TORMENT - A Novel of Dark Horror

by Jeremy Bishop

  Collins put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. During those few seconds, the room fell silent. All eyes turned to Collins.

  “I’m sure you understand,” Collins said, “that this is a delicate matter.”

  Paul nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “We can’t simply send in a rescue team, breaching their borders, after they’ve already accused us of committing an act of war.” Collins looked at Mia. “At this time, there isn’t much we can do.”

  Mia was about to speak, but Paul slightly lifted his fingers off the table, motioning her to stay calm.

  “Sir,” Paul said, his voice still calm and utterly respectful, “Do you think something can be done when all this blows over?”

  Collins sighed. Mia thought for a moment he would lose his composure, but after twitching his lips one way and then the other, he said, “From what I understand, Mr. Brenton was a fine soldier. He served his country well. But in the end, he—”

  A tall, balding man that screamed, “Secret Service” entered the room quickly, followed by a jittery, shaggy haired man that Mia didn’t recognize. The man bent down, whispered into the president’s ear and then left in a hurry.

  Collins looked startled, but then looked back to the Secret Service man and smiled. “That’s taking it a little far, don’t you think, Tom?”

  Mia placed the name. This was the pit bull, Tom Austin. But what were they talking about?

  Austin shook his head. “Not me, sir. It’s real.”

  The president just stared straight ahead, like he’d been lobotomized by the man’s words. It felt like watching a flashback of George W. sitting in front of the classroom of kids after being told about the attack on the World Trade Center. He just sat...staring...

  “Sir,” Paul said. “What’s happened?”

  Collins craned his head slowly toward Paul. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel the ceremony today. Russia just declared war.”

  7

  Earth Orbit

  Several times each year, a group of satellites launched into space by the Russian satellite communications company, MTI, cross over the airspace of the United States and Europe at the exact same time. The complex dance began in the late nineties, when the first of the now fifty-seven satellites was placed in earth orbit. The last of the bunch joined the group in early 2007. Four times since June 2007, they have formed a perfectly dispersed web of satellites over the western world, just for a few minutes each time.

  A few minutes was all they needed.

  All fifty seven satellites activated simultaneously. Hatch doors opened noiselessly in space, their payloads exposed to the endless vacuum. This moment represented fifteen years of planning, painstaking calculations, absolute secrecy and a hidden budget that drained resources from the struggling Russian economy. But the long-term plan would return the mother country to superpower status, wipe out all opposition and leave them to reign in a new world order.

  The gambit was dangerous, no doubt, but living in the shadow of an overpowering enemy is not a life worth living. The potential benefits outweighed the risks, which had been minimized through detailed planning and now, perfect execution.

  The satellites began their countdown when the Russian president publicly declared war. The announcement was designed to confuse the enemy. The Americans would respond with incredulous accusations about the assassination attempt and the unlikely odds that Russia could ever win a war. But the other reason for the announcement was to get the Americans’ eyes turned toward Russia. Why shoot the enemy in the back when you can get them to turn around and see it coming. Let them realize they’ve been throwing a party in front of a lion’s den. Then destroy them.

  3...

  2...

  1...

  Fifty-seven fifteen-megaton nuclear warheads detonated as one. Their bright plumes of light, seen from the ground, brought gasps of awe, comments of beauty and then—absolute fear.

  No traces of radiation reached the earth. Not a degree of heat. Not a wave of pressure.

  What struck was invisible and totally undetectable, until the electromagnetic pulse reached out and disabled every electronic device in the western world.

  8

  Washington D.C.

  A panel in the dining room wall slid up to reveal a flat-screen television. Austin turned it on and stood back as the screen lit up, revealing the stern eyes and grim face of the Russian president. The news ticker at the bottom of the screen read, “Russia declares war on the United States.” For a moment Mia felt strange and out of place to be receiving the grave news not only at the same time as the president of the United States, but in his presence. She expected him to jump up at any moment and run to some war room or something. But he stayed rooted in his seat at the head of the table, hovering over his scraps of bacon and eggs. She realized then that this was going down in real time. Even moving to another room would mean catching up on what was being broadcast.

  “Turn it up,” Collins said.

  Austin pushed the volume button on the TV several times, then stood back as Misha Alexandrov’s voice filled the room. His voice boomed loud and angry, speaking in heavily accented English. “Today the Americans and their allies will learn what it means to mock the great Russia. We will no longer tolerate the insults, economic posturing or flagrant spread of their Christian religion in our great Soviet state! Today, we return to the communism that made this country great! Today, we return to the pinnacle of the world’s attention. Today, our enemies will taste defeat.”

  Alexandrov turned toward the camera, peering into the eyes of billions of transfixed viewers and said. “Today.”

  Realization slammed into Mia’s mind. “Oh God. He wouldn’t.” She turned to the president. “He wouldn’t, right?”

  The president looked at Chang, who’d been whispering on the phone. “The VP?”

  “En route to a secure location,” Chang said, nearly in tears.

  Collins nodded, then stood. He looked at the group. “I’m sure this is all posturing...but... Stephanie, make arrangements for them to be taken out of the city.”

  Chang nodded.

  The president headed for the door with Austin in tow. “He turned back to the group as he opened the door. “Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will—”

  The TV blinked out. The lights died. The sounds of the city, which had been penetrating the White House walls as a distant yet constant hum, went silent.

  Austin clasped the president’s arm, fearing danger. Two more Secret Service men and one woman burst into the room, eyes sharp and wary. As the group stood in silence, waiting for some sign of life to return, Chang gasped. She held up her cell phone. The screen was black.

  “Electromagnetic pulse,” Mia whispered. She’d seen the supposed effects of an electromagnetic pulse in enough movies to recognize what had happened. With every electronic device rendered useless, no other explanation made sense.

  Then the silence broke again. Horns blared in the distance. Grinding metal shook the air. Cars were stalling. Some were crashing. Engines stopped. Power steering failed. Mia’s eyes widened as she realized the same effect would be taking place in the skies. With five thousand planes in the sky at any given time in the United States, a lot of people were about to die.

  Then a new sound intruded—shouting voices and heavy feet. A flurry of men burst into the room all shouting at once. Collins held up his hands and they fell silent. “How long before we’re back up?” he asked no one in particular.

  A young man with large ears stepped forward. “The generators are being refitted with shielded parts. White House power should be restored within the minute. Same with our military bases, silos and radar systems. We should assume our satellites are being destroyed as we speak. They’ll want us blind.”

  A man pushed through the group with an old rotary phone. He lay on the floor and slid under a china cabinet.

  Mia’s mind spun as the new events unfolded around her, building like a hu
rricane and dispersing all her worries and thoughts about Matt like dust in a storm. She wanted to say something, to contribute somehow, but all she could do was watch and marvel at Collins’s calm in the face of war.

  “When the lines are up, I want all forces put on red alert. I want planes in the sky and our—”

  The old metal bell on the phone cut painfully through the air. The man on the floor slid out from beneath the pantry where he’d plugged it into the wall and answered. “White House.”

  Mia couldn’t understand the man on the other end, but she could hear his shouting voice. She knew the news was bad when the man on the floor opened his eyes wide.

  “What about the missile defen—”

  Then she heard the tinny voice on the other end shout, “It’s all gone! Get out! Get out now!” The line went dead. The man on the floor hung up the phone and looked at Collins. His face paled as he swallowed. “ICBMs in the air, sir. The missile defense networks in Europe and Alaska have already been hit.”

  “How many?” Collins asked, his voice quiet and deep.

  “Everything they’ve got. They’ve targeted Europe and our allies around the world as well. Several European allies have already been hit.”

  “How long?”

  The man sniffed. “Five minutes.”

  Collins took a long deep breath while Mia tried hard not to vomit. The United States was about to be nuked into oblivion. With Washington D.C. no doubt first on the hit list, they had slightly less than five minutes to live.

  She reached out and took Elizabeth’s hand. She looked at Mark. His eyes were closed, his lips moving fast. Praying. Paul sat rigid next to him. He looked ready to snap into action like a true war hero, but what could he do against a nuclear assault?

  Collins waved the man with the phone over. He took the phone, placed it down and dialed a five digit number. “General Long, this is President Collins. Are you aware of our current situation? Good. What’s the status of our nuclear arsenal?” Collins listened and nodded. “Good, good. Listen...launch everything. Predefined targets in scenario Omega. Yes. Yes. Right now. Get them off the ground and out of our subs before a single U.S. city is struck. I want them wiped off the damn planet. There is no way I’m going to let those sons-a-bitches rewrite history!” Collins slammed down the phone causing everyone in the room to jump. Not because of the loud clang of the phone’s bell, a sound Mia no longer missed, but because he’d just ordered the outright extinction of the human race.

  Austin caught her eye as he moved forward and whispered into Collins’s ear. Collins nodded. “Do it.”

  Austin looked up at the group of men. “Listen up. Initiate the Orion Protocol. Get everyone you can, but do not wait. The train leaves in sixty seconds. We launch in two. Go!”

  The group of men exited the room like a torrent of water, flowing into the hallways. Three of the remaining Secret Service agents rushed out with Collins and Chang. Austin began to follow then stopped at the door. He looked back at the stunned group still sitting at the table. “You can sit there and die or you can come with me, but keep up, because I’m not going to wait.”

  Mia was the first on her feet, scooping up Elizabeth and chasing after Austin, who was already out the door. Paul and Mark followed close behind as Austin led them down a staircase to the first floor, across the center hall and into a library lined with books. Mia paused for a moment, surprised to see one of the bookshelves hanging open like something out of Indiana Jones. Austin appeared in the doorway from below. “Hurry it up!” he shouted. “We’re leaving in thirty seconds!”

  Mia and the others rushed through the doorway and down fifty cement stairs. At the bottom they entered a large cavity that housed what looked like several small subway cars, but they were unlike any subway cars she’d ever seen. They sat high on a single track that ran under the center of the car. Austin waved them on as he held the door open. “Move it!”

  Mia ran through the doors and put Elizabeth down. The inside of the car looked like an actual subway, with seats on the sides and poles in the middle. As Paul and Mark entered, Austin let the doors close and stepped inside. Mia could see other groups of White House staff flowing through several doors throughout the chamber, all scrambling into the other cars.

  Austin picked Elizabeth up and held her tight to his chest as he sat down.

  “Hey,” Mia protested, but the look in Austin’s eyes told her to shut up.

  “Hold on,” he said so seriously that she instantly complied, grabbing on to one of the poles.

  The car lifted slightly and then took off like a rocket. Paul, caught off guard, fell to the floor and slid to the back of the car where he crashed into the wall. But no one could help him. As the car climbed rapidly to its top speed of two hundred miles per hour, the G-forces held everyone in place. But then, as quickly as it started, the car came to a steady stop. Mia looked out the window and gasped. Had they just covered the distance between Washington D.C. and Area 51?

  Paul stood up with a groan and followed Mia’s eyes. “Now what the hell is that?”

  9

  Washington D.C.

  Mia stumbled from the railcar, pulling Elizabeth by the hand. They had entered a massive chamber, lit by rows of halogen lights that wrapped around the tall cylindrical space. The chamber stood perhaps three hundred feet tall and twice as wide, but the four objects contained within commanded all her attention.

  “Auntie Mia,” Elizabeth said, “you’re hurting my hand.”

  Elizabeth’s pained and nervous voice yanked Mia away from the view. She looked back at her niece and saw her large, bright blue eyes brimming with tears. Realizing in that moment that Elizabeth would soon be the only family she had left—Matt, Margo and Mom would soon be reduced to ashes—she picked the girl up in her arms and held her tight to her chest. She chased after Austin, who was halfway to one of the strange looking...things.

  “You want me to carry her?” Paul asked, as he took her arm, half walking, half running next to her.

  “I got her, thanks.” Mia said.

  “You know what these things are?” Paul asked.

  Mia looked at the four bell shaped objects. Each craft stood seventy-five feet tall and had a sixty foot diameter at the bottom. The underside had a curved surface coated by millions of smooth, black panels. The black skin looked familiar to Mia, but in her panic she failed to place the image. The stark white surface of the object Austin led them toward gleamed bright in the halogen light, obscuring most of the external features except a large American flag and rows of small portal windows.

  “Salvation, I hope.”

  “The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?” Mark said as he joined their mad rush to the strange structure. “The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?” He looked at Mia. “One of the Psalms. Can’t remember which one under the current circumstances.”

  Mia quickened her pace as they neared a ramp that led up to a large open, steel doorway. Austin stood by the hatch, but no longer waved for them to hurry. He looked past them, his eyes pinched with sadness. She turned to Mark as she stepped up on to the ramp. “You’re not afraid?”

  Mark climbed onto the ramp, followed by Paul. “Actually, I’m scared shitless, but you were asking for salvation. I just want to not be nuked.”

  Mia couldn’t help but smile as they rushed up the ramp and past Austin. Mark somehow gave her hope that everything might be okay. Perhaps this was all a cosmic misunderstanding? Maybe the missiles could be called back? Her smile disappeared after she passed through a long hallway and entered a large room.

  Fifty chairs, laid back like recliners, filled the room. Attached to each chair was a restraint system, like you’d see on a roller coaster, but much more rigid. Collins, the three Secret Service agents and Chang were in the process of pulling the bars up over their chests. Once in place, the black padding around the bodies, heads and chest expanded, locked them in tight.

  A loud clang sounded fr
om the hallway behind them. Tom had closed the door. Mark ran to one of the small portals. He turned back as Tom entered the room, “We have room for at least forty more people!”

  “No time!” Tom said as he jumped into one of the chairs and pulled the bar up over his chest. As the padding inflated he said, “I suggest you strap yourself in. We launch in thirty seconds.”

  Mia’s eyes widened as the word “launch” took root in her mind. “Oh, God.” She flung Elizabeth into the nearest chair and yanked the bar up over her small chest. It seemed loose on her small body. “Will this work for a child?” Mia shouted as her hands began to tremble.

  “No...time...” Tom said, barely able to breathe, let alone speak in the tight grasp of the chair.

  Mia leaned down and kissed Elizabeth. “I love you.” As the pads on Elizabeth’s chair began to expand, Mia jumped into the next chair. Paul and Mark were both strapped in already, pads constricting their bodies. She slid into position, sat up and grabbed the safety bar. As she pulled the bar up and over her body, a loud mechanical voice filled the one-fifth occupied room, “Ten, nine, eight, seven...”

  Mia grunted as she pulled down on the arm and locked it into place. The pads began to fill with air, but were still a few inches from her body. She turned her head slightly and looked to the side. She could see through one of the portals. People poured from the small train cars still, all running toward the crafts. Soft thuds drifted from the hallway. People outside were banging on the hatch. Had anyone else made it? Would they reach the other...

  “Three...two...”

  Orion.

  In that final second, Mia’s subconscious finished putting together the pieces of what was about to happen. Collins called this project Orion. Tom said they would be launched. Matt’s third passion after trucks and the military was space. He read everything he could about it, absorbing every bit of it as though he’d get to visit the moon some day. And she’d suffered through more than a few documentaries. One such documentary discussed possible methods for propelling spacecrafts through space at enormous speeds. Solar sails, ion propulsion, laser sails and all sorts of other fancy theories. But one struck her as being absolutely outlandish. Orion.