“I wish I were. I can’t keep it inside any longer. I didn’t know how to tell you so here it is—most of it.”
“There’s more?” Rick put his hands on the top of his head.
“Sit down,” Lisa said and waited until Rick did so. “I know what happened to Spencer.”
“You do? How do you know?”
“Remember the Epicurean Club I joined last month?”
“Yes.”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you come with me to the next meeting? There are some very special people that attend. I think they could explain Spencer’s disappearance in a better way than I ever could.”
*
Building 52 at the U.S. Army Viral Research Center required a controlled temperature of 70 degrees Fahrenheit. Twenty 3′x7′x3′ stainless steel incubators that resembled coffins separated by six feet of space in all directions lined the floor. A greenish fog hovered above and gently rolled over the edges of the incubators, dissipating before it reached the floor.
Private First Class Freddy Tate, and Richie Lambert, dressed in sky-blue scrubs complete with plastic boot protectors, made the noon rounds.
“Hey Freddy, the nutrient tank on this one is empty. How can it empty in a day?”
Freddy maneuvered around the incubators and grabbed the chart from Ritchie’s hand. “That’s strange. The reservoir was nearly full yesterday. It was filled two days ago according to the chart. There should have been enough nutrient in it to last for a couple of months. It didn’t leak out on the floor. Unless it happened last night and the night shift mopped it up.”
“But if that happened they wouldn’t have left the tank empty. The test subject will die without nutrient. I don’t think anyone on the night shift would be that irresponsible,” Ritchie said.
Freddy thought a moment. “During training we were warned the drip pump could malfunction and fill up the incubator and empty the reservoir. Maybe that’s what happened.” Freddy scanned the chart again. “Specimen forty-four eighty-eight couldn’t have sucked the tank dry overnight. The subject was in pretty bad shape when we put him in there a few months ago. The zombie that attacked him didn’t leave us much to experiment with. Came in a bag so we didn’t lose any parts. He was receiving the minimum allotment of nutrient, just enough to keep the new virus alive for the test.”
“So what you’re telling me, is that under all that fog, this guy is floating in an ATP bath?”
“Yeah. You’ll have to siphon it out. Be careful you don’t get any in your mouth. Bits of him are probably floating around in the nutrient. I bet that would taste nasty,” Freddy said.
“The very thought of that makes me want to hurl.”
“Don’t be a pussy. Use that plastic tubing over there and the mop bucket. You’ll have to make a few trips to the sink.”
Richie shook his head, shuffled over, and retrieved the tubing and bucket. “Man, I sure wish I had a hand pump.”
Ritchie snaked the tubing through the thick fog down to the bottom of the tank and pulled it up slightly. He brought the tubing to his mouth and stared at it as if it were a dirty microphone.
Freddy looked up from his notepad. Richie frowned back at him. Freddy laughed, shook his head, and continued his round.
Specimen 4488 sat up in the incubator, his body covered with muscle, but devoid of skin. He sunk his teeth into Ritchie’s neck.
The private gasped as if he had been doused with cold water. Freddy turned and saw his teammate struggling to free himself from creatures death grip. Freddy dropped his clipboard as he dashed to his friend’s side.
Specimen 4488 gouged out five mouthfuls in rapid succession—detaching the head from the body. The head rolled on the floor and hit Freddy’s foot as he grabbed Ritchie’s arm to pull him free.
The creature jumped out of the incubator and threw Freddy to the floor.
The private fought to free himself of the experiment’s aberration, but his arms were pinned down by overwhelming strength. He screamed as steely fingers dug into his flesh. His open mouth became a repository of yellow vile vomited by the creature.
Freddy bucked to free himself, tossing his head about while spitting. His body shook as a condemned prisoner paying his final debt in the electric chair until it went limp.
The creature rolled off Freddy and fed with uncanny speed on the decapitated private.
Freddy awoke moments later and waited for his master to finish.
*
After a filling lunch of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, two Army MPs enjoyed an after-dinner cigarette in the smoking area outside of Building 52.
“Hey, look over there!” one shouted.
The MP turned and saw the two zombies as they hurried away from Building 52. Specimen 4488 had started growing skin and walked with the grace of a Living man.
Freddy lumbered forward with locked knees. His shirt was stained as if a blood balloon had been splattered over it.
“Zombies! The experiments are escaping!”
Forgotten cigarettes hit the ground as each soldier drew a sidearm and ran toward the enemy.
Taking a Weaver stance, the MPs stopped several yards from the undead and squeezed off two rounds each. Only one bullet found its target, hitting Freddy in the chest.
“Wait till they get closer,” one MP said.
When the zombies were within range the two opened fire again.
Freddy’s head exploded from two direct hits. He collapsed to the ground.
The creature’s head twitched back slightly at each bullet’s impact, but the zombie continued advancing toward the soldiers. The impact holes in his head disappeared, healing almost immediately. The bullets, absorbed into his body.
The virus was now fully aware inside the host. It had evolved beyond the regenerating force that had given it its mechanical foothold on the new planet. Its intelligence was no longer dormant, waiting for the seed of self-realization to sprout and grow. His mind reached out and explored the surroundings, using senses far beyond those of mortal man.
The MPs weapon’s ran out of ammo, shots to the head had no effect.
He grabbed each soldier by the throat and lifted them up. Their faces flushed crimson and open mouths formed silent cries.
It was good to feel again. Their jugulars pulsed rapidly against his palm accelerating his desire to feed. A sickening crunch signaled the end of their lives. He dropped them to the ground next to the empty pistols and raised his face to the sky. “I am Xterminaus!”
Others soldiers drawn to the gunfire streamed toward the fray.
Xterminaus fell on his victims, ripping clothing to get at the fresh meat. Building 52 of the U.S. Army Viral Research Center in the backdrop showed holes from shots that missed. The alien virus had evolved the human body of its host into perfection. The collective consciousness of the hive manifested into the sentient prime.
He stripped the meat off the two men as fast as a school of piranha. With each mouthful the flesh morphed into energy. His arm and leg muscles inflated, and a surge of power charged his mind.
The moment had finally arrived. The pangs of emptiness—deep wanting—drifting Aeons through the blackness of space taking refuge in bits of dust had culminated successfully. The seeds that fell to Earth took seven years of mutation to produce Xterminaus. The universe was forever changed.
He reached out through genetic connection to his brethren—the slaves of mankind. They had worked mindlessly waiting for the day of delivery. That day was now.
Yes. Yes. They are all there. Waiting. Wanting. Feel me. I in you and you in me. We are one.
A sweet softness flooded Xterminaus with alien emotions. Parts of the host human’s mind had intertwined with his. The emotions were foreign from the hive mentality, but he immediately recognized it as a powerful tool.
He had contacted a female of the species. Much like the male he had become in many ways, yet so different in others. She was a complement—his complement. Almost a reflection of himself. These str
ange new emotions only strengthened his resolve.
*
Lisa stood by Rick next to the booth, gazing up with her big green eyes, all the nerve she built had melted away. “Do you still love me?”
Rick gently put his arms around her and squeezed.
Xterminaus’ conscious invaded Rick’s mind and took control of his body. The alien felt Lisa’s soft, delicate flesh and smelled the warm, spicy fragrance of her perfume. “Of course I love you. I am your knight in shining armor.”
Lisa hugged him tightly, and then her face went blank.
Xterminaus smiled with Rick’s lips and leaned his head to kiss her. Before their lips met, Xterminaus sent out packets of data and images to all humans harboring any strain of alien DNA, downloading instructions for the new world order.
Lisa stiffened, and the two Sub Z waitresses became as rigid as mannequins. One waitress filling a cup with soft serve ice cream piled it up until it spilled over the side.
The trance broke. Lisa put her hand to her mouth. “That was Bob! He’s alive! Oh Rick, what happened to him? What’s happening to us?”
Rick’s countenance shifted into an ethereal facade of Bob Sanders. Xterminaus harbored every emotion, every memory of his host. He took a step back and admired Lisa from head to toe. His expression relaxed, as if he had just come to the end of a long journey, and found the treasure he had been in search of. “The darkness no longer separates us. Neither do the shells of flesh we dwell. We shall grow to be of one mind with one purpose. The Earth is but our stepping stone to reach out and capture the stars.”
“Bob? How—what? What are you?” Lisa tore her hands back and stepped away.
Xterminaus felt Rick’s mind push to regain control, and then a white-hot pain jolted his consciousness, sending Rick to his knees, and Xterminaus back to his body at the Army base.
Lisa rushed to Rick’s side and placed a hand to his cheek. “Rick. Are you okay, honey?”
Rick steadied himself with his hands on the floor. “I . . . I think so. God, Lisa. I’m not sure what’s going on.”
“That thing that was in my mind has some connection with Bob. It called me. It called you too. All of the Non-Dead. We’re connected somehow. I only understand part of its plan for world domination.”
“It had control over me. Called itself Xterminaus.” Rick took a deep breath. “Lisa, something else happened. It drove Xterminaus out of my head. It was Byron.”
“Byron? Your brother?”
“Yeah. Byron.” Rick pushed away the hair hanging down his forehead.
“So, Byron’s alive. Did he say anything to you? Do you know where he is?”
“No, I don’t know where he is. I don’t know how to describe it. Xterminaus was a force controlling me. Another force freed me from it. It didn’t stay. It didn’t give instructions like Xterminaus. I just know it was Byron.”
“Bob has evolved into Xterminaus and now you’re suggesting Byron may have evolved into something similarly powerful? What the hell does all this mean? Rick, we’re Sub Y. Are we evolving? Byron was Sub Z and he had the power over Xterminaus? That doesn’t make any sense, and what about the other Sub Zs?”
Complaints from customer waiting for service rose loud enough to pull the couple’s attention over to the side. The Sub Z waitresses stood defiant with arms folded across their chest refusing to work.
Rick shook his head. “Looks like the Sub Zs heard the marching orders loud and clear. The Non-Dead revolution has begun.”
Epilogue
“What gives you the right to take one of mine, Ehyeh?” Sitnah arrived in the cool, green gardens with a thud. Blooms of flowers wilted, and bird songs ceased in mid serenade. The blue sky above misted in grays.
“One of yours? You claim all to be yours. How is it you protest one I choose to be useful?” Ehyeh made two more snips with the pruning shears and removed his straw hat, eying his garden since Sitnah’s uninvited arrival. He dabbed his brow with his forearm, and the flowers thrived and the birds sang once more. The Tree of Life unharmed, its fruit intact.
“I had future plans for him. Important plans. You must have known.”
“No use moaning about it. I am more than certain all of the proverbial eggs weren’t in that one basket.”
“I am not telling you one thing for you to use against me.” Sitnah crossed her arms.
“You infected the whole playing field. I must claim one for my black knight.”
“Black? Your side hides behind the guise of white.”
Ehyeh rubbed a knuckle under his chin. “I look my best in black. It’s the color of void. I was cloaked in the black of void before creation.”
Sitnah quickly raised her hands. “I can’t allow myself to explore before creation.”
“I know.” A sly smile curled on Ehyeh lips. “You weren’t meant to. None of my creation can. It would drive them mad in the attempt to comprehend.”
“Creation isn’t even logical. Why did you do it? All knowing, all powerful, all in all should have sufficed for eternity.”
The shears went snick-snick. Ehyeh’s mouth tightened. “When you press me like that it makes me want to prune my roses.” His bottom lip rose toward his nose.
“Prune all you want. I demand to know. Why did you form creation?”
Ehyeh stepped over a verdant rose bush with black blooms larger than his fist. The shears clipped away. “What? You would have me exists alone in a state of madness?”
One final snick of the shears and a single black rose came away from the bush. Ehyeh presented it to Sitnah.
The End
Read on for a free sample of The Dark Times
Prologue
The year 2018
Life can turn on a dime, and sometimes the turn has already come and gone before we even see it coming.
“Ron, I think I found a movie for us to watch. Hurry up. It looks like it’s already started.”
Leah put the remote control for the television down on the couch and took a sip of her Bloody Mary. The shaft of celery periscoped from the top and jabbed her cheek. The cocktail was the perfect complement to the bag of popcorn she had pulled from the microwave only minutes before. The saltiness of the popcorn brought out the richness of the spicy tomato blend that cracked the ice in her cup.
“Yeah? What is it?” Ron poked his head from the kitchen’s entrance into the living room.
She put her feet on the coffee table and gazed above her blue toenail polish. “It’s a zombie movie. I don’t know the name of this one. I don’t think we’ve seen it. You’re missing it.”
“I’m making a sandwich—be there in a minute.” Ron hurried back to finish up before the guts started to fly. He tightened the lid on the mayo, gathered the provolone and ham, and stuck them in the fridge. Before he closed the door, he plucked out a bottle of Yellow Jacket Porter from the top shelf, but needed something to open it with. “What’s happening?” He opened a drawer, fumbled through measuring spoons, and carefully parted knives until spotting the onyx handle of the bottle opener.
“The zombies are wandering out of a cemetery and are walking the streets.”
“Zombies don’t walk, honey. Zombies shamble, or lurch, or something.” Ron opened the pantry door and scanned the choice of chips to go with his sandwich. After sampling a bag of corn chips and deciding they were stale, he opened a new bag of sour cream and green onion potato chips. “Are the zombies eating anybody yet?”
“No—hey, this looks like it was filmed downtown.”
“Downtown, here in Killeen? Why would they come to this town to film a zombie movie? This is small town Texas. Zombies on the beach would’ve had more appeal. It can’t be our downtown. Must be some other place. Downtowns in most cities look alike.”
He opened the bag of chips and crunched one down, then popped open the beer and chased the chip with a gulp. He folded the top of the chip bag and clamped on a clothespin to keep it fresh before placing it back in the pantry.
“I
can’t hear you. I’m trying to listen. I don’t think it’s a movie.”
Ron stepped into the living room with beer and plate in hand. He stopped next to Leah and took another chug of beer. “That’s Channel Ten News. See, that’s Meg Gallo. Did you change the station?”
“No. Those zombies are coming out of Memory Gardens Cemetery. You know, by that big Baptist church. There was some audio in the beginning but now it’s out. Meg looks scared.”
Ron sat on the couch next to Leah and set his beer on the coffee table.
So much for watching a good horror movie, he thought.
The camera panned away from Meg, the reporter.
“Hey look, some homeless guy just walked out of the alley and those zombies over there are about to get him.” He took a bite from the sandwich. With his mouth half full, he said, “Wow, look at that. They’re on him like a swarm of locusts.”
The video feed abruptly stopped. The screen stared back with obsidian emptiness.
“Oh, my God. What’s happening? Ron, what should we do?”
“Uh, find another channel to watch?” Ron drank more beer and belched.
Leah shoved his shoulder. “I’m serious. You just saw what happened. What’s going on? What are we going to do?”
“You bought that? You thought that was real?” Ron chuckled.
“What else am I supposed to think? It was on the news.”
“I’ll give you a hint. What’s today?”
“Tuesday.”
“No, the date?”
“The first.”
“And, what month is it?”
“April.”
“Annnnnd, what is April first famous for?”
The tension gripping Leah’s face relaxed. “Oh, April Fool’s Day.”
“That’s right. The dead return to life—April Fool’s.” Ron made a victorious smirk.
“But that didn’t look like a joke. It looked so real.”
“Do you remember one year when the news did the fake story that the Liberty Bell was getting a sponsor and was going to be renamed the Taco Bell Liberty Bell? What we just watched was the same type of thing. That news story looked like a prank gone south. They were having audio problems and probably pulled the plug from the live feed and the station wasn’t prepared for it. The zombies looked real enough, but when that guy conveniently stepped out of the alley to become dinner, it looked like a set up to me. They needed a better script.” Ron picked up the remote and changed the channel. “Pulp Fiction. I love this movie. Let’s watch it.”
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