"It matters? Ain't like the FCC is really concerned about profanity with everything the way it is. Aren't you listening to me? The world has turned on you guys."
"Yeah, yeah, I heard you, now try again, without the cursing," Wendy smiled sweetly.
Wendy smoothed her hair and quickly checked herself in the reflection of the plate glass store window behind her. Nervously she surveyed the area for roaming animals, but there weren't any for the time being. She couldn't relax, but the handgun strapped to her side gave her some comfort. Behind Wendy's cameraman, her soundman divided his attention between checking sound levels and scanning the area with the tactical shotgun he took off a dead National Guardsmen.
"Don't worry, the animals are done attacking," Honey smiled. "Gaea is done with them for the time being. They did what they were designed to do."
"Gaea? You've mentioned that name a few times now," Wendy said. "Who is that exactly? Your cult leader?"
Honey snorted back a laugh. "You call yourself a reporter? Gaea is Mother Earth."
"You talk about her as if she's a sentient being. Something that is aware, I mean, come on, the earth doesn't have feelings..."
Honey spread her arms and smiled. "After everything that's happened, you're still resistant to the idea of Gaea being real?" She shivered and trailed off. "Oh," she moaned. "I can see it all. I can see everything. I'm, like, connected to her. My brothers and sisters, the other six, I see what they see, I feel what they feel..."
What in the name of all that was holy was she doing out here? Wendy stared at the girl before her, noticing the needle tracks pale against her skin. This girl was obviously disturbed and the animal attacks served as the perfect catalyst for her to take a flying leap into full-on crazy. However, despite the girl's obvious mental issues, much of what she was saying actually made sense when juxtaposed against their current circumstances.
Wendy and her crew lost contact with the station hours ago. Her cell still worked, but wouldn't do any good with nobody on the other end to answer.
News was her life so she didn't have anyone to contact on a personal level. The last news crew they'd encountered had been one town over. The other crew had told her that the President had declared a national emergency and the National Guard had been mobilized. Having been a newswoman for over fifteen years, Wendy knew how stories morphed as they were passed from one person to the next, but one thing was certain, regardless of exaggeration; things were bad all over the world. She'd heard something about these people popping up saying they spoke in Gaea's stead. One for each continent; six in total. A person she'd interviewed said they'd heard on the news these people were performing miracles, stopping animal attacks and being referred to as prophets.
As Honey started talking about seeing everything, being connected, Wendy started listening a bit more closely.
Nobody, but the Emergency Alert System was on the air, TV or radio. The EAS offered a single, lonely line: STAY INDOORS, HELP IS ON THE WAY. Comforting. If help was coming in the form of poorly trained National Guardsmen, then the country really was in trouble. She'd covered Katrina and what she'd witnessed there had appalled and sickened her.
The street was deserted. People seemed to be heeding the Emergency Alert System. Occasionally, Wendy would see a curtain move as someone ducked behind it. So much for "good samaritans". She'd seen what happened to them. Ripped to shreds and eaten alive by the roving animals.
Wendy had never had an urge to understand religion. She was compelled to understand the world through facts, to things she could see and touch. Under the present circumstances, this left her uncharacteristically confused. She knew the concept of Armageddon, it had something to do with horses and some righteous dude coming back to life.
Honey was still ranting about Gaea and how she was cleansing herself. Wendy listened halfway and nodded when Honey seemed to falter in her statement. Then the girl said something that brought Wendy back to the present with a jolt.
"You don't believe me? Go just outside of town. There's a hole there. That's where most of this town ended up. See this?" Honey held up her arm. The track marks made Wendy's stomach clinch, but what really got her attention was Honey's right hand. Across her palm, jagged and angry, something pulsed just below the skin. Honey caressed it with her left finger. The thing seemed to respond to the touch. It took her a few minutes but Wendy recognized what it was. A splinter throbbed beneath the infected palm.
"The hell's that?" the cameraman muttered as he zoomed in on the writhing flesh.
Honey smiled and rushed Brian. He lost his balance as he tried to move away from her attack. Landing on his butt, which might've been comical if it weren't for the grinning maniac shoving her palm into his screaming mouth. The soundman, Jimmy swung the shotgun towards the two struggling bodies but didn't shoot for fear of hitting Brian.
Jimmy wished the Guardsmen were still with them, but Maj. Benson and his men had been decimated by a roving pack of buffalo. They'd led their convoy as they'd entered the city, but the buffalo trapped them in an alley and commenced their attack. Jimmy would never get the image of the Major standing defiantly in the middle of the street firing his .45 until it clicked at the charging beasts. When the bullets proved to have no effect on the rabidly violent creatures, he'd stood tall and proud, until the twelve hundred pound animal rammed into his chest. The Major broke in half at the waist as the horns pierced his body.
Brian suddenly went rigid and his heels started stuttering against the concrete. "Shoot her!" Wendy screamed.
Abruptly, it was all over. Brian ceased his struggles and Honey stood nonchalantly. She dusted the knees of her jeans and slipped a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. She put her hands on her hips and looked down at Brian. A small strand of bloody spit streaked down the right side of his jaw and his eyes were rolled back into his head. Sticking out of his right cheek was the splinter. As Wendy and Jimmy watched in mute horror, the splinter sprouted little barbs from its sides and latched onto Brian's cheek. In the time it took Wendy to blink the splinter disappeared into Brian's cheek.
"It has begun," Honey intoned. "Soon..."
"What's she talking about?" Wendy screamed.
Brian rocketed from the ground. One second he was prone and unresponsive, the next he was hunched over, arms extended, his fingers like claws. His aggressive stance was all the excuse Jimmy needed. The shotgun roared in his hands. Brian was flung back into the side of a building from the force of the blast. He slid to a sitting position, leaving a trail of blood on the bricks above him.
"I can see everything," he whispered as the life dimmed from his eyes. "The ground opens to greet the lambs."
Jimmy turned to find Honey. She was nowhere to be found. "You alright, Wendy?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. What just happened?"
Maynard Tower, Heliport 200 Madison Ave, NYC Robert's hand hesitated over the controls that would start the helicopter's rotors. The woman on phone had told him Maynard was hurt and she would be bringing him up to the roof. That had been a while ago and they hadn't shown. He had access to the security system monitors from the chopper and he'd been entranced by the bears as they flung themselves against the doors. He'd seen the man and woman making their way up the stairs, seen the woman get disintegrated. None of the cameras worked on the floors above where he'd seen the woman die. Maynard didn't allow surveillance in his actual quarters, so Robert had no idea if the woman who'd told him to wait was still alive. He knew she was in Maynard's inner sanctum because she'd been on the direct line, but now he was beginning to doubt that Mr. Maynard was still alive.
His hand still hovered over the helicopter's collective, the lever that controls the movement of the machine and the blades. It wouldn't hurt to have the blades spinning. Just in case they needed to make a swift takeoff. He powered up the rotors, scanning the skies for birds. He'd heard the radio chatter about the planes. He'd seen one of them crash into the adjacent building. Since then he hadn't seen a bird in the sky. Hopefully, they had all died attacking the other aircraft.
Robert sat up as the door to the stairway crashed open. A man emerged. He waved at Robert and started approaching with a hand to his face to protect it from the debris stirred up by the whirring blades.
As the man got closer, Robert recognized him. Couldn't place his name, but he knew the face. The tranquil silence of the cabin was ripped away as the man pulled open the door. He got in the helicopter, fumbled with the door, but managed to slam it shut.
"Rough day?" Robert said, immediately feeling like a schmuck.
The man looked so hopeless and shell shocked it chilled Robert to the core. Finally, the man broke into a huge grin, "Sure, you could say that," he laughed hysterically. He cleared his throat and got a hold of his laughter, "Sorry, name's Gibson Blount. Where you headed?"
"Robert Melba. Not sure, I was waiting on Mr. Maynard and some woman-,"
"They didn't make it," Gibson cut him off. "We're all that's left."
"Oh," Robert breathed. "Hey! How did you make it up here?"
"Emergency service access stairway."
Robert nodded as he finally placed where he'd seen the man. Only someone that'd been employed for a long time would know of the emergency access stairway. Maynard had battled with the engineers and city officials about restricting access to the top floor and when it was apparent the city was not going to allow it, he'd relented and allowed the shaft to remain unobstructed, just not publicized. He turned his attention to the controls. In one smooth motion he raised the collective and they lifted off. He had no idea where to go, but knew anywhere was better than here. Anywhere, but here, would do just fine.
Gibson leaned against his window as they rose into the setting sun. He caught a glimpse of Tammy as she swayed in the breeze. He quickly looked away, placing his hands in his lap to hide the tremors.
A little over an hour later, Gibson was being shaken awake.. It took him a few moments to reorientate himself. After all that had happened he had fallen asleep? He felt guilty but didn't know why.
"Hey, sorry," Robert said. "Didn't mean to startle you. Take a look at something for me and tell me I'm not going crazy," he urged and then pointed to something on the ground.
Gibson rubbed his eyes and peered out of his side of the chopper. At first he didn't recognize what he was looking at. His mouth went dry, as he understood. Below them, at least a thousand people stood in the middle of a field. The crowd jostled and moved, looking like a multi-colored sea. Robert brought the helicopter lower until they could see the expressions on the people's faces. Many of them peered up, some waved, others ignored them.
"That must be one of those safe havens everyone's been talking about," Robert said.
"What?" Gibson asked in confusion.
"Oh, yeah, you must've been out," Robert replied. "I was monitoring the news band, they were talking about the safe havens the religious freaks keep mentioning. They stopped the animal attacks, or at least they've claimed to have stopped them... the religious freaks."
Gibson didn't really understand what Robert had just said, but he nodded. Nothing would ever make sense to him again.
"What the..."
Gibson turned to see why Robert had trailed off. Robert directed Gibson's attention below.
"Oh my god," Gibson murmured.
The ground opened up beneath the crowd's feet like a yawning mouth. A sinkhole. Robert unconsciously pulled the helicopter higher, both of them watched in morbid fascination as the crowd disappeared into the ground. It took a matter of moments, and the ground sprang back into place. The field was empty.
"Sweet Jesus," Robert whispered.
They passed eight more such fields in as many minutes.
The news band, silent, except for a new message repeating on the EAS.
"Things are dire, but we offer solace. By now you've noticed that some of your loved ones are 'different'. Believe me, we only have your best interest at heart. We have stopped the animal attacks, what more do we need to do to prove our benevolence? Listen to your loved ones. Join them in the new world. They only want you to be taken care of. Follow their instructions. Areas outside your cities have been designated as safe havens. Begin your journey to these areas and all will be well. This offer of truce will not be extended forever. Act now, Gaea urges you."
Gibson listened to the rolling EAS message three times before he spoke. "It's a trap, they're getting everyone into one area and the ground is swallowing them up. We have to warn them. Tell them to stay away, that they're traps!"
"We need to set down and fill up first," Robert observed. "There's a refueling station in D.C."
Lincoln City, Nebraska Devon jerked awake as a crash woke her. She yawned. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She got up from the couch where she'd crashed a few hours before. The nap only made her more tired. She moaned as she stretched. Something crashed again. She reached for the automatic rifle leaning against the wall. Fluorescent lights stuttered with an electric hum. She glanced warily at them and silently pleaded, Please, don't go out.
The TVs had gone silent last night. The frantic reporters slowly going mad on screen were replaced by a bright yellow emergency screen, which stopped just before she'd fallen asleep. A few TVs still glowed, snow and static fluttering in the gloom, they were kept on by a few of the survivors who refused to accept the new reality. The radios still worked, though there really wasn't much of anything coherent on the airwaves. A few stations had been taken over by weirdoes and fanatics spewing their special brand of madness. The only constant in the broadcasts was the unraveling of mankind, strand by strand. She'd finally stopped listening for real news. Just before she'd made that decision, she'd heard about the so-called prophets. Some wild crap.
There were forty-two souls in the barricaded hospital. They came from all walks of life. Computer programmers, medical staff, reporters, housewives, soccer moms, bankers, truck drivers, bartenders and military now clung together. The scratching animals had provided relentless noise as they attempted to find access. Their hungry moans and constant scratching became commonplace, sinking into their subconscious. This new sound, the crash, was different. Melissa couldn't place just what was different. She just knew that something was different. The crash came again, closer this time.
EMT's, burst through the emergency room doors pushing a stretcher that held a screaming, thrashing and bloodied man.
Melissa immediately took charge of the situation. The man was swimming in blood, the sheet covering him was so heavy with it that it was difficult to lift.
"What happened to him?" she shouted over the EMT's curses. She tried to assess the situation and her heart leapt in her throat when she caught the dull glow of a blood spattered police badge.
"Animal attack," one of the medics rambled. "They they...they were trying to pull his intestines out!"
"What?" Melissa shot back, then she saw why there was so much blood. Pink, glistening intestines stuck to the sheet as she tried to lift it. The cop screamed with renewed agony. He grabbed her wrist in an iron grip and yanked her to him. She almost lost her balance from the unexpected tug, but managed not to face plant into the steaming guts. They were friggin' steaming. Later, it would be the one thing she would recall. Over and over again.
"I couldn't kill them," the cop choked. "I shot all of them with a full clip, but they kept coming. I shot them with a full clip."
Melissa knew instantly from the shine in the wounded cop's eyes he wasn't going to make it. She'd seen that death glaze many times during her time in the ER. It was a look you could never erase from your mind. She gripped his hand, "You're going to be fine," she lied. "We'll have you fixed up in no time.
"Tell my wife and kids I love them," he whispered. Each word softer than the last, Melissa felt the life drain from him with each exhalation.
"He's gone," she stated. "What attacked him?"
"Housecats..."the medic replied. Melissa noticed the glint of shock sparkling in his walleyed gaze.
Things happened quickly and the staff at the hospital sensed something was definitely going wrong. The riots started, the cops were overrun, the bodies piled up. The attacks weren't limited to any particular animal species. Dogs, cats, birds, coyotes, deer, even prairie dogs had reportedly been attacking. The brunt of the casualties came from pets unexpectedly turning on their owners.
By the time the government woke up to the crisis the country was in turmoil. The National Guard was dispatched to quell the uprising, but it was only a matter of time, before they were outnumbered. How could you win against an enemy that was everywhere? Every animal was suspect. There were countless theories during the early hours of the attacks. Moon phases were to blame, a massive outbreak of rabies. Some theories were really farfetched, but somehow made sense under the circumstances.
When the President declared martial law, it was too late. The animal menace spread quickly, compromising all major infrastructures and city centers. As if it was a planned invasion. The animals had control within six hours. Pockets of survivors across the country still held out, but it was only a matter of time. The animals always found a way to get to hiding people. Based on the scattered news reports that came into Lincoln, the rest of the world was in the same predicament.
Sgt. Brian Lewis rushed to the source of the commotion. He barely avoided colliding with Melissa as she emerged from the office to his left. "What's going on?" she asked.
"Follow me, I might need you," he ordered tightly.
Melissa fell in behind him. Ahead, one of the other Guardsmen struggled with an obviously distraught woman.
Melissa immediately recognized her. Tara Brown. She'd come into the hospital just before the animals attacked. Two weeks overdue, the woman had been miserable. Melissa made it a habit to visit the maternity ward on her breaks. Seeing all that life made it easier to cope with all the death she saw downstairs.
"What's going on here?" Lewis asked.
The Guardsmen released the woman as if he'd been caught doing something untoward. Melissa glanced at his nametape. "Private Wilson..."she wasn't able to finish. Tara suddenly rushed the distracted soldier and ripped his M4 from his grasp. She waved it around erratically. "Don't come near me," she spat.
Lewis expertly pulled his 9mm sidearm and calmly leveled it at her head. "Put that gun down...now," he said coldly.
"Everyone, take a deep breath," Melissa suggested, stepping between the two. Before this, she'd have never dreamed of placing herself in a direct line of fire, but the last few hours changed her meek demeanor. "What's going on, Tara?" she asked evenly.
It surprised her that her voice was steady, because her heart was thundering in her ears. "Come on, Tara, tell me what's going on. I'm here for you."
She seemed to relax slightly. Tears streaked her face. Melissa could smell fear wafting off the woman. "My baby's sick," she moaned. "He was going to kill it. I went to the bathroom. When I came out, I found that bastard trying to smother my baby!"
"I wasn't," Wilson shouted. "I was just trying to make her more comfortable."
"Bullshit, you were trying to kill her!" Tara screamed. All of them cringed, expecting Tara to fire.
"She reminds me of my child," Wilson said, voice cracking slightly. "I lost my wife and child. They got them before I could get home to save them. I just wanted to see your baby."
Lewis watched Tara intently. Melissa paled as she saw his finger tightening on the trigger. "NO!"
The left side of Tara's face disappeared in a puff of red mist. Her hands jerked and the gun fell from her hands. She stood there for a few seconds, a surprised look on what was left of her face. Slowly, she collapsed to her knees, and then fell face first to the floor.
"Jesus!" Wilson exclaimed.
Lewis quickly trained his gun on Melissa and Wilson. "You have something to say?" he challenged. "She was threatening the life of one of my men," he reasoned. "She was going to fire."
"The hell she was," Melissa screamed. "You bastard. You bastard!"
"I'd watch your mouth if I were you," Lewis smiled. The smile was rife with madness. Melissa realized he had actually enjoyed shooting the helpless woman. A sudden coldness enveloped her as she saw that the Sergeant wanted her to provoke him. He wanted a reason to shoot her too.
The hospital consisted of four floors. The ground floor had five entrances and no windows. The main entrance was ER Receiving, the biggest opening of the building. It consisted of two large sliding glass doors. The glass was thick and proved strong enough to withstand the constant assaults from the animals. They milled about the entrance; going crazy whenever they saw a person. If someone walked by, they threw themselves against the glass and howled with frustration. The humans avoided that area if at all possible. It was disconcerting to see the animals battering themselves bloody in their eagerness to attack.
A loading dock was located at the rear and consisted of three large roll-type doors. All but one of the doors had been welded shut, to allow an escape route if the animals managed to overrun the hospital.
On the south side, there were five fire escape exits, which were welded shut. There was a distance of eighteen feet from the ground to the second floor windows. Lewis stationed his small contingent of soldiers at intervals along the second floor. They stood guard non-stop for the first three hours until it was determined the animals could not scale the walls.
As the hours crawled by, the confines of the survivor's prison wore on them and small spats erupted. It was inevitable, considering the stress and the tight quarters. Fortunately, there was nothing too serious. Melissa worried because it was only the first day, what would become of them if the hospital became their home for weeks or months?