Orbs II: Stranded (19 page)

He thought of his sister as he held the rope in his hands. Alex wasn’t going to let those things get him like they had her.

Before he stood on the chair and slipped the noose around his neck, he considered what he was about to do one more time. He had worked so hard to survive out there. Tried so desperately to find safety. And he thought he had.

NTC had taken him in, fed him, and promised him the human race wasn’t going to just lie down and die. But he didn’t believe any of it. He had seen the monstrosities outside, the Spiders and the orbs, and now the sea serpents. They were just as vulnerable in this submarine as they were outside. Noble thought he could fight back. The Biosphere at Colorado Springs thought they could create a weapon. But what was the point? The Organics were in control of everything. They owned the planet now. Whatever humanity did, however they tried to fight
or hide or survive, the Organics would find them. The Organics would kill them.

He didn’t want any of it.

With the noose in position, he tightened it and closed his eyes. His sister’s freckled face slipped into his mind. It was a memory from long ago, on a sunny day at the beach. He could see her laughing at some joke he didn’t remember making. Then she was gone. He saw instead the image of one of the snakelike aliens. The creature’s chest opened and flapped its fins as it lurched toward him. There was only one way to finally escape them. And he was doing it on his own terms.

He kicked the chair out from under him and felt the noose tighten around his neck. His legs kicked uncontrollably, but he didn’t fight it like he thought he would. He didn’t claw at the rope around his neck. He simply closed his eyes and slipped away into the black.

In the CIC, Captain Noble let out a sigh as the GOA continued its ascent. The hull creaked as the pressure decreased on their way up to the surface and the ballast tanks filled with air. Even after so many years at sea, the sound still startled him.

He watched the blue screen in front of him read off their depth.

Eight hundred feet.

Seven hundred forty-five feet.

Five hundred ten feet . . .

CHAPTER 27

S
OPHIE
led Jeff through the darkness. The sunlight had disappeared about a mile back when they had followed the tracks deep underground. Her infrared allowed her to see into the darkest places, but Jeff was completely blind. He held on to her left hand tightly as they made their way deeper into the entrails of the facility.

The outline of one of the idle trains came into view as they rounded the next corner. Overton held up his hand and then jerked his chin at Bouma. “Check it out.”

Sophie watched Bouma’s armored body move cautiously forward, his pulse rifle leveled at the train. “Any intel from the bot?” she whispered into her helmet’s microphone.

“I’ve been watching the video on my HUD. So far the tunnels appear clear,” Overton replied.

Glancing at her own HUD for the mission time, she saw a tiny red flash.

Contact.

Bouma must have seen it too. He dropped to one knee and jammed his rifle tighter against his shoulder.

Sophie quickly pulled Jeff to the side of the tracks where they rested their backs against the concrete wall.

“What is it?” Jeff whispered. Pulling his 10mm handgun from his backpack, he tried to look around her.

“Shhh,” Sophie said, pushing him back toward the wall. She peered around the corner and saw the red blip dance across her display and
disappear into the train.

Have they found us already?

Her breathing became more labored, hot puffs of breath fogging up her visor. She swiped at the glass in vain and waited for the view to clear.

A short burst of white noise sounded in her ear.

“Contact,” Bouma said.

“Roger. Check it out,” Overton replied.

Sophie saw Bouma’s helmet move, although she wasn’t sure if he was acknowledging Overton or if he was just surveying the area. In seconds, he was on the move, his rifle aimed at the train’s windows, then the ground, then the windows again, and finally the open door.

Sophie blinked, and Bouma was gone. She tightened her grip on Jeff’s hand, ready to lead him away from the train. The time on her mission clock ticked away across her display.

Fifteen seconds passed. Then another fifteen. Each moment felt like an eternity. Like one of her bad dreams.

The growing sensation of helplessness began to take control of her—her heart thumped faster in her chest and her breathing became shallower.

She looked back at Jeff. He was staring into the darkness, his lips quivering. His face drenched with sweat and dirt.

How terrified must he feel? Waiting in the darkness, completely vulnerable to his surroundings. Sophie licked her dry lips and narrowed her eyes with a new resolve. She knew she had to be strong for him.

Sophie flinched as another burst of static played over her helmet’s headset. She waited for Overton to relay another order, but instead her earpiece was filled with a chilling scream. The noise was stifled at once by the com’s static, making it impossible to know where the sound was coming from.

Another voice erupted over the net. “Back, get back!”

The screaming was deafening, and she cupped her hands over her helmet in a futile attempt to stop the noise.

Movement flashed across her display and she focused on Overton, who was waving his hands in her direction.

“Get back!”

The words were his. It finally made sense. She retreated a few steps until she felt her back hit the wall. More movement flashed across her display. Overton was sprinting toward the train. He skidded to a stop just as Bouma jumped out of the open door and crashed onto the train tracks.

Sophie reached back and grabbed Jeff with her right hand to keep him still while she peeked around the corner.

Bouma clawed at his head. It was then she saw there was something attached to his helmet. He rolled on the tracks, pawing at his visor, while Overton rushed over to help him.

“What the hell is it?” Sophie finally said, her voice now hysterical.

Jeff pulled on Sophie’s hand. “What’s going on?”

Sophie didn’t reply. Overton was standing over Bouma, who was now sitting up and holding something in his hands.

What she heard next shocked her.

Laughter.

“It’s a freaking cat,” Overton said. “A cat!”

Bouma held the emaciated creature in his hands.

When her breathing and heart rate returned to normal levels, Sophie took Jeff’s hand and led him to the two marines. “Come on. It’s okay,” she reassured him.

Sophie stopped a few feet behind Overton. The cat was the first domesticated animal they had come across. It looked like an image from an animal welfare advertisement. What little hair it had left was in patchy clumps. Its ribs poked out of its shriveled skin. Sophie bent down and tried to pet the cat’s head, but it swiped at her with a clawed paw and hissed.

“We need to move,” Overton said. “Get your ass up, Bouma, and get rid of that cat.”

Sophie watched it scamper down the train tracks. Shaking her head, she grabbed Jeff’s hand again and followed the marines down the passage.

“How much longer until we reach the residential station?” Sophie whispered.

Overton checked his HUD. “Looks like at least another hour or so.
Then we wait for Kiel.”

Sophie thought of the marine climbing up the mountainside, the weapon dangling off his back. Without one of the NTC suits, he was completely unprotected from the heat. If he didn’t take breaks in the shade, he was bound to suffer heatstroke, no matter how agile or strong he was.

Just the thought of being exposed to the sun without a suit increased her blood pressure. It was cooler in the darkness of the subway, but not much. Even with a ventilation system, her armored suit felt like a furnace. Jeff appeared to be suffering just as badly without one. Sophie glanced down at the boy, who stumbled along in the darkness.

The sound of their footsteps echoed off the tunnel walls as they made their way deeper into the system. Entering the subway was like being sealed in a coffin, and she was beginning to feel trapped. She had thought she would feel safer here, but now she knew there was no place that felt safe.

A peculiar beep rang out. She stopped abruptly, glancing from side to side.

“What the hell is that?” Overton asked after the second chirp.

“I don’t . . .” Sophie began to say. Then she saw it. Her radio had come back online. A signal zigzagged across the display. She switched off her night vision with a blink and dropped Jeff’s hand.

“Turn the volume down,” Overton whispered over the net.

With a quick swipe, Sophie lowered the sound. Nothing but white noise crackled out of the speakers. Whoever was trying to get a hold of them wasn’t getting their message through.

“The tunnel is probably interfering with the transmission,” she said.

“Another reason to keep moving,” Overton said. “Let’s go. If that’s Alex, he’s still alive and can wait until we’re done here.”

Taking one last look at the display, Sophie felt a sudden surge of hope.

Captain Noble walked into the cargo bay with mixed feelings. While he was happy to finally have the opportunity to fight, he was sad to
leave his crew behind. He looked over the unit of NTC Special Forces soldiers gathering beneath him. They moved nimbly in their sleek black armor, their goggles emitting a fiery glow that illuminated the metal deck.

Their team lead, a man by the name of Sergeant Donald Harrington, sensed Noble’s presence and looked up at him. “Captain on deck,” he yelled. The other soldiers stood at attention and saluted Noble, who frowned and said, “At ease, at ease.”

Grabbing the ladder, Noble made his way down to the floor. In the corner of the room, he saw two workers mopping up grease. Like any well-oiled machine,
Ghost of Atlantis
had a job for everyone.

“Harrington, how long until we can get this thing airborne?”

“She’s ready to fly, sir.”

Noble marveled at the gunship. It was no ordinary helicopter, with titanium plates covering the outer shell and two inches of steel below that. The chopper easily fit thirty people in its cargo bay. It had stealth technology and an array of weapons including two side-mounted high-caliber pulse cannons and various rockets. The chopper could travel 350 miles per hour, making it one of the fastest gunships on the planet.

“Like a tank with rotors and a race car engine,” Noble muttered.

“Sir?” Harrington asked.

“Nothing.” The captain followed the soldiers as they walked single file up the ramp into the belly of the flying fortress. When it was his turn to enter, Noble slipped on his helmet and took a deep breath of the filtered air. It stunk of new plastic, just like the gas masks he’d been trained to use years before. He hated the smell. He flexed his arms inside his Kevlar armor, getting used to the feel of it. Glancing back at his ship one last time, he climbed into the chopper.

In the CIC, Lieutenant Commander Richards got the green light. “Irene, retrieve the radio mast and surface.”

“One moment, sir.”

A groan from the bowels of the ship echoed through the passages as the sail compartment above the deck exploded through the waves.
Richards could picture it, like the fin of a shark hunting its prey. The
Ghost of Atlantis
had surfaced.

He gripped his seat while the sub settled. Once his control panel glowed a healthy green, he swiveled his chair and hovered over another dashboard. Glancing at the middle console, he checked to ensure all systems were operational. With a deep breath he opened the com line to the chopper. “
Sea Serpent
, this is GOA, all systems are clear. Over.”

“Roger that, GOA,” the pilot responded.

Richards looked back down at the button that activated the cargo bay door, his finger hovering over it. The only thing between the chopper and the Organics was a thick metal door, one he controlled. The entire mission made him uneasy, but orders were orders, and Captain Noble seemed confident. Without further hesitation, Richards punched the button.

He watched the doors crack open, revealing a brilliant sun overhead. They hadn’t seen the sun for days. No. Weeks.

With a sigh, Richards sat back in his chair and watched the monitor.

“Sir, we have a situation,” Trish, the senior communications officers said.

Richards stiffened.
What now?
he thought.

“A guard just found Alex Wagner,” she continued.

“What’s your point?” replied Richards, craning his head back to study her face.

“He’s dead, sir. Hung himself in his quarters.”

Richard swallowed hard and turned to face the younger officer. This was the last thing he wanted to tell Captain Noble before the
Sea Serpent
embarked on its most important mission.

“How many people know?”

“The guard, his commanding officer, and us,” replied Trish promptly, her eyes narrowing in on him.

“Good; keep it that way. I don’t want this affecting Captain Noble’s mission.”

Trish paused for a brief moment before gesturing with the slightest of nods. “Yes, sir.”

In the cargo bay, the rectangular roof compartment angled upward. Rays of bright sunlight washed over the compartment. The pilot held his hands to his visor to block the sun. “Tint,” he said. The windshield turned a glassy gray in the blink of an eye.

After performing his preflight checklist, he maneuvered the bulky gunship onto the helipad. Another groan vibrated through the craft as the platform rose toward the opening.

With the chopper in position, he checked the monitor to make sure the craft was clear on all sides. A green light flashed, and with a single swipe from his index finger, he initiated the chopper’s multiple rotors. The blades above turned silently, a product of the best stealth technology NTC had to offer.

“GOA, this is
Sea Serpent
, requesting permission for takeoff,” the pilot said calmly. He stared out over the open ocean, the magnificent view a reminder of what they were still fighting for.

“Permission granted. Get back to us in one piece. Over,” Lieutenant Commander Richards replied.

Captain Noble’s voice crackled over the com. “Don’t wait up for us, Richards.”

The pilot grinned and listened to a few of the Special Forces soldiers chuckle over the com before turning to stare out the recently cleaned windshield. Underneath both wings he could see the waves slurping against the GOA’s sides.

“Time to put on a show for the aliens,” the pilot said. His words drew more laughter as he clicked one last button before pulling them into the air.

He watched the sub sink back into the water, bubbles and white caps churning above the water. And just like that, it was gone.

“Good luck,” the pilot whispered as the helicopter raced toward the coast.

The remnants of orbs lined the tracks like popped balloons. Sophie
squeezed Jeff’s hand as they came upon them.

“What do you see?” he asked.

Sophie smiled. He was a smart kid; a simple squeeze from her hand was enough to get his attention.

A few feet ahead Overton paused to check out the gory remains. “This didn’t show up on the bot’s video feed,” he said.

Bouma emerged from the shadows and bent down to look at what had once been some sort of animal. Sophie studied it too. It was hard to make out at first, but the claws and lumps of black fur were enough to tell her it was probably a raccoon.

Bouma stood and looked down the tunnel. “Maybe we took a wrong turn?”

“Negative. We’re right where we should be.”

“I don’t like this,” Bouma said, unshouldering his rifle.

Overton cocked his helmet to look at Sophie and Jeff. “Stay close.”

They moved as a pack, the sound of the rap of their footfalls clanking noisily over the metal. With every step, they drew closer to their destination—the human farms.

After another fifteen minutes of trekking through the tunnels Overton stopped abruptly. He balled his hand into a fist. Sophie tried to swallow, but her dry throat made it nearly impossible. Something was wrong. He was spooked.

Sophie felt Jeff tighten his grip on her armored hand. She leveled her pistol into the darkness, scanning the passage from side to side.