Reanimated_Terminal Misery Read online

  “I have another theory, but it involves mutations,” Mirra said, her gaze shifting from Sammis to the doctor.

  “Go on,” Dr. Spencer said, leaning back as he massaged his tense neck muscles.

  “All the simulations we ran on Old Earth indicated that major land mass movement would occur. Such an event could have destroyed many nuclear devices and toxic waste sites around the world. A contamination of that magnitude could last thousands upon thousands of years. Antimatter producing plants could’ve canceled out large land portions that could’ve aided in compromising nuclear bunkers. We were too dependent on nuclear weapons and nuclear plants. I can’t imagine how the land behaved following the freeze over. We have all seen what happens following an antimatter explosion. Sure, the planet’s surface remained petrified, but underground, dwellers were exposed to massive amounts of radiation," Mirra said, examining their faces.

  "Yes, but we've run a wide range of scans and radiation levels are nominal," Sammis said, leaning forward.

  "True, but the radiation sites are probably staggered, or it could have dissipated in time, but not before exposing ground and aquatic life. At this point, it’s all I have,” Mirra said shrugging.

  “It’s more than I have.” Sammis nodded.

  “Let’s hope this phenomenon hasn’t reached the surface,” Dr. Spencer said.

  Sammis looked at him gravely. “If so, we may be facing creatures we may not know how to deal with.”

  “Not to mention pathogens, “Mirra added.

  “Let’s keep these speculations to ourselves. I'm afraid we're going to find more than a wasteland up there, so I've begun a series of bacterial and viral tests. We need to create vaccines using the life forms we have come across to fortify our metabolism. I have the Periplaneta vaccine ready, but I'll need to make more."

  "The Periplaneta vaccine is too potent. Are you sure we can resist it in our condition?” Mirra said.

  “If it comes down to an all-out plaque, I think we’ll have little choice. Roaches are our mentors when it comes to resistance,” the doctor added.

  "I agree, but the reaction to the vaccine has left quite a few people crippled, and there is the small matter of mutations. The drug was meant to extend life, and it was even postulated to give eternal life if used over and over. I read the paper and attended several conferences where Max Marker sold his ‘periplaneta' propaganda to seize a fat military contract," Mirra argued, her face haunted with concern.

  “Mirra,” Sammis said, turning to her, “we need to think out of the box. At this point anything is possible. I saw a science fiction movie once where people were sent millions of years into the future, and they found the sun smaller, the planet colder, and the people lesser in every aspect. The people were as small as Pygmies. To those people, the humans from the past were giant aliens come to destroy them.” Sammis saw Mirra’s unyielding expression, so he added, “I realize it’s a fiction screenplay, but didn’t our antimatter energy plants, which started to rise in the early 2050’s, come from a Flash Gordon comic strip created in 1934 along with lasers and smartphones?”

  “Plus,” Dr. Spencer said, “this vaccine has saved more lives than it has risked. The results are irrefutable, and our situation is precarious. One unknown plague can kill every living human being left on earth,” he said, glancing off into space as if aware of something he’d missed earlier. “And sadly, there’s no backup agency out there willing to come to our rescue. We’re all there is. So we need to get creative.”

  Mirra lowered her gaze. “I see your point, Doctor.”

  Chapter 17

  Awe

  Manta, Ecuador, Rosa Mountains

  April 28, 4067

  “How are you faring up there, Sarge?” Lt. Pierce asked, his heavy panting joining with Sergeant Gonzales’ss.

  “I knew I should’ve listened to my Mamita. She always wanted to keep me away from sorry preservatives and packaged fast food. She called it pig food, and wanted me to eat plantains and yucca.” Gonzales gave a breathless laugh.

  “I don’t know about that. I could do with a Double Cheese Whopper right about now.” Lt. Pierce sniffed and drew a half breath. "You wanna go on? Our heart rate is reaching critical," the lieutenant said, examining his wrist display.

  “According to the scanner, we should be nearing the exit hatch. I think what your readings are showing is anticipation.” Gonzales tried to chuckle but coughed instead.

  “Hope your right. I left the defibrillator at the Robinson Crusoe,” Pierce heaved.

  Around them, the stone ceiling began to rise, and the tunnel seemed to yawn at their advance. Moss clung to crevices and drops of crystalline mineral water plopped noisily around them, and a thin mist hung above the rocky surface, making the scene ahead seem creepy.

  “You feel that?” Gonzales said, slowing down. He’d begun to place his hands upon his knees to support his upper body.

  “Yeah. Feels like…warmth.”

  “Let’s cut our lights. Maybe were nearly there, Gonzales said.” Instead of the blackout that vacuumed up their lights, they saw a muddy, gloom ahead.

  “My God, we’re almost there. You getting this, Crusoe?”

  “Affirmative,” Mathew said. “I’m informing the others right now.”

  “Mathew, we’re not sure what we’re going to encounter out there, so shut off audio and make sure the tent’s secure,” Lt. Pierce said, feeling how anticipation boosted his energy. His career had given him many challenges. Once his team had bombed a communist stronghold, but drone-intel failed to detect an underground troop hold. An entire enemy platoon chased his unit for hours. He thought pure exhaustion would kill him before the enemy did, but what he felt right now could only compare to heart failure.

  “Room’s secure, no audio,” Mathew said, then spoke again to prove there was no sound.

  “Look at those plants move…like little insects,” Gonzales said, following them with his lamp. “That’s a freak thing to see, right? I mean, plants don’t move.”

  “Some insects disguise themselves as plants, but those aren’t insects… They look like true plants.”

  “They’re funny looking. They look like green octopuses,” Gonzales said, coming to an abrupt stop when he took a closer look. The things slithered away from them, sensing danger. Their lights revealed that the things used noodle-like legs to cling to the rocks, not segmented legs. “Dios mío. Those are not legs, their—”

  “They’re roots,” Lt. Pierce finished for Gonzales, his voice quivering. “Switching to audio,” he said, retrieving the snoop-cam from Gonzales’s vest.

  "What is it, Lieutenant?" Dr. Spencer's face filled the screen. Mirra and Ben peered over his shoulder.

  “Doc, you are not going to believe this.” Lt. Pierce fumbled with the camera, regained control and zoomed in.

  “Are those plants walking? What in the world?” the doctor said, his eye sockets becoming pure circles.

  “That’s not possible,” Malica added.

  “They look like ferns,” Ben said.

  “I got some snapshots, Doc,” Lt. Pierce announced, handing the snoop-cam back to Gonzales. “Moving on.”

  A puzzled silence fell upon the trio. Only Mathew moved in the background, trying to peek over their heads.

  The water droplets became louder as more bleeding stalactites appeared overhead. The cavern opened, and everyone recognized the main entrance. The divine sun’s beams made everyone squint. As they ascended, movement around them increased as plantlets and vines scurried away from the intruders. To the lieutenant, it looked like a virtual program.

  Gonzales’s pace quickened in anticipation, making the video dance for the spectators. The natural bathing rays called to him, and he obeyed.

  “How the hell are they doing it?” Gonzales said out of breath.

  “Keep going, Gonzales. At least it’s warm up ahead, 25 degrees Celsius by my readings.”

  “Robinson Crusoe, we’re about to climb onto the platform. St
and by,” Gonzales said, hoping the lieutenant was matching his increased pace.

  Lt. Pierce moved on despite his fatigue. His lungs felt congested, and his legs felt weak and shaky, but pure adrenalin kept him going.

  At the top, both men remained transfixed. They could hear the trio speaking to them out of turn from the snoop-cam but what they were seeing left them stiff as stone statues. Only the mist that belched from their open mouths moved.

  “What are we looking at? Is that a green sea surrounding the entrance?” Ben called out.

  “No…” Lt Pierce found his tong. “Everything is moving.” His voice sounded like that of another man’s, horse and distant. He tried to focus on the site, but the constant shifting made him feel queasy.

  “The vegetation is moving. This is impossible, sir?” Gonzales turned to the lieutenant when the man didn’t respond, only to see that he’d collapsed.

  Chapter 18

  Unfathomable

  Manta, Ecuador, Rosa Mountains

  April 28, 4067

  “Sir, can you hear me?” Gonzales said, slowly tapping the lieutenant’s cheek. The man’s face had gone pasty, and his eyes fluttered as if he were having a slight seizure.

  Gonzales went to work, raising the lieutenant’s legs, unlatching his vest, and checking his vital signs on the soft computer wrapped around the lieutenant’s wrist.

  Lt. Pierce had a terrible nightmare. In it, blackbirds were plucking small chunks of meat from his arms and face. A fierce headache reminded him of a tale-gate binge. Then he recalled the mission. He made out Gonzales’ss face as it loomed over him, like some shimmering specter. Why is he hitting me? Did I pass out or did I oversleep? he thought. He felt as if his entire body were coated with lead.

  “Sir, I need you to drink from your pouch,” Gonzales said, inserting the thick straw into the lieutenant’s half-opened mouth.

  He drew in the vile, warm fluid, trying to remember something he shouldn’t have forgotten.

  “Sir, go slow, or you’ll choke,” Gonzales said, tilting the man’s head forward a bit.

  “What happened?” Lt. Pierce blurted.

  “If I tell you, will you pass out again?” Gonzales said, moving his finger side to side before the lieutenant’s eyes. He noticed the man’s eyes following his finger, his pupils focusing and refocusing. He brought Pierce to a sitting position. “The green sea.”

  “It wasn’t a nightmare. This makes sense,” Lt. Pierce said, taking in a deep breath.

  “Sense. What makes sense?” Ben nearly shouted from the cramped box.

  “It explains the salamanders, the eels, the vampire birds, and the moving ferns.”

  “It doesn’t explain the how. The how is very important.” Ben Greer sounded dismayed.

  “I’ll take this green ocean over a hundred mile block of ice any day. This is organic—I can deal with this—but an ice world? Hell no. I’m Puerto Rican,” Gonzales said, smirking into the small screen.

  “Let’s rest a bit before we start exploring,” Lt. Pierce said, sliding back onto his rock divan again, grunting and inhaling a fresh gulp of air. Particles danced around the warm breeze. Vines scattered around the cavern’s ceiling, staying away from the rocky walls.

  “Sounds good. I’ll sit and watch our backs. I’m not getting my ass sucked dry by any damn vampire bird,” Gonzales said, holding up his rod.

  "You know, we got bit by those bloodsuckers, and we never stopped to think they could've infected us with something," Lt. Pierce said.

  "Bloodsuckers. I think we'll call them that. The bites on my face itch and I feel tired and worn to hell, but I don't feel sick. You passed out. You tell me?"

  “No. I don’t feel sick. I think exhaustion, intertwined with the odd moving scene, made me sick. I left my outfit five years ago…” he paused. “Well, you know what I mean.” He shook his head annoyed. “I wasn't working out as I did during my service years, tied to a desk and living the 'family take it easy life,'" Lt. Pierce said.

  “Hey, you did your time, but let’s be frank, sir—a Ranger will whoop a regular ARMY dude any day in stamina, especially a retired regular ARMY guy, with all due respect, sir.”

  Pierce chuckled weakly. “No argument there, Sarge. Let’s see how much we can record from here.” Lt. Pierce dared to look up at the unbelievable scene before him, his eyes trying to settle onto the oceanic wonder. “How can this be Earth?”

  Chapter 19

  Encroachment

  Manta, Ecuador, Rosa Mountains

  April 28, 4067

  Following an extended rest, Gonzales peered at the misty sky, daydreaming about his home. He could almost see his mother and sister while visiting Puerto Rico. His mother always prepared his favorite dishes when he visited, especially the potato and codfish stew. "Mmm, I can almost pretend I'm home on my island, brother—palm trees, sandy beaches, great food, and my loving familia." Gonzales felt the muscles in his neck begin to cramp from the sheer exertion of keeping his head tilted. He felt spent, and he had experienced the most brutal challenges a man could endure during his service time. The climb should have been a straightforward workout. Instead, it had nearly broken him. Probably due to his two thousand year slumber.

  "Well, Sergeant, get off that island and come back to reality," Lt. Pierce said, pointing at where the brittle steps led into the ever-changing landscape.

  “Are you sure we wanna go down there? I mean, look at what a single salamander can do,” Sergeant Gonzales said with a haunted expression tightening his face, his eyes shifting from one moving plant to another. He instinctively wrapped his hand around his pistol’s grip.

  “Sergeant, we need to assess the terrain for danger. We’ll remain close to the rocky terrain in case we have to take cover." He groaned as he stood up, beginning to feel the soreness of the climb setting into his joints. The artificial steps were worn and covered in detritus. He felt the Sergeant not following and spun to see the man's broken expression. He looked flush. "Look, I know this preternatural place we've found is overwhelming, but we have a duty, Sarge."

  "I understand, I just have a bad feeling about...that out there, sir," he said pointing with his rod.

  "I get you," the lieutenant said, as he plodded up to Gonzales. He lowered himself to meet him at eye level. "I don't see where we have much choice. Maybe you're feeling seasick. I mean, this movement reminds me of the ocean. You look pale, too."

  "You may have a point there. I've experienced motion sickness before, and I do feel like barfing. This dark, hot, nasty concoction is making it worse." Sergeant Gonzales feigned a smile. He met Lt. Pierce’s gaze and forced in a gush of fresh air.

  “At least the liquid kept us going,”

  Gonzales came up slower than he would’ve wanted to. “Lead on, sir.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Lt. Pierce said as he fastened the straps on his vest.

  They set off at a mild, prudent pace. The usually talkative Puerto Rican sergeant became reticent. Lt. Pierce looked back a few times only to see the Sergeant aiming the snoop-cam at various angles, but his eyes were combing for danger over the small box. He had gone into full Ranger mode. His posture had become grouched, like a feline ready to strike.

  “Robinson Crusoe,” Lt. Pierce called.

  “We're receiving, Apollo," Mathew responded. "Malica said they sent a two-man team to back you up. Did you want to wait for them? They're about two hours from your position."

  “Negative. We’ll sidle the bottom of the mountain to stay safe from any more surprises. Sergeant Gonzales will give you as many landscape angles as possible.”

  "Roger that, Apollo. Oh yeah—the other team's back. Doc said Corporal Stevens should be fine, but he needs to run some tests," Mathew said.

  "Thanks. I'm still worried about the ki. I thought they'd drained him outright," Lt. Pierce said, standing in front of Gonzales, staring wearily at the screen. "Okay—it's show time."

  They came within thirty meters of the nearest tree.

 
; “Let’s hold here. Take a knee,” Lt. Pierce said, sliding to a side crouch.

  Sergeant Gonzales huddled, contemplating the marvelous, paradoxical site.

  The sun held lonely in its protective sky, unafraid of the monstrous land it nurtured with its life-providing rays. The nearest tree roots worked endlessly at tilling the dirt; it's fantastic looking tentacles seemed hard, yet pliable, like reptile skin. Its branches danced due to the endless toiling of its roots.

  "That's an oak tree, right?" Gonzales asked.

  "Yes. Looks like red oak," Lt. Pierce said.

  Gonzales’s eye widened behind the SWAR monocle he’d retrieved. “You gotta see this, sir,” he said, handing it down. “Look at the ground around the trees.”

  "The weeds are moving, all of them. It's as if we were on another planet," Lt. Pierce said, absorbing every movement in amazement. "It's miraculous."

  "How about if the aliens—the Wisanon…Bisonon, or whatever they called themselves—took us off-planet while we slept," Sergeant Gonzales said, his eyes scanning the sky as if expecting to see a cloaked ship among the few staggered, sickly clouds.

  "Let's not speculate too damn much, at this point, I'm apt to believe that pigs do fly," Lt. Pierce said, then added, "Let's move closer. Be ready to head for cover, though."

  “Roger that,” Gonzales replied, shoving the SWAR monocle into his vest.

  They inched ahead, sizing up the monstrous oaks. Little grasses played at their fellow vegetable's feet, like children in a sandbox.

  Lt. Pierce cradled a mixture of awe and horror. The paradox before him left his mind reeling with ideas, probabilities, and impossibilities.

  A shriek jarred them to a defensive posture.

  “Why didn’t we hear it before? There are birds in the trees,” Gonzales said, his eyes scanning the trees nearest to them.