by RM Brewer
Fester reached over and switched the channel on the radio, turning the dial slowly.
Claire expected to hear details of the military launching their offensive, but the only sound was a steady stream of static. “Fester, I was thinking, maybe we should get in another tank and get out of here. I mean, we used up a lot of gas and I'd like to have more of a reserve. Sooner or later, they’re gonna send someone to stop us. Maybe we should just take off into the desert and wait for Jodie to call.”
Fester nodded. “What does it look like on the other side of the runway?”
Claire spun the tank turret around so she could see across the runway out of the viewing window. The other tanks sat untouched, waiting. “Looks great. I think the crazies are too enthralled with the big campfire we set, so they’re ignoring the weaponry.” Everywhere she looked, virals ran through the fire, their bodies blazing, glowing in the late afternoon light. They tackled each other, wild for violence, ripping and tearing each other to shreds. Claire felt a chill travel up her spine. She jumped in her seat as Fester spoke.
“So, let’s go get a fresh one while they’re busy,” Fester said. “I’m sorry, did I scare you?”
Claire shook her head. “No, Fester." She pointed toward the viewing window. “That’s what scares me.”
Fester unbuckled his seat belt and pulled himself closer to her. “They’re all turning on each other. Whoa, look at that.” Fester pointed toward a group of virals tearing at each other, pieces of burning bodies flying through the air in all directions, being picked up and consumed by other virals. “It’s like some sort of barbecue gone way wrong.”
“God, that’s gross, Fester . . . very accurate, though, but really gross.” Claire wanted to throw up, seeing the virals consuming each other. “So much for the super in super viral, hey?”
“I bet they’d like coleslaw with that,” Fester muttered, no indication of humor anywhere in his voice.
Claire felt a laugh building in her and couldn’t hold it. “Did . . .” She tried to catch her breath, but couldn’t, being overcome by fits of laughter. “Did you actually say coleslaw?” Tears streamed from her eyes and she let out the pent up emotion she’d held all day. “Coleslaw . . . Fester, you’re too much.”
Fester wiped his face, wet with tears from laughing at his own joke.
Claire realized they were both exhausted and probably in some sort of shock. She was pretty sure that making jokes about burning infected people wasn’t really appropriate, but what was? After all, she hadn’t expected to live through the day, yet here they were, watching the virals exterminate themselves. It was a sight she’d never dreamed she’d witness, even in her nightmares. She wiped her eyes and looked out, the fires seeming to burn brighter in the dimming light. “It’s getting dark. We need to go and get us a new tank before the sun goes down. Strap in, Fester.”
Fester buckled up. “Do you think we should call Chuck and Jodie? You know, just to see how they’re doing?”
Claire eased the breaks off and throttled up, steering in the direction of the other tanks. “Yeah, sure, why don’t you give it a try?”
Fester grabbed the two-way radio from his backpack and pressed the button. “Jodie, Chuck, come in. Over.” He released the button and was met with static.
Looking through the viewing pane, Claire could see the ship still hovering over the loading ramp at the far side of the base, its massive structure blotting out the sky above. Chuck and Jodie had been inside for a considerable amount of time already. She hoped they were okay.
“Chuck, are you there?” Fester asked, anxiety clearly evident in his tone.
Claire knew by his tone that he was worried about Chuck and Jodie. She was, too. They should be out by now, but who knew what they’d run into on the ship?
“They might not be able to answer right now,” Claire said. “We’re almost to the tanks anyway.”
Claire panned back and forth, looking for any sign of virals. Then, she pulled alongside a tank, as closely as she thought possible. Best to not have to be out there too long, she thought. “Okay, are you ready to go?”
Fester slid the two-way radio into his backpack. He grabbed his gun. “Yeah. We only have three bullets left, though.”
Claire set the breaks and shut the tank off. Other than the muffled backdrop of screaming virals and exploding buildings, all was quiet. “Okay, well, hopefully, we won’t need any of them. Let’s move fast.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and stood in the cramped space. Fester stood up about halfway and slid his backpack on. “Ready?” Claire asked.
“Ready,” Fester said, his expression serious.
She stepped up on the ladder, flipped the hatch release and spun the wheel. “Here we go.” Claire pushed the hatch up slowly and peeked outside. “Looks clear. Let’s do this fast. Stay close to me, Fester.”
“I will,” Fester called up to her.
For a second, Claire wondered if she was more scared for herself than for Fester. Who was protecting who? In the end, did it matter? If Jodie and Chuck weren’t successful, they’d all be facing death anyway. She pushed the hatch up and pulled herself onto the deck of the tank. Looking around and seeing no virals near, Claire leaned over the hatch. “It’s clear. Come on up.”
They were parked so close to another tank that they could jump from one set of tracks to the next. “C’mon,” Claire said, turning and jumping, landing on the tracks of the other tank. She crawled up to the hatch and spun the wheel. “Help me with this, Fester.” But, Fester wasn’t next to her. “Fester, get a move on.” Claire turned back to see where he was. He was halfway out of the hatch of their tank, staring at something, not moving.
Then, she heard it, the deep raspy breath of a viral, its mucous-filled throat growling low. The viral’s head popped up over the side of the tank where Fester was, frozen in place. How had she missed seeing it? The viral crouched, ready to spring. Fester was slowly raising his gun out of the tank hatch, but he wasn’t in a position to shoot. Her heart felt like it stopped for a moment as she held her breath. She’d have to get its attention so Fester would have more time. Claire jumped back to the other tank. “Over here, you ugly bastard,” she screamed, waving her arms.
The viral didn't hesitate. Claire had just lowered her arms and was about to run when it hit her full force, slamming her back into the tank, knocking the wind out of her. Her vision blackened. Little pinpricks of white light were all she could see. Claire took in a deep gulp of air and shoved at the viral with all her might, trying to hold it back. She had her hands around its neck and its jaws snapped, spewing a hot foul breath in her face. “Fester, help,” she screamed.
A shadow passed over her and the viral’s head exploded into a thousand pieces, spraying out to the side. The crack of the gunshot against its head pounded Claire’s eardrums. As the thing fell off of her, she slammed her hands over her ringing ears, feeling blood on her face. Whose was it? The viral’s or her own? Claire pulled her hands away, looking for something to wipe them on when Fester grabbed hold of her arm and started dragging her.
“Wait,” Claire said, wiping the blood on her pants.
“We can’t,” Fester yelled. “They’re here.”
Claire’s knees buckled, seeing a wave of virals rushing toward them. Then, she felt herself being lifted up and dropped into the tank. On the way down, her foot caught in the ladder and she spun, twisting her ankle violently. She tried to move out of Fester’s way as he followed close behind.
Just as he was lowering the hatch, his entire body lifted up. The virals were pulling him out of the tank by the back of his jacket. Claire launched herself upwards with her one good leg and grabbed Fester around the knees. The force pulling them up was incredible and she was lifted off her feet. Suddenly, Fester's jacket ripped down the back and the viral lost his grip. Claire and Fester came down, slamming onto the floor in a heap as the hatch banged closed above him. Fester leaped to his feet, jumped up onto the ladder and reached up for the hatch, spinning the
wheel and jamming the lock in place.
He came down off the ladder and sat on the floor beside her in the dimly lit cabin. “Are you okay?”
Claire’s ankle pounded with a terrific pain, but she was alright otherwise. “I’m okay. I just twisted my ankle. How about you? You didn’t get bit or scratched or anything, did you?”
“I don’t think so, but I can’t see,” Fester said. “Can we get this thing going and switch the light on?”
“Yeah, we sure can.” Claire pulled herself up and went to the operator’s seat. Her hands shook violently as she fired up the machine. She could still hear the sound of the virals massing outside. She grabbed the first aid kit mounted to the wall, opened it and pulled out the alcohol wipes. Her hands shook as she tried to open one of them.
“They got my backpack,” Fester said, taking the wipes from her and opening a package.
Claire realized what that meant. The backpack with their supplies and the radio. Their lifeline to Jodie and Chuck. “It’s okay. I’m just glad that the pack is the only thing they got. We’ll just have to get it back.”
Fester unfolded an alcohol saturated paper towel. “Sit still. I’ll get the blood off your face.” Fester began gently scrubbing her forehead and cheeks, then opened another wipe. “Here. You’d better make sure your hands are clean.”
Claire rubbed her fingers with the wipe. “After I’m done, we should get out of here. I don’t know what these virals can do to a tank.”
A bony hand reached through the viewing window in front of Claire’s face. “Oh, shit,” she said, backing away as Fester grabbed a giant wrench mounted on the wall and brought it down on the viral’s arm. The viral wailed in agony, screeching as it pulled its hand back. The other virals pounded at the hatch overhead, jerking on the wheel.
“Strap in, Fester. It’s time to go. We’ll lead them away and see if we can come back for the pack.” Claire revved up the engine and took off, heading for the hilly portion of the base that looked like a mogul ski hill. A series of rises and depressions had been constructed, likely for training purposes. It would do for what she needed it for. “It’s gonna get a little bumpy. Hang on.”
She hit the first hill at top speed, the tank shooting up into the air. She felt weightless for a second until they landed on the hard ground. A series of screeches and a few bumps later, she knew she’d dislodged at least some of the virals. Then she hit the next hill and a viral fell head over heels in front of her, sliding off the front of the tank onto the spinning track, crunching underneath.
Claire drove back and forth through the course until she felt like all of the virals must’ve fallen off. She turned to look at Fester, who had donned a helmet and earmuffs. Even in the dim light and with the heavy helmet on, she could see his face had morphed into a funny shade of pale green. “You okay, Fester?”
Fester nodded but looked like he would throw up any minute. "Yeah. It's just the hills . . ."
“Well, you'll be happy to know that was the last of the virals. They’ve all run into the last building we left standing near the ship. I can’t see any over by the other tanks. Want to go get that backpack?”
“Yeah. Sure. I could use some air.”
Claire pulled up near where the backpack had been stripped from Fester. She spun the turret around in a circle, able to see a three hundred and sixty-degree view of the tank deck. “No one there.” She shut the tank off. “Let’s just listen for a minute before we open that hatch.”
Claire moved up closer to the viewing window, hearing nothing. “Okay, let’s give it a try. You have two bullets left, right?”
“Yeah,” Fester said.
She stood up and hobbled over next to the ladder, her foot numb and pulverized. “I’ll open the hatch and you point that gun up there. If one of those things is waiting for us, we’ll probably know right away.”
“Okay.” Fester lowered his eyes, his expression sad.
“Alright, what’s wrong, Fester?
Fester didn’t look up. “Chuck told me to protect you and I lost the radio. I almost got us killed.”
Claire wanted to laugh, but she realized he was dead serious. He felt bad because he couldn’t stave off the apocalypse. Surely, by now, he must understand they had little chance of success. “Fester, Fester. That’s not what happened. You saved me. You pushed me into the tank and almost got yourself killed in the process.” She looked at Fester, who seemed only incrementally relieved. “Hey, what we did wasn’t perfect, but we’re still here. I don’t think we could ask for more, being the only people battling those virals . . . and Gypsum . . . and the military, for that matter. Now, let’s get that backpack. We can talk about this later.”
Fester nodded. “Okay, I’m ready.” He pointed the rifle up toward the hatch.
Claire spun the wheel and pushed up, peeking out again to see if anything or anyone was waiting for them. “All clear, as far as I can see.”
Fester pushed the hatch all the way open and crawled up on the deck. Then, he began to lower the hatch. “You stay here,” he said.
“You can’t be out there by yourself.” Claire started to pull herself up onto the ladder, but a shooting pain in her ankle knocked her back to the floor, the pain so sharp it took her breath away.
“I’ll be right back.” Then, he closed the hatch behind him.
“Shit,” Claire said, feeling herself growing dizzy from the throbbing pain in her ankle. She crawled back and leaned against the gunner’s chair. A violent wave of nausea passed over her, forcing her to lie flat on the floor to keep from being sick. She fought to stay awake as the edges of her vision blackened. Although her mind told her it was the wrong thing to do with Fester outside by himself, Claire had no choice. Her body would have none of it. Darkness took her and she felt herself slip into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER 19
Chuck felt his face growing hot. He tried, but couldn't read Hana’s mind completely. He’d slowly been losing that ability since boarding the ship and was only getting bits and pieces of her thoughts. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, but it certainly was more challenging now that he was in the same situation as everyone else, trying to figure out what the truth was and what the lies were. “What do you mean, there never was an antidote? I saw you give it to Jodie. I saw her get well. You’re lying.”
“That was a sedative. You saw her fall asleep. Chuck, Jodie was already infected, a long, long time ago. Her mother used her as a Guinea pig. She had the original virus and she survived the inoculation. That’s how it was developed, to begin with.”
Chuck was very confused. He thought that Jodie’s father had shared a sample of her blood without her knowledge, but this was something much different. “Her mother inoculated her? I don’t understand. She’s really sick right now. Why is that happening if she can’t be infected?”
Hana looked at him, a flash of pity crossing her face. Then it was gone, replaced by a smug expression. “It’s probably happening because she’s dying, Chuck. Everyone who gets the virus eventually does. You know this.”
Chuck felt as if his knees were knocked out from underneath him. “I don’t believe you,” he said, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re lying. There is an antidote and you’re going to give it to Jodie or I’ll start removing your limbs, one by one until you do.” Chuck stepped toward Hana, her eyes growing large.
“There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry if you don’t believe that, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone on the planet is going to die anyway.”
Chuck grabbed Hana around the neck again and pushed her against the wall. “I’ll make this as painful as I can for you. Believe me.” With that, he pulled her hand away from his arm and snapped her wrist. Hana wailed and crumpled to her knees, obviously in excruciating pain. Chuck yanked her to a standing position and pulled her face up close to his. “The antidote. Now.”
Hana nodded. “Okay. Okay. I need to get my bag.” She let out a whimper, cradling her arm against her body.
Hana pulled away from him. “In the refrigerator,” she said, nodding toward an adjacent room. “There are syringes in my bag.”
Chuck picked Hana up by the back of her shirt and dragged her toward the doorway, grabbing her bag on the way. “Let’s go get it, then.”
He stopped before entering the next room, noticing two cameras with flashing red lights panning back and forth at the far side of the room where a refrigerator stood. “Who’s watching?”
Hana didn’t respond. Chuck sighed loudly, reaching for her unbroken wrist.
“No,” Hana screamed, attempting to pull her arm away. “Okay, I’ll tell you. It’s them.”
“Them?” Chuck couldn’t wait to hear this tall tale. “As in, the little green men? Or maybe the big ugly viral things? Which one?”
“The aliens. They’re watching us. They’ll know if we take anything from the refrigerator.”
Chuck looked up the panels in the ceiling. “Sit on the floor,” he instructed Hana. “Do it now.”
Hana looked at him, confused, tears streaming down her cheeks. He glared back in response, feeling no remorse over what he'd done to her. She leaned against the wall and slid down to a sitting position.
Chuck retrieved a chair from the room they’d just left and dragged it into the center of the hallway. He stood on it and reached for the ceiling, pushing up on a panel. It gave way easily and he slid it aside, revealing a confusing mass of wires and cables snaking through the ceiling above.
Chuck poked his head up higher into the hole and selected a group of wires, grabbing them tightly and yanking. In the other room, the brackets holding the security cameras shook. Chuck knew he had the right ones. With all his might, he pulled and the wires gave way, a sharp crack of electricity shooting out of the severed end. Chuck pulled the torn wire out of the ceiling and let it hang down, where it wouldn’t start a fire. Leaning inside the room, he could see the cameras had stopped panning and the red lights adorning them were dark.