AntiBio: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller

by Bible, Jake

  Gorge barks and Blaze turns in time to see the rock coming at him. He tries to duck, but it catches his shoulder, spinning him about. Gorge growls and snarls, launching herself at the woman that threw the rock. There are many screams as rags are torn apart so the bug hound can get to the unprotected flesh underneath. Blaze rights himself and runs towards the rolling heap of rotten cloth and dog hair.

  “Gorge off!” Blaze yells and the dog instantly responds, pulling back from the woman.

  A point blank shot to the chest and the life is burned from her body.

  “Good dog,” Blaze says again.

  Barks, snarls, blasts, shouts, echo off boulders and the rocky hillside the squad finds themselves up against. Moving closer to his squad, Blaze drops seven more hostiles, making sure each blast is a kill shot.

  “You good?” Ton asks as he moves to Blaze’s side.

  “Solid, sir,” Blaze replies. “You?”

  “All good,” Ton says. “Couldn’t be better.”

  “Good here,” Hoagie shouts as his rifle becomes a sparking baton and connects with a man’s skull. Bone cracks and there’s a hiss as fluids vaporize against the static of the baton. Hoagie pulls back and moves in close to Blaze and Ton. “Where’s Paulo?”

  “There,” Milo says, a few feet from the others, his rifle pointing to a man and dog pressed up against the hillside, forced to fight off eight attackers.

  The operators whistle simultaneously and four dogs sprint forward, leaping in the air when they are still several feet away. Paws slam into the backs of four attackers and there are loud grunts and cries of surprise as teeth sink into necks and shoulders.

  Blaze, Ton, Milo and Hoagie are right behind their bug hounds, clutching batons which they bring down onto the skulls of the other four hostiles. The one in front of Milo spins about and jams a blade into the sergeant’s gut before the Cootie falls to his knees, blood pouring from his scalp.

  “Fuck,” Milo gasps as he looks down at the handle protruding from his belly. “Mother fucker.”

  “Hold still,” Blaze says, catching Milo before the man falls to the ground. “I got this.”

  Blaze yanks the blade free then jams his baton into the wound. Milo screams as the torn flesh is cauterized, but he doesn’t lose consciousness. His PSC pumps his body with pain killing endorphins as an automatic response to the trauma while Blaze drags him over against the transport’s hull.

  “Don’t move,” Blaze winks.

  “Fuck you,” Milo gasps, one hand to his gut, the other shifting his baton back to a pistol.

  Tequila plants himself in front of Milo, the dog’s hair standing on end, his legs braced and taught.

  A scream from the end of the transport draws Blaze’s attention and he tries to move that way, but is blocked by a pair of hostiles. Gorge goes for the legs of one man while Blaze swings his baton at the other. The first man hits the ground and his throat is ripped out before he can even scream. The second man dodges Blaze’s attack and lunges with a rusty hunk of metal that’s strapped to the back of his hand. Blaze wraps his arms about the man and throws him to the ground, ignoring the pain in his left bicep.

  Dropping fast, Blaze jams his knee into the man’s throat and twists, crushing his windpipe. As the man lies there, desperately trying to suck in air, Blaze checks the gash on his arm. It’s minor and his suit automatically closes over it as StatFoam fills and cleans the wound.

  Another scream gets Blaze moving and he hustles to the end of the transport where Dr. DeBeers is being dragged off by two women. Afraid of hitting the doctor, Blaze holsters his baton and sprints at the women, Gorge on his heels. He tackles the woman on the right and slams her head into the rocky ground, shattering the woman’s skull. He rolls off and comes up fast, but Gorge has already separated the other woman from Dr. DeBeers and is backing her towards a large granite outcropping.

  “Fucking Cleans,” the woman spits as she kicks at Gorge. “Think you good. Not good.”

  Gorge snarls and lunges, but the woman tucks her body and dives into the attack, knocking the bug hound back. She scrambles to her feet and backs away slowly, her eyes going from Blaze and then to Dr. DeBeers.

  “Bitch,” the woman snaps. “Control enemy-”

  But her words stop there as half of her head is vaporized in a cloud of blue sparks and red blood. The woman staggers a couple more steps then collapses in a heap.

  “What the hell?” Blaze says as he sees the pistol in Dr. DeBeers’s hand. “Where did you get that?”

  “It was on the ground,” Dr. DeBeers says, staring from the pistol to the corpse. “I just picked it up and fired.”

  “I’ll take it,” Blaze says as he holds out his hand.

  A loud banging comes from the cargo hold of the transport and Blaze looks over as the cylinders tumble from the back. He glances at Dr. DeBeers and takes a step back, almost certain the woman is going to shoot him with the pistol. But she holds it out to him instead, her hand shaking uncontrollably.

  “Are you injured?” Blaze asks the doctor as he kneels next to her. Gorge, having finished off the first woman, pads up next to them, her ears turning in all directions as her eyes watch for the next attack. “You going to be alright?”

  “I’m…just shaken,” Dr. DeBeers says. “Where is everyone else?”

  There are a few last screams and shouts then the area grows quiet.

  “I think they are mopping things up,” Blaze says. “Zebra squad?”

  “Clear here, Sergeant,” Ton shouts from around the transport.

  “See?” Blaze smiles, standing and holding out his hand. “Let’s get you up and moving. We can’t stay here.”

  Dr. DeBeers looks at Blaze’s hand and shakes her head. “My StatShield is down,” she says. “I’m not protected against your bacterial load. You could contaminate me if I touch you.”

  Blaze looks at her, puzzled. Then bursts out laughing. He quickly gets himself under control as he sees the look of pure anger on Dr. DeBeers’s face.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “But you are way past contaminated, doc.” He points at the two women’s corpses a few feet away. “I don’t think they are exactly sterile. Not that any of it matters if we don’t get moving. We stay here and more will come. We have to hike it towards Control and hope your Clean Guard meets up with us.”

  “They will,” Dr. DeBeers says. “But we aren’t leaving the transport.”

  “We what?” Blaze asks.

  He whirls around as the sound of gravel shifting catches his ear. Pulling his baton, he snaps it into a pistol and fires, dropping the man that was running at them down the steep hillside. The body continues forward and tumbles up to Blaze’s feet. He looks over his shoulder to see Dr. DeBeers crawling into the transport’s cargo hold.

  “Dr. DeBeers?” he calls. “We can’t stay here. They’ll keep coming and keep coming until our weapons can’t recharge.”

  “Then we barricade ourselves inside the transport,” Dr. DeBeers says, her hands running across the cylinders, checking for damage. “We do not leave this cargo under any circumstances.”

  “I know you have a specific directive, doctor,” Ton says as he walks from around the side, his rifle up and pointed at the hillside. “But Sergeant Crouch is correct in his assessment of the threat. This is the Sicklands. You do not stay in one place in the Sicklands. You keep moving, preferably towards sanctuary.”

  “This cargo is important beyond your comprehension, Lieutenant,” Dr. DeBeers replies. “And I will not leave it. In fact, I will need your squad to transfer these cylinders to the inside of the transport as it appears the cargo hold is no longer secure.”

  “Doctor, listen-” Ton starts.

  “No,” Dr. DeBeers states flatly. “You will comply or I will have your entire squad brought up on charges of sedition. That holds the death penalty in the Clean Nation. You won’t even be given the option to become GenWrecks.”

  “What’s this?” Hoagie asks, joining them. “We’re getti
ng executed? What for?”

  “No one is getting executed if you follow my orders,” Dr. DeBeers says. “I am Control, and Control outranks GenSOF. We are moving the cylinders inside and staying here until the Clean Guard arrives.”

  “May I speak with my squad briefly, doctor?” Ton asks, his face red with rage. “Is that allowable or will I be threatened with execution for that also?”

  “Please do confer with your men, Lieutenant,” Dr. DeBeers says. “But make it brief as we need to secure this cargo before more hostiles arrive.”

  “Sergeants,” Ton says and walks back to the other side where Paulo is crouching next to Milo. “Status?”

  “His suit has given him a sedative,” Paulo says. “But I’m pretty sure there’s internal bleeding. I packed the wound with StatFoam, but he’s looking rough.”

  “Time frame?” Ton asks.

  “He has a dozen hours, maybe more?” Paulo guesses and shrugs. “No way to know for sure without med systems up and running.”

  They all look at the state the transport is in.

  “Don’t see that happening,” Ton says and sighs. “With Milo’s condition we’ll have to camp it here until help arrives.”

  “Not because of the doctor’s threats?” Hoagie asks.

  “I’ve been a soldier for the Clean Nation cities for a long time now,” Ton says. “No bug doc is going to bully me into making a bad choice. We stay because Milo can’t move, not because some bitch told me to.”

  Blaze and Hoagie nod and smile.

  “What did I miss?” Paulo asks.

  “I’ll fill you in as we get Milo inside,” Ton says. “Sergeants Crouch and Menendez? You will bring the cargo around so we can stow it inside as well.” He moves in close and lowers his voice. “Make the bitch happy and act like she’s the reason we’re staying, not Milo.”

  “What about the no bullying?” Hoagie asks.

  “Why waste a perfectly good smoke screen?” Ton shrugs. “Let her think what she wants.”

  “Yes, sir,” Blaze says.

  Ton and Paulo carefully lift Milo and carry him into the transport.

  “Worm?” Blaze calls. “Worm? You active?”

  No response.

  “How damaged do you think he is?” Hoagie asks. “He downloaded himself into the transport. If the machine is dead does that mean Worm is too?”

  “No, no, he had to have time to backup into one of the satellites,” Blaze replies. “Once we can reestablish sat com we’ll hear from him.”

  Hoagie looks up into the grey sky. “What the hell went wrong? No sat com, sketchy info, view screens lying to us then dying? A fuck ton of Cooties laying wait, but not where we thought they’d be? You’d think this was planned.”

  “You’d think,” Blaze nods. “Come on. Let’s move that cargo and dig in. The Clean Guard has almost two hundred clicks to travel before they get here.”

  “Roger that,” Hoagie nods and lets out two sharp whistles then points.

  Blaze does the same and their dogs stand watch, two furry sentries with blood matting down their fur.

  18

  Dr. DeBeers pulls a small box from a pocket on her belt and begins to spray herself liberally. She closes her eyes and holds her breath as StatMist coats her body. It seems to hover just short of clinging to her then dissipates rapidly as she releases the held breath.

  She places the box back in the pocket and pulls out a different box, this one much smaller. She removes a glove and pricks her finger, watching the surface of the box carefully. After about thirty seconds, it glows green and the doctor smiles. Her glove back on, and the small box stowed, she turns to the squad that stands just outside the transport, watching her every move.

  “I don’t believe I have been infected,” Dr. DeBeers says. “I won’t know for sure until I go through a full battery of tests at Control, but my exposure to the Sicklands so far has not been lethal.”

  “Good to know,” Ton says, nodding towards the inside of the transport. “May Sergeant Kim come in and continue tending to our wounded squad member?”

  “Of course, Lieutenant,” Dr. DeBeers nods. “I’ll sequester myself with the cargo. As long as I refrain from any direct contact with any of you I should be in the clear.”

  “Sergeant Crouch, you can stand guard while Sergeant Menendez and I scout the area,” Ton says. “Eyes sharp, operator.”

  “Always, sir,” Blaze responds. Ton locks eyes with him, glances quickly towards Dr. DeBeers and then back. Blaze understands and nods.

  “If we aren’t back in thirty minutes then we aren’t coming back,” Ton says. “Lock the transport down as tight as possible and wait until the Clean Guard arrives.”

  “Yes, sir,” Blaze replies and watches as the two men walk off, rifles up, their dogs flanking them.

  Blaze waits until they are out of sight then leans back against the transport, his body exhausted, but no chance for rest in sight any time soon.

  “How’s he doing?” Blaze asks Paulo.

  “Pulse is low, but steady so I think the internal bleeding is stopping,” Paulo says. “Or not as bad as I thought.”

  “At least Sergeant Kailua won’t die of sepsis,” Dr. DeBeers states. “That is one plus to the bacterial load you operators carry.”

  “One way to look at it,” Paulo nods. He stands and stretches then leaves the transport, nodding to a long row of boulders a few yards away. “Need to hit the latrine. You good here?”

  “I’m solid,” Blaze says. “Have fun crapping in the Sicklands.”

  “Always do,” Paulo says and slaps his thigh, calling Munch to him. The two walk over to the boulders and are quickly lost from sight.

  “Is it safe for him to go that far?” Dr. DeBeers asks

  “He has his bug hound,” Blaze replies. “He’s as fine there as he is here.”

  “Will more come after us?” Dr. DeBeers asks, moving closer to the hatch, but still keeping a safe distance from Blaze. “That seemed like a lot of trouble for them to go to just to give up.”

  “They haven’t given up,” Blaze says, his eyes scanning the area. He’d use his helmet’s sensors, but he wants to conserve power. If something comes at them when the sun goes down, he wants full vision available. “They never give up.”

  “No, they never do,” Dr. DeBeers laughs.

  “Is that funny to you?” Blaze asks, failing at keeping the annoyance from his voice.

  “In an ironic way,” Dr. DeBeers says. “The hostile elements in the Sicklands are like bacteria; always adapting, changing, growing to match their environment. I counted no less than fifteen different afflictions on those corpses out there, yet those people still had the strength to coordinate an attack on a GenSOF transport. If it was just them.”

  Blaze eyes her, but she just smiles.

  “What’s that guy have?” Blaze asks, nodding at a mangled corpse off to his left.

  “I can’t see him,” Dr. DeBeers says. “And I’d rather not step outside if I do not have to. Can you describe his appearance?”

  “Dead,” Blaze says. “Very dead. But before Hoagie made him that way I’d say he had some type of skin condition.”

  “That could be a number of things,” Dr. DeBeers says. “Is the skin mottled?”

  “You mean different colors?” Blaze asks.

  “Precisely,” Dr. DeBeers responds. “Is it?”

  “No,” Blaze says. “More like ulcers and lesions. There’s a lot of pus mixed in with his blood.”

  “Would you say the pus and blood come from the same source? From the lesions?”

  “No, the blood’s coming from the holes in his head and chest,” Blaze replies.

  “Oh,” Dr. DeBeers says. “So just pus from the lesions?”

  “That would be my guess.”

  “Could be a number of bacteria,” Dr. DeBeers says. “More than likelyStaphylococcus aureus. It has probably resulted in furunculosis or botryomycosis. I would lean towards the former since botryomycosis, or pyoderma ve
getans, isn’t nearly as common.”

  “Whatever it is it’s nasty,” Blaze says. “Shit’s just bubbling out of him.”

  “Bubbling?” Dr. DeBeers asks, her attention piqued. She starts to move closer then backs off. “That could be Clostridium perfringens instead. Does his skin look gangrenous?”

  “His body looks gangrenous,” Blaze says. “Cooties aren’t the peak of health.”

  “Cooties,” Dr. DeBeers says quietly. “I hate that colloquialism.”

  “What would you rather we call them?” Blaze asks.

  “The enemy,” Dr. DeBeers answers, taking Blaze off guard.

  He looks over his shoulder at the woman. Her face is obscured by shadow so he can’t see if she is serious or not.

  “Is that surprising?” Dr. DeBeers says. “Did you think a doctor would sound more compassionate?”

  Blaze laughs. “I’ve run into my fair share of bug doctors from Control. I have yet to meet one that I’d consider compassionate.”

  “Then why the look of shock at what I said?”

  “It sounds more military than medical, is all. I thought you’d go for ‘vector’ or something fancy like that.”

  “The term vector is generally used for viruses and other genetic mutations, but I see what you mean,” Dr. DeBeers replies. “You have to understand, Sergeant, that GenSOF isn’t the only ones on the front lines of this war. Every doctor, researcher, tech, and assistant at Control is fully invested in fighting the good fight to take back the Sicklands.”

  Blaze turns fully around and stares at the doctor’s silhouette. “Take back the Sicklands? Are you serious? It can’t be done.”

  She moves forward and Blaze can see a gleam in her eyes as the light from the hatch hits her face. Glancing over at the cylinders then back at Blaze, the doctor looks like she’s about to say something, but stops when she looks past Blaze.

  “All good here?” Paulo asks. “You guys look like you’re having one serious conversation.”