Angeles Underground

by Michael Pierce

  Angeles Underground

  Angeles Vampire, Book 2

  Michael Pierce

  Copyright © 2018 by Michael Pierce

  http://michaelpierceauthor.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Angeles Underground/Michael Pierce. 1st Edition.

  Contents

  Sign-Up

  Prologue: Matthew

  1. Fiona

  2. Matthew

  3. Fiona

  4. Matthew

  5. Sean

  6. Fiona

  7. Matthew

  8. Sean

  9. Fiona

  10. Matthew

  11. Sean

  12. Fiona

  13. Matthew

  14. Sean

  15. Fiona

  16. Matthew

  17. Sean

  18. Fiona

  19. Matthew

  20. Sean

  21. Matthew

  22. Matthew

  23. Fiona

  24. Matthew

  25. Fiona

  26. Matthew

  27. Sean

  28. Fiona

  29. Matthew

  30. Sean

  31. Fiona

  32. Matthew

  33. Fiona

  34. Matthew

  35. Fiona

  36. Matthew

  37. Fiona

  38. Matthew

  39. Fiona

  40. Matthew

  41. Fiona

  42. Fiona

  43. Fiona

  44. Matthew

  45. Fiona

  46. Fiona

  Epilogue: Matthew

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  Prologue: Matthew

  1949

  Sector 7 was sealed off from the rest of the station; its malfunctions had become irreparable. Every other sector had been shut down to save electricity and oxygen, pumping everything the station had left into Sector 7, and now even it was running out of air.

  I sat in the command station control room, racking my brain for anything left to try, seeking some inkling of hope to revive the place and reverse its accelerating decline—to find the spot where I could tie the tourniquet and halt the bloodletting. But it was so hard to think, so hard to concentrate. I was bundled in multiple layers, wearing gloves, yet still stuffing my hands into my pockets whenever possible. My shallow breaths came out in wispy clouds, like unfinished thoughts.

  The desk at which I sat was one large, glass, tabletop monitor. Expansive computer screens positioned throughout the room provided diagnostics and monitoring for all twelve station sectors. Most of them had now gone dark, while on two sides of the room were twelve portal chambers that hadn’t worked since zero hour.

  I was surrounded by so much technology that had become increasingly useless over the past few months. This wasn’t supposed to happen. So many fail-safes, countermeasures, and backup protocols had been put in place and built into the systems to prevent this from happening. Some of the best mechanics and technicians from around the world had been carefully screened and selected to keep the station in working order—to keep it self-sustaining for generations. And not just this one, either, but it was supposedly in place for all seven; however, due to the power failures and energy saving measures, they’d lost contact with the other six. I knew two were down for sure, and the other four could very well be on their way. I might well have been sitting in the last functioning station—humanity’s last little bit of freedom in Sector 7—and functioning was a more than generous term. More accurately, it was dying, in its very final throes of life.

  The other techs in the room huddled close against the wall, trying their best to keep warm. They’d all given up and were now just trying to find some sense of peace before discovering what was really on the other side.

  I wasn’t ready to give up because if I did, all would be lost. This wasn’t just for me; it was for everyone—everyone who’d been herded from the other eleven sectors.

  I tapped the screen on the glass desk. The monitor sputtered and ticked, alive with glitches, but hadn’t fully given up yet, either.

  “Don’t quit on me,” I whispered. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. So, there has to be a way. I believe there’s a way.”

  And then, like an answer to my prayers, I heard the faint sound of music coming from somewhere on the far side of the room.

  “Anyone hear that?” I asked, the words lingering in the cloud of breath before me. I turned to the techs huddled against the wall. “Anyone else hear that?”

  “I thought the intercom system was shut down,” one of them said, hoarsely.

  “It was… it is,” I answered. I turned back and clicked through the screen on the table just to make sure. Yes; the intercom system was indeed turned off, as were the speakers in the room. I turned the room speakers on, then off again to see if that affected the music, and it continued to play. It was faint but was there, like a shallow heartbeat. The fact the others had heard it, too, proved to me I wasn’t completely mad—although I supposed it could have been a manifestation of a group delusion in our time of hopelessness. But I didn’t want to consider that possibility too strongly.

  I rose from my chair, having to steady myself for a moment due to lightheadedness. I was out of breath from any type of exertion, so walking around to investigate the music’s origin would be quite a chore. But I wasn’t giving up quite yet. The few lights still illuminated, and the few functioning wall screens flickered in time with each other. But the music stayed consistent—low but clear.

  I inched toward the musical sounds. Monitors around me hummed and crackled, but each one checked seemed strangely dead when I leaned in close to the speakers. I headed to one side of the room that had six portal chambers; a single ceiling speaker was mounted alongside the cluster of rooms. I stood directly beneath it, listening again. The music seemed close now but didn’t sound like it was coming from overhead. Rather, it seemed to emanate from one of the portal chambers; that couldn’t be possible! The chambers weren’t equipped with speakers, and they’d also been totally out of service ever since the bombs dropped.

  I listened just outside of each chamber, stopping when I reached Portal Chamber 3. The song, indeed, was playing from somewhere inside that room. There was no doubt about it—despite the fact it was beyond all realms of possibility since the chamber didn’t work and had been completely shut down. In fact, all twelve of them had.

  I certainly didn’t feel so cold anymore. The air smelled different, the slightest of breezes coming from the chamber. Again, impossible! It had no built-in fan, no exposed tubes leading in or out.

  “Did you find something?” one of the techs asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said, following the music into Portal Chamber 3.

  Standing inside the chamber filled my entire body with gooseflesh. The sweet melody seemed to be coming
from everywhere. It definitely felt warmer and I noticed I could breathe deeper; the air was thick and sweet, lacking that metallic quality I had always known. I was afraid I was hallucinating and quite possibly going into shock. Maybe this truly was the end and I was being summoned into another world?

  I couldn’t take it anymore and suddenly found myself in tears. I put my gloved hands over my face and fell back against the wall of the chamber—except I didn’t hit the wall and continued to fall.

  The next thing I knew, my whole body hit the ground, yet it wasn’t the metal grated floor of the chamber or the tiled floor of the station; I had landed on dirt.

  I scrambled to my feet, completely disoriented. Everything I’d ever known was gone. I was in open space, a great vastness I’d only ever seen from behind the thick station windows. I stood in a desert-like terrain under a cloudless, starry sky. Slowly adjusting to my new surroundings, I saw I was on a mountaintop with scattered lights of civilization far below, stretching out to the horizon. The air was warm and dusty, tainted with a mix of exhaust fumes.

  And that’s when I noticed the red convertible parked just on the dirt clearing, a few yards from the edge of the cliff, overlooking some small slice of Earth. The car engine was running, fumes pouring out from some tube at its rear, and the song—that strange and hauntingly beautiful song—was pouring forth from that vehicle.

  I surveyed the immediate area and saw no one else around. I looked to where I’d fallen from and found nothing but open space. As I began to approach the car, I heard someone call my name. I glanced back and saw nobody. I didn’t know what to think, what to do, what to say. There was a couple—and upon closer inspection, a couple of teenagers—kissing in the car’s front bench seat. I could hear the song even better now. They were so enthralled with each other that they hadn’t heard me approach. I cleared my throat to get their attention, instantly causing the teenagers to part and the girl to scream.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, startled myself. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. But I have to ask, what’s the name of this song?”

  The teenage girl looked worried and glanced at her boyfriend. He seemed too dumbfounded to answer. If the teenagers were reacting this badly to that question, I didn’t want to think about their reaction to my next. While I waited for a reply, the song ended and a new one began, just as captivating as the previous one.

  “Some Enchanted Evening, by Perry Como,” the guy finally said.

  I’d heard the name before but couldn’t remember where or when. Maybe it was something my parents had listened to when they were alive?

  I took in a lungful of strange, wonderful air and asked my second question. “I know this may sound crazy, but where am I?”

  “Are you serious, Pops?” the kid in the driver’s seat asked. “You a wino or something?”

  “What?” I had no idea what he meant but didn’t like the sound of it. “No; nothing like that. I’ve just gotten myself a bit lost. My car broke down around the hill over there. I’m just trying to find my way back to civilization,” I said. I could see the questions running through the teenagers’ minds. I tried to make myself as non-threatening as possible. “I’m not asking for a ride. Just some directions back to town would be nice.”

  “The nearest town’s about ten miles away,” the guy said. “That’s a long walk in the dark. Especially with mountain lions and coyotes around.” The boy looked at his girl, who folded her arms over her chest. She seemed to know what he was about to say next but wasn’t in a position to protest.

  “Hop in, mister,” the boy said. “I’ll give you a lift back to town.”

  “Well, that’s mighty nice of you,” I said. “I do appreciate the kindness and will do what I can to repay it.”

  I noticed the girl eyeing me suspiciously, then she leaned over and whispered something in her boyfriend’s ear that made him laugh.

  “No, darling,” the boy said, still chuckling. “That isn’t a prison jumpsuit. Mechanic or factory worker, maybe. You a mechanic, mister?”

  I looked down at my clothes and realized for the first time that they probably looked strange to these kids. “Of sorts,” I said.

  “The offer still stands,” the boy said, his arm hugging the steering wheel.

  The exhaust emissions from the idling car were going to my head. “What?” I asked, but then understood. Neither teenager motioned to open a door for me, so I hopped over the top of one, into the white leather backseat.

  The boy shifted the car into gear, slowly turned, then drove carefully on the dirt, making his way toward the main road. I glanced back into the open space from which I’d tumbled, trying to seek out the station I’d called home my entire life. I looked up at the dark sky with the blanket of stars, wondering if it was up there somewhere? But I had a pretty good hunch it wasn’t.

  The music from the car stereo electrified the air; every song that came on was better than the previous one and I loved the feel of the wind on my face as the car wound down the mountain.

  “Where did you say your car was?” the driver asked. “Did we pass it?”

  I knew they wouldn’t find my broken-down car. “Yeah; it was a little way back. We passed it a few minutes ago.”

  I saw the guy in the driver’s seat glance at me in the rearview mirror. I wasn’t sure if the boy had bought the lie or not. So, I continued to sell it, regardless. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get some help in the morning to come retrieve the ol’ son of a bitch.”

  I’d barely finished my sentence when a loud bang disrupted the cool night air. The car swerved and shook, slowing to a stop on the narrow shoulder.

  I couldn’t believe my luck. Now all three of us would be walking down the mountain.

  “Of all the nights…” the boy yelled, slapping the skinny steering wheel with his palms. “Not to worry,” he said, after regaining his composure. “This will only take a few minutes. I’ve got a spare.”

  The girl and I stood beside the car while the guy went to the trunk for the spare tire.

  I felt so useless. “Do you need a hand?” I asked.

  “I’ve got it,” the boy said. Then added, “Darling, can you hold this flashlight for me?”

  The girl left my side, causing me to feel even more useless than before.

  It didn’t take long before the new, white-walled tire was on the car and the flat one was in the trunk. I climbed into the backseat again.

  “Hand me the flashlight, will you, darling?” the guy asked, holding out his hand, and his girlfriend passed it to him. With the light beam out in front of him, the boy strolled across the two-lane road.

  “Where are you going?” the girl asked from the passenger seat.

  “I’m… umm… I’ll be right back,” he said and disappeared behind some tall bushes.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do when I got into town, but the wonderment of this new and sublime world was overpowering. I wanted to explore every inch of it. After being confined to the space station my entire life, the open frontier before me was a dream come true. We’d actually been saved like I’d always heard would happen—just in recent months it had seemed like the Assembly had been mistaken. As ParallEarth had begun to shut down, it seemed as if something had gone wrong and we wouldn’t be making it back to Earth after all. Now the portal was open; I knew everything was about to change.

  “What’s taking Johnny so long?” the girl in the front seat asked.

  I had only just now realized that in my awe of this new world I’d never even asked the names of these good Samaritans.

  “Maybe he had to take more than a piss,” I said and offered a weak smile.

  The girl didn’t look amused. “Johnny, you okay?” she called into the night.

  No response.

  She glanced nervously at me, then back in the direction Johnny had gone. “I should go check on him.”

  “No; I’ll do it,” I said and exited the car. “Stay right here.”

  I followed the path John
ny had taken across the road and behind the tall bushes.

  “Johnny, everything all right?” I asked as I walked into the woods, then suddenly realized everything was far from good.

  Johnny lay on the ground, pants unbuttoned, flashlight a few feet out of reach. His body was still twitching; his neck was a bloody mess.

  “Oh, my God!” I gasped and dropped to my knees.

  “Are you guys all right? What is it?” the girl called from the road.

  Johnny’s eyes were wide but glassy. He tried to talk, but the only sounds escaping his lips were anguished gurgles.

  Upon closer inspection of the boy’s wounds, I knew this was no animal attack. Johnny wasn’t going to make it, and I didn’t have it in me to pretend he was. A monster was among us, and the girl was alone and defenseless in an open convertible. I put a gentle hand on the boy’s cheek and said, “I’m sorry.”

  Johnny lifted a strained and bloodied arm, fingers reaching, but I was already on my feet. I gave the boy one last glance, man-to-man, before bolting for the car.

  I had left the boy to die alone, attempting to save the girl, but I was already too late. The monster had beaten me there. A black mass was in the car with her as an uplifting melody of Motown poured from the car speakers. The girl screamed as the thin humanoid figure savagely ripped into her neck with its teeth.