Critical Dawn

by Darren Wearmouth

  Charlie turned his back to the hole and repeated the abseiling procedure and back off the ledge, letting the rope rest with a notch on the edge of the ledge. He zipped down the rope and stalled his progress a foot above the mound of dirt and debris.

  The rumble continued from below.

  He tried to ignore the idea that it sounded like some great beast, its maw open just waiting to swallow him whole. Tentatively, Charlie placed his feet on patch of soil and tested his weight.

  It seemed solid enough.

  Luke’s blue windbreaker stuck out of the soil, his arm and hand held up, the fingers moving. Charlie reached down and grabbed his hand, traced his body until he found his head cocked to one side, half-buried in debris. Charlie cleared some of the soil and turf away from the kid’s face. His eyes were open and glinted with recognition beneath the flashlight.

  “I’m here, buddy,” Charlie said. “We’re gonna get you out. Can you move? Is anything broken?”

  “I … don’t know,” Luke said, his voice barely a whisper, the weight of the soil on his chest making him breathe in shallow breaths. “I thought I was going to die …”

  “It’s okay, buddy, don’t talk. Conserve your strength. I’m going to help get you out and put this harness on. You’ll be lifted out of here. You’re going to make it. Just squeeze my hand if I hurt you, okay?”

  Luke nodded gently and squeezed his hand.

  Before Charlie started excavating him from the debris, Charlie informed the others. He could feel the relief over the radio.

  “Okay, I’ll go slow,” Charlie said as he lowered himself until he straddled the boy. With his free hand, he started to shift the clods of earth from around the boy’s arms and legs. He made quick progress, but Luke hadn’t moved a muscle.

  Paralysis, Charlie thought. He could have broken his back.

  For a brief moment, he wondered if it was such a good idea getting the harness on him, but with the rumbles getting louder beneath him, he didn’t think he’d have enough time to get an EMT down there to assess him properly.

  Charlie made a judgment call: he’d get the kid out and worry about the rest later. It was better he took him out alive and injured than leave him to die.

  “I’m just going to let go of your hand for a moment, buddy. I need to get this harness on you. Just nod or make a noise if I’m hurting you.”

  Luke did just that, nodding and making a breathy, squeaking noise that sounded like, “Do it.”

  Each moment felt like a lifetime as Charlie worked on freeing the boy. He could feel the vibrations of the rumble below travel up his legs.

  Five minutes later, or what felt like five years, Charlie had managed to clear enough debris from him that he could slip the harness over Luke’s legs and waist. He attached the ropes and various safety gear and applied tension to test the connections. It was solid.

  Luke didn’t budge or make a noise.

  “Can you grip the rope?” Charlie said, handing it to him.

  The boy’s grip was weak, but he’d only need it to stop himself from falling backwards as they hoisted him up.

  “Good lad. This might hurt, but it’ll only be for a short while, and you’ll be back on the surface. Try and keep hold of the rope as they lift you up, okay?”

  “Okay,” Luke said. “Thank you.”

  Charlie stood back and reached for the two-way radio, readying to call up to the others. But the surface beneath him rocked and shook, making him drop the radio.

  He lost his balance and fell backwards, cracking the back of his head against the rocky surface. He slumped forward as pain bloomed in his skull, making him see white flashes.

  Before he knew it, the dirt below dropped away in a roar that made his ears pop. The pressure changed, and below him, watching in horror, the remaining debris fell away into a dark void.

  The harness gripped around his legs and waist as he swung out, his weight making the rope twang with the sudden tension.

  Luke yelped as he too tensioned against his rope. His grip failed him, and he fell backwards, his limbs flailing. The harness held him to the rope, but his eyes flashed wide with sudden terror.

  “Oh shit,” Charlie said, “Hold on, Luke. I’m coming.”

  With a twist of his body and pushing off against the hole, Charlie sent himself swinging out to the center of the hole, reaching out for Luke. He grabbed him by the arm and helped lift him upright.

  “Grab the rope,” Charlie said as he helped direct the kid’s hands. “Are you hurt?”

  “I can’t feel my back or my legs,” Luke said, his eyes closing tight.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here.”

  Charlie looked up to the hole and was about to shout up when he heard another roar from beneath him.

  This time, it was different. It wasn’t the sound of earth falling but rather something mechanical. When he looked down, he saw a belch of smoke bubble up. It made him choke and cough. The white smoke continued to fill the hole, tightening his throat so he couldn’t yell out.

  And in the smoke, gaining on them, a large, metallic object the same diameter as the hole rose up.

  An eerie, yellow light came from the front of it as it kept on climbing.

  Luke screamed when he saw it.

  Charlie’s spine went cold when he saw electricity flicker on the shape’s surface. He tried to lift his legs as the machine within the smoke came closer, but he wasn’t quick enough, and a bolt of electricity shot out, striking against his leg.

  His vision closed to tiny specks, consciousness dancing on the edge, the darkness consuming him, taking him away until he could no longer feel anything. His last image was the light at the top of the sinkhole, the small silhouette of Pippa looking down at him.

  He wanted to scream a warning, but it was too late.

  Chapter Eight

  The door raised to waist height, revealing stocky legs covered in dark gray rubber trousers with a meshed appearance. Shiny, black-gloved fingers curled around the bottom edge and pulled upward.

  Ben decided to help. He gripped the bottom left of the door and heaved. It quickly rumbled upwards and banged fully open.

  Blinding light filled the room, surrounding the silhouette of a person outside.

  Ben squinted away, eyes in pain. “We’re from the Operations Compartment. We’ve been ordered down for stasis preservation duties.”

  A single pair of footsteps entered.

  Erika’s nails dug into Ben’s arm. Her grip sprang free. She screamed, dropping to the ground, head slamming against the dirty metal floor.

  Ben looked down. Two arms ripped the prone Erika out of the room by her legs.

  He cupped his eyes, trying to get used to the light. Images started to become clearer.

  Maria screamed next. “Oh my God. Ben.”

  Outside, a large platform came into focus. A vehicle stood on the right side. It looked like a futuristic motorcycle apart from the lack of wheels. In the middle was a large man in a gray suit adorned with various pieces of body armor around the chest, shoulders, upper arms, and thighs. He pulled Erika to her feet by her hair.

  Ben could see blue sky, trees in the background on one side, the edge of a forest stretching as far as the eye could see.

  Ethan shook his shoulder. “Have we crash landed? Ben, what’s happening?”

  Ben brushed off his hand and stepped toward the exit. “What the fuck are you doing?” he shouted.

  The man on the platform ignored him and grabbed a handle protruding from a long, thin pocket on his thigh with his spare hand and slid out a glinting blade with a serrated edge on one side. Circular holes ran along the middle.

  “Help me. For God’s sake, help …” Erika flailed her arms, thumping against his unmoving, sturdy frame.

  Ben rushed out.

  The man’s head twisted around toward him. His reflective helmet visor shone with a blue sheen and glinted in the light. Ben froze a few yards short. Two tubes ran from his helmet to a square
backpack. Metal spikes ran along the back of his boots.

  He thrust Erika into the air by her ponytail as if lifting a trophy. She frantically kicked her legs to little effect.

  “Get off her,” Ben said as he stepped forward. “Now.”

  Erika’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth. The man plunged the blade into her chest three times in rapid succession before Ben could act.

  “No,” Ethan said.

  “What do we do? What do we do?” Maria said from behind him.

  The man threw Erika off the side of the platform without ceremony. He continued to face Ben, wiping the blade clean with his gloved hand.

  “Holy shit,” Ben said. For a moment, he seemed glued to the spot. “Quick. Round the side of that vehicle. To the edge of the platform.”

  “Where are we?” Ethan said.

  “Save the questions,” Ben said. “We need to find something, anything.”

  He darted behind the vehicle, skidding to a halt at the right ledge. The drop below appeared at least sixty feet. He frantically tried to process events.

  Maria crouched next to him, quivering. Ethan panted behind. The man circled the blade above his head, stalking around them in a wide arc.

  The area to the right looked like plowed farmland. Uniformed brown lines reached into the horizon. To his left, forest. Behind the ship, a deep gouge furrowed through the earth, running from the back of the ship into the far distance.

  He wondered if they had crash-landed, but how could he breathe?

  Black smoke belched from the ship into the clear, blue sky. He heard the noise of an engine straining and stopping, straining and stopping. The platform was around thirty feet long and twenty wide.

  He scanned the platform for a makeshift weapon. The surface was clear apart from the bike, a pool of blood, and the man approaching with a raised blade. As the man closed in around one end of the bike, the three of them all scuttled to the other. They faced off, nine feet apart, separated by machinery.

  “Why are you doing this? We’re part of the crew,” Maria said.

  Ben detected a low, clicking sound coming from the helmet. “Who are you?”

  The man sprang up onto the seat, landing into a hunch, then rising to a towering position above them. He raised the blade over his head and then pointed it at them.

  Ethan gasped. “We’re gonna die.”

  Ben ducked to one side as the blade swung down. It whistled past his ear and clanked against the metal chassis. He staggered back, dropping to the platform to avoid momentum taking him over the side.

  The man’s focus seemed to zero in on Ben. He leaped off the seat and advanced toward him, sheathing the blade and reaching for a hip holster. He pulled a black, angular-looking weapon out and aimed with a straight arm, head tilting to one side.

  Ben closed his eyes, thinking his time was up.

  Two loud cracks, seconds apart, split the air.

  Maria screamed.

  “Ben,” Ethan shouted.

  Something hit the platform, two items clattering with a thud. Ben opened his eyes.

  The man was on both knees, clutching his throat, weapon on the platform beside him. Another crack rang out.

  The man sprawled back, his blue visor splintered with a small hole in the middle. He slumped against the vehicle, motionless.

  Ben jumped to his feet and grabbed the pistol-like weapon. It was smooth and black with just a trigger and a button on the side. No insignia.

  He held his finger on the trigger and trained it on the armored man. Hopefully, the threat would be enough if the man was even still alive.

  Ben had never seen a real weapon. The closest he got was a wooden toy in the orphan compartment. It felt heavy and solid in his hand. Deadly.

  “Get behind me,” Ben said. Maria cautiously approached the body. “Stay away. He might get up.”

  She ignored him and reached out. Fumbling with the handle on the thigh, sliding out the long blade, still smeared with blood. “If another comes along.”

  “Who the hell was that?” Ethan said. “Where are we?”

  “I’ve no idea. We’ll figure it out eventually; let’s just get safe first,” Ben said.

  Ben glanced over the edge of the platform. Something moved in the trees below. A threat perhaps? More of these armored people?

  “Down there, movement. Do you see it?” Ben said.

  Three dark shapes cut through the trees alongside the ship.

  Maria pointed. “Oh my God, Ben, look, someone’s coming.”

  He followed Maria’s direction to the gouge behind the ship. Erika lay directly below, face down in the mud. Thirty feet along, another man lay flat on his back, dressed in the same uniform.

  Jimmy.

  From what Ben could see, his former colleague had suffered a similar fate. Jimmy’s twisted figure was deathly still, mouth open, face reddened with blood. His friend of over thirteen years butchered at the moment of retirement. He took a deep breath, trying to remain focused on immediate events.

  Ethan sunk to his knees and started to sob. “It’s over. We’ve failed.”

  “Pull yourself together. We need to find a way back into the ship. Get somewhere safe, warn the crew,” Ben said.

  He searched between the trees for signs of movement.

  “How do we get back?” Maria said.

  Two figures covered in foliage along with a dog broke from underneath the canopy cover. Two weapons aimed upwards toward them.

  “Shit! Back to the airlock,” Ben said.

  He grabbed Ethan by the epaulette and dragged him back. Ethan stumbled to his feet and quickly overtook Ben. To the immediate right of the door was a circular, charred indent; the ship appeared to have taken a considerable blast from something.

  They all crashed against the internal wall after staggering back in.

  “Jesus, Ben. Erika, Jimmy …” Maria said.

  “I know it’s hard, but try to forget about them for a moment. We’ll get some back-up soon. They won’t just leave us here.”

  “Who was that?” Ethan said.

  “No idea, but stay out of sight. They can’t see here.”

  Ben checked around the room, now assisted by light. What he originally mistook for grime had a dark purple color, spattered and speckled across the walls. He shoved against the internal door with his shoulder to no effect. Ethan slammed the bottom of his foot against it, grunting with every blow. Maria felt around the room, patting the stained surfaces, running her fingers down the corners.

  “What are you doing?” Ben said.

  “I don’t know. There might be a hidden button or something.”

  Ben crouched and peered over the back of the ship into the distance. Nothing looked familiar. A group of black specks circled in the air. The trees had a white tinge, and the outline of buildings jagged against the skyline, reminding him of the broken fence posts on the toy wooden farm in the orphan compartment.

  “Did you hear that?” Ethan said.

  “Hear what?” Ben said.

  “Shouting. Listen.”

  The engines continued to strain and lull below. Ben heard a voice drifting up on the breeze between the mechanical screams.

  “I’m going to check it out. Give me a minute,” he said.

  “Stay here. We’ll be safer,” Maria said.

  “It might be the people that saved our ass. I’ll crawl to the edge and have a look.”

  “They might not be people. How are you going to communicate?” Ethan said.

  “He’s right, Ben. You’ve seen the trench behind the ship. Doesn’t take a genius to work out we’ve crashed.”

  Ben peered back at the fresh brown trail chewed out of the ground. “We need to do something. I’m not waiting here for another psycho to show up.”

  He slid onto his stomach. Maria grasped his ankle. “Don’t do anything stupid. We need you.”

  Ben held up his thumb. He leopard-crawled across the platform, shooting glances at the body by the bike. A star
shone brightly in the sky directly above him, warming his neck. The small dimples in the metal gave him a decent grip, and he quickly progressed.

  He reached the edge, took a deep breath, and looked over.

  A single figure stood below, looking directly at him, the bearded face of a man. Ben thrust himself back with his elbows.

  “Hello. Hello,” a male voice called out. “Do you understand me?”

  He spoke in English. Another member of the crew? It made sense. That’s why they shot the attacker on the platform.

  Ben leaned over the edge. “What the hell’s happening? Where are we?”

  “I’ll explain when you come down. You’ve only got a few minutes.”

  “What happened to the ship? Did we detach?”

  The man appeared to start laughing. His shoulders rocked as he looked down, shaking his head.

  “I’m glad you find this funny,” Ben said.

  He gazed back up with a stern expression. “Far from it. If you and your buddies want to live, you’ll do as I say.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not going to stand here debating. You’ll get us all killed. Come down in the next minute or I’ll leave you to join your friend,” the man said, pointing toward Jimmy.

  “We can’t get off this platform, can’t see a way down,” Ben said.

  “Look around the edge. There’s a ladder that runs up the side.”

  Ben edged around the corner and looked along the side of the ship. It was a few feet away, rigid, and running from top to bottom. Easy enough to navigate. The view enabled him to get a handle on the size of their craft. Roughly two hundred feet long and seventy high. Colored a dull black but with something painted on the side he couldn’t quite see because of the angle.

  “Get moving, boy,” the man shouted, all humor gone from his voice.

  Ben weighed his options. They couldn’t get back into the ship and needed some form of protection. This man and whoever he was with provided it. They could have shot him, Maria, or Ethan on the platform. It seemed like the Ops team only had one choice.