Octopocalypse (3 page)

“The second incident involved two
young men on the very pier behind me.” Directing his attention to the nearby
protestors that the Guard had cordoned off from the news conference, he added,
“One I would recommend you avoid for the time being. Again, the victim was
fishing. A giant octopus of some sort flew out of the water and claimed one of
the teenagers’ lives.

“A third incident involved a
jogger that never returned from her evening run. No signs of her body have been
found. The only eyewitnesses to come forward say they saw her running one moment
near the break and that she was gone the next.

“A group of surfers was found
washed up along the shore at Old Dunes State Beach. An eyewitness there did not
see the incident take place, happening upon the scene well after it occurred.

“A beachcomber is presumed missing
after he never returned from his daily stroll along the beach to pick up litter.

“Finally, we are presently
investigating reports of a pair of missing jetskiers and a couple whose tent
was found unoccupied along the shore.

“We hope there are no more
incidents.”

Seeing that he was finished, the
group grumbled and shifted while his name was called out in more variations
than he thought possible.

Finally, a soft-spoken reporter
from KCRW in LA asked, “What can you tell us about the cause of these events?
What does it mean?”

He shrugged. “What does anything
mean?”

That wasn’t they type of answer
they were looking for. He wasn’t about to enter into a philosophical discussion
or a logical debate. These people wanted reassurance and information. They
wanted things to make sense.

They didn’t want some tired old
man to start rambling about man’s search for meaning or lack thereof.

He tried again. “Understand that
what I am about to say is merely conjecture and should at this point be
considered as such.

“As you know, the local fisheries
have suffered of late with decreased catch and reduced quality of those fish
harvested. One prevailing thought—at this point no more than speculation—is
that the collapse of the local fishery may be the cause of certain marine
organisms searching for food sources in new areas, while also experimenting
with new food types.

“On the other hand, it is also quite
possible that these changes in marine life, whatever they are and however they
are caused, may have been the cause of the fishery’s collapse. Perhaps these
changes in sea life resulted in predators that are too efficient for their own
good.

“It may be the case that these
organisms will die off without adequate resources to maintain them.”

Where had he pulled that one from?

Megan was rubbing off on him.

“And what caused these creatures
to evolve?”

He missed who asked the question.

“That is a question we are
currently investigating along with the ultimate cause of these calamities.”

Again the throng began buzzing and
churning, seething with the need to ask the next question.

Then somebody screamed.

A few people pointed back toward
the water, their faces masks of horror and incredulity.

People started running.

Microphones and notepads were
dropped in the mad flight. Only the cameramen and a few of the more stalwart
reporters held their ground, jockeying for a better angle.

He turned to see what had caused
the commotion.

He wished he hadn’t.

Some idiot was running full speed
down the pier toward them.

How he got by the Guard was
anyone’s guess. He’d probably snuck by at night while some of his pals created
a disturbance. Then, as part of his grand vision, he probably decided it would
be
cool
or
brave
to stay on the pier overnight to show everyone that
there was really nothing to be afraid of, nothing to fear.

The whole point of all this was to
try to instill some kind of order, to ensure everyone’s safety. Fools like this
always found a way to make things more difficult.

Of course, the fool had good
reason to run.

A coruscating cloud of cephalopods
was quickly gaining on him—squid and octopi alike.

A veritable tentacular tornado.

Sighing, the sheriff drew his
pistol and started barking commands.

“Men, form up and lay down
covering fire!”

“Let’s get him home!”

“Guard, get these people heading
to the safety of their homes!”

Even idiots deserved to live.

At least until they dug themselves
into a hole so deep they couldn’t get out.

This genius had come awfully
close.

Worse than his potential loss was
the risk his stupidity had posed to all those gathered at the pier’s end.

Reloading his pistol, he could see
there were quite a few who refused to leave.

And unfortunately, his officers’ efforts
didn’t seem to be slowing down the cephaloswarm.

Bullets cut right through the things,
yet they kept on flying.

Taking a moment to bark another
order before unloading more rounds, he yelled, “Get everyone out of here! We’re
not slowing them down!”

“Move it, people!” His voice
boomed so loud it echoed off the shops lining the seafront.

“Get out of here!”

Joining the Guard at the blockade,
he continued to fire.

The runner was torn apart by a
shoal of Humboldts about two hundred feet before reaching the barricade at the
pier’s end.

With the civilian gone, the
sheriff ordered a retreat. There was no need to risk anyone else. “Fall back!
Get in your vehicles and go!”

Turning to make a dash for his own
squad car, he saw that almost half the reporters and their crews lingered,
ignoring him completely. Not caring how his image was seen for posterity, he
bellowed, “Get out of here! Now! You are jeopardizing yourselves and my men!
Go!”

A few crews began heading to their
vans, but most didn’t budge, caught up in the thrill of capturing the unfolding
drama.

He supposed they’d start moving
when they started dying.

As the rest of his officers and
the Guard began running by, he brandished his pistol at the cameras and fired a
warning shot over their heads. “Get the hell outta here!”

Judging by the terror on their
faces, he could see that his message was starting to get through.

Sadly, it was too late.

A massive spinning octopus lifted
a screaming cameraman up into the air. As blood began to rain down on the
shocked onlookers, his camera, with its golden K5 logo, fell to the ground with
a crash.

As Hayes dove to the pavement, the
remains of the cameraman followed, hitting the asphalt hard.

A group of iridescent Humboldt
squids flashed red and white through the air where he had been yelling just
moments before.

The mass zeroed in on another
target, and gouts of blue-black ink enveloped a reporter too slow on her feet.
She was somehow immobilized by the poisonous spray, and the squid picked her
apart within feet of the sheriff’s face.

Gouts of blood sprayed all around,
splattering his face and hands as he stood and ran, bent over, toward his
patrol car.

More screams followed his retreat.

Turning back for a brief look, his
eyes fell upon a scene of sheer madness.

Bodies were literally being torn
limb from limb across the beach.

And more were coming.

“Sheriff Hayes! Sheriff Hayes!”

Looking back in the direction of
the town, he saw a small Asian man running at full speed toward him—Master
Tanaka, the proprietor of Sushi Yoshi, one the strand’s finest restaurants.

“Shooting won’t work! They must be
cut!”

What was this crazy little man
doing here?

Tossing something to the sheriff
as he approached, Master Tanaka yelled again. “They must be cut!”

Catching the bundle as easily as
he once intercepted passes intended to go over the defensive line in days long
past, the sheriff looked down at his hands.

A sword. A gleaming wooden sheath
with intricate decorations. A masterful dragon dancing on clouds had been wrought
into the guard.

“For you, my finest katana!”

Master Tanaka was passing out
blades to as many people as would take them.

And somehow, he was managing to
wield a sword in his other hand, slicing apart anything that got near him.

If an old sushi chef could
distribute arms, offer support, save his fellow citizens, and fight at the same
time, the least Hayes could do was try.

Holstering his gun and drawing the
gleaming blade from its sheath, he charged into the fray and began swinging.

These
things had to die…

But
no matter how many he cut down, more just kept coming.

They
still had to die.

One
thing was working in their favor.

Master
Tanaka’s sushi restaurant was just a block away.

How
that man managed to have so many knives stored in one building, Hayes had no
idea. But the implements of culinary delight were helping stave off the hordes of
jet squids and bands of octocopters that kept surging up out of the water.

Master
Tanaka must have run the equivalent of a marathon with as many trips as he made
back and forth to his shop to ferry out blades for the Guard and the officers
that had not yet taken cover.

Of
course, if those darn fool reporters had actually listened and stopped filming,
none of this would have been necessary.

Despite
everything, most of the idiots were still planted in place. Some who had already
left had even foolishly come back to resume filming.

His
blade sliced through the mantle of a squid with a satisfying firmness.

Maybe
he could talk Master Tanaka into letting him keep the sword on extended loan
when all was said and done.

His
breathing deep and even, he looked up from the carnage to see that the sky was
clear and the battle won.

Unfortunately,
the day had just begun.

Picking
up his gore-encrusted radio from his belt, he began calling for emergency assistance.

Those
things had to die.

But
first he had to tend to the living.

He
jumped out of his cot at the police station, his heart racing.

The
ring of his cell phone immediately filled his mind with nightmares, phantasms
worse than the ones he had suffered through while asleep.

What
had happened now?

Had
some other martyr decided to sacrifice himself to the beasts from the deep?

Blinking
to focus his eyes, rubbing them groggily, he picked up the phone without
looking at who was calling and answered, “Sheriff Hayes.”

“Dad,
it’s me.”

“Megan!”
He had never been so glad to hear from his daughter. His deputies had assured
him that all was well when they left, but given the current state of affairs,
one could never be too sure.

“I
have some news.”

“Really?”

That
was a first: something that might be helpful.

Okay,
that wasn’t entirely fair. More National Guard were on their way. Army troops
were also moving in. FEMA would arrive tomorrow to begin organizing the
recovery. Sadly, it had taken the sacrifice of far too many of his citizens and
their protectors to bring about the change—but he would try to avoid being
bitter.

“I
have consistently detected trace amounts of several chemicals I cannot identify
in the water.”

“What
exactly does that mean?”

“I
don’t know yet, precisely, but I intend to find out. They’re highly bioactive,
and those I have been able to ID are very mutagenic. I’m going to take the
samples back to the lab for full analysis. I don’t have the equipment here to
do a full assay.”

“You’re
leaving?”

“We’ve
got to get some answers.”

He
barked a short laugh. “That’s actually good news! I hate to say this, but I
want you gone!”

She
laughed in return. “And I was worried about leaving you alone with all this
mess.”

“Let
me deal with it. This is my job. I’ll have more help than I can manage soon
enough.”

“I’ll
be back as soon as I can.”

“Take
your time!”

“Dad,
there’s one more thing, and this is critical.”

“Yes?”

“I
think I know the source of the contamination.”

“Where?”

“The
chemical concentration is highest in the samples taken close to the old
military base.”

“There
was an old Superfund site there… The EPA claimed that was all cleaned up.”

“I’m
sad to say, it seems that the biological experiments that were undertaken there
continue, if unknowingly.”

“At
least we know where to go to try to contain the agents that caused this
outbreak and try to prevent another.”

“I’ve
already made some calls. Crews should begin arriving to begin evaluation within
the week. More serious efforts will begin as soon as they can.”

“Thanks,
Meg.”

“I
love you, Dad.”

“I
love you too.”

The
phone went silent in his hand.

That
made two less worries to contend with.

Given his
luck, a few more would arrive quickly to take their place.

Finally,
some more good news!

He
turned the television off with a satisfying click of his remote.

A
major storm front with heavy rains and high winds that had been shaping up off
the coast for some time was now expected to make landfall within hours...
perhaps as soon as mid-morning.

The system had originally been
predicted to remain at sea with minimal impact on the local weather.

The rains were predicted to last
for days.

Not everyone looked forward to
rain, particularly nasty, potentially violent storms, but in this case he was
ecstatic.

Something to keep people away from
the beach!

He couldn’t be happier.

He’d take what little gifts he
could.

Grabbing a quick bite to eat on
his way after making sure everything was in order at the station, he headed
back to operations central at the pier.

The beach was silent.

Too silent.

There was no activity, no movement,
no vitality to the shore.

Grey skies overhead and winds
blowing inland threatened the rain he knew was coming. The surf was choppy and
grey, holding the mysteries within threateningly.

Most, but not all, of the media
were gone.

The protestors with their signs,
chants, and demands had vanished.

He did not take pleasure in their
absence, however.

He wished they were back.

Fervently.

In fact, most of the streets near
the ocean were now completely abandoned, the central business district
included.

Unless people had very important
business to do, or didn’t have the means to leave town, most were already gone.

The one exception was Master
Tanaka’s Sushi Yoshi. It was doing a booming business with all the community
imports.

Master Tanaka probably wouldn’t need
to order any more octopus or squid for years.

Locals were also making
surreptitious walks to his shop to buy foods. The effort was both a show of
thanks for his efforts on the community’s behalf and an indirect way to show
their disdain for the agents of their town’s undoing.

FEMA was in the process of setting
up shelters inland for those living in high-risk areas. Their members could be
seen moving determinedly through the command area.

He wished they could resolve the
town’s problems with just as much authority.

Heavier equipment and weaponry had
been moved in overnight. The strand itself now looked like a military surplus
parking lot. Tanks, APCs, Humvees. Various types of artillery: mortars,
anti-aircraft, rocket launchers. Cannons and missiles. Assorted support
vehicles were positioned almost everywhere space allowed. Farther inland,
aerial vehicles had a larger staging area should evacs or additional firepower
be necessary.  

Walking toward the main command
tent as he exited his patrol car, he thought of his own role in the crisis. In
many ways, he had gone from being a central hub in dealing with the ongoing
response to an advocate for his citizens’ needs.

He was fine with that.

The experts could handle the
logistics. He would focus on what his community needed to move forward, to heal,
and to return to health.

That job was as important as any.

Plus, what else was he going to
do?

He checked the two machetes
strapped to his hips—he had returned Master Tanaka’s wicked sword—before
entering the command tent to see what news Major Ganlin had to report.

A point of calm in the midst of
all the activity, Major Ganlin lit up uncharacteristically when Hayes entered.
He supposed a familiar face was always welcome in a crowd.

She walked over to him. “Coming in
to take the pressure off me having to give a press conference in your absence?”

“I wouldn’t want to let you down.”

She smiled.

“But after yesterday, are you sure
you want me to give one? I practically summoned those monsters from the water.”

The major briefly shook her head.
“No, that honor goes to the genius who lured them in like bait dancing on the
end of a fishing line. You merely had the opportunity to be the face of the
disaster on national television.”

“Thanks. That bodes well for my
reelection chances.”

“Considering you did a passable Conan
the Barbarian impersonation, I would say you didn’t hurt your chances.”

He gave a wry, winning smile. “I
was aiming more for
Yojimbo,
what with Master Tanaka’s dancing samurai sword exacting
justice, but I’ll take Conan.”

“You
helped turn the tide. We’ll take that however it comes.”

Shifting
from casual to more serious, he said, “I don’t think we’ll need many swords and
knives now with the array of heavy equipment fortifying the beachfront.”

“Let’s
hope we don’t need them at all.”

“Agreed.”

“I
have word that a crew from the EPA should arrive at the old military
installation shortly. You’ll have to pass our thanks to Megan. Her work will
lay the groundwork for much of our future efforts to stabilize and restore the
bay.”

“Don’t
worry. I’m too proud of her not to let her know.”

“And
happy she’s gone?”

“More
than I can say.”

Before
Ganlin could add anything else, he said, “Is there anything we can do to help?
My officers are starting to feel a bit left out.”

“I
doubt that. You’ve got more on your plates than you can handle. If you can help
us keep people out of harm’s way, that’s more than I can ask or expect.
Evacuation isn’t mandatory, but helping people find safety, support, and surety
is paramount. They’ll look for that from you and appreciate it more than if we
offered.”

“We’re
already on it. Anything else?”

“Well,
there is the matter of the next press conference…”

He
laughed. “Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Good.
Let’s talk over the particulars of today’s mission.”

Falling
in beside her, he walked over to the tent’s center, with its uniformed officers
clustered around the central table, already deep in discussions.

He
appreciated this kinder, gentler major.

He knew
she was just as tough underneath as she had always been. Perhaps he had just
earned a bit of her respect, and with it, more of her personality.

Let’s
hope he didn’t have to earn any more.

Speaking
into his walkie-talkie, his words interspersed by static, he said, “Major Ganlin,
you’ve got to come see this.”

“Is
this critical, Sheriff? I'm in the middle of a conference.”

“Your
meeting can wait. In fact, bring it out here. Get them all out here.”

“Where
are you?”

“On
the pier by the barricade.”

The
moist ocean breeze gusted against his back, the smell of the sea strong, as he
watched Major Ganlin walk toward him from the command tent with a retinue of
assorted government officials.

Offering
a wry grin, his words competing against the building winds, he patted the
weapons at his side and said, “I don’t think my machetes are going to be
enough.”

Raising
her eyebrows in reply, Major Ganlin followed his gesture toward the storm front
looming behind him.

Her
eyes went wide.

A steel-grey
storm front surged across the dark cobalt ocean waters of the bay. Intermittent
flashes of lightning illuminated the roiling interior darkness of the tempest.
Within the spumous, convulsing depths, amid the rain and clouds, and rushing along
the squall’s fore, incandescent lights, wavelike chromatic displays, and
reflective iridescent surfaces rode the air currents in numbers beyond counting.

Cephalopods
in untold hordes raced toward the shore.

Any
hope of things ever getting any easier evaporated in the face of the impending
tumult.

Not
that he had really expected anything less.

Smiling
over at the major, who still stood stunned beside him, he asked, “Any chance we
can sit this one out?”

His
words snapped her from her reverie. “Not on your life.”

She
had found her place just as he had found his.