Clio and Cy: The Apocalypse (8 page)

“Women rescue men just as much as, if not more than, men
rescue women.”

― Criss Jami

South Carolina/North Carolina border:

Clio heard the steps walking closer. Sensing that whatever
they were attached to was standing next to the truck and looking at her.

“You ok, young lady?” Russ asked. It wasn’t fireworks she
heard, but rather, the sound of gunfire. Buried in her arms, she kept her face
down.

 
Clio thought she was
dreaming the voice until sounds of a barking dog fractured her nightmare into
glimmering splendor. Hope lifted her head and willingly turned it as she saw a
man’s face come into focus. Russ was weathered and covered in deep wrinkles,
but he was beautiful. No one had ever looked at him like Clio did in that
moment. Not even his wife.

“You want to hang out here or something?” Russ asked,
further pulling Clio to her senses.

Clio got up. “Come on,” Russ said holding his hand out. “I
got you.”

Clio took his hand and Russ wrapped his arm around her,
lifting her out of the truck bed.

“Thank you,” Clio said looking down at her depleted photon
pistol.

Russ looked down at her weapon and saw the indicator
blinking red. “Ran out of juice huh?”

Tears streamed down Clio’s face. “Yes,” she answered,
looking back at him.

“Don’t worry… I got plenty,” Russ said smacking his rifle.
“You’re ok now, you’re with me.”

Believing him, Clio began to hyperventilate. The emotional
relief from trauma caused her body to jerk in a few sobs before she mustered
enough strength to stop her display. She steadied her nerves and carried on
like a soldier.

“Where are we going?” Clio asked, sniffling.

“I live close… just a few miles this way,” Russ said pointing
with his rifle.

Clio wore a dejected face and looked at the thick forest
that covered over the highway. “Through there?”

“Ain’t no other way,” Russ answered.

Lady pressed her cold nose against Clio’s hand and playfully
begged for the girl’s attention. Clio patted the dog before squatting down and
giving in to her desire to dispense a full hug. She couldn’t help grinning as
the dog tickled her ear with wet licks. Her insides felt much different than
the expression on her face. The twelve-year-old was frazzled.

After hurrying back to Russ’s side, Clio looked up at the
sun. “Will we make it before dark?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Clio responded as they entered the tree line.

Russ looked down at Clio with a puzzled expression. “What
are you doing out here all alone, young lady?”

“I don’t know…”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

Clio thought about her mother. The most she had since before
leaving the shelter vault. “I was at home and… there was sirens…”

“Where’s home?” Russ asked, looking up as if it might be in the
heavens.

“RMB… I live on base with my mother… lived…”

“I see… Where’s your dad?”

“He’s fighting in the war,” Clio answered.

Russ instantly liked the young girl; especially knowing her
dad was fighting for what was left.

“He must be a brave man,” was all he could think to say.

Clio nodded her head up and down. “Yes, he’s very brave… I
miss them both,” she said as tears streamed down her face again.

“It’s alright… We’ll try and find them later… try and relax
ok,” Russ said, hiding what he was thinking.
They’re probably both dead…

“You will? You’ll help me find them?” Clio asked.

Russ nodded. “First things first though… We need to get back
to the house and get you fixed up. That’s a nice cut you got there.”

“Ok,” Clio answered, looking at her arm. “Don’t remember how
I got it.”

“You hungry, young lady?”

“I am a little… got some protein bars… here in my ruck,”
Clio said, pointing her thumb over her shoulder.

“Grabbed that stuff on your way out did ya?”

“Yes…”

“Smart… Your daddy taught you how to use that?” Russ asked
looking at her pistol.

“Yeah… sort of…”

“Damn smart… I always thought it was a good idea to show
kids how to handle themselves.”

“That’s what my Dad says too.”

“Brave and smart… I like your Dad already.”

The afternoon still had several hours of light left and Clio
felt its heat between each of her warm breaths. A welcomed breeze danced across
her skin as they came out to a clearing. They’d made it through the patch of
forest and stood at the edge of the highway where it picked back up.

“Come on,” Russ ordered.

Twenty, maybe thirty cars littered the road as if the world
had stopped during rush hour traffic. It wasn’t rush hour when the attack
happened in this little neck of rural America, but, rather, a mass exodus. Two
Ker fired on the motorists at 2:47PM Eastern Standard Time. A group of people
believed rumors that the war was only in isolated pockets, trying to make it to
Georgia where things were supposedly… normal.

Clio noticed burn marks cut through the vehicles. Ker rounds
left charcoal colored streaks over the paint, rusting along their jagged edges.
After looking inside the cars, Clio witnessed human bones that resembled
Halloween decorations. One particular vehicle had skeleton hands broken off at
the wrists, still attached to the steering wheel.

“A couple miles through the woods and we’re home free,” Russ
said veering off the road and into the brush.

Clio nodded. “Ok.” She felt ill at the thought of having to
go through the woods again though.

“You gunna make it young lady?” Russ asked.

Clio ignored his question and asked one of her own. “Did you
see the one you killed by the truck?”

“Had to see it to kill it,” Russ said, sensing that she was
referring to something specific.

Clio shivered. “It was huge… It was different than the other
ones I saw…”

“Hell… seen bigger,” Russ, confirmed.

“Bigger?”

“Lot bigger… goddamn things…”

“How much bigger?”

“Hell… I don’t know… at least two feet taller… meaner and
heavier too,” Russ explained, holding his arms out. Clio shivered again at the
thought of something bigger than the last one she encountered.

The Husky stopped and Russ held his hand out to halt Clio.
Lady growled and hunkered down low, with her hair standing on end. Russ paused,
searching the woods.

“What is it?” Clio whispered.

“Get down,” Russ ordered, grabbing Clio and forcing her to
the ground.

Snapping his fingers, Russ signaled for Lady to come closer.
He grabbed the K-9 and crawled behind an abandoned refrigerator lying on its
side. Clio followed them on her belly.

Lady growled in a threatening rumble. “Quiet Lady,” Russ
softly demanded, grabbing his dog by the scruff of her neck. Lady obeyed. The
well-trained dog remained still, staring up with her eyeballs darting back and
forth.

Suddenly, they came into focus. Clio saw two flesh eaters
squaring off at each other. Toe-to-toe, they were preparing to fight.
That’s what he’s talking about
, Clio
thought as she noticed the disproportionate size of one beast.
It’s almost nine or maybe ten feet tall,
she thought. Like an evil comic book villain come to life, its muscle mass was
grotesque.

Their stench filled Clio’s nostrils and their hissing sounds
caused her skin to go pasty white.

“Keep a hold of her,” Russ said to Clio, whispering as he
aimed his weapon.

Clio stroked Lady while praying the dog wouldn’t bark and
alert the creatures of their presence. Unknown to Clio, the creatures were
aware of her and her two new friends. The monsters, however, were too worried
about each other at the moment to care.

Both creatures were on a path to Clio and Russ when they
picked up each other’s scent. Their hunt for human flesh was soon turned into a
fight for survival. Monster vs, monster: Two of Dr. Pavlov’s creations were in
a standoff. One was a flesh-eating female from his first batch: The second
design was one of his favorites, a humungous bull male.

Clio and Russ heard something coming through the woods from
behind. A third creature appeared and went by as if it didn’t notice them
hiding behind the refrigerator.

A smaller male, the third creature was also from the
original batch. It was doing something different – it was learning – helping
one of its own. All of Dr. Pavlov’s creations started adapting. Evolving using
parts from their mammalian brains, they’d begun to come together in something
other than mating.

They began assisting each other for survival.

The female saw the small male coming to aid, to rescue her.
She stood erect with courage, paused, and then dropped low. Coiled and ready,
she sprang, launching an attack. She flew with exposed fangs and reached the
bull while still airborne. Snatched out of the air by the massive
bull
, it held the female by the throat
like a toy. The weaker beast kicked and clawed helplessly dangling off the
ground. The smaller male was running hard on all fours and almost there. Leaves
and dirt kicked up after the third combatant hurled its body and launched
skyward, clearing the distance of thirty feet, flying toward the fight. Like
the helpless female, it was snatched out of midair.

The
bull
held both
monsters by their throats and they shook and clawed to break free. Smelling
their pungent body odor, Clio held Lady while stroking her in fear. The smaller
creatures fought like wolverines caught in a bear trap. Their wicked sounds
bounced off the trees, clawing deep lacerations into the
bull’s
skin. If it was going to survive, the massive humanoid had
to let go of one creature.

The humungous
bull
threw
the small male through the air like a shot put. It flew like a ball of iron until
it hit the ground, rolling across the dirt. End over end, it tumbled like an
animal that’d fallen down a ledge.
Bull
focused its attack on the small female still in its clutches and slammed her to
the ground.
Bull
leaned in and bit,
violently shaking its head like it was bobbing for apples, ripping the female’s
throat out.

She was dead in seconds.

The small male regained its balance and came back fast,
charging and clawing over the dirt. It jumped and flew through the air with its
claws out and fangs exposed. Hitting a brick wall of flesh, it stopped in
midair, caught in the
bull’s
clutches.
Bull
held the creature up and wrapped
both of its paws around the smaller beast’s throat. Helpless, it clawed trying
to break free. The powerful
bull
squeezed and sunk its claws into the neck of its puny combatant, crushing
windpipe and breaking neck bones. Defeated, the lesser beast dangled limp.

The rogue
bull
looked over at Russ and Clio while still holding its dead victim a foot off the
ground. “SSSShhhhhaaaa!” It released the lifeless male
.
“SSSShhhhhaaaa!” Hissing again, it revealed the dark red inside
its mouth.

Russ held his breath and carefully aimed. He kept one eye
open and looked down his barrel as sweat dripped off his brow. Salt stung the
old man’s eyes and blurred his vision as
Bull
ran toward them, barreling in full attack mode.

The old man controlled his nerves and fired. “Crack!”

The beast stumbled and howled to a stop. It balled low on
the ground and grabbed the wound where the bullet pierced its skin below the
shoulder. After inspecting the blood covering its paw,
bull
stood erect. A strange sound floated across the distance; the
creature was sucking the blood off its palm while enjoying the taste. Its
tongue was visible as it licked in a slow line across its fingers.
Bull
dropped back down, coiling,
“SSSShhhhhaaaa!”

Russ rested on the fridge and fired at will and hit the
charging monster, causing it to stumble after each shot.
Bull’s
rush slowed to an off balanced jaunt after the fourth shot
entered its flesh. The beast was moving slow, but it was still coming. The old
man was ready.

Determined, Russ stood to his feet and aimed. “Crack – Crack
– Crack – Crack,” firing in rapid succession until the beast was crawling a few
feet away from them. “Crack!” it stopped after the old man put one through the
creature’s Saint Bernard-sized head.

“...the thing with brothers is, you're supposed to take turns
being the keeper. Sometimes you get to sit down and be the brother who is
kept.”

― Orson Scott Card

California:

RMB Pendleton:

RMB Jackson was destroyed, leaving California as the lone
Resistance Base. RMB Pendleton still had some fight left in her. Being only one
of two major bases that didn’t have Smartbots working onsite, they’d also had
the longest time for warning until impact. It was the only place in America
still putting out a worthy offense, as well.

The humanoids hadn’t made it that far west yet, but the Ker
had. Robots were on search and destroy missions and in the process of
eliminating the small pockets of Resistance groups that still remained. Once
the smaller pockets were mopped up, the last big hold out was next. Dr. Pavlov
would focus his force strength against RMB Pendleton. Ker alone, however, could
not finish the job. RMB Pendleton and her Marines were too heavily fortified.
He found that out the hard way.

Marines prepared for combat.

Lance Cpl. Jimmy Woolridge realized something for the first
time in his life. He was truly afraid, but more so, he realized that these
could be his last moments alive. Jimmy was afraid to die.

This wasn’t the first time he’d mustered with his platoon on
the tarmac, “the grinder,” as they called it. But this time was different.
Moments were ticking down and he waited to enter a deadly fight. He’d only
heard stories told by Marines after they came back from battle; Jimmy Woolridge
had never experienced live combat before. This was going to be his first real
fight against the Ker.

Those metal bastards were out there, waiting.

His idol must have gathered on this same grinder, just as he
was now.
Can’t believe he’s dead
,
Jimmy thought. Inside a body bag… that’s how his idol came back the last time
Marines from RMB Pendleton returned from battle.

Was he this scared
before he went to fight? Did he shake like this too?
He wondered looking
down at his trembling hands. All Lance Cpl. Jimmy Woolridge ever wanted was to
be like him, his idol - his brother. Feeling unsure, he wondered if he had what
it took. His mind raced to find the evidence that he deserved to stand next to
the men around him. Jimmy looked around at the Marines who waited on the
grinder with him. He was a Marine, the uniform said so but still, he wondered…

Bringing a film of tears to his eyes, Jimmy pulled out a
picture and rubbed his thumb over the image of two people. It was he and his
brother standing next to each other. Taken after he’d graduated from Marine
Corps Boot Camp in a small ceremony; it was his favorite photograph.

Every few seconds over the last six weeks; he thought of his
flesh and blood, SSGT Mark Woolridge. Now, he saw the picture as never before.
In that moment, Lance Cpl. Woolridge became proud;
Yes
,
I deserve to be here
…
I am like him… I’m going into battle with
my fellow Marines, my remaining brothers, like Mark would do… like he did…

Frightened or not,
deserve
had nothing to do with it; Lance Cpl. Jimmy Woolridge was going. Unlike his
brother; he wanted to come back from this fight standing under his own power.

They brought back pieces of him, which was all that was
left. A Ker ripped SSGT Woolridge’s limbs off and then caved his skull in after
stomping on his head. Jimmy would never forget what his brother looked like
when he saw him that day — a piece of flesh... For once, Jimmy was glad his
parents were dead so they didn’t have to experience seeing the remains of their
son. SSGT Mark Woolridge wasn’t even identifiable as human. After unzipping the
body bag, Jimmy looked away. He quickly zipped the bag closed, wishing that he
hadn’t looked.

An officer approached the grinder.

Captain Norman Banks was generally reserved. A powerful
leader who commanded respect, he spoke only when words were needed. The officer
was short and muscular and appeared more Gunnery SGT than officer brass. Capt.
Banks walked through the crowd of Marines and noticed Lance Cpl. Jimmy
Woolridge standing alone amongst the group. Coming up from behind, the officer
stopped when he got to his young Marine. He saw the picture Jimmy was holding
and thought what to say…

“You ready Devil Dog?” Capt. Banks asked, gently grabbing
his Lance Cpl. behind the neck.

Feeling the powerful yet caring grip of calloused fingers
below his hairline, Jimmy turned and looked at his commanding officer. Both men
glanced down at the picture. Knowing Capt. Banks witnessed Mark’s death, Jimmy
answered. “Yes sir.”

Feeling phony for saying it, the young Marine grappled his
nerves. Deserving to be here didn’t quell the fear that rose inside him. “Yes sir”
was a partial lie, but still the proper answer for a Marine to give before
going to war.

“I’m ready, sir,” Jimmy stated with more conviction the
second time.

Capt. Banks looked at his young Lance Cpl. “Good son… need
your head in the game,” he said through caring eyes.

“Roger that, sir,” Lance Cpl. Woolridge affirmed.

Capt. Banks left Jimmy’s side and walked onto a platform
amidst the sounds of nervous Marines and took his place on the podium.
Elevated, he scanned the group of men and paused... He swallowed and prepared
to address the platoon… The officer whistled loud and the chatter stopped in an
instant. All eyes turned toward the black officer, standing powerful in battle
fatigues.

“The Marines I have seen around the world have the cleanest
bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals of any
group of animals I have ever seen. Thank God for the United States Marine
Corps!”

― Eleanor Roosevelt

“This is it gentlemen! Who’s ready to do this!?”

The platoon shouted. “Ooh Rah!” It echoed in a wave through
the Captain’s ears.

“As most of you know, we’re heading south to Coronado. A
small group of Navy SEALs are surrounded and pinned down. Got to help out our
Navy brothers… Ooh Rah!”

Erupting, the entire platoon shouted again. “Ooh Rah!” Sharp
and fast, the response was like the precision march of a color guard.

Capt. Banks paced on the platform energized while looking
into the eyes of his Marines, shouting a chilling battle cry. “What makes the
grass grow!?”

“Blood! Blood! Blood!” the platoon wailed in an eerie chant,
each word blowing like a trumpet blast through the Captain’s face.

Officer Banks stopped and held his hands up with balled
fists, preparing to speak again. “Marines! We’re going to teach these Ker a
lesson! We’re going to melt their metal like rivers of blood!”

“Ooh Rah!” the platoon responded then broke off into
separate, competing conversations. “Waste those metal fuckers,” “Smash those
shit cans!” “Let’s tear ‘em up!”

Raising his hands, the Captain spread his fingers out to
quiet down the platoon. It fell silent again after a few straggling words
lingered in the California air.

The Captain held up two fingers and paused to assure all
eyes were on him before speaking again… “We’re going to hit the deck in two
squads. The SEALs are cut off by one main road at the mouth of their base…”

Captain Banks paused again before he spoke, stretching his
right arm out. “One squad’s going to cover the northeast of the street. The
other southwest,” he said, pointing his left, both arms stretched out as if an
invisible force was crucifying him. The officer pointed both hands toward the
Marines, pausing before bringing them back towards his chest. “The SEALs are
going to come up the middle. When they’re running for their lives, we’re going
to cover them from both sides,” he announced, pointing both arms out from his
sides again. “Roger that?” he shouted, loudly clapping his powerful mitts
together.

“Ooh Rah…” The Marines affirmed in a solid, yet gentler
response this time.

“Load up!” Capt. Banks ordered, twirling his pointed finger
high overhead.

The platoon boarded two McDonald Douglass Vulcan
helicopters. Jimmy thought of his brother and clutched the picture tightly as
it bent under the rotor wash while climbing inside. After kissing it, he
stuffed it deep in his left breast pocket and wedged between two Marines,
taking his seat. The men piled in and sat with their barrels resting on the
deck.

Both Vulcans lifted off.

Heading across Oceanside and Interstate-5, the war-birds
swooped over the Pacific Ocean. Half of the platoon saw the sprawling hills
through the porthole windows and the other half gazed at an endless blue ocean.

Fully armed, the helicopters raced down the coastline in
single file.

Jimmy shifted between fear and excitement. He wanted to
honor his brother. Although in the moments when his fear subsided, he wanted
revenge. They reached Coronado in a flash. Both war-birds jutted over the sea
before circling around to do a recon of the battered Navy SEAL Base.

Twisting in their seats, the platoon looked out of the
portholes while experiencing the g-forces of the banking Vulcans.
Jesus… look at it,
Jimmy thought. His
fellow Marines saw it too, their hearts pounding with excitement. Smoke was
coming up from the Coronado Golf course along with several other places. Fires
raged and smoldered, thick and black. Toxic molecules rose up over the edge of
Glorietta Bay.

Like death hanging in the air, the burning soot seemed to
look down at the SEAL’s compound.

The SEAL Base was a manmade peninsula that stuck out into
San Diego Bay like a rectangular concrete thumb. The surrounding water, ironic
as it was, prevented the SEALs from escaping. The SEALs could swim but two
things stopped them from doing so: they had a badly injured man, and the Ker
were waiting for them on any shore they might reach. The frogmen were trapped.
Fire raged from several of their boats that floated half-sunk in the water. Air
escape was impossible, too. On the helo pad near the water’s edge, a Sikorsky
UH-90 Night Hawk Helicopter sat in ruins; smoking, broken, and wilting like a
rubber bug.

Hearing the Marines flying overhead, the frogmen prepared
for extract. “That’s them,” Petty Officer Deines shouted from inside the SEAL’s
barracks. He ran outside and looked up… Seeing their saviors coming in hot, the
Petty Officer, one of the six remaining SEALs, popped a yellow smoke grenade.

Two Ker flanked around the edges of the peninsula and fired
potshots from behind the buildings. The sailors continued to hold the Ker at
bay
, only seeing the metal bastards for
a second when they’d pop their heads out to fire.

“Let’s move out!” Petty Officer Deines ordered.

Staying tight, the six-man SEAL Team left their barracks and
headed outside. They held off the flanking Ker by laying down suppressive fire
and ducking between the buildings of their smoldering base. Slower than normal,
the SEALs did their best while dragging an injured man.

The Devil Dogs came in hot. Their helicopters descended and
the Marines heard the sound of Navy SEAL gunfire growing louder. The frogmen’s
weapons competed with the Ker’s 30mm cannons and photon blasts sucking through
the air.