Erebus: An Apocalyptic Thriller

by Steven Bird

  ~~~~

  Arriving just outside of building 165, McMurdo Station���s Operations, Air Traffic, and Weather Center, a two-story building with two large spherical radar enclosures and numerous antenna arrays, commonly referred to as Mac Ops, the men sat quietly, patiently observing before continuing toward the building.

  Noticing the vast amount of above-ground duct work running into the building from its remote heating source, Dr. Hunter said, ���Let���s work our way to the side of the building via the duct work. That will help keep us from being seen. We can then climb the service ladder to the roof and try to gain entry via the roof access point.���

  ���Pardon me, Dr. Hunter, but how do you know there is a roof access point?��� Neville asked. ���What if we risk our necks to get up there, exposed to all the elements without any sort of wind break, only to find that there is, in fact, no way in?���

  ���Why would there be catwalks around those radomes and antenna arrays if there wasn���t a way to access them?���

  ���Ah, of course,��� Neville replied, embarrassed, but now understanding the obvious. ���Carry on, then.���

  Working their way along the above-ground duct work as Dr. Hunter had suggested, the men found themselves along the side of the building. Looking up at the ladder that reached the entire height of the building, Neville remarked, ���It sure looks higher from here.���

  Looking at him with his head cocked to the side, Mason said, ���Dude, you work on the side of an active volcano, twelve-thousand-five-hundred-feet up. We had to move down the mountain to the Lower Erebus Hut because of the Volkswagen-sized bombs the mountain was spitting out at us, and you see a two-story ladder as high?���

  ���I was thinking about your safety, not mine,��� Neville replied with a grin. ���I���m good with it. I was just making sure you Yanks were up for it.���

  Holding his spear in his hand and then looking back up the ladder, Dr. Hunter said, ���Mason, do you still have that paracord you always carry with you?���

  ���Of course, Doc.���

  ���Your axe will be easy to carry. You can just tuck it under your belt. Our spears, on the other hand, present a different problem. Being made of hollow tubing, if we run paracord through the length of them, then back around the outside for the length of the shaft to the beginning point, we can tie it off and make a sling. Cut both Neville and me off a section about eight feet in length���if you have enough, of course.���

  ���Sure thing, doc,��� Mason said, flipping out his Medford knife.

  ���You���re never without that thing, are you?��� Neville asked.

  ���Nope,��� Mason matter-of-factly replied. ���A climbing buddy of mine in Arizona works at Medford Knife and Tool. It���s a small company and these things aren���t cheap. But if you think about it, when you live life in the most rugged and remote places on Earth, you can���t count on being able to get replacements or sending something in for warranty coverage. Buy it once and be done, I say.���

  ���Now you see why I keep him around,��� Dr. Hunter said as he took his section of paracord and began threading it through his pipe spear to form a sling. Tugging on it and verifying that it was secure, he said, ���This���ll do.���

  Slinging his weapon over his shoulder, Dr. Hunter looked up the ladder and said, ���Don���t make me wait on you too long. It looks windy up there,��� as he began his two-story vertical climb.

  Following closely behind, Mason kept up with Dr. Hunter���s pace as Neville slung his spear and began following suit.

  Having only climbed several rungs, Neville stopped to shift his sling to a more comfortable position when he heard rapidly approaching footsteps to his right. Looking quickly, he saw one of them, one of the afflicted, frothing at the mouth from heavy, aggressive breathing and wearing the sheen of frozen sweat.

  ���Shit!��� he yelled as he scurried up the ladder, only to feel the weight of the man, a former maintenance worker at McMurdo, pulling down on his boot, attempting to rip him from the ladder.

  With no words, merely a primal scream, the crazed man pulled Neville free from the ladder, causing him to come crashing down onto the icy surface below. Winded from the impact, Neville rolled over, struggling to remove his spear as the man, now only feet from him, salivated as if he intended to feast on Neville himself. His eyes were bulging and swollen, bloodshot and red with ruptured capillaries. The tell-tale signs of the microorganisms traced his veins and the sides of his head.

  ���Get away from me!��� Neville shouted as he freed his spear, pointing it at the man.

  As the man let out one final, blood-curdling, primal scream, he began charging at Neville with his teeth exposed and his face full of rage.

  Lunging the spear toward the man, Neville was knocked backward, not by his afflicted attacker, but by Mason as he leaped from the ladder nearly ten feet above.

  Landing on top of the man, Mason drove his knife directly into the top of the man���s skull, ending the man���s rage. Falling on top of him, Mason quickly rolled away and began shedding his thick winter gloves, which were now covered in the man���s infected blood.

  ���Shit! Shit! Shit!��� Mason shouted, tossing his gloves to the side as he checked himself thoroughly for other signs of contamination.

  Running to his side, Neville shouted, ���You���re good, mate! You���re good! It was on your gloves, but nothing else. Your hands are going to freeze soon. You had better scurry on up the ladder while you still have some feeling left in them.���

  Merely nodding in reply, Mason worked his way back up the ladder, quickly catching up with Dr. Hunter who had paused his ascent during the sudden and vicious attack.

  Once all three men had arrived on the roof, Mason shoved his hands into his pockets and said, ���I���ve got to get warmed up, ASAP!���

  Seeing the access door at the midpoint of the building���s roof, Dr. Hunter urged him forward, saying, ���This way!��� as he ran to the door.

  Opening the access door, Dr. Hunter paused and looked inside. Seeing no signs of an immediate threat, he quickly led the others inside.

  ���Shit. My hands,��� Mason said, rubbing them together and blowing on them.

  ���Put them inside your coat,��� Dr. Hunter said. ���But keep rubbing them. Keep the blood moving.���

  ���Whew! Man, you never realize just how long you can���t live without something simple like a glove until you go a few minutes without it,��� Mason said, frantically trying to warm himself.

  ���This place has a thousand and one ways to get you,��� Dr. Hunter said as he attempted to gain his bearings inside the Mac Ops building. Pointing down the hall to his right, he said, ���I think it���s this way.���

  Rushing ahead of the other two men, with Mason still focused on his near-frostbitten hands, Dr. Hunter rounded the corner only to feel something catch him around the neck, yanking him violently into one of the offices on the opposite side of the hall. Hearing the door being kicked violently shut behind him, Dr. Hunter tried to turn to see his attacker as his head bounced off the floor, nearly knocking him unconscious.

  Seeing a large tanto-bladed knife come directly at his face, Dr. Hunter struggled to free his spear, but the weight of his attacker’s body prevented him from using his arms as the spear was lying across him, pinning him to the floor.

  Putting the knife up to Dr. Hunter���s face, the man pushed Dr. Hunter���s goggles out of the way and opened his hood with the cold steel of the blade, nearly grazing his face.

  Looking him over, the man, with an olive drab scarf around his face said in a heavy Russian accent, ���Do you have it?���

  Barely
able to speak due to the constriction of what he could now tell was a rope around his neck, Dr. Hunter muttered the words, ���Have w… wa… what?���

  ���The sickness,��� the man said sternly. ���Do you have it?���

  ���No. No, I don���t. None of our group does,��� he said, hearing Mason and Neville pounding on the door and calling his name.

  ���Tell them if they enter this room without my permission, I will kill you, and then them,��� the man said, reflecting light from the blade of his knife into Dr. Hunter���s eye.

  ���It���s okay!��� Dr. Hunter shouted to Mason and Neville in the hallway. ���Just give us a minute, please.���

  ���I���m going to relax my grip around your throat,��� the man said, tugging on the rope he had used to pull Dr. Hunter into the room, reaffirming the control he had over him at that moment. ���Do not move. Do you understand?���

  ���Yes,��� Dr. Hunter replied.

  ���You will answer questions for me, yes?���

  ���Yes. I���ll do my best,��� Dr. Hunter said, reassuring the man that he would cooperate.

  ���Good.��� Releasing the pressure from the rope, the man moved Dr. Hunter���s spear to the side and said, ���Now, tell me everything.���

  Chapter Twelve

  Crary Lab

  Carefully cracking open the door of room 122, Brett checked the hallway for any sign of threats. ���Looks clear,��� he whispered, stepping out into the hallway alone. After waiting a moment, he motioned for the others to follow.

  Joining up with Brett, Dr. Graves whispered, ���The lounge is on the second floor of the Core Pod.��� Pointing down the hallway to the left, she said, ���Just go through those double-doors, then across the main passageway and through the next set of double-doors. The stairs will then be immediately to your left.���

  Nodding that he understood, Brett motioned the group forward and began quietly slipping down the hall toward the first set of double-doors. Raising his hand to signal the group to stop, he held his ice axe at the ready, carefully pushing one of the swinging doors open. Hearing a loud and aggressive smashing sound against one of the doors behind him, Brett flinched and spun around, ready to defend the group.

  Holding her hand over her heart, recovering from the scare, Dr. Graves said, ���It was Jared. He must hear us.���

  ���Holy shit. That scared me half to death,��� Jenny said, looking around to see that based on the facial expressions from the rest of the group, she wasn���t alone.

  Turning his attention back to the double-doors leading into the main passageway, Brett once again pushed the door open slowly, looked around, and then stepped across and toward the opposing set of double-doors.

  Hearing another violent slam against the door of the room where Dr. Graves had left Jared, the group flinched as Dr. Graves said, ���He���s getting more violent as time passes.���

  Seeing her turn and begin to walk back toward Jared, Brett whispered firmly, ���Dr. Graves. No. Leave him be.���

  ���I… I just wanted to check on him,��� she stammered.

  ���I know. But we���ve got to keep moving,��� he said. Motioning for the group to continue, he once again lead them forward and through the second set of doors.

  Once the group was inside the Core Pod, directly across from the biology pod, they worked their way up the stairs adjacent to the boiler room and to the Core Pod���s second floor. Entering the multi-purpose and lounge area, Brett flipped on the lights to see the familiar body of one of the lab instrument technicians lying awkwardly across a broken coffee table in the break area.

  Holding his hand up to urge caution, Brett walked slowly over to the body as Dr. Duval covered her mouth as her eyes began to well up with tears. ���That���s Cindy. Cindy Wesch. Is she…?���

  Walking closer to her, Brett looked her over, seeing what appeared to be a dislocated jaw and severe blunt force trauma to the left side of her face that had nearly dislodged one of her eyes. Nudging her with his ice axe, he shook his head and said, ���She���s dead.���

  ���So… she���s not infected? She���s not going to…���

  ���No,��� Brett quickly replied. ���She���s dead.���

  ���I don���t understand,��� Walt Perkins said. ���Why is it that some people become infected, and some are simply killed? Why aren���t these things consuming the dead the same as they are the living?���

  ���I was just thinking the same thing,��� Dr. Bentley replied. ���It���s as if the microbes have the ability to be selective of their hosts.���

  ���There���s a lot we don���t understand,��� Dr. Graves explained. ���These life-forms have learned to adapt and thrive in one of the most extreme environments on Earth, nearly totally devoid of any other forms of life. I would imagine they���ve gained the ability to quickly determine the best available energy sources. If you take microscopic or very small parasites, for example, they have been shown to be able to evolve very rapidly due to their short generational cycles. If they are continually reproducing at a rapid rate, they may be quickly adapting to their new environment in ways that give them the ability to be selective and to determine the best host to make their home.

  ���It���s doubtful any ticks try to suck the blood out of a rock or a tree. They know that the deer is a much better host as it passes by. They know they want that fresh, pulsating flow of blood, and they are very adept at finding it and latching on.

  ���In just a few short days, these microbes could have gone through many more generational cycles than we are used to seeing in such a short span of time. This could allow their continuously reproducing offspring to pass along the information needed to target us and seek us out, and specifically, to seek out the warmth and energy-rich blood flow that our bodies provide. Their ability to extract energy from the materials found deep within Erebus has already shown us just how resourceful they can be.���

  ���I would still caution against casual contact with the dead, however,��� Dr. Bentley added. ���Some of the organisms may have made the transfer from the attacker to the victim, only to end up lying dormant until a new and viable heat-generating host comes along.���

  ���That could be the case,��� Dr. Graves answered. ���Especially if the death came quickly, before the eukaryotes began to establish a colony on their host with flowing blood as a rapid transportation system. If there was a large and growing population established before the death of the host, they might not be as able to fall into a dormant stage without the need to continue to consume energy, making their presence more noticeable.���

  ���Okay,��� Brett said. ���We���ll have plenty of time to discuss such things once we���ve secured the area to the best of our ability. Dr. Bentley, if you and Dr. Perkins could help me move the furniture up against the doors, I would appreciate it.���

  ���Do you honestly think a sofa pushed up against a door will stop someone exhibiting such aggressive and violent behavior as what we���ve seen?��� Dr. Bentley asked.

  ���Stop them? No. But it will slow their entry into the room along with alerting us to their presence, allowing us to react,��� Brett replied. ���It���s better than nothing.���

  ���Yes. Yes, indeed,��� Dr. Bentley replied. ���It���s a shame they didn���t install locks on the doors, but then again, the need for such a thing would not have been evident before now. Let���s get on with it, then, Walt,��� he said as the two men began doing as Brett had requested.

  Turning to Dr. Graves, Brett asked, ���Ma���am, if y
ou and Dr. Duval could search the lounge area for any food or anything else that may be of use to us, I would greatly appreciate it. Preferably packaged, unopened food. I don���t have your expertise on the subject of microorganisms, but I would feel better eating only food that has less of a chance of coming in contact with whatever that stuff is.���

  ���That���s sound thinking,��� she replied.

  ���I���ve got to go to the bathroom,��� Dr. Duval said, looking to Brett. ���I need to go before they block the doors. Is the nearest restroom the ones we passed downstairs?���

  Looking to Dr. Graves for an answer, not being as familiar with the facilities at Crary Lab as her, Brett shrugged his shoulders.

  ���Yes, Jenny. It is,��� Dr. Graves replied.

  Thinking her answer over, Brett quickly said, ���That���s out of the question. We all need to stick together. I wouldn���t feel good at all about you going back downstairs.���

  ���Well, I���m not peeing in front of you guys, and I really have to go,��� she said. ���I can take care of myself.���

  ���Jenny,��� Dr. Graves said, giving her a look of concern. ���Can���t you go on the mezzanine across the hall? That���s private enough, and you���ll still be on the second floor with us. I agree with Brett about sticking together.���

  Pausing for a moment, Dr. Duval said, ���Yes, that will work. I guess we���re long past the need for our customary ways of doing things. Propriety needs to take a back seat here. I guess it will be like camping, but indoors,��� she said with a half-hearted chuckle.

  ���Hurry,��� Brett said. ���I mean, please hurry, okay?���

  ���You can bet I won���t want to be out there for much longer than I have to,��� she replied.

  With Dr. Bentley holding the door open for her, Jenny Duval stepped out of the room, and crossed over to the second-floor mezzanine above the biology pod. She then slipped behind the water tanks and the reverse osmosis system equipment, in search of adequate privacy for her needs.