All Good Things
Greyson had always been a man of routines. His routines kept him productive, and distracted. Every morning at 0500 hours, he would get up from his dusty bed, his mattress loudly protesting. Even the small creaking coaxed from the dusty wooden floor seemed to fill his tiny, one bed studio to the brim. He'd shamble into his bathroom, and hold his head under the scalding water, scrubbing himself with a rough sponge. Placing a towel around his waist, he would shave the stubble from his face in the small, cracked mirror over the sink.
His hair hung down to his high cheek bones, blonde even when soaking wet. He liked to grow it out now that he was no longer in active service. He took his towel from his waist and began to dry his hair. Although he hadn't seen any action in over eighteen months, scars still stood out sharply across his pale chest. Each of them was a memory: nestled between his lower abs, a bullet wound. On his left pectoral, a long shallow scar from a knife. His right shoulder, still large from the years of training, was covered by a dark tattoo of an eagle, wings spread wide as it grasped an anchor and trident in its talons. He looked at his reflection for a moment with piercing blue eyes and walked back into the bedroom.
He drove to work every in an ancient, black SUV. The car was so rusted out that Greyson's heart would flutter every time it coughed to life. He worked just outside of Seattle as a cook. It was only a twenty minute drive to the diner in Old Greenlake. After work he would stop at the gym, cook himself a dinner in his humble kitchen, and fall asleep by twenty two hundred hours. And then the cycle would continue.
It took a couple weeks for him to notice the pattern. It happened every Monday like clockwork: at nineteen hundred hours, an order would be placed for three chicken quesadillas with cheddar cheese. Every week, he would cook the same meal, sending it out to the mystery customer. After a while, it got to the point where Greyson would have the order ready before it was even placed.
One Monday evening, after the traditional order had been placed, Greyson decided to take the food out to the mystery customer himself. His stomach fluttered. He had no reason to think it was anyone special, but he couldn't keep from being excited as he walked over to a table at the far corner of the small Mexican restaurant. She was alone when he saw her, quietly reading a tablet. She looked up when he approached, bright green eyes flashing from behind her cascading brown hair. She smiled softly, and Greyson's knees grew weak. He placed her food on the table.
"You order this every week" he stammered. "I-I just had to see who our most consistent customer was."
"This has been my favorite restaurant for the last few months" the woman blushed.
Greyson beamed. "I'm glad you've been enjoying the food" he said, and turned to walk back to the kitchen.
"Wait." He paused, and slowly pivoted back, until he held her gaze again. She broke contact first, glancing nervously at the vacant chair, opposite of which she sat. "Won't you sit down?"
Greyson looked around at the almost empty restaurant. He locked eyes with his manager, who gave him a nod. Smiling, but still nervous, he sat down with the woman. They talked for hours into the night. To Greyson, she was the most natural person he had ever spoken with. The words came easy. He told her about his life, how he was a Navy Seal who was working at a restaurant to make a little extra cash. Her name was Jacklyn, and she was a kindergarten teacher at the local school. They talked until the lights went off in the restaurant, forcing them to leave.
That became their weekly ritual. Jacklyn came every Monday, just as Greyson was getting out of his shift. They would talk about everything together, from their mutual love of old architecture to their hatred of seagulls. They shared their deepest aspirations, and their fears. She became his best friend.
The day Greyson decided to tell her how she felt, he was so nervous he could barely cook. He walked over to their table and sat down. He noticed that she was fidgeting, unable to look him in the eyes. The paper napkin in front of her was torn into a thousand tiny pieces. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, she blurted, "Hey, I like you!"
Her face turned red, and she looked away again. Without hesitation, Greyson leaned in, knocking over her water, and kissed her for the first time. For a moment, nothing mattered but her soft lips, and the warmth of her face against his. He pulled away, slowly, and heard the entire restaurant, staff and the few customers, clapping and cheering. Both blushing, they ran out of the diner, and drove his car to her place around the corner. He opened the passenger side door and carried her to the house, her lithe form almost weightless in his arms. Together, they fell onto the bed, and made love for the first time.
In a few weeks, he moved into her apartment in Old Greenlake, Seattle. Moving in with Jacklyn was one of the easiest decisions he ever made. The apartment was small, but for them it was cozy and perfect. He continued to cook, and her school was close by. Money was always tight, and there was always the worry that Greyson would be called back into active duty, but they were happy.
In a few months, they were married. It was a small affair, only family and a few close friends. She made her own dress and he drove them to the reception at the lake in his SUV. When they left as husband and wife for the first time, there was no honeymoon. They simply went home, excited and ready to begin their lives together.
And for them, it was enough.
'Starchart: Intersteller Navigation Initiative'. Greyson peered at those four words for what seemed like an eternity, slowly running his fingers over the embossed sigil at the bottom of the page. 'Based upon your high marks in a series of tests…' Tests? There hadn't been any tests he'd been aware of. 'You have been selected for an experimental-'
The door creaked like a thunderbolt. Greyson's eyes snapped up from the page. A woman with shoulder length hair the color of deep mahogany and smooth olive skin stood in the doorframe. She was wearing his favorite shirt, a partially buttoned flannel that came down to the middle of her thighs. She was absolutely glowing, from the smile on her face to the twinkle in her emerald eyes.
"It's positive. You're gonna be a dad."
The paper fell from his hands as he rose from the sagging leather couch and crossed the room in two long strides. He lifted Jacklyn into the air and spun her in a wild circle. As they fell to the floor, he kissed her deeply, running his hand through her mussed hair. Jacklyn giggled and pulled him close, resting his head on her chest.
"Now, there's three of us." she whispered. "Things will be better now."
The polished tile floor reverberated with every step as Greyson walked through the dimly lit halls of the Coronado Amphibious Naval Base. Two other men kept time with him, people that he had never seen before. He assumed them to be soldiers like himself, although they were all still in civilian clothing. Leading was their commanding officer. This man Greyson knew. This was the man that Grey had served under on tour in the deserts of Arizona and Southern California. Commander Carlson always knew his way around a battlefield better than a person. But that wasn't rare for anyone in the in their line of work.
Carlson stopped abruptly at a large door and turned around. His face was battle hardened from years of active service, and although his physique was lean for a Seal, it was clear that there was whipcord strength in his arms.
"Gentlemen," His voice was a deeper than gravel, and had that unmistakable air of command. "As you are already aware, you have been selected for an experimental procedure. You have been chosen based upon the unprecedented aptitude that you have all displayed during your service to this country. You've got it where it counts, men. And we believe that you have what it takes to handle something that the United States government has been working on for a long time now."
Carlson pushed the door on his left open and walked into a brightly lit room. The men followed, and entered a room that was bustling with activity. Lab techs in white coats rushed around three surgical beds which were decked out with full body leather restraints. A woman in surgical scrubs walked over to the men and handed them hospital gowns.
"You're going to have to put these on for me" she said. "There is a locker room around the corner. Come back and we'll get started."
Taking the gowns, the soldiers walked out of the room. Greyson stopped at the door, and stood next to Carlson, waiting for him to finish talking with one of the lab techs.
"Sir." Carlson turned to address Greyson.
"Yes Lieutenant?"
"Sir, I just wanted to let you know that two days ago my wife and I found out that she'll be having a baby. We've been trying for a while now. And I just need to know, after all this is done, is that kid still gonna have a father?"
"Lieutenant," Carlson put his hand on Greyson's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "After all this is done, you're gonna do things that will make you a hero for your kid in ways you couldn't even imagine."
Greyson was puzzled, but nodded and walked into the locker room. The other two soldiers were already in their gowns sitting at opposite ends of the locker room. The closer one looked up when Greyson walked in. He was a tall man with buzzed black hair and a long scar running down his cheek. He stopped what he was doing to size up Greyson before stepping forward.
"Ensign Bradford. Name and rank" he said in a bass monotone.
"Second Lieutenant Greyson." They saluted one another.
"What team are you from?" Bradford asked.
"Seal Team One. I'm stationed out in Washington. You?"
"I'm a sniper with the Naval Special Warfare Development Group. I heard you boys did some serious work down South a few years ago."
Greyson cringed. "I'm not exactly proud of what I did down there," he responded slowly. "It's one thing killing cartel, but starving kids who never even held a gun before we found them? That's not war."
"Depends on who you ask." Bradford replied. "We all learn to live with what we've done."
"Who's the other guy?" Greyson asked, desperate to change the subject.
"Don't know. Doesn't talk much." Bradford replied. "I think he's from the arctic unit stationed up north."
The man in the corner got up and stalked out of the room, moving past Greyson and Bradford without a word. Bradford caught the door as it swung open.
"I'll see you inside Lieutenant." He walked out of the room, leaving Greyson to change into his gown.
When Greyson walked back into the room, the doctors were already strapping the other two soldiers into the surgical beds. A lab tech walked over to him, gesturing towards the empty bed in the middle.
"Any reason for the straps?" Greyson asked the man as he got into the bed.
"It keeps the patients from hurting themselves during the procedure." the doc replied through a surgical mask and hairnet. "We are preparing for some involuntary movement."
The doctor tightened the main buckle around Greyson's chest as others worked on his wrists and feet. A cold sweat began to form on Greyson's brow as the strap was tightened around his forehead. The only thing he could see was a bright light shining directly above him. The light swung over his head as the surgical bed was tilted forward, clicking until it stood almost ninety degrees to the floor. Greyson could see his CO standing before him, arms crossed and brow furrowed. He looked nervous. If Carlson was nervous, Greyson was downright terrified. His pulse began to quicken.
"We're going to give you an IV now." Greyson heard to his left. "This is for the anesthetic. You're going to feel a pinch."
The hairs on his arms stood up as the needle pushed its way through his skin. Greyson closed his eyes as he felt the cool liquid from the IV enter his body, and instantly began to relax. His eyebrow twitched as a respirator was pressed against his face.
"I want you to breathe in slowly and count backwards from ten. Ready?"
"Ten, nine, eight…seven…"
Everything went black. For a while there was nothing. And then there was light. Too much light. All of the light. Greyson was staring into the sun. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. He could see the fire, feel the heat. He stood, naked his body facing an inferno. His vision was a never ending plane of fire. He turned away from the flames and saw a line of tiny spheres, suspended in the in blackness. Moving faster than he could've thought possible, he flew past Mercury, Venus, the Earth and Mars. Soon he was staring down at the entire solar system. As if seized by a massive force, his body was yanked back away from the planets he knew at a speed which he never imagined possible. In seconds, the sun was nothing but a distant star. One of many. All of them. Every star in the galaxy.
There were too many stars. And at that moment, Greyson began to understand that there was a difference between hearing the concept of infinity and understanding it. His mind began to unravel as it was filled with every star, quasar, black hole, white dwarf and supernova, all happening in simultaneously around him. He could feel it all. He could see it all. It was maddening, illuminating, and breathtakingly beautiful, all at the same time.
In an instant he was thrust back. Every star, blurring motes of light surged past him. He knew them all. He could feel every planet as it sailed by his incorporeal form. And there was Earth, rushing into view, a blue and brown orb surrounded by satellites and bits of metal trash. He was sucked even further down, into the planet, into North America, into his own head. When he opened his eyes, he was back on the hospital bed. There was vomit on his chest, and every muscle in his body ached like he had just run a marathon. His ears were ringing and his vision was blurry. Then he heard the screaming.
It came from his right, a shrill, angry noise. He could barely recognize Bradford's voice.
"My eyes! My eyes! I can't see!"
To his left he heard the electrodes of a defibrillator priming.
"CLEAR!" someone shouted.
There was an electronic snap, and then a flat line. A blurred figure walked in front of him, and a light was shined into his eyes. Greyson closed his eyes in an attempt to shield himself from the brightness. He could feel his stomach beginning to turn.
"This one's responsive. Alex Greyson. Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can understand."
Greyson opened his eyes, and mustered all of strength. He blinked, once, and then again. The room was starting to swim into focus, and it was all that he could do to keep the remainder of his breakfast down. It seemed as though someone was moving towards him as the world fell into blackness once more.
He felt the world before he saw it. The desk in the corner, the stool sitting adjacent, the television in front of him. Greyson could sense everything in the room, from the dead leaves slowly falling off of the plant on the window sill to the dust spinning in concentric circles all around him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and raised his hands to his head. His hair was gone, most likely shaved off the moment he went under in the operating room. The skin felt rough and scratchy, hair already beginning to bud out from the follicles in his scalp. Where his hair had been there were now small plungers all around his head, feeding data into a machine next to the bed.
The door on his left swung open, and he turned to meet it with his gaze. Carlson walked in, cup of coffee in hand. He was followed by a small, wiry man with round thick spectacles and a budding neckbeard carrying a tablet and a small brown man with a long, but well-kept white beard.
"They told me I couldn't smoke in here" he said, pulling a cigar from his jacket pocket. "But you never did mind, so they can get over it." He paused to light the cigar. "You hungry? Ya been asleep for two days."
"I'd just like to know how my wife is doing, sir. Don't think she expected me to be gone for more than a day."
Carlson took a long drag and nodded. "We notified her that you were doing just fine. It'll be a while yet before you get to see her though."
"And how long will that be, sir?"
"Well that depends on you, Greyson. Do you remember anything from the procedure? Did you see anything?"
The images began to flood back into his head, slowly at first, then faster until the entire universe was blurring together before his eyes. There was a sharp pain, and then he was back in the room. He was screaming, back arched in pain, the machine connected to his head beeping uncontrollably as two large men struggled to hold him down. As the panic subsided, so did he, falling limply back into the bed. The man with the glasses was at his side now. Carlson was just looking down at him, arms crossed and brow furrowed. The room was silent for a time, with only the slow beeping of the machine to be heard.
"Believe it or not you're doing a lot better than the other two" Carlson stated. "You're not dead, and we haven't had to put you in a strait jacket yet."
"What the hell did you do to me?" Greyson gasped. "I told you I have a family to think of now, you son of a bitch!"
"Sorry son, but country before family. You were one of the only three that scored high enough marks on our tests to even attempt this procedure on. In fact, if I recall, you scored the highest." Carlson paused for a moment, scratching his chin. "Which is probably why we're still able to talk like this. As for what we did to you, I'm not entirely sure. But one thing's for certain: you're never gonna see things the same again."
"What does that even mean?" Greyson snarled. "What tests, what's going on?"
"I think the best way to put it is we've given you a sixth sense Lieutenant. And we amplified it to a degree that most people thought would be impossible." Carlson paused for a moment to take a drag. "Think of it as…enhanced situational awareness. You can sense where things are without having to see or feel them. It's sort of like how a goose always knows how to fly North or South; only on a much larger, much more detailed scale."
"So, what, you gave me radar?"
"No, more like we gave you a map. Of the known universe. In your head." Carlson said, tapping on his noggin. "And all things considered, you're handling it pretty well."
"Why? What purpose could this possibly serve?"
"You mean other than the obviously huge advantage it would provide any combat situation?"
Greyson paused. "Yeah, besides that."
"Son, you went to school. Do the math. There ain't enough clean water left on this rock to sustain the human population. The rest of us need to leave now, just like the GEA Arks all those years ago."
"But the Mars missions…" Greyson started, but the Commander only shook his head.
"You really think a little ice from another planet is where our salvation lies? That's a distraction Lieutenant. A diversion for the public. Because the fact is, most of em are gonna be stuck here when we leave. We don't have the ships for everyone. Not anymore."
Greyson paused for a moment, taking in what the Commander had said. This was a shock. The media had been pushing the missions to Mars for years now, raving about fresh clean Martian water as the salvation of mankind.
"That still doesn't explain where I come in." he stated. "You could just have easily put all this information into a nav program on a spaceship."
Carlson walked over to the plant and put out his cigar in the dirt. He glanced towards the doctor. "I think I'll let the expert take it from here son."
After getting a nod of approval from Carlson, the doctor began to speak.
"In the year 2102 the last of the Ark ships left the planet, leaving roughly five percent of the human population behind, mostly concentrated in the United States. The Ark ships were tracked by our satellites until they reached specific coordinates at the edge of our solar system, where they vanished. We believe that they made contact with a wormhole at this location. One hundred and thirty years later, an advanced probe was found drifting in a slowly decaying orbit outside of Neptune. That probe contained information showing the successful terraforming of multiple planets in a new solar system and-"
"Well then we've had that information for hundreds of years" Greyson interjected. "Why has it taken us this long to do anything about it?"
"Four hundred and twenty years ago, our ancestors decided to stay on Earth. As you are aware, many did so for religious reasons." the man continued. "Their religious traditions and convictions have only been strengthened over the generations. When the remainder of the United States government attempted to publically build a new fleet of arcs, they were destroyed by acts of violent protest and terrorism. By the time we were finally able to construct a satellite capable of building and launching colony class ships, we had lost the wormhole, and our only chance at salvation."
"So that's where you need me." Greyson spat. "You think that whatever you crammed into my skull is your ticket out of here."
The doctor replied calmly. "We believe that the artificial augmentation of your sensory abilities, combined with a working, innate knowledge of four dimensional space will be enough to locate specific disruptions in space time."
"We think you can sniff out the wormhole Greyson" Carlson added. "But only if you can control your abilities. Which is where he comes in." This time Carlson looked over at the gnarled old man in an orange robe.
"This is Guru Shakti. We found him holed up in a fortress in Sri Lanka. He's one of the last practicing Guru's from a long line of Hindu masters. He's gonna help you gain a little mental control." The guru nodded and smiled.
"I don't want control," Greyson growled. "I want my brain back. Get this shit out of my head."
"Son, if I were you, I'd be a little less hostile to the idea of being augmented. This 'shit' can't be taken out. It's here to stay. And even if we could take it out, we sure as hell wouldn't. Your dumbass head is now full of billions of dollars and years of government research. And you are our only success. So own it." He made to leave the room.
"Sir, wait!" Greyson said. "What about my wife? I need to know if she's safe, sir."
"She'll be kept under military protection. Don't you worry about her. Just focus on the goal here Lieutenant." He walked over to the door with the doctor. "Focus up, and you'll be out of here in no time."
He strode out, the doctor close behind, leaving Greyson alone with the guru. Greyson sighed, and looked down at his hands. They were shaking. Odd. His anger was replaced with cold exhausted. The old guru was now standing before him. The man's eyes were deep brown, but almost seemed to twinkle behind his absurdly bushy white eyebrows. In lilting, heavily accented English, he spoke.
"Now, I want you to clear your mind."
The Humvee bounced and rattled over the pitted and overgrown highway. Greyson could feel every pothole and crack in the road miles ahead and miles back. He could feel every dying tree. He felt their overgrown scraggly roots pushing through the old concrete and asphalt that made up interstate five. He closed his eyes and counted in his mind. 'Ten, nine, eight, seven…' Methodically, he reigned in his new senses, allowing himself to focus once more on his immediate surroundings.
The guru training had not been easy, but after the better part of eight months, Greyson had finally gained a degree of control over his new abilities. Eight months. It shook him to his core every time he thought about it. 'Jacklyn has been without you for eight months. She has been carrying your child, alone, for eight months' the voice in his head would say. But it was that same voice that drove him all this time. The voice that pushed him through every meditation session with Shakti, every painful glance into the stars. It was the voice that was leading him back home today.
Off in the distance, Seattle proper loomed, one of the last small hubs of civilization on the west coast. The city was walled off from the land, and partially from the sea; a necessary precaution in these times. The Humvee began to slow as the approached the first gated checkpoint before entering the city. The driver, dressed in full combat gear, put the truck in park and stepped out from the vehicle.
There was a knock on the window. A figure dressed in all black with a gasmask stood outside. He was carrying an old M-16. He gestured for the window to be rolled down. Jacobs, one of the officers that had been stationed in Coronado rolled down the window.
"I'm going to need all of you to step outside for screening" came a muffled voice through the mask.
"Screening? What are you talking about" Jacobs demanded. "We have military clearance from-"
"Sir, I don't care where you have clearance from. If you want to get into Seattle, you need to be cleared of viral contaminants. Please step out of the vehicle and follow me to the tent."
Jacobs gave Greyson a doubtful glance, and they both stepped out of the Humvee. Stiffly, the officer led them to a facility located in a large tent. The tent was next to a fence that was built onto the road. The officer pulled the tent flap aside, and gestured for them to enter.
Inside, there were multiple tables stocked with medical equipment as well as a few people. They were working at tables with tablets and laptops, all sporting hazmat suits of different colors. In the center of the tent was a cylindrical glass chamber, large enough for a single person. The driver was currently standing inside, hands above his head as a metallic bar at the edge of the chamber gently rotated around him. A light above the chamber flashed green, and the bar stopped rotating, allowing a door at the side of the chamber to open. The driver was escorted out by another officer. A women in a blue hazmat suit looked up from a computer next to the chamber.
"Next" she stated, waving Jacobs over. Jacobs reluctantly entered the chamber, which closed with a hiss. "Sir, I'm going to need you to cross your hands over your head."
The machine began to scan again. After a few moments, a light on the top of the machine turned red, and a rapid beeping erupted from the chamber. Jacobs looked over at the woman standing at the computer.
"Hey, what does that mean" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. "Is something wrong?"
The woman looked at the officer standing at the back of the room. The man said something unintelligible into a radio on his vest. Jacobs started to pound on the walls of the chamber.
"Hey. Hey! What's going on? What does that red light mean? Let me out of here!"
Three more officers walked into the tent and up to the chamber. In a practiced motion, they opened the door and tased Jacobs until he was lying on the chamber floor, twitching. Two officers grabbed his arms and hauled him from the vessel, roughly dragging him from the tent, away from the city. Greyson moved towards the men, but the third officer pulled out his sidearm and pointed it at his chest. Greyson stopped cold.
"What the fuck are you doing" he shouted. "That man is a Navy Seal. Let him go right now!"
"Sir" the officer replied calmly. "I'm going to need you to step into the chamber." He cocked the gun back, keeping it pointed at Greyson. "Now."
Baffled, Greyson raised his arms over his head and slowly backed into the chamber. The officer didn't lower his weapon until the chamber sealed with another steamy hiss. Greyson closed his eyes and prayed as a sweat began to accumulate on his forehead. The machine stopped moving, and the chamber door hissed back open.
"Clear" said the woman. Greyson was escorted from the tent by the same officer that had just held the gun to him. The Humvee was waiting before the now open gate. The driver looked at Greyson, a sober expression on his face. "Get in."
Reluctantly, Greyson walked around the car and got into the front seat. Slamming the door shut, he gave the officer a hateful glare as the hummer lurched forwards. As the gate shut, they drove past a faded sign on the road: Welcome to Seattle. A single gunshot echoed in the distance behind them.
"In other news, the East Olympus Virus, more commonly referred to as the EOV, continues to ravage eastern and middle United States as scientists race to find a cure. Since the release of this alien viral strain from the melting of frozen Martian water, the disease has gone airborne. We have received reports that the East Coast has been quarantined for public safety. With an unprecedented infection rate, experts are saying that this may be the highest outbreak of an infectious disease since the TB outbreak of 2457. Here to tell us more is the current head of the Washington chapter of the CDC, Eric Masters. Eric?"
Greyson leaned back into the old leather couch and looked down at Jacklyn, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Smiling, he softly kissed her on the forehead and lowered the volume on the television. Jacklyn was round with child now. She was due on Tuesday. So soon. He sighed and looked back to the TV.
"-symptoms to look out for are tough to spot at first, but they become more obvious as the virus progresses through the system. The problem is, by then, it's usually too late, and the patient is considered infectious."
"And what sort of symptoms are we looking for Eric?"
"Well Linda, any manic, paranoid, or overtly aggressive behaviors are usually the warning signs. Other signs may include irrational behavior, and even an increase in appetite. If something seems out of the ordinary, it's best to say something to the proper authorities. It's better to be-"
The TV shut off with a click, and Greyson lowered the remote, letting it fall onto the couch. He gently picked up Jacklyn's head, lowering it onto a pillow. Carefully, he covered her in a worn blanket. Then he stood, just looking at her for a moment, taking it all in. To him, she had never looked so beautiful, her swollen belly moving in and out with each breath. His phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out. Blocked number.
"Who is this?"
"Grey, it's Carlson. Where are you?" He sounded panicked. There was sporadic gunfire in the background. And screaming. Primal, animal screaming.
"I'm at home, sir. What's happening?"
"Jesus Christ!" Carlson shouted. "Meet me at the rendezvous. And hurry. This is happening now! SON OF A BI-"
The line went dead. Greyson dropped the phone and sprinted up the stairs towards their bedroom. Yanking open the top drawer of his dresser, he pulled out the vintage Glock 19 that had been in his family for generations. Next to it was an ammo box. Three full mags. It would have to do. That's when he felt it. The rapid pounding of feet on dirt and asphalt. The air reverberating from mad, howling voices. Windows smashed, people trampling over one another. The EOV was here. Seattle had fallen.
Down in the living room, a window shattered. Greyson slammed a magazine into his weapon and leapt down the stairs. The living room covered in broken glass. He turned to see a man in a torn tank top clamoring through the window next to the sofa. His hair was mangy and overgrown, and the veins in his skin stood out sharply, dark against the almost violet pigmentation of his skin. The creature looked at Jacklyn, who had fallen away from the couch and was now pressed up against the television. It stared for a moment before unleashing an inhuman shriek.
The scream was abruptly cut short with a flat bang from Greyson's piece. Grey ran over to Jacklyn and lifted her from the floor. There were tears streaming from her eyes.
"Comeon baby," Greyson said, grabbing her hand. "We need to get out of here right now."
Jacklyn took two steps towards the door before doubling over in pain.
"Alex!" she gasped. "It's coming. The baby's coming."
Greyson's heart dropped into his stomach. She wasn't due for another five days. Couldn't it wait?
"We need to get to the car." he said, picking up his phone from the floor. "I can get us help once we're there, but we need to get there in once piece. Can you do that Jack?"
Lips pursed, she nodded, sweat gleaming on her forehead. Taking her hand once more, Greyson led her through the kitchen, and motioned for her to stay behind him. He could feel them outside, rushing through the streets. The roads were overrun with panicked civilians and them. The Screamers.
Quietly, Greyson slid the door open. It was a dark night. The smog overhead was too thick for the moon to be seen. Only the flickering streetlamps were there to light the roads. They were everywhere. The Screamers moved like nothing he had ever seen. Their legs thudded sporadically over the ground, arms wind milling. Like a chaotic swarm of insects, they flew through the small suburb, tearing through anything that was in their path with unchecked violence and aggression. Greyson and Jacklyn waited, until the majority of the horde had surged past. Even so there were stragglers, limping and dragging themselves forward on broken limbs.
"The coast is clear" he whispered over his shoulder. "Take my hand."
Together, they made their way towards his black SUV parked in the driveway. Greyson opened the passenger door and put the seat back for Jacklyn. He ran around the car and leapt into the driver's seat, starting the car with the push of a button. Silently, he prayed to God as the car began to cough and sputter. After a few teeth grinding moments, it started. The tires squealed as he stepped on the gas, and they pulled out into the street.
Greyson drove through Old Greenlake with the headlights off, using his senses to guide the car safely through the chaos. Every few minutes, Jacklyn would break the tense silence with a moan of pain. They couldn't get to the rendezvous soon enough. Greyson looked at the dashboard. Half past twelve. How many people had been caught unaware by the mad frenzy going on in the streets? How many were dead already?
The airport graveyard was approaching rapidly. It was filled with dozens of retired planes, some hundreds of years old. This was the rendezvous point. The air was heavier here, and although the chain link fence surrounding the airfield was beginning to rust, it still hummed with electricity. Greyson pulled the SUV around to the entrance. A single guard tower stood above the gate. No one was there.
Greyson squeezed Jacklyn's hand, and opened the door to the car. As he stepped down, the gate smoothly swung open. Carlson's voice crackled over a loudspeaker.
"I thought you'd never make it son. Get in here, it's time to leave."
Jacklyn's breathing was becoming more rapid. She was gripping Greyson's hand with a force that he didn't think was possible for a woman of her slight build.
"Carlson!" Greyson shouted. "My wife is in labor. We need a med team, now."
There was a pause. "Bring her inside. We'll do what we can."
They drove deep into the graveyard, the lock on the gate snapping shut behind them. The old Boeing airfield was massive; 'almost six hundred acres' ,Greyson thought to himself.
"Alex" Jacklyn panted. "Honey I know you know where we're going, but all of this driving with no lights is starting to freak me out."
He had forgotten that they were still driving dark. Nodding, he switched on the brights, illuminating the rusting fuselages of the old planes. It looked as though some of the aircrafts had been resting here, motionless, for hundreds of years. They navigated through the eerily silent airfield, driving deeper into its center. They turned onto a clear landing strip, and drove towards a long, lone hanger, standing amidst the hulking planes. Over the runway, a group of dark figures carrying a stretcher ran out to meet them. Jacklyn's contractions were coming with greater frequency now. She cringed as the medical team opened the door and hoisted her shaking form onto a gurney.
"Alex! Alex, where are you?" she cried as they laid her down.
Greyson took her hand once more. "I'm right here Jack. I'm not leaving you."
The med team rushed the gurney into the brightly lit hanger. Inside, the bulk of available space was occupied by a massive winged ship. The hanger was the size of a football field, making the ponderous spaceship nearly as large. Its nose came to a sharp point, and there was a wide ramp leading into its cargo bay at the rear. Dozens of men and women were loading it with crates. On its pale gray fuselage was a stark label: Zeus.
Jacklyn was pulled into the far corner of the hanger behind an awaiting privacy curtain. There an awaiting nurse began to cut away her clothes. Jacklyn cried out again as her torso convulsed. Greyson pushed the hair back from her eyes in an attempt to sooth her.
"How long since the first contractions?" the nurse asked Greyson as he worked.
"Forty five minutes, maybe an hour." he stammered. "Is that bad?"
"She'll be fine" the nurse said. "I just hope this kid doesn't take too long coming out, otherwise we might be doing this on the plane. Honey, I want you to keep breathing, and on three, we're going to push. Alright? One, two, three, push!"
Jacklyn screamed her hand compressing around Greyson's fingers. The nurse continued to provide encouragement. "Good, that was good. We're going to go again. Ready?"
Greyson felt a presence behind him. He turned to see a man in full riot gear and a gas mask. The man pulled the mask and helmet from over his head, revealing his face. It was Commander Carlson.
"Time to suit up son. We've got work to do."
"I'm a little busy right now, sir. Find someone else."
"The perimeter's been breached." said Carlson, tossing Grey the mask. "Best case scenario, we'll be outnumbered twenty to one. It's all hands on deck soldier."
Jacklyn looked up at Greyson. "Go, baby. Do your job," she said. "I'll be alright."
Greyson leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I'll be back. Don't worry." he whispered before closing the curtain behind him. Greyson and his CO jogged across the hanger towards a line of lockers at the other side. Carlson spoke as they went.
"You're gonna need full body armor for this one. The heavy gear will limit your mobility, but you'll be fine so long as you don't let them touch you or break your skin. If they do, you'll have minutes. They're faster than they look, so don't underestimate them. And don't stop shooting until you see 'em go down. Even the skinny ones can take a bullet like a grizzly bear on crack." They stopped, and opened the lockers. "Take a riot shield in case things get hairy and as much ammo as you can hold. They've already started piling up on the fence. It'll only be a minute or two before they get inside. I'll meet you outside the hanger."
He grabbed a pump action shotgun and another gas mask, and ran towards the exit as he strapped it over his face. Greyson turned his attention to the locker. Packed inside was a full set of the heaviest Special Forces armor he had ever seen, all jet black. There were a few guns, and an explosives pack as well. Pulling off his civilian clothes, he scrambled into the weighty Kevlar padding. He laced up his combat boots, strapped on two side arms, and grabbed a dangerous looking SMG. Finally, after attaching the riot shield to his back, he grabbed the bag of C4 and snapped on his gas mask. Loaded for bear, Greyson jogged out into the warm night.
Five men stood at the entrance of the hanger. Next to them was a Humvee with a fifty caliber cannon mounted on top. They were all dressed like Greyson. The commander was already giving orders.
"Alright men, we're gonna have three teams of two. The plan is to hold a perimeter around the hanger entrance. If they enter the hanger, we lose everything. The central team will be McClintock and Harrison. You'll operate the Humvee and absorb most of the damage. If you run out of ammo, start leading them around the base, but do not let them into the hanger. Dean, Valencia, I want you up on the wing of that 777 providing cover fire from the side. Greyson, you'll be flanking with me in the Jeep. We hold until the Zeus is loaded, and then we're home free. It's on us, boys." There was a single howl from across the graveyard, followed by a nightmarish chorus of screams and shrieks. Carson buckled his helmet securely onto his head. "Headshots bring them down the fastest. Don't get bit. Let's move out!"
The soldiers leapt into action as the ominous howling spread across the airfield. Greyson and Carlson ran over to a forest green Jeep with no doors or roof. Carlson tossed Grey the keys.
"You drive" he shouted. "Lights off, night vision on. And try not to roll us."
"Wouldn't dream of it sir" Grey said, slamming the keys into the ignition. The small car sputtered to life and pitched to the right as Carlson jumped onto the passenger seat. He stood, leaning against the frame of the car and bracing one foot against the dashboard. Resting his shotgun on the floor, he grabbed a huge machine gun from the trunk.
"Drive" he said, fastening an ammo box to the side of the rifle. Greyson stepped on the gas. For an old car, the Jeep had a lot of pickup, and they raced across the airfield towards the encroaching horde.
"I'm gonna bring us around the bulk of the group!" Greyson shouted over the roar of the engine. "Try to pick off the outliers!"
"No problem kid!" Carlson yelled. "Just like gunnin' down desert raiders in Arizona."
"On your left!"
"I see it!"
The entire car rattled as the heavy machine gun began to fire, spitting out lead with bright flashes of light. Carlson cackled as they weaved in and out of the airplanes, gunning down the lithe sprinting Screamers as they went. Some went down, but others were only slowed, dragging themselves over the dirt and grass, shrieking hoarsely. Greyson swung the car to the left. They were now driving directly behind the herd and gaining quickly. The Screamers were like a wave, crashing and spilling over the wreckage in a wild frenzy. Some would run past the hanger. Most would crash right through it.
More gunfire erupted in front of them. The front of the horde had already reached the hanger. Greyson pulled his SMG out and began to fire on the crowd in front of them as Carlson reloaded his weapon. They were now only yards behind the main pack. Some of the Screamers took notice, and began to throw themselves at the Jeep. Greyson dropped his gun, and picked up his riot shield, putting it down in front of his exposed side, just in time for a Screamer to slam into it.
"You're getting too close, son!" Carlson shouted, kicking a Screamer off of the side of the car. "Ease back, give us some breathing room!"
"We can't fall back!" Greyson responded. "If we can't split the herd, they'll trample the hanger!"
With that, he floored the Jeep. The old car roared again, even louder, and they streaked through the swarm, crunching over bones and sinew as they went. When they pulled out in front of the pack, the hanger bloomed into view. A stray bullet flew through the windshield and Carlson's radio crackled to life.
"We're loaded up. Ready for liftoff."
Carlson grabbed the radio. "Taxi her out captain. We'll divert them from the runway. Harrison, swing right! We'll take the left."
Greyson swerved to the left, and Carlson turned around, lobbing a grenade into the path of the oncoming Screamers. When it exploded, a few bodies into the air, but it did little to cull the swarm. Out of the corner of his eye, Grey saw the nose of the Zeus poke out from the hanger. They just needed to buy a little more time.
"Sir!" Greyson shouted. "I have an idea. How many grenades do you have left?"
"One cook-pot and two flash bangs kid. Why?"
"Well the Jeep still has three quarters of a tank" Greyson continued "and I have a kilo of C4."
Although his face was covered, he could practically feel Carlson's wolfish grin behind the mask.
"Well," he laughed "worst case scenario, we go out with a bang."
Greyson chuckled and punched a hole through the windshield. He reached into the explosives pack at his side, and carefully pulled out a white clay brick. As he pressed it onto the hood of the car, Carlson pulled the pins from the flashbangs and lobbed them into the swarm. He shielded his eyes as they illuminated the night behind them. Finally, he pulled the last grenade from his vest. Yanking out the pin with gusto, he looked and Grey and cackled.
"You'd better jump, son!"
Carlson dropped the cook-pot in the center console and the men leapt from the vehicle, rolling away as they hit the ground. A few seconds later, the disoriented Screamers charged past them, some slamming headfirst into the Jeep. And then came the explosion. The shockwave rocked through Greyson, keeping him pinned to the ground. In that moment, the car transformed into flaming wreck, shaking the earth and flinging shrapnel in all directions. The Screamers were decimated, consumed by the inferno in an instant. Slowly, Greyson rose to his knees and staggered back from the flames.
He looked to his right, and saw his commander lying on the ground, hands clasped around his torso. Even from this distance he could see the blood. Greyson sprinted over and made to hoist his CO up, but Carlson batted him away.
"Get out of here. More are comin'." he said weakly. "They'll follow the noise. I'll hold 'em off as best I can."
Greyson could already hear them approaching. "No, sir, we can make it, we can-"
"Shut up and run you idiot." Carlson wheezed. "I'm a goner anyhow."
Feebly, he hoisted up his leg, exposing a fresh bite mark in his calf. "Now get out of here. You have a plane to catch."
"Thank you, sir" said Greyson, holding back tears. He rested his hand on Carlson's shoulder for the last time, and tore towards the runway as fast as he could. The Screamers were visible now, trampling over one another from behind the hanger. Shakily, Carlson hoisted himself upright, using his shotgun as a crutch. He pulled his mask off, spat blood onto the ground, and gave his weapon a hefty pump. Greyson heard four shots, and then a scream of pain. He ran even faster.
The Zeus was now completely out of the hanger, and taxiing down the runway. Even with his legs pumping as fast as they could, the ship was pulling away from him. There was no way he would catch it. Suddenly, the Humvee roared next to him, slowing to match his speed. From the turret, McClintock extended his hand, and heaved Greyson onto the roof of the vehicle. As they neared the spacecraft, the cargo bay door dropped to meet them, sparking and skidding as it made contact with the runway.
The Zeus was starting to pick up speed now, and Greyson could hear the hummer maxing out beneath them. Slowly, the cargo bay doors inched closer. Less than a foot from the door, the Zeus began to pull away. Panicked, Greyson and McClintock scrambled over the Humvee, perching themselves on the hood.
"We have to jump!" Greyson screamed.
McClintock nodded and threw himself onto the ship. Quickly, Greyson leaned over to the side of the hummer and yanked the door open.
"Put it in cruise!" he yelled to Harrison. "You can make it!"
Harrison nodded, and shouted back, "You first, I'll follow!"
Greyson turned, and threw himself from the hood of the car, landing awkwardly at the edge of the bay door. McClintock hauled him to his feet, and the beckoned towards the hummer. The Zeus began to rise from the tarmac. Desperately, Harrison leapt from the driver's seat, but fell short. His body rag dolled over the pavement as the Zeus rose away from the airfield. It was the last their last glimpse of Earth as the cargo bay doors sealed shut before them.
The long, metallic corridor guided Greyson through the Vertigo. He walked past locked doors and white lab coats, making his way towards the mess hall. The floor was flat beneath his feet, but if he looked closely, the minute curvature of the structure was evident. The USG Vertigo was a gyroscopic station, and used centripetal force to generate artificial gravity for its thousand odd residents. The lights above his head flickered occasionally, a fact that he found tiresome after only a week of living here.
The Vertigo itself was nestled halfway between the Earth and Mars. It had originally been constructed as a way station for ships when the terraforming of Mars had first been attempted. After Mars was abandoned sometime in the late twenty first century, the Vertigo remained; an echo from a more hopeful age. Its primary function in recent years was as a highly isolated research facility. It became a haven-for what few scientists' remained-to study things that most of the population back on Earth deemed 'unsavory'.
The facility itself was still fully operational and self-sufficient, if not a little archaic. The water was cycled and filtered in a sustainable fashion, as was the oxygen. So long as the population did not exceed the carrying capacity, the vessel would continue to function, millions of miles away from any planet. The Vertigo was staffed at all levels, from custodians, cooks, and on board physicians. Over the years, there were some who spent their entire lives on the space station. Some of these people died without ever setting foot on a planet. Greyson suppressed a shudder as he considered never knowing the warmth of the sun, or the cool water of the ocean.
Soon, he approached a sliding door, and joined the steady stream of people filing into the mess hall for breakfast. He fumbled around in his pocket, feeling for the identification cards for himself and his family. He would not be able to get his food without them. McClintock, who was a few yards behind in line, stepped forward when he saw Greyson.
"Mornin'." he said to Greyson, awkwardly stuffing his hands into his pockets. "What do ya think it is today, dark meat paste with light green stuff, or light meat paste with dark green stuff?"
"I'm hoping that they go dark on the meat, light on the green. That's how I like it." Greyson looked over at McClintock, and rested a sympathetic hand on his arm for a moment. "How're you holding up?"
McClintock sighed, and scratched his stubbly cheek. "First few days are always tough. And it doesn't get any easier. Harrison and I had just made it through so many scraps together. I guess I just assumed this one wouldn't be any different."
"All good things come to an end buddy" said Greyson. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"How're you doin'?" he asked. "I heard that you and the Commander were pretty close."
"I'm keeping it together. Jacklyn and Thomas have been keeping me pretty busy, so I haven't had much time to brood."
"So the kid made it." McClintock muttered. "Well if that ain't a miracle, I don't know what is."
They moved up the line to one of the many large, gray kiosks standing in a row at the far side of the mess hall. Greyson produced three separate ID cards from his pocket, and scanned each of them into the machine. The kiosk processed the cards for a moment before producing three white, shoebox sized containers, which it deposited onto an adjacent table. Greyson picked up the boxes, and turned to leave, giving McClintock one last pat on the shoulder.
"We'll make through." he said. "Just take it one day at a time."
McClintock nodded soberly, and Greyson joined the flow of people leaving the mess hall. Between the food sector and the residencies was a large block of research labs. Every once in a while, muffled shrieks could be heard over the low electrical hum of the station. Even the thick padded walls of the operating rooms couldn't contain the animal cries of the Screamers. Greyson wondered how many of them were on board. He was certain that the crew of the Vertigo was not equipped to deal with an outbreak if one of them escaped. There were a few security officers sprinkled around the ship, but no trained military personal that he was aware of, save himself and McClintock. Still, it was certainly less dangerous than remaining planet-side.
The atmosphere changed dramatically as he entered the residence block. Here, there was art on the walls and music in the 'streets'. Children played with balls and hockey sticks in the corridors among faux grass and sky that had been painted on the walls and ceilings. People chatted between rooms, giving the isolated station a more neighborly feeling. Greyson stopped in front of his door, and scanned his ID card. Smoothly, the door swung open, and he walked into the apartment.
His room was modest at best. It lacked the clutter of his old home, which Greyson missed. They had left in such a hurry that neither he nor Jacklyn had any time to pack. There was a small table with two chairs in the corner next to the door. To his left was the bathroom, which was no more than a tiny alcove. Packed inside were a small sink and a toilet, which was stuffed within the shower. On the far wall, there was a small window, through which the stars blurred across the night sky. The bed folded from the wall, taking up most of the cabin space when it was down. Jacklyn was in the bunk, wearing a yellow sundress. She was lying amongst a pile of blankets and pillows, nursing Thomas and staring at the television on the opposite wall. Her head snapped over to the door when he walked in.
"Breakfast?" she inquired, looking at the boxes in his hands.
"Yep." said Greyson, placing them onto the table. "Food for the day rest of the day. And we got the extra box for Thomas."
"Oh thank God, I'm so hungry!" she said, rising from the bed. "Here hold him. He hasn't seen his dad yet today."
Greyson gently took his son from Jacklyn, who tore open her box, revealing a small stack of black trays covered in plastic. She took out the top tray, tore the plastic off with her teeth, and proceeded to dig into the food with her bare hands.
"You know we have silverware in the cupboard, right?" said Greyson, slowly rocking the cooing baby in his arms.
"I'm saving dishes." Jacklyn answered, through a mouthful of food.
Greyson sat down on the bed, putting his finger out for Thomas to grab hold of. "You know," he said "I've been looking at the school here, and it actually isn't so bad. When Thomas is old enough, there are even a few sports he can do here."
"Really?" said Jacklyn, putting down the empty tray. "They have sports in this disk?"
"Well there's an indoor track" Greyson replied. "And a hockey rink. I might look into that myself."
"Oh!" Jacklyn exclaimed. "I almost forgot. There was a message for you after you left. They want you up on the control deck to talk to the ship commander at ten hundred. I told them I'd pass along the message."
Greyson glanced at his watch and frowned. "Great. Ten minutes for breakfast. Can you take him?"
Jacklyn took Thomas back from his arms. He started to cry when he left his father's embrace.
"Aww," Jacklyn cooed. "He misses you already. Poor baby."
Greyson grabbed a fork and sat down at the table, carefully peeling back the plastic from his breakfast.
"You know," he said, digging into the dark meat paste "I was skeptical at first, but I think we can actually have a life here. People have been doing it for hundreds of years. And the crime rate is incredibly low on the Vertigo, so people can't be that unhappy. We'll be safe here too. We can stay until they figure out a way to deal with this EOV nonsense."
"I just don't want Thomas to grow up in a place where he can't go outside. He needs to breathe air that hasn't been recycled." Jacklyn sighed. "I hope we can go back before he misses out on his childhood, you know?"
Greyson nodded and looked at his watch again.
"Shit." he muttered, getting up from the table. "I need to get going. I'll see you a little later Jack."
"We'll be here when you get back!" she said, sitting back down on the bed with another tray of food. "Say goodbye Thomas!"
Greyson smiled, and hastily threw his forest green canvas jacket over his shoulders before leaving the apartment. The Vertigo had three rings: the middle ring, where they were now was partially residential, partially research. The engineering ring was to the left, where most of the station was maintained and the docking bay was located. To the right was the command ring. This is where the administrative offices and school were located, as well as some of the athletic facilities.
Getting to another ring was a complicated ordeal. Greyson walked through the main corridor, keeping an eye on the ceiling until he spied an exit hatch. Pulling his ID out of his pocket, he scanned into the hatch, waiting for it to process. After a moment, the small door emitted a beep, and opened, allowing a narrow metal ladder to drop down to the floor. Greyson grabbed onto the ladder, and prepared his stomach to deal with the ordeal of changing rings.
It took a minute or two of climbing before he noticed the change in gravity. After ten minutes, Greyson didn't even have to climb. He simply glided up the chute towards the central cortex, guiding his levitating body with his hands. Greyson floated up to another hatch above his head, and pushed it open. This was the rotational axis of the Vertigo, a gigantic zero gravity cylinder. It was a dizzying place to enter. The three rings of Vertigo each moved in opposite directions, which was disorienting from within the axis of rotation. As Greyson drifted out of his hatch, he grabbed onto one of the many handles on the cylinder wall, using them to walk himself towards the command ring.
There were more commuters in the cylinder, some using the hand holds on the wall like him, others simply floating through the cortex, unfettered by the lack of gravity. Greyson, already uncomfortable from the floating sensation in his belly, kept his eyes glued to the wall. Soon he arrived at the command ring entrance, a rotating series of hatches with labels signifying where they led. He waited patiently for the hatch labeled 'Command Center'. When it arrived, he moved onto the ring and pulled out his ID to scan in again. The hatch beeped in a different tone, and a yellow light flared this time.
"Please keep eyes open for retinal scan" an automated male voice chirped. Greyson stared straight into the glass as a laser glanced across his eyes. "Identity confirmed: Greyson, Alexander." The hatch opened, and Greyson climbed in, beginning the long climb downwards. He couldn't help feeling relieved as the familiar weight slowly returned to his body. The bottom hatch opened automatically as he approached, and the ladder extended the rest of the way to the floor, dropping him into the command center proper.
As he stepped away from the ladder, Greyson was met by a pale woman of average height. She looked to be about fifty, and had a hatchet face with deep frown lines. She was wearing shiny black boots, and a navy personal outfit. Her white blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun. Behind her were two security officers armed with tasers. Greyson saluted the woman, but was met instead with a handshake. Awkwardly, he dropped the salute and shook her hand. It was cold to the touch.
"Alexander Greyson, I am Regina Hoffman, commander of the USG Vertigo" the woman said curtly. "You will refer to me as Miss Hoffman. I would like for you to accompany me to my office, where we will discuss your future on this vessel."
Greyson nodded, and followed Miss Hoffman through the crowded control room to a door at the far side. At the door, she stopped and nodded at one of the security officers. The door slid open, and Greyson followed her inside, alone. The pale lavender walls of the office were covered in pictures of the Vertigo and awards. The desk, which was the centerpiece of the room, was solid, black, and polished to a reflective sheen. Regina walked around the desk and sat in a high backed leather chair. She gestured towards one of the two, smaller chairs opposite the desk, and Greyson sat down, hands resting on his lap.
"I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, Alex." Regina began. "This is not at all how I had hoped to meet you."
"Things have definitely gotten a little out of hand recently." Greyson agreed. "I wasn't expecting to be drifting through space a couple of weeks ago."
Regina scoffed. "Yes, well I'm afraid there are more pressing matters at hand than drifting through space. Allow me to put things into perspective for you." She swiped her hand over the surface of the desk. When she did this, a three dimensional hologram of the planet earth flickered to life above the desk. As the model Earth came into focus, a few areas in the Southern United States and Central America lit up in a red hue. A few sparse areas in Russia and South Africa were illuminated as well.
"This was the range of the East Olympus Virus three weeks ago. This is it today." She tapped her finger on the desk, and the red lights flared out dramatically, covering the entirety of North and South America, as well as most of Russia, and the southern half of Africa. Regina continued to speak.
"Within the next couple of weeks, our scientists predict that the EOV will continue to spread until it has reached all remaining human populations on Earth. It is moving at a rate that has never before been seen in a virus. We have no cure."
Greyson frowned. "So what are you saying? Everyone back on Earth is just screwed?"
Regina sighed, and tapped the desk again, bringing down the hologram. "Essentially yes. If they aren't already, soon everyone on Earth will be infected with the EOV."
"So cure it." Greyson retorted. "We can't just let everyone die out."
"Alex, we are hard at work right now trying to find some sort of solution to this travesty. However, our resources are limited, and we need to start thinking about what to do with the people we still have here." She paused, taking a moment to adjust herself. "I'm aware of what you are capable of Alex. You were augmented with a very specific purpose in mind, using technology created in this very facility. Your purpose is to show us the way into another, better solar system. I know that the original plan was to take a majority of the human population on this journey with us, but things have changed. So must our plans."
Greyson leaned back in his chair. "I'm listening."
"Unfortunately," Regina continued, "Your abilities are of little use to us without the Ark ships. We have no idea how long the journey will be, and without hyper-sleep chambers, it is doubtful that we would survive the trip. That is why I have sent a majority of our standing military force back to the planet in order to secure as many vessels as we can."
"And what happens if they can't get any?" Greyson asked.
"Then we continue to drift out here as the Vertigo decays around us and our branch of the human race dies I suppose." Regina countered. "So let's hope that they do make it back."
"Alright, it sounds like we have all of our eggs in one basket right now." Greyson said. "Is there anything else that I should know?"
"Yes, there is one more thing." Regina said, rising from the desk. "The Ark ships are designed to carry one hundred passengers for an almost unlimited amount of time. We have over one thousand souls here in the Vertigo. It is highly unlikely that my men return with enough ships for everyone here. Many will undoubtedly be left behind. Without food shipments from the planet, they will starve within a year." She gestured at the door. "That is all. I assume you know the way out?"
The punching bag thudded again and again as Greyson relentlessly hammered it with his wrapped fists. It'd only been three hours since Regina had given him a harsh dose of reality. He didn't yet have the strength to fake a smile and tell Jacklyn that they were safe. So he stayed in the command ring, taking out his frustration on a bag of sand. He paused and stepped back, letting the bag rock back and forth as he took a moment to catch his breath.
"Here" came a voice from behind him. "Catch."
He turned and caught a white worn towel. McClintock stood in front of him, wearing a pair of boxing gloves. He waited patiently for Greyson to wipe the sweat from his eyes.
"I see you found the rec center." he said, casually stretching his shoulder. "I've been finding myself here a lot lately. Helps to clear my head."
Greyson chuckled drily. "I haven't had a clear head in a long time. I miss the feeling."
"You and me both" McClintock grimaced. "Are you headin' back home soon?"
"I was going to leave." Greyson admitted. "But I could stay for a while if you want a sparring partner."
"Naw, you go back to your family. That kid's probably missin' you right about now. I'll be fine."
Greyson gave him a halfhearted smile and began strip off his wraps. Giving the punching bag a backwards glance, he strode towards the door. Before he had taken two steps towards the exit, a deafening alarm went off. The lights began to flash red and an automated voice overhead spoke.
"Warning! Warning! Quarantine breach. Warning!"
"Damnit!" Greyson swore. He dropped everything and sprinted for the door, McClintock close behind him. Greyson grabbed his jacket, yanked his ID out of the pocket and rushed out into the corridor. He desperately looked up towards the ceiling, searching for an exit hatch.
"What the hell are you doing?" McClintock yelled behind him.
"I need to get to my family!" Greyson shouted back over the blaring alarm.
"And do what?" McClintock demanded. "You gonna go punch some Screamers in the face? The armory is down the hall! We'll suit up, and I'll come with you. Don't be stupid, Grey!"
Greyson stood still for a moment, visibly torn. "Let's go!" he shouted. They ran down the empty corridor, the halls devoid of any life. They stopped in front of a thick steel door. It was bolted shut. Hastily, Greyson produced his ID card and held it out for the scanner. The door beeped green, and swung open. The inside, the armory was stocked with advanced rifles, shotguns, ammunition and protective suits. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust. It looked as though most of the gear hadn't been touched in years.
The soldiers wasted no time, pulling on the dark combat gear with haste. The space suits were surprisingly light, and completely encapsulated the wearers. The helmets were built like gas masks, and sealed tightly to the rest of the suit. After putting on even more body armor, Greyson grabbed an assault rifle. He connected a black hose on his mask to an oxygen tank on his back and strapped a large, kukri knife to his suit. He looked over at McClintock, who was just tightening a gun-belt around his waist. They were ready.
They climbed through the passage in the ceiling and drifted through the central cortex, red lights flashing as they went. When they climbed down the ladder into the residential block, the halls were empty. Some of the doors were shut tight, but others stood agape, dark against the flashing crimson lights. Screams could be heard in the distance, reverberating off of the metal walls in a ghoulish fashion. Greyson ran through the block towards his home, McClintock hot on his heels. When he reached his apartment, the door was open, and the room was silent. He stopped at the threshold, the cold fingers of dread tightening around his heart. He was terrified, petrified at what might lay within.
"Jacklyn?" His voice was shaking. "Jack, baby, it's me. Jack, are you in there?"
He reached to the nose of his rifle and switched on the under barrel light. Slowly, he raised the gun and illuminated the apartment. The room was utterly destroyed; glass and broken furniture were scattered everywhere. Numb, his weapon fell to the floor as walked into the apartment in a trance. Grey fell to his knees, and picked up the tiny body of his infant son. His vision blurred as tears filled his eyes, welling up in the eyepieces of his mask. Thomas was dead, his neck frozen at unnatural angle. Jacklyn was nowhere to be seen.
Greyson carried his son's body to the bed and laid it down, wrapping it in cloth as best he could. Silently, he said a brief prayer, and rested his finger on Thomas's little hand for the last time. He sobbed, and fell to his knees once more, unable to hold back the tears. After a few moments he stood. McClintock was standing at the doorframe, watching the hall. The man couldn't bear to look inside. Greyson picked up his gun from the floor, and stood next to McClintock.
"I have to find Jacklyn." he said in an empty voice. "I have to know what happened to my family."
McClintock nodded. "I hear them down this way." he said, pointing further down the hall. "The more we kill, the better chance your wife will have, wherever she is."
Cautiously, the men moved down the hall, the shrieks growing louder as the travelled through the residence block. Soon they were passing bodies, lying freshly dead and broken on the ground. Greyson could feel the Screamers, hearts beating rapidly, lungs pumping, throats reverberating. They were approaching a pack, probably the same one that had just torn through his home. His hands tightened around his gun as rage churned inside of him. In that moment, Greyson knew that he would kill every last Screamer on this ship. They approached a corner, and he signaled for McClintock to stop.
Greyson extended his senses. He could feel it, just around the corner, panting, pacing back and forth. It didn't have a chance. Greyson stepped out into the hall, his gun already trained on the Screamer, and squeezed the trigger. Five rounds flew from the gun in quick succession, slamming into the creatures heaving chest. The instant its head connected with the floor, Greyson's booted foot fell into it, crushing its skull. At the sound of gunfire, eight more Screamers poured out of the open rooms. They were met with lead and vengeance.
The halls reverberated with the echoes of the machine guns as Greyson and McClintock walked forwards, gunning down the Screamers with cold efficiency. Slowly, they worked their way through the hall, leaving behind a trail of bullet casings and gore. The Screamers kept coming. Greyson dropped an empty clip from his gun. As he reached for a fresh mag, a female Screamer broke through McClintock's line of fire and leapt at him. Greyson dropped low, and rolled beneath the shrieking woman. As he turned to meet it, he drew the long black kukri and sent it smoothly through her skull.
"There's too many of them!" McClintock shouted as Greyson reloaded his gun. "If we stay here, we're gonna die!"
He was right. They were already starting to backpedal, and the horde of Screamers was showing no signs of letting up. They had now been pushed back to the corner. McClintock swore as his gun clicked empty.
"We need another option here Greyson!" he cried, pulling out his sidearm.
"Follow me!" Grey shouted. The men tore around the corner, the Screamers only seconds behind them. They ran down the hall, desperately searching for an open door that was still intact. As soon as they found a viable room, Greyson flung himself through the door, McClintock close behind him. They slammed it shut and braced themselves against the frame. A second later, the door started to rattle and bang as the Screamers started hurling their bodies into the weak barricade. There was a low whimper behind them. Greyson whipped around, and pointed his gun at a small, shaking figure in a yellow sundress.
Greyson let the gun fall to his side. He took a step towards the woman, her auburn hair draped over her shoulders and face. She sat in the corner of the room, knees pulled tight against her chest. Greyson gingerly extended his hand.
"Jacklyn?" he whispered. "Jacklyn, are you-"
Her head snapped up from her knees, and Greyson saw his wife. Her chin and chest were crimson, and her veins stood out sharp and dark against her soft skin. Her lips were twisted into a toothy, ghastly grin, and her mouth was red with blood. There was no humanity in her bloodshot eyes. She opened her mouth, and unleashed a hellish scream.
Greyson stumbled back against the creaking door, hand shaking as he drew a pistol from his hip. He held it between himself and Jacklyn. Slowly, she stood, her belly still swollen from her recent pregnancy.
"Greyson…" McClintock said hoarsely. "Greyson she's gonna kill us. You have to do it."
Again, tears filled his eyes as he raised the gun to his wife's head. She looked at him, head tilted to the side. For a moment, there was a glimmer of recognition in her emerald eyes. And then she lunged. Greyson shut his eyes and pulled the trigger. It was over in an instant. When he opened his eyes, she was lying before him in a heap, a single bullet wound in the center of her forehead. His gun clattered to the floor, and he scooped her up from the ground. He held her there in his arms, praying to God that this was all a nightmare, that he would wake up in his bed beside to her the next morning. There was no reprieve. She was gone.
The hinges of the door were groaning loudly. It wouldn't be long before they made it inside. Gently, Greyson rested the body of his wife back on the floor, and closed her eyes with his gloved hand. He picked up his gun, pointed it at the window, and fired three times. Everything happened at once. The glass from the window exploded outwards, violently venting the oxygen in the room. McClintock stepped away from the failing door and into the bathroom. He slammed the bathroom door shut behind him. Greyson dove under the bed and the door finally gave, crashing down to the floor. A few Screamers made it into the room, but most turned and ran. The broken window continued to vent for what seemed like an eternity. When it stopped, there was only silence. The middle ring had been purged of all its air. Greyson climbed out from under the bed and opened the bathroom door. McClintock looked up at him. His voice crackled over a radio in Greyson's ears.
"Now what?" was all he said.
Greyson stood for a few moments before replying. "We need to get to the engineering ring. Secure it as best we can for the Arks."
"Do we even know if they're coming?"
"We don't. We'll just have to wait and pray. And survive."
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