Emergence

by William Vitka

  Caleb had told them everything from his private conversation with the ancient monster—except for the one piece of information that had finally broken him.

  Jack and Catarina responded to all of it with grudging acceptance.

  That the Hroza had followed their ancestry. That there were others who shared their traits. That the ancient things referred to them as emergent, like a new species, because they were special for their genes.

  Fine. That shit makes about as much sense as anything else.

  “I don’t know,” Jack says. “I really don’t. I’m not used to finding out that A: I’m some kind of genetically-gifted cosmic US Marshal. B: I’m related to huge monsters. C: I need to stop the destruction of my entire planet from another bunch of huge monsters. And we need to help this piece of shit who killed Patrick.” He nods at Three.

  Caleb hunches forward. Props his head up with his hands. He looks very much like a plain old, tired twelve-year-old boy—a boy he no longer is.

  No more teachers. No more classes. Never again.

  Jack says, “But we can’t just fart around down here. Three, how close are the Corrupted?”

  “Thirty-six hours. Perhaps a little less,” Three says.

  “Perhaps?”

  The Hroza let out a massive, exasperated sigh. “They are creatures the size of myself, flying through space using air bladders and wings. I do not know how much more precise I can be.” His big eyes stare at Jack. “When the Corrupted left this planet, they isolated themselves. They started blocking any attempts to communicate with them. They considered us ‘noise’ that got in the way of their quest. I cannot speak with them as I do my brothers. I can sense them, hear them as they move, but that is all.”

  “No offense, Three, but your family sucks,” Catarina says.

  Jack says, “Imagine the awkward Thanksgiving dinners.”

  Catarina chuckles.

  The two look to Caleb. They expect the boy to laugh with them. But he’s too far lost inside his head. Thinking. Forever thinking. He plays mental chess. Runs through scenarios. Develops ideas.

  Jack pops an American Spirit between his lips. “When are your brothers gonna get here?”

  “That, I can answer,” Three says. “They will be here in twenty-four hours. We will convene, and then, we will move.”

  Catarina says, “Move?”

  “Come to the surface. We do not have much time to establish a plan of defense. We need those precious hours above ground. My brothers and I will have to survey. Especially since we have not been to the surface in a very long time.”

  Catarina stifles a laugh. “That’s a hilariously terrible idea. You’re gonna cause complete pandemonium. Nobody’s seen or even thought of creatures like you before. Except, I dunno, Lovecraft. And you’re doing this in New York City. There are twelve million humans upstairs who will shit themselves at the sight of you. To say nothing of the people who might die because you need to survey. Or how much ordinance the military will bring down on the five boroughs in response.”

  “This is not open for discussion.” Three rubs his brow with a tentacle. “This is going to happen. My brothers and I will meet here. And then we will come to the surface. There is certainly nothing you can do to stop us. Humanity will have to...cope, as your kind is fond of saying.”

  Jack puts his hands up. “I can see it now.” He spreads them. Slow. Like a director describing the scene. He lowers his head. Starts talking like a movie trailer announcer. “In a world. Where everything blows ass. There stands a tentacled horror. Who isn’t taking ‘No’ for an answer.” He claps his hands together. “Bang. Cue shot of Three here rising from the ground in a leather jacket and a big sawed-off shotgun. He stares over the city. Shoots bad guys and/or eats them. Gets a tendril in Charlie Bronson’s corpse. Makes him walk around all pissed off. It’ll be great.”

  Catarina says, “Eat a dick. I’m serious.”

  Jack stops. He pulls the cigarette from his lips. Lets his arms hang at his side. “Sorry.” He shrugs. “My brain feels better if it’s a gag. That or I start killing things.”

  Caleb stirs. Without lifting his head, he says, “Three, Catarina’s right. You have to be sneaky. You can’t let anyone see you or your brothers. We can’t afford to let any police or military or government organizations get involved. Not yet. I don’t want them to know anything about what’s going on until it’s too late and the Corrupted are here. All the military’s gonna do is drop bombs. Kill civilians. But we’re gonna hit the Corrupted first. And we’re going to stop them. Before anybody realizes what’s going on.”

  He stands. “Don’t get me wrong. They’ll get a show.” He arches his back. Stretches. “They’ll see the fight. Would be impossible not to.” He grins at Jack and Catarina. Then at Three. “Everything that happens next happens on my terms.”

  The Hroza stares at Caleb. It waits. Breathes. Sizes the boy up. “We will do as you ask. We will be snee-kee.”

  “Just like you did in the old days. Stay out of sight.”

  Catarina says, “Look who’s got a pet monster.”

  “Yep,” Jack says. “Question is: Does he have a plan?”

  Caleb smirks. “We need to get back to the surface.”

  They glance at the collapsed rock cavern where the pale things got unceremoniously roasted.

  Catarina says, “Not getting out through there. Three?”

  “I can help you,” the Hroza says. “But you will not like it.”

  Jack says, “What about you have we liked?”

  A mass of slimy ropes crawl up the cliff edge at their feet. They’re long, thin, and black. The same writhing wretchedness Three has utilized for his entire life to plug into the skulls of humans who then end up as either periscopes or snacks.

  Jack says, “You’re gonna carry us up with those, right?”

  “Yes,” Three says.

  “Into the sewers you use to poke around?”

  “Yes.”

  “I hate you so much.”

  “I am aware, gunslinger.”

  Three’s feeder tendrils ooze around the Tribe. Cover their feet and then their legs.

  Catarina wants to hack away at the horrid things with her machete. She controls that urge. She’s disgusted, but she allows them to continue up to her waist and then her chest. “I do not goddamn like this.”

  Jack says, “Join the club.”

  The stinky, coiled blanket covers them. They’re lifted in darkness. Fast. They travel high up, above his burrow. Then they’re pushed into a broken sewer pipe.

  Caleb dips his hands in the repulsive slurry around them. Then, not finding what he was after, he leans out through the pipe’s broken side. He shouts to Three: “We need our bags.”

  More ropes creep up. They deposit their packs.

  “Thank you,” Caleb shouts.

  Jack says, “Oh, he seems like such a nice boy.”

  Catarina says, “At least he gave us our stuff.”

  Jack makes a dismissive grunt.

  They sling their bags over their shoulders. Crawl back through the shit. The sludge. They don’t know what to tell their parents. They don’t know what to do above ground.

  They have no idea what’s going to happen next.

  Chapter 28: Back in Black

  They could be mistaken for comets, especially with their glow. Five titans. They Drift. Pump. Push themselves along on dark wings.

  But there’s something even Three doesn’t know: There aren’t five Corrupted.

  There are six.

  And the sixth’s name is Litost.

  The Corrupted all know that their Earth-buried kin will hear them. Know that their Earth-buried kin will be expecting them. But their Earth-buried kin will never see Litost coming. Never hear him.

  Litost was born in the black. And he’s even further divorced from them than the other Corrupted. He’s the first of his kind. A new breed. Undetectable.

  The bastard creature, Three, knows there are five Corrupted
, sure. But he has no idea what they’ve become. What they’ve produced.

  Litost will arrive on Earth before the rest. He will initiate the chaos. Soften the enemy’s defenses. And then they will begin the cleansing.

  Cull the herd.

  They will take their rightful place.

  * * *

  When Litost lands, it’s just after eight o’clock at night. Around the time Jack and Caleb and Catarina emerge from the muck in Brooklyn. Around the time millions of New Yorkers head to and from the city.

  Anyone crossing the Tappan Zee Bridge could have seen it. They should scream and panic. But they don’t know what they’re looking at.

  The strange black thing careens toward the Earth without noise.

  People talk about its silence. How it makes no sound. It doesn’t burn up, either. It’s just an enormous mass of some kind that comes diving down into the Hudson River outside Rockland County.

  It’s a dinner conversation piece. A weird tale folks tell their friends about. On the eleven o’clock broadcasts, local news anchors make it their kitschy/weird/human interest story that gets chuckles on camera. Because they’re goddamn fools. They supplement it with eyewitness accounts and a shaky cell phone video of the tremendous splashing impact.

  Probably falling space debris. A satellite whose orbit went bad. Or something. NASA swears they detected no such object.

  Litost moves downstream. Fast. He pushes himself through the water.

  He burrows under the Bayonne Golf Club in New Jersey. This, Litost determines, is the prime location to be in. Far enough from Three and the filthy apes to avoid detection, but close enough—six miles through the water from Bay Ridge—to put his plan in motion.

  Litost considers it. He’ll cross through the Hudson. Come up under those disgusting mammals. Kill or emotionally break them. Retreat. Strike. Hide. Strike. Hide. A hit-and-run tactic.

  He intends to have a great fuckin time.

  Chapter 29: Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jog

  Jack, Caleb and Catarina stumble through the front door of the Svoboda house just before eight-thirty at night. They’re bloody. Tired. Angry. But also excited.

  Dierdra, Viktor and Elie gasp as the three enter the room. Their eyes grow wide with horror. Narrow again. The parents observe the children with a mixture of grief and joy.

  Viktor picks Caleb up. Hoists the boy with an excited bear hug.

  “Dad,” Caleb says as his father squeezes the air from him. “Ease off just a little.”

  Jack says, “We don’t have much time. There’s a lot of explaining to do.”

  Dierdra pinches her nose. “Holy crap, you guys stink.”

  Caleb tugs on Viktor’s jeans. “A lot of bad is going to come down here in thirty-six hours.” Then he turns to Elie. “I need both of you to start thinking really quickly.”

  “Shoot,” Elie says.

  Viktor says, “Whatever we can do to help. Just don’t keep us in the dark.”

  A nervous chuckle escapes Dierdra’s lips. “There’s one other thing.” She points beyond the kitchen into the living room.

  There wait the Dajanis. Benham, Afshan, little Akil, and Zarifa.

  Caleb’s heart flutters.

  Dierdra says, “They came to see how you guys were holding up. And to thank you for getting their kids back safely Halloween night.”

  Caleb looks at his feet.

  Jack taps his bloodied younger brother. Rests a reassuring hand on the back of the boy’s neck. Steps forward as an emissary. He tells the Dajanis, “Thank you for having such strong children.” He shakes Benham’s hand. “Uh, sorry about the smell. Been a weird day.”

  Catarina works as his counterpart. “We wouldn’t have made it if it hadn’t been for Akil’s and Zarifa’s bravery.” She shakes Afshan’s hand. “But, yeah, we really need to get cleaned up.”

  The Dajanis look proud. And not a little nervous, given the Tribe’s physical condition.

  Jack takes a knee before Akil. “You still as brave as you were?”

  Akil nods. Whatever toll Halloween night had taken, the child seems to have either recovered or repressed the horrors.

  Jack says, “Well then, I think we promised you some quality video game time. What say we kill some monsters online after we change?”

  “Bet I can kill more than you,” Akil says.

  “You’re on little man.”

  Jack glances at Caleb. You explain, I entertain.

  Caleb nods back.

  Akil ambles up to the Xbox and thumbs it on.

  Before Caleb can utter a word about what had transpired with Three underground, Zarifa pushes her parents aside and stares him down. “Hello, Caleb.”

  * * *

  Thirty-five-ish hours until the Corrupted arrive and twelve-year-old Caleb is having girl troubles. All of it serious and adult. Even though twelve-year-old voices speak the words.

  Caleb says, “We share certain genes with it, and that makes us special.”

  Zarifa licks her lips and cocks an eye. “Makes you special like how? Short-bus special? Because dumb is all I’m hearing right now.”

  “I don’t know. We can just do some stuff better than most people can. I can think better. Jack can shoot better. Catarina can fight better and make it so the monster doesn’t kill our brains when it talks to us.”

  Jack and Catarina are downstairs, having a ball murderizing digital monsters with Akil. The parents are all conferring in the kitchen. And Caleb’s stuck upstairs in his room trying to explain the insanity of everything to a girl he’s quickly losing the desire to kiss.

  Caleb rubs his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. You’re as smart as I am. You must be able to follow some of what I’m saying. Just a little bit.”

  “Ancient monster has genes you share because all living things share certain aspects of their biology. That part I get. Because it’s true. But, in sharing those genes, you’re granted abilities humans don’t have? Then, yeah, okay, you’ve got to save the world. Or whatever.”

  Caleb shrugs. “Pretty much.”

  “Really? Really?” Zarifa crosses her arms.

  “What do you want from me? I’ve seen the monster. I know it exists. It’s talked to me. Told me things.”

  “Oh, it told you things.”

  Caleb glares at her.

  Zarifa gets up. “Screw this weirdness.” She stomps to Caleb’s door.

  Caleb stops her just shy of the knob. “In thirty-five hours or so, make sure you guys are in a basement.”

  Zarifa laughs. “Why? Did your telepathic old monster give you the inside scoop on the end of the world?” She storms downstairs.

  Caleb shouts after her, “Well... Yeah! Y’know what? He did!”

  He hears Jack mutter something along the lines of “That ain’t good.” Then he hears the video game pause. A stamping of feet. Another smattering of voices and then the slamming of the front door.

  Jack looks up from the bottom of the stairs. “You all right?”

  “What do you think?” Caleb screams back.

  * * *

  Caleb explains everything. He checks his brain. Makes sure the facts and logic are right. He hesitates. His speech falters because he can’t shake Zarifa and their argument from his mind.

  Six of the Tribe sit in the kitchen.

  Viktor makes good headway on his second Czech Rebel. Dierdra is halfway through her first. Elie sips from a tumbler of whiskey. Caleb drinks hot chocolate. Jack and Catarina share a glass of whiskey and a bottle of beer, which serves largely as a chaser.

  Jack refills his glass with Jameson and lights a cigarette.

  Dierdra shoots him a disapproving look.

  He arches his eyebrows. Pulls down his shirt to show her the wound on his shoulder. He kicks his leg up. Yanks back the cuff of his jeans to show her the clotted mess the parasite made of his calf. “I’m pretty sure I’ve earned a smoke.”

  It could come off as a joke, but the new Jack is being an asshole.
>
  Catarina frowns.

  He lowers his leg.

  Viktor slams his fist on the table. “Do not treat your mother that way. Not while I’m breathing. You kids have seen some crazy shit. Nobody’s denying that. You’re a big guy with your gun. But you will not disrespect her. Are we clear?”

  Jack, shamed, lowers his head. “Yes.” Then to his mother, “I’m sorry.”

  Caleb shakes off a shudder of alarm.

  Dierdra speaks in a whisper. “It’s all right.” She grimaces.

  Viktor puts his head in his hands. “We’re at thirty-four hours now?” He scratches his scalp. “Thirty-four hours until the ‘bad’ version of your monster comes down and tries to destroy us.”

  Caleb takes a sip of hot chocolate. Clears his throat like a diplomat at the UN. He tries very hard to construct the words in just the right way, but is only able to come up with, “Yeah.”

  Jack mutters. “Well-said, Napoleon.”

  Caleb scrunches his face in annoyance. He’s tired. Everyone here is just going to have to understand that. “If you put us on some kind of graph or chart, Three and his brothers are like chaotic neutral. They don’t really care about humans per se, but we’re useful and I guess they need us in some capacity? The ones who went nuts in space are chaotic evil. The three of us—” he points to Jack, then Catarina, then himself “—are chaotic good.”

  “We’ve been forced into this situation,” Catarina says. She sips some whiskey. “We’re ‘good’ by happenstance.”

  Elie says, “That’s all well and, uh, good. But, what do you need from us?” He’s very tempted to light a cigarette. The stress of the situation makes him miss nicotine.

  Caleb says, “This is going to sound weird, but I need you guys to make some kind of frequency modulator-amplifier-scrambler thingy.”

  Viktor and Elie look to each other. After a minute, they start to laugh.

  Caleb’s face flushes red.

  Viktor reaches a hand out and pats his youngest son on the shoulder. “Don’t be embarrassed. That’s just kind of... Why don’t you tell us what this thing you want us to make is supposed to do.”

  “Mimic the energy signatures that the Corrupted were chasing.”