Reanimated_Terminal Misery Page 12

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  The men appeared to be mere specks as they set out towards the open field at the mountain's base. The trees pranced away as if the team of men was contagious. The vegetation's movements more like a dance, which seemed to entrance the doctor and the others as they watched from above.

  The vegetation’s dance-like movement and the sky’s spectrum made it seem as if they were on a different planet altogether. The doctor turned to see Malica's eyes glued to the scene below. Her eyes were locked onto the landscape as if expecting the forest to suddenly become as still as she remembered it, more to see the team safely return than for her own need to find some normalcy in this new world. "You know those birds-bats I've been analyzing?" Dr. Spencer said, trying to break her trance.

  “Yes.” She turned to him.

  He looked into her eyes, hoping he’d never get lost in them. “What we thought were feathers were, in truth, branching hairs, like tree branches, but much finer,” Dr. Spencer said.

  “How interesting, do you think they are related to the moving vegetation?”

  That’s what I’m working on, understanding this may help me heal Corporal Stevens. Want to tag along?” Dr. Spencer said, hoping she’d accept, although he hoped it wouldn’t bore her. In any case, it would distract both of them for a while, until they heard something from the expedition.

  “Sounds great,” Malica replied.

  Ben turned to them. "Gonzales said he'd bring another team as a backup. I'll keep you guys informed."

  “How did he find out?” Malica asked.

  Ben stared at the couple, knowing that they still mistrusted him. "I thought it would be prudent to have an alternate plan."

  "I'm glad you did," the doctor said, surprised Ben had told them before he used Gonzales's team. Plus he had included Gonzales in his plans, and the doctor trusted the sergeant. Perhaps there is still hope for him, he thought.

  Chapter 28

  Undone

  Manta, Ecuador, Rosa Mountains

  May 13, 4067

  “The CAMO makeup is not working on the vegetation. They’re running as if we had chlamydia,” Stan said, looking down at his arm to check the patterns he’d drawn on it.

  “Let’s hope they work on predators,” Efrem said.

  “That’s a hell-yeah, sir.”

  “Not sir, Only Efrem, Miller.”

  “This is a new order, Efrem. We need to start thinkn’ of starting an army, I mean, you never know. Imagine some fucker wants to force his views on us—then what?” Miller said, switching his Z-9 from cradle to shoulder.

  “I know what you mean, but we already have the semblance of a military arrangement. Lt. Pierce is our commander. Manas is in charge of security. As for me? I'm retired if you wanna call it that. In any case, the only true enemy I foresee in the near future is this aggressive world we’ve inherited. I can help the people feel safe, but something tells me that if any monsters want to come up that hill in force, there’ll be little we can do to stop the massacre,” Efrem said, spitting a clump of tobacco slime at a trailing grass.

  “You gettin’ along with the egg-eyed Manas giant? Dude rubs me wrong,” Miller said.

  “We have our days. His nose is darker than the shit I left in the commode this morning, though,” Efrem said. His bright eyes taking in the scene unfolding around them.

  "And stinky, too," Stan said, hissing at his joke hardily.

  “Manas is a puppet, but he has organized security well. I’m more concerned about our survival in the present. Not saying you’re wrong. We will eventually need a more rugged military force. There were plenty of assholes in the past who wanted it all. I think we’re bound to find one among us in the future—if we have a future,” Efrem said.

  I hate to agree, but I figured as much. I’d rather go out fighting if we faced a coup. As for the monsters, Stan and I have been sleeping in our mesh. It’s uncomfortable as hell, but it keeps the cot bugs and salamanders away.” Miller gave a noticeable shiver as he remembered how the salamander’s reproduced. “We have movement on thermals,” he said, lowering his tall frame.

  “Where?” Efrem’s Z-9 came up with a snap.

  “Things seem to be in those trees. Plants and trees show up much cooler on thermals. Hell, vegetables aren’t supposed to show up at all. These emit heat,” Miller hesitated and then used the peace sign to direct their eyes to the nearest canopy.

  I see them. Monkeys, I think. Gray-green, like the branches they trapezed under. They move like the tree limbs,” Efrem said.

  “Those things are eatin’ the leaves off the tree, and it doesn’t seem to realize it,” Miller observed.

  The three men had instinctively taken a knee.

  “Record everything. If we don’t make it, at least the next team will have a better shot at it,” Efrem said.

  "I know we're here to save humanity and all, but we came for some meat, too, right?" Stan voiced as if his spit-fire roasted pork dream were evaporating.

  Both men stared at the ex-Delta Force man.

  “What! I’m tired of fake shit that tastes like sawdust and eon-old boiled leather, that’s all!” Stan looked away, with a hint of guilt.

  “Is it their camouflage or their movement?” Efrem said, ignoring Stan.

  “Maybe a combination,” Miller said.

  “Let’s shoot one for the Doc,” Stan said faster than he had intended.

  Once again, both men glared at him in disbelief.

  “What? I don’t want monkey meat.” Stan’s face washed over with shame once more.

  “Stan, my friend, you’re a discredit to your unit, man. Get it together. We’re here on recon. If we have a chance to capture live critters, then we will,” Miller said.

  “Roger that,” Efrem said, shooting Stan a glare that could freeze stones.

  “Okay, recon and shut up. I got it. Shit!" Stan said, coming up and moving aside to let Efrem take point.

  They moved further away from the safety of the mountain, preparing themselves for an assault, but nothing came at them despite passing the place where the last team had come across the lynx-like felines. No signs remained from that skirmish; it was as if the land had swallowed the dead animals, bones and all.

  Efrem felt the dread that only came to him when something was amiss. This time it felt much stronger as if something tugged at his nerve endings. He spun just to see the vegetation closing the path behind them. Are we trapped, he thought. “Halt,” he whispered, holding up a clenched fist.

  The others stopped and turned to see the vegetation wall, their weapons sweeping their perimeter for danger. Only the mountain’s tip peeked over the tree line.

  “Damn, are we trapped?” Miller said, unable to determine how his Z-9 would fare against moving trees with roots like corded cable.

  “One way to find out. Stan, retrace our steps,” Efrem said.

  “Why me?” he said, his tiny eyes widening.

  “’Cause you need the workout, soldier," Miller replied.

  “I told you, it’s in the glands. Plus, I’m big boned!” Stan shifted his glare from Miller to Efrem, but his steely eyes did not waver.

  “Okay! Shit!” He turned around. His Z-9 came up tucked neatly against his shoulder. Stan moved slowly at first, and then he began moving faster and much more graceful than his short, stout body would appear to. The trees started slinking away before he was thirty feet from them, their octopus-like movement making the branches sway like a million arms. The constant noise of their movement reminded Stan of the sea crashing against the shore. He looked over his shoulder. “We’re good!” he said, holding up a thumb and giving them a toothy grin.

  When Stan had been a kid—a plump child—he liked to jump waves along the vast, green Atlantic Ocean. Once he'd got caught in a riptide, but before he could despair, large hands hauled him from danger, as if he were as light as air. This felt the same, but for the pain. He failed to recall that, plus this time he plummeted to his death. The
wind punched away from his lungs, leaving him speechless. As if in a dream, the trees grew smaller as if he were flying. His mouth was agape, trying to recover what his lungs craved. The trees shrunk even further, and the panorama widened. He heard a scream so loud it shook his skull. He felt as if someone had dropped him in a human-size, unyielding vise that crushed him to death. Pain ripped through him. He barely had time to sense despair, before darkness enveloped him.

  “Fire!” Efrem ordered.

  The two men’s eyes barely perceived what happened. A green shadow ripped free from the tree line beside Stan. Stan half disappeared, seeming to shoot, like a bullet into the air, then the bright, verdant vanished behind the canopy.

  Efrem felt the pang of despair. He felt helpless. The, No Man Left Behind model seemed to be whispered into his mind by no other than Stan.

  “It’s too fast. I didn’t have-a-shot,” Miller growled between clenched teeth.

  Efrem sensed movement to his left. He whirled, dropping into a prone position and squeezed the trigger. The rounds ripped into a hideous alligator-like reptile’s hide. He felt a rush of air over his head and heard a loud thump accompanied by Miller’s grunt. The lizard’s tail had slammed into Miller, sending him airborne. Efrem sprayed the creature with more rounds. They looked like little bee-bee holes along the creature's gigantic hide. He leaped aside, and the tail pounded the ground where he'd lain. The creature hissed. Efrem moved erratically not granting the monster a clear target while switching the Z-9 to grenade mode.

  He only had moments to scrutinize what he faced—a lizard-like alligator with a wipe-like tail and a maw lined with three-inch fangs. How could this thing move about with impunity, while we’re left to rot in caves like Neanderthals?

  The creature took two more swings at Efrem with its tail, but they were weaker and ill-timed. It moaned as if waking from a long nap and Efrem wasted no time in plugging its mouth with a grenade. He turned to take cover, but something hit him, slamming him into the ground. He whirled on his back, dazed, reaching for his weapon, only to see the reptile’s head replaced by a smoldering neck. One of the creature's eyeballs had nearly broken his back; it lay near him, spilling white cream from the orb.

  Efrem shook off his daze, his ears ringing painfully. “Miller!" he called out and found the man laying fifteen-yards from where the attack had taken place. He knelt before Miller’s limp form. Efrem peered around uneasy, taking note of the trees moving toward them. “Miller,” he said in a loud whisper, between clamped teeth. His pulse felt weak, and his breath was shallow.

  The vegetation closed in. There was no time to see if basecamp still tracked his team. The shuddering crocodile-lizard lay wrapped in a frenzied root mass. Eels launched at its flanks and abdomen. A storm rose from the trees as they joined in on the feast.

  Efrem thrust off the heavy pack that had probably saved his life and removed Miller’s backpack. He hefted Miller on to his own back, hoping that carrying him in this manner wouldn't cause him further harm. He secured Miller's arms with one arm and with his other hand he retrieved his .357. Surprisingly, the man’s weight felt insignificant. He hustled for the distant mountain. Shrubs with whip-like branches slashed at him. The mail deflected them, save one that latched across his cheek, the barbs digging in. He tightened his jaw and swatted the thing aside with his weapon, ignoring the searing pain when the sharp barbs tore away, snapping his head free. He shot away at a steady pace.

  Two massive oaks tried to cut him off as if directed by some unseen hand. He locked his jaw so tight he felt his teeth grit. He pushed back the pain and anguish, Ranger training kicking in. He changed direction, heading towards a thick shrub line. The shrubs awaited his barreling form. Efrem aimed at the nearest tree’s trunk and fired. Bark spit from the thick base and they parted ever so slightly as if they had shared the pain.

  Efrem saw more trees trying to outflank him, so he widened his stride, only glancing at the sky for any more flying surprises. Despite Miller’s weight, the panic in Efrem’s heart forced his legs to flutter faster than he'd ever been able to as a running back during his peak years playing football. He felt a rush of adrenalin level his concentration. If something came at him, it didn't matter. Something strange draped over him, a feeling of power like none he'd ever felt. The aggressive vegetation fell away in the distance.

  He dropped his gaze for a moment, and he could barely see his legs moving. How am I doing this?” he thought.

  Chapter 29

  Debacle

  Manta, Ecuador, Rosa Mountains

  May 13, 4067

  “Is this what attacked Stan?” Mirra held up a sketch of a green vulture-like creature.

  Efrem shook his head. “It was moving too fast.” Sweat permeated his face. His eyes went back to what the doctor was doing to him.

  She held up two more sketches that were nearly identical. The reptile had a long, sharp tail. “Did this one attack Miller and you?

  He took one from her. “Yes. But I didn’t give that good of a description. Plus, I just got here. How did you draw those so fast?”

  "We dreamt about these creatures three days ago, but we didn't understand what they were attacking, the dream itself too fast and short. I'm sorry."

  “You think the dream was fast and short. Shit!" Efrem said wide-eyed as he felt the bandage on his cheek. “The green one that took Stan was like a green blur to our eyes.”

  “We need to get all the Dreamers together and find a way to puzzle the pieces of each person’s dream. Perhaps then we can prepare for what’s coming,” Ben said, waiting for Malica or the doctor to say something. Ben could sense the anger the doctor and Malica radiated. After partially seeing what had transpired to the three men, the doctor and Malica had openly held him responsible. Stan was likely dead and Miller had broken his back and was still in surgery. Efrem sustained two broken ribs and a collapsed lung. According to Dr. Spencer, nothing could explain how he ran so fast, especially caring one hundred and seventy pounds on his back.

  “Sounds like a good idea. Perhaps we should’ve considered it before these three men were nearly kill—?" Dr. Spencer shot back but stopped when Efrem grunted.

  Efrem smiled closed-mouthed. “That stung, Doc.”

  “Sorry. Malica, can you help Ben gather the dreamers while I repair Efrem’s ribs.

  “Of course, I believe gathering the prophets should be our next course of action, and we shouldn’t send anyone else out there until we have better protection for them. No one else, Ben,” she said glowering at him.

  He nodded reluctantly, trying to bite back his anger. “Can we refrain from calling them prophets?”

  “Do you want me to cite the definition of a prophet?” Malica said.

  "It won't be necessary, but…" Ben shook his head and licked his dry lips. "Do you want to start this new world with mysticisms? Before you know it, we will start hanging witches and chasing demons," Ben said.

  “I see your point, but look at what has happened. This is a world of magic already. You’re even gathering people who can see the future. We are already magicians. The doctor is growing bone right before our eyes. We have the entire human library on a chip the size of my hand.” She snapped her hand closed in front of Ben’s eyes, making him blink. “Let’s worry about getting out of here. Is that acceptable?” Malica said moving around Ben.

  “I agree,” Dr. Spencer said.

  “I’m in agreement,” Efrem offered, despite not being a Council member.

  Ben ignored them. “Efrem, do you think you can give us some insight during the delegation meeting tomorrow?”

  Efrem eyed the doctor under thick, close-knitted eyebrows and turned to Ben. "Sure can.”

  “We're beginning to see a pattern now, as ghastly as it may seem. We have enough information to mount an offensive if only to fight fire with fire," Ben said and started to leave.

  “Ben.” He turned to Mathew, who had been silently studying images on a pad. “May I join Efrem tomorrow? I have some
ideas.”

  “At this point, we’re open to any and all suggestions, especially from anyone who has witnessed the fierceness of the land firsthand. I’ll be expecting you at the meeting, Efrem.”

  Efrem watched Ben and Mathew leave. “Seems like there’s a lot of friction when you three get together?”

  “Yes indeed, but I like my odds. Were there two of Ben, I fear we would have an all-out war.” The doctor smiled, but deep inside he wondered if there was another Ben character among the people, ready to make his or her move.

  “I wanted to speak with you about something doctor, in private. I didn’t want to say this while Ben was here because I’ve seen that you and the pretty lady have our best interest at heart, and Ben seems ready to compromise his conscience whenever it suits him.”

  The doctor turned to Malica. “That didn’t take long.”

  She shook her head. “Too bad not everyone is as insightful as Efrem.”

  “How true. What’s on your mind, Efrem?" The doctor tilted his head to meet Efrem’s eyes.

  Efrem eyed Malica.

  Malica placed her hand on Dr. Spencer’s shoulder. “I have a few appointments today. See you later.”

  Efrem waited until the doors closed behind Malica, then he swallowed and bit back his lips as if debating whether to speak at all. "Something happened to me out there and, I’m not referring to the attack. I wasn’t running. I was flying on my legs, it was as if they were possessed,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I know how it sounds, but my legs were moving so fast they were a blur to my eyes.”

  "I see… I believe you. Actually, you've answer something which has been nagging at me since you returned. Your group covered more ground than the previous one—over two miles. According to the telemetry readout on your AI, you were back within four minutes, hauling Miller on your back. Malica and I had just stepped away when the sentries sounded the alarm, which is why we even met you at the mountain’s entrance. I was perplexed when I saw the readings. I was going to wait until you felt better before addressing it. So far, no one else has even noticed.”