Orbs (8 page)

Sophie reached up for her helmet and unfastened the two metal clips, pulling it slowly off over her head.

“What are you doing?” Emanuel cried, rushing over to her.

“Uh, you guys are going to want to see this with your own eyes,” she said, frozen in awe.

Saafi and Emanuel quickly took off their own masks, and gasped. In the distance there were thousands of glowing blue orbs scattered throughout the city, glittering like diamonds.

Saafi coughed nervously into his gloved hand. “What are they?”

“I have no idea, but we're going to find out,” Sophie said. “And . . .” she paused to survey the tarmac again. “And that's going to be our ride,” she said, pointing to one of the remaining black Humvees. “Saafi, I hope you remember how to hotwire a government vehicle.”

“It would be my pleasure, Doctor,” he said with a grin. “Just don't tell NTC when they return.”

The words echoed in her helmet. In the pit of her stomach, she felt a knot growing. It told her that NTC would not be returning. Her team was on its own.

CHAPTER 10

S
ERGEANT
Ash Overton twirled a razor-sharp throwing knife between his fingers, still remarkably fast despite being plagued with severe arthritis. A tribal tattoo followed the bulge of his veins from the bottom of his right bicep upward and disappeared under his rolled up sleeve. He studied the wall of monitors and screens, trying to piece together what was happening. But no matter how hard he tried, nothing made sense.

Behind him, Private Eric Finley fidgeted with his plasma rifle, trying unsuccessfully to remove a jammed magazine of blue pulse rounds. He placed the weapon on a metal bench and ran his hand through his blond hair. His fingers hit a bald spot, and he went back over it again to feel if he'd lost any more.

“Damn,” he said under his breath. He was only eighteen, but had the hairline of a man twice his age.

To Overton's eyes, the Marine was nothing more than a boy—a boy forced to join the military after losing a college wrestling scholarship to a blown knee. Studying the young man's face, Overton decided it was a good thing. His oversized ears probably wouldn't be able to tolerate much more wrestling.

The sergeant rolled his chair back to the monitors and took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling the toxic fumes through his nose. An assortment of old data crawled across the screen from Department of Defense facilities around the world. The computer was running on an ancient analog system, which didn't surprise him considering the age
of the facility.

He sighed and reached for another cigarette, jamming it between his lips as he fiddled with an old radio. Behind him an automatic door screeched open, and Overton spun in his chair to see the lean frame of Corporal Chad Bouma slide through. The young Marine grinned, showing every one of his crooked teeth.

“Got the generator to work,” he said, his gaunt face beaming with pride.

“Excellent work, Bouma. It only took you two hours,” Overton replied sarcastically.

They had been separated from the rest of his team for over twenty-four hours, losing contact minutes after the three of them entered the facility two hundred feet underground and the blast doors had sealed them in. What was meant to be a quick recon mission to retrieve a fifty-year-old disc had turned into a boring slumber party with two of his most inexperienced men.

A chirp from the radio startled Overton, and he returned his attention to the hunk of metal in front of him. He fumbled with a cord, slipping the head into the jack and the bud into his left ear. With the flip of a switch, the radio blared to life. The sound of voices was eerie, especially after being in the dark for so long. But that wasn't the only odd thing. Overton hadn't heard anyone use an analog radio for years, which meant whatever had happened outside had knocked out more than just the internet—it had knocked out modern communications. The thought sent a shudder down his spine.

He exhaled the fear in a cloud of smoke and watched Finley and Bouma anxiously crowd around him. The outline of a monitor covered in cobwebs behind them caught his eye. He studied the plastic box it was connected to and concluded it was an ancient computer, the same kind he had learned to type on as a kid.

“See if you can get that thing working, Bouma. Maybe you can patch it through using a hardened line,” he said pointing with one of his muscular arms.

Bouma blinked several times and strolled over to the computer, tilting his head to examine the oversized, archaic box.

Overton popped in the other earbud and compressed his eyebrows, straining to listen. The first few channels yielded more foggy voices and the crackle of static, but as he scanned through them one voice stood out, almost crystal clear. And judging by the jargon, the man sounded military.

“What's the word, sir?” Finley asked.

“Stand by, Finley. I'm still trying to make sense of things.”

“Recorded at 0500. The Russians reported the sky started changing colors before contact was lost with Moscow . . .”

“Are you hearing anything about the West Coast?” Finley asked.

Overton shook his head and held up his right hand, balling it into a fist. The action prompted Finley to scoot back to his own chair. He knew exactly how much Overton would tolerate before he brought the hammer down.

“Finley, get me a cup of that piss-cold coffee,” Overton snarled between transmissions.

“Recorded at 0600. Japan has gone completely dark. They reported a strange fog in the sky seconds before contact was lost.”

Overton grabbed the cold mug from Finley's pale hands, hardly bothering to acknowledge him. He took a long swig, almost gagging on the bitter liquid. “This shit is nasty!” he yelled. “There has to be more coffee around here somewhere. Find it,” he ordered, bringing the bud back to his ear.

“Recorded at 0800. Contact with the Eastern Hemisphere has ceased. Europe, Asia—it's all gone dark.”

Overton almost dropped his mug. Whatever was happening was a worldwide phenomenon, and it was either heading west or had already hit the United States. This was nothing like the solar storms of 2055—this was something much worse.

He strained his ears again, desperate to know what was happening. For a second he pulled his eyes from the screens and glanced down at his bare arms, the scars a constant reminder of the sacrifices he had made for his country. As the data filled his head, he became more and more enraged. He had been a Marine for over thirty years. He had survived the Texas uprising of 2045, and had served in Puerto Rico
when the Spanish decided they wanted it back. Overton wasn't the type of soldier to sit back and watch his country get destroyed.

The man had heard enough. “Listen up,” he said, spinning his chair toward his two men. “We got lucky; whatever this thing is, it's affecting the entire world. I know you don't happen to care much for General More, but sending us to recover data from this bunker was the best thing that the man could have done for us. Those orders may have very well saved our lives.”

Overton stood and walked over to another monitor, studying the video feed of Colorado Springs from a camera hidden somewhere above ground. The city appeared to be mostly dark; there was no sign of life, no sign of fires or sirens. Just hundreds of blue specks from what he presumed were emergency lights. “This is not a solar event. It's something else.”

“Like what, sir?” Finley asked, fidgeting with his rifle.

The sergeant flicked his cigarette onto the concrete floor, suffocating it slowly with the tip of his steel-toed boot. “Frankly, I'm not sure.”

“Maybe the Chinese crawled out of their hole and set off an EMP of their own,” Finley said.

“Negative. To have an effect like this, an EMP would have to be too sophisticated, and too big. The technology that did this doesn't exist,” Overton replied. “And if it did, the Chinese would be the last to get their hands on it.”

“Not to mention the analog system is still working,” Bouma said, tapping the computer and gesturing with his chin toward the radio. “Traditional EMPs would knock out
all
communications, and basically lock down the grid. Whatever happened outside was designed to shut down modern communications and modern life.”

“What do you think happened to the rest of our squad?” Finley asked.

His question was met with silence.

Finley jumped up and rushed toward the monitor. “Hey, do you see that?”

“What?” Bouma asked.

“That,” Finley said pointing at a slowly moving dot on the screen.

“Bouma, zoom in,” Overton ordered, pulling his chair over to the monitor.

In the middle of the screen, a Humvee was racing down the cluttered highway, zipping in and out of the graveyard of empty vehicles. The headlights tore through the darkness, illuminating hundreds of blue glowing balls.

“What the hell are those?” Finley asked.

“Fuck, I thought those were emergency lights,” Overton said, squinting to get a better look.

“Well, what are they?” Finley asked again, anxiously looking over the sergeant's shoulder.

“Guess we'll find out,” Overton replied. He scanned the grainy image for some sign of his squad. They had to be out there. An entire squad of Marines didn't just disappear overnight unless they wanted to. And if he knew General More like he thought he did, the man wouldn't just leave him in the bunker without orders.

“Bouma, download a map from the mainframe before that generator burns through its juice. We're busting out of this death trap.”

The skinny Marine grinned, his crooked teeth protruding out of his mouth. “Yes, sir!”

CHAPTER 11

T
HE
Humvee tore down the gravel road, a cloud of dust exploding from under the massive off-road tires. Sophie gripped the steering wheel as if she was holding onto a buoy for life. She steered hard to the right to avoid an empty minivan parked in the middle of the road and roared past it.

“Where are we headed?” Saafi asked.

“Haven't figured that out yet exactly,” Sophie said.

“I want to check out the orbs,” Emanuel shouted from the back seat. “That's our first objective.”

Sophie took a left and slid out onto the highway that led to Colorado Springs, kicking up another cloud of dust. “All right, keep your eyes peeled.”

The truck zipped over the street, its headlights illuminating the empty vehicles on all sides.

“Must have been a massive evacuation,” Saafi said, staring out the window. The empty streets reminded him of Somalia, where it was common for the government to shut down entire roads.

“But from what? I don't see any sign of fires, and radiation levels are still minimal,” Sophie said. “In fact, I don't see a sign of anything or anyone.”

The emptiness was eerie. She'd hardly had the time to think about it after they left the biosphere. But now it was beginning to eat at her, and as Cheyenne Mountain slowly shrank in the rearview mirror, she felt a sense of uneasiness crawling through her.

Sophie tore herself away from the mirror and stared ahead, admiring the silhouettes of downtown Colorado Springs. The outlines were oddly beautiful. Without lights, the buildings looked like metallic pyramids.

“There!” Emanuel shouted. “Watch out!”

Sophie slammed on the brakes, narrowly missing one of the floating orbs. The smell of burning rubber filtered into her helmet.

“What on earth is it?” she whispered.

“Fascinating,” Emanuel said. Sophie couldn't see it, but she knew that behind his visor was a large smile. A discovery like this was what he lived for.

Before she had time to study the orb, he was walking toward it, the door slamming behind him.

“Wait up,” Saafi yelled, following him.

They wound their way between a pair of sedans and stopped a few feet from the floating ball.

“Shit,” Sophie said, putting the truck in park. She went to twist the key but opted to leave it running. If things got dicey, she wanted to make a fast escape. She opened the door and stepped out onto the street. Besides the idling diesel engine, there was nothing but silence. Nothing moved. The normal sounds of everyday life were gone: honking horns, chirping insects, sirens. The lack of noise was unsettling. “Keep sharp,” she whispered into her com.

The bright beam from the Humvee's headlights helped her navigate the graveyard of abandoned vehicles. She peeked into a sedan's windows. An open magazine, granola bar wrappers balled up on the floorboard, and an empty Pepsi bottle. There was nothing out of the ordinary—nothing to indicate a struggle or evacuation. The street was empty, too. Not even a single suitcase left behind, or a shoe lost in a hurried escape.

Nothing.

Sophie continued to the next car, finding the front windows down. She came up to the driver side window and stuck her helmet inside. There was more trash, a purse, and a pair of sunglasses.

“Come look at this, Sophie,” Emanuel said over the com. The words startled her, and she went to pull her head from the car. Then she saw
it—the keys were still in the ignition. Her eyes darted over to the fuel gauge.

“Empty? What the hell . . .”

“Didn't catch that, please repeat,” Emanuel said.

“Hold on.” Sophie hurried to the next vehicle. Through the window she could see the keys were still in the ignition and the fuel gauge was also on zero. The next two cars revealed the same thing.

What's going on here?

An evacuation where people didn't even have time to shut off their cars? She'd never heard of anything like it. During the solar storms of 2055, there were entire stretches of highway where people had been cooked in their vehicles, trapped during the CME. But this was different. There was no sign of a solar event—there were no bodies, no burned out cars.

Sophie ignored the eerie view and rushed over to Emanuel and Saafi. She placed her armored hand on Emanuel's shoulder. Even through the armor, it made her feel safer. Over years of scientific research, she had seen some terrifying things, but this was unlike anything she had experienced. This was just . . . weird.

The sphere hovered two feet above Saafi's head, putting it at about eight and a half feet high. Sophie studied it in awe. She had never seen anything that could float like that. The craft from her dreams crept into her thoughts, but she quickly pushed it away. Holly was right, they were just dreams, and this was nothing more than a coincidence.

“What do you make of it?” she asked, returning her attention to the glowing ball of light.

“It's fascinating. It appears to be organic, with some sort of electrical current running around the shell.”

Saafi approached the sphere cautiously, his rifle pointed toward the blacktop. “What do you think is inside?”

“Don't get too close,” Sophie warned.

Saafi craned his head to acknowledge her. “Relax . . .” he replied, pausing in midsentence as the exterior of the orb began to ripple. “What the—” he choked, stumbling backwards.

The surface pulsated, the solid blue glow fading into a translucent
white. The sphere rippled again, the entire ball vibrating. Saafi took a guarded step forward, his rifle now pointed at the orb.

As he got closer a tremor ripped through it, shaking it violently. Saafi froze. “I think I can see something inside.” He moved another step closer and the sphere reacted again, the blue fading completely into white. “Yes, there is definitely something inside, and I think . . .” He paused to get a better look.

“What is it?” Emanuel asked, approaching it curiously.

The knot in Sophie's stomach tightened. She knew whatever had happened to NTC and the people from the highway was probably related to the orbs. Nonetheless, she inched closer. She was a scientist, and far from a coward; she had to know what was inside.

Beneath the translucent white skin, there was a black entity. And it was moving. As the sphere stopped vibrating and the last hint of blue was gone, her heads-up display (HUD) glowed to life.

“Contact!” she yelled into the com. Whatever was inside had a heat signature—it was alive.

“Alexia, are you getting this feed?” Sophie asked over the com.

Short bursts of static broke out over the channel, but the AI did not respond.

“Shit. We must be out of range,” Emanuel said. “Or there might be some sort of interference.”

Sophie shrugged. “Just our luck. Guess we're on our own.”

The three team members backed up simultaneously as the heat signature grew larger on their displays, Emanuel nearly tripping over his own feet.

“What the fuck is it?” he asked. “It looks almost like an egg,” he said, regaining his composure.

“I'm not sure what kind of eggs you've seen in the past, but unless dinosaurs have returned, this is no egg,” Saafi said sarcastically.

Emanuel moved his lips to respond but stopped. The black life-form inside was moving, curling out of its fetal position.

“Guys, it's doing something,” Saafi said, pointing his rifle at the orb.

“Everyone back up,” Sophie commanded.

The entity continued to uncurl and moved closer to the skin of the
sphere. As it got bigger, Sophie could see that whatever it was it had limbs. They were struggling to move through the substance filling the orb.

Emanuel craned his neck and surveyed the rest of the highway. There were dozens more orbs, all still glowing blue in the distance.

“Guys, I don't know if you noticed, but the other orbs are still blue. Which means we did something to
activate
this one,” he said, a tremor present in his normally smooth voice.

“I think maybe we should get out of here,” Saafi replied, continuing to backtrack toward the Humvee, his gun shaking in his hands.

Sophie tried to think. She knew the orb could provide them clues about what was going on, but whatever was inside could put her team in jeopardy. It wasn't a risk she was willing to take at this point, not without knowing more.

“Let's get back to the truck,” she said.

Emanuel cocked his helmet toward her. “But—”

“That's an order,” she shot back at him.

“You don't have to tell me twice,” Saafi replied. He dropped his aim and went to take another step backwards, his leg hitting the bumper of a car. The impact made him stumble and his finger squeezed the trigger of the rifle before he could stop it, firing off a half dozen shots. Five of them blasted into the sky, but the sixth tore through the white skin of the orb, tearing a hole the size of a melon.

“Holy shit!” Emanuel screamed over the com, rushing to Saafi's aid. He helped the man up and they turned back to the Humvee, where Sophie was already waiting behind the wheel.

“Give me that,” Emanuel said, grabbing the gun from Saafi's grips.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”

The Humvee's horn tore through the silence.

“Turn around!” Sophie yelled into the com.

Emanuel saw the gaunt, pale face of what had been a man staring through the gaping hole in the orb's shell.

“It's human,” Saafi yelled. He took off running to help the man before Emanuel could stop him.

“Wait!” Emanuel screamed. “We don't know—”

Saafi halted, frozen in his tracks a few feet from a puddle of blue goo that had spilled out from the orb, staring at the opening. Through the hole, a face looked back at him. Or what had been a face. It was hardly recognizable as human. The man's skin clung to his cheekbones like a piece of plastic wrap. His eyes had shriveled into his eye sockets, and the irises were nothing more than small, black specks. Even from several feet away, Saafi could see every vein in the man's face extending like cobwebs across his skin.

“Sir, we're going to help you,” Saafi managed to choke out, his stomach lurching beneath his armor.

But the man did not seem to hear him. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice Saafi. His eyes remained unmoving in their skeletal prisons.

Saafi screamed as Emanuel's armored hand brushed his shoulder. “Jesus Christ, man. You scared the shit out of me.”

“What do you see?” Sophie asked over the com. “I can't see anything from my location.”

Nothing but the hollow sound of her breathing echoed over the open radio channel. Saafi and Emanuel didn't know how to respond. They stood staring at the man, oblivious to everything around them.

“What do you see?” Sophie repeated anxiously.

Saafi pulled his gaze away from the man and looked back in Sophie's direction. “It's a man, but he appears to be very, very sick.”

“Get back to the Humvee immediately. He could be infected, and I'm not taking any chances.”

Saafi nodded and grabbed Emanuel. “Let's go, man. You heard her.”

But Emanuel was captivated by the orb and the man. Not even the strange creatures he had studied that lived in the thermal vents of the Pacific Ocean compared. Whatever the sphere had done to this man was terrifying. More than that, it wasn't natural. This was something alien.

“Come on man,” Saafi pleaded, tugging at Emanuel's shoulders.

“Look,” he replied.

Saafi glanced back at the man inside the orb. His skin was changing. It was getting tighter, and the veins were getting more pronounced. The man's lips were turning white and slowly beginning to crack, blood
dripping out of them.

“Oh my God,” Saafi said. “We have to help him.”

“Don't go any closer,” Emanuel said, putting an arm in front of Saafi. He knew there was no way to stop whatever was happening to the man. All they could do was watch.

A popping sound broke through the silence as the man's eyes exploded in their sunken sockets. His lips quickly followed, bursting in a spray of red mist. Next went his skin, shrinking until it had no more room to stretch. It snapped like a rubber band and peeled off his face, vanishing into the orb, taking what was left of his scalp and hair with it.

Saafi's stomach lurched. He couldn't watch anymore and turned to run. “I'm fucking out of here, man.”

Emanuel, however, couldn't pull himself away. He watched the man's bones liquefy and sink into the blue goo before he, too, turned to run.

“What the hell happened?” Sophie asked as the passenger doors slammed, jolting the vehicle.

“Get us out of here!” Saafi yelled.

“Hold on.” Sophie wasn't going to wait around for an explanation; the look on their faces, even through their visors, told her they were in trouble.

She gunned it, punching the gas with all of her strength. For a second she considered heading deeper into the city, but she quickly decided against it, turning the steering wheel 180 degrees. The Humvee's oversized tires had no problem pulling up onto the curb, nor did they protest when the vehicle launched back onto the highway and into the bumper of a sedan, sending the smaller car into a ditch.

The old engine protested as Sophie navigated the graveyard of the abandoned vehicles.

They were almost back to the gravel road that led to Cheyenne Mountain when she heard it—the same high-pitched sonic blast she had heard in her dreams. At first her brain could hardly register what was happening. Surely her ears and mind were playing tricks on her.

But when the second blast drowned out the sound of the engine, her mind knew what she had tried to deny for so long.

Her dreams were real.

“What is that?” Saafi asked, gripping his ears as his eyes darted back and forth to get a look through the windows of the truck.