Orbs (12 page)

“Timothy. You have family, right?” Sophie said. “A brother you're close with?”

The programmer's animated face suddenly reverted to the unemotional one everyone was used to seeing. “What does Casey have to do with this?”

“He could have survived, just like Owen,” Sophie lied. She knew the chances were slim, but she had to convince her team that it was worth leaving the safety of the Biosphere. If finding the beacon wasn't reason enough, maybe human life would be.

“We have to save everyone that we can,” Sophie said confidently. She scanned the room again. It was time to take a vote.

“We're all in this together now, and I believe everyone should have a voice. As team lead, I'm putting this to a vote. Those that think we should travel to the coordinates and look for survivors along the way, raise your hand.”

“I
strongly
object,” Emanuel said.

Sophie had had a feeling she would lose him on this one. After all, Emanuel was a man who required evidence; a signal and the possibility of finding survivors was simply not enough to warrant a yes vote from him. Surprisingly, though, the rest of the room was filled with raised hands. Even Holly, who was looking at the floor sheepishly, had her arm in the air.

“It's settled, then,” she said putting her hand on her hips.

Emanuel shot Sophie a look from the corner and managed a smile. He knew at this point nothing he could say would convince her to stay. All he could do was mouth “Be careful” before he limped into the hallway and disappeared.

Overton's rough voice distracted Sophie, and she forgot Emanuel for the moment. “Gear up, Marines. We have a job to do!”

Sophie smiled. She was beginning to like the sergeant.

Biome 4 was full of commotion. Finley and Bouma scurried about, packing up last-minute gear and grabbing freeze-dried meals and bottled water from the kitchen.

“You don't have to come with us, Dr. Winston. It's much safer if you stay here,” Sergeant Overton said, jamming a magazine into his pulse rifle.

“With all due respect, sir, I'm not the type to sit back and watch. I didn't get to where I am today in my career by taking the backseat.”

Overton smiled. He liked that about her; it was something they had in common. But he couldn't chance bringing her back into Colorado Springs. She would be a liability.

“I'm sorry, but we can't risk losing you.”

Sophie sighed, and tried not to notice Emanuel eavesdropping from a corner near the kitchen. He'd wanted to see the Marines off before they left, and had managed to do so without his wheelchair. His skin had regained some of its pigment, and his eyes were brighter. He was healing more quickly than Sophie had predicted. But although she appreciated their concern, she didn't need him or Sergeant Overton looking after her; she could handle herself.

“If you and your men want a base to return to, then I'm coming with,” Sophie said, offering the ultimatum in her business voice. She'd pitched enough grants in her career to know the exact tone her opponents just couldn't refuse. “Besides, if this signal is coming from NTC, then I'm your best link to any sort of rescue.”

“Have it your way, Doc, but if you put my men's lives in jeopardy, I won't hesitate in booting your ass to the curb and leaving you behind.”

“Deal,” Sophie said. “We leave at dusk.”

Sergeant Overton retrieved a cigarette from his chest pocket and wedged it between his dry lips. He went to light it when Alexia's voice sounded over the com system.

“Sergeant Overton, this is a nonsmoking facility.”

Damned artificial intelligence.

His nostrils flared as he put the cigarette back and threw the strap of his rifle over his back. “Women robots,” he muttered. Worse than women, and almost as bad as kids.

CHAPTER 15

I
T
wasn't that Sophie was afraid to die. She just really didn't want to.

Being a scientist, she knew the possibility of life after death was slim to none. She believed in what she observed, utilizing the evidence provided to her, and there simply wasn't any data on heaven. Religion had never appealed to her, because it required her to believe in something that replaced evidence with faith. But there had been times in her life where she could recall praying. Not necessarily to a specific deity, but to something—anything—that might be listening. The first time was during the solar storms of 2055. The second was when she thought she was carrying Emanuel's child. The third was now.

She stared out the window of the ancient Jeep Wrangler that Sergeant Overton and his men had commandeered from the decommissioned garage of the air force bunker. It had been protected by the thick granite roof of the facility, and besides a leaky fuel line and an aged muffler, it was in pretty decent shape.

By the time they hit the gravel road, she had already given up on finding the right words for a prayer. It was mostly pointless anyway. What good would praying do? It wasn't like anyone was listening. And even if God did have an ear to the ground, there was no way she could bring herself to believe that He would intervene on her behalf. Where would the justice be in that, when so many others had suffered and perished? It was all so confusing. Another reason she preferred lab experiments over Sunday mass.

Overton killed the lights as he steered the Jeep onto Highway 115.
He didn't want to attract any unwanted attention, and while driving in the dim light wasn't the safest option, it beat trekking on foot in the dark. Besides, he had been trained to drive in similar situations—although that training was more than two decades old.

“Keep sharp,” he said over the com. “I don't want any surprises.”

The dark blacktop was littered with empty vehicles, sending a chill down his spine. The scene was reminiscent of his time in Puerto Rico, when the Spanish had sent Special Forces in to take the island back. He was with one of the first Marine units to land on the beach. San Juan had been hastily evacuated, cars abandoned everywhere. Mike, his best friend, had taken a sniper's bullet to the eye before his squad had a chance to set up a forward operating base. He realized with a jolt that his oldest boy was now the age Mikey had been when he died.

Get your head in the game, Marine, and remember your own rule. Don't let outside distractions affect your mission.

He shook his head, straining to make out the shapes of the vehicles in the faint light. The sun was slowly disappearing over the horizon, and they only had minutes of daylight left. He would then be forced to utilize his night vision goggles, which was nothing but a pain in the ass.

“Shit,” he whispered, steering the Jeep around another pair of sedans and up a hill. The truck moaned, the muffler spitting trails of black smoke into the air as it crept down the highway.

Overton massaged the brakes and eased the vehicle to a stop. A shadow shot across the blacktop ahead. He balled his hand into a fist and watched as a single crow extended its wings and took off into the sky. Something had scared the bird, and he was pretty sure it wasn't them. He scanned the skyline for drones, but it was empty, with only the faint hint of crimson on a stray cloud creeping across the horizon.

Sophie fidgeted in the backseat, gripping the pistol Overton had given her. She could feel her heart thumping, faster and faster, as they waited. For a second she regretted coming with the Marines, but she quickly disregarded the feeling and sucked in a deep breath. If there were survivors out there, she was going to help find them.

“All clear,” Finley said from the passenger seat, scanning the road with his infrared scope.

The tires began to roll and the engine groaned as Overton slowly pressed down on the gas. Sophie watched the top of the hill come into focus. A large semitrailer was parked sideways, blocking the road.

“Can you go around it?” Bouma whispered into the com.

“Negative. The shoulder is too narrow to attempt that sort of maneuver. Could break an axle. Looks like we will have to continue to the coordinates on foot,” Overton replied, killing the engine and turning to look at Sophie. “Stay close and don't talk unless it's absolutely vital. Life-and-death kind of shit.”

She nodded and opened her door, stepping out onto the concrete. Her first instinct was to take off running toward the semi, anxious to see what was over the hill, but she refrained. At the Biosphere she was boss, but out here she yielded command to Overton.

With every step the knot in Sophie's stomach grew. She wondered if the Marines felt it too, but she knew Overton probably didn't. He was one of those career military guys. The combination of his broad shoulders, defined biceps, tribal tattoos, scars, and rough voice was enough to intimidate virtually anyone. And while Sophie thought it would make her feel safer, it really didn't. They weren't at war with Texas anymore. This wasn't a war against other men and women. This was a fight against an extraterrestrial life-form that had the technology to travel across light years of space. As much as she wanted to believe in Overton's tough act, she knew there wasn't going to be a war—“war” implied two sides that had a pretty equal chance of winning. There would be no such thing against the Organics. All they could hope to do was survive.

“Cover our six, Bouma,” Overton ordered.

The sergeant raced past Sophie, taking point at a brisk pace. The darkness quickly consumed him as he disappeared into the night, the matte black of his armor camouflaging his movements.

At first Overton had been reluctant to accept the suit from Sophie, but now he was glad he had. For some reason the empty streets made him feel exposed and naked. His eyes darted to the sky, scanning it for drones, and then back to the street for contacts.

Still nothing.

He pushed on, his head bobbling with every step. By the time he reached the top of the hill he was breathless. Years of smoking had finally caught up to him. Taking one knee, he craned his neck and glanced under the belly of the semitrailer. What he saw took his breath away for the second time, prompting him to scoot backward.

He caught his labored breath and slipped his helmet off, resting it quietly on the ground beside him. This was something he had to see with his own eyes, not from behind the protection of his glass visor.

Dropping to his stomach, he crawled back to the edge of the truck and squinted. About a half a klick away, a cluster of what had to be thousands of orbs floated over a parking lot. And swallowing them was a luminous worm-like creature that stretched the length of the semitrailer he was hiding behind.

A burst of static over the com startled Overton, but not enough to pull his gaze from the scene below. He watched the creature inch across the concrete, leaving a trail of blue goo in its wake. It had no eyes and no face, but as it opened its mouth to swallow another orb, he saw it did have teeth. Hundreds of them, protruding out of its circular jaws like Bouma's crooked overbite. With one swift motion, the worm slugged forward, consuming another glowing globe in one bite.

The round lump passed through the length of the creature's translucent blue body before stopping in its tail, where it seemed to dissolve. What came next was enough to make Overton's veteran stomach lurch—a belch, and then a violent vibration through the creature's body as it shot a ray of mist into the sky before finally coughing up the remains of the orb's former occupant. From his vantage point Overton could hardly make out the contents, especially in the dark, but the faint blue glow from the creature's body was just enough to illuminate a sack of human skin.

“What the hell is that?” a voice asked over the com.

Overton finally pulled away from the view and turned to see his own reflection in Finley's mirrored visor. For the first time in days, he saw how aged his face had become. Deep wrinkles stretched across his forehead, snaking beneath his receding hairline. His eyes appeared dull and lackluster.

“Sir, what is that . . . thing?” Finley repeated.

Overton pulled himself away from his reflection and turned back to the grotesque alien below. He ignored Finley's question, and failed to discipline him for breaking radio silence, which was now a moot point.

Below, the creature was digesting another one of the orbs, slithering its way across the parking lot.

“Dr. Winston, get up here,” he growled over the com. “You ever seen anything like that?” he asked, pointing with the charcoal barrel of his pulse rifle.

Sophie gasped, blinking several times to ensure her brain was, in fact, comprehending what her eyes were seeing. “It appears to have the same surface composition as the drones.” She crawled farther under the belly of the truck, straining her neck to get a better view. “Looks like it's feeding.”

Another short burst of static broke over the com. “All clear at the rear, request permission to advance,” Bouma said.

Overton slipped his helmet back over his shaved head. “Negative, stay put. We may need to leave in a hurry.”

“Do you think that's
them
, Dr. Winston?” Finley asked.

Sophie continued to stare, her lips agape, before finally managing a nod.

“I'm not risking a trip on the highway past that thing,” Overton whispered. “We need to find an alternate route. Something more discreet.”

“For all we know, those things could be everywhere,” Finley replied.

Overton crouched and pulled out a tiny black tablet from his side pack. “All the more reason to avoid them by finding a different route,” he said staring at the blue screen. The GPS device fed into his HUD through a wireless link, but whatever had caused the massive communication failure had also effectively killed the wireless connection.

He cursed and put the device away, pulling out a small map of the area from his pouch with the coordinates highlighted in red ink. “Looks like we have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“But—” Finley began to protest.

Overton craned his head in the Marine's direction. “I don't want to hear any excuses. This isn't a democracy—”

“Guys. Check this out!” Sophie interrupted.

“Keep it down,” Overton fired back before crawling over next to her.

“There. At one o'clock,” Sophie said pointing into the darkness. “I see a heat signature that's smaller than the others.”

Overton swiped a button on the side of his scope, and a small targeting system popped up on his HUD. He clenched the rifle between his shoulder and chin and aimed it in the direction Sophie had pointed. Sure enough, a small heat signature emerged on his display. He zoomed in, and staring back at him was the face of a little girl, slightly older than Owen. She was hiding behind a Dumpster at the edge of the parking lot. And heading right for her was the massive worm.

“Fuck,” he said, dropping his head toward the concrete. It was just what he had been afraid of—a kid in the middle of this muck. Somehow children always found a way to position themselves directly in harm's way; it was another reason he didn't care much for them. They ended up being a liability. But he would be damned if this oversized snake would eat her as a midnight snack.

“What do you see?” Sophie asked.

“A kid.”

“What do we do?” she asked, struggling to get a better look.

“The exact opposite of what your buddy Timothy would do.”

Sophie smiled and watched Overton flip the safety on his rifle off.

“Let's see if I'm as fast as I used to be,” he said. “Finley, watch the doctor. Bouma, if I'm not back in thirty minutes, proceed to these coordinates,” he said, handing the corporal the map and a compass from his pouch.

“Good luck,” Sophie said, as she watched Overton crawl under the semi and disappear into the darkness.