by Kyle West
Ashton took a moment to think about it. “I don’t think there’s a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out of this alive. I deserve a bullet. I could have stopped this. I could have told people what was out there, publicized those files.” He shook his head. “I was too chicken shit, though. I let them get to me.” He hung his head.
To Samuel, seeing a man give up all will to live, or to even save others, was the saddest of sights. Would he do the same, if he lost Violet and the kids?
“Get it together, Doctor. Find your redemption or die trying to get it. If you just save my family, then you can make up for it. At least a bit.”
Then you can die after, if that’s what you really want. Samuel kept the thought to himself, though.
Ashton gave a bitter smile. “Don’t imagine I’m much good shooting this thing.” He looked at Samuel’s M5. “I hope your aim is better than mine, son. Let’s go.”
Chapter 7
THEY WAITED FOR THE right opportunity and exited into the corridor. Samuel keyed open the closet, and his family piled out, blinking drearily. Violet threw herself on him.
“Daddy,” Makara said, reaching for him tearfully.
“This is Dr. Ashton,” he said. “He’ll take us to the hangar.”
Ashton was already jogging up ahead. Samuel urged his family to follow.
Already, clicking filled the air. The sound was coming from everywhere. They passed an intersection, and down either hallway were dead bodies and roving crawlers. They scuttled after the fleeing family to the hangar. They were halfway there.
Samuel fired a few shots before the magazine ran out, scoring a hit on the lead crawler. But two more were coming up from behind, and more still from the hallway by Ashton’s office.
“Go, go!” Ashton called, who was already by the doors.
The Neths ran harder and were nearly there. Samuel noticed his wife lagging; Makara must have been getting too heavy for her to carry. He cast aside the gun, useless without ammo, and took his daughter from his wife’s hands.
He let her go on ahead, running through the now open doors, through which they could see the massive hangar with its large, metallic ceiling doors. Inside the massive space, a small crowd was milling about, some of them shouting for the doors to be shut. Samuel himself hurried through just as the doors were closing.
The crawlers slammed into the doors’ other side while the family and Ashton rushed forward.
“Bay doors are closed, still,” Ashton said, looking up. “Should be able to open them from aboard Odin.” He scowled. “Given that there’s enough juice to move them.”
Samuel now noticed the orbital spaceship in the center of the hangar. During the Dark Decade, which had lasted from 2020-2030, the United States had publicized almost all its secret research, collaborating with private business. This ship, along with several others housed at Bunker Six, were the product of the country’s desperate innovation.
The ship’s design was roughshod, not sleek like the old movies Samuel liked to watch. It was powered by a miniature fusion core developed toward the end of the Dark Decade, powerful enough to fuel the thrusters underside and aft of each vessel. Retractable wings made the ship viable for atmospheric operations, though each ship had the capability of going into space for orbital maneuvers.
The ships were rarely used, but always well-maintained.
People were running up to Ashton now, many crying tears of gratitude. Ashton was blind to it all.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” he said.
The Neths followed Ashton to Odin’s boarding ramp, several security officers parting to let the doctor through.
“I need a minute to get things ready,” he said.
Ashton entered alone, and after half a minute, the sound of Odin’s engines powering on filled the hangar. Samuel felt its reverberation to his very bones. Both of his kids looked at the ship with awe. Only the highest security clearances had access to the hangar, so this was the first time any of them had ever laid eyes on the ship.
The security officers were now allowing people to board, but before doing so, they checked their passes. Surely, after all they had gone through, Samuel and his family wouldn’t be turned away. They had come in with Ashton, after all. All the same, Samuel watched the others nervously, noticing that most of them wore the nicer clothing of the Bunker’s upper reaches. All of them had the look of Admin on them, or scientists. He recognized a couple of councilors and their families.
The Neths approached last of all, the sound of crawler shrieks piercing through the metal hangar doors.
“Passes?” the officer asked.
“We don’t have them,” Samuel lied. He had a feeling showing the officer his worker level pass might not get him on board.
“No problem. It’s been crazy. Name?”
Samuel couldn’t lie about that. “Samuel Neth.”
The officer pressed a few buttons on his tablet, frowning after a moment. “Samuel Neth, from Agriculture? And your wife, Violet, from Inventory?”
There was no use denying it. “That’s right.”
The officer exchanged a glance with his comrade, before turning back to Samuel. “I’m sorry, Mr. Neth. I can’t let you on board. It’s Priority A individuals and their families only.”
Samuel’s face reddened. “Priority A? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m sorry, sir. These are orders from Command. They can’t be counteracted.”
“I want to speak to Dr. Ashton,” Samuel said. “He brought us here. Who’s your commanding officer?”
The guard, a youth not even ten years older than Samuel Jr., looked at him nervously. “Captain Dulaney, Mr. Neth.”
“Call him up,” Samuel said. “Ask his permission.”
“Sir, this goes up to General Meyer. I can’t disobey a direct order, sir.”
This was beyond belief. Samuel took a deep breath to remain calm. “All order, in case you haven’t noticed, has broken down. Your commanding officer and General Meyer are probably dead. My family and I have been through hell to get here, and if a little twerp like you says I can’t get on board, then I’ll make a way on board.”
Samuel knew he shouldn’t berate the kid, but he was so keyed up from the past two hours that he couldn’t help it. If the reason he and his family couldn’t board was bureaucracy, he was going to murder someone.
Violet touched his arm, to calm him down. “Is there anything to be done, Officer? What can we do to get permission to go on board? Is talking to Dr. Ashton enough?”
“I’m afraid not,” the other officer said.
“Officer,” a new man said, approaching from behind. Apparently, more people had filtered in, from the entrance opposite of where the Neths had come in. “We are Priority A evacuees.”
“What is this bullshit?” Samuel asked. “What does Priority A mean?”
The new arrival blinked from behind his glasses, greatly alarmed. “You haven’t heard the announcement?”
“What announcement?” Violet asked.
“They’re bottom-dwellers,” the second officer explained. He seemed to forget the Neths were even there.
“Ah,” the man said, as if that made sense. “Guess they didn’t make the announcement down there.”
Why could that be? As Samuel thought about it, everything clicked in an instant. The government hadn’t announced an evacuation for the bottom levels. They had planned to let them die, to be bait while the higher levels got away.
Samuel felt a fury such as he had never known. He clenched his fist, and with a roar, punched the second officer, the one who’d called them bottom-dwellers, right in the face before he even knew what was happening.
“Samuel, no!” Violet screamed.
He was on top of him. It was all too much. He landed one more punch before the other officer pulled him off.
“Sir, stand down, now. That’s an order!”
Samuel was overpowered. Another couple of officers, seeing the commotio
n, helped to pull him off.
The second officer got up and wiped his nose, which was bleeding. Whatever hope Samuel had of getting his family on board Odin was completely gone, now.
The bespectacled man looked at Samuel derisively. “You bottom-dwellers are all the same. All passion, no intellect. That’s why you’re down there, and we’re up here.”
“Sir, don’t antagonize him,” the first officer said. The second one had retreated, another officer helping him to clean his nose. “I’m afraid you and your family have to move along, now.”
“Move along where? You would send us out there to die?”
The man with glasses was waved on board, and he went hurriedly.
“Join the evacuation for the general population, Mr. Neth,” the officer said. “The ship is for Priority A individuals and their families only.”
“Get on, kids,” Samuel said.
But the officers stood, barring their way. All of them had M5s.
There was absolutely nothing to be done. Samuel glanced over at the cockpit, waving toward it, but it didn’t seem to be doing any good. Ashton would be busy prepping the ship for takeoff. He had probably completely forgotten about the Neths by now. Makara was crying, while Samuel Jr. looked as angry as his father.
“You know Dr. Ashton wouldn’t even be here if not for us,” Samuel said.
“Where is the general evacuation?” Violet asked, finally.
“The runway,” the officer said. “Last I heard there were a few copters left.”
Samuel stared hard at the young man, who looked at him without pity.
“Your general is a bastard, and you’re even worse,” Samuel said. “You go to hell. I hope this haunts you for the rest of your miserable life.”
The Neths turned to leave, leaving the officers in silence to guard an empty hangar and a half-empty spaceship.
Chapter 8
THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE to do. They ran.
The Neths exited the hangar on the north side and were back into the chaos they had just left. Here, things were more controlled. Security officers had formed something of a perimeter. It became clear there weren’t many “bottom dwellers”, but mostly middle-tier families that had been worth giving an announcement for. Here, however, it didn’t seem as if they would be asking for identification.
The Neths joined the stream onto the tarmac, one among several hundred scared, panicked people. Snow fell in droves, and the night was horribly cold. Despite the situation, Samuel marveled at the vast amount of space, while his children gazed at the snow in wonder.
It was the first time either of them had been outside.
Samuel could hear the collective roar of rotors in the distance. Streetlights flooded the runway, illumining a crowd all pressing as a single organism toward the two remaining copters that had just landed.
There was no way the Neths would get there in time.
“We should go back,” Samuel Jr. suggested.
That would be impossible. Ashton had the keycard to the hangar, and if those officers were guarding the ship, they wouldn’t be let on board. Security was known for being fanatically loyal to authority, no matter how senseless or cruel the order.
The somewhat orderly press of people became panicked as several screeches filled the air. Dozens of crawlers materialized from the darkness at the side of the runway, pushing forward in an unrelenting wave. The people screamed and pressed in closer like sheep before wolves. Half ran back to the Bunker, while the other half, closer to the copters, pressed toward their only lifeline.
The Neths ran toward the copters, despite their relative proximity to the Bunker. Samuel knew there was no hope back there. He held his wife’s hand and carried Makara with his other arm. Samuel Jr. ran on ahead, his smaller size allowing him to weave through the crowd with ease. Samuel let him go, wanting to give him the greatest chance of escape.
Already, the crawlers were cutting the Bunker off from the runway, and people were falling. Screams filled the air as the crawlers’ mandibles tore at their prey. Security was no help. Half of them were running rather than shooting at the teeming mass of monsters.
“Go, Violet, go!”
“Samuel!”
He was running too fast, and his poor wife, fatigued as she was, could hardly keep up. He slowed down for her sake.
But then, Makara screamed.
“Panda!”
Her bear had fallen several feet behind them. Its long, sad face was lost to the violence of the crowd’s stomping feet.
“Violet, no!”
His wife had disappeared. She had knelt to pick up the plush, and Samuel waited anxiously for her to reemerge. She never did. People ran her right over, and she couldn’t get up. Samuel tried to get to her, but the press of the crowd was too great. He heard his wife’s screams, even above the din of the crowd and shrieking crawlers.
“Violet!” he cried. “Violet!”
The crowd had pushed him past the point of no return, with a gravity he couldn’t escape.
Makara wailed. “Mommy! Mommy, get up. Mommy, please. Why won’t she get up, Daddy? You’re leaving her, why are you leaving Mommy behind?”
Makara’s tears soaked Samuel’s shirt. Samuel whimpered as dread clutched him. He had said he would protect her. He had failed. His wife was gone, the love of his life. One minute, alive, and in the next, dying.
The crawlers were closing in like a noose, the outer fringes of the crowd screaming as they were assaulted. The crush of people was beginning to take Samuel’s breath away.
“Daddy, I can’t breathe . . .”
Samuel couldn’t breathe, either, but the copter was close now. The drone of the rotors drowned out all else. Samuel knew he was going to die, the realization hitting him like a hammer. He was going to die, just as his wife was surely dead or dying right now. He didn’t know where Samuel Jr. was. He could only hope he had gotten on one of the copters.
So long as Samuel lived, he would do everything in his power to save his daughter. She was all he had, now.
He lifted Makara high into the air, and summoning strength from he knew not where, pushed onward. He pushed forward, even as others were crushed underneath him, just as his wife had been. He felt hands grabbing at his shins, like souls reaching from the river of the dead.
“Daddy,” he heard Makara screaming, tearfully. “I’m scared. Daddy . . .”
A sob escaped his throat. The crawlers were just fifty feet or so behind. They had long passed where his wife would have been. He was too short to see into the helicopter, but he heard the crowd clamoring to be let on.
Samuel, at last, sucked in another breath, his arms on fire from holding his daughter so high.
“Daddy,” she said. “They aren’t letting the people on. There’s no space in there.”
Samuel didn’t care. He pushed forward again, the violent shrieking and chomping behind him enough motivation to keep going. The helicopter was lifting off.
“No,” he said. “Please, God, no . . .”
Makara was reaching into the sky. The helicopter slowed.
“The girl,” he heard a voice shout from above through a loudspeaker. “Pass up the girl!”
Samuel stretched up his arms as much as he could. For a moment, there was silence, as if the crowd collectively realized what it must do. Other hands joined his, pushing Makara higher.
A soldier reached down and pulled her up and away. Makara, his angel, was ascending into heaven.
Samuel lowered his arms, feeling numb, as the helicopter lifted into the sky, soon lost to the snowy darkness. There were still screams, but it was mostly quiet, as if all recognized their fate and had embraced it. All was silent, save for the slicing and dicing of the crawlers, the whipping of their tails, and the dying screams of those on the outside. He felt the people around him shaking, heard them muttering prayers, smelt the acrid tinge of urine in the cold mountain air.
All he could do was hope Samuel had made it, somehow, some way. Makara for su
re was out of this horrible place. Little Makara. He closed his eyes, mouthing a prayer for her safety. Her story wasn’t over yet, but her life was still holding on by a thread.
If there was a God, he needed to watch over her. Samuel had given everything to save his daughter. But at least there was hope that she might live wherever that helicopter was taking her.
Soon, Samuel would be joining Violet in whatever afterlife awaited them.
Samuel’s eyes opened to meet those of a scared teenager. In those eyes he saw his daughter a few years down the road. She became his daughter in his mind. She was crying.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’ll be over soon. You’re not alone.”
She sobbed and closed her eyes.
All around, the people took each other’s hands. One by one, death found them.
Chapter 9
“GET A LOOK AT THAT, Raine.”
Raine Rogers gazed out across the barren field, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses.
“Almost hit the interstate,” he said gruffly.
“Who is it, you think?”
Raine shrugged. “Doesn’t matter who it is. Haven’t seen a flying copter since the Chaos Years.”
Captain Dan Green watched from beside Raine, shading his eyes. The tall man wore dusty military fatigues, with the badge of his office on his chest, though it had no official place in this new world. Raine was of middling height, with skin of onyx rippled tight with muscle, with close cropped hair and a face so hardened it seemed to be chiseled from granite.
From a safe distance, the copter lay on its side like a dead wasp. The crash must have been controlled, because there were no fires. Not yet, anyway.
“Round up the men,” Raine finally said. “There might be salvage. And survivors.”
Dan looked doubtful of that last bit, but he wasn’t about to argue with Raine. Almost two decades after the fall of Ragnarok, useful scrap was becoming rarer and rarer.
As Dan radioed in the order, calling for backup, Raine held out his hand. Dan passed over the binocs.