Clio and Cy: The Apocalypse (12 page)

“But even the President of the United States sometimes must
have to stand naked.”

-Bob Dylan

Atlanta:

The President and the rest of his cabinet were holed up at
the Governor’s mansion in Atlanta. Most of the military force stayed a few
miles away.

The surviving Marines from Camp Lejeune that didn’t go to
Fort Jackson were dispatched to protect the Capital. Few made it through the
first attack wave, and those Marines that did survive escorted the President to
the Dirty South.

The Devil Dogs arrived and scouted for a new place to call
home. They found a place, good as any.

The Marines now resided at the Eclipse; an old high-rise
building that was scheduled for demolition before the war started. The remaining
forces of Ft. Bragg called the St. Regis Hotel, which was spitting distance
from the Eclipse, their home.

Now occupying its condominiums, the Eclipse was home to five
hundred or so Marines. Like a concrete hive, it had over three hundred rooms
and a covered parking structure where they could secure vehicles. Two tanks and
thirteen Hum-Zs were all that was left of their mobile ground force.

Twenty-one stories high, The Eclipse’s flat lid offered an
excellent observation post. As if they were blackbirds on a high wire perch,
round the clock duty stations were assigned on its rooftop.

The Army’s Ft. Bragg didn’t fare as well as the Devil Dogs
in the initial war. They didn’t have the security of the ocean that Camp
Lejeune offered and unlike the Marines, they had dozens of Ker working inside
their base. Bragg was landlocked and the Ker did an outstanding job of
decimating the base, along with its mobilized infantry. Seven pathetic Hum-Zs
were all the Army had left - that was it.

Down the road, a force of less than one hundred guarded the
President at the mansion. Acting as lookouts, small details were stationed
around the perimeter a click or two from the Governor’s former estate.

Dr. Pavlov’s address at the CDC was just over eight miles
away from the old Governor’s mansion, aka the new White House. The Soldiers and
Marines were less than two miles from the President’s new digs.

All the players were close.

Seth Pavlov didn’t have to pass by the Eclipse and the St.
Regis to get to the President, but he did, on purpose. After storming the
politician’s new palace, he knew the military would come his way.

 
Might as well take them out first
.

1:21PM:

Seeing the ruins that were now the Dirty South, a Marine
stood watch, observing from the vantage point of Twenty-one floors up. He saw
them coming and his eyes widened:
Holy
shit!

“Mayday! Mayday!” the SGT shouted through his handset,
standing on the roof of the Eclipse. The Marines nicknamed the high-rise
building, “The Saipan 2,” after an old decommissioned LHA ship and ran it like
a gator freighter.

“I’ve got Ker inbound on the southeast and southwest corner.
Do you copy! Over? I say again my last, Ker inbound from the south and west
corners!”

“Roger that! I copy!” shouted the duty officer that was stationed
in the lobby. Ground level, he jumped over the concierge desk and ran to the
fire control panel, pulling the alarm.

Running wide-eyed with hands on top of his head, the second
duty came out from the package room. “Make the announcement!” he shouted, “I’m
not ready for this shit man!”

Both Marines headed toward the main fire control room and
one grabbed the handset mike. Squeezing the button, he barked over the howling
fire alarm.

“Attention on deck! Attention on deck! General Quarters!
General Quarters! We’ve got Ker inbound! I say again my last, Ker are inbound!
This is not a drill! I repeat! This is not a drill!”

The Marine’s radio channel was synced with the Army’s
frequency at the St. Regis Hotel. Same as the Devil Dogs were, the soldiers were
scrambling on high alert.

Several heavily armed Ker had flanked the building on the
north side after the first ones were seen on the south side.

Two hundred men on the tenth floor clubroom/pool area began
running down adjacent passageways. Hauling ass inside both stairwells, Marines
raced down and joined their brothers who were streaming off each floor. Empty
for years, the sound of voices ricocheting off concrete walls filled the
cavernous stairwell space - echoing from twenty-one to the basement floor.

Rockets slammed into the side of the building. “Boom!” The
deafening violence swept Marines off their feet. “Boom!” The building crumbled
around them as men staggered for balance and fell. After getting back to their
feet, the Devil Dogs ran for ground zero.

Destroyers continued to fire missiles from FGM-500 Javelin
tank busters. The Ker held the portable rocket launchers on their shoulders,
fired, and then dropped the weapon directly behind them into arms of a Sentinel
bot for reloading.

Blasting out, the javelin projectiles trailed vapor lines
through the sky and then angled up five hundred feet away from their
destination; target acquired, they swooped down leaving crescent shapes in
their wake. Popping up made the missiles appear to be getting a better look at
the Eclipse before slamming into its exterior concrete.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!” The Destroyers continued bombarding,
shattering glass and twisting girders, pummeling men on a sadistic and
unrelenting bouncy ride.

A Marine fell from the nineteenth floor going over a
handrail. “AHHHhhhh!” His scream passed the other Marines in a sickening cry
for help. Catching the edge of the wall, his head smacked, killing him before
he splattered at the bottom.

Dust rose up from inside the crumbling structure; impeded,
the Marines began stacking up, trapped at the basement level. Egresses were
blocked and chunks were piled high as if the Eclipse were snowing a concrete
blizzard. The humans couldn’t exit the bottom of either stairwell to escape.

Breaking legs and ankles, men jumped off lower level
balconies.

Surrounding the building, the Ker fired at will and killed
without compassion. Tank busters launched from all sides at the
Saipan 2.
“Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!”

“Go back! Go back up!” a Marine shouted from the crowd. It
took a painstakingly long time for the line to start moving again as the men
stood looking up the stairwell in a huddled mass of confusion. “Go! Go!”

Twenty-one floors up, the SGT stationed on the roof stayed
put. His orders were to remain elevated and give SITREP (Situation Reports)
while the battle ensued. His knees buckled from the bombardment of rockets as
much as they did from his shaky nerves. Hearing post tension cables snap, he
felt the building sway as if he were on top of a wire suspended bridge.

The SGT ran to the edge and watched in shock as six Ker
fired in unison.

All six rockets struck the side of the building, sending him
tumbling to the center of the roof. He stood up and the floor dropped like a
rollercoaster. In a blur, the horizon changed and the cityscape disappeared
after he landed on his back. The Marine’s stomach flew out and lodged into his
throat. He plummeted while looking skyward. The sinking feeling mounted in his
gut, flying inside him like a churning wraith, queasy.

He was falling… And so was the building.

The Marine almost blacked out from the speed he was
traveling south. Halfway down his head smacked the deck, momentarily knocking
him unconscious. With broken bones, he regained his awareness and saw it
coming.

An AAON system the size of a panel truck went whizzing by
his head. Wincing in pain, he realized the second cooling system wasn’t going
to miss. The last thought he had was,
shit,
I’m dead already
, disappointed that he never got to fire a shot in anger.
AAON two crushed him as the high-rise toppled to the ground.

The building pancaked over three hundred Marines that were
still trapped inside.

Alexandria, VA:

“Good morning, Dr. Marcus.”

Dr. Pressfield glanced at Cy but didn’t answer as he looked
back at his computer.

“What’s wrong, Dr. Marcus?”

“Ahh…” Marcus paused… His mouth opened as if he was going to
speak. Nothing came out as he slowly closed his lips. He paused again… “It’s
this email, Cy… I received a disturbing message,” Dr. Pressfield announced as
he leaned back and crossed his arms, still staring at the screen, feeling the
homes generator vibrating.

“I can tell it’s troubling you, Dr. Marcus.”

“Yes Cy… very troubling… it’s not good. Not good at all,” he
said shaking his head.

“Shall I prepare breakfast for you, Dr. Marcus?”

Dr. Pressfield didn’t answer as he leaned in and continued
to read the email over again.

Cy knew that Dr. Pressfield wasn’t paying attention to him.
Dr. Marcus would answer when he was ready. Cy zipped his lips and remained
quiet.

“The new Capital in Atlanta is under attack,” Dr. Pressfield
stated, leaning in and making sure the message was correct after reading it a
third time.

“You’re not thinking of another test are you, Dr. Marcus?”

Remaining in deep thought, Dr. Pressfield turned away from
the computer and looked out the window… “What? No Cy, this isn’t something we
can help with.”

Cy knew that there was no way the President could be rescued
at this point, but still, he wondered… wondered if Dr. Marcus might have
something in mind. Cy wanted to help as much as Dr. Pressfield did.

The cyborg pondered...
But
what could be done, the siege is already taking place and we’re seven hundred
miles away?

“I wish there was something we could do… but…” Dr.
Pressfield started to say.

“If you sent me, I would surely perish against such odds,
Dr. Marcus.”

Dr. Pressfield whipped his head around and stared at his
beloved cyborg as if he’d said something wrong. “Yes Cy. You’re right about
that…”

“I will gladly go if you wish me to, Dr. Marcus.”

Dr. Pressfield strained a smile. “I know you would, Cy.”

“Who is the email from, Dr. Marcus?”

“From a Marine Colonel I worked with a few times… He was
there when I pitched my first project about designing… well making splendid
creatures like you,” he said, pointing at Cy.

“You like him don’t you, Dr. Marcus?”

“He was a big supporter of what I was... of mine… Yes, Cy… I
always liked Colonel Reagner.”

“Coffee, Dr. Marcus,” Cy said handing Dr. Pressfield a
steaming cup of black java.

“Hard not to… thank you, Cy. Hard not to like someone that
was in my corner when so many others thought I was a nut.”

“I see, Dr. Marcus…”

“Been an hour since I’ve heard from him… He won’t email me
back now. I’m afraid he’s probably dead…” Dr. Pressfield stated while rising up
from his chair.

Dr. Pressfield and Cy both froze. It was at the living room
window.

“Ssshhhhaaa,” it hissed and clawed its nails down the glass.

Marcus Pressfield hated the dark; moreover, he hated not
letting the sunlight shine inside his home. For the sake of sleeping more
soundly, bedrooms were boarded up, but he couldn’t bear to cover the living
room and kitchen. Besides, he had Cy to protect him. In the present moment,
however, he thought better of leaving things so exposed.

In order to protect, Cy disobeyed Marcus for the first time.
Cy ran out the front door and Marcus yelled. “No! Cy! Stay in here!”

Flinging the door shut behind him, the cyborg disappeared
outside.

Dr. Pressfield ran toward the glass and the creature
disappeared from view. Marcus franticly moved around and stood on his tiptoes
trying to get a better look. Too many things were blocking so he ran toward the
door and saw them squaring off through stained glass.

Dr. Pressfield boldly opened the door and stood on the front
porch. His instinct to protect Cy quickly evaporated after the terrifying sight
of the monster, followed by a foul smell. Dr. Pressfield was dangerously close
to a grotesque mutation, one that his stolen seed had grown into. It looked
like a demon from hell.

Cy pointed at Dr. Pressfield. “Don’t be afraid, Dr. Marcus,”
he said, keeping a bead on the monster.

Marcus couldn’t obey his cyborg’s command. He thought he
might pee in his pants right then and there. Dr. Pressfield wanted to shout at
Cy but thought better of it, and decided not to distract his cyborg. Trembling
as if he was in the arctic without a jacket, Dr. Pressfield watched the scene
with prickly skin and rattling teeth.

The creature’s disgusting smell poisoned the air, wafting
stronger as it hissed at the cyborg. The thing stopped and stared directly at
Dr. Pressfield, smelling his fear and letting him know
…
you’re next.

The creature stood on its hind legs and turned to the cyborg,
and then coiled down. It lunged at Cy and jumped through the air. Being the
weight of a young teenage boy, Cy flew back when the monster struck him.

Seeing his cyborg stumble back and go end over end, Dr.
Pressfield almost shit himself.

Cy deflected the monster’s shot and regained his footing, he
stood back up, ready to engage. Soiled, Cy’s hair was messy and his shirt was
covered with dirt and leaves.

“Ssshhhhaaa!” The creature circled thinking of a new
strategy, surprised how light and fast his prey was.

Cy squared off with the flesh-eater and crouched in a
fighting stance. The creature went for it again and flew through the air.
Sidestepping the beast, the cyborg threw a lightning punch, striking the
creature’s ribs. “Eeeroh!” The monster squealed as its bones cracked from Cy’s
fist.

Recomposed, the flesh-eating humanoid attacked. It came back
hard, staying close to the ground, aiming for Cy’s legs. The young cyborg
kicked the creature’s head as if it were a soccer ball. “Eeeroh!” it squealed
again, wincing as it tumbled over the dirt, bleeding from the friction of
impact.

Back to its feet again, the beast turned and stood on its
hind legs. “Ssshhhhaaa!” it hissed in painful anger. The demonic humanoid was
determined to kill Cy, appearing to have the look of
a
vengeful human in its eyes.

Coiling with murder in its eyes, the beast sprang, jumping
high in the air, overcommitting and sailing as if it were a flying squirrel. Cy
dropped to a knee and waited for the beast to pass over him, plunging his stiff
fingers into the creature’s chest as it flew directly over.

Cy’s extremity was a spear and his hand knifed deep, burying
his arm all the way to his elbow inside the creature’s body. The humanoid’s
momentum pulled Cy along while he ripped the beast’s heart out. The demonic
humanoid arched down and landed on the lawn, careening like a dead sack of
meat.

“I told you not to worry, Dr. Marcus,” Cy said, appearing to
breathe hard from his cooling system, holding a shiny heart with blood dripping
down his arm.