The man motioned with the rifle once more. "Get your butt over here...now."
Jody glanced over at Elisa. An unspoken communication passed between them before Jody screamed, "RUN!"
Jody grabbed Tucker's hand and turned, fleeing to the bowels of the Zoo. She got six steps when something stung her neck. It felt like a bee sting but quickly turned numb. She found herself on the ground and disoriented.
Vaguely, she heard Elisa scream and Tucker yell, sounding like he was underwater. She brought a hand to her neck and winced as her fingers brushed something sticking out. She pulled on it and it came out easily. She squinted, trying to see what it was, but found it hard to focus. A yellow plume, a feather, seemed to bleed with the sway of her fingers. "A tranquillizer dart," she pushed through uncooperative lips. It didn't seem fair, to survive vicious animals to be taken down by some maniac! The world retreated from her vision and she found herself falling into velvet darkness. Before she passed out, the man's grinning face hovered over her. A strand of tobacco-tinged spit hung in mid-air. She never felt the gruesome mixture splatter her face.
Part 2.
"...And it came to pass, as he had made an end of speaking all these words, that the ground clave asunder that was under them, and the earth opened her mouth, and swallowed them up, and their houses, and all the men..."-Numbers 16: 31,32a Latitude 75E35' S, Longitude 26E39' W.
Brunt Ice Shelf, Coats Land, Antarctica.
Six Months Ago.
Life at Halley V wasn't for everyone. British Antarctica Survey's most isolated research station was situated on a floating ice shelf. Supplies landed twice a year by ship, and were towed on sledges behind Sno-Cats. The transport was a massive undertaking, covering a grueling distance of twelve kilometers of the desolate ice expanse.
Melissa Egbert looked over the printouts of last night's atmospheric readings as she sipped a steaming mug of tea. "You're up early, 'Lissa," Stewart Miles greeted her, closing the heavy door behind him. "Morning, Stewart," Melissa smiled. "Yeah, this darkness thing is screwing with my sleep cycle," she moaned referring to the 105-day stretch of darkness during the winter. "I don't know if it's night or day unless I look at my watch!" "You'll get used to it in a few weeks," Stewart replied with a chuckle. "Eventually, you won't even wear a bloody watch. Everything is pretty much on timer and all we have to do is keep track of the printouts." "I've noticed. I don't know, I guess, I was expecting a bit more 'work'?" "Oh just staying alive up here is work enough, 'Lissa."
Normally, Melissa was stationed on Bird Island, South Georgia, with two other assistants. They were responsible for monitoring the resident populations of seals, penguins, albatrosses, but she popped down to Halley V to check readings once every two weeks. She got along well with her colleagues and enjoyed the work. She was an excellent technician and proud of her aptitude.
She walked over to the drafting table and spread out the atmospheric data. She frowned as she noticed the anomaly she'd seen a few weeks earlier, on Bird Island. It was exactly the same atmospheric change, separated by a few weeks in both places. On Bird Island, the animal population was exhibiting some abnormally aggressive patterns. Just last week, she and Horace Carlisle were accosted by a pack of seals. They'd had to scramble back into the Sno-Cat as the normally docile creatures came at them.
Horace had been on the shelf with BAS since the early 70's, and claimed he had never seen anything like it. He attributed the behavior to timing, it was mating season and they'd most likely infringed on the seals' mating ritual. Respecting Horace's vast experience, Melissa agreed with his findings. A few days later, she'd been out with Terrence Wilson, the other Zoological scientist and the penguins acted in the same manner as the seals. Attacking penguins? Harmless, but all the same Terrence sustained minor cuts and slashes when one of the three foot penguins managed to sneak up and attack him. The mating season for the penguins was still three months off. Melissa speculated to Terrence that there was the possibility of an atmospheric explanation. Didn't animals' sense earthquakes and the like, becoming agitated? Maybe there was something to it, Terrence agreed, while Horace scoffed and hit her with his experience compared to her lack of it. Still, there were the slight fluctuations in temps here at Halley V and Bird Island. Nothing one would notice in the course of study, unless you coupled it with the weird animal attacks. Maybe nothing, maybe something. She looked up and motioned Stewart over. "I want you to take a look at something," she said. Stewart walked over and leaned on the table in his easy manner. He smelled of bacon and eggs and it reminded her that she was hungry.. He placed the two number columns side by side. "What exactly am I looking for?" he asked.
"You heard about the animal aggression..." Melissa began, but Stewart held up a hand and interrupted. "'Lissa," he sighed. "Horace already documented that the two of you crossed some mating seals, and you know how he hates being crossed himself. You sure you want to question him?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "Sure, the seals are mating, I'll give him that, but what about the freakin' penguins? They don't attack for Christ sakes! One came after Terrence?" Melissa hesitated, biting her lip indecisively. "Go on," Stewart encouraged. "Well, this is going to sound silly, but the look in that penguin's eyes? It wasn't just attacking, being territorial or protecting a nest...it was angry.""Angry? Like an emotion?" Melissa huffed in frustration, "Don't make me feel any more stupid than I already do!" "Hey, now, I'm just repeating what you just said," Stewart defended. "The animals are more aggressive, so you're looking for an explanation other than mating or being territorial. That's your job, actually," he grinned. "But, you also have to remember Horace was doing this way before you were born...I know, I know...he can be a condescending twat sometimes, but the man does know animal behavior. Don't shoot me, I'm hearing you out, but also letting you know, you do not want to get on Horace's bad side, you know?" "I know," Melissa sighed. "But it's just...damn it, I keep going back to the fact that penguins don't attack like that. Honestly, the rest of the harem had the same look in their eyes. I was honestly frightened for our safety. I mean, come on, that's more crazy than anything," she offered a nervous chuckle. "Scared of penguins."
"Ok, maybe there could be something going on," Stewart conceded. "If there is, you're going to have to back up your suspicions with hard data, so what am I looking at here on the sheets?" he repeated. Melissa came back to the table and grabbed a yellow highlighter. She quickly highlighted three instances where there was a slight, less than .00001 of a fluctuation in ozone. Stewart looked at the numbers Melissa highlighted and crossed his arms. He turned from the table and started to pace, his brow furrowed in thought. "How much do you know about the Greenhouse Effect?" he asked suddenly.
"Umm, just that it's bad," Melissa quipped, "Sorry, I know ozone has something to do with it and I know the atmosphere is being depleted daily of ozone...the less ozone, the hotter it will get, which affects weather, the ocean, evaporation, etc, etc."
"There's also a very silent majority of scientists that speculate that other planets had life on them at on time, but due to ozone depletion, life on those planets died out. That's partly what the Greenhouse Effect hypothesizes," Stewart explained. "That the Earth's atmosphere will disappear and the Earth will purge contaminants to cleanse itself of what's causing the contaminants...us...it's called Phrenetic Theory."
"Never heard of it," Melissa replied. "I know phrenetic means frenzied, wild, or in some cases rabid, right?" "Pretty much, well, except the rabid part" Stewart nodded, "but you're not going to learn about Phrenetic Theory in college or from many scientists cause it's well.... unscientific. It's more pagan in origin. Basically, the Earth is a living entity, it has a soul, feelings." "Gaea, right?" "Right," Stewart agreed with a surprised look. "Hey, I took a year of Greek mythology in college. The Greeks believed Gaea was the goddess of the Earth. So, this theory? Phreneticism? It states the Earth will rise up and defend itself or something like that?" "Pretty much. The only reason I know about it is I hang out in chat rooms late at night," he grinned sheepishly. "Like I said, there are a few, mind you a few, fringe scientists who actually give credence to this belief. They say man is a cancer and the Earth will fight back someday, and in some cases is already doing it through earthquakes, tsunamis, and hurricanes. It will drive humans into extinction."
"Wow you hang out in chat rooms?" Melissa jabbed. "So what do my fluctuations in Ozone mean?" "Ozone absorbs ultraviolet photons. Without ozone, this high energy light would penetrate much further into the earth's atmosphere and destroy animal and plant cells," Stewart said. He traced a finger down the number columns. "Here, here and here, the Ozone levels fluctuated minutely. Now, normally, this wouldn't mean anything, but here at the bottom of the world, well, it's not normal rules, maybe you might be onto something." "If the animals are attacking 'cause the lack of Ozone is causing their brains to bake..." "I didn't say that, but it's something to consider...between us," Stewart admonished. "Keep this little craziness between us for the time being. At least until we have more data to back it up."
"What about the attacks? Won't there be more of them?" "Watch your back out there and carry a rifle." "We have guns here?" "Tranqs and a few hand guns." "That's comforting."
KUSA 9 Newsroom Denver, Colorado Current Day "Van Allen!" P.C. Heinz's voice boomed across the newsroom. "In my office!"
The room was filled with the clacking of computer keys, ringing telephones, and shouting reporters. The phrase, "If it bleeds, it leads", had never been more accurate. The media were in frenzy with the recent animal attacks around the country. When the planes started plummeting to the ground there was palpable electricity through the room as the first report, then another, then confirmation of the first, started pouring across the wires.
Wendy made sure her work was saved and practically leapt from her desk, hurrying through the tumult to her editor's office. Newspaper ink ran in her blood. She'd joked on numerous occasions that if you cut her she'd bleed Carbon Black.
After fifteen years with the Denver Post, she'd made the leap from print to broadcast news. KUSA 9, an NBC affiliate, was a definite change from the ink and paper side of the news business. When she'd written a column, she turned it in, made the necessary corrections, then moved on, now that she was on camera, she had to worry that her dress or shoes might affect a story.
She smoothed back her red hair and made sure her blouse wasn't dirty. She was still in the habit of checking herself for ink smudges and stains. God, she missed the smell of paper and ink in the morning. She grinned and stepped through the office door.
"Yeah, boss?" she asked. "What's up?"
Heinz was an intimidating figure, if you allowed him to be. 6' 6", 325, all muscle. P.C.'s desk was the size of a small boat, custom made to accommodate his massive frame. When Wendy first interviewed for the job, P.C. had been slightly taken aback, she'd taken his bulk and height in stride. Most people trembled in his presence, she did not. P.C. would never admit it aloud, but she had balls and that had snagged her the job. Although they had never met, his father had been an Ink hound, as his father before him, so he and Wendy knew most of the same people. They were cut from the same cloth.
"You're being embedded with the 220th Military Police Company," Heinz said, leaning back in his steel enforced chair. "That is, if you want it," he grinned.
Wendy smiled and crossed her arms across her chest. "When do I leave?" she countered.
P.C's face softened and he motioned towards the door, "Close that for a second." She closed it and the din of the busy newsroom became a dull murmur. He took a breath. "I'm just going to come out and say this, ok? Hear me out. Something hinny is going on out there, Wen. We're not sure what it is yet, but I've got a feeling...been in this business long enough...something big is happening. With the President declaring a national emergency and mobilizing the Guard things will get even nastier. Remember Katrina? This is going to be much worse. Whatever is going on isn't happening all at once, it's almost like the stages of an invasion creeping around the planet. People are on the verge of panic; these animal attacks are unbelievable. Nothing's happened here yet, but when it does, people are gonna lose it. Like I said, I've got a feeling it's coming. You know how newsies' gut feelings are..."
"Pretty freakin' accurate," Wendy interjected needlessly.
"You get out there, you take care of yourself," P.C. finished. "Speech finished."
"When have I ever not taken care of my cute butt?" Wendy quipped.
A few hours later, Wendy was almost finishing checking off equipment with her soundman, Jimmy Banks, and her camera jockey, Brian Wade. They were parked in the 220th staging area. Flurried activity was all around them. When Wendy had Brian run some stock footage earlier the guardsmen were busy scurrying about the tarmac.
"Ms. Van Allen?" A gruff voice said from behind her.
Wendy turned from the door of the van and flashed her "TV" smile. "Please, call me Wendy," she beamed and held out her hand.
The Major glanced down at his greasy hands and grimaced, "Not sure if you wanna shake hands with me," he apologized as he glanced her up and down. "I'm sorry, but...is that what you're wearing?"
Wendy glanced down at her high heels, white skirt and black silk blouse. "No, this isn't what I'm wearing, Major Benson," she flashed her smile again. "I've got my safari outfit in the van."
Benson let the silence lengthen as he decided whether she was screwing with him. He wasn't too keen on having a civilian news crew tagging along. He'd been in Iraq and seen what a pain some of these guys could be. Always having to save their inexperienced butts, at the most inopportune times. Usually right in the middle of a friggin' fire fight. One thing, though, this chick didn't flinch or waver from his gaze as he studied her. That was something at least.
"What do you think you're signing up for?" he finally asked.
"To cover the news, Major. My crew can take care of themselves, don't worry," Wendy returned. "In fact, why not let's start? What do you think is happening, Major?"
Wendy didn't have to check to know Brian already started the camera rolling. He had a way of intuiting when she'd lapse into interview mode.
The Major glanced up at the sky and formulated his response. "Something bad is happening," he said finally. "I'm sure you're aware of what happened in NYC, Chicago, L.A., San Fran, Minneapolis, Detroit, D.C?"
"Yes, the planes. What do you think is going on? Is it only confined to the major cities or all over?"
"Well, I've heard from a few of my men that the planes were taken down by birds. Now, planes' getting taken down by a bird or two is nothing new, but a flock of them? Purposely ramming themselves...and not just any birds, but sparrows, eagles, ducks, geese, pigeons, seagulls? All working together? All of this could definitely be happening elsewhere and the news just hasn't made it to us yet...Denver isn't that big and it's happening to us, so we might see it in other smaller places" Benson paused as he noticed the red light on the camera behind Wendy. His gaze narrowed and his tone changed, "We're deploying to provide relief for the affected area. It seems from the reports coming in that Sterling is on the verge of a riot, some of our guys are already there and they're reporting multiple animal incidents in the area. Those citizens need our help and that's where we're headed first. That's all for now, I'll send over someone to assist you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got an Army to run."
"Prick..."Jimmy muttered as soon as the Major was out of earshot. "Like it was a chore?"
"Drop it, Jimbo," Wendy warned. "He's only doing his job and he doesn't like having to watch out for us."
"You really believe that?" Brian grinned.
"Heck, no. He's a prick," Wendy laughed.
Maynard Tower 1st Floor Promenade 200 Madison Ave, NYC Bill made it safely to the bank of elevators. He turned and grinned, motioning for them to come over. A low growl caused him to pause mid wave. He slowly glanced behind him. Crouched on the far elevator's roof was one of the cats. The elevator had glass walls, and rode up and down in a glass shaft. It was the kind you could see rise and fall if you were on the outside of it, if you were inside, you could see the ground rush away from your feet as you rose. Bill preferred enclosed elevators and fortunately, The Tower had those as well. The idea of seeing just how far you had to fall to your death never really appealed to him.
"Don't move," Gibson hissed. The cat glanced in his direction and seemed to dismiss him as too far away, too much of an effort. It refocused on Bill, licking its bloodstained jaws as it rose to its feet.
"Hey, hey, over here," Gibson yelled attempting to distract the animal. "If it comes over here, we're going back to the freezer," he said to Mary. "Bill, if it moves this way, get in the elevator, ok?"
Bill nodded and prepared to run to the open elevator. Gibson started yelling again, banging his cleaver on the doorjamb. The sound clanged across the expanse of the promenade. The cat shook its head at the annoying noise and leapt from the elevator. It flew towards Gibson, and Bill broke for the elevator. He reached it and pushed the call button. The cat was half way to Gibson when it paused, distracted by the swish of the elevator doors opening, the animal glanced back and changed direction. It bounded towards the open elevator as Bill frantically pushed the buttons. The doors started to slide shut, Gibson watched in horror as the cat leapt the last few feet and into the cab. Bill screamed in terror, but the cat stopped short of him, its tail stuck in the doors. It roared and swiped at him.
Gibson and Mary rushed over and Gibson grabbed the thing's tail as the elevator began to rise. Didn't elevators have a safety feature that prevented them from closing when its doors were obstructed? Gibson wondered. That's when he noticed the tail lodged underneath the door and not between the doors. The elevator rose a few feet and then ground to a halt. Bill cried out as the cat's tail gave way. Gibson fell back to the floor and stared at the fragment of tail he clutched in his fist. The glass of the elevator splashed red as the cat attacked Bill. It only lasted a few seconds but Gibson would hear his friend's screams for the rest of his life.
"Oh god," Mary whispered and crossed herself. Gibson flung the tail fragment aside in disgust and grabbed Mary's hand and said, "Let's go get Tammy."
They made their way over to the stairwell and started climbing. It was slow going, they were scared and the emergency lights left deep shadows in the corners. Every few floors Gibson would pause to listen for survivors or animals. Because it was a weekend most of the building was free of employees but there were always a few workaholics around and he didn't want to miss them.
As they approached the 13th floor, they could hear the bears attempting to break into the stairwell. Ominous booms echoed through the halls from the bears struggling against the fire doors. Each time one of the bears hit the door Mary would flinch and squeeze Gibson's hand more tightly. If those things made it into the stairwell they wouldn't stand a chance.
As they passed the door, the bears stopped and chuffed, catching Gibson and Mary's scent. Gibson picked up the pace and they quickly left the bears below. A few moments later the bears resumed their efforts to break down the door.
On the 48th floor, an airplane wing halted their progress. Gibson tried to find a path over or under the thing but it was no use, the walls had collapsed around the wing after it had burst into the building. The wind howled forlornly through cracks in the walls. There was one fissure that appeared large enough for them to slip through, but Gibson changed his mind as soon as he stuck his head through and vertigo overtook him. Climbing on an airplane wing hanging outside of a building on the 48th floor was too much. He didn't care how many animals pursued them. "Now what?" he muttered in frustration.
"There's stairs on the opposite side of the building. Maybe we can get up from there. We'll just go down a flight and go across," Mary offered.
She walked down a flight and tried the fire door. It was hot to the touch. By the time the sensation of heat passed to her brain she'd pulled the door open slightly. The inferno on the other side of the door was starving for oxygen, every molecule was stolen by the inferno, stealing Gibson's breath from his lungs. The air contracted, expanded out, and blew the door outwards with tremendous force. The door slammed against the far wall. Mary disappeared in an explosion of blood and bone as the door embedded her into the wall.
Instinctually, Gibson dove down the stairs as the fire licked the far wall. He tried to scream as pain staggered through his body, with no oxygen, he made no sound. His mouth hung open in the silent scream as he tumbled down the unforgiving stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, he pulled himself into a sitting position. He felt like passing out and his head hammered mercilessly. He gulped the air around him and managed to maintain consciousness. He cried into his soot-covered hands. In the space of twenty minutes two of his friends had been cruelly wrenched away from him.
Stories below, a fire door finally gave way. The bears were into the stairway.
Saarinen Circle Chantilly, VA Jody regained consciousness suddenly and wherever she was, it was dark. She tried to bring a hand to her head. After a few seconds she discovered why her hands weren't moving. They were tightly bound behind her back. When she tried to flex her fingers, white-hot splinters of pain shot through her wrists. She gasped in agony. She started to panic, she was tied up, in the dark. She fought to keep her breathing under control. Taking stock of her situation, she realized that she wasn't in the dark, but that her head was covered. She could see light through the material that sheathed her head. It was some kind of cloth she realized, maybe a t-shirt?
The surface on which she lay was hot and gritty. She licked her chapped lips and tried to work up some saliva to swallow. She tensed as something touched her side.
"It's ok," a small voice whispered. Tucker, she realized. "Don't say anything or move, don't let the bad man know you're awake," he urged. His voice hitched. "They stopped earlier, about twenty minutes ago and he took Elisa with him...he...he...he came back alone. I don't know what happened, but he was covered in blood-,"
"Shhh," Jody managed. Tucker's small hand slipped into hers. It pained her to squeeze his hand, but she did the best she could.
"What 'cha doing, boy?"
Tucker let go with a whimper and scooted away from Jody. She bit back a scream as the ropes bit into her wrists as the vehicle rattled and bucked over something on the roadway. The movement and sounds started to make sense, she was in the van.
Her head was jerked upwards, she quickly squeezed her eyes shut as the hood was roughly pulled off her head. When she opened them, she saw a pair of scuffed, black motorcycle boots shuffle into view.
"You awake, ain't you?" the man chuckled. "Open your eyes now."
When she didn't open her eyes the man shook her roughly, "I told you to open your eyes," he said in a low, menacing voice. It was the voice of pure evil. Jody slowly opened her eyes and stared at her captor. He grinned and said, "That's better. You have pretty eyes. Anyone ever tell you that? Fine, don't talk to me. Believe me, you will, yep, you sure will, your little friend practically sang there at the end. Didn't she, Johnson?"
The woman laughed and responded, "Yes, she sure did, Kevin. She sure did."
"Why are you doing this?" Jody choked past a sob.
"Why not?" Kevin snorted in amusement. "Whose gonna stop us? The world is gone, darling. This is the new age of do whatever you wanna do!"
"What happened to Elisa?"
"She's fine, really," Kevin said. "I don't know for how much longer though. I left her strung up by her feet over a toilet. As long as she can keep her self up she won't drown. My, that was what? An hour ago? I do sure hope her arms are strong," he finished with a laugh.
"You bastard!" Jody cried and spat in his face.
Kevin grinned and wiped the spittle from his cheek and lips. He slid his tongue out and licked it from his hand languidly. "Mmmm, tasty." He laughed as the van made a left hand turn causing him to lose his balance. "Take it easy up there, Johnson!"
"Let Tucker go," Jody pleaded. "You can do whatever you want to me, just let him go. It's me you want, not him."
Kevin laughed and acted like Jody had just told him the best joke in the world. "You'd rather me toss the little brat out there where he's more than likely going to get torn to shreds by some animal than keep him safe and sound in here with us?"
"At least those animals would make it quick," Jody whispered.
Kevin made as if to strike her for the comment, but Johnson interrupted from the front, "Hey baby, I think we may have just found us a ride."
Kevin got up from his crouch and made his way to the front of the van. He knelt between the seats and looked. "Well, I'll be."
They were driving by an airport and there on the far side of the runway a helicopter was landing next to a fueling station. Kevin dug into his back pocket and produced a leather wallet. He flipped it open and smirked, "I'm Detective Severs, and we need a lift!"
Maynard Tower 42nd Floor 200 Madison Ave, NYC Gibson gingerly touched the doorknob. It was cool to the touch. He took a deep breath and quickly yanked the door open. When no fire engulfed him he let out a sigh of relief. He'd sat on the steps for a few minutes mourning the loss of his two friends and might've sat there until death claimed him had it not been for Tammy. He'd tried to call her on his cell but hadn't gotten an answer. Still, that didn't mean anything. Her battery could've gone dead, heck, he realized, it was only a remote possibility that the towers were still even relaying calls. He would not give up on Tammy until either he found her or saw her body. That was what got him to his feet and moving once more. He'd tried floor after floor, but the doors had all been warm to the touch. His hope for finding Tammy was beginning to wane as he tried the door to the 55th floor.
He raced down the hallway to the west side of the building to the other stairwell. He tried not to think about being unable to reach the 55th floor from this side, but the thoughts crept into his mind as much as he tried to crush them.
He made it to the 54th floor and stopped in surprise. The stairs ended. There was no access to the 55th floor. He felt like kicking himself for not remembering, last year Maynard restricted access to his floor due to his growing paranoia. Gibson went back down to the 42nd floor. Again, Gibson carefully tested the doorknob, it was still cool.
The hallway was in a shambles. It looked as if a tornado had stormed through the corridor...with a bucket of red paint rather than wind. The metallic scent of blood and urine was strong, almost overpowering. He gagged and brought an arm to his nose and mouth, breathing through the fabric of his shirtsleeve.
He loathed stepping into the blood-spattered hallway but it was the only route left to take. He remembered Tammy telling him one of the cats had made it up this far. Where was it? From the carnage it had obviously spent its sweet time here. Gibson brought the cleaver to bear in front of him and started down the hall. Every open doorway was a potential threat; every piece of furniture potentially concealed a promise of death.
Gibson was almost to the end of the hall when the cat stepped out of the room directly in front of him. The cat was just as surprised to see him, as he was to see it. Gibson yelled and flung the cleaver at the cat. The cleaver thunked into the cat's head and the animal went down like a sack of bricks. Gibson stared in disbelief. A laugh built in his gut until it became a full-fledged guffaw.
"Holy crap," he wheezed. "Holy crap, holy crap."
Gibson finally found a way to get to the 52nd floor after some trial and error, with no encounters with any more animals. His elation at some progress abruptly ceased as something crashed into the window in the office directly in front of him. A look of recognition passed between him and the person outside the window.
Maynard Tower Between the 55th Floor and the 52nd Floor 200 Madison Ave, NYC Tammy only intended to swing back and ram her feet into the glass, what happened took her completely by surprise. The hose strained and the valve that secured it to the wall twisted and snapped. She was falling. She desperately tried to gain purchase on one of the ledges as they flashed by her face and screamed in agony as her wrist shattered on the hard concrete and glass.
The Skyway was coming fast. She was going to crash through the glass after all. She felt herself stop with a suddenness that took her breath away. The hose cinched painfully around her waist. A dry crack echoed between the buildings as her back snapped from the sudden stop. As her vision faded to black, she locked eyes with Gibson. She was alive long enough to hear him scream through the thick glass and feel her toes brush the top of the Skyway as she swayed in the wind Lincoln, Nebraska "The world, as we know it, isn't going to end with a bang, but with a roar. How many times have you been told mankind will be annihilated with the push of a button? Nuclear winter was the buzzword in the 80's, in the 90's it was killer viruses, and now in the new century, it's terrorism, Iran, North Korea and Saddam.
"Here's a newsflash, people, I'm the reason the world is about to end. I'm responsible. My name is Honey Michaela and I just started the ball rolling on the destruction of the human race. Let me clarify something, I mentioned earlier, that the world was about to end, that's not necessarily accurate, more like the world is about to exact its revenge on the cancer that is mankind. She's pissed, people, and payback's a bitch."
"Cut, cut," Wendy Van Allen sighed. "Honey? You can't use that language on camera."