Final Dawn: Season 3 (The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Series) (8 page)

BOOK: Final Dawn: Season 3 (The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Series)
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Leonard McComb | Nancy Sims

12:28 PM, April 25, 2038

 

“Keep it up! They’re nearly all dead!”

 

Commander Krylov was kneeling behind his chair, looking down the sights of a rifle that he kept pointed at the one door that was left open to the command deck. Behind him, the rest of what remained of the Arkhangelsk’s crew stood in various positions, all brandishing weapons ranging from Makarovs to AK-74s. Every few seconds, a creature would dart past the open door, testing the crew’s defenses and reactions, trying to gain entry to the room and kill the last of the people on board.

 

A shot rang out from behind Krylov, who shouted at the man without bothering to turn his head. “Do not engage unless you have a sure shot!” Ammunition was beginning to run low, and Krylov wasn’t certain how many creatures were left on board. In the moments since the bridge had collapsed over the Arkhangelsk, Krylov had been shocked at how many creatures had gained entry to the submarine as well as how quickly they had swept through the ship, trying to kill anyone who stood in their way. His men had performed bravely, manually closing off hatches and activating emergency bulkhead seals that prevented the Arkhangelsk from completely flooding, though the vessel’s response was sluggish due to the amount of water she had taken on. More of the flooded areas would have been sealed off if not for the creatures, though, which nearly overwhelmed the small crew.

 

Quickly honing in on the retreating crew, the creatures had congregated around the command deck, which Krylov had the foresight to seal off, leaving one entrance intentionally open to try and keep the creatures busy with so that they wouldn’t go on a rampage through the rest of the ship. Seven creatures had died to hails of gunfire and one of the crew on the command deck had been injured so far after he got too close to one of the beasts that hadn’t been properly finished off.

 

Another creature ran past the open door, hooking its hand around the frame and swinging in, staying low to the ground to avoid being shot. Krylov tracked the creature with his rifle and fired several short bursts, sending all but two rounds directly into the creature’s side and chest. It collapsed to the floor, sliding several inches before coming to rest in front of a petrified crewman who it had been trying to reach, adding another body to the seven already lying just inside the door to the command deck.

 

Behind Krylov, the groan of a hatch lock being disengaged made him turn. A figure was visible through the small window in the door, though he couldn’t make out if it was human or one of the disfigured creatures. Another burst of gunfire came from one of the crewmen and a howl came from the corridor as another creature darted by slowly enough to take a few bullets in the side. The hatch on the opposite side of the room began to open and Krylov tightened his grip on his rifle as he prepared for an assault by the creatures from two directions.

 

“Don’t shoot!” Nancy stepped through the door with Leonard right behind her, leaning on her for support as he hopped over the threshold and began to pull the door closed behind him. Krylov lowered his rifle and looked at Nancy and Leonard with a stunned expression, shocked that they had survived long enough to make it to the command deck.

 

“Leonard! Nancy!” Krylov’s formal way of addressing the two had disappeared as his accent had grown stronger from the stress he was under. He glanced at Leonard’s hand and belt where he carried the empty pistol and the radio that he had taken from the equipment locker. Looking back at Leonard for a long moment, he weighed the option of giving the man another weapon.

 

“Can you shoot?” Krylov picked up a rifle from the floor and threw it at Leonard who caught it with one hand. He dropped down on his one knee and swung the upper half of his other leg around, sitting on a step near the back of the room with the rifle placed firmly against his shoulder.

 

“I can manage.”

 

Krylov nodded, relieved, then looked at Nancy. She held out her hands expectantly and Krylov threw her a rifle as well, raising an eyebrow in surprise. She caught his look and shrugged as she slid the bolt back and chambered a round. “Women don’t shoot in your country, Commander?”

 

The oddity of Nancy’s statement caught Krylov off guard and he laughed involuntarily as he turned around and resumed his watch on the door. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing, and was soon joined by Nancy, Leonard and a few nearby crewmen who had heard what she said as well. The laughter spreading on the command deck in the midst of the battle was infectious, and Krylov soon found himself wiping tears from his eyes as he struggled to keep focused on the open door.

 

When the last of the creatures assaulted the room, throwing themselves through the open door in a desperate attempt to kill the people inside, they were not met with fear but with laughter, focusing the attention of each person with a laser-like precision. The attention was accompanied by a hailstorm of bullets that tore through metal and flesh alike, destroying the creatures’ attempt in a few short seconds. The juxtaposition of conflicting emotions sat strongly with Leonard in particular, who was the first one to stand up and make his way toward the creatures’ bodies, hobbling along on his crutch.

 

Krylov stood up and joined Leonard, then Nancy, who took Leonard’s arm and placed it on her shoulder. The three stood with the crew behind them, staring at the mangled bodies of the creatures on the floor as their laughter gradually died out. Krylov cleared his throat and turned to his crew, smiling grimly at them.

 

“I think that’s the last of them. Get us a head count started, then get us moving again. Once we’re clear of this damned canal we’ll surface and take stock of the damage.”

 

The crew moved slowly at first, stepping gingerly over the creatures strewn across the floor until Krylov yelled, clearing the last of the happy mood from the air. “Get your asses moving
now!

 

Everyone, including Leonard and Nancy, jumped at Krylov’s order, and the crew broke into sprints, hurrying to their stations and down the hall to find missing crew and prepare to get the submarine moving again. Leonard held out his rifle to Krylov who looked at it and shook his head, pushing it away. “Keep it, Mr. McComb. We might need it again.”

 

Leonard and Nancy looked at each other and began moving toward a pair of vacant chairs. Krylov spoke again, raising his voice so that the crew left on the command deck could hear him. “Excellent work, by the way. Not just you two. Everyone. Now let’s get out of here, shall we?”

Andrey Lipov | Sergei Usov

Panama Canal Main Lock Control Room

12:42 PM, April 25, 2038

 

“If we get back to that ship, I’m never getting off again.”

 

Andrey snorted at Sergei’s comment as they watched the dark form of the Arkhangelsk move slowly forward through the open gates of the lock. The ship was submerged, but they could still see it as it passed through the water, clearing the lock gate and escaping the carnage that had surrounded it.

 

After the unexpected destruction of the bridge, Andrey and Sergei had watched nervously as the lock filled with water, hoping that no critical systems had been damaged by the explosions. Though the process took several minutes to complete, it eventually finished, and the lock’s water level was equalized with the river ahead of the ship. Andrey and Sergei had heard of the complete redesign of the canal (like most of the world), though they had never seen it in person. Neither had they imagined that the process of operating the single lock system would be so easy, making the multiple locks used previously look complicated compared to the current process.

 

Instead of refitting and reworking the existing locks, canal, and artificial lake, the new system actually involved a completely separate canal placed just a quarter of a mile from the old one. The twisting path of the old canal was discarded for a direct one, drawing a straight line through the land. Surprisingly, this was more cost-effective than attempting to enlarge and modernize the old canal, which is what most people had assumed would happen before the final engineering plans were made public.

 

Automated in ways that the old canal was not, the new construction consisted of two massive locks, each capable of holding supertankers whose size dwarfed that of the Arkhangelsk. In between the locks was a canal wide enough for ten of the supertankers to fit side by side, a distance calculated to be both cost effective and most efficient given a study of the current ocean traffic at the time and planning at least seventy-five years into the future.

 

The two locks were closer to the center of the canal than the ends, and once a ship or group of ships entered one, the control room operator would activate the lock by simply pressing a single button. The lock would close, fill with water to equalize the height with that of the interior canal, then it would open, allowing the vessels inside it to proceed through the canal. At the same time, the lock at the opposite end was closed and equalized as well, through a completely automatic process that required no operator assistance. Because of the timing of the opening and closing of the locks, vessels larger than individual or family-sized craft had to register their passage at least two hours in advance to be guaranteed a slot on the schedule. If, for some reason, a vessel encountered engine or other troubles while traversing the distance between the locks, there was enough room for it to remain for some time for repairs without it interfering with the passage of other ships.

 

Though the project was initially seen as a vast waste of resources, the benefits it provided were recognized within the first three months of its service. Supertankers previously relegated to sailing around the southern tip of South America were able to pass through the canal for the first time, shaving weeks off of their travel schedules and enabling more goods to be transported across the world faster than was possible with the old canal.

 

“So what now?” Andrey was looking down the ladder at the canal where they had come from, shaking his head. The only other exit from the control room was a winding staircase out the other side which ended near the road leading to the bridge that, until a short time ago, had been swarming with creatures. Peeking out the door leading to the staircase, Andrey could see that there were still creatures milling around the edge of the bridge, staring at their compatriots on the southern side of the canal who could no longer go north from their current location.

 

Sergei stood and watched the creatures with Andrey, his finger rubbing nervously on the trigger guard of his rifle. “We wait them out. What other choice do we have?”

 

Andrey’s shoulders slumped and he rested his head against the wall of the control room, sweat pouring down his face and neck. “Then I guess we won’t make it back, will we?”

 

The older of the two cousins, Sergei looked at Andrey in pity, wishing that he could somehow save them. Going through their equipment inventory in his mind, his eyes started to dart back and forth as the seed of an idea began to blossom. He pulled his pack off of his back and knelt down in front of it, rifling through the contents until he found what he was looking for. Sergei pulled a set of three grenades out and held them up for Andrey, who took them, holding them at arm’s length.

 

“What are you thinking?”

 

Sergei ignored Andrey’s question and pulled out his radio, tuning it to the frequency that the Arkhangelsk was listening on and depressed the microphone button. “Arkhangelsk, this is Usov. Come in, Commander.” A burst of static came back and Sergei quickly turned the speaker volume down. Andrey glanced down the staircase to see if the creatures had heard the noise, but if they did, they showed no signs of caring one way or the other.

 

“Arkhangelsk, come in!” Sergei hissed, trying to keep his voice low and the panic from rising in his throat. “Respond, damn it!”

 

Another burst of static was cut off, replaced by the sound of a hand fumbling with a microphone before a voice came through. “Krylov here. How the hell are you still alive, Usov?”

 

Sergei grinned and responded, his eyes locked with Andrey’s as he spoke. “Commander, Lipov and myself both made it. We’re stuck in the control room, but we may have a way out. Do you have a way to get us back on board if we can make it to the second lock?”

 


Shit.
” Krylov thought quickly estimating how much time it would take for them to reach the second lock, and how much he could spare before they had to pass through it and place explosives on the third bridge. Doing so meant that they would have to open the second hatch to the deck of the submarine, assuming the port section wasn’t flooded like the starboard, and that they didn’t have any more unwelcome guests on board to contend with.

 

Shit, shit, shit!
Krylov had the presence of mind to keep further repetitions of the word to himself as he juggled the logistics in his mind, finally coming to a decision.

 

“You have thirty minutes to get yourselves in the water past the second lock’s far gates. After that, we have to get to the last bridge and then get the hell to open water to assess our damage.”

 

Andrey and Sergei’s faces both paled as they looked out the window of the control room, seeing the second lock far in the distance. Even without having to deal with the creatures, running from the first lock to the second would scarcely be possible, though as their only choice left, they had no other options.

 

“We’ll be there. Usov out.”

 

 

BOOK: Final Dawn: Season 3 (The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Series)
5.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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