by Kevin Gordon
The last of the fires were being extinguished as Charlie’s helicopter touched down near the center of Scott. When he got out, he knew something had changed.
Where are they?
No archetypes ran to greet him, to preen and pose for him. No prototypes huddled around him, eager for his words, desperate for his attention. Frank took out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag off it.
“Guess we both knew this day would come.”
“Yeah,” morosely replied Charlie. “Guess we did. Time to see who rose to the top.”
“You know, we could just nuke the whole base, and keep on goin’.”
Charlie patted Frank heartily on the back. “Yeah, but there are limits, even for me. Come on.”
He walked briskly with Frank over to the HQ, and found Gustav just inside. He was a little relieved to see Gustav’s rigid salute.
“At ease, Klendricks. Who’s in charge?”
“Brian, sir! Brian Torres sir!”
Charlie nodded with approval, even if he didn’t recognize the name. “Take me to him.”
He led Charlie into the HQ, down a few halls to a small war room where Brian was speaking to the other prototypes, filling him in on the events of the day. He waited as Brian wrapped up, watching him speak.
He’s got the authority, alright. Well, if he rebuffed an attack from the Deaconess, and had the guts to shoot her in cold blood, then I imagine he’s ready for the whole thing.
The prototypes filed out past Charlie, still with some admiration in their eyes, but cowed with the knowledge that Brian was still nearby. Charlie took a deep breath, assimilating the new order of things, and came over to Brian.
“Well done, young man, well done!”
Some part of Brian was immensely satisfied hearing those words, even if he already knew it was true. “Thanks! I’ve officially taken over control of this base. I hope . . . this doesn’t inconvenience you?”
“No, no. Never was much for the whole ‘General’ thing. I’d much rather be a rogue element, free to come and go as I please. So, what’s your first action?”
Brian motioned him over to a wide dry-erase board, on which were outlined his priorities. “First, the launch of Eve. Second, the repair of this facility. Finally, pacification of the people, at which time the Machine shall be activated. Nothing like this can ever happen again.”
Charlie nodded. “You ready for that kind of responsibility? For the weight of the survival of the entire human race?”
Brian’s jaw squared, as he grew stiff. “I wouldn’t have taken command of this base, and defeated the Deaconess and her grunts, if I wasn’t ready for it all.”
Charlie nodded, impressed by his bravado. “Anything I can do?”
Brian came closer, and whispered, “the Eingana?”
“Where’d you hear of that?”
“From a dead man.”
Charlie nodded. “Well, you’re in charge, and this is something you’ll need to know about, and decide what to do about.”
Brian flew in Charlie’s helicopter, leaving Frank to stay behind to help the cleanup of Scott. Brian had never been up in the air—not even in his training for Eve. Fuel was too precious a commodity to be wasted on training for any but the pilot, and several weeks ago he learned Todd would be the captain and pilot. So, he enjoyed the helicopter ride, and contented himself with the knowledge that as commander of Scott, he would be able to go into the air like this whenever he wanted, for as long as he wanted.
“Kinda nice, ain’t it?” asked Charlie, banking hard to the left and right, showing off.
“Yeah.” They started to pass over a large body of water, which Brian guessed to be Lake Michigan. It sprawled under them, the most water Brian had ever seen in one place. “Where are we going?”
“A small island in Lake Michigan, called Beaver Island.”
They arrived at the small island, near the northernmost tip of Lake Michigan. The air was cold, and Brian drew his jacket tight around him. Charlie touched down in front of a massive building that looked more like a barn, with dozens of trailers parked nearby. A mist hung low, and for the first time in a long time, Brian actually felt fear.
“Never liked coming here myself,” said Charlie, as they disembarked. “I’ve always taken a great interest in all the projects of the Homestead, but this one I was more than happy to turn over to someone else.”
“What is this place?”
“This is . . . this is where the future of our species is ensured. This is not only the greatest achievement of mankind, but the most foul abomination at the same time. I warn you, Brian, once you see this, you will never be the same.”
“I’ve seen plenty, and done things that have changed me irrevocably.”
“That may be true, my young prototype, but I’ve been alive far longer than you, and I can assure you, you have no idea what’s to come.”
As they headed to the tall building, Charlie told him that this complex had been in a state of suspension, ever since the first skirmish with the Deaconess. Archetypes were pulled back to Scott, in case anything should happen.
“So, you probably should thank me. Normally, our troop levels at Scott would’ve been half what they were.”
“Thanks,” replied Brian absently.
Charlie gritted his teeth, as he was unused to the arrogance of youth. Now I remember why I’ve spent so little time with the little shits. “Anyway, they aren’t many who know of this facility, and fewer still who have the knowledge of the technology behind it. The chief engineer and researcher was an old red-haired man, who we allowed to retire a few years back.”
A chill ran up Brian’s spine. “What was his name?”
“Kloud . . . Klaus? No, it was . . . Klonhagen! I remember now. Never liked the sonofabitch, always lookin’ at me twice, with a look in his eyes that men shouldn’t have for other men. But, without him, we never would’ve come as far as we have.”
Brian thought back to the plaque he saw in the old man’s house, the name he couldn’t figure out how to pronounce. “I . . . think I’ve met him.”
“Really? How’s he doing?!”
“I had him killed, so he’s doing pretty badly.”
It was like walking into a giant farm. The building was archaic, obviously built after Countdown, as it was uneven and slipshod. The low-hanging lights flickered on and off, and puddles of standing water ran the length, as the roof was obviously leaking. As they walked, Brian had to keep slapping at flies and mosquitoes that hungrily bit at him. There was an odor that smelled of manure and wet fur and slaughter, and it all pressed in as if the entire atmosphere on that island was in a terribly strong vise.
“We had to throw this up pretty quick. It gets better once we pass in.”
They walked past empty pens and stalls, in which hay and animal excrement could be seen. They were all empty, but they numbered in the hundreds and lined the entire perimeter of the inside of the building. They went through another door, this one heavy and airtight, passing into a white, pristine complex. Brian took a deep breath, as the air was now purified and smelled of delicate sweetness.
“Nice, ain’t it?” Charlie led Brian to another door, on which was scrawled ‘Eingana’ in thick, black marker. “Well, this is it, my young prototype. You have earned the right to see this, though you might hate me, and all the Homestead once you do.”
Brian gritted his teeth. “I’m ready.”
Charlie opened the door, and the first thing that hit Brian was the foul stench of organic waste. It was a powerful scent that almost brought him to his knees.
“Here,” motioned Charlie as he yanked a respirator from a line of them that hung near the door, “put this on.”
Brian put it on, and managed to breathe clean air again. They toured the perimeter, and Brian almost vomited at the sights and sounds.
The main floor was filled with what must have been five thousand people, lying on their backs. Brian only knew they were people because they still had a head, two
legs and two arms. Their torsos were all distended, with their bellies ballooned out, as two breasts lolled on top like helium-filled sacs. Each figure was hooked up to dozens of wired and tubes, through which various fluids flowed.
It was as if all creation swirled around Brian, for that moment, making him nauseous and sick. He was seeing something no human ought to see, much like being the first outsider to see the Concentration Camps of Nazi Germany, or the Killing Fields of Cambodia. The enormity of the abomination stunned even his now jaded senses. To see so many people transformed into living, breathing, breeding machines for animals, to see the masses of tubes and wires and clamps and rods sticking out of the girls who were only a year younger than him, broke his very soul. If not for one year difference, I’d be dead, or nailed down like them, sacrificed so farm animals could fester inside my belly.
He came close to one of the breeding bodies. A girl of caramel skin, she was bald, with three tubes inserted into various parts of her head. Her eyes were hidden under a dark, metal visor, but her body lay bare. Her breasts were thick and full, and undulated as a pump attached to them mechanically siphoned her milk away. Her belly, itself as massive as an adult male, was placid one moment, turbulent the next, as four separate entities gestated within.
“This is . . . the genesis of our future,” said Charlie quietly. “These are the Eingana, the birthing vessels. From them, all animal life has sprung again.”
Brian ran his hand along her naked skin. It felt hot and slimy, with a texture that was distinctly . . . inhuman. Her mouth opened, as if she was about to say something. “All animal life?”
“Yes. We have made it so these human wombs can bring various species of animals to term. The pig, goat, cow, horse, they all are birthed here, in the wombs of the forgotten generation. Even the eggs of reptiles and birds are created in the wombs of these little girls, and then placed in a hibernator until they hatch.”
“The plague?”
Charlie nodded, as they moved slowly around the other birthing vessels. “I don’t remember who came up with the idea of using the plague for a cover, but it worked. After we announced that an entire generation was ruined, we took all the children, killing the males, then pumping the girls full of drugs to negate the bodies’ natural rejection of foreign substances.”
They came to a stop in front of a tall, pale-skinned vessel, whose belly was obscenely large. It had drawn the skin so tightly, that faint impressions of the fetuses within could be seen.
“How . . . how many?”
“Some vessels can carry up to five fetuses—so long as they are of the same species. We’ve segregated them, so we never put different species in the same vessel.”
Brian thought he heard something from the vessel before him, so he bent his ear close to its mouth. “What’s she saying?”
Charlie stood by what once was a young girl, who lay without sight, and put his hand along its head, stroking it lightly and tenderly. “They never learned to speak, but they know how to whimper.”
Brian took a step back, aghast.
Charlie nodded, appreciating his reaction. At least, he still has some moral core. I can’t have some damned sociopath running things. “Well, that’s why I brought you here. I’m giving you the chance to start fresh. We have enough animals produced, so they can mate with each other, and bring those species back. We could . . . destroy, all you see before you. And when the switch is thrown, when the Machine rises, it will be clean and untainted by the sins of the Homestead.”
Charlie went into a nearby room, leaving Brian alone, in the sea of perverted humanity.
Iris could have been here, and we never would have known. It was almost a . . . gift that she was taken as quickly as she was. How could we do this to ourselves? How could anyone . . . service . . . these living, quivering horrors?
Charlie returned with a large flamethrower, primed, and ready for use. “I give you this chance.”
Brian took it from him, and gazed again on the field of human abominations.
“If you do this, you need to know that if another Countdown happens, it will need to be done again. There is no way to bring back the animals otherwise. And it must be done, for there to be any balance to our ecosystem, for our species to thrive.”
Brian hefted the thrower in his hand, and glanced back at Charlie. “An old fool once told me that we live in the Seventh Age of Man, and the skeptic that he was called this the Age of Doubt, which has its merit. But now, after seeing this, the true nature of this time in human history is finally revealed to me. This is the Chemical Age, for all that we are is due to some chemical biological mutation. The prototypes are smart because of chemicals, the archetypes strong because of chemicals, the workers and breeders live because of food grown in chemically altered bodies of children.” He spat on the floor. “We owe all we are now to chemicals, and if something isn’t done, they will be the death of us.”
Brian switched on the thrower, spitting accelerant, then flame on the vessels. They caught fire quickly, and soon, the machinery began to explode. Charlie pulled him out, as the complex quickly became engulfed in flame.
“I disabled the fire suppression system while I was inside,” said Charlie. “All of that generation will perish in this flame.”
Brian stood back, and watched as Charlie gazed on the burning building, as they both heard the screams of the dying. Brian couldn’t tell if they were screams of joy or pain.
“There are two more buildings, like these, on this island. If you like, we can—”
As Charlie turned around, he found Brian had pulled out his handgun and leveled it at Charlie’s chest.
“What’s this, my young prototype?”
“It’s time the machine was turned on. All it takes is a flick of the switch.”
Chapter 19