The Dark Trinity (Book 1): Shuffle (7 page)

"Sir, we have collision! I repeat, we have
collision!" the newbie yelled.

"No shit, Sherlock. Neil, get the fucking FAA on the
phone! I don't care how many dicks you have to suck, you get them on the line!
Tim, make the call to FEMA, we need emergency aid on-site yesterday!"
Blake issued the orders while fixing his gaze on the burning, falling wreckage
of the two planes that had hit each other. Another noise caught his attention.
He turned and stared down runway 33R to see a 747 belly-flop onto the asphalt,
the landing gears never making it out of the gear bays. Sparks flew as the jet
scraped along, igniting the engines, blowing the wings clear off. A gust of
fire billowed out behind the craft, but the body of the plane remained intact.
It screeched to a halt a mere fifty feet from the tarmac, flames burning where
the wings used to be.

Another explosion rocked the tower, as a smaller 737 seemed
to have just dropped from the sky, landing close to the ATCT. Acrid smoke from
the burning jet fuel rose up and blew towards the tower, enveloping it in a
blanket of darkness, obscuring all view of the runways.

"I need answers people and I need them now!" Blake
demanded. His patience was out and his nerve was wavering. This couldn't be
happening. But it was. It was real. Not a dream. Not a nightmare.

Neil approached Blake and placed his hand upon his shoulder.
"Sir, you're gonna want to take a look at this."

They walked over to Neil's station, the radar screen
depicting a frightening scene. Blips on the screen moving and then
disappearing. "Sir, I've been taking a look at the aircraft that have
crashed, as well as those that have issued distress calls," Neil
explained. "It turns out that every flight is an international flight; all
coming into the country."

"You're sayin' that there isn't a single domestic on the
list?" Blake could taste the bile in his stomach rise into his throat.
Could
this be a terrorist attack?

"Affirmative, sir. All in-bound flights in distress
originated from Heathrow, Frankfurt, Dublin, and Charles de Gaulle." Neil
was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he was having trouble dealing
with the worst air travel disaster in history.

More explosions sounded outside. Some close, too close in
fact, and some which sounded farther in the distance. Another glance at the
radar confirmed Blake's fears, as more digital triangles disappeared from the
screen. He looked out the large windows and tried to peer through the thick
smoke which was still gusting around the tower. Finally the wind shifted and
the smoke began to move away.

Blake had wished the smoke had stayed. It would have spared
him the horror which he now surveyed. It looked like a war zone. Planes, or at
least the remnants of planes, were strewn over every runway. Some hadn't
crashed, but sustained damage from the crafts that had. Fires burned
everywhere, casting bright orange light and thick toxic smoke into the air.

"My God," Blake whispered, but there was no God
there today. As he looked on he could see movement around many of the wreckage.
At first he thought they were the airport emergency crews, but a closer look
told him otherwise. Crews would have been wearing reflective, yellow emergency
gear, but these people weren't wearing any of that. They also weren't moving
towards the wreckage, they were moving away from the mangled metal. They were
pouring out of the various ruins like rats from a sewer, running full tilt.

The scariest part was that the majority of them were
completely ablaze, running full speed towards the airport. They weren't slowing
down, or stopping, or dying. They kept coming. Those who weren't on fire
followed the roasting survivors. Through the noise of the distant explosions
and commotion in the ATCT, Blake could hear an unholy, collective inhuman
scream.

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

Melissa stood crying. She was so excited to fly in a plane,
but she didn't want to fly anymore. Not after all the planes fell from the sky.
Her daddy was dead and she was alone. Who was going to take care of her? Was
she going to go live with Mommy? She heard screams coming from outside. Not
screams of pain, but something more menacing. Scary screams.

She turned towards the open windows, the cold air whooshing
in past the shards of glass that were still lodged into the window frame. She
inched her way towards the window. Her feet crunched on the glass below her
feet. She stopped and gazed at the hell outside. Melissa clutched her teddy to
her chest. She felt warm urine run down her leg as fear paralyzed her.

A white, clawed hand grasped the jagged window sill, pulling
up a monster into the open window. Melissa gasped, losing her breath as it knotted
in her throat, preventing her from screaming. The monster distended its jaw
wide. A thick black vapor escaped the hideous creature and sped towards her.
I'll
see you soon, Daddy,
she thought as the strange vapor consumed the little
girl.

CHAPTER 5
 
  THE
CLEANSING

Downtown Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
December 16, 2014

The snow had let up a bit, finally leveling out to a fine,
powder sugar that was floating to the ground. A nor'easter had hit the east
coast and now Pittsburgh was catching some of the effects from it. Two and a
half feet of snow had dumped down onto the city. The road crews had been
working all evening, but the various roadways into the city were still
treacherous. This was a good thing, as the vast majority of commuters had opted
to take a self-proclaimed snow day and stay in. To make matters worse, a second
Arctic storm was culminating to the north and was due to dump more snowfall
onto the Three Rivers within the next day or so. Despite the weather, the
downtown streets were still busy, since the trolleys were still running.

Nathan Ackland drudged through the dirty slush that plagued
the city sidewalks, trying not to slip at each intersection as he headed to
lunch. Sirens blared in the distance as he made his way up Smithfield Street,
then up Seventh Avenue towards Grant Street. He glanced at his watch. The
digital face showed 2:00 pm. Seems like those sirens have been going all day,
he thought as he waited for a bus to drive by. All morning he could hear police
and ambulance sirens moving past the office building where he worked as a web
designer.

When he arrived at work that morning, the large video wall
displayed breaking news on CNN instead of the animated agency logo. His
colleagues gathered around, captivated by stories of the air catastrophes that
had occurred in some of the larger cities on the east coast. Dozens of planes
had crashed in New York, Boston, Charlotte, and even one at Pittsburgh. He
remembered hearing something about the crash at Pittsburgh International this morning
on the local news before he headed for work. He rushed to get ready for work
and only caught bits and pieces of the story as he drifted in and out of the
room.

The staff glued themselves to the news for most of the day.
Nate had went to his desk to try to get some work done, since he was well
behind schedule on one of his bigger projects. Although his intentions were
good, he wasn't able to get anything done. Instead, he just sat and stared at
the twenty-seven inch Mac on his desk and thought about the horrible news that
CNN, and now his co-workers, regurgitated.

Already the media placed the events in the same echelon as
Pearl Harbor and 9/11 and had dominated all the social networks. The news
bombarded citizens with coverage of the crashes and the many riots that
continued throughout Europe. That's another thing he didn't quite get. A couple
days ago, news broke of riots in Russia, Paris, Munich, London, and several
other cities in Europe and Asia.

Conspiracy theorists were already hard at work trying to
convince the populace that every terrorist sleeper cell in the world had
activated. They claimed it was in retaliation for the various “freedom”
missions that the U.S. were waging. The plausibility of that was dubious at
best. With similar reports surfacing about disturbances along the east coast of
the U.S., Nathan started to wonder if the conspiracy nuts were all that crazy
after all.

He finally reached Grant Street, stopped to look both ways
and darted across the four lanes before the walk signal gave him the go. Sirens
blared throughout town as well as across the three rivers encircling downtown
proper. A smell wafted towards him and enveloped him in a warm, soothing
embrace; drowning out the sirens. Hot dogs.

The hot dog stand stood within a large nook in the wide
sidewalk across from the Omni-William Penn Hotel. A large awning extended out
and allowed a little shelter while patrons waited for the best dogs in the
'Burgh. The depressing news that flooded the media hadn't put a damper on
anyone's appetite, as the line was now about nine people deep.

The Dog Shack belonged to one Ronnie Manguba. A native of Ft.
Lauderdale, Florida, this Filipino-Scottish character migrated to the ‘Burgh
about five years ago. He moved into the apartment below Nathan and his fiance
Evelyn and became best friends with them immediately. Ronnie bought the hot dog
stand off of an old Greek woman for peanuts. Soon after, he had transformed the
former gyro stand into the hottest thing in Pittsburgh since Sidney Crosby
signed with the Penguins. The “Shack” was so popular, that it stayed open in
even the most inclement weather. Nathan was still surprised at the fact that
there was always a line, even on days like today.

Nathan speed-walked to the Dog Shack and went straight to the
end of the line, hoping that it moved fast. His stomach growled in agreement.
It was a little odd that there were so many people in line this late in the
day. This was a late lunch even for Nathan. Finally, he reached the small
counter in front of the large open window.

"Yo, yo, yo, what's up Homie-G-Funk?" Ronnie as he
saw Nathan approach the window.

"Not too much buddy, just hungry as hell," replied
Nathan as he glanced down at the large sign that listed the day's
"special" hot dog. Ronnie followed the gaze and must have read the
expression upon Nathan’s face.

"Aw man, check it out, check it out, check it out, you
gotta dig on the special today, bro. My latest creation will make love to that
stomach of yours, I guarantee it!"

Nathan stared at the Special of the Day with a mix of
trepidation, fear and nausea. Szechuan-style General Tso's Pig-in-a-Wonton.
"What in the name of all that's holy is that?" Before he could get
the official explanation, he placed his usual order. "Never mind, I'll take
my usual. No offense, I just like what I like.”

If the Dog Shack had one flaw, it would be the daily
specials. Although gifted with boundless creativity, a touch of ADHD prevented
the scrappy frankfurter artisan from honing his craft. Except, that is, when it
came to processed meats jammed into a casing. His enthusiasm knew no bounds; he
melded the simplicity of a hot dog with more complex international culinary
ventures. The worst of which incorporated some type of sushi and what appeared
to be his version of vegetable tempura. Nathan had learned early on that the
specials, although creative, were rarely edible. The only people who ever dared
to eat them were usually the occasional tourist eager to taste the local
Pittsburgh fare.

Despite the obvious look of disappointment on his face,
Ronnie started piecing together the usual boring assembly of hot dog + bun +
ketchup + mustard + onions. Rejection was nothing new, although that didn't
deter him from trying to sway Nathan. As the Wizard of Wieners made his lunch,
Nathan’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He fished in his pants for a few
seconds and answered before it could go to voicemail.

"Hey sweetheart... No, I'm down at the Shack
having lunch." He had to plug his ear as four Pittsburgh police cruisers
flew by, sirens wailing. "No, I'm fine, just some cops driving by... I'd
love to come home, but I'm swamped at work. I gotta try to bang out some
initial site designs for the client meeting tomorrow... I should stay late
tonight too... Okay, okay, I'll come home at my usual time... Yes, I promise to
be safe... Yes, straight home, I promise... I love you, too, baby... Don't
worry hon, everything will be fine... Alright, buh-bye."

He hit the end call button and slid the phone back into his
pocket. When he turned around Ronnie was staring at the police scanner that sat
at the end of the counter behind the myriad of condiments. His outstretched
hand holding Nathan’s lunch. A look of seriousness had washed over his best
friend's face as he listened to the small radio. He couldn't discern what the
dispatcher was saying, but he could tell by Ronnie's uncharacteristic
expression that it wasn't good.

"Sorry 'bout that, Eve called, all worried about some
type of disturbance on the South Side."

Grabbing the huge foot-long dog from Ronnie's catatonic grasp
seemed to snap him back to reality.

"Huh, oh, right, no problem man. How’s Eve doing? She
okay?" he asked, turning the volume up on the scanner.

"Yeah, she’s fine. Just worried about all the stuff on
the news. What's going on?" Nathan mumbled, stuffing a good three inches
of his lunch into his mouth.

"Sounds like there's a huge riot going on right across
the river. The dispatcher's been sending all kinds of fuzz down that way."

Through the static Nathan could hear the dispatcher rattling
off various police codes and unit call-signs. He didn't understand a word of
it, but he was able to pick out a few key, important phrases.
Officers in
need of assistance, shots fired, officer down, SWAT units en-route,
and
ambulance and fire teams are on the way.

This caused him to stop mid-chew, mouth still stuffed with
dog. He and Ronnie looked at each other, not sure what to do or say next.
Finally, after an awkward silence, He choked down the remaining bits of lunch
that engorged his cheeks.

"Well, I'm not sure what the hell is going on across the
river, but I do know that I have a shit ton of work to finish up. If hell is
breaking loose, no doubt Eve will continue to hound me to leave ASAP,"
Nathan said, grabbing some napkins from the dispenser on the counter.

"Peace out homie, let me know when you leave work. Maybe
we could go check out the fun later," Ronnie said as he turned up the
police radio even louder, captivated by the steady flow of chatter.

"Yeah, we'll see," Nathan replied over his shoulder
as he began to hurry across the street.

He rushed back to the office to find his colleagues plastered
to the giant video wall. No one had moved from their various perches, taking
full advantage of the not-the-norm events to forego any semblance of productivity.
Great, looks like I'm the only one who remembers about the super duper über
important deadline tomorrow, he thought as he walked past the zombies staring
at the news.

For the next two and a half hours he immersed himself in the
job at hand. He jammed his Skullcandy ear buds into his ears and allowed Angels
and Airwaves to drown out the chaos. He took a moment to wipe away the fatigue
from his eyes, leaned back in towards his screen and continued to work at
record speed. Just before he was able to put the finishing touches on the new
web site designs, cries of panic sounded over the music blaring in his ears.

He stood up, removed his earphones and headed towards the
lobby, where all his colleagues stared out the large picture window opposite
the video wall. Some employees had bolted for the doors, leaving without a
word. Following the gazes, he looked out the window as well.

The weather had taken a downward turn; dark clouds rolled
over Mt. Washington, blotting out the remnants of daylight. Then he saw what
had thrown everyone in a tizzy. Across the river, explosions erupted at Station
Square and down East Carson Street, adding to fires that had already broken
out.

Time to go.

Nate was already out the door.