Reanimated_Terminal Misery Read online

  Mathew held an intricate piece of equipment. “They found a natural spring,” he offered.

  “Great,” said Malica.

  "Yep, but the problem is getting the water to us. They came to me, and I'm working with a few engineers on creating an extraction pump," he smiled, revealing a double chin and a two-day shadow.

  "Is that contraption part of the project?" Malica asked.

  “Heavens no. This is a drone controller. We’re about to embark on our first aerial reconnaissance.”

  "Won't the large flying creatures destroy it?" Dr. Spencer said.

  “Possibly, but we need to see further out. I have a few drone backups and the means to make more if needed. Plus, I’m a heck of a pilot. I believe I can teach the flying reptiles a thing or two,” Mathew said, boyishly.

  “What distance can the drone cover,” Malica said, examining the control box?”

  "Six miles, give or take a few yards. Ben wants to map the terrain around us to start sending teams out."

  Malica’s teeth tightened. “Very good, Mathew. We’ll meet up with Ben to see what he’s up to.” She feigned a smile.

  Mathew saw the look on Malica’s face and his smile faded.

  They watched the excitable tech leave. Dr. Spencer and Malica exchanged glances.

  Chapter 22

  Mirra

  Manta, Ecuador, Rosa Mountains

  May 3, 4067

  “Stop,” Mirra demanded.

  “I’ll not let you make a fool of yourself,” Sammis said, holding her in a tight embrace.

  "I have to tell the someone. Doctor Spencer, Ben Greer, or anyone so perhaps they can prevent it," she said, trying to break his hold on her.

  “Prevent what? If you tell them that you had a vision, they will lock you up and never believe anything you say again,” Sammis said. Spinning her around and holding her writs tight, he added, “Hear me out, okay? Write it down—every single detail—then give it to Ben, Dr. Spencer, or Malica,” Sammis said, noticing her eyes losing their sense of urgency, he continued, “Then when they see it come to fruition, they will believe you.”

  Her eyes grew wide again. “People will die. Many people will die!”

  "They will not believe you, and then your work will be questioned, your sanity will be questioned, Mirra," he said, holding her firmly by the shoulders now. He noticed her eyes glazing over, her mind calculating the implications if they questioned her sanity.

  “There has to be a way.” She said, no longer making any efforts to leave.

  His arms surround her, and she fell into them. "I have an idea. I've heard that others are having dreams. Perhaps someone has had a similar dream. If we speak to them, then it won't be a matter of one crazy person." He peered down into her glassy eyes. "I mean, they'll recognize that the dreams have merit."

  “That’s a great idea. I’ll start right away. I know others who have dreamt.”

  “Don’t reveal your dream first. Just ask them for theirs, okay?”

  “I know. I suppose writing it down will help others believe, right?”

  “Exactly.” He nodded.

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

  “I’ve already told the Doctor and Malica,” Sally said with wet, copper eyes, her head bobbing as she spoke, making her unkempt hair bounce.

  “I’ve only heard bits, and I’m very interested in hearing the entire dream,” Mirra said, as she cupped one of the woman’s hands in hers, wearing a trusting smile.

  "Everyone looks at me funny now as if there were something wrong with me. The nightmares are real!" Sally said to Mirra with a yearning eyes.

  “I believe you. I’ve had one, too.” She forced herself to keep eye contact, hoping no one had heard.

  “That is great…I mean…I’m sorry. I don’t know why that makes me feel better.” She frowned.

  “Misery loves company.” Mirra smiled and cradled the woman’s hand.

  "I hope this means something. I've had the same dream for several days now. In it, two men want to explore out there. I feel like I know them, but I can't see their faces clear enough. They're armed, and around them, I hear music or birds—I still can't tell? Then I see the thing they're trying to catch. It looks like a wild pig as round as a pumpkin. Lightning and thunder speak to them. It sounds like an angry woman's voice, but the men don't notice. They're too busy relishing the fat swine. They intend to eat it. Then I see them eating the roasted pig. The men seem to grow, and I see them swimming in their blood. The blood is coming out of their mouths. Thunder makes me shudder in my nightmare, but I cannot awaken. The woman's words become louder as if spoken through the thunder. Everyone is sick. People are regurgitating and falling all around me. I'm bathing in a mire of vomit and blood. I'm drowning. The stuff rushes down my throat, and I finally wake up." Sally gave a slight jerk as if she'd experienced the nightmare once more.

  “Do you hear what the woman’s saying?” Mirra took her hand again to ease her discomfort.

  She frowned. “I hate to say them, but I can scarcely stop thinking those words.”

  “I didn’t hear what you told the others, but was it something like, Back down the hole, little demons, or I will smite you,” Mirra said, watching the woman grimace at the words.

  “I’ve only told my husband, Dr. Spencer, and Dr. Malica and they promised they’d keep it a secret. Did they reveal it to you?”

  “No. I heard it too,” Mirra responded holding up the envelope. She saw the woman’s tired, haggard face brighten. “I wrote those words here because, unlike you, I didn’t trust the dream yet.” She waved the envelope around like a banner.

  “What will the envelope accomplish?” Sally asked.

  Mirra could barely recognize her as her face brightened and her lips curled into a smile. “We have to gather the three Council members.”

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

  “You have our attention,” Dr. Spencer said, glancing at Malica. He tried to read Mirra and the other woman he’d only seen at a glance. He had taken her for a shy person.

  “Sally and I both had a life-like dream, and they are nearly identical,” Mirra said, then proceeded to relate the dream’s particulars. She decided it was best she tell it, rather than putt undue stress on Sally. She concluded the dream, adding that in her nightmare there was no lightning; but rather, the woman's voice came from a talking animal.

  The two councilors seemed baffled.

  “Do you believe this will happen?” the doctor asked Mirra incredulously.

  “Yes. These are not the dreams I had on Old Earth and, I doubt two people can have the same dream.”

  Dr. Spencer sighed. “I suppose—”

  Before he could finish someone said, “How about three identical dreams?”

  They turned to see Sammis followed by a tall, lanky man in his mid-forties.

  “Don here nearly had the same dream as Mirra and Sally. We have to admit—this is downright bizarre. Someone is trying to tell us something,” Sammis said.

  “Someone or something?” Dr. Spencer added, holding his fingers in a steeple under his chin.

  "At this point, your guess is as good as mine," Sammis said, nodding playfully at Mirra, who returned the gesture, her cheeks reddening.

  “Then we must heed this warning,” Malica said.

  “Yes, but, if they roasted the pig, how could there be an outbreak,” the doctor said, muffling a cough with his hand.

  "Undercooked meat perhaps, and since we are new to most bugs on New Earth, then we can be very susceptible to them," Malica said, looking something up on her computer.

  “Can any of you identify the men in the dream?” the doctor asked.

  The dreamers started consulting with each other.

  “One of the men had camouflage boots and a green hat,” Sally said.

  "I remembered the weapons since I am, or was a weapon aficionado. It looked like the SAR M-47." The seriousness of the situation was etched on Don's face, who seemed to be lacking
in sleep like the others.

  “One had a tattoo of a bird, and the other had a white earring,” Mirra said, her eyes lost, scrutinizing the dream in her mind.

  "Those will prove hard to find quickly," the doctor said, straightening in his chair and shaking his head. "Look, I know we've landed on an eerie Neverland, but now you want me to believe our people are having visions. I'm pretty much the last person you want to convince about magic and superpowers."

  “We're not trying to convince you of mysticisms. A technological device may be in use, and we're all in a hamster cage. The point is, we're being warned. For all we know, we're in an alien cosmic game and soon we'll be slaughtered, but we can't sit here and wait for the grim reaper, right?" Sammis said, looking from one face to the other.

  “I agree. None of this has been normal from day one, and we must allow our survival instincts to prevail,” Malica said.

  “Understood. As far as I’m aware, only military personnel or security would possess the weapon you mentioned,” the doctor said.

  “Right,” Malica said. “I will get Lt. Pierce to help us.”

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

  Six figures approached the two men who sat on folding chairs. The men eyed each other. The thin man put his cup down and covered it with a towel, as did the other man.

  “Stan, Miller, how’s it looking?”

  “Good, sir. Just enjoying our shift change,” Miller said, a tall, thin man with a roguish look.

  “How about you, Stan?” the lieutenant said.

  “Doing real good,” the round-faced man said. He had pinched, fleeting eyes.

  “By the smell of it, I imagine so. Make sure you sober up before you take your post,” the lieutenant said, towering over them.

  “Yes, sir,” Stan said.

  “Course, sir. Anyway, we gotta conserve our stash,” Miller said, glancing at Stan.

  "Now, I need to see four things from you, and we'll overlook the infraction. I need to see your camouflage gear, your weapons, the tattoo of a bird, and a white earring,” Lt. Pierce said, trying to put conviction into his words.

  The two men moved their eyes from person to person. Stan was so nervous that only his eyes shifted as if his neck were defective.

  “What’s this all about, sir?” Miller said, squinting an eye.

  "Show me the items, and I will explain," Lt. Pierce insisted.

  The two men frowned at each other. “Alright, I’m intrigued,” Miller said, signaling for Stan to follow.

  In a few moments, they returned. Miller laid down his Camo-Gear, as did Stan. Miller then raised his sleeve to reveal an eagle which covered half his forearm.

  Stan held out a bone colored hearing device. “This is all I got.”

  “That’s not an earring?” Dr. Spencer said.

  “Close enough,” Malica replied.

  “Have you men left the compound for a little visit to Mother Nature?” Lt. Pierce asked, examining the SAR M-47.

  “Why, is it prohibited to leave, sir?” Miller said, defiantly.

  “Answer the question,” the doctor ordered, louder than he had intended.

  “Don't get your panties in a wad, Doc. "We're all friendlies here. The answer is no, we haven't left the camp, but we're getting tired of this bag food, so we are planning on catching us some local forty-first-century game." Miller noticed how everyone locked eyes on him. He wasn't easily intimidated, but he still swallowed hard. "Do we have a reason for concern, sir?"

  “Until we understand the microorganisms of the forty-first century, gentlemen, you better stick to the bag food. You came damn close to causing an epidemic. A disease under these conditions, despite our advance medicine, could prove fatal to our fragile community,” Dr. Spencer said, his expression dour.

  "We didn't know, brother. Maybe you should make a camp-wide bulletin. Just-saying, sir." Miller glowered at the group.

  "We were trying to prove a point, Miller, that is exactly what we are going to do," Malica confirmed.

  Miller and Stan looked at each other perplexed.

  Lt. Pierce looked their weapons over. "You gentlemen had a weight limit, and you chose to bring boos and all this hunting gear?"

  “We didn’t know what to expect. For all we knew we’d wake up in a world full of zombies,” Stan said.

  “That’s right. And boos help us relax,” Miller said, placing the SAR in its bag and zipping it closed.

  “Carry on, men—and remember, easy on the booze,” Lt. Pierce said, signaling with his two fingers that he was watching them.

  Once they were beyond hearing range, the doctor said, "Now I'm nearly convinced." He was far from being convinced. There had to be a plausible explanation. There is no such thing as prophesying, he thought stubbornly, even though during his youth he believed in a higher power, but he never subscribed to the notion that the being interacted with humanity at all. At the time, he considered that God manufactured the universe and let matters take their course without his intervention.

  “I had my doubts, but we’ve seen it with our own eyes,” Malica said in a soft tone, her eyes staring straight ahead.

  “I think we should start recording all the dreams,” Dr. Spencer said to the trio.

  "I agree," Mirra said but noticed the young woman's expression. "Don't worry, Sally. You're not alone anymore."

  “At first I felt like a loony, and now I’m a—prophet. I don’t know how I feel about this.”

  Dr. Spencer felt sympathetic towards what Sally had gone through. “What are your duties, Sally?”

  "I'm a human relations specialist. My responsibilities have changed, though. Once the CEEP ended so did my work. At least, no one has given me further assignments."

  “Which means you need a job?”

  She looked up at him. “Yes, I do.”

  "Well, we need someone to help us organize the delegate meetings, official communiqués, document all proceedings, and come up with a way to communicate with everyone, so we're all on the same page. You up to the task?"

  Sally looked at Malica and Mirra.

  “We already wanted to ask you when we saw your credentials, so, say yes,” Malica said, smiling.

  “Yes, yes, thank you,” she said smiling.

  “Now that we’ve settled this, how do we keep folks from eating tainted food or killing indigenous animals?” the doctor said, his face contorting with puzzlement.

  Chapter 23

  Faith

  Manta, Ecuador, Rosa Mountains

  May 5, 4067

  Ten people besides Mirra sat around the doctor, each handing him a folded piece of paper. Dr. Spencer's face became enlivened as he read each one. He wanted it to be a ruse, but ink didn't lie. Plus, each person handing him the dream-sheet had slept in separate areas and respected in the community. "I know who this is. She helped us set up the medical lab. But I can't remember her name. She's part of the IT department."

  “Some of us have seen her, but we wanted to give the dream a second night. Our efforts at deciphering our dreams have revealed that it takes a few days for them to take place," Mirra said.

  “Mathew would know where we can find her. He’s taken charge of the tech-team.” Malica said. “I’ll call him.” She pressed slightly below her ear.

  “How may I assist you, Malica,” her AID said.

  “Contact Mathew Kindler, please.”

  “Yes, Malica.”

  “Hello, Dr. Malica.” Mathew sounded winded.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m helping the engineers out a bit. What’s on your mind?”

  “I’m sending you an image of someone. Can you tell me where to find her?”

  There was a slight pause. “That’s Stefa. She is our Croatian teammate. Smart tech that one. Who drew the picture? It’s quite good?”

  “That’s not important right now. Where can I find her?”

  “Um—she’s supposed to be climbing a wall today to set up a Blue-repeater. South of Cave 3C.�
�

  “South of Cave 3C,” Malica confirmed.

  “We’re in 3C,” Sammis said.”

  They raced as one towards the south side exit. Those they passed stopped what they were doing to stare at the group as they rushed by.

  Light washed over them as they emerged from the cave’s mouth, where they met a woman who shot a laser into the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Dr. Spencer asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  “Testing how many layers of detritus covered us while we slept, and testing where those minerals possibly came from,” she said dryly.

  “That’s Interesting,” Dr. Spencer said trying to hide his haste. “Have you seen Stefa?”

  "Yes, Doctor. She said she was climbing the steep rubble face, that way." She pointed. I offered to—" The woman barely started before the group scampered away as one without uttering another word.

  "Even in the forty-first-century people don't have manners," she called after the oblivious group.

  Sammis and another man took the lead when the climb drew steeper. The other man saw her first and called out, “Hello!”

  “Hello!” The surprised woman said. The sun above her head imbued her in a bright hallo.

  “Be careful. Stay away from the vines!” Sammis called out, still climbing.

  “I’m wearing protective clothing against salamanders or any other slithering bug, and there are no vines on this thick rock face,” she called over her shoulder, returning her attention to the task at hand.

  Sammis could make out her face now. She was positioning a black antenna while looking at her wrist computer.

  "You guys here to help?" A toothed vine emerged beside her. She toppled back, nearly losing her footing, her strangled cry booming into the abyss below.

  "Remain still, or you'll fall. We got this," Sammis said, retrieving his sidearm. The Dreamer did the same, and they both fired. The vine began thrashing when one projectile burned through it. The vine rose further, but another smoking hole burst from its thick-smooth trunk. It started receding, leaving behind a trail of green dribble as it slithered back into the protection of the boulders.