The Nano Experiment

by Wid Bastian

  “Lucky bounce? I’ve never seen the ball tossed so hard, I mean it’s like a bullet when it leaves your stick.”

  “My dad showed me how to play. It’s all in the wrist,” Neron lied.

  “Let the little bastard play,” a big man said, coming up from behind. “You got three other guys to team up with you kid?”

  Neron turned and looked up at a very imposing man. The guy was huge, almost twice Neron’s weight and half a meter taller. From the looks of him he lived at the weight pile. Off to the side were three of the man’s friends, also very buff and large.

  “I’ll find some players if you have any money that you’d be willing to wager,” Neron challenged.

  The big man laughed. “You’re serious, aren’t you? How much you got kid?”

  “A hundred and twenty credits,” Neron said as he pulled the tokens out of his pocket.

  “Morgan, you’re a witness. This little sucker freely bet a hundred and twenty credits.”

  “Yeah, okay. Drop ‘em all in the box, I’ll give it to the winners.”

  The big man took up a collection from his friends and then dropped the credits into the box. Neron did the same.

  “Give me fifteen minutes to get my team together,” Neron said.

  “Take a half hour,” the big man said, laughing. “We ain’t in no hurry.”

  Neron knew right where to go, a nearby watering hole where many target ball players congregated before and after matches. The place was cramped and smelly but very popular with the athletic crowd. As soon as Neron went inside he smiled. He saw a familiar face.

  “Kid!” the man in the back called to him as soon as he saw Neron. “How the hell are ya!”

  “Mr. Lemmon, hi,” Neron said. “Glad I caught up with you. I have a -.”

  “I was just telling these guys all about the best T-ball player I’ve ever seen, you! That was amazing what you did last week, really -.”

  “Wanna make some money?” Neron asked.

  “Always,” Lemmon said.

  “I have a match lined up right now. These guys look tough, but we can beat ‘em. I already put up the bet, a hundred and twenty credits. I’ll split the winnings with you and two other players.”

  “This kid as good as you say he is?” another man at the table asked.

  “Better,” Lemmon said. “Don’t be fooled by appearances.”

  “He’s just a kid, and a pretty spindly one at that,” another guy at the table said. “No offense kid, but -.”

  Neron was on this man in a flash, pinning his arm behind his back and forcing his face into the table.

  Lemmon laughed so hard he spilled his drink all over himself. “Don’t hurt him,” he said bent at the waist wiping tears from his eyes, “we need him healthy and ready to play. You got any more stupid questions, Lance?”

  Lance, evidently the man’s name, was suitably impressed. “What’s with you kid? You some sorta superfreak?”

  “Yep, that’s me. Game’s on right now. You guys ready?” Neron asked.

  “I’ll cut you in for half the side bets kid,” Lemmon said as he pulled at least two hundred credits from his pocket.

  After a few minutes of blustering Lemmon was able to place two hundred credits worth of side bets at three to one odds with a few of the spectators. As word of the match spread, a crowd grew. The main target ball court could accommodate fifty or so viewers. When the game started there were no empty seats and people were standing, maneuvering to get a better view.

  Neron knew he had to switch it on, whatever it was that allowed him to perform at a high level. Although he hadn’t told anyone, especially his mom, he was becoming much better at being able to control his strength. He hoped he would not black out; he wanted to remember every minute of this game.

  From the opening toss, Neron and his team dominated. Neron was virtually unstoppable on offense. Despite being the smallest man on the court, no one could knock him off his feet. Even when they managed to lay a good hit on him Neron simply absorbed the blow and kept moving. He scored every goal himself until his team was up twenty to two, then he felt confident enough to pass more often and let his teammates score.

  When the first half buzzer sounded, Neron took off his helmet and smiled at the big man, whose name was Gordy.

  “You’re unreal, kid. I gotta hand it to ya. Best damn -.”

  The alarm blared throughout all of Forged Bay interrupting Gordy’s apology and compliment. It was almost deafening. From the tone and sequence – three deep blasts in a row, then two seconds of silence, then three more blasts – everyone knew what was happening.

  The unthinkable.

  New Fairbanks was under attack.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Even though this was the first attack New Fairbanks had experienced, the citizens were prepared to repel an assault. Emergency drills were conducted on a monthly basis. Everyone knew what they were required to do and where they were supposed to be if and when the time came to defend their home. The first and utmost priority was ensuring the city was sealed – doing so would limit the loss of life to only those unfortunate enough to be outside when the attack began.

  Neron could hear the explosive charges going off in the ventilation shafts. Doors were slamming shut all around him; sections of the city were being isolated per the defense plan. Where were his mother and sister right now? They had to be home when the alarm sounded. Elian would be required to report to the armory if Neron remembered correctly. Shayla would probably be hiding in her room, terrified and crying out for her big brother to come and save her.

  That was where he was headed, home. Neron was supposed to report to his school, but there was no way he was going to do that until he could be sure his baby sister was safe. Pushing his way through the panicked throng, he had made it about halfway home when he heard yelling and screaming and the unmistakable sound of groaning and shearing metal.

  The doors to the city were opening!

  How could this be happening? Neron asked himself as he ran even faster toward Shayla. That’s impossible. How many times had the community been told that as long as everyone stayed inside The Plague could not penetrate the city. Government troops with air support should already be on their way to destroy the invaders or, at the very least, send the enemy retreating south.

  From his vantage point on a ledge overlooking the main concourse, Neron looked down at the city entrance. The gigantic entry doors were being pulled at by two competing forces – one determined to open them and another equally determined to keep them shut. This baffled Neron, it made no sense. There was only one control room, one set of security procedures… but still there was no denying the huge plates were starting to separate.

  He dashed into his living quarters. Shayla was nowhere to be found! Where was she? Neron felt a strange sensation in his body. There was energy, a force welling up inside him. He knew this had to have something to do with his special nature, but he had never experienced anything this extreme before. His right hand was cramping, then tingling, then cramping again. Not now, please not now! Neron begged his body. He knew he needed all of his strength and mental faculties in order to save his sister.

  After taking a second to look for a note or any kind of clue as to where she was, Neron headed out. People were running in every direction, screaming and panicking – the city was in chaos. He went back to the ledge overlooking the concourse. Hundreds of the infected were trying to force themselves through a half meter wide opening in the city doors.

  Security teams were pouring Light Rifle fire at the opening. The blasts were hitting the enemy, but also ricocheting off the door, killing people inside. Through the gap, Neron saw something like shadows; the outlines of invisible creatures illuminated by Light Rifle fire.

  Were these the Kanos he’d heard so much about? Mythical, or so he thought until now, invisible soldiers each with the strength of twenty men? Growing up they were the bogey men, monsters children feared when they went to bed. They were re
al? They weren’t legends? This could not be happening…

  “Neron!” he heard his sister yell. Shayla was three levels below him on the concourse, in imminent danger of being trampled. Reflexively, Neron dove head first from the balcony on to the floor below, a thirty meter drop. He landed on his feet, rolled and without losing momentum sprinted towards his little sister.

  Shayla ran to her brother. He flung her over his shoulder and headed for cover.

  “How did you do that?” she asked him after they were safely out of harm’s way.

  Neron ignored her question and pulled her off him, setting her down a few inches away from his face. “Where’s Mom?” he asked.

  “At the armory, I guess” Shayla answered. “That’s her assigned duty station.”

  “Let’s go then,” Neron said, grabbing his sister’s hand and turning out into the corridor. They didn’t make it very far. As they got closer to the main entrance, the halls were jammed with terrified people. To get to the armory they would have to make it to the far south end of the city complex. Thinking on his feet Neron picked up his sister and put her on his back. Shoving people aside, he made his way to another small alcove.

  Where would Shayla be the safest? Where can I get to in this mad crush?

  Security soldiers were pouring fire into the entrance gate. Staying anywhere in the open concourse promised nothing but death. Were higher levels any safer? Neron remembered that a new auditorium was being built on a higher level. Perhaps he could hide Shayla in a blast hole or in some equipment and shield her from this madness.

  Between Neron and Shayla and the stairway there were perhaps two hundred citizens all yelling and screaming and trying to move back towards the north end of the city, away from the entrance. The stairs adjacent from the main entrance were also packed with people and now bodies, victims of Light Rifle fire that had gone astray.

  Closing his eyes, Neron summoned his strength. He tried to focus on moving from point A, where he was, to point B, the levels above. His body responded like never before.

  As he moved from his position in the alcove towards the stairs with Shayla on his back, Neron weaved his way through the mass of bodies occupying the concourse. When he couldn’t get around people he simply pushed them aside with little effort and kept on moving. He was shocked at how strong and agile he was but knew he had to move faster. Hundreds of people were slamming their fists against barricaded doors. Sections of the city were being sealed off to minimize damage. If he didn’t get Shayla to safety soon they would be trapped.

  Neron ran up the stairs, rapidly climbing to the third level pushing his body further with every step he took. When he arrived he was relieved. Reaching up he released his sister’s grip from his neck.

  She fell to the floor.

  “Shayla wake up!” he shouted, shaking his sister. “Hey, come on! This isn’t time to be playing around, wake up!”

  “Shayla!” He flipped her over. Neron let loose an agonizing scream. He could not believe what he was seeing; Shayla had taken a direct hit in the back from a deflected Light Rifle blast.

  She was dead.

  He continued to scream, tears pouring down his face. His hands trembled uncontrollably as he reached down to pick up his sister. Holding her tightly in his arms, he rocked her back and forth shaking his head side to side, whispering “no, no, no” repeatedly. This was a nightmare.

  Then it got worse. The city gates let loose and The Plague poured in flooding the entrance. Their loud hissing vibrated off the walls. Rage resonated deep inside him. He watched as the hideous nano monsters shredded anyone they came in contact with. Security soldiers blasted away wounding a few and killed five or six more, but their efforts were futile. The Plague truly lived up to their name.

  Neron looked at his hand. He didn’t recognize it but knew it was his. He felt his blood surging, he felt power coursing through his body. Starting at his elbow and running to the tip of his fingers his skin was now metallic, catching bits of light in the smoke filled room. Surrounding his hand was a black aura that swirled in the center of his palm. His fingers were noticeably longer and sharp at the tips. Instinct told him it had only one purpose, to destroy the creatures that had killed his beloved Shayla.

  Beads of sweat started to build on Neron’s face. He felt every sensation, his hearing was incredibly acute. The Kanos were working on the inner doors. Although he was at least fifty meters away, Neron could hear their nails scraping and prying. He knew it was only a matter of time. The seals would not hold. Shayla was dead. If his mother was going to have any chance at survival Neron needed to do something now.

  Neron fearlessly jumped from the balcony and on to the concourse floor, right into the midst of the carnage. He slashed away at The Plague each time feeling more and more power course through him. The center of his palm felt frozen. As he plunged it repeatedly into the creatures he took no notice of the state he left them in.

  Lost in a fury of violence Neron fought the creatures, but more of them attacked him. Finally, one managed to stick its claw into Neron’s gut. Neron could not believe his eyes. The creature stood motionless, empty, suspended in time. Then suddenly it crumbled and turned into dust. A small fluorescent light ran the length of Neron’s wound cauterizing and healing it instantly. He was unharmed, completely renewed. He continued to flail away at the enemy.

  The inner doors were breached. The Plague now had access to virtually the entire city. A feeding frenzy was taking place; flesh ripped from bone, rivers of blood flowed …

  Still Neron continued to fight.

  Without exception, the creatures were turning into dust after coming in contact with Neron’s right hand. Neron butchered the creatures, but he made no progress towards winning the battle. As soon as he killed one, another came at him. They couldn’t kill Neron and he could not kill enough of them. Fighting for what seemed like an eternity Neron finally collapsed from exhaustion. The last thing he remembered before blacking out was the sound of helicopters and a blinding white light…

  Outside the government troops arrived and blasted away at the thousands of infected creatures. The radiation beam mounted to each of the CH-7 helicopters was effective at killing the creatures. Reinforcements were quickly arriving to join the fight.

  The creatures clicked and squealed. Then they abruptly stopped all movement except to look up, their faces soiled bright red from their victim’s blood. Ticking their head to the side, they were obviously trying to process some kind of information. For a brief moment they remained still. Then, all at once they fled back out through the city gates. The government troops did not back off. Hundreds of The Plague were killed, but thousands more escaped into the forest.

  When the troops entered the city they discovered a sea of dead flesh, blood, and bones encircled by a beach of black sand. In the center they saw what looked to be a hand. The hand wasn’t human, but it did not belong to The Plague. As the troops dug to uncover what lay beneath they were shocked to see a young boy. The hand was his. He was alive but unconscious. They pulled him from the debris and immediately transported him to a casualty evacuation craft for immediate departure.

  The troops combed the city. They found and destroyed several wounded infected creatures, but after hours and hours of diligent searching they discovered no evidence of human life. The few humans who did show signs of life were too far gone to save. With a heavy heart, the troops mercifully put them out of their misery.

  Everyone in New Fairbanks, save Neron, had perished.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Cassia had sequestered herself deep in a cavern in an area once called New Mexico. While she spent a great deal of time on the surface, only underground did she feel completely safe. Here in the darkness she could sit quietly, not on alert but at rest, listening.

  Her soldiers numbered in the tens of millions. Unless she deliberately filtered her thought process, she could hear all of their cries. Normally she permitted only her top commanders access to her telepa
thic gift, but today the agony of her dying soldiers in Alaska was impossible to ignore.

  Someone was destroying them in a way she had never seen nor felt before. They were literally disintegrating from the attacks of this new foe. This same new enemy was also able to absorb wounds that killed ordinary men, even enhanced human beings.

  This was a disturbing development, very disturbing. She was aware of the special gifts some humans possessed by virtue of their reaction to the nanogene. But a human capable of turning her soldiers into powder? How was that possible? She needed to know more about this uniquely gifted human threat. He must be exterminated, but he could not die until she knew all there was to know about him.

  This new enemy, evidently a young boy based on the information she received from a squad leader, was apparently the only survivor of her assault on New Fairbanks. Every aspect of the attack was carefully planned for almost two years. Her spies and informants had gathered a great amount of intelligence. For almost a month she stealthily assembled her army south of New Fairbanks in an old petroleum refinery complex. Inside the massive, now empty holding tanks she kept her soldiers safe and warm and, more importantly, undetected.