The Forever Man 6 - Dystopian Apocalypse Adventure: Book 6: Rebirth

by Craig Zerf

The marine glanced at the timepiece above the helm. Eight hours to target.

  Then there was no possible way of turning back. The die was truly cast. And Nathaniel and his small group of rebels would have openly declared war on the massive alliance of the Highmen and their airships, battle wagons and countless warriors.

  Chapter 30

  The Lostvega Leviathan approached the target at an altitude of just under two hundred feet. All gunners were on station, the engineer and his assistants were in the engine room and any spare hands were all on fire control. Manning water pumps at strategic points, close to boilers and weapons, ready to douse any flames that might spring up when the airship was fired upon.

  Ethan had eschewed sneaking up on the target, maintaining that they would have no idea that they were about to be attacked and any untoward behavior would simply arouse suspicions.

  Ethan pointed for’ard. ‘There it is.’

  Nathaniel stood at the front of the deck and stared down at the large industrial complex that lay before them. Tall stacks belched yellow sulfuric smoke. A lake of chemical effluent stood to the one side of the complex, fed by a pair of huge pipes that vomited an iridescent sludge of toxins into the ever-increasing pool.

  ‘Those two holding tanks are where they keep the Mutagenic Reprotoxic Teratogen liquid or MRT.’ informed Ethan.

  ‘Agent Orange,’ said the marine under his breath.

  ‘I’d advise that we do nothing fancy,’ said Ethan. ‘I shall bring the ship in broadside to the tanks. We hit them first, then drift over the rest of the complex and simply hit it with everything that we have. All guns on deck. We should reduce the entire complex in under two minutes. Then we hightail it out of here. Nightfall is only minutes away so there’s no chance that they will send anyone after us until morning. And anyway, there won’t be any warships capable of bothering us with a radius of hundreds of miles.’

  ‘Let’s do it,’ agreed the marine.

  Ethan walked over to the speaking tube. ‘Engineer, all engines full slow, maintain zero bubble, divert pressure to all weapons boilers. Helmsman, give me a two degree turn to North, then lash rudder amidships. Sound general quarters.’

  Brett adjusted the wheel and locked it in place, then she grasped a lever above her head and pulled it, allowing a rush of steam to power the general quarters alarm. A chain of low rumbling hoots echoed around the ship, warning all of battle stations.

  The Leviathan hove-to next to the Agent Orange manufacturing and storing plant and brought all weapons to bear.

  ‘Wait for it,’ commanded Ethan. ‘Right, sound the attack.’

  Brett pulled the lever again, this time working it back and forth. A cacophony of high pitched shrieks filled the ship. A strident call to arms. The attack had been sounded.

  The Leviathan shuddered as every mallet gun opened up at the same time, pouring tons of lead shot into the holding tanks. Next the dull boom of the steam harpoons joined in and the tanks erupted in massive gouts of orange and steam.

  Then the weapons were brought to bear on the rest of the factory, tall towers were reduced to rubble in mere seconds, buildings collapsed and fires started to bloom throughout the compound.

  A minute later Ethan held his hand up. ‘Break off,’ he shouted.

  Brett pushed the lever and a long low bellow sounded out, reverberating through the ship like a mournful beast. The guns stuttered to a halt, their jobs complete.

  ‘Unlock the helm,’ commanded the captain. ‘Set course North by West.’ He picked up the speaking tube. ‘Engineer, give me eighty percent all engines, revert pressure back to the primary boilers, up two bubble, increase hydrogen by ten percent.’

  The engine notes changed, the ship rose slightly and, within minutes, the ruined factory complex was fading into the distance as the Leviathan powered away, making good its escape as the sun bowed down below the horizon and ushered in the night.

  Nathaniel, Ethan and Brett stood in silence as the ship rumbled through the night sky, traveling at around seventy knots, or eighty miles an hour. After a few minutes Brett spoke first.

  ‘Were there people in that factory?’

  ‘Some,’ admitted Ethan. ‘Although, to the best of my knowledge they mostly knock off at sixteen hundred hours, that’s why we planned the attack for that time. But there is no doubt that there were casualties. Loss of life.’

  ‘If they are not for us, then they are against us,’ proclaimed the marine.

  ‘But they didn’t even have a choice,’ argued Brett.

  ‘Everyone has a choice,’ said Nathaniel. ‘Everyone. Don’t ever forget that, Brett. It is the one thing that no one can ever take from us. They may not be easy choices, and they may be hard, but they are always ours. Always.’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  ‘No,’ said Nathaniel. ‘Enough. We are at war. We have just destroyed something that is so evil that it had no place on this earth. We have stopped a great injustice. And we will continue to rail against all injustices that are being brought to bear on humankind. For this is our land. Our world. Our Earth. The land of the free and the home of the brave…and no over-tall, big headed, alien space invader is going to take it from us. The reign of the Highman is about to come to its natural end and that star spangled banner shall wave once again. The time to kick ass has arrived and we are the boot that’s gonna do the kicking.’

  And such was Nathaniel’s passion that no one gainsaid his proclamation. Even though they had little to no idea what he was actually raving about.

  ***

  Ethan heaved-to after the Leviathan had traveled around one hundred miles from the destroyed factory outside of Lostvega. The ship creaked and groaned as it hung motionless in the sky, tethered to the earth with its vast steel anchors and thick hawsers.

  Leon had organized a skeleton watch and most of the crew were sleeping soundly, exhausted after their first day of action.

  Ethan and Nathaniel were still awake though, sipping rum at the chart table on the bridge.

  ‘How long will it take them to get the processing plant up and running again?’ Nathaniel asked the captain.

  Ethan shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, my lord,’ he answered. ‘I’m an airman; I have no real concept of what they do on the ground. I do, however, remember that, many years back when my father was captaining the Leviathan, one of the main boilers in the factory exploded, blew out a good chunk of the plant. Took them around three months to get it back on track.’

  Nathaniel nodded thoughtfully. ‘So it wouldn’t be out of the question to figure on a down time of three to six months. That’s good,’ he continued.

  ‘There’s more, though,’ said Ethan.

  ‘More plants?’

  The captain nodded.

  ‘Something that you could have mentioned before, Ethan,’ admonished the marine. ‘How many and where?’

  ‘Two. Newyork and Dalas. We weren’t the only ship dumping chem. In fact we aren’t even the ship that sumps the most. It’s a round the clock thing. We do it…did it…every few months. There are two freighters out of Dalas that dump every month. Smaller than our payload but it adds up. Then there’s the Lady Liberty out of Newyork. Battleship like us, not quite as big. She does a run every few months, as does her sister ship the Empire States.’

  ‘Well, it’s a start,’ Said Nathaniel. ‘I need some time to think about our next move. Don’t want us flying around like wild geese striking at the next target that comes into our heads. We need a structure. A definitive plan.’ He walked to the window and stared down at the ground. The waning moon reflected back off the vast white plain. ‘Hey, Ethan.’

  ‘My lord?’

  ‘What’s that down there? It’s too even to be snow and too white to be sand.’

  ‘Salt flats, my lord. It’s an area called Groom Lake.’

  The marine stood in thought for a while, sifting through his memories. ‘Groom Lake.’ Then it struck him. ‘Area 51. Well I’ll be dammed.’ He chuckled to himself. ‘We smack b
ang in what used to be the world’s most restricted airspace.’

  ‘What’s that, my lord?’ Enquired Ethan.

  ‘Nothing, my friend,’ answered Nathaniel. ‘Simply memories. Not important. Look, I’m going to get some sack time. I’ll be up before sunrise. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, my lord.’

  Chapter 31

  The next morning the sun burst over the horizon, its pulsing rays washing the sky with a myriad of color that was reflected back off the white salt plains like a nineteen seventies glam-rock light show.

  Nathaniel, Leon, Brett and Ethan all stood at the window of the bridge and stared out at the beauty caused by the release of massive amounts of magnetic energy stored in the sun.

  The marine cast out his net of power but the pulse light made no difference, the land still felt dead. Empty. Bereft of magik. He tried again, concentrating as hard as he could, willing the earth to release what little energy it had, pushing his net wider and deeper than he had ever before.

  And then something pushed back.

  Nathaniel grunted like he had been struck a body blow.

  ‘What is it?’ Asked Brett.

  ‘There’s someone. Or something, out there.’ Nathaniel pointed due North. ‘Over there.’

  Everyone stared in the direction that the marine had pointed and Ethan grabbed a pair of farlookers to look closer. But nobody could see anything.

  ‘Just salt and sand and snow, boss,’ commented Leon. ‘There’s nothing out there.’

  Nathaniel shook his head. ‘There’s something there,’ he insisted. ‘And it’s something big. Vast. Or maybe many smaller something’s. Hold on, let me check again.’

  The marine closed his eyes and, slowly and carefully, he pushed his conscious thought out towards where he had felt the presence. It was there, near the very edge of the salt flats. He forced himself to relax, keeping his thoughts tranquil. Without aggression. Peace. Harmony. And the entity let him in. After a few minutes he smiled.

  ‘People,’ he said. ‘There, near the edge of the lake. Ethan, can you maneuver us over there?’ He pointed. ‘Take us down to one hundred feet and stop, just above that cairn of rocks.’

  Ethan nodded. ‘Aye, aye, my lord.’

  Boilers were stoked and valves opened and the huge engines thundered into life.

  Nathaniel turned to the lion man. ‘Leon. Tell all of the gunners to stand down. I want no one within ten feet of a weapon.’

  Leon stared for a moment, an expression of doubt on his face.

  ‘Do it,’ urged the marine.

  The lion man nodded and jogged off to do Nathaniel’s bidding.

  ‘What is happening, my lord?’ Asked Ethan.

  ‘People,’ answered Nathaniel. ‘Many people. Over there.’

  ‘I see them not.’

  ‘Me either,’ agreed the marine. ‘But I know that they are there.’

  ‘Humans or Highmen?’ Asked Brett.

  ‘Not Highmen,’ answered Nathaniel.

  ‘So, humans then?’

  Nathaniel shrugged. ‘Maybe. Not sure. Almost. Not mutants but not quite human. Peaceful though, so no worries. I hope.’

  Leon ran back onto the bridge. ‘I’ve stood the men down,’ he informed Nathaniel ‘But I’m not happy. We have no idea what we’re going into.’

  The marine raised an eyebrow. ‘We should be fine. Maybe.’

  ‘Maybe?’ Countered the lion man.

  ‘Maybe,’ confirmed the marine.

  ‘Tell me when, my lord,’ said Ethan.

  ‘Now, captain. Bring us to. Hold position. Leon, get someone to open the for’ard hatch and run down a chain ladder. I’m going to ground.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Leon.

  Nathaniel shook his head. ‘Only me. We don’t want to spook them.’

  ‘Spook who?’ Asked Leon in a frustrated voice. ‘Just what the hell is down there?’

  The marine winked. ‘Not sure. But we’ll all know soon enough. The hatch please, Leon.’

  Leon ran off to organize Nathaniel’s needs and the marine turned to the captain. ‘Ethan, when I am down there I want no aggressive moves. Make sure that everyone stays away from their weapons. Observe but do not intervene.’

  ‘Yes, my lord. But…’ Ethan hesitated. ‘What if they harm you?’

  ‘Well,’ answered Nathaniel ‘In that case…cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.’

  ‘As you say, so shall it be, my lord.’

  Nathaniel smiled. ‘Lighten up, Ethan.’

  The captain looked puzzled as the marine left the room heading for the for’ard hatch. Behind him, Brett covered up a grin with her hand and concentrated on handling the helm.

  Nathaniel swung out of the hatch and clambered down the long chain ladder, sliding the last twenty feet and hitting the ground at speed.

  Then he walked purposefully towards the cairn of rocks that were close by, stood next to them, emptied his mind and waited, his senses on high alert. As he waited he felt the ground under him start to vibrate. A low level thrumming. A deep bass resonance that came up through the soles of his boots and rattled his teeth together, like he was in the throes of hyperthermia. And then the earth in front of him started to sink. Slowly a large circle appeared in the salt, puffs of dust sprang up around the edges and the rumbling grew higher in pitch and intensity. When the circle had sunk down by two or three feet, it slid to the side to reveal a stairway, six feet wide, polished steel, a steep gradient that disappeared into the gloom below.

  A feeling of welcome enveloped the marine and, without hesitation, he started walking down the flight of steps. As he proceeded into the darkness the entrance started to close behind him. The sound of the grating metal and rumbling machinery was much louder now that he was inside and he felt as though his vital organs were doing the Macarena.

  Before he was plunged into total darkness a series of small gas lights lit up next to the stairway, and each time he took a step, another light would activate. The marine reckoned that they must work on some sort of pressure switch connected to the individual stair runners.

  He continued descending, tripling down in that strange way that people go down stairs. Not a run but not quite a walk either. Finally he came to solid, flat ground.

  ‘About four minutes,’ Nathaniel murmured to himself. ‘Maybe twenty five stories. Two hundred and fifty feet underground.’

  As he stopped, the entire chamber around him started to fill with a low light. Enough to appreciate the vastness of the surroundings but not quite bright enough to pick out any details.

  And standing about twenty feet from him was a person. Male, probably. Short. Maybe four foot and a couple of inches. Slight. Large head. Disproportionately large eyes. Blue. Wearing a gray tunic and matching trousers. Sort of a gray kung-fu outfit. On his feet, slippers that looked to be a thick cotton material or perhaps some type of soft leather. No hat. Thin silver hair. Hands clasped behind his back.

  He bowed slightly, acknowledging the marine’s presence. ‘We extend our greetings.’

  Nathaniel nodded. ‘Greetings right back at you.’

  The man’s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles. ‘Before we go any further,’ he said. ‘May we enquire as to what you are? Where are you from?’

  ‘I’m a man,’ answered Nathaniel. ‘Human. Just like you, I assume. And I’m from earth. America to be more precise.’

  The small man nodded. ‘Yes. You are human. Much like we are. Perhaps we worded our question improperly. We meant, when are you from?’

  ‘Ah,’ responded the marine. ‘That’s a little more complicated. Originally, America, when this place was still known as Area 51. I suppose that was circa some six hundred plus years ago. However, I have also lived with the Picts. I have fought the great Roman Empire and I have caused the death and annihilation of at least two separate species of beings in a place once known as The United Kingdom. So, where am I from? Take your pick. Sometime over the last two thousand five hundred ye
ars or so. Give or take a hundred.’

  ‘Are you saying that you are a time traveler?’ Asked the man.

  ‘Not really,’ countered Nathaniel. ‘Time traveler seems to donate some form of control over the process. As far as I am concerned I just seem to get shoved around by the cosmic whatever. I suppose I travel from incident to incident regardless of the timeline that the said incident is taking place. If I need to be there, then that’s where I am. Bit of a drag really.’

  Nathaniel heard a low chorus of voices, like a huge celestial choir singing under their breath. And then he felt a gentle nudge against his mind. A subtle attempt to connect with him at a cerebral rather than a physical level. Perhaps something akin to a mental handshake. The feeling was shockingly obtrusive and he slammed his mind shut, closing the doors of his own mental corridors and throwing up a shield all about him.

  The small man took a step back. ‘We are so very sorry,’ he said, his face a portrait of contrition. ‘That was extremely rude of us. We should have realized that our mind-meld would seem both immodest and unwarranted. It is simply the way that we greet each other and welcome one to the assemblage.’

  ‘No worries,’ returned the marine. ‘Just don’t attempt to go rooting through my head without asking permission first, okay?’

  The man nodded. ‘Please,’ he continued. ‘Follow us, we are sure that you have many questions and we shall be happy to answer them. We too have a multitude of queries, after all, you are the only mentally sentient human being that we have come across in hundreds of years.’

  Nathaniel followed the man to what looked like an electric powered golf cart. He sat in the passenger seat while the small man drove the vehicle. The man engaged the accelerator pedal and the cart glided forward with a hush of expelled air. It became immediately apparent to the marine that the cart was somehow powered by compressed air as opposed to the ubiquitous steam engines that he had become used to in this new society that he was now a part of.

  The lack of smoke and steam was a welcome change as they breezed swiftly across the open area, heading for a large corridor. Like the steps, the corridor lit up as they proceeded along and Nathaniel also noted that, once they were past a point, the lights behind them turned off automatically. The effect was disconcerting, making it seem almost as though they were staying still. Not moving at all. Simply sitting on a cart in a pool of light in the middle of a very long corridor.