Erebus: An Apocalyptic Thriller

by Steven Bird

  Wiping a tear from her eye, Dr. Graves took a deep breath, gathered her composure, and said, ���Thank you, Gerald. I do promise to devote what���s left of my life to the eradication of those microbial bastards. My complicity in their release from Erebus may have been accidental, but my devotion to sending them back to Hell where they belong will be unrelenting.���

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Vasily���s Bunker

  As the day passed, the group hidden away beneath the construction storage warehouse began to fear for their friends who had ventured out in search of a PistenBully, which was their only hope for reaching Black Island.

  ���They should have been back by now,��� Dr. Graves said with anxiety in her voice. ���I���m going nuts just sitting here waiting, doing nothing.���

  ���There���s no way to know how long it should take them, given the circumstances,��� replied Dr. Perkins.

  ���He���s right,��� Brett said. ���They may have to hole up in several spots along the way, looking for windows of opportunity. We can���t assume they could just stroll right up to the heavy vehicle facility, fire one up, and drive away. All we can do is rest up and wait. Speaking of which, have you eaten anything?���

  ���No,��� Dr. Graves replied. ���My stomach is in knots right now.���

  ���I���m sure it is,��� he said. ���But you���ll need your strength for what lies ahead. All of us will.���

  Igniting the kerosene heater, sending a puff of fumes and the soft glow of red light throughout the room, Brett searched Vasily���s supplies and quickly produced an unopened case of snack crackers. ���Who wants peanut butter and who wants cheese?���

  ���Peanut butter!��� Dr. Perkins quickly replied, catching a pack of crackers tossed to him by Brett.

  ���I���ll take peanut butter, as well,��� replied Dr. Bentley.

  ���Tasha, what would you like? Peanut butter or cheese?��� Brett asked, holding up a pack of each.

  Reluctantly, Tasha replied, ���I���ll have cheese.���

  ���Dr. Graves? If you want peanut butter, you���d better claim some before these two pigs scarf it all up,��� Brett said in jest.

  Exhaling loudly, Dr. Graves replied, ���Peanut butter, I suppose.���

  Handing her the pack of crackers, Brett set the case aside and said, ���It could be worse,��� as he began devouring a pack of cheese-filled crackers.���

  ���Yes. Yes, it could,��� Dr. Perkins replied.

  ���So,��� Brett said, working his way up to saying something.

  ���So, what?��� Dr. Perkins replied.

  ���Are you ready to set out? If it becomes necessary, that is. Perhaps we should work on a game plan���a route or something?���

  ���They���ll be back!��� Dr. Graves snarled.

  ���I… I���m sorry. I was just������

  ���No, I���m sorry,��� she said. ���My mind is running rampant. I don���t think I���ve ever felt so stressed in my life. When I was a child, my mother was seriously ill for quite some time. My father had to work two jobs to keep us financially afloat, as well as to pay for her medical care. I was only twelve, but the responsibility of running the household and caring for my mother fell to me while my father worked.

  ���At first, it nearly broke me. The stress of it all, a stress no twelve-year-old girl should ever feel, piled up on me with a weight I thought I could not bear. Then, one day, my father sat down to tell me that the doctors had done all they could, but my mother would soon leave us and this world forever.

  ���That night, I cried as I had never cried before. All of the stress came flowing out in my tears like an unrelenting flood. The next morning, I woke up a different person. The fragile twelve-year-old of the previous day was gone. She had been replaced in the night by a strong young woman who would dutifully care for her mother until her end, and for her father, who would pass just a few years later.

  ���The stress I feel right now is reminiscent of the stress felt by that little girl when she first learned her mother would soon die. Only now, I can���t see into the future. Back then, my fears of a world without my mother chewed on my stomach with ferocity. Now, though, I can���t even fathom a world in the future at all. All I see in my future is darkness, empty darkness.���

  As the group sat in silence, contemplating the depth of Dr. Graves��� feelings and the bleak picture she painted for them all, they heard a rumble off in the distance.

  ���Is that them?��� Tasha asked.

  ���That���s not a PistenBully,��� replied Dr. Perkins. ���That sounds like Ivan.���

  ���Ivan?��� she asked.

  ���Ivan the Terra Bus!��� he replied with excitement in his voice, referring to the near sixty-thousand-pound bus, fitted with six huge tires that are nearly six-feet in height. The massive bus with a personality of its own was used to transport passengers to and from the transport aircraft that would come and go on McMurdo���s nearby ice runway.

  Scurrying up the ladder, Dr. Perkins shouted, ���Pull the cord!���

  Pulling the cord as requested, Brett felt the cart begin to roll away from the door as Dr. Perkins shoved it open, and hurried into the building overhead.

  Following close behind, the group ran to the door of the storage building, opening it to see the large, red and white, fat-tired bus barreling toward them. As it approached their location, its six large tires locked up, causing the massive vehicle to slide to an ungraceful stop.

  As the door opened, Mason shouted, ���Come on! Hurry!���

  Doing as he asked, everyone rushed on board as Dr. Bentley said, ���Careful! The traps! And Provisions! We need to bring our provisions!���

  Turning to assist him, Brett and Dr. Bentley retrieved their pre-packed provisions from down below and rushed onto the bus, just as a horde of the infected could be seen off in the distance to the northwest.

  Running up to Mason, Dr. Graves frantically asked, ���Where is Dr. Hunter? Is he okay? What happened?���

  ���He���s fine, and so is Vasily,��� Mason replied. ���They���re both fine.���

  As the door closed behind them, Brett and Dr. Bentley tossed their sacks of food onto an empty passenger seat and sat down as Mason sped away, leaving a cloud of white mist behind them as the three-hundred-horsepower Caterpillar turbo-diesel engine moved the great bus with authority.

  Speeding away, Dr. Graves worked her way to the back of the bus and observed the infected in their futile attempt to give chase. Joining alongside her, Dr. Bentley sat in the seat across the aisle from her.

  ���Their body mechanics seem to be improving,��� she said.

  ���Yes, I do believe so,��� he replied. ���It���s quite a different scene from the stumbling beasts we encountered at the beginning of it all.���

  ���Their motor skills, their organization, their obvious ability to work in unison with one another in coordinated efforts that all seem pre-planned���it���s shocking.���

  ���Terrifying is more like it,��� Dr. Bentley replied. ���Just how does one contain such a thing? Especially back in the unfrozen world where life has every opportunity. I���ve often wondered if we were back in England right now, would these buggers be able to infect and control a fox in the same way that they control humans here? Or heaven forbid, a bear? Would humans be their vehicle of choice if this place was not so frozen and desolate?���

  ���You���re not alone in that line of questioning,��� she replied. ���Here, you can go for miles without seeing life. That���s
what kept them contained deep within Erebus. They themselves couldn���t survive outside of the fumaroles, much less anything else. That kept them from making the leap. There are places on this Earth where there isn���t a square inch that doesn���t contain life. Can they take it all over? Can they control a simple caterpillar or field mouse? The possibilities are maddening.���

  ���Dr. Graves! Dr. Bentley!��� Brett shouted from the front of the bus.

  Turning to see Brett motioning for them, Dr. Graves said, ���We���d better go see what they want. Ivan the Terra Bus wasn���t part of the plan, so who knows what changed?���

  With a nod, Dr. Bentley followed Dr. Graves to the group gathered at the front of the bus.

  Gathering around Mason, who was still driving the bus at a rather quick pace, Brett, Tasha, Dr. Perkins, Dr. Graves, and Dr. Bentley listened intently as Mason explained, ���We ran into a little trouble. There must have been a hell of a lot of those bastards hunkered down in the berthing buildings. When we fired up the PistenBully, they came pouring out toward us like fire ants.���

  Swerving to miss the above-ground pipeline leading from the diesel storage tanks into Mac-Town, Mason continued, ���Ivan fired right up. You���ve just gotta love a Cat diesel. Anyway, I charged at the group and then swerved away, leading them off behind me, giving Dr. Hunter and Vasily a chance to get the PistenBully out of there. PistenBullys aren���t all that fast. They could have been overrun without a diversion. They probably still had to fight off some of them, but at least the herd followed Ivan. I guess they instinctively went after the bigger target.���

  ���Ivan has the potential to fit a lot more of their meals inside,��� added Dr. Perkins.

  With a crooked grin, Mason chuckled and said, ���Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, we���re gonna meet up with the PistenBully just outside the southeast corner of Mac-Town. They���ve gotta take the long way around to avoid being followed, so it may take some time for them to meet up with us. For now, just enjoy Ivan���s warmth and comfort. The PistenBully will be cramped with all of us onboard, and it���s a rough ride compared to Ivan. Spread out and relax while you can.���

  Approaching their planned rally point, Mason brought Ivan the Terra Bus to a stop and kept the engine running at idle, both to be ready to depart in an emergency and to provide power for heat.

  Joining the rest of the group in the passenger seating area, Mason sat down as Dr. Bentley asked, ���If Ivan has so much more room, why not take him to Black Island?���

  Speaking up, Brett said, ���The trip to Black Island is way too rough for Ivan. There is a reason they only use helicopters and PistenBullys to routinely travel that way.���

  ���I don���t get it,��� Tasha asked. ���Why do they keep all of the communications equipment so far away from McMurdo? I mean, doesn���t that just make things harder for them?���

  ���It���s the location of Mount Erebus in relation to McMurdo,��� Mason replied. ���Being nearly twelve-thousand-five-hundred feet tall, the mountain creates too much of a barrier, considering our low southern latitude of seventy-seven degrees. At this latitude, communication satellites are visible very low on the horizon, not straight up, which means Erebus is directly in the path between Mac-Town and the satellites. Black Island is situated in a place that gives it the ideal line of sight to the same satellites.���

  Shaking her head, Tasha replied, ���This place is nuts.���

  ���Which is why it���s filled with nuts like us,��� he replied with a smile. ���There is a reason so many of us feel at home down here on the bottom of the world.���

  As the conversation began to wind down, Mason looked at his watch and said, ���I���d imagine they���ll be here any time now.���

  ���How much fuel is in this thing?��� Brett asked.

  ���About a quarter of a tank,��� replied Mason. ���We didn���t really have time to check off all the boxes before we got the hell outta there.���

  ���What���s plan B?��� Dr. Perkins asked.

  ���Plan B?��� Mason queried.

  ���Yes, plan B. You know, if they don���t arrive. We can���t assume anything around here anymore.���

  Thinking it over in his head, Mason replied, ���Well, it will be dark before we know it, thanks to these damn short daylight hours. Once it is, we will be required to keep Ivan running to keep the heat going, or we���ll freeze to death. If it runs all night on a quarter tank, we won���t have enough to make it very far. We���d better hope they make it. I sure would hate to have to return to Mac-Town in search of fuel after seeing those things pour out of those berthing buildings like that.���

  ���Based on what Vasily said, the berthing buildings were serving as their hive or colony,��� Dr. Graves replied. ���It makes sense that a major concentration of them would be located there.���

  ���Yes, but now that we know the sheer numbers of them, I���d rather not tangle with them again, if I can help it. We don���t have enough ammo to deal with them all. Evidently, a lot more people were left behind at Mac-Town than we initially thought.���

  Shaking his head, not wanting to think about how many of the infected or the digested are, or were, friends of his, Mason said, ���I���m gonna stand watch for a while. Someone relieve me in a couple of hours if nothing happens.���

  Standing up, Mason took his rifle and walked quietly to the back of the bus where he leaned back against the side of the bus with his legs outstretched across the seat, and simply began gazing out the rear window toward town.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Outskirts of McMurdo Station

  As the last remaining rays of the day’s sun disappeared over the horizon, Dr. Graves folded some of her research notes she had been carrying, placed them securely in her pocket, and mumbled, ���Where are you, Nathan? Where the hell are you?��� as she looked into the darkness beyond her frost-covered bus window.

  Tasha, looking nervous as she cuddled up in one of Ivan���s bench seats, asked, ���So, what���s to keep those things from just walking up on us in the middle of the night?���

  ���Well, the cold, I would imagine,��� Dr. Graves replied. ���We���re quite a distance from any source of heat out here. When you factor that with the extreme cold of the nights this time of year, or any time of year here for that matter, the human hosts that the microbes, or parasites, or���whatever we choose to call them in the long run���have limitations. The bodies of their hosts would freeze solid before reaching us. Remember, that���s what kept them confined to the fumaroles of Erebus. The lifeless expanse of cold was their prison.���

  ���I still can���t help but wonder what���s standing on the other side of this window right now,��� Tasha replied.

  Answering with only a reassuring smile, Dr. Graves closed her eyes and attempted to fight off the demons of her mind.

  ~~~~

  Startled by a tap on the shoulder, Brett sat up quickly as Mason said, ���Shhhh. I was just hoping you could relieve me for a while. Everyone else is asleep, and no one has offered to give me a break.���

  ���Oh, yeah, man. Of course,��� Brett replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. ���I hear that the engine is still running. I guess that���s a good thing.���

  ���Yep, but we���re down to an eighth of a tank of fuel. The prospect of Ivan running into the morning isn���t looking all that good. He���s using more fuel at idle than I had guessed. To make things worse, it���s so cold out, if we shut him down to save fuel, he may not start back up, regardless of fuel quantity.���

  ���Better j
ust keep him running, then,��� Brett said as he stood and stretched.

  With a yawn, Mason said, ���Yep, I don���t think we really have a choice. We���ll freeze without the engine, or run her, uh, I mean him, out of fuel if we keep it running.���

  ���If we run out of fuel, hopefully, it will be after sunrise,��� Brett replied, taking the rifle from Mason. ���Get some sleep, bud. Tomorrow probably won���t be any easier than today.���

  ���If recent history is any indicator, it will be worse,��� Mason said as he lay down on an empty seat, pulling his parka over him for a blanket.

  After several hours of dutifully standing watch, Brett heard a crunching sound coming from the darkness of Ivan���s interior. Looking to the source of the sound, he stood to look, and heard, ���Sorry,��� from Dr. Perkins��� familiar voice. ���Crackers. I couldn���t sleep with a rumble of hunger in my gut.���

  Laughing quietly, Brett replied, ���Okay, I was just making sure it wasn���t something eating one of you.���

  ���It���s insane that such a thing could even be a reality,��� Dr. Perkins replied.

  ���We humans have been sheltered for too long,��� Brett said, turning back toward the window and admiring the brilliant, colorful glow of the aurora australis.

  ���I mean, every other creature on Earth, with a few exceptions at the top of their respective food chains, is always in fear of being eaten. And those that are at the top of their food chain are in fear of being killed by us. We���ve just been spoiled, sitting at the top for so long. And that is only due to technology. There are still plenty of things out there, besides the infected, that would be more than glad to have us for lunch. Yes, we are spoiled.���

  Pointing to the sky, he continued, ���Take the aurora australis here, for example. Both the northern and southern lights are a reminder of just how lucky we are. If the Earth didn���t have its gigantic rotating iron core, creating the magnetosphere that protects us from the constant bombardment of energized particles blasting through space, our atmosphere would have been stripped away long ago, much like Mars. We are spoiled in many ways, or were, at least. It appears our luck on this planet may be running out, though.���