Erebus: An Apocalyptic Thriller

by Steven Bird

  Tugging on Dr. Hunter���s arm, Dr. Graves said, ���Nathan, Brett and I are going to try and find tissue samples from the remains of the infected. We will need to travel toward the berthing area, since that was where the mass concentration was, including the hive-like mass that Vasily described.���

  ���Absolutely not,��� Dr. Hunter replied. ���We need to get the fuel and get out of here.���

  ���What good is escaping if we can���t answer the questions we need to answer once we reach the Falklands? I need samples from the microbes in their most advanced form to fill in the gaps in my research.���

  Looking at Brett, Dr. Hunter knew he wasn���t going to talk them out of it, as Brett said, ���We���re going, Doc. That���s that. I was with her when we discovered these microbial monsters, and I���m gonna be there with her until we see it through.���

  ���Okay,��� he said, going against his gut. ���But make it quick.���

  ���We will need everyone else to help lift barrels from below,��� Vasily said. ���Are underground. Like bunker.���

  ���We���ll be fine,��� Brett said as he and Dr. Graves turned to begin working their way toward the remains of the berthing buildings.

  In a firm tone, Dr. Hunter insisted, ���Well, then for God���s sake, take a rifle. Brett, you just stand watch while she works. You can���t afford for both of you to get distracted out there alone.���

  Looking to each other, Dr. Graves and Dr. Hunter shared a look of uncertainty. As Brett took one of the AR-15���s from the PistenBully, Dr. Graves gave a final nod to the group and turned to follow along with Brett. Disappearing into the thick, black smoke that emanated from the burning debris that was now casting an ominous shadow over McMurdo Station, the two were gone in an instant.

  Watching Linda and Brett walk away, disappearing into the haze of the smoke, Dr. Hunter���s stomach was in knots with the fear of what may come. In this new world, he had learned that death was around every corner. Unlike before, when he and his friends and family lived in the relative safety and security provided by the seemingly permanent protection of living in the first world, he and the friends alongside him faced a never-ending threat. Would they die from exposure to the extreme elements of Antarctica? Would they die a violent death at the hands of the infected, or even now, at the hand of the world governments that sought to eradicate the source of the outbreak? Or would they simply starve to death, stranded on the ice, after having successfully survived the myriad dangers they had encountered?

  Watching her and Brett walk away left him feeling vulnerable, as if the outcome of the group was now more uncertain than ever. Now that they had met Mark Robinson, they had a chance, a hope of getting off the ice and returning to a more habitable climate, even if it wasn���t home. He didn���t want anyone else to succumb to the dangers that constantly presented themselves, but he knew she was right. Without risks and without taking chances to gain what she must in order to achieve her goals, all of their efforts might be for naught. If they couldn���t help save the world from the doom that was sweeping across it like a wildfire, what would be the point of living, anyway?

  Shaking his head, snapping out of his momentary trance-like state, Dr. Hunter heard Vasily talking with the others. Vasily said, ���We move debris, then dig.���

  ���Dig?��� Mason asked.

  ���Yes. Dig. Thirty to forty centimeters of ice and snow over entrance,��� Vasily replied, pointing underneath the former storage building���s wall panels that now lay flat on the ice.

  Pulling the emergency pickaxe and shovel off the PistenBully, Mason and Mark began to chip away at the frozen surface while Vasily, Dr. Perkins, and Dr. Bentley began dragging the remnants of the building out of the way.

  Seeing Tasha shivering in the extreme cold, Vasily said, ���You stand lookout. Keep us safe. You can do that from inside PistenBully. Bang on window if see something.���

  Nodding in reply, shivering too hard to speak, Tasha quickly took Vasily up on his offer and climbed back inside their vehicle.

  Reaching approximately one foot in depth, Mason���s pickaxe struck something, causing his pickaxe to bounce off, making a metallic thud sound. ���Is door,��� Vasily said. ���Keep digging.���

  ���Mason,��� Mark said. ���If you chip away at it, I���ll shovel your bits of ice out of the way. It���ll go faster if we work as a team, instead of randomly digging away.���

  Nodding in agreement, Mason followed Mark���s request and the two began to make steady progress, uncovering an industrial yellow metal door.

  ���Was door of old diesel generator housing,��� Vasily said. ���I use for roof and door of storage.���

  ���How did you dig this?��� Mason asked.

  ���Many hours working in cold,��� Vasily replied. ���Weather in winter-over bad, but very few people. Get much work done if willing to freeze and work in dark. Also, no one around to see what I do with equipment.���

  ���You���re something else, Vasily,��� Mason said, smiling under his extreme weather face mask.

  Feeling the sweat they had worked up begin to crystallize on their skin, Mark said, ���We���ve got to get back inside the PistenBully soon. We���re going to get frost bite.���

  ���I hope Dr. Graves and Brett are okay out in this,��� Dr. Hunter said, still distracted by their absence.

  ���Maybe they���ll luck out and find a bit of warmth from a still smoldering building,��� said Dr. Bentley, trying to ease his friend���s worries.

  Taking the pickaxe from Mason, Vasily began prying on the door, breaking it free from the frozen grip of the ice around it. Lifting the door open, the men could see fifteen, fifty-five-gallon steel barrels down in the crude, icy pit.

  ���How long have you been storing this?��� Mark asked.

  ���Since last winter-over,��� Vasily said. ���Is stabilized. Is good,��� he said, nodding to assure Mark that it would be suitable for their needs.

  ���How in heaven���s name do we get it back to the airplane?��� Dr. Bentley asked.

  ���Make skid out of building walls,��� Vasily said, pointing at the debris. ���We pull with tow chain. Use straps to keep barrels on.���

  ���Well, let���s get to it, then,��� Dr. Hunter said as he turned to retrieve the tow chain and straps from the PistenBully.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  McMurdo Station

  As they worked their way through the blinding smoke, Brett and Dr. Hunter stuck closely to one another to avoid being separated in the eerie, low-visibility conditions.

  ���Of all the times I cursed the wind, I wish it was blowing now to clear some of this smoke,��� Brett said with a cough.

  Clearing her throat, irritated by the bitter fumes, Dr. Graves asked, ���Do you recognize anything?���

  ���It���s hard to make anything out. They really hit this place hard.���

  Nearly stumbling on a piece of a curved, white structure, Dr. Graves said, ���What is this?���

  Looking around, trying to focus his eyes as they burned from the fumes of smoldering insulation and building materials, Brett pointed to the side, and said, ���That looks like the siding material that was on Mac Ops. I would assume that���s a piece of one of the large antenna-dome structures that was mounted on the roof.���

  ���I guess we have a rough idea where we are, then,��� she replied.

  ���So, what���s our goal?��� he asked.

  ���I want to get to the berthing complex. I need to get a sample or two from the hive-like area Vasily described. That���s pro
bably the peak stage of their development.���

  ���One can hope,��� Brett replied, hesitant to assume the microbial menace wouldn���t continue to rapidly evolve and adapt past what they had already witnessed. Regaining his bearings, he pointed and said, ���If this is, or was, Mac Ops, we need to head that way, if I am oriented correctly.���

  Continuing along the path he directed, Dr. Graves and Brett worked their way through the debris. Pointing down, Brett said, ���This looks like the heating ductwork that led to the dormitory, or, um, berthing buildings. I forget they use Navy lingo since this used to be a U.S. Naval facility.���

  Following along the trail of debris, the smoke began to clear as the two got further from the burning residue in what used to be the station���s fuel storage tanks.

  Exiting the smoke, Brett grabbed Dr. Graves by the arm as she began moving forward with urgency in her steps.

  ���What? What is it?��� she asked, anxious to get her samples and get back to the others.

  ���Let���s not be too hasty,��� he replied. ���Let���s observe for a minute. The dorm buildings were not completely destroyed. They were hit, but it appears not as directly as the rest of the station. There are plenty hiding places in that rubble.���

  Standing there, still and silent, Brett and Dr. Graves visually scanned the area. The berthing buildings, formerly the lodging facilities for the researchers and staff of McMurdo Station, were mostly destroyed, yet heaping piles of debris still stood at the structures that had received only indirect hits.

  Brett���s eyes darted all over the areas where he felt there was sufficient room for a man-sized threat to remain sheltered from the elements. Not seeing any signs of movement, he said, ���Well, what do you think?���

  ���The hive-like mass would be toward the center of a building, based on Vasily���s accounts.���

  ���Logic would dictate, assuming of course, that logic was involved, that the main colony would want to be located in not only the center of a structure but also the center of the complex. Let���s start with the rubble in the center and go from there,��� she said, pointing.

  Taking his rifle off his shoulder, Brett checked to ensure a round was in the chamber and that the magazine was fully seated. Positioning it at the low ready, he followed alongside Dr. Graves, continuously scanning their surroundings for movement.

  Standing on the edge of a pile of debris as Dr. Graves began climbing through it, looking for what she needed, Brett dutifully stood watch. Turning toward her, he asked, ���Do you see anything?���

  ���Too much heat went through here. Everything is charred. Let���s look at the one that���s partially standing.���

  ���I was afraid you were gonna say that,��� Brett replied.

  ���What? What���s wrong?��� she asked.

  ���If I were a host for an army of man-eating microbes, that���s where I���d be looking for shelter from the elements.���

  Thinking his statement over, she replied, ���It looks to me like the airstrikes did their job. There���s nothing left alive. This may be a bust for us.���

  Following Dr. Graves to the next building at the far end of the complex, Brett scanned the area as she approached the remains of partially standing structure. As she began to climb through the debris on the outer edges, she said with excitement in her voice, ���Come look at this!���

  ���What is it?���

  ���It looks like a mass of that sticky, web-like structure that Vasily described.���

  Retrieving a sample jar from her bag, Dr. Graves used a piece of metal debris to tear a piece free. Scraping the sticky material into her container, she tossed the now-contaminated piece of debris aside and screwed the lid on tight. ���The webbing in that material seems to have a very high tensile strength for an organic material, which I assume is made of living, or formerly living, cellular structures.���

  Climbing further into the debris, Dr. Graves began looking for other types of samples when she heard Brett say, ���You���re making me nervous.���

  Looking back, she said, ���Nervous, why?���

  ���Because the further you go into that pile of rubble and beams, the longer it will take you to get out in a hurry.���

  ���Let���s just hope I don���t have a need to get out of here in a hurry,��� she replied.

  ~~~~

  Meanwhile, at Vasily���s underground fuel storage location, the men were feverishly working to fashion a drag sled out of the building materials they had available.

  ���Walls make good skid,��� Vasily said. ���Mason, use pickaxe to poke holes for chain along this edge.���

  ���That should work nicely,��� Dr. Bentley said, admiring Vasily���s resourcefulness. ���The corrugation of the metal sheeting will do nicely to both help reduce drag by reducing the surface area making contact with the ground, as well as aiding in directional stability. We wouldn���t want our last hope to be flailing about behind us uncontrollably.���

  Pulling the pickaxe free from the metal, Mason said, ���Here ya go.���

  ���Good��� Is Good,��� Vasily replied as he began weaving the chain in and out of the holes across the leading edge of the wall material. Bringing the hook on the end of the chain out of the final hole, he pulled the chain, adjusting it to where it could be hooked onto itself in the center of the width of the metal sheeting, forming a coat-hanger-type shape that would provide even load distribution throughout the skid. From the hook where the chain met at the neck of the coat hanger, Vasily then ran the remainder of the chain in a straight line toward the PistenBully, and said, ���Dr. Hunter. Please back vehicle to chain.���

  Replying with a nod, Dr. Hunter climbed aboard the PistenBully and backed it into position following Vasily���s hand signals.

  Bringing the vehicle to a stop upon seeing Vasily���s clenched fist, Dr. Hunter reached for the door handle as he heard Tasha ask, ���Do you think this will work?���

  With a reassuring smile, Dr. Hunter replied, ���If you���re going to have to go through a catastrophic event such as this, there are never any guarantees. But if you must, it���s best to be with a man such as Vasily. I have every faith that we���ll pull it all together and make it out of here in one piece.���

  Responding with only a smile, Tasha turned her attention back to the world outside the Pistenbully���s window, dutifully scanning the area for threats.

  Joining the other men behind the vehicle, Dr. Hunter approached as Vasily pointed and said, ���Climb down in hole and help lift barrels out.���

  Doing as they were asked, Mason and Dr. Perkins climbed down into the hole, and said, ���Um, guys. We���re gonna need some help down here.���

  ���Oh, of course,��� Dr. Bentley replied. Climbing into the hole alongside them, Dr. Bentley looked to the others and said, ���Hand me the end of one of those straps. Young Mason, Walt and I will work it around the barrel and tie it off, then as we begin to lift, you chaps can pull. Perhaps with such a joint effort, we can lug this heavy bastard out of here.���

  Lifting as hard as they could, Mason, Dr. Perkins, and Dr. Bentley got the barrel to begin tilting upward as the others began to pull. ���There we go, mates!��� Dr. Bentley said. ���I do believe it is working.���

  As the heavy barrel of fuel slid onto the surface above, Dr. Perkins quickly climbed up, removed the strap, and with the help of Mark, began rolling it to the skid. Tossing the strap back down to Mason and Dr. Bentley, Vasily and Dr. Hunter helped them ready the next barrel for retrieval.

  Looking up to Vasily, Mason asked, ���How in the hell did you exp
ect to get these out of here by yourself?���

  ���I never plan to be alone,��� he replied. ���Also, I assumed I would have front end loaders and other vehicles if I ever needed to recover fuel. I not anticipate bombs from planes would destroy equipment. In the event I alone, would use pumps, not lift barrels.���

  Once the last of the barrels had been pushed and heaved to the surface, the men rolled it into position and began strapping them together on their makeshift sled with the ratchet straps from the PistenBully.

  Tugging hard on the straps, then shoving on the barrels, Vasily said, ���Is good. Will work.���

  Placing his hands on his hips, Dr. Hunter looked around and said, ���I think I had better go look for Linda and Brett.���

  Shaking his head, Vasily said, ���No! Absolutely not. No sooner than you would leave, they would return. Then we would have to send help to find you. No. We wait. Wait for their return or sign.���

  ���Sign of what?��� Dr. Hunter asked.

  Pausing before he replied, Vasily said, ���We will all know when and if it comes.���

  ~~~~

  Looking around nervously, Brett mumbled to himself, ���Come on. Come on. You���re taking too long,��� as he looked back over his shoulder to see Dr. Graves climbing and sifting through the rubble.

  ���I think I���ve got it!��� she said.

  ���Got what?���

  ���There���s a body. I believe she was infected. She���s frozen stiff, so the material I need for a host sample during the advanced stage should be well preserved.���

  Turning to Brett, she shouted, ���Come give me a hand.���

  Placing his index finger over his lips, he replied, ���Okay, but don���t be so loud.���

  ���From the looks of it, the airstrikes were quite successful in eradicating them,��� she said as she turned back to the body to find that the hand was no longer there.

  ���What the hell?��� she mumbled as her boot was pulled violently into the pile of broken timber and building materials.