Clickers II: The Next Wave

by J. F. Gonzalez

  “Listen, man,” Rick said, and he started babbling immediately. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m only—”

  “I know, I know,” Livingston said, his voice soothing. “You’re William Mark. Who else could you be?”

  Rick stopped babbling. He appeared momentarily stunned. “Um…I don’t know.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, you’re William Mark.” Livingston leaned forward. “Just like you told us when we picked you up. But it’s good to see you in any case.

  Rick managed a weak smile. “Despite everything, it’s good to see you too, Colonel.”

  “How you feeling?”

  “Oh…Okay…I guess.”

  “You had blood on your hands.” Livingston motioned to his shirt. “There’s blood on your shirt. You hurt anywhere?”

  “No.” Livingston could tell Rick was evading his questions. Something happened to him that he didn’t want to talk about.

  “The girl who was in here, the doctor—she won’t tell anyone who you are. She and her boss are the only ones who know. Nobody else knows you’re here.”

  Rick licked his lips. “That’s good.”

  “Nobody knows you’re here,” Livingston repeated.

  “I know.”

  “Nobody knows you’re here,” Livingston stressed it a third time. “Do you understand?”

  Rick looked at him. Their eyes locked briefly. Rick understood.

  He looked down at the floor, nodded. “Yeah, I understand.”

  “Good. Nobody will find out, either.”

  Rick looked back at Livingston again. “Promise?” His voice was lowered, pleading.

  “Yes.”

  Rick sighed. He seemed to relax. He slumped back on the sofa.

  Livingston leaned forward. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. “Have you seen any Dark Ones yet?”

  Rick shook his head. “N..no. No, not yet.”

  “Just Clickers?”

  Rick nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Why are you out here?”

  Rick sighed, his eyes flicking around the room. “God, it’s a long story.”

  “Simplify it for me.”

  Rick’s eyes darted around the room briefly, as if he were trying to find something hidden, then he began telling his story. He started by telling Livingston he was in Philadelphia because his mother had passed on. He skimmed on the details. He brought the story to a close by relating that he was trying to drive west but was forced off the highway in York, Pennsylvania and then was carjacked. “I had to defend myself,” Rick said.

  Livingston nodded. The blood was explained. He had no intention of finding out what happened to Rick’s assailant. “Of all the things that could happen,” Livingston said, shaking his head in astonishment. “This beats the cake. Carjacked and assaulted in the middle of a goddamned hurricane while those things are out there crawling all over the countryside.”

  “You said the woman’s a doctor?” Rick asked. “What kind? And who’s the guy?”

  “Dr. Jennifer Wasco and Dr. Richard Linnenberg, scientists with the Baltimore Inner Harbor Aquarium. Wasco is an expert on invasive species.” Livingston brought Rick up to date with his activities over the past twelve hours and when he was finished Rick looked less stressed, more relaxed.

  “So they know everything?” Rick asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Do they believe?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In the Dark Ones.”

  Livingston thought about it for a moment. “Wasco does. I’m not sure about Linnenberg, although I wouldn’t doubt it after what he’s seen today.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Livingston rose to his feet. “We’re safe here for now. Just waiting for the storm to blow over. Hopefully, our outer defenses won’t be too badly damaged. We expect this area to be crawling with Clickers momentarily. Nothing we can do but wait—and make sure we’re ready for them. Meanwhile, I need to establish a command center and plug back in, get briefed on the latest. I’m going to ask Dr. Wasco to prepare a report on the Clickers. Perhaps you can help. I could use your—”

  Rick shook his head. “Uh uh, you said nobody would know who I am. If I talk about it with her and someone else overhears us, they’ll find out who I am and—”

  Livingston looked grave. “I’m going to be tied up directing operations. I need you, Rick.”

  Rick frowned. “My name’s not—”

  “Okay, okay, William.” Livingston looked annoyed. “You have my solemn word that I will have you under protective custody. Dr. Wasco has been able to piece things together through research. She’s not only a specialist in invasive species, she’s taken a keen interest in Homarus Tyrannous and other species long thought extinct. She’s a respected scientist and if we can get her on TV to positively identify these things, it will do a world of good. The goddamn President and his band of lunatics have been spinning this thing like crazy, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Rick sniggered. “No shit! They’ve been calling the Clickers ‘local wildlife’.”

  “My point exactly. As far as I know, no reputable scientist has examined them, nor do they have knowledge of them, so their best efforts are being downplayed by those fanatics at the White House. Jennifer is all we have in turning the tide here and she’s going to need you.” Livingston paused briefly. “Please.”

  Rick sighed. “Okay.”

  Livingston clapped Rick’s shoulder. “Good. Thank you. Your country thanks you as well.”

  Rick sneered. “You’ll understand if I don’t feel too patriotic right now, Colonel.”

  Livingston rubbed his forehead. “You might be surprised. Our current administration is an abomination. They stand for everything I’ve ever fought against. But I’m too old to start a coup.”

  Rick got to his feet. Under the soft lighting of the lounge, he looked frail, weak. His long graying hair was damp. “I wish I could get a change of clothes.”

  “Let’s see if we can get Mr. Brown to procure something for you,” Livingston said.

  Livingston led Rick out of the lounge and found Jeremiah, who was waiting at a guard station. “Any way we can get a change of clothes for Mr. Mark?” Livingston asked.

  “That should be no problem,” Jeremiah said. “Come this way.”

  Fifteen minutes later Rick was in a fresh change of clothes courtesy of the U.S. Government. Jeremiah had retrieved them from a stash of spare maintenance department uniforms. The blue coveralls were loose and billowy around him, but they would do. He cinched them around his waist with some bailing twine. Rick felt nervous as he was introduced to Dr. Richard Linnenberg and Dr. Jennifer Wasco, who were relaxing in the main command center of the plant. Livingston drew them both aside. “You have fifteen minutes for him to fill you in on his observations about what happened in Phillipsport,” he told them. “Then I need you to prepare a quick statement. I’m going to arrange to have you give a statement to the press as soon as we can establish contact and gather them together. If the President and his cabinet refuse to get word out to people on the East Coast—word that can save them—then we’ll do it.”

  Livingston could tell Jennifer was excited about meeting a first-hand witness to the Phillipsport tragedy, but she did a good job in keeping her enthusiasm subdued.

  “Sure thing, Colonel. Thanks.”

  First Lieutenant Tranning approached. “Excuse me, Colonel.”

  “Yes, Tranning?”

  “I contacted Washington to give them an edited status report on our position and Secretary Barker said that he must speak to you.”

  “Let’s go deal with him, then.”

  He turned to Wasco and Linnenberg as he headed to the busy command center. “Go easy on him. He’s had a rough night.”

  “We all have,” Richard said.

  When they reached the command center, Tranning picked up a secure phone line and dialed a number. He listened for a moment, and then handed the receiver to Livingston. A femal
e voice said, “Please hold for Secretary Barker.” Save for the static of television screens showing stations that had been knocked off the air due to the storm, the command center was quiet.

  The other end of the line opened up and Barker came on. “Livingston? That you?”

  “Yes, Barker.”

  “I’m sorry to have to do this, Colonel.” Barker sounded embarrassed. “But I’m afraid I have to relieve you of your duties. You’re—”

  “What?” Colonel Livingston suddenly found it hard to breathe.

  “—to return to Fort Detrick as soon as the hurricane is over. You will then be flown home immediately.”

  “Have you lost your fucking mind? We’re at war, Mr. Secretary. What’s the reason for this?” Livingston could barely contain his anger. He wanted to reach into the phone and strangle Barker.

  Barker’s voice trembled. “I’m sorry, but I have my orders.”

  “On who’s authority?” Livingston yelled.

  “On the President’s!” Barker said. Now he sounded a little more authoritative.

  “I don’t understand,” Livingston said. “I was reactivated because of my experience with what we’re dealing with. Why am I—”

  “You are being dismissed for disobeying my orders,” Barker said. Livingston could now detect the faint tinge of superiority in the man’s voice. “I issued a simple command to you to help secure order. You ignored me and began giving orders that run contrary to this mission. Commandeering one of our nation’s nuclear facilities is just one example. You were not authorized to do that.”

  “We’re at war,” Livingston repeated, barely able to conceal his rage and disgust. “And your reason is bullshit. What’s really going on?”

  “Your continued promotion of illogical science and untruths of the wildlife that is currently causing temporary havoc is another reason why the President—”

  “Oh, blow it out your ass, Barker!” Livingston fumed, and now the floodgates opened. “I see this for what it is. That jackass of a President you bow to finds it hard to accept that his little fantasy world is falling apart around him. That’s it, isn’t it? He can’t accept the fact that there are creatures unknown to modern science wreaking havoc on our world because he can’t accept the fact that legitimate scientists and not those numbfucks from…Bob Jones University or whatever bullshit college Tyler went to…he can’t accept that legitimate scientists are unanimous in saying these creatures were previously thought extinct. That’s it, isn’t it, Barker?”

  A pause, then, “I’ve got no choice. You have to understand…”

  “Bullshit, you sniveling little worm. Forget politics for a minute. Our actions over the next few hours will affect millions of lives. Be a fucking man and grow some backbone.”

  “This conversation is ended. Our experts tell us the storm will begin to weaken within the next two hours. Report back here, directly to me.”

  “You want me so bad; you come on up here and get me yourself. You’re Tyler’s dog. Fetch.”

  Barker’s voice was strained. “If we don’t see you by 0600 hours, we’ll assume you’ve gone AWOL. We can spin it as treason if need-be.”

  “Spin it however you want, you little fuck. Like I said, if you want me, you’d better send your best men— and a body bag for each of them.”

  “There will be consequences, Colonel Livingston.”

  The line went dead.

  “Goddammit!” Livingston slammed the phone down.

  Tranning looked concerned. “Trouble, sir?”

  “Yes, Tranning, there’s trouble. President Tyler is losing his fucking mind.”

  “Losing?” The officer arched an eyebrow. “I thought he’d lost it a long time ago.”

  A head poked out behind a cubicle wall where a group of technicians were gathered around watching a computer screen. “Colonel Livingston? There’s something you should see.”

  Curious, Livingston and Tranning made their way to an area that served as a bullpen. Four technicians were seated on chairs at various workstations, along with Jeremiah. There were computers and banks of electronic equipment and it overlooked a larger work area in the lower level that was now empty of people. “Report,” Livingston said.

  Jeremiah pointed at a large computer flat screen. “Obviously, the massive power outages are no problem for us. We’ve still got some internet access and dedicated phone lines. The cables are buried.”

  “What are we watching?”

  “This is playing now on a live-feed across the networks and cable news stations.”

  President Tyler was giving another speech from a secure location in the White House. His once-youthful features were glazed, his skin pale. To Livingston, he looked like he was enthralled in some form of religious mania. “So when I say to you that the scientists who have been on all these shows saying that the creatures that are attacking people are related to dinosaurs, I’m telling you this is false. These are not government scientists. This is not the official White House stance on this tragedy. This is an attempt by our enemies in the media who wish to undermine our security and safety for a chance to strike a blow at this administration, which rejects all claims of—”

  “Oh my God,” Livingston said. “What the hell is he doing now?”

  “This guy is something else, isn’t he?” The tech said, shaking his head.

  “—the contrary. Now there’s a saying popular among many respected people in the scientific community, that the earth is billions of years old. But when the majority of the citizens of this great country are Christian, who believe in the Bible which offers no direct proof to the contrary…which, by all evidence from the various books within the New and Old Testament suggests that the earth is no more than ten thousand years old…and when so many people place—”

  “I don’t believe this,” Livingston said. “Bad enough the country is under attack from the Clickers. Now it’s besieged from within by a religious fanatic as well.”

  Jennifer, Richard, and Rick entered the room.

  “What’s going on?” Jennifer asked.

  “Our fanatic of a President is losing his goddamned mind!” Livingston said.

  “—Colonel Livingston has been relieved of his command. Yes, next question?”

  Rick, Jennifer, and Richard glanced at him in shock. Livingston felt his ears burn.

  “No,” the President responded to another question from the press. “We cannot confirm or deny that a renegade outfit, led by Colonel Livingston, has seized a nuclear power plant. As I said before, Livingston has been relieved of his command. This is the Lord’s will and He shall—”

  Tranning cleared his throat. “Permission to speak, sir?”

  “Permission granted.” Livingston went rigid, half-expecting the officer to arrest him right there.

  “Sir,” Tranning continued, “there’s a hurricane going on outside. I don’t think we got that last transmission. Far as I’m concerned, you’re still in charge.”

  Livingston pulled him aside so that the others gathered around the computer monitor couldn’t hear.

  “Tranning, we may need to make a command decision.”

  The young officer blinked, but said nothing.

  “Do you understand what I’m implying?”

  “I think so, sir.”

  “How many of our men would disagree with such an option?”

  Tranning shrugged. “Hard to say for sure, Colonel, but I think most would side with us, given the situation.”

  Livingston nodded. “Good. Find out who would stand against us, and then lock them up somewhere on site. Same with the plant’s staff and any other civilians.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but should we really take men away from the fight?”

  “If they won’t stand with us, then yes. I’m reluctant to do so, but this nation has other enemies to worry about now. It’s no longer just the Clickers.”

  “I’ll see to it, sir.”

  “Carry on, son. Carry on.”

 
Tranning hustled off and the old man rejoined the others. For the next ten minutes all they could do was stand in stunned silence as President Tyler told the people of the United States not to listen to the most respected scientists of the world, that God would take care of everything, that the creatures currently causing so much havoc were not an unknown species and that very soon things would be back to normal.

  And Colonel Livingston was left wondering if his plan to defend his country against enemies both within and abroad would work. Scowling, he turned to Jeremiah.

  “You want to live?”

  “Yes. Very much.”

  “Do you trust me, or are you siding with that limp dick on television?”

  “I’m with you, Colonel. The Clickers are right outside. President Tyler isn’t. You know best how to deal with them. He doesn’t.”

  “Good. You said you have communications with the outside.”

  Jeremiah nodded.

  “Excellent. Invite the media down here. Get them on standby. We’re going to deal with the Clickers. When that’s over and the storm has passed, we’re going to have a press conference. I think it’s high time the American public found out about Phillipsport—and what’s occurred tonight.”

  “Philli—” Jeremiah began, but before he could finish,

  Rick cut him off.

  “Colonel, you can’t! What about Melissa? They’ll kill us.”

  Livingston faced him slowly.

  “Ri...” He caught himself just before he called Rick by his real name. “William, you’re just going to have to trust me as well.”

  * * *

  The Susquehanna River

  Near the Pennsylvania/Maryland Border

  12:48 AM

  “Trust me, you fat fuck.” Tony went under briefly, resurfaced, and spat out a mouthful of water. “You can do this!”

  Vince’s face was panic-stricken. His legs kicked wildly. “No I can’t, Tony. I can’t fucking swim. You gotta help me stay afloat.”

  “Just hang on to the log. Don’t let go.”