marine-life. For a few seconds, the world was eerily silent.