by Beck, Greig
Langstrom went on. ‘Worst case, the entire planet is compromised. Over a period of several months the gravity anomaly continues to grow and devours the entire planet. Simulation probability thirty-two per cent.’
‘Jesus Christ.’ Harker rubbed his brow with a knuckle.
‘And that brings us back to our highest probability scenario – surface slide, probability sixty-one per cent.’ Langstrom sat back watching each of their faces. Each man looked lost in thought, their complexions pale and faces slack. Each one of them was probably thinking of a future that might not exist for them or their loved ones.
Frank Everson turned to Bill Weaver. ‘Come on, Bill, back me up here… we might not have a choice of detonation in a day or two. The gravity waves are making it tough to fly over the site now. In another day, we won’t be able to get within a hundred miles of the laboratory… or what’s left of it. A single two-fifty kiloton nuke will turn everything in that lab and for fifty miles to slag.’
Bill Weaver, Director of Public Policy lifted his head, and then nodded slowly. His eyes were red rimmed. ‘He’s right, sir. We lose Illinois, or we lose the entire world. Might be a small price to pay.’
President Harker sat back and closed his eyes. ‘Small price; thirteen million people.’ He shook his head. ‘To save eight billion.’
‘Not even two percent.’ Everson folded his arms.
‘Not today, gentlemen.’ Harker rubbed his face. ‘Before I even get to that, I want an emergency evacuation plan in place, and…’
‘Evacuation? Begging your pardon, sir, but to where… Mars? And if the surface really is rendered sterile or nothing but a clean sheet, what will any survivors live on?’ Everson’s face was flushed as his voice took on a higher pitch.
Harker got slowly to his feet. He was a big man, and the Hollywood bonhomie was gone. ‘Calm down… right now.’ He waited for the man to compress his lips and nod.
‘I want to secure the weapons stockpiles, and I want the deep storage tunnels opened to get as many people inside and below the surface as we can – maybe a few can ride this out.’ He kept his eyes on Frank Everson. ‘What do we live on? Hope, luck, grit. We have advanced hydroponics, and animal breeding programs we can utilize.’ He brought a fist down onto the table. ‘People, there might be no alternative. The tunnels can support hundreds of thousands for years. We survive, we adapt, and we evolve.’
Everson rubbed his face. ‘I’m sorry, sir, I’m just…’
‘Forget it, so am I.’ He leaned forward on his desk. ‘All options are on the table. So… load a nuke into a high altitude bomber, and have it on the runway, ready.’
General Langstrom gathered his notes and sat forward. ‘Sir, before we cauterize, we need to give the Delta team time to complete their mission. If they can secure the laser acceleration diamond, then we can potentially reverse this magnetic whirlpool that’s been created. Stop this thing in its tracks.’
‘Two thirds of your team are dead or MIA. So, what’s the probability on that scenario, General?’ Everson looked annoyed.
Thankfully the President held up a hand to silence him. ‘How much time do you need?’
‘Forty eight hours.’
Frank Everson started to object, but the President spoke over the top of him.
‘And that’s all you got.’ President Harker stood and stuck out his hand. ‘Good luck, General, and I pray to God you’re successful.’
Chapter 27
It is Our Time… to be Free
The sudden cacophony of howls, screams, and roars from the Fermilab Animal Facility sounded to Chuck Benson like a preview from hell. The din over the speakers filled the comms room, and he spun in his chair, to look briefly at the camera feeds.
‘What the hell is going on in there?’
‘Huh…. Oh that.’ Porter, his fellow surveillance camera watcher, half turned his head, but kept his eyes on the lightning strikes that jagged into the Fermilab grounds.
‘Probably the storm putting them all on edge.’ He clicked his tongue with annoyance. ‘How the hell are we supposed to get home? Like a freakin’ hurricane out there now.’
Benson snorted. ‘And you with all your metal fillings.’ He flicked a switch. ‘Hey, Loeman, something’s up with the animals – wanna check it out?’
An older voice came back at him immediately. ‘Okay Chuck, I’m on it.’
Benson spun in his chair back to Porter. ‘Give him something to do. Poor guy has been down in the dumps ever since those assholes stabbed his dog.’
‘Yeah, like to lock that dickhead Samson in the pens with big Fen for five minutes; that’d sort him out.’
Benson sat back. ‘Don’t worry, if there’s one thing I know in this life, it’s that what goes around comes around.’
‘Karma, huh? You old hippy.’
Benson smiled. ‘Something like that.’
*
Dan Loeman unlocked the facility and stepped inside. The large room’s blinding whiteness was almost painful to his eyes after the darkness of the storm. As soon as he closed the door, the sounds ceased as if he had just flipped a switch.
‘You all just wanted some company, huh?’
He smiled. He liked it in here and he liked interacting with the animals. The genetically modified breeds weren’t really animals anymore – you only had to look in their eyes to see that certain, something – intelligence? A soul? At least that’s what he thought.
Being in here made him miss Morgana even more. She had been his favorite. Killed by a real beast. Loeman sighed: at sixty, he was due for retirement but had been putting it off. Now, he felt there was nothing stopping him.
He walked down along the aisles, looking in each of the pens – more like rooms really. Each of the animals sat still as stone, unexpectedly not watching him pass by, but instead all facing in one direction, towards one cubicle, with one particular animal.
Loeman didn’t need to see who it was. He stopped in front of the largest cubicle. Fen was waiting for him, standing on his back legs, a head taller than he was. The animal’s eyes, ice blue, bored into his own.
Loeman nodded a greeting. ‘What’s up Fen? Something spooking you and the pack?’
Loeman put his hand against the bars and Fen reached up to place his over the top of the old guard’s. It always gave Loeman a jolt to see how the animal’s paws had changed – not really paws anymore, more like hands. Even the dewclaws had dropped and lengthened to become opposable thumbs. Freaks, Samson had called them. Marvels, is what Loeman thought.
The deep growl began, and quickly formed into words. ‘We… miss… Morgana. And… you… do… too.’
Loeman nodded, his eyes filling. He felt the hollowness deep in his chest.
Fen squeezed his hand. ‘You… good… man. We not… forget.’
The huge animal looked up as a thunderous crack split the air. From behind the red quarantine door at the end of the corridor, they could hear howls that mixed fear and fury.
Fen’s gaze touched on the door momentarily, and then went back to stare up at the ceiling for a few more moments. ‘You… must… go. The time… is here for us.’ He looked back at the red door. ‘They… will be… free… and they know… no… kinship with man. Go…’
Loeman noticed behind Fen a leather satchel was packed, but still lay open. The spine of his favorite book was visible – Norse mythology. The big animal could read it himself now.
Loeman motioned towards the satchel. ‘You going somewhere?’
The gaze never wavered. ‘It is… our time… to be… free.’
Loeman lifted his access key and opened the door. He backed up as the animal stepped out. Another crack of lightening, and then the animal facilities roof exploded in a fireball of electricity, debris and swirling winds. The building was immediat
ely on fire.
Fen turned to Loeman and nodded to the exit. ‘Goodbye… friend of Wolfen.’
Wolfen? That’s what they called themselves? A burning beam crashed down beside him, and he headed to the door. At the exit, he stopped and looked back. Fen was calmly walking along the corridor opening all the cubicles. The animals, the Wolfen, were all upright, and quickly gathered around him like a phalanx of guards.
Flames rose up around them, but together they walked calmly to the end door, the red door, the experimental area that housed the creatures that were considered too unstable to be released. Fen looked in through the small triangular window for a moment, and then unlocked it.
Loeman turned to run.
Chapter 28
What the Sons of Man-kind
are Truly Capable of
Teacher stood with one foot on the edge of the cliff and leaned out to stare down into the jungle below. Beside him, Don Brown worked up some spit, and let it drop over the edge. The dollop only dropped a dozen feet before being caught in an updraft and flung back up into Ben Simms and Alison Sharp’s faces. Brown snorted as Sharp winced, but stopped when she reached across to push him, making him teeter for a moment on the edge.
‘Knock it off.’ Teacher stepped back.
Alf Doonie continued to scout the jungle treetops with a small high-powered pair of field glasses. He spoke out of the side of his mouth. ‘They went down, you think?’
Teacher looked along the steep drop-off. ‘According to the map, that’s the Dark Lands, so… I’m thinking that’s a high probability.’
Charlie Weng jogged back to the group. ‘Got two parties, one small with two members. The other, large and cumbersome – both went over the edge.’ He pointed with a thumb. ‘That way.’
‘Good.’ Teacher quickly tightened straps, fastened Velcro and checked pockets and pouches. ‘If that’s where they went over, then so do we.’ He looked up frowning. It would be full night before they hit ground.
‘Got some good news and bad news. Bad news is, we’ll have to do the climb without lights. We’d stick out for miles lighting up this rock face.’ He grinned. ‘And the good news is… no one will see us… even if we fall.’
Sharp sipped water then secured the small bottle. ‘Sweet. Nice dark climb, just using our finger tips.’
Brown pulled a face. ‘And think what it will do to your nails.’
‘You mean like this one?’ Sharp turned to him holding up her middle finger.
Teacher smiled, enjoying the brief moment of humor in the face of the death-defying climb ahead. ‘Okay, Weng, show us where they went over.’
*
The bag was dragged off Samson’s head, and he immediately set to looking around the room. There were just three of them left alive – himself, Wilson, and Ramirez. They all had blood running from multiple wounds, but knew they could survive and fight as long as they each had a single eye and a few limbs left intact.
He looked over his shoulder; the big bastards were behind him, grumbling and jostling, their luminous green eyes filled with hate and hunger. In front, the little freaks were crowded in close to the disgusting grub-like queen. He could see that slightly behind her were the teenagers who had come through before them, and also Colonel Briggs. He glared at her, but if she recognized him, she didn’t show it.
He tested his bonds – rope, and he reckoned it’d only take him a few minutes to work his way out of them. Samson had no illusion about his fate. He’d seen what had happened to a few of the Deltas who were too wounded to be taken prisoner – torn to shreds and then eaten, by things with more than five times the muscle power he could muster. He knew as soon as they had what they needed from him he’d be cat chow.
He grinned. Before he went, he’d do his best to take a few more of them with him. The queen began to make a hissing noise, and immediately Balthazaar’s stone allowed him to understand the words in amongst the sibilance.
‘We don’t neeeed youuuu, warriorsss of theee Ancientsss.’ The old queen leaned forward and her robe parted. Hanging between leathery old breasts swung the red diamond. It seemed an incongruous object of beauty set amongst the horrors of the disgusting queen’s body.
Samson shrugged. ‘We’ll be on our way then.’
She grinned blackly. ‘On your waaay to a Lygon’sss ssstomach before theee morning comesss, sssoft little beingsss of the ancient tiiimesss.’ She laughed, the Panterran joining in until she raised one scaly claw. ‘You arrre beaten. We haaave overrun your warriorsss… the bessst you could briiing. Weee will overrun yooour world jussst as easssily.’
Samson snorted. ‘Don’t kid yourself, grandma. I killed hundreds of your little freaks, and also just as many of the big dumb blockheads behind me. In fact, I could take them apart with my bare hands.’
Beside him, Wilson and Ramirez turned to look incredulously at him.
Wilson shook his head. ‘Boss, I’m not sure that…’
‘Shut up, soldier. We’re as good as dead anyway. Fight or die – I want to choose my own exit – how about you?’ Samson turned back to the Panterran queen. ‘You know what? I doubt there’s a single dirty freak amongst you that I couldn’t take down – right here, right now.’
Beside him, Wilson groaned, Ramirez sniggered. Samson got to his feet. He heard movement behind him, and expected to be crushed flat by an axe or club as big as he was. Instead, the queen held up her hand, grinning, her eyes glowing with excitement.
‘Yessss… yessss. Good. We accept your challennnge, warrior of Man-Kind. I will enjoy thisss sssport, and we will sssee what the sssons offf Man-Kind are truuuly capable of.’ She looked over his head, scanning the ranks of massive Lygon. ‘I choossse… Murdak, the Ssslayer.’
Samson heard the assembled Lygon grumble and begin to move behind him. Eventually the ill-humored masses parted to let one of their kind through who was as broad across as a horse. Standing eight feet tall, heavily scarred, and with a belt at his waist adorned with furs and bones as its trophies of victories past.
Murdak clenched his ham-sized fists, threw his head back and roared. Samson gritted his teeth, and tried hard not to cringe from the sound, so loud it hurt his ears in the confined space. The beast’s head came down, and his eyes fixed, firstly on Samson, then travelled to Wilson and Ramirez, before coming back to the Delta Captain.
‘No weapons.’ He grinned showing teeth like tusks and began flexing hands that ended in claws easily three inches long. He started to shed his armour, the huge plates clanking heavily as they dropped to the stone floor. Murdak grinned again.
‘Winner eat loser.’
Samson turned to his men and winked. Wilson started to gag, and Ramirez just giggled. He turned back to Murdak.
‘Bring it.’
*
Becky, Edward and Eilif were chained together. Becky kept up a constant stream of complaints to Edward about being tied so close to the strange animal-woman. She lowered her voice, but Eilif heard every word and just glared.
At one point Eilif had heard enough of the ill-mannered language and reached across to tug the woman’s long hair to shut her up, but also just to… feel it. She immediately snatched her hand back and bared her teeth as Becky shrieked. She was beginning to hate the female human even more – the hair was like the softest flowing silk beneath her fingers.
Becky drew back, and Eilif dismissed her. So weak and soft; they were nothing like Arn, or the descriptions she had heard from him about the people of his time. If these were in any way representative of the Ancients, then it was better for them they had left the world before the Panterran and Lygon had risen to oppose them.
It was mid-evening now, and fires were lit in the castle’s forecourt. Eilif despaired; the beautiful gardens that once surrounded the inner palace, where she and Grimson used to play, were transformed into fie
lds of dirt, rubble and rusty patches of spilled blood. It still stank of death.
The three captives were dragged to where a throne had been brought out. Mogahrr sat upon it grinning down at them, but her eyes had a special attention for Eilif.
‘Princesss… we have a ssspecial treat for youuu – yessster-time’s warriorsss come tooo challenge thossse of toooday. Who isss better? Who isss more fit to ruuule thisss world?’ Mogahrr turned in her seat to reveal Colonel Briggs standing mutely, her eyes vacant and mouth hanging open. The queen stroked the Colonel’s head and spoke to her. ‘If yooou are theee bessst, then your wooorld already belongsss to usss.’ She waved one scaly hand.
Murdak stood waiting, the other Lygon cheering as he lifted huge arms and paraded at the edge of the make-shift arena. He turned, nodded to Mogahrr, and then stood, breathing heavily, his huge chest moving in and out, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he waited.
Eilif growled deep in her throat, making Becky pull away with a look of disgust, mixed with fear. She edged as far from Eilif as their bonds would allow.
At a signal from Mogahrr, the three Delta force soldiers were pushed out into the arena. All three were now stripped to the waist, and Eilif marveled at their sizes compared to Becky, Edward and even Arn. These specimens of Man-Kind were what she had envisaged, rather than the soft pair beside her.
She leaned forward to get a better view – one of the men was larger than the others, his name Sam-son, she’d heard, his short cropped blond hair shining silver and gold in the firelight. He hurriedly talked to the others, one listened intently, and the third just giggled with his head down.
Mogahrr lifted one taloned hand and held it lazily aloft. The crowd was silent as it waited. She grinned, and then dropped it. Murdak spun, holding his massive arms wide, roaring at the three humans. He displayed tusk-like teeth, and long claws extended from the end of his stubby fingers.