Invasion

by Eli Constant

  “Nick. Jamie. Look at me and tell me you feel completely normal. Look at me and tell me you are okay and won’t put my family in jeopardy.” I stared fiercely and wished I could expect a different answer.

  But they couldn’t tell me that; they couldn’t say they were okay and that everything was hunky-dory.

  Even if they spoke the words, they would be lying. They remained quiet, owning their culpability and the ever-working nanotech running through their systems that was altering God knows what.

  I spoke again, quickly, this time directing my words at everyone.

  “They used themselves as test subjects and inhaled a dosage of the H2H to exam its effects on the human system. Obviously,” I motioned in Jamie and Nick’s direction, “there have been some side effects. I’m not willing to keep them with us. They’re liabilities. I will not risk my daughters, my son, or my husband.”

  Michael’s head whipped towards me sharply. Oops. I’d forgotten we hadn’t told anyone that Jason and I were partnered. Oh well, deal with that issue later.

  The noises from Lab-3 continued. I felt antsy, like everyone was watching me and wondering how I could be such an awful person.

  All Jason said was, ‘I see.’ His decision was evident as his back turned and he began to survey the hall again. Jamie was leaning against Nick, tears in her eyes. I looked at them.

  “I love you both, understand that.” God this hurt. I gestured towards my daughters. “But also understand that I love them more.” They nodded. “Aside from risking us, it’s important that you go with Benson, survive, and document what is happening to you. If H2H has adverse side effects to the human body, you both have to fix it and revise the treatment.” They nodded again.

  I didn’t hug them. I didn’t wave. They walked away silently, into the lab and out of our lives. I wished them success and the finding of a new cure. I wished them health and hoped they would survive. My mind turned to Sheila-1 and the promise I’d made to her. I turned to Jason; he had already moved several steps away.

  “Hold tight for a sec.” I ran after the duo I’d just ousted, opening the door to the lab and yelling. I had no right to ask them for anything, but at times the right action has nothing to do with actual right. “Jamie, Nick!”

  They turned to me. They stood inside the lab, looking lost. I’d made them look that way. There was no hope in their eyes. They were not expecting me to retract my decision, to allow them back into the fold. Perhaps they were resigned to the future they’d fated for themselves.

  “What, Elise?” Nick asked, in a tone that flamed heat and ice in one breath, but ended on a note of acceptance.

  “Sheila-1, if… if she’s stable, do what you can for her; will you? I know you probably hate me, but she deserves…”

  Jamie’s small voice interrupted me. “We don’t hate you, Elise. We knew there might be consequences. We’ll do what we can.”

  Nick nodded and agreed. “We’ll do what we can.”

  “Thank you.” I whispered it, surprised. I don’t think they heard me, my voice so quiet.

  Had I been in their position, had the reverse occurred, and I now stood in front of those who had rejected me, I would not be so civil. I closed the lab door and left Jamie and Nick for the second time.

  We had less protection now. That was a problem.

  Megan held Kara’s hand and Meg walked behind them. Allison moved in to Nick’s vacated position and we began to move again- going even more slowly, our strength and numbers diminished.

  It felt like a great deal of time passed, but we’d finally passed completely through the science wing and exited near the large hangar entrance. We’d not run into any more beasties along the way. However, ‘along the way’ was different than ‘upon arrival.’

  We stood near the hangar entrance and I was examining the gaping hole from afar. We were closer to it than I wanted to be.

  It was huge, more than able to accommodate five men abreast and standing tall. Benson had been right and the doubters must now be feeling fairly abashed. No beasties were nearby; they must have all filtered out into the facility. How many had come through?

  From the slew of people we’d witnessed herding from the residential wing, I’d expected to see more activity in the hangar. How many NORAD inhabitants were already dead? It must be so many… only a few could have survived the slaughter. I thanked God that we’d chosen to walk the scenic route.

  There had been eleven NORAD helicopters in total; three were now missing. I hoped that meant some people had successfully escaped.

  Peters and O’Toole were there, efficiently ordering uniforms and loading equipment into one of the larger helicopters.

  Another chopper was preparing for flight, the rear of its body loaded to capacity with people. Two other choppers were just lifting off. I watched the two rising helicopters briefly as they quickly disappeared from view into vast, open sky.

  Benson came into the hangar moments later with Jamie, Nick, and half a dozen carts. They headed directly for Peters and O’Toole. It dawned on me then that O’Toole would never be able to say goodbye to Meg… his Meg… my Meg.

  Our little group walked towards the furthest helicopter in the hangar. It’s always a mistake to feel home-free before you’re actually home-free. I made that mistake.

  We were only halfway towards our destination.

  It was hard to hear anything above the beating of wings- the helicopter carrying the H2H, the doctors, Jamie, Nick, and basically the hope for the human race, was just lifting off the ground.

  We did not need sound to alert us though. Michael’s roving eyes saw the hangar doors burst open. He shouted a warning that was barely audible.

  The adults in our band of brothers turned instantly to witness the stream of bodies pouring into the cavernous room. They were a sea of varying shades of pale, some verging into the pink spectrum of skin tone. It was transfixing to watch- like a sea of silver fish flocking and glistening intermittently in filtered, sunlit waters.

  And some of the beasties were armed, spears in hand, bows across backs. Just peachy. Fear swelled in my chest.

  And, as always, my ill-placed awe dissipated rapidly and was replaced with a centered focus and violent mental images. The flock of silver released me, no longer captivating me with odd beauty.

  I never would cease to be astonished at how damn fast they were; they were at once in the door and at once on top of us in a singular flash.

  The hope-carrying chopper was about ten feet off the ground. A herd of them charged it. It was a scene that would rival the most amazing acrobatic act; the beasties leapfrogged onto one another- forming an ever-lengthening tower into the sky. I wanted to give the view my total attention, but I had to concentrate on fighting the wall of undergrounders attacking us.

  We kept the fight moving towards the chopper and tried to keep the beasties in front of us and not behind. The occasional arrow flew at us. One grazed the top of my left shoulder- a minor injury, but it hurt like hell.

  My gun clicked empty too soon and I had to revert to knife work.

  We were close enough to our destination now that I pushed Allison and the girls behind me. “Get in the chopper and slide the door closed, now!”

  My appreciation for Allison’s grew as she followed my directions exactly, keeping the girls behind her body and her gun hand ready for action. Jason and Michael volleyed shots into the beastie mass, bodies fell one after another.

  A spear bolted into open sky, heading straight for Jason. I shouted a warning. I thought I was too late, that I reacted too slowly. But Jason hit the ground with force, missing his death by mere inches. The spear clunked against the olive green metal of the helicopter.

  I turned in time to see Benson’s chopper pulled sideways by the skyward line of humanoid bodies. I could see the large man hanging out of the plane, bludgeoning and shooting with a sawed off shot gun. The helicopter straightened as the topmost undergrounder lost its hold.

  The line of bodies
fell backwards, but not before a long arm reached forwards, into the cabin of the chopper, and grabbed a leg.

  That leg belonged to Peters. My scream echoed the muffled sound of his own as he fell towards the ground. I was grateful that I could barely hear the sound of his impact. I was less grateful that my eyes caught every disturbing frame of his body falling and crushing against the concrete, his blood painted a morbid picture across the gray surface.

  I knew Peters’ death was a casualty worth the price as the chopper rose higher into the air and escaped NORAD. Hope survived.

  We weren’t killing enough of them. There seemed to be a new undergrounder for every one that died. I felt like the Argonauts trying to kill the hydra. I didn’t want a freaking golden fleece. I just wanted to get OUT of NORAD.

  Michael and Jason were swallowed up beneath a blanket of pale bodies. I backed away quickly, my body pressed against the helicopter. My girls’ small faces stared at my back in horror. I hoped Meg hadn’t seen Peters falling.

  Allison’s voice yelled for Michael. My voice yelled for Jason. Our partners were in trouble and that was a bad freaking feeling.

  I wanted to help them, but I was the last line of defense to protect my daughters. Shit.

  I looked down at the knife in my hand. Before I could decide what to do, my body was yanked forward. I heard the rip of my shirt as I fell onto the concrete.

  The beastie that bested me was straddling my back side, raking its claws across my rear thigh meat. The khaki shorts I donned became wet and warm. It made me blind with anger, to have my only set of clothes ruined.

  It’s always the little things that bring the larger problems to a head.

  I reared up, adrenaline coursing and face fierce with signage reading ‘die mother-freakers.’ My hand found the rubber of the knife handle- it had fallen from my grip when I was pulled forward. I twisted my upper body and brought my arm around and up into the crouching undergrounder’s abdomen. The spurt of blood that painted my hand made me feel invincible. I felt like someone had flipped my psycho switch.

  Again I was the other me, the woman who reveled in the chaos. I moved with grace and purpose. In some part of my consciousness, I recognized that both Jason and Michael were on their feet again and fighting alongside me.

  I avoided their bodies, tagging them as man in blue and boy in red. The visual distinction allowed me to work around them without having to focus. My energies were better used in bloody games of humanoid hacking.

  I screamed in frustration as hands restrained my body and stilled my movements.

  “Let me go!” I fought, jerking wildly.

  “Elise, stop! Stop!” It was Jason’s voice.

  He had to yell several more times before my brain caught up with my body. I stopped moving, utterly still in my confusion and quickly exhausting as the adrenaline buzz, buzzed-off.

  My eyes searched the room and what I saw was a dozen or so retreating bodies. One tall undergrounder stood erect and ‘spoke.’ Strangely, I recognized him- the one I’d dubbed General from the sky ride of horror.

  He’d followed us here. He’d organized the undergrounders residing in the park and followed us here. It was our fault. Our fault. We’d led him here.

  Michael stood awkwardly, cradling his left arm… cradling what was left of his arm. The fleshy stump below the elbow hemorrhaged blood.

  “Oh. My. God… Michael!”

  Jason turned, his eyes finding what had alarmed me and he paled- a sickly white to rival the most newly surfaced humanoid. I pulled off my ripped shirt and wrapped it tightly around Michael’s wound. I didn’t even care that I was now wearing only a bra and pants.

  “Michael, Michael. Are you okay?” Jason’s voice was frantic. I’d never heard him sound like that; like he didn’t know what to do.

  Jason and I both supported the weakening man-child towards the chopper.

  Allison had the door open, warily scanning. She did not trust the retreat. Smart girl. I was surprised she was keeping her cool, watching her significant other bleeding to death.

  We got Michael into a rear seat. “Allison, sit beside him, help him keep pressure on the wound.” She listened, moving with care and whispering to Michael that everything would be okay. I took off my backpack and dumped it on the floor of the chopper. Unfortunately, none of the other equipment had survived the fight.

  Jason climbed forwards to the front of the helicopter and sat behind the controls. I buckled Megan and Meg in. Kara was too small to sit alone. Her little body warmed my bare skin as I buckled us in together. Jason didn’t wait to see if we were secure.

  He got us in the air quickly. We all waited for a secondary attack, but all we saw were undergrounders growing ever smaller and the one dubbed General watching us thoughtfully. I got the disturbing notion that he had not given up on his prey, but instead had decided to prolong the chase and increase the thrill.

  Lifting up and away from the facility, seeing the faux lake growing smaller with every wing beat, I began to feel a small relief. I stuck out my leg towards my backpack. Hooking one of the shoulder straps with my foot, I pulled it close enough to rummage through.

  My atlas had long been retired, but it was familiar to feel the glossy pages as I pulled it from its resting place. My fingers flipped to a close-up of WA State and my finger drew a progressive path upwards, from page to page, until it rested firmly on the Yukon Territory.

  Another long trip. More uncertainty. But, at least for now, we were far above the danger in a full-of-fuel helicopter. I took a long, steadying breath.

  I’d worry at the next fill up.

  Epilogue

  The first two years that followed our escape from NORAD were brilliant, shiny things.

  Two years of peace.

  I’d always thought that maybe… maybe the beasties, the General from the sky ride and NORAD, would follow us, but they hadn’t.

  We almost lost Michael twice- first to the brutal amputation of his arm and second to a starved grizzly during our first winter months at Bear Cave. Michael’s left arm was a healed nub now, the skin folded strangely over the bone with burns white and ugly from cauterization.

  The grizzly had provided weeks of protein- preserved in a sealed, plastic bucket and buried underneath layers of dirt, ice and snow.

  It had taken several months to make it to the Yukon, painfully slow, but our group arrived intact. I’d thought about pushing us further, following the mountain ranges to Alaska, but there was nothing left. Our batteries were dead.

  We were all exhausted from running, mentally ready to stop, sit and be still- even if that stillness brought a quick and releasing demise. No Alaska. Our home was here now. I hoped it would last.

  My daughters grew at an astonishing rate- none quicker than Meg. We’d integrated her thinking she’d physically stabilized, but that stabilization was short lived.

  It wasn’t long before questions were asked and I’d had to come clean about Meg’s biological origin. Michael and Allison had taken the news fairly well. Megan had just been fascinated. Kara hadn’t really understood- Meg was her sister now, half-beast or half-not.

  Meg was more than happy to drop the childish act and claim herself as wise, hyper-intelligent being. She was not a humble child, nor was she boastful. She was herself and matter-a-fact. We adults came to rely on her for guidance. One dynamic did not change, however.

  I was Meg’s mother. When fear or doubt claimed her, I was her landing ground. I held her, stroked her hair, and reassured her.

  There were times that gave me pause- harkened me to a darker era in my brain. These times were usually brought on by the quiet clicking of a joint, the brightness of her silver-white hair in the sun, the slightly odd way she jerked her neck around to look at things.

  These were my dark moments, straight out of the resentful mother’s handbook, where I saw in her the reason for my husband’s death and the demise of my world. The feelings always passed quickly, fleeting emotions that would not la
st, but were also predictable in the probability of their brief returns.

  We were not alone in the mountains.

  Members of the Vuntuta tribe of the North Yukon had survived against odds and made their new home in the cave networks. From the moment of our arrival, their people had been overtly gracious. They’d walked us through unfamiliar territory, their strong hands teaching us how to survive in the Yukon without tinned food or panty liners.

  We had friends now, a social network that was strong and culturally rich. The modern world had not destroyed the ways of the Vuntuta. I admired their strong sense of self.

  Their tools and hunting styles were simple and effective. The sustainability of our new homestead was assured by their knowledge of wild roots, seeds, and berries.

  Animals were hunted sparingly for their meats. And when the occasional undergrounder wandered into our world, the Vuntuta killed them quickly and without excess brutality. They always buried the bodies, giving our beastie brethren back to the earth.

  It did not go unnoticed that each stray beastie seemed ever more evolved and less… bestial.

  I spent my days teaching the few children in our group from the small fountain of knowledge I possessed. Our school was an open world of rising trees, azure skies, and changing colors.

  Eventually, I was not the teacher, but the taught as Megan and Meg took their stand at the ‘classroom’ front. A young Vuntuta boy named Abram taught the history of his people. It was Megan’s favorite part of the day- when Abram stood tall and proud and spoke of his ancestors.

  Megan was very young, too young at twelve and a half, but when she looked at Abram, I saw in her eyes a pure, child’s love.

  Kara was more than four years old now.

  She was willful and strong. Her hair held sun-lightened strands of red that accented the beautiful brown.

  Each of my daughters had skin kissed by the sun, ruddy cheeks, and earth-blessed clothing. I watched them, my little native girls; they thrived without television, malls, or name brands. I couldn’t help but think, once again, that perhaps God had a purpose in changing the world so fundamentally.