Clio and Cy: The Apocalypse

by Christopher Lee

  The Marine’s radio channel was synced with the Army’s frequency at the St. Regis Hotel. Same as the Devil Dogs were, the soldiers were scrambling on high alert.

  Several heavily armed Ker had flanked the building on the north side after the first ones were seen on the south side.

  Two hundred men on the tenth floor clubroom/pool area began running down adjacent passageways. Hauling ass inside both stairwells, Marines raced down and joined their brothers who were streaming off each floor. Empty for years, the sound of voices ricocheting off concrete walls filled the cavernous stairwell space - echoing from twenty-one to the basement floor.

  Rockets slammed into the side of the building. “Boom!” The deafening violence swept Marines off their feet. “Boom!” The building crumbled around them as men staggered for balance and fell. After getting back to their feet, the Devil Dogs ran for ground zero.

  Destroyers continued to fire missiles from FGM-500 Javelin tank busters. The Ker held the portable rocket launchers on their shoulders, fired, and then dropped the weapon directly behind them into arms of a Sentinel bot for reloading.

  Blasting out, the javelin projectiles trailed vapor lines through the sky and then angled up five hundred feet away from their destination; target acquired, they swooped down leaving crescent shapes in their wake. Popping up made the missiles appear to be getting a better look at the Eclipse before slamming into its exterior concrete.

  “Boom! Boom! Boom!” The Destroyers continued bombarding, shattering glass and twisting girders, pummeling men on a sadistic and unrelenting bouncy ride.

  A Marine fell from the nineteenth floor going over a handrail. “AHHHhhhh!” His scream passed the other Marines in a sickening cry for help. Catching the edge of the wall, his head smacked, killing him before he splattered at the bottom.

  Dust rose up from inside the crumbling structure; impeded, the Marines began stacking up, trapped at the basement level. Egresses were blocked and chunks were piled high as if the Eclipse were snowing a concrete blizzard. The humans couldn’t exit the bottom of either stairwell to escape.

  Breaking legs and ankles, men jumped off lower level balconies.

  Surrounding the building, the Ker fired at will and killed without compassion. Tank busters launched from all sides at the Saipan 2. “Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!”

  “Go back! Go back up!” a Marine shouted from the crowd. It took a painstakingly long time for the line to start moving again as the men stood looking up the stairwell in a huddled mass of confusion. “Go! Go!”

  Twenty-one floors up, the SGT stationed on the roof stayed put. His orders were to remain elevated and give SITREP (Situation Reports) while the battle ensued. His knees buckled from the bombardment of rockets as much as they did from his shaky nerves. Hearing post tension cables snap, he felt the building sway as if he were on top of a wire suspended bridge.

  The SGT ran to the edge and watched in shock as six Ker fired in unison.

  All six rockets struck the side of the building, sending him tumbling to the center of the roof. He stood up and the floor dropped like a rollercoaster. In a blur, the horizon changed and the cityscape disappeared after he landed on his back. The Marine’s stomach flew out and lodged into his throat. He plummeted while looking skyward. The sinking feeling mounted in his gut, flying inside him like a churning wraith, queasy.

  He was falling… And so was the building.

  The Marine almost blacked out from the speed he was traveling south. Halfway down his head smacked the deck, momentarily knocking him unconscious. With broken bones, he regained his awareness and saw it coming.

  An AAON system the size of a panel truck went whizzing by his head. Wincing in pain, he realized the second cooling system wasn’t going to miss. The last thought he had was, shit, I’m dead already, disappointed that he never got to fire a shot in anger. AAON two crushed him as the high-rise toppled to the ground.

  The building pancaked over three hundred Marines that were still trapped inside.

  CHAPTER 25 - TROUBLED BROW

  Alexandria, VA:

  “Good morning, Dr. Marcus.”

  Dr. Pressfield glanced at Cy but didn’t answer as he looked back at his computer.

  “What’s wrong, Dr. Marcus?”

  “Ahh…” Marcus paused… His mouth opened as if he was going to speak. Nothing came out as he slowly closed his lips. He paused again… “It’s this email, Cy… I received a disturbing message,” Dr. Pressfield announced as he leaned back and crossed his arms, still staring at the screen, feeling the homes generator vibrating.

  “I can tell it’s troubling you, Dr. Marcus.”

  “Yes Cy… very troubling… it’s not good. Not good at all,” he said shaking his head.

  “Shall I prepare breakfast for you, Dr. Marcus?”

  Dr. Pressfield didn’t answer as he leaned in and continued to read the email over again.

  Cy knew that Dr. Pressfield wasn’t paying attention to him. Dr. Marcus would answer when he was ready. Cy zipped his lips and remained quiet.

  “The new Capital in Atlanta is under attack,” Dr. Pressfield stated, leaning in and making sure the message was correct after reading it a third time.

  “You’re not thinking of another test are you, Dr. Marcus?”

  Remaining in deep thought, Dr. Pressfield turned away from the computer and looked out the window… “What? No Cy, this isn’t something we can help with.”

  Cy knew that there was no way the President could be rescued at this point, but still, he wondered… wondered if Dr. Marcus might have something in mind. Cy wanted to help as much as Dr. Pressfield did.

  The cyborg pondered... But what could be done, the siege is already taking place and we’re seven hundred miles away?

  “I wish there was something we could do… but…” Dr. Pressfield started to say.

  “If you sent me, I would surely perish against such odds, Dr. Marcus.”

  Dr. Pressfield whipped his head around and stared at his beloved cyborg as if he’d said something wrong. “Yes Cy. You’re right about that…”

  “I will gladly go if you wish me to, Dr. Marcus.”

  Dr. Pressfield strained a smile. “I know you would, Cy.”

  “Who is the email from, Dr. Marcus?”

  “From a Marine Colonel I worked with a few times… He was there when I pitched my first project about designing… well making splendid creatures like you,” he said, pointing at Cy.

  “You like him don’t you, Dr. Marcus?”

  “He was a big supporter of what I was... of mine… Yes, Cy… I always liked Colonel Reagner.”

  “Coffee, Dr. Marcus,” Cy said handing Dr. Pressfield a steaming cup of black java.

  “Hard not to… thank you, Cy. Hard not to like someone that was in my corner when so many others thought I was a nut.”

  “I see, Dr. Marcus…”

  “Been an hour since I’ve heard from him… He won’t email me back now. I’m afraid he’s probably dead…” Dr. Pressfield stated while rising up from his chair.

  Dr. Pressfield and Cy both froze. It was at the living room window.

  “Ssshhhhaaa,” it hissed and clawed its nails down the glass.

  Marcus Pressfield hated the dark; moreover, he hated not letting the sunlight shine inside his home. For the sake of sleeping more soundly, bedrooms were boarded up, but he couldn’t bear to cover the living room and kitchen. Besides, he had Cy to protect him. In the present moment, however, he thought better of leaving things so exposed.

  In order to protect, Cy disobeyed Marcus for the first time. Cy ran out the front door and Marcus yelled. “No! Cy! Stay in here!”

  Flinging the door shut behind him, the cyborg disappeared outside.

  Dr. Pressfield ran toward the glass and the creature disappeared from view. Marcus franticly moved around and stood on his tiptoes trying to get a better look. Too many things were blocking so he ran toward the door and saw them squaring off through stained glass.

 
; Dr. Pressfield boldly opened the door and stood on the front porch. His instinct to protect Cy quickly evaporated after the terrifying sight of the monster, followed by a foul smell. Dr. Pressfield was dangerously close to a grotesque mutation, one that his stolen seed had grown into. It looked like a demon from hell.

  Cy pointed at Dr. Pressfield. “Don’t be afraid, Dr. Marcus,” he said, keeping a bead on the monster.

  Marcus couldn’t obey his cyborg’s command. He thought he might pee in his pants right then and there. Dr. Pressfield wanted to shout at Cy but thought better of it, and decided not to distract his cyborg. Trembling as if he was in the arctic without a jacket, Dr. Pressfield watched the scene with prickly skin and rattling teeth.

  The creature’s disgusting smell poisoned the air, wafting stronger as it hissed at the cyborg. The thing stopped and stared directly at Dr. Pressfield, smelling his fear and letting him know… you’re next.

  The creature stood on its hind legs and turned to the cyborg, and then coiled down. It lunged at Cy and jumped through the air. Being the weight of a young teenage boy, Cy flew back when the monster struck him.

  Seeing his cyborg stumble back and go end over end, Dr. Pressfield almost shit himself.

  Cy deflected the monster’s shot and regained his footing, he stood back up, ready to engage. Soiled, Cy’s hair was messy and his shirt was covered with dirt and leaves.

  “Ssshhhhaaa!” The creature circled thinking of a new strategy, surprised how light and fast his prey was.

  Cy squared off with the flesh-eater and crouched in a fighting stance. The creature went for it again and flew through the air. Sidestepping the beast, the cyborg threw a lightning punch, striking the creature’s ribs. “Eeeroh!” The monster squealed as its bones cracked from Cy’s fist.

  Recomposed, the flesh-eating humanoid attacked. It came back hard, staying close to the ground, aiming for Cy’s legs. The young cyborg kicked the creature’s head as if it were a soccer ball. “Eeeroh!” it squealed again, wincing as it tumbled over the dirt, bleeding from the friction of impact.

  Back to its feet again, the beast turned and stood on its hind legs. “Ssshhhhaaa!” it hissed in painful anger. The demonic humanoid was determined to kill Cy, appearing to have the look of a vengeful human in its eyes.

  Coiling with murder in its eyes, the beast sprang, jumping high in the air, overcommitting and sailing as if it were a flying squirrel. Cy dropped to a knee and waited for the beast to pass over him, plunging his stiff fingers into the creature’s chest as it flew directly over.

  Cy’s extremity was a spear and his hand knifed deep, burying his arm all the way to his elbow inside the creature’s body. The humanoid’s momentum pulled Cy along while he ripped the beast’s heart out. The demonic humanoid arched down and landed on the lawn, careening like a dead sack of meat.

  “I told you not to worry, Dr. Marcus,” Cy said, appearing to breathe hard from his cooling system, holding a shiny heart with blood dripping down his arm.

  CHAPTER 26 - BOOT CAMP

  “Just because war is hell doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun.”

  - Navy SEAL, Chris Kyle

  North Carolina:

  “Had enough to eat?”

  Clio nodded her head and looked down at Lady who was finishing her breakfast off by licking the ground where some had escaped the bowl.

  “Keep your photon pistol slung,” Russ showed Clio by putting it over his neck and then taking it back off handing it to her.

  Clio eyed the cord that he’d fastened to it and draped the weapon over her head and let it hang like a satchel. “Like this?”

  “That’s it,” Russ said, leaning in. “Keep it here, at your side,” he instructed.

  “Got it,” Clio answered.

  Russ walked to the rack of weapons hanging on the wall. “This is a proper rifle,” he said pulling it off. “This one shoots real bullets… ok?”

  “Ok.”

  “The kick is different but we’ll go over that in a bit.”

  Lady barked as Russ grabbed another rifle off the wall and led them out back. “This way,” he ordered.

  Shielding the rising sun with her hand, Clio saw paper targets and cans set up at varying distances down the gentle slope of the backyard.

  Russ pointed to them as if he were a man running a carnival booth. “Set those up while you were sleeping.”

  “How far are those?” Clio asked pointing to the farthest targets that were silhouetted in the shape of a person and marked with Russ’s personal brand of humor.

  “Almost two hundred yards,” Russ stated. “Not bad if you can hit ‘em.”

  In a rare attempt at being funny, Russ took the liberty of drawing monster faces on them. Seeing crayon sketched mouths jammed with fangs had the opposite effect on the girl. The cartoonish drawings pissed her off.

  Clio got down on her belly the same as Russ did.

  “Can you see through the scope?” Russ asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. It’s got a built in range finder on it. It adjusts to whatever you put it on. Understand?”

  “I think so…”

  “The scope automatically adjusts to whatever you put it on. It only takes a second. A millisecond actually… back in the old days a scope was only good for a certain distance. If you wanted to shoot at something farther, you had to manually adjust it. Understand?”

  “Or closer? Yes. Got it,” Clio answered.

  “That’s right, or closer. Just put the middle of the crosshair on whatever you want to shoot.”

  “I got it.”

  “Get your finger off the trigger!” Russ scolded.

  Startled, Clio released the trigger and looked over puzzled.

  “That’s how accidents happen. Only put your finger on the trigger when you’re ready to shoot.”

  “Ok,” Clio said shaking her head with a bratty expression on her face. What the heck do you think I was trying to do?

  “I’m serious, Clio… Pay attention… Ok, next is the safety switch.” Russ leaned over and extended his hand. “Here,” he said after clicking it on and off. “Down to fire and up for safe. You try.”

  Clio switched the safety on and off with her thumb. “Got it.”

  “Pull the trigger easy, young lady… Don’t jerk on it. Do the best you can. Hold your breath then aim… then fire. Put these ear plugs in first.”

  “Ok. I got it,” Clio answered as she forced the foam into her canals and looked through her scope.

  “Try some of these cans up close first.”

  Clio didn’t answer and continued looking through the scope. Holding her breath… she pulled. “Crack!”

  Russ lifted his head up, peeking. “You missed.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “What?” Yes you di…”

  “Look,” Clio said pointing her finger at the farthest target.

  “Well I’ll be… you’re a natural,” Russ said looking at the hole in one of the paper targets. It was a clean shot right through the monster’s paper face.

  The rifle kicked back after each shot. Clio knocked cans down one after the other. Thinking about her mom and dad, she gently pulled the trigger, over and over, vengeful with each shot. “Crack! Crack! Crack!”

  “Damn natural… not bad kid.”

  “What’s next?” Clio asked.

  “Think you can do it when it counts?” Russ asked.

  Clio nodded her head yes.

  “Ok. Let’s go back inside and grab a few things before we head out.”

  Twenty-six minutes later:

  Clio and Russ emerged from the house both wearing backpacks filled with supplies.

  “Where we going?” Clio asked.

  “Railroad tracks are just on the other side of the woods,” Russ said.

  “We’re taking a train ride?”

  “No, smart aleck… It’s a good place to hunt. It’s wide open so it’s safer… good line of sight and those bastards can’t sneak up on us ther
e.”

  “Ok. I wasn’t trying to be fresh…” she paused… “Russ… my dad talked about open areas being dangerous.”

  The old man patted Clio on the shoulder as if to say sorry. “Yeah, your dad is smart and he’d usually be right. But… with these goddamn bastards, it’s best to see ‘em coming.”

  “I think you’re right,” Clio stated in agreement, nodding her head extra hard.

  “He teach you how to carry a rifle? Your Daddy…”

  “I don’t think so…”

  Russ held his rifle pointing the barrel down with the butt stock high and snug against his shoulder. “Like this… keep your finger straight like I showed you…. Off the trigger, ok?”

  Clio did the same with her weapon and Russ realized how small she was holding the thing. The weapon was designed for a grown person, not a child.

  “Like this?” she asked.

  “That’s it,” Russ said pointing his weapon at imaginary targets in the forest, bringing it up and down; repeating his movements.

  Feeling the weapons heft, Clio imitated the old man.

  “You got it, Clio. Nice work. Move your barrel with your head so you’re ready to shoot at whatever you’re looking at.”

  Clio practiced for the monster show and aimed at imaginary creatures. She wanted to kill one for real.

  The old man and the girl came through the woods and stood at an opening.

  “Railroad tracks!” Clio shouted. Lady barked with excitement as if she knew why they were there too.

  There wasn’t a train in sight. Railroad tracks curved and disappeared in opposite directions, like paths leading to a dark abyss. Russ pondered where the railroad tracks went and the thought prompted an idea to pop in his head. RMB Jackson… For now, he’d keep what he was thinking to himself.

  Clio never fathomed wanting one of those ungodly things to appear before, but, now, she found herself wishing that a flesh-eater would show its nasty ass face. Come on out so I can get you.

  The old man couldn’t help feel a loving closeness to the girl. He was happy to have some human interaction but it was much more than that. Silly, he thought. Given the circumstances he felt like he loved the girl already. He tried to deny his feelings. Love was a dangerous commodity in these times. Loving something left the possibility for awfulness to steal like a thief in the night. The already unthinkable thought of losing this precious little warrior child pervaded his thoughts.