Reanimated_Terminal Misery Page 2

  Only a few days ago, he worried about his comrades as they descended into a storm-covered Kennedy center. All other landing sites were as compromised by the weather. He’d felt so relieved when NASA confirmed their successful landing. Now, Florida faced another hurricane—this one, a category five from the onset, with the highest wind speeds he had ever heard of. Sam hovered over Florida once every ninety minutes, and he couldn’t discern the hurricane due to the thick cloud cover which prevailed throughout the globe as if Earth had grown a cell membrane.

  “Gina, what do food rations look like?”

  “Five weeks remaining, Captain.”

  Sam sighed. His eyes felt heavy with dread and lack of sleep. “Gina, I’m afraid this planetary disturbance is in for the long haul. How can I understand what’s going on down there?”

  “Please specify?”

  "Extrapolate from all astronomical events: historical weather anomalies, scientific hypothesis, weather postulations, or any recent events in the media which points to a probable global catastrophe."

  “Yes, Captain. It will take a few moments.”

  Sam slipped a mineral pill into his mouth, swallowing it dry. He switched ports, this time staring at the hulking, dormant space station. It hung in space like the skeletal remains of a dead, metal monster. The sight saddened him. He turned to the moon—its brilliant light stifled off by the tinted glass. The moon sat in space watching its once blue companion's sickened state, unmoved.

  He drifted to his workstation and let his mind wander as he stared at images of his family. He had uploaded as many as he could from his AID; they alone kept him company. Gina’s advanced programming helped a great deal. She was very sympathetic to his plight, or as sympathetic as a machine could be.

  A few minutes later Gina’s eyes came alive again. “Captain, I have some interesting facts.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “Captain, results from 526 BCE, which commenced with the Antioch earthquake, indicates no pattern up until the China Cross earthquake at Tangshan in 2049. Both these disasters left a quarter million people dead. However, this is interesting, sir. The India-Calcutta 2052 cyclone lead the way to an unusually large natural disaster spike, which has not abated and, in fact, it has grown exponentially in recent months.”

  “Is there any historical precedence?”

  “Yes, deep water temperatures have dropped notably following Calcutta. Oceanic circulation has also diverted to unseen patterns since the previous ice ages.”

  “…There’s been more than one ice age?”

  “Yes, but one supersedes them all. The conditions during those extreme climate events are similar to those present from 2052 to 2065.”

  Sam stiffened as if he had lost control of his body. "Gina, can you repeat that."

  “Would you like me to start at the begging?”

  “No. I mean, are you saying Earth is undergoing a climate change?”

  "It appears that way, Captain. Nonetheless, I must clarify; further input and human intervention will be required to achieve a definitive response."

  "I know we've been experiencing some irregular winters, and I've heard about disasters, but I thought it was just a trend."

  “It is, Captain, a trend signaling a climatic upheaval.”

  He glided back to the Earth viewport and stared dumbfounded at the sheathed planet below. “Oh my God.”

  “I am so sorry,” Gina said, her 3-D eyes softening.

  “Not as sorry as I am, Gina, because I chose to come here, even when Angela protested.”

  “Captain, then you would have to deal with this unprecedented climatic event.”

  His eyes remained transfixed on his hands for a moment. He finally said, “I know. I don’t expect you to understand, but at least I would be with my family.”

  Chapter 4

  Parting

  Santa Cruz, California

  August 5, 2065

  “Jerra, come back with me to the party—it’s getting colder out here.”

  "Leave me alone. Go back to your skinny tramp. One day, your sorry ass will see what a good thing you had, but it will be too late—too late and never again, Roberto. Never again!” Jerra tossed her long, dark hair away from her face, but the persistent Pacific winds shoved each strand back.

  "I thought we agreed we were open to new…options," Roberto said, glancing at the darkening skies. He saw no other soul along the windy pier.

  “Here’s an option,” she said, displaying both fingers. “Go screw yourself.”

  He flinched at her unusual behavior. “C’mon that’s not fair. I always treated you like a queen,” he said open palmed.

  "What am I now, the house wench? You know—you came to UCS, but college can't make you what you will never be—smart. You will always be a low ‘barrio’ fool. I’m better off without you. You hold me back. I’m going places, so leave me the hell alone from now on!” She spun and walked away, her tight-jean skirt making her take fast-short steps.

  “Look at the sky. It’s getting ugly out here!” he said, struggling to be heard over the blustering wind. Roberto hesitated, then followed her, examining the sky closer this time.

  Angered clouds clashed against one another, cracking the afternoon with staggered booms. Lighting sizzled across the sky in the distance, and the wind had taken up a challenging bellow in his ears, but he still tried to catch-up with her.

  A loud crash boomed beside him. He pulled back in mid-step, making him stumble before the Fire Fish Grill’s entrance. A pelican had careened into the Fire Fish’s menu glass-box. Roberto came to his feet startled. His mouth gaped at the twitching bird. The wind’s intensity seemed determined to keep him away from Jerra. He couldn’t see her anymore because the fitful sea spat its spittle across the pier. The entire Santa Cruz Wharf pier was blanketed in the seas aerosol as if Poseidon stirred the sea in his wrath. “Jerra! Je—”

  A crisp bolt of lightning sizzled over his head. It crackled, then exploded.

  He staggered at the sound.

  Another bolt ripped overhead, striking somewhere close.

  He peered back up the bridge—his eyes becoming angry. “Have it your way, stupid bitch,” he yelled into his cupped hands, then wished he could take it back, even if she hadn’t heard. He whirled back to shore and ran, covering his eyes with his forearm, as the chilled rain began pummeling the pier. By the time he reached the clubhouse the icy rain had drenched his hair and shirt. He turned around one last time, only to see a curtain of white-blurry rain sweeping across his line of sight and made up his mind to turn around, feeling shame wash over him but remembering the girl he’d invited to the club somehow eased his regret.

  *************************************

  “Stupid Chicano! No. I’m the stupid one.” She wiped her wet eyes with her palms.

  A thunder-clap made her flinch, and she headed for the Dolphin Restaurant. The rain came, forming a thick curtain around the dock. She tried the main door, but the knob failed to turn, the inside dark, still. In her grief, she'd didn't to notice her sole presence throughout the pier. She had a clownfish tattoo under her right ear, and she tapped it twice with her cold, damp finger. Her AID gave her the time, date, and weather, along with a detailed weather alert. She stopped trembling when she heard the foreboding forecast.

  Alerted to her dilemma, she hid behind the quest service box. A green-cloth awning which shielded her from the battering rain beat frantically. The thick blanket of rain created a whiteout condition.

  She tapped her AID again, hoping to call her brother.

  "Signal lost. Weather conditions are interfering with the signal, Jerra. Please move to another location.”

  She tried again, noticing through her bionic eye how the bars on her phone had dropped from ten to zero. “Shit!”

  To her surprise, the rain stopped as abruptly as it had started. She wondered if Roberto had followed her this far into the Wharf, but she doubted it. That's how love works. First, you're his ‘Ch
ula’—his girl—and then you’re nothing. ‘Pendejo’! She thought, her rage distracting her from the deplorable weather conditions still brewing around her.

  The waves peaked and came at odd angles, each wave pounding the other like ancient gladiators. Then, as if spent, the lighting moved away with the storm clouds.

  Jerra proceeded back to shore along the slippery, wet planks. She wondered why the stores were closed, was it possibly due to the weather. She retrieved her wrist computer, but the connection icon remained inactive.

  She heard a whip-like crack in the air, followed by piercing whistle-like sounds. Her hands flew to her ears. The pier commenced vibrating under her, so she reached for the pier’s rail for support. Just as she wrapped her hand around the rail, the bridge began bouncing like a rope bridge.

  “Oh God, no…no!” she cried out, wishing her words meant something. She could see the entire bridge wriggle before her like a snake. Her mind raced, keeping pace with her fluttering heart.

  She heard the world around her explode. ‘Ay, Dios mio’! It’s the end of the world, she thought frantically.

  Niagara Falls flashed across her eyes, just before she tumbled five feet onto the mischievous bridge. Her head thumped on a wet board, sending a blaze of pain across her skull. She came down so hard she began seeing double. Tears made her vision dance with images.

  She'd seen the wondrous Niagara Falls last year during spring break and was unsure why her mind saw the picture so vividly now.

  Pain shot across her arms and knees. The bridge pummeled her over and over again, bouncing her up and down as if she were on a trampoline. She struggled to keep conscious.

  The deafening noise rose to a crescendo, then everything went still, except for the thunderous sound of rushing water that brought back the image of Niagara Falls in her mind.

  She crawled onto the shaky rail. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to clear her mind. She saw the Mirage again—Niagara Falls. She leaned on the bridge for support, trying to make her eyes work until she realized—horror-stricken—that Santa Cruz had disappeared under the furious sea, leaving a Niagara Falls landscape.

  Jerra gasped, “No! Oh, God, no...” She moaned and swooned atop the mangled pier.

  Chapter 5

  Deadline

  Manta, Ecuador, Rosa Mountains

  August 5, 2065

  3-D screens covered a ten-foot wall displaying an abundance of talking heads speaking in multiple languages. In one, Arnold Calderon, the United Nations president, read prompts advising citizens to remain calm. “Practice wisdom in your daily activities and pay close attention to emergency alerts,” he was saying stoically, but the People in the room could only read the caption.

  Whispering spread across the room. Across the room. The high ceiling and numerous conduits overhead drowning their words.

  "I would prefer to leave the monitors on, folks, because I know they're preset to your individual preferences but judging by the readings I'm receiving, I think it's time. Maria, can you start off, please," David said, hardening his gaze on those

  present.

  "Greenland had a 6.6—lasted five minutes. Hay Dios mio,” she said covering her mouth. “Casualty numbers are coming in.”

  "Los Angeles, a 7.6—four minutes, the city is in shambles," A heavy-set bald man in a white technician coat said. His face paled as he examined the images.

  A middle-aged woman called out another location, rate, and duration. The numbers climbed. The durations began extending. Everyone became solemn; they shook their heads in disbelief and frustration.

  Sweat made David adjust the bifocals on his damp nose. He rose from his chair abruptly. “Okay everyone, I know this is tough, but let’s keep our composure,” he said, waving his palms erratically. His bifocals left lens was displaying the city of his birth smothered under clouds of smoke.

  One by one, the screens on the wall began shutting down, replaced by grim, gray rain.

  They had mentally prepared for this moment, but when realization set in, the room fell into a shocked silence, each person wishing they would wake up at any moment, each person traveling back in time wondering how it came to this as if everyone had shared a telepathic moment.

  “Australia, Sydney, 8.6. The city is in ruins… Lasted eight minutes." The African-American man lowered his head, wishing those final images would creep from his mind.

  The room went silent.

  The most graphic, live feed came from MSNBA and G-FOX-News.

  "Oh!" a sandy-haired woman whimpered, unable to cover her mouth in time. Her hands shook.

  “Martha, what is it?” David inquired tersely.

  She paused to steady her voice, but a whimper escaped her lips nonetheless. "9.8 ground fault sixty miles off the US eastern seaboard. A three hundred foot title wave,” she sniffed, her voice unsteady, “has hit metropolitan cities. The wave moved thirty miles inland. The waters are freezing over. Evacuation routes were cluttered.” A single tear rolled down her pallid face.

  "Lincoln Barnes, an Australian mathematician, spoke from his perch, wiping his eyes. I've run the numbers, mates. There is no turning back. The instability will shift the core." He drooped so much that he seemed to have a hump on his back.

  A silent shock reigned throughout the room.

  “I think we’ve seen enough. I vote to proceed to the evacuation level. The Cryogenic Emergency Evacuation Plan—CEEP—is our only hope. I know everyone wanted to wait until the last possible moment, but if this level is compromised, I fear the elevators will shut down, and it’s a long way down to the cryogenic bed area, folks.” He gauged the look in everyone's eyes—spooked, searching, knowing—eyes destined to sacrifice for the greater good. "I tried to contact our people in Washington, but all communications are down. Therefore, CEEP is ours to activate," David said, pushing his bifocals back, his hands betraying his steady tone.

  “I second the vote,” Ben Greer said. He was a tall man with a pronounced chin and sad grey eyes.

  “Thank you, Ben. All in favor? Mathew, take a count.” David waited until Mathew had finished counting. “Those against?”

  David didn’t have to wait. “It is unanimous,” Mathew said.

  "I know I don't have to ask, but I will. No matter what God you serve, please pray for everyone and the mission's success," Ben said, despite being agnostic.

  “Okay folks, you know what to do,” David said looking down at his computer’s light keys. He entered a command to shut down all the terminals. The screens changed to a cheerful blue.

  ************************************

  The cacophony of voices sounded like a rainstorm as they echoed off the domed cavern. The cavern was chosen because its walls were laden with iron deposits. The scientists had no idea how the cavern would react to future earthquakes, but studies revealed that the human-made caves had survived many earthquakes since Manta Ecuador lay on a fault much like the one that crossed California.

  "Are we a-go?" David asked Ben.

  “Efrem,” David called out, and a tall, wide-framed, hard-muscled and stone-faced man turned toward him. “Are all the units ready?”

  "Yes sir," Efrem confirmed, nodding.

  Ben surveyed screens set in a half moon configuration. “I placed the counter at maximum—two hundred years. As soon as every unit is closed, the countdown commences. Once the system initiates, we’ll be asleep for two centuries—unless a toaster decides to glitch, and you know what happens then.”

  David cringed. “I’d prefer you use their technical name. We’ve tested them quite well.”

  “Yes, but only for a few weeks. We’re comparing a nap to a full night sleep here.”

  "What alternative do we have?" David said his tone tremulous. At the time, despite all his trepidation in taking the position, he knew there would be a leadership body to guide the colony once they awoke, never had he considered that it would be up to him. Doubt permeated his mind as if his brain had produced a well of fear—fear based solely on his q
ualifications to lead a remnant human race in a future as stark and ominous as humanity had ever imagined. If humanities weapons, power plants, and biological experiments were left unattended for an unknown period, disaster would result in an amalgamation of nameless proportions. Radioactive organisms would thrive or, on the other hand, they would awaken to a barren rock. A calamity was inevitable.

  Ben noticed the bleak shadows in David’s eyes. “I know, I know. I guess I’m just trying to scare myself out of it. That’s all.” Ben tried to smile.

  “I took a final glance at the most recent feeds, setting aside how cities are being wiped out by earthquakes. Temperatures are dropping fast, especially in coastal regions. Even if you scared yourself out of it…where would you go?” David said.

  Ben lowered his eyes. "I know, but two centuries sounds like a long distance in time.

  “We have to hope some will make it. I know this is going to sound callous, but all we need is one fertile couple. We are men bound by science, and you know it’s all about the numbers,”

  “Hurts less to see it that way, I guess?” Ben pursed his lips and shook his head.

  David managed a tight smile. "I'll see you on the other side…Godspeed."

  Ben frowned slightly. “Thanks.”

  Technicians and security personnel like Efrem helped each passenger with their unit. They loaded small boxes around the units—personal belongings, such as memorabilia, clothing, footwear, preserved food, and devices to help them face the none-technological future they would confront upon awakening.

  Ben Greer surveyed the vast chamber. Conversation dwindled as each unit was closed and secured. A cloud of steam hung over the sealed units. He ran his hands through his greasy hair, wishing he'd had time for a final shower. The fasting required before entering the slow slumber gnawed at his stomach. His eye tingled, and he rubbed at it, knowing it was a sign of stress.