Emergence

by William Vitka

  Caleb bites his lips. Frowns.

  Jack rolls his head. Rubs his neck. “If any of us can figure this out, if any of us can come up with a plan or an idea to stop these evil bastards, you can.”

  Caleb pouts. “I can’t think, Jack. I can’t. Mom and Dad—”

  “Are gone,” Jack says. He pulls Caleb down. Forces his brother to sit on the floor with him. “Mom and Dad are gone. And we need to keep going. That’s just how it is. Okay?”

  Caleb stares at the ground. Nods in a dreamy way. He yanks his hands away from Jack and screws them into his eyes.

  It isn’t fair. None of this is fair.

  That’s where the twelve-year-old’s head is stuck.

  Jack says, “I know it seems like this is it. I know it seems like you can’t go on. But we have to. For ourselves. For Mom. For Dad.

  “Imagine you and me, in some far-flung future. Happy. Maybe we’ll even find aliens or go into space. Given all that’s happened, imagine what we can do. Just think of it. We can do anything.

  “But we can’t let those things win. We can’t let them take over. We lost Patrick and Mom and Dad to those things. Imagine how much torment others will feel if we give. Or bury our heads in the sand.

  “Do not go gentle.”

  The two lock eyes.

  Caleb makes a fist. “Do not go gentle.”

  * * *

  Caleb is a whirling dervish.

  The kitchen becomes a military headquarters.

  The front of the fridge—which had once housed Caleb’s scholarly accomplishments—now has Google Maps printouts showing possible landing zones for the Corrupted.

  The table is laid out with a massive, taped-together map of Bay Ridge. Circles drawn in marker represent where any of the four remaining Tribe should be at a given time. The Tribe members, in turn, are represented by figurines from Caleb’s toy collection.

  Jack says, “I want to be Wolverine.”

  Caleb says, “Wha—I don’t have a Wolverine. Why would I have a Wolverine?”

  “I had a Wolverine.”

  “Mom tossed your toys. Never got into the X-Men thing myself. Sorry.”

  “You should be. What else you got?”

  Caleb rifles through a giant blue plastic bin Elie brought from his bedroom upstairs. “Uh...I dunno. What the hell are you looking for, anyway?”

  “Something cool.”

  “I have a die-cast X-Wing. X-Wings are cool.”

  “Star Wars is lame. Your toys are lame.”

  “Holy shit, I’ll be the X-Wing,” Catarina says. “You guys are lame.”

  “Your face is lame,” Jack counters.

  Caleb pulls out a pink My Little Pony. “You’re gonna be this.”

  “Why am I a My Little Pony? Why do you even have a My Little Pony?”

  “I think Zarifa left it here? Can’t remember. I’m not a goddamn ‘Brony’ if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Guys,” Elie says. “Focus.”

  Catarina is the X-Wing. Caleb is an Albert Einstein bobble-head. Elie is a Bugs Bunny figure. Jack is the stupid fuckin pink My Little Pony.

  Caleb gathers the figures on the circle that marks the Svoboda house on the map. “Okay.” He spreads his hands over the table. “Three and his brothers are counting on the Corrupted coming down on top of us.” He taps the house on the map. “But I don’t think they expected this lone asshole. The thing that calls itself Litost. The one that took Mom and Dad. It’s different from the other Corrupted. I don’t know how just yet but it’s...new.” Caleb clears his throat. “It’s gotta be a more evolved version of the Corrupted, since I don’t think even Three was aware it was coming.”

  Elie says, “Couldn’t this Three jerk have lied to you? Or had the new Corrupted sneak up on us to kill us?”

  “Logic says no. We’re no good to Three dead. If we’re a distraction, then a dead distraction doesn’t do much for him. Which means Litost is special. Somehow. The other five Corrupted? I think Three and his shithead kin can take care of those. Monster fight in the Hudson.” Caleb raises his hands. Makes them claws. Rawr. “Litost is something else, though. He came here early to screw up whatever resistance Three had planned.”

  “Us,” Jack says.

  “Yeah. Litost came ahead of the others. He wants us out of the way.”

  Catarina says, “Litost was born in space?”

  Caleb says, “I think so.”

  “So he’s got parents. And you’re sure he’s a he?”

  “I’m pretty sure Litost is male. Did you hear those things he made my mom say? I don’t think women can be that evil.”

  Jack rolls his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere near that.”

  Caleb looks confused. “Anyway, I guess he must have parents.”

  Catarina punches Jack in the shoulder. Says, “So, Litost has to have a mom and a dad.”

  Caleb puffs his cheeks. Uhhh... Sure, why not. “The Hroza and Corrupted seem to be a mix of crustacean, cephalopod and arachnid and some mammal. But yeah, all those classes have different sexes.”

  Catarina twirls her finger. Come on. Do you see where I’m going?

  Caleb smacks his forehead with a palm. “Ahhh. Shit.”

  Jack says, “Shit what? Shit what?”

  “Three said he and his brothers were like living libraries.”

  “So?”

  “His ‘brothers’ dude. They’re monks. They don’t reproduce. They don’t screw. And they’re all boys. They’re just gonna keep on being monks till the end of time. They have no drive to do anything else.”

  Jack flaps his hands in the air. “So?!”

  Catarina says, “Jesus, Jack. That means at least one of the things coming down here is gonna be female. And the females of certain species—like the ones the Hroza hail from—tend to be a lot bigger and angrier than their male kin. And you know what else the female species are good at doing? Reproducing.”

  Jack leans back for a moment. The realization dawns on him. “Ah... Shit.”

  “There’s a big bad momma Corrupted coming,” Elie says.

  Caleb says, “Looks that way.”

  Jack rolls a cancer stick between his thumb and forefinger for a moment. “Man, she’s gonna be pissed when she learns I killed her kid.”

  Caleb and Catarina shoot him a look.

  Jack smiles. He pats the Colt on his hip. Holds up a finger. Wait, my story gets better. He smiles again. More devilish this time. He picks up the chainsaw. “I gots me an idea.”

  * * *

  They pile into the Charger. Jack behind the wheel. Caleb next to him in the passenger seat. Catarina and Elie in the back.

  They keep the plan loose. Leave enough room for improvisation.

  They know Litost can track them. Ping them like sonar with his weird quantum radio. They also know that in about three hours, the rest of Litost’s kin and that big bad momma will come crashing from the sky. Right on top of them. They know the other Hroza are using them as bait, planning to emerge only once the family of Corrupted arrive. The Hroza want to surprise and surround.

  None of these creatures give half a shit about humanity or the Tribe. Jack, Caleb, Catarina and Elie are tools to one and despised by the other. The monsters have to die.

  The solution as to “how” is at least entertaining, as are most of Jack’s ideas. The only frightening aspect of it all is that the Tribe has to split up.

  Elie’s supposed to make a lot of noise at the Fort Hamilton Army Base. Call in a fake terror threat at the Verrazano bridge. Mobilize the troops.

  Caleb and Catarina are going to head back underground toward Three and his brothers. The whole damn family should be there by now. Or soon, anyway. Caleb’s going to make contact. Start an argument. Catarina’s going to provide protection in the event local wildlife get a taste for humans.

  The point of this trip is simple: If the Hroza are going to use the Tribe to bait the Corrupted into landing in a specific place, the Tribe are going to flip that around and
bring the Corrupted down right on top of the Hroza.

  Jack... Well, he’s hoping he gets eaten by Litost.

  The rest is up in the air.

  They drop Elie off a couple blocks from the base. He hides his shotgun inside a nearby garbage can, barrel up. “Let’s all try to stay alive.”

  He leans in through the Charger’s side window. Hugs Catarina.

  Then he’s gone. Walking down Fort Hamilton toward the base at 101st Street.

  Catarina hits the back of Jack’s seat. Her voice is monotone. “Drive.”

  Jack does. To a discrete manhole cover on Shore Road that Caleb’s sure will lead to pipes above Three’s burrow. Jack pulls over to the side and hits the Charger’s hazard lights. He steps out of the car. Opens Catarina’s door like a chauffeur. “To your impending doom, madam.”

  She curtsies. “Why thank you, sir.” She walks around to the trunk. She and Caleb grab their gear.

  Catarina cinches the straps of her pack. “It’d be cliché to kiss,” she says to Jack. “But we probably should.”

  “Yeah,” Jack says. “Prolly should.”

  They do. Quick, but hard. Passionate.

  Caleb sighs at their romantic display. He concludes that the whole love endeavor is dumb as hell, but all the same, he misses Zarifa.

  Jack jumps back into the driver’s seat.

  Catarina says, “Try not to die.”

  Jack feigns annoyance. “Yes, dear.” He says to Caleb, “You think this is gonna work?”

  Caleb shrugs. “No fuckin idea.”

  Jack nods. Then, like Elie, he’s gone.

  Caleb pokes Catarina’s side. “You ready?”

  She hefts her machete. “Nope. You?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good. We’re on the same page then.”

  They pull back the manhole cover and descend.

  Chapter 34: Wait, What?

  Elie doesn’t have a clue.

  He mutters while he walks. “Oh, yeah, I’ll just walk on up to the army. Tell them some North Korean guys wanna blow up the Verrazano—they’re bringing the commie brigade. There’s no way this is gonna work.”

  A step later, he decides he’ll feel a lot better with the shotgun. So he goes back and grabs the weapon out of the trash. He figures he’ll hide it closer to the base.

  Then realizes how psychotic he’s acting.

  Military will end up shooting him on sight.

  The shotgun goes back into the garbage can.

  He passes by Fort Hamilton Park. Above him, the Verrazano looms.

  Dawn creeps over the horizon.

  He reaches 101st Street. Turns left.

  The base kiosk is just a little ways away. Through the big iron gates.

  He takes off his trench coat. It holds the precious shotgun shells. He crumples it into an unappealing ball. He stuffs it inside some shrubs. His heavy flannel shirt protects him from the chilly night air.

  Elie makes a beeline for the vehicle checkpoint. “This is not going to go well.” He passes under the Verrazano off ramp. Walks onto the base. His pace quickens. “Everyone’s jumpy about terrorism. So it’ll get their attention, sure. Will they do a damn thing about it? Will they shut down the Verrazano? Or will these guys just lock me up thinking I’m in league with—”

  “Hold it,” comes the voice of a guard. A kid, by the sound of it. Probably not much older than Jack. “You all right, sir? Lost? Hear you talking to yourself there.”

  Elie stops. Feels kind of like an asshole.

  It is a kid eyeing him. The soldier isn’t pointing his rifle. But Elie doesn’t want to test the guy’s patience or give him any reason at all to act.

  Elie slows his breathing. “Heh, sorry. Momentary lapse. I’m getting old.” He starts walking again.

  The soldier puts up a hand. “That’s close enough.”

  Shit, Elie thinks. I’m already screwing this up.

  The soldier says, “What’re you doing here?”

  Elie keeps his hands at his sides. “I wanted to report a terror threat.”

  The soldier arches his eyebrows. “Report then.”

  Elie starts bullshitting. “I work for a private engineering firm contracted by the city. A lot of what I do is concerned with finding the weak spots in city infrastructure and then figuring out how to fix them.”

  The soldier nods. Seems to relax with Elie a little bit.

  Elie slides his hands into his pocket. “Just so you know where I’m coming from, right? Anyway, couple hours ago, I got a phone call. It’s too late for anyone I know to be calling, I mean they did wake me up, and I didn’t recognize the number, so I didn’t answer. But these assholes kept calling, right?”

  The soldier keeps nodding.

  Elie shrugs. “So I pick up finally. And there’s this deep voice asking if I’m so and so who works with whoever and have I worked on the Verrazano. And I ask who it is, because I don’t recognize the voice, and it’s got a slight Arabic accent but they keep asking about the Verrazano and if I found any weaknesses in it.” Mentally, Elie curses himself for relying on a stereotype.

  The soldier put his hands on his hips.

  Elie says, “And I keep asking who it is and why they wanna know and they just keep rambling. Finally the voice tells me I’ll find out soon enough. Then the voice says ‘Allah Akbar, Jew.’”

  The soldier’s eyes go wide. “Jesus Christ. Okay, you got a name? Driver’s license?”

  He hands over his license. “Elie Schrieber.”

  The soldier sprints to the guardhouse. Shouts over his shoulder to Elie, “Why didn’t you call the cops?”

  Elie shouts back, “I live up the road. Figured this might be faster. And I wanted to actually talk to someone. Plus who knows if those assholes found some way to tap my phones or something.”

  That line of bullshit sounds particularly good to Elie. And apparently to the soldier as well, who nods his head in the affirmative.

  The soldier’s in the guardhouse for a minute. Maybe two. Then he walks back out to Elie. “All right,” he says. “Turns out there has been some chatter.”

  Elie’s surprised, but happy for the coincidence. “What does that mean?”

  “Means we gotta call in the Feds, NYPD anti-terror, start moving. It’ll take a while to shut down the bridge.”

  Elie puts his hands out. “But it’s got to be done.”

  “Yes, sir. And I’m gonna need you to stay with us for a while. Until we get this sorted out. We’ve got a visitor center. Garrison commander’s gonna want to talk to you. Make sure we get everything.”

  “That really necessary?”

  The soldier furrows his brow. “There some reason you don’t want to stay?”

  “No, yeah, well, my daughter’s home alone.”

  “How old is your daughter?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Call her, tell her to stay inside. She’ll be fine.”

  “I’d rather go.”

  “It won’t take long.”

  “If she gets scared—”

  “She’s seventeen, sir. Not four.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Okay, you know what?” The soldier spins Elie. Cinches a plastic zip cord around his wrists. “You came here to tell us about a possible terror attack. You’ve done your patriotic duty. And we thank you for that. But we also take potential threats very seriously for obvious reasons, and I need you to stay here with us. You’re a witness. Not a suspect. You aren’t under arrest. I am temporarily detaining you, sir. In case we need more info.”

  Elie cranes his neck. “All right. Sorry. I worry about my daughter.”

  “I can appreciate that. But we need to make sure we get all the info we can. And you’re our one source. I’m not sure what you were expecting. We’re the army. Not the cops. But at least you didn’t walk into an a federal building. Those guys are real assholes.”

  The soldier leads Elie deeper into the base.

  Of course, this is what Caleb wanted.<
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  Chapter 35: Perfututum (Totally fucked)

  “Your dad will be fine,” Caleb says to Catarina.

  The two descend into the tunnels. Head toward Three’s burrow. “Safest place for him is at the base, surrounded by firepower. This way, the Corrupted are guaranteed to not land on him.”

  Catarina huffs. “Right. They’re gonna come down on us instead.”

  “Right. And Jack.”

  “Right.”

  They crawl through the sewers above the Hroza burrow. At some point, they’ll reach the hole in the pipe, tie their ropes off, then drop down on the little family meeting Three’s having. Just in time for the Corrupted to crash down.

  Neither has a clue if Three or the other monsters can sense them. Detect them. But considering how quiet everything seems, they bet the beasts are otherwise distracted. Maybe plotting the fight against their kin.

  Catarina says, “Bastards are occupado.”

  Caleb flicks some trash from his shoulder. “Well, I’m in favor of that. I’d prefer they don’t know a thing about what we’re doing until it’s too late.”

  “How can we stop them if they try? If they plug into our heads?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that.”

  They scramble another few feet through the putrid muck.

  Catarina says, “Yeah? And?”

  “Just that. I’ve been thinking about it.”

  “Your gift is literally about brain power and that’s the best you can do.”

  “Okay, fine, I’ve got an idea.”

  “Hit me.”

  “These jerks broadcast stuff to us because we’ve got the right receivers. The genes we share with them. How we’re wired, yeah? So what if we shut that down?”

  “You mean turn off our gifts?”

  “Just for a little while. Look, Jack’s gift is all about combat. He’s a gunslinger. And a brute. Clever, but not a thinker. Our gift is brain power, though. I think we were the ones giving up our location the whole time.”

  Catarina wrinkles her nose. She hates the idea.

  “Point is,” Caleb says, “if your mind is so awesome it can translate the words of the Hroza and mine turns me into a little Kasparov, why can’t we turn it off for stealth purposes? That’s gotta be something we can do, all things considered.”