A few seconds later, Shift yelled, “hold on!” Then he turned hard to the left, onto the paved road. As the Fluxor hit the pavement, it shot like a bullet and the Skins were soon lost from sight.
July 6, 10:41 AM—Hidden Bunker near Boston
“There’s something outside the cabin, on the east perimeter,” Mike told the group anxiously staring at the monitors that adorned the walls of the lab. He had called them into the lab over the old PA system. Everyone was present, sitting or standing however they could manage in order to get a better look.
“I can’t see anything,” John said.
“It’s not there anymore, but it was big,” Mike replied.
“What do you mean by ‘big’?” Dr. Shevchuk asked.
“Well, not big necessarily. But it wasn’t a small animal. It looked human.”
There shouldn’t have been people out there. But they had been hearing sounds coming from the ventilator shafts for several hours. Mr. Carón Blanchard, the bunker’s ventilation specialist and electrical engineer had inspected the shafts several times already—from the inside. The ventilation system allowed odors and carbon dioxide to leave the shelter and prevented any substance or particulate from entering. But it wasn’t invulnerable to damage from outside. The people were on edge.
“There it is!” Mrs. Chrissy Houghton gasped. All eyes turned to the corner screen where she pointed.
“That’s a man,” John said.
As they stared in disbelief at the sight of a living, walking man outside the bunker, four more human bodies appeared. Within minutes, nearly every one of the 22 camera feeds on the outside of the bunker registered the presence of human forms. It was impossible to tell how many were out there, but most of them were naked, and they were all bald.
Then, although they didn’t know it yet, the communication system went down.
July 6, 2093
Within hours of the Boston bunker’s sighting of humans outside the cabin on the surface, dozens of similar episodes occurred around the world.
July 7, 2093, 4:10 PM—Shift
“I haven’t heard from anyone at the bunker since early yesterday morning,” I said. “My MEHD can’t connect with them. It’s like the system is malfunctioning or something.”
“Weird,” Anta replied. “I wonder what’s happened.”
“They’re probably on vacation,” Angel said, smiling. “You know how Yurgi likes to party.”
We all laughed, but it was nervous laughter.
“Well, vacation or not, I’d really like to know how far we are from the nearest Skins,” I said. “Especially after yesterday’s close call.”
For several days, we’d been narrowly avoiding mobs of Skins as we traveled from Louisiana through Texas and into New Mexico. We had been lucky. Reports from our friends, while they were still communicating, were that those we’d inoculated, those we’d yet to attend to, and others around the world, were succumbing to the Skins in droves. Most don’t have the weaponry we do, the experience using any weaponry they do have, nor the experience we do in outrunning them.
Our plan was to head to Cabo Rojo; but we had to do so without being followed by the Skins. The whereabouts of Jon Porter’s “secret” bunker must remain a secret, particularly from the Skins.
“What is that up there?” Street asked two minutes later. Street was driving, and his eyes seemed to be far better than mine. I looked up ahead. Sure enough, there was something in the road.
“Maybe it’s a rock slide or something,” I offered, hopeful that that was all it was. We were traveling through a low mountain pass—actually, more like big hills. But they were rocky. I thought it was possible.
“No, I don’t think so,” Street said. “I think I see movement. Pull out the binocs Anta. I’m stopping here.”
Anta reached over the seat into the back of the Fluxor. She rummaged through the gear that was scattered around the back as a result of the high-speed twisting and turning of the Fluxor over the past couple of days. Nobody had bothered to clean up the mess. She finally found the binocs and handed them to me in the front seat. I placed them over my head and adjusted the lenses.
“Ohhhh crap,” I said quietly, and slowly. I took the binocs off and handed them to Street. After placing them on his head, his lips mouthed a few salty curse words. Then he removed the binocs and handed them to the back seat. Anta and Angel each took a turn leaning over the back of the seat in front of them to see. Angel swore aloud, but a peaceful look came over Anta’s face. It wasn’t right.
Up ahead, maybe two and half kilometers at most, was a roadblock composed entirely of Skins—a couple thousand of them, or more. They were more-or-less stationary, standing at attention in orderly rows perhaps 15-20 deep. The rows of Skins stretched across the road and up the hillsides for a hundred meters on either side of the road.
We had stopped moving toward them; but curiosity won the day and a joint decision was made to move closer. We knew we could outrun them in the Fluxor, so we determined to move close enough to see what they were up to. Street released the brake and the Fluxor inched forward.
“Ok, I’ll get us closer, but Anta and Angel, you watch for an end run out the sides and rear window,” cautioned Street.
We had killed hundreds of Skins over the past few days as we escaped from town after town. Perhaps they wanted peace—a little respite from the deadly guns of Mr. Threet “Street” Kimball—former outside linebacker for the New York Giants. It seemed unlikely. More likely, they wanted revenge.
As we inched closer, still “safely” within the confines of the Fluxor, certain details became more apparent through the binocs. At their front was Cain. He stood alone in front of the group—clearly the leader. I wasn’t surprised. On two prior occasions, he had looked wiser, stronger, and more intelligent than the others. On this occasion, he held what appeared to be a semi-automatic rifle in his left hand; but from our distance, it was hard to tell. His right hand was raised in the air, palm toward us, and all five fingers were close together and pointed to the sky.
Most of the others also held weapons, the majority of which appeared to be firearms. Until very recently, we had not seen a single gun carried by any of them. In recent encounters over the past couple of days, however, we observed a handful wielding guns. For the most past, though, the Skins had carried nothing more deadly than clubs and axes. This was a new development, and not a welcome one. But none of them had raised their weapons. Plus, the Fluxor was built to be bullet-proof. I felt pretty safe, so far.
When we were approximately 110 or 120 meters away, Street stopped the Fluxor, but left the thrusters running, with the lever in reverse. The living roadblock was on a shallow rise of the land. On either side of the roadway, steep, rocky hills rose up and away from the roadside. Those rocky hills blocked any means of travel forward except for on the roadway. If we needed to leave quickly, backward was our only route. Luckily, Street and I had each had several opportunities over the past few days to test out and gain confidence with the reverse thrusters as we escaped from smaller hordes of Skins.
Cain appeared to be staring straight into the Fluxor, but I couldn’t tell whether he was focused on anything in particular.
“Do you think he wants to talk?” Angel asked.
“Don’t care dude,” Street replied. “I’ve heard him talk. I don’t want to hear it again.”
“We need to let him talk, I think,” I said.
Anta’s knees began to bounce with nervous energy.
Ultimately, we needed to hear what Cain had to say, if anything, or we wouldn’t have taken the risk. This appeared to be the moment we had fearfully and anxiously waited for: an opportunity to talk, rather than just run.
Cain spoke, making the decision for us. He didn’t have any communication device or other apparatus to amplify his voice, but his voice reached us all the same. It was the same voice we’d heard that night in Amqui, but it was laced with intensity and anger.
“Although you have evaded
us in the past,” he began, “it is time for this to end. Your existence is an abomination to God. You were not created by Him, but rather, are a perversion of his Holy Plan. He did not intend for you to exist and it falls upon us, his ordained and chosen people, to wipe you from the face of God’s Earth. Come forward to be slain!”
For some reason, until this moment, I had not considered the aptness of the name “Cain”, and I wondered whether he had taken that name or whether it was given to him at birth. Like Cain from the Biblical story in the book of Genesis—and also the Quran and other ancient texts—this Cain seemed like a bad dude. In Genesis, Cain, one of the sons of Adam and Eve, killed his brother Abel some time shortly after the creation of the world. That Cain was the first to kill another human. Now, this man, also Cain, seemed determined to kill the last humans. Unlike the story in the Book of Genesis though, this Cain apparently believed he had been called of God and ordained to kill. I doubt the Biblical Cain had such motives or aspirations. He was just jealous.
Upon hearing Cain’s words, Street placed his hand on the door to exit the Fluxor. Street’s a very religious guy, we had learned. I knew that letting him leave the Fluxor would get ugly, quickly. Reaching over, I grabbed his shoulder to restrain him. Although my grasp wasn’t strong enough for me to stop Street, he didn’t fight me.
“Street, sit down,” I growled under my breath. “We don’t need you acting like a hero.”
“He’s right, Street,” Angel added. “Jumping out that door and shooting off your mouth, or your guns, would probably provide all the motivation the Skins need to attack or open fire, and we won’t have time to get you back in the car before they swarm us. We need to talk. So stay in that seat.”
“Why did he bring God into this?” Street asked, through clenched teeth.
I didn’t know, of course, but I wanted to find out. Street’s attempted rash act would have certainly prevented that, and probably got him, and maybe the rest of us killed.
What I really wanted to figure out was why Anta had begun bouncing up and down like she was about to pee her pants. She was looking forward, seemingly staring at Cain. Every time the Skins had gotten near us over the past few days, Anta started acting weird. Angel, Street and I had talked privately yesterday. Angel suggested that, perhaps, Cain held some kind of psychological influence over Anta. I rejected the notion; but now I’m not sure. I nodded to Angel, giving her a knowing look. She understood and reached over and gently grasped Anta’s hand.
“Street,” I said very quietly, “keep your finger on the auto locks please. We need Anta to stay here.”
Street nodded.
Lowering my window, I shouted Cain’s name.
Immediately, Cain said, “There is no reason to cry out. We can hear your words clearly, for we are the Chosen.”
So, in a normal voice, I asked, “Why do you believe that we are an abomination before God? Aren’t we all God’s children? Aren’t we human, just like you, created in His image?” I looked over at Street for reassurance.
He nodded again.
Cain replied, with passion and great fervor, “You are not human like us. You are a perverted creation of man, not God. The God of the Heavens looks upon you with abhorrence and contempt. He has called upon us, from His throne in the Heavens, to act as His messengers, and to destroy you; just as He has already destroyed the rest of your kind through His great and terrible plague.”
After these words, Street could hardly contain himself. “Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Nobody tells me that my God wants me to die! Nobody tells me that he is a messenger from my God, sent to destroy me! These dudes need to go down!”
I agreed, of course, but would probably have used different language. Now I put my finger on the electronic locks. There were now two people I had to keep in the hover.
I electronically rolled up my window so we could discuss what action to take. Obviously, Street wanted to fight. Angel, on the other hand, wanted to flee. She couldn’t understand the logic of attempting to face a mass of Skins so great under these circumstances. I believed that the time would come for another fight, but that it was not now. I think Anta would have agreed with me, but her vote, whatever it might be, was forfeited as a result of her agitated, nearly-hypnotic state.
Although this wasn’t a democracy, Street understood that he was outnumbered, and I hoped that he also saw our logic. We decided to flee. The Skins were starting to get restless. Every couple of seconds, one or more of them would dart out a few meters, then slowly back up into the lines. Cain’s hand had remained in the air. It looked like he was controlling them, but that his control was tenuous.
Before we left, I lowered my window and again called out to Cain.
“Cain! We have no quarrel with you. We believe that we can all live on this Earth, together, in peace. We will leave, and stay away from you and your people. Although we have made this decision, do not mistakenly believe that we cower at your presence or your words. We will fight if we must, but we choose, at this time, to attempt to live in peace.” I lied. I was pretty sure we couldn’t all live together in peace.
“Nice speech,” Angel said, perhaps a little too sarcastically.
Cain replied, in a voice full of fury and rage, “You will die! You will die now!” He dropped his hand. With that motion, the throngs of Skins swept toward us like a tsunami. Street hit the reverse thrusters and we fled, narrowly avoiding a crushing blow of bodies as they jumped toward us and high into the air, to rain down from the sky.
At the same time, Anta threw her body into the right side window. Rearing back, she threw herself at it again and again.
“What the hell is she doing?” Street yelled, trying to concentrate on flying in reverse.
“I can’t stop her,” Angel screamed as she tried, desperately, to grab hold of Anta’s clothing and torso.
I sat there for a moment, unmoving, stunned and scared. A few of the faster, or closer Skins had reached us and successfully clung to the outside of the hover. We could hear them howling; their nails digging into the exterior of the hover as the wind rushed past them.
One Skin, grasping the hood next to the windshield, stared at me, her bare breasts crushed against the hood as she fought to stay affixed. Her blood-red saliva slipped from her open mouth and I watched with fascination as it ran across her face and bald head and flew off behind her into the slowly-thinning horde. Her eyes seemed to scream at me. It felt as though her shadowy eyes tore into my mind. I actually felt pain. I wondered if that was what Anta was feeling as she continued to thrash against Angel’s arms that were still trying to control her.
Street began to swerve back and forth rapidly, attempting to dislodge the few remaining Skins from their grasp on the hover. It worked as one after another lost his or her grip and tumbled to the road, rolling over and over until gravity and friction finally stopped their motion. Finally, the female in front of me lost her grip too and slid down the hood onto the road, wailing as she went. The pain in my head ended abruptly as she crashed into the ground.
Had the Skins been merely human, such a fall—at over 100 miles per hour—would have killed or very successfully maimed them. But the Skins, whatever they were, just got up and joined their colleagues in pursuit of our small party still trying to escape, traveling in reverse. The woman who had stared into my soul also rose from the ground. Her breasts and face were covered in blood which oozed from the cuts and gashes she had suffered in her fall from the hover.
Bullets began to pierce the shell of the Fluxor as the Skins lost ground; but they didn’t penetrate the interior.
Having gained a little distance, Street threw the steering stick to the left and slammed the thrusters to neutral, then from neutral to forward, rapidly turning the Fluxor 180 degrees to the right. It was a beautiful maneuver, but I didn’t have time to relish it as a blast tore up the road next to us. Another blast, then another, then another narrowly missed us as the Skins continued to fall away behind us. The last explosion hit so cl
ose to our left side that its force rocked the hover 15 or 20 degrees from horizontal, violently throwing all four of us to the right. When I had a chance, I looked back to see what type of weapon the skins had that could affect the hover like that. I couldn’t tell because some of the skins were still chasing us and blocking the view.
After falling back to horizontal, Street again hit the thrusters. He never let off as we continued at an uncomfortably-high speed away from the horde. Although they continued to pursue us for many kilometers, we eventually lost sight of them. That was good. We needed to not only put more distance between us, but we needed to do so without them seeing where we went.
A few minutes later—time which felt like an eternity—Anta finally ceased her attempt to break free of the safe confines of the Fluxor. Her body relaxed and she slumped forward, her seatbelt the only thing keeping her off the floor between the seats. I watched as Angel gently and carefully helped Anta back into an upright position. Angel then wrapped her arm around Anta and began to sing. I didn’t recognize the melody or the words, but the effect was magical. Anta’s eyes opened slowly, and she began to sing along quietly.
A few minutes later, as Angel’s song died out, Anta began to cry. She was bleeding from her forehead and seemed dazed. She hadn’t spoken since we first saw the Skins, apart from her fragmented singing. Her clothes were ripped and her skin was scratched in several places where Angel had tried to grab her in order to still her rabid lurching.
Moments later, Anta fell asleep, blood slowly dripping down the front of her face and onto her ripped tank top.
“How bad is that cut, Angel?” I asked.
“It’s hard to tell,” she replied as she dabbed at the blood with a red and white striped bandana that had been holding her hair back. “It doesn’t look deep. She’s going to have a killer headache, but I think she’ll be fine.”
Anta’s action reminded me of Sarah, the Skin that charged at my window many days earlier. I no longer doubted the theory Angel posited a few days ago. Cain surely has, or had, some grasp on Anta’s mind, and probably the minds of the Skins. I needed to keep Anta away from the Skins, particularly Cain.
Tomorrow We Rise Page 11