The Orbs Omnibus

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “Open the doors, Alexia!” Sophie shouted.

  “Whoa! Hold on a second there,” Timothy said. “We don’t know where he came from or how he got here. He could be infected!”

  Holly raised her hand to cut him off. “He’s just a little boy, Timothy. I know you lack compassion, but do you have no heart at all?”

  “I’m afraid Timothy might be right,” Overton said, straining to get a better look at the screen. “That kid didn’t just find his way up to the blast doors by himself. Well, it’s highly unlikely he did. What’s more likely is that these Organics are using him to draw us out.”

  Sophie took a deep breath, weighing Overton’s comments against her own instincts. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take. Open the doors, Alexia. Sergeant Overton, I want you and your men positioned inside that hangar. Nothing, and I mean nothing, gets in besides the child!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Overton replied with a scowl.

  Sophie took one more look at the monitor before racing back into the hallway. The logical side of her brain was telling her it was nearly impossible for the boy to have found his way there, but deep in her gut she was being told something else. This was no trap; this child needed their help. And she would be damned if she left the boy outside to die.

  * * *

  A bright ray of light tore through the gap in the blast doors, dividing the dark hangar in two. On the left side, Finley and Bouma knelt with their pulse rifles trained on the entrance. On the right, Sergeant Overton crouched behind a pyramid of metal crates with his rocket launcher at the ready. Sophie watched from inside the safety of the train, her hand hovering over the controls just in case her gut had been wrong and it was a trap after all.

  As the doors screeched open, Sophie could see the narrow shadow of someone approaching. She watched Finley and Bouma straighten, their fingers gripping the rifles tighter in anticipation.

  “Alexia, stop the doors,” Sophie whispered into her headset.

  The massive metal eased to a stop, the opening just large enough for a human to pass through. Silence washed over the hangar as the team waited for the boy to slip through the crack. Sophie couldn’t hear anything but the hollow sound of her own heartbeat.

  Overton’s patience was starting to wear thin. The door had been open for too long, further compromising the safety of the facility. He balled his hand into a fist and prepared to flash his men the signals to advance when the child stepped through the opening. The boy halted at the entrance between the two doors, squinting into the darkness.

  Even from a distance Overton could see the boy’s face was smeared with dirt. The only clean spots were on his cheeks, where tears had washed away the grime. His shaggy blond hair was matted to his head like a hastily made bird’s nest, and his clothes were filthy.

  Overton shot Sophie a quick glance, giving her the most reassuring look he could manage. But deep down something didn’t smell right. He just couldn’t bring himself to believe some five-year-old boy had trekked all the way up Cheyenne Mountain and knocked on the front door of one of the government’s oldest military installations.

  Either makes him really smart, really lucky, or really dangerous.

  “Hey buddy, what’s your name?” Overton asked, slowly stepping out from behind the safety of the metal boxes. He had never been good with kids, and barely even knew his own boys. They both lived in Arkansas with his ex-wife. He thought of them briefly, wondering if they had survived the invasion, but he quickly put the thought aside. He had a task to perform, and if he had learned one thing in his lengthy military service, it was to never let outside distractions mess with him during a mission.

  “It’s okay, buddy, we aren’t going to hurt you,” Overton entreated. “Do you think you can come over here?”

  Sophie watched from the train, furious with herself for allowing Overton to lure the child inside the facility. She should have known the rough man would just scare him off. He had the voice of a lifetime smoker and the face of a hardened prisoner. Not exactly the type of guy you’d want to watch your kids.

  She started to approach but hesitated. Leaving the safety of the train would dramatically shorten their escape window. But the kid wasn’t budging, and judging by the look of terror streaked across the boy’s face, Overton wasn’t making any progress on convincing him to move.

  Sophie jumped out of the train and onto the concrete platform, slowly approaching the boy. “It’s okay; no one’s going to hurt you,” she said, in the most reassuring voice she could manage.

  The child took a step forward and then halted, hesitating as he saw Finley and Bouma with their rifles. Sophie craned her head and widened her eyes, whispering the words “Back off” into her headset. Both Marines reluctantly lowered their weapons and retreated into the shadows.

  “What’s your name?” Sophie asked, turning again to the child. “My name’s Sophie, and this is where I work. It’s a safe place. These Marines are here to protect us,” she said motioning toward Overton and his men, who all faked smiles.

  The boy’s eyes darted nervously from face to face, his mouth quivering as if he wanted to speak, but nothing came out. Sophie took another step forward, prompting the child to take a step back. He squeezed his filthy blanket tighter against his chest.

  Sophie knew she was running out of time. The longer the door was open, the more likely the Organics would find them . . . if they hadn’t already. Thinking of the name Dr. Hoffman had given the aliens made the events of the week feel terribly real. Her team had gone from working on the most important mission in human history to hiding from an invading extraterrestrial race, one she hadn’t even had time to study. And then there was Saafi, clinging to life because of her rash decision to leave the Biosphere.

  “Where’s my daddy?” the boy suddenly said, shocking Sophie from her thoughts of self-pity.

  “What’s your daddy’s name?” Sophie replied.

  “Chuck, but some people call him Chet,” the boy responded, raising his voice. “He works here.”

  Sophie relaxed slightly. It all made sense now. The boy had been there before. His father must have been a NTC guard or scientist. Sophie sighed audibly, a wave of relief flooding over her.

  “Why don’t you come inside, and we’ll try and find him,” she suggested.

  The boy regarded her with large, blue eyes as if he was trying to gauge her trustworthiness. “My name’s Owen,” he said finally, taking a step forward.

  Sophie smiled. “Hi, Owen, it’s nice to meet you. I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

  The child nodded and looked down at his shoeless foot. One more step and he would be inside the hangar, and Alexia could shut the door. Sophie had to act fast; time was running out.

  “Do you like macaroni and cheese?”

  The boy’s eyes lit up. “It’s my favorite.”

  “Well, if you come with me, I promise I will make you a big, warm plate of it,” she said, smiling even wider.

  The boy looked at her, hesitated, and then walked several paces toward the train. “Close the doors, Alexia,” Sophie whispered into her com. She watched Sergeant Overton sneak up behind the boy as the pistons of the doors hissed and moaned. Startled, the boy turned to run, but instead he collided with the Marine’s thick waist.

  “Let me go!” the child screamed.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, kid,” Overton said, gripping the boy’s collar in one hand. He dragged Owen toward the train, kicking and screaming, Sophie trying to comfort the child the entire way.

  “It’s okay, Owen; you’re safe here,” she said, knowing very well she could be feeding him a lie.

  The kid snorted out a gob of snot on Overton’s wrist. The Marine scowled. There weren’t many things in the world he disliked more than a whiny little kid.

  * * *

  The burning stench of plastic overwhelmed the aroma of cheese drif
ting through the mess hall. Timothy’s stomach growled nonetheless. He hadn’t had a real meal in over twenty-four hours, and the fact they were wasting one of the only mac and cheese packets on some stupid kid was pissing him off. The boy wasn’t the only one whose favorite meal was delicious cheese-covered shells.

  Timothy gritted his teeth. “We need to think about rationing,” he said, pacing back and forth in the kitchen. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be cooped up in here.”

  “There are bigger things to worry about right now,” Bouma said, tearing into a freeze-dried meal with a jagged tooth.

  “Yeah, like figuring out how widespread this thing is,” Finley replied.

  The squeaking of rubber tires echoed through the small room. Timothy cocked his head to see Emanuel wheeling himself toward the automatic coffee machine.

  “What’s up, cripple?” he said with a grin.

  Emanuel struggled but managed to stand and limped over to the skinny man, stopping inches from his smiling face.

  “I don’t know if you’ve been an asshole all these years and just managed to hide it, or if you’ve just totally lost it. Whatever the case, I will not—and I mean not—hesitate to lock you in a storage closet.”

  Timothy’s smirk faded, and he brushed a curl out of his eyes. “Hey man, I’m just kidding. Relax. Isn’t a little humor a good thing in a situation like this?”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  “All right, all right. I’ll tone it down a bit,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “See, there you go!” Emanuel shouted.

  “Gentlemen, I know everyone is riled up, but remember we have a new guest,” Sergeant Overton said with a nod toward Owen, who sat next to Sophie and Holly in the mess hall. “Timothy, this is your last warning. Get it together or your friend Emanuel won’t be the one locking you in the closet,” he said stroking the .45 on the side of his belt. “After you guys get some grub, meet me in the control room. I want to see the layout of this place.”

  Emanuel sat back down carefully in his wheelchair. “No problem, sir,” he said, swiping a mug of fresh coffee and balancing it between his legs. Cautiously, he wheeled himself into the mess hall.

  “Owen, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Sophie said, watching Emanuel make his way toward them. “This is Dr. Rodriguez, but you can call him Emanuel. He’s in charge of the gardens and pond and everything else that helps make this place special and safe. Do you want to see the pond later?”

  The boy stared down at his gooey macaroni, shoveling another hot scoop into his tiny mouth.

  “Hi, Owen,” Emanuel said with a smile. “Is that stuff good?”

  “Where’s my daddy?”

  Emanuel looked to Sophie for help, but she just rubbed the young boy’s shoulders. “We’ll find your daddy. Don’t worry right now. Just eat your food,” she said.

  Owen looked up at her with wide eyes. “I lost Sam,” he whimpered.

  “Who’s Sam?”

  “He’s my friend. When the sky started to change, my mom hid us. But then, when we came outside, everyone was gone.”

  “Then what happened, Owen?” Holly asked.

  “We found the blue circles. They were everywhere.”

  “The orbs,” Sophie muttered under her breath. “I’ll tell you about them later, Holly.”

  “The ship took Sam,” Owen cried, whimpering and burying his shaggy blond head into his blanket.

  Sophie patted the boy’s back. “It’s going to be okay, Owen.”

  “How about I show you the garden, or the pond, after you finish eating?” Emanuel asked.

  “I want my mommy and daddy,” the boy cried.

  “How about taking him to get cleaned up instead?” Sophie suggested. “You’ll feel better after a warm shower, won’t you?”

  Owen shoveled more macaroni into his mouth and shook his head. “I don’t like water,” he mumbled, wiping the tears out of his eyes.

  “I’ll take him,” Holly offered, pushing in her chair. “We can go for a walk.”

  “You sure?” Emanuel asked.

  “You can help me if you want.”

  With a short nod, the biologist paced over to Owen and grabbed his empty tray. “Let’s go for a walk, bud.”

  Sophie watched them disappear into the kitchen, where Emanuel was promising the boy a cookie.

  “We need to talk for a second,” Holly said. She crossed her arms and leaned closer to Sophie. In a whisper she said, “Owen is going to need a lot of attention. He’s suffered through some major trauma and I’m going to need to spend some additional time with him.”

  “You won’t hear any objection from me,” Sophie replied with a smile. “I trust you, Holly.”

  “Owen’s not the only one that’s going to need more attention.”

  Sophie’s stomach dropped; she knew what was coming next. She heard the sound of Holly’s voice as she continued to talk, but Sophie didn’t hear a single word. She didn’t want to talk to Holly about what they’d been through, didn’t want to think about the horror of what had happened outside, of what had happened to Saafi. She tried to push the thoughts away, but they kept coming back to her: everyone outside was more than likely dead. Everyone she had known, everyone she had cared about.

  All dissolving in floating orbs.

  “Are you listening to me?” Holly finally blurted.

  “I’m sorry, but I need to go. I need to meet with Sergeant Overton and the others. I’ll find you later, and then we can talk more about this,” Sophie said. “I promise.”

  * * *

  Timothy flattened the holographic image of the Biosphere, pulling out the clumps representing each biome one by one. “As you can see, this place is a fucking bunker. Nothing gets in without setting off the sensors. And I’ve already told Alexia to let us know if anything out of the ordinary pops up.”

  “What’s the energy source?” Bouma asked.

  “Two mean-ass generators, shielded from EMP attack by some reptilian-looking armor. They’re both run off solar energy and only switch to juice when the sun goes down.”

  Sergeant Overton hovered over Timothy’s shoulder, staring at the holographic images. “How long until the juice runs out?”

  Timothy ran his hand through his curls. “Man, honestly, they could last years. And when the juice is gone, we can still run them off solar energy if we reroute power to only the critical areas of the Biosphere.”

  “Good. So this place is secure and self-sufficient. The perfect place to launch a counterattack,” Overton said.

  Timothy stood, shaking his head. “Whoa, wait a second—”

  Sophie held up her hand. “Don’t start. I want to hear what Sergeant Overton has to say. I’m not leaving anything to chance. All options need to be on the table. There’s a lot to discuss right now, so you better sit down.”

  The programmer bit his tongue, knowing he had used up every ounce of patience his team had left. He flicked the hologram and watched it vanish before heading over to a pair of monitors hanging on the wall.

  “Sergeant, with all due respect, I’d like to know how you expect to launch a counterattack with only two other Marines,” Emanuel said. “And you still haven’t told us what happened to the rest of your team.”

  Overton resisted the urge to snap at the biologist. He had been anticipating the questions, but still hadn’t thought of the answers. He wasn’t sure how he was going to lead a counterattack, and he certainly didn’t know the fate of his team; all he knew was that Marines didn’t hide in bunkers. Especially when the enemy was outside killing those he had sworn to protect.

  “No idea about my team, but my guess is they ended up inside those blue things like the rest of Colorado Springs. As for a counter-attack” —the sergeant paused and stroked the metal handle of his .45—“I’m still devising a plan, Dr. Rodrigue
z.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Timothy said under his breath.

  Emanuel ignored him. “There is one other thing that still doesn’t make sense to me. How did Owen manage to escape when no one else was able to?”

  “He’s a kid. Kids are good at hide and seek,” Timothy said with a nervous chuckle. “No, but seriously, he probably just hid until they—whatever they are—left.”

  “Actually, I have a theory about that,” Sophie said. “Let’s go over the facts first. Timothy, make note of these on the smart board. Sergeant Overton, tell us what you know.”

  The Marine massaged his temples, straining to recall everything his team had been through. “Well, we were dropped off at the decommissioned air force base about a week ago. It was just a simple recon mission: retrieve some old data NTC had requested and head back to HQ. But when we entered the underground facility, everything went dark and the doors sealed us in. That’s when I lost contact with my squad. We waited for twenty-four hours before I ordered Corporal Bouma to find a power source. After the facility came back online, he was able to boot up an old analog system—a system that hadn’t been affected by whatever disturbance Dr. Hoffman was talking about. The messages we heard came from all around the world. Russia, Japan, Europe, and then the East Coast. Every one of them mentioned a mist or fog. They also described weird colors in the sky. Then radio silence. Whatever happened started over Asia and spread worldwide in less than twenty-four hours.” Overton paused and took a sip of coffee. “That’s when we saw your Humvee zipping down Highway 115. There’s one other thing, though. Something I’m sure you’re already aware of.”

  Sophie nodded. “Go on, sir.”

  “Water. Lakes, rivers, streams. It’s all gone. Everything we came across was dry. Like someone sucked it up with the world’s largest drinking straw.”