“Oh Jesus,” Vince moaned. “Oh Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.”
They clung to an uprooted tree as it rocketed down the river, tossed and spun by the churning water. Both men were soaked and their teeth chattered uncontrollably from the cold. Heavy rains lashed at them and their despair grew with every mile. Clickers lined both banks and they heard their claws, even over the thunder. Each time the lightning flashed, they saw more of them. So far, they hadn’t spotted any in the water, but Tony wondered if they even would. Maybe the creatures hunted from the bottom. Maybe they wouldn’t see them until it was too late. He readjusted his grip on the wet, slippery bark. The car was gone and with it, the Greek and the briefcase. Terrified as they were, Tony was more scared of what Mr. Marano would do when—if—they made it out of this alive.
“Tony? My arms are getting tired.”
“Hang on, Vince. Just hang on.”
A sudden bump jostled them both and nearly plunged Vince into the rushing water. The big man shrieked. Tony groaned as his stomach lurched.
“Oh fuck this shit,” Vince cried. “Fucking stupid hurricane. Fucking stupid crab monsters.”
“The water is getting rougher. That’s all. Just don’t let go. Ignore the crab monsters!”
“Ignore them? How the hell can I ignore them? They’re all over the place!”
“Close your eyes and think about food.”
Tony looked for landmarks but could see nothing in the spray and darkness. Nothing except the predators lined up along the riverbanks, watching them float by. He shivered and it had nothing to do with the wet or cold. The creatures’ black eyes never changed—just bobbed around atop their long stalks, tracking the log’s progress. And then he saw something else, something behind the monsters. It peered out from between two trees.
“The fuck?”
Tony wiped the water from his eyes with one hand. His other hand gripped the log tighter.
Vince had calmed down some, but his voice grew panicked again when he heard Tony’s tone. “What’s wrong?”
“Saw something. Out there, with those crab bastards.”
“What was it?”
“I dunno. Looked like a guy in a lizard mask or something. Can’t be, though. If there was someone out there, those things would rip him to pieces.”
Suddenly, as if they’d been startled, the Clickers
began to move towards the water. They rose up on their segmented legs and rushed into the river. For a moment, Tony saw their claws jutting up like shark fins. Then those submerged as well.
Oh shit…
“Vince, you still got your gun?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“We’ve got company.” Tony pulled himself up onto the log. “Get your legs out of the water.”
Vince tried to scramble aboard, but his legs kept slipping. “I can’t! Help me.”
Clutching his pistol in one hand, Tony extended his other hand to Vince. He kept his eyes trained on the water around them.
“I can’t reach you.”
Tony leaned closer, still focusing on the river. Dark shapes moved beneath the surface. A flash of light from the shore caught his eye. He glanced up and nearly screamed. A nine-foot-tall man-lizard emerged from the trees, followed by another, then six, then a dozen more. Several of them carried weapons—tridents, clubs, spears, and nets woven from some sort of metallic material. They drove the Clickers before them and took positions on the bank.
“Tony! Pull me up!”
Vince’s cold, wet fingers clasped around Tony’s outstretched hand and pulled. Tony nearly tumbled over the side. Grunting, he yanked backward with all his strength.
“Goddamn it, Vince, you’ve got to—”
Vince stiffened and his fingernails dug into Tony’s skin. He opened his mouth and sighed. His eyes rolled up, showing whites. Then he began to shake. Frantic, Tony stuffed the pistol in his waistband and tugged with both hands. He heaved Vince’s top half out of the water. The man’s lower section was missing. He’d been cut in two at the waist. Retching, Tony let go of the dead man’s arm. Vince splashed into the river and bobbed upward. Tony glimpsed his insides.
“Vince! Come on, man. You’ve gotta live…”
In shock, he reached for Vince again, thinking that if he could just get him to a hospital, the fat man would be okay. Something whistled through the air and slammed into the log. Tony felt a sharp, icy pain in his hand. He looked down and saw a trident pinning it to the log. The weapon had impaled his hand between the wrist and his knuckles. More missiles zipped past him, embedding themselves in the log or splashing harmlessly into the water.
Massive claws erupted from the foam and clenched down on the log with their vice-like grip. The wood began to splinter.
Tony screamed.
The log disintegrated.
And on the shore, the Dark Ones laughed.
* * *
Peachbottom Nuclear Plant
1:15 AM
At the first opportunity, Colonel Livingston attempted to contact the battalion he’d left behind at Camden Yards in Baltimore. He managed to get a squad leader on a frequency that was still operational and asked for a status update. “What’s that?” he yelled into the radio. The squad leader had responded but it was hard to hear what was being said due to the ferocity of the storm.
“…’ve been…ed,” was the response.
“What?”
Suddenly, the connection was clear. “Clickers were defeated, but now there’s something else coming out of the water.”
“Engage them.”
“Begging your pardon, Colonel, but I received word that you were de-activated, sir. We’re reporting to Colonel Allman out of Fort Bragg.”
“Dammit!” Livingston paused briefly to collect his bearings, and then leaned forward over the mike. “Listen to me, soldier. Allman is a good man and a fine soldier, but he doesn’t know what we’re up against. He’s—”
“I’m sorry, sir, but Allman has ordered us to fall back and await further orders, via command of the President.”
“What?”
“We’re moving out now. I’m sorry, sir.”
“What about the—”
“I’ve been ordered to not communicate with you further, sir. Sorry.” The connection was terminated.
“Goddammit!” Colonel Livingston almost threw the mike into the wall. He whirled toward the command center and was struck by how grave and terror-stricken everybody looked. Jeremiah Brown and his team were watching him with expressions of dread. “They’ve stripped me totally,” he said. “They’ve taken me completely out of the loop.”
Jeremiah could only look at him. He’d briefed him on the basics; the man had a good head on his shoulders. He and his team had been monitoring the news and the security systems outside for the past five hours and knew first-hand what was going on outside. Jeremiah looked grave. “At least we’re safe here. This place can withstand a category five storm. We have food and water. We’re out of danger from the storm and the Clickers.”
“But that’s not everything,” Livingston said, turning back to the communications center. After the brief feeling of euphoria he’d felt when he learned that he was being reactivated, that he felt needed and wanted for his expertise and knowledge, now he felt that this same experience was being used against him. It was a crude vendetta. “I only hope my unit…the men I’ve already briefed…what I’ve told them…I hope they listen to wisdom and stick with it.”
“We can only hope, sir,” Jeremiah said.
There was a brief screech from outside. The howling of the wind had picked up in ferocity. Tranning ran into the room, breathless and pale.
“You’ve rounded up the dissenters?”
Tranning nodded, still trying to catch his breath. “Colonel,” he gasped. “We’ve got Clickers in the perimeter.”
“Engage!”
“Yes, sir.” Tranning whirled and ran to relay the order.
Livingston frowned. “I think we might need to escala
te my plan. You have video recording equipment on hand?”
Jeremiah nodded. “Yes, I believe so.”
“Get it. We can’t wait to do a press conference. I need to get our message out now.”
* * *
Various locations along the East Coast
1:20 AM
The Dark Ones had continued their onslaught all up and down the eastern seaboard. Some of them dragged old weapons on shore with them; tridents and spears rescued from long-sunken ships. They came ashore and made stealth attacks in remote locations. An old man who lived by himself on the outer banks of North
Carolina was garroted by a trio of Dark Ones who dined on his corpse as the hurricane raged overhead. Between Jacksonville and St. Augustine, Florida, they made a stealth invasion on beachfront homes and ransacked those that were empty. The few people they found inside trying to ride out the storm were slaughtered mercilessly.
In Stone Harbor, New Jersey, Franklin Young was asleep on the top floor of his family’s beach house when the Dark Ones burst into the flooded living room downstairs. The sudden barrage of noise woke him up and he fumbled for his handgun. The weapon was no match for the Dark Ones, however. They’d caught Franklin’s scent from outside, and honed in on it. The .22 shells he fired into the creatures did minimal damage to the Dark One’s thick, scaly hides and death for Franklin Young was mercifully swift.
In Mannheim, Pennsylvania a Mennonite businessman was holed up in his den, unable to sleep due to the ferocious storm when a trio of Dark Ones burst into his house. The roof’s blown off, was his last thought before a dark, green thing towered above him and launched a maw of razor sharp teeth into his head. The man bleated once, and then his skull was crushed between massive jaws as the Dark One began to feed. Within moments, the other two Dark Ones converged to lay claim on other portions. The Mennonite businessman was split evenly three ways down the gullets of the Dark Ones, who then set forth for more.
In New York City, Connie Stewart, Derek Brubaker, and Bob Ellison had found a secure spot in a storeroom upstairs, directly over O’Mally’s bar. They’d watched in terror as the giant Clickers roamed up and down the street, occasionally mowing people down. When they saw the first signs of the Dark Ones, Bob Ellison reacted immediately. “Get down!” They ducked beneath the window and Bob found an old quilt in the corner of the storeroom and draped it over them. Connie asked what the hell he was doing and he whispered: “My buddy told me about these things. If they’re what I think they are, they rely on smell and this blanket will mask our scent.” Fortunately for them, Bob Ellison’s friend, who was into conspiracy theories but had never seen a Dark One, much less Bigfoot or a Chupacabra, was correct. The Dark Ones passed O’Mally’s bar completely. Instead, they ventured across the street and proceeded to dine on stranded restaurant patrons who’d been holed up at Ray’s Famous Pizza.
* * *
Peachbottom Nuclear Plant
1:31 AM
Jennifer stood off to one side, wringing her hands while Rick and Colonel Livingston argued. The old man was adamant that Rick should appear alongside him in the broadcast and Rick was steadfast in his refusal. Rick kept pleading that Livingston consider “Melissa,” and accusing the Colonel of using him. Livingston stood behind a podium with the nuclear regulatory insignia on it. He pounded the top of the podium with his fist and the tips of his ears were red. Several of the civilian employees were angered as well. Apparently, Livingston had ordered several of them, along with a handful of soldiers, to be placed under arrest. They were currently being held in a locker room and armed guards had been posted.
“Colonel,” a technician hollered, “the situation is getting worse outside. With all due respect, if you’re gonna do this, do it now.”
Fuming, Livingston dismissed Rick with a wave of his hand. Then he motioned for Jennifer and Richard to join him at the podium. They shuffled nervously through the crowd and stood beside him. Richard wiped his glasses on his wet, dirty shirttail and tried to smile. It wasn’t convincing.
“I have to warn you both,” Livingston said, “that what we’re about to do is treason. I’m sure you both know the possible penalties involved. This is nothing short of a coup attempt.”
“We know,” Jennifer said. “But there’s no other way. Too many people have died tonight. They didn’t have to. We have to stop this now.”
The old man smiled and patted her hand. Then he turned to Richard.
“And you, Doctor Linnenberg? Are you absolutely positive you want to go through with this?”
“I love my country, Colonel.”
Livingston breathed a heavy sigh. “Okay then. Let’s do it.”
The technician called for silence, and then got behind the camera.
“Okay, and five…four…three…two…one.”
He pointed at the Colonel and a red light went on. Livingston stared at the camera, frozen. Jennifer reached down and squeezed the old man’s hand.
“It’s okay. We’re with you.”
Colonel Livingston cleared his throat and then began to speak.
“Good morning. My name is Colonel Augustus Livingston, U.S. Army, retired. Yesterday, my country had need of me and I answered the call. I was asked to defend you; to defend your lives and your homes, and I did as I was asked. Today, the battle continues. My fellow Americans, we have all suffered losses. The situation is dire. As I stand here before you, our nation is beset by enemies on all sides; from the uncontrollable forces of nature, the creatures that have decimated our coastal cities all along the Eastern seaboard, and more insidiously, from within our own Capitol. President Tyler and his cabinet, in conjunction with other clandestine forces within our government, have conspired to cover up the truth about the events of the last twenty-four hours. They have assured you that the situation is under control. It is not. They have hamstrung the military and National Guard and both the local and federal emergency services—the very people who are supposed to protect you cannot do so because of our government’s incompetence. Our leaders in Washington have only made things worse, and the cost was paid with American lives.
“Indeed, this didn’t have to happen at all. It could have been prevented. Most of you will remember Hurricane Floyd. In 1994, it wreaked havoc on Maine’s northern coast, killing over 1,800 people. The heaviest damage occurred in a town called Phillipsport. What you didn’t know is that most of the deaths in Phillipsport had nothing to do with the storm; they were caused by the very same creatures that have attacked us today. Our government knew about them then and conspired to keep the knowledge secret. Civilians who survived the 1994 attack and had knowledge of these creatures were threatened and forced into hiding for fear of their very lives. Sadly, I was part of this vow of secrecy because at the time I thought it served our nation’s interests. However, I also warned those in command of a greater danger and of the absolute certainty that this would happen again. My warnings were ignored, particularly by the Tyler administration, and now we see the ramifications of it.
“With me are Doctors Jennifer Wasco and Richard Linnenberg. Both are renowned in the field of marine biology, and both can verify that the creatures currently attacking our nation—Clickers, to use the popular term— present a far greater danger than the President is admitting. Those of you watching this are probably wondering just what the situation is on the East Coast. Perhaps you’ve only heard scattered reports or rumors. That is because the President ordered a media blackout in the interests of national security. But those interests serve neither the nation nor its security. For you are our nation and you are in danger. The President did this to serve his religious ideology and the ideology of those who support him. You’re not getting information because he thinks it will be detrimental to you. But not having the facts may very well cost you your life.
“I’m sure that our citizens in the effected areas can’t hear me, but for the rest of you, here is what you need to know. The Mid-Atlantic region is currently suffering from the catastrophic afte
rmath of Hurricane Gary. In addition to that, the entire East Coast, from Maine all the way down to Florida, is under attack by these Clickers. They are predators and carnivores, and you should exterminate them on site. Believe me when I say they will not hesitate to do so to you. They can move about on both the land and sea, and can survive in salt water and fresh water. The Clickers are impervious to small arms and other weapons, but high caliber firearms and other projectiles that can pierce their shells can bring them down. They are especially vulnerable to fire. They are spreading farther inland, and it is possible that they may show up on our Gulf and Pacific coasts as well. Arm yourselves and make defenses. If you do not have access to heavy weaponry, then take shelter immediately. Most importantly, support your military, law enforcement, and emergency management officials. Help them help you, because our government is not.
“I mentioned that the creatures are moving inland. Doctor Wasco says this is not normal behavior for them. Normally they would not stray so far from their home. The reason they are doing so now is because they are being driven forward—herded if you will—by an even deadlier enemy. We’ve taken to calling this second race of creatures ‘Dark Ones.’ They are reptilian and walk erect on two legs. They are incredibly intelligent, have reasoning capabilities equal to that of mankind, and can use weaponry. Some of you might be thinking that this sounds like a bad movie. Trust me when I tell you I have never been more serious.
“It is my belief, and the belief of my associates, that these Dark Ones set the initial attack in motion in an effort to throw our nation into chaos and disarray so that they might then launch a second attack. They have achieved this with remarkable results, aided by both the hurricane and by the ineptness of our President. His sheer arrogance and ignorance has aided the enemy and Americans have paid the price.
“I call for President Tyler to step down. I call for his cabinet and supporters to also step aside. If no one will guide this country and do what must be done to protect it, then by God, I will. I, Colonel Augustus Livingston, am calling for a national show of no confidence in our leadership. I’m asking all American citizens, be they military or civilian, to stand beside me and defend this nation from the forces both within and abroad. I’m asking that our allies come to our aid, as we have done so many times in the past for you. My fellow soldiers, I’m asking you to disobey your direct orders and do the job you enlisted for. Protect your country.
Clickers II: The Next Wave Page 21