The Orbs Omnibus

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  Hours later, Alex climbed out of the valley and stood on a sand dune overlooking the ocean. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the faint sound of a drone hunting for contacts. The hum of the alien technology was unmistakable, even from afar.

  He scanned the sky for signs of the ship, but it was already miles away. He caught a glimpse of blue on the horizon just as the tiny craft disappeared into the night.

  Another small victory, another lucky break.

  Yes, he could call it that. Today he had dodged death more than once.

  His eyes returned to the ocean, where he could make out the broken hulls of boats protruding from the sand. Had the beach receded even farther in only a few days’ time?

  There was no way to be sure. With the drone out of sight, he plopped onto the soft sand to check his two-way radio again.

  His heart thumped in his chest as he pulled the radio from the clip on his back. The screen glowed to life, forming an orange halo of light around his helmet. He cupped his hand over the top of the radio to cut down on the glow.

  Make yourself a target, Alex. Nice move, he thought. A horizontal line raced across the display—the same one he had been staring at for days. Like a flatlining EKG, he was as good as dead.

  “Shit!” he yelled, anger suddenly taking hold. He tossed the useless radio down the side of the dune. The device sailed through the air and clattered off the top of a boulder. He watched it land on the ground below, the orange light vanishing as a blast of wind covered it with sand.

  At first he didn’t even get up. Why should he? The radio was trash. Nothing but added weight on his belt.

  He flinched when the sound of another drone broke through the night. This one was louder, closer. He jumped to his feet and scanned the skyline. Sure enough another drone raced across the black sky.

  Shocked into motion, he stumbled down the slope, the added adrenaline giving him a boost of energy he hadn’t known he had left in him. An overwhelming fear penetrated his thoughts.

  He ran like a man possessed, sand exploding behind him as he moved as fast as his exhausted body would allow. Halfway to the bottom of the dune, his foot snagged on a buried root, which snapped under his weight, ripping clean out of the sand and throwing him off balance.

  “No, no, no!” he yelled, trying to regain his balance. It was too late. He tripped, and the world went topsy-turvy. His visor hit the sand first, and he slid several feet before hitting the bottom of the dune with a thud.

  Alex knew sand was much like water. It appeared soft, but land on it with enough force and there wasn’t much difference between that and hitting concrete.

  The sound of his right wrist snapping echoed in his helmet before he felt the pain. He bit back a cry as he lay on his back and watched the drone approaching in the sky. The blue light swept over the area around him, searching, searching.

  He resisted the urge to close his eyes, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good. After a moment the alien rover moved on, its blue eye darting from dune to dune.

  Realizing he was holding his breath, Alex let out a huff. The explosion of air fogged his visor momentarily. When it cleared, he fumbled to his feet, holding his injured arm to his chest. He scanned the landscape for a place to hide. Somewhere. Anywhere. Nothing but miles of beach filled his HUD.

  And then he saw it.

  A boat.

  He was running before he consciously made the decision to move. Although his body instinctively acted to survive, deep down he knew it was only a matter of time before he was captured or killed. It was a miracle he had evaded the aliens this long. One of the soldiers in the Biosphere, a stone-faced man named Blake Will, had told him that the aliens had a way of scanning for water. It was a wonder they hadn’t slurped Alex up like a cocktail yet.

  The thought sent a tremor down his entire body, motivating him to run even faster, to push just a bit harder. His muscles ached, but he didn’t dare risk slowing down to look behind him. His eyes remained focused on the boat.

  The moist sand made him feel like he was running through Silly Putty.

  A hysterical laugh escaped his lips. Was any of this even real? Six months ago, he had been teaching a high school science class over a thousand miles away. Now he was trying to hide from an alien drone that wanted the water inside him.

  Everyone he had ever known was probably dead. His ex-wife, his parents. All of his friends. His sister, Maria.

  Everyone.

  Alex suddenly felt very tired. Out of everyone he had lost, it was Maria he was going to miss the most. They had been best friends since they were kids, and even when she had moved halfway across the country, they had still managed to find time to talk every day, by e-mail if not by video chat. He hadn’t even been able to say good-bye before getting sealed in the Biosphere.

  In a split second, his muscles locked up, his feet dug into the sand. His body had finally accepted what his mind had known for days—there was no reason to continue.

  The thought of his sister trapped in one of those terrible blue orbs, of her body being mummified by the Spiders, was too much. It was all just too fucking much.

  As he lay down on the sand, he listened to the thunderous beating of his heart. There were other sounds, too: the sound of the alien drone zipping across the sky, the sapphire waves crashing against the receding shoreline, and something else. A chirping noise. A bird? No, he hadn’t seen one for days.

  This noise was mechanical. And it was coming from a few feet away.

  Rolling onto his stomach, he reached for the source of the sound, digging through the sand. Seconds later, his fingers uncovered his radio. It took him several more precious moments to realize the jagged wavelength pulsing across the display was real. There was someone else out there.

  Alex quickly cradled the radio close to him and swiped the screen with his uninjured hand.

  “This is Doctor Emanuel Rodriguez with the Cheyenne Mountain Biosphere. Does anyone copy? Over.”

  Was he hallucinating?

  Alex looked down at his radio and saw the frequency wavelength rise to a peak and then fade away. He could see the drone racing its way through his peripheral vision, but he didn’t turn. He kept his eyes locked on the radio.

  “I repeat, does anyone copy? Over.”

  Alex fumbled with the device, slapping it on its side. “This is Alex Wagner. I’m the sole survivor of the Biosphere at Edwards Air Force Base. I’ve been on the run for several days, and I have no idea where the hell I am. I’m being hunted by those things.”

  He didn’t care if his voice drew the drone to his location. If he was going to die, he at least wanted someone else to know what had happened to him. He needed to know that someone else had survived. That he wasn’t the last person alive on the planet.

  “We heard your message weeks ago, Mr. Wagner. And it’s damned good to know you’re still alive.”

  “Yeah, well, I won’t be alive long if I don’t get the hell out of here. Those things are hunting me.”

  “Can you tell us your coordinates? We’re a long way from Edwards, but if you sit tight, maybe we can find a way to help you.”

  Alex almost laughed as he scanned the beach. Tell them his coordinates? He had no idea where the hell he was. All he knew was that he was on a beach somewhere in California. He doubted that was what the doctor wanted to know.

  “Alex, are you still there?”

  “Yeah, man, but I don’t know where the hell I am.”

  “Just stay calm. We need you to stay alive. We are developing a weapon here. A weapon that can change the course of this war.”

  Alex closed his eyes and tried to think. How far had he traveled since escaping the base? What direction had he walked in? The whipping wind and the approaching alien ship made it hard to think. But the ambient sound of the crashing waves was so beautiful, so peaceful. For weeks he had been sear
ching desperately for water. Now a seemingly endless supply was in front of him.

  He sat there watching the waves crash against the hull of the boat, and then it hit him.

  They have a way of scanning for water.

  Blake’s words replayed in Alex’s mind. If the drone was homing in on him because of the water inside his body, then he should be able to evade the craft in the ocean. It should camouflage him long enough to get away.

  Dr. Rodriguez repeated his message.

  The distant hum of the drone grew closer. Alex’s heart thumped inside his chest. “I’m being fucking hunted! I can’t just sit tight! Hold on,” Alex replied, clipping the radio to his belt.

  He could hear Emanuel’s worried voice crackle with protest over the channel as he raced toward the water. The outline of the waves grew larger with every step. He was almost there.

  And then the craft was hovering over him, the bright beam from the ship’s underbelly scanning the beach.

  He pushed on, his knees creaking and his calves tightening.

  He high-jumped over the smaller waves until he was knee-deep in the ocean. In one final thrust, he dove into a monstrous wave and disappeared into the water. Pain from his broken right wrist raced down his arm as he clawed his way through the water.

  After he cleared the first wave, he began to front crawl. With every stroke, he could feel the warm salt water trickle into his suit through the tear in its sleeve.

  Fuck.

  Anxiety paralyzed him as he realized how screwed he really was. This far out, the ocean floor had dropped away from him like a steep, underwater cliff. If he slipped beneath the surface, his suit would fill and he would drown. If he kept his arm above the waves, then the ship would surely capture him.

  Neither was a particularly appealing option.

  Another wave crashed against his body, sending him tumbling under the water. He screamed in anger, the desperate sound of his own panicked voice filling his helmet.

  Reaching down, he tried to cover the gash with his other hand, but it was no use. The water flooded into his armor.

  He was going to drown.

  He slipped deeper beneath the surface as the torrential current and his water-laden armor pulled him farther down into the abyss. Pawing the water frantically, he kicked toward the surface with every ounce of energy he had left. Dying wasn’t easy. It actually required a lot of work. Or maybe he was just really lucky. Either way, he knew what he needed to do if he wanted to live—he had to shed the armor.

  Before the next wave hit, he hunched over to take off his boots. The rest of the suit had to be removed by unfastening several metal clasps. The damned thing was difficult enough to take off on land. It was going to be next to impossible in the water.

  But he had to try.

  He reached for the neck clasp first. It opened with little resistance and he felt the armor covering his back and chest pop open. Another wave sent him spinning before he had a chance to remove it. By the time his body stopped rotating, he was too dizzy to move.

  The taste of salt water spurred him back into motion. He reached for the two clasps on his belt. The one on the right clicked open, but the left wouldn’t budge.

  Alex sucked in another deep breath, immediately choking on the water as it continued to fill his helmet.

  Get it together!

  Alex calmed his breathing. He spit the salt water out of his mouth and reached back down to the other clasp on his belt. This time, it popped open. He grabbed the radio and then kicked out of the bottom half of his armor.

  With his body free of its metal prison, he let the current take him again. He had bought himself minutes, just enough time to regain some strength.

  When the water in his helmet reached his mouth he closed his eyes and took one last breath through his nostrils before unfastening it and ducking beneath the surface.

  And then there was only darkness.

  He could feel his body spinning but had no idea in which direction. Ten seconds passed. He could still feel his legs—they were on fire, every inch of muscle burning.

  Another couple seconds passed. So did the agonizing pain.

  After thirty seconds his eyes snapped open, the salt water burning them immediately. Something had changed.

  The beam was gone.

  So was the drone.

  The irony was not lost on him. He had been camouflaged by the very resource the aliens had come for. In the end, water was what protected him from the alien ship.

  He kicked violently upward. Just when his lungs felt like they were going to burst, his head exploded through the surface. Above him, the stars dazzled like a field of orbs, sparkling in the darkness. Somewhere out there was the aliens’ home world.

  The current was getting stronger, pulling him farther out to sea. He watched, too tired to swim back against it, as the shoreline diminished until it was just a thin ribbon of yellow sand in the distance. He had been fighting for so long—to escape the Biosphere, to escape the Spiders, to find water. And for what? Everyone he had ever cared about was dead. He didn’t know this Dr. Rodriguez. For all he knew, the man would soon be dead, too.

  The water felt cool and warm around him as the waves lapped against his bare skin. Time slowed to a crawl. Maybe he would just float here for a while until the water took him. Float and maybe sleep. He was so tired. It wasn’t such a bad way to go out; his vision slowly fading to darkness, his body simply giving up, his lungs filling with salt water—certainly better than being torn apart by the aliens or turned into an orb. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Yes, he thought. Much better than being turned into an orb.

  He was going to join Maria in a place where the monsters couldn’t get him anymore.

  CHAPTER 5

  SOPHIE splashed water on her face. The liquid immediately cooled her flushed cheeks. She hardly recognized the face in the mirror: a pair of brown eyes sunken and framed with more wrinkles than she ever remembered having. And the worst part? She reached for a long gray hair protruding from her dirty-blond ponytail. She yanked it from her scalp and dropped it into the sink. The hair swirled several times around the drain, as if it knew what awaited it below. Sophie empathized. She knew better than anyone—well, anyone besides Alexia—how bad the odds were, and what horrors awaited the survivors outside.

  She thought again of the Spider cradling that young boy as it climbed the pole and attached the helpless child to the alien structure. It made her stomach lurch, and she rushed over to the toilet to hurl up the remnants of her dinner. Coughing, she pushed herself away from the toilet seat and back to the sink. Her bloodshot eyes stared back at her from the mirror.

  How had it come to this?

  Wiping her mouth, she stepped into the hallway and made her way to her room. Collapsing on her bed, she allowed herself a moment to sob into the pillow. The sound of footfalls rang in the hallway outside her room. Please go away, she thought, I just want to be alone.

  “Sophie?” Emanuel said from the open doorway.

  With a deep breath she sat up and shielded her eyes with her left sleeve, holding out her right hand like a stop sign. “I’m fine, Emanuel. Really. I’m fine.”

  Emanuel ignored her lie and rushed to her side. “Sophie,” he said, grabbing her hand. He inched closer, putting his other hand on her back and gently massaging the knotted muscles there. “You can’t keep all this pent up inside. It doesn’t do any good. What we’ve seen can’t be unseen. The best we can do is share the burden. Be there for each other. Without that, what do we have?”

  The question lingered in the air. Sophie knew he was right; she needed to confide in him now more than ever. She had isolated herself from the group over the past few days. She couldn’t let that continue; she had to be a leader.

  “Maybe Sergeant Overton’s right,” she said. “Maybe we should try and help the survivors now.
Take a chance. We’ve done it before.”

  He shook his head. “No. Give me a chance to build us a weapon that works. I’m so close, Sophie. Now that I’ve discovered the source of their defenses . . . ” His face filled with excitement.

  Sophie laughed, snorting and sniffling in the same moment, a sound that only made her laugh harder. They both chuckled together, and she rested her head against his shoulder, turning away so he couldn’t see her red, puffy eyes. His fingers twined with hers, and a tingle warmed her numb body.

  “It’s okay,” Emanuel whispered in her ear. “You made the right choice.”

  Sophie nodded, leaning into his grasp. She wanted to feel safe in his arms. But deep down, she knew things would not be okay—deep down, she was losing hope.

  * * *

  In his quarters, Overton slowly slid a sharp razor over the stubble on his jaw.

  It was tradition.

  Before he went to war, he shaved. There was something about going into battle with a freshly shaved face and head that made the killing feel more civilized. It was cleaner.

  Over the years, he had killed countless men. It had never really disturbed him. Even his first registered kill in San Juan hadn’t bothered him that much. From the beginning of his long career, he had been a recruiter’s dream, the type of man who didn’t need convincing to sign on the dotted line. The type of man the government didn’t need to invest millions of dollars brainwashing.

  He was the perfect marine: never questioning orders, never wavering, and, best of all, always following through, even when things got tough. His commitment to the military was also what made him a lousy husband and father.

  “Shit!” he hissed as the blade nicked his jaw. A trail of bright red blood began flowing down his chin. He wiped it away with a towel and put pressure on the nick with a finger while continuing to shave with his other hand.

  Adrenaline swirled in his bloodstream. He wasn’t sure if it was from the sting of the cut or the thought of saving Thompson and Kiel. Two members of his squad had survived the initial attack after all. And he would be damned if he let them die now, no matter what Sophie had to say.