Orbs (10 page)

CHAPTER 13

T
IMOTHY
ripped a hangnail off his index finger as his right eye twitched. “I'd like to know what the
hell
is going on.”

“Right now we have just as many questions as you do,” Overton replied, as they waited for Sophie to wheel Emanuel into the mess hall.

“You guys are Marines. You've been outside. You should know what's happening!” Timothy fired back.

Overton continued to twirl his combat knife on his fingertips, ignoring the man's comments. Over the years he had increasingly lost his ability to deal with men like Timothy—men who were, in his opinion, a waste of time. He'd spent his entire career as an active-duty Marine protecting men like that.

“Hey, I'm talking to you, man,” Timothy persisted, fidgeting in his metal chair. “What is it, some kind of military thing? Is it World War Three out there?”

Overton gave him a quick “shut your mouth or I'm going to put my boot up your ass” look.

It worked. Timothy rolled his eyes and strolled over to help Sophie wheel Emanuel into the room.

“Do you believe that guy? Why the hell did they let him in this joint?” Finley asked.

“Sounds like a nut job to me,” Bouma replied with a grin.

“Keep your traps shut. Do you know where we are?” Overton paused to scan his men's faces, but they stared back at him blankly. “Jesus Christ! We're at Cheyenne Mountain, one of the best protected
military bases in the history of the United States. This bunker was built to withstand a direct hit from a nuclear weapon, and can support the population of a small town for months. Right now we are guests at this facility. And until we figure out what's going on out there, I don't want to give them a reason to kick us out. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

The squeaking of rubber tread prompted Overton to sheathe his knife and stand. He welcomed Sophie and Emanuel to the room with a short nod. “How's your tall friend?”

“He's alive, but barely. Our AI has him in a medically induced coma inside the cryo chamber,” Sophie said, sliding Emanuel's wheelchair underneath a table. She strolled over to Overton with her hand outstretched. “I never got a chance to thank you for what you and your men did back there. So thank you,” she said, forcing a tired smile.

He took her hand and squeezed it. “My pleasure, ma'am. Just in the day's work of a Marine.”

Timothy laughed. “Marines who don't know what the hell is going on.”

Sergeant Overton took in a short breath, calming himself before he let go of Sophie's hand and retreated to his chair. Under normal conditions he would be removing Timothy's teeth from his mouth with one swift punch, but not today—today he needed a place to sleep and regroup so he could have the strength to fight later.

Sophie pulled a strand of frizzled blond hair out of her eyes and brushed it behind her ear. She shot Emanuel a glance before heading to the center of the room. The mission had gone from a failure to a complete nightmare, but she was still the team lead, and her people needed her now more than ever. They'd seen her go through many highs and lows in her career, from winning the J. J. Sakurai Prize for outstanding work in theoretical particle physics to subsequently losing grant funding for a project associated with a new particle collider funded by NTC. And they had stuck with her through it all.

She bent over the table, placing her hands on the cold metal and scanning the faces sitting around the room. She wondered if they would still stay by her side now.

“Listen up. I don't know what's happened outside. I'm not sure what we encountered on the highway or on our way back.” Sophie shook her head and sucked in a deep breath, straightening her back. “All I know is we have to move forward. But before we devise a plan, Alexia has something she wants us to see.” Sophie turned to face the console in the middle of the room.

“One moment, Dr. Winston,” Alexia replied. Darkness washed over the team as the lights faded. A burst of light shot out of the console, forming a crisp video feed that illuminated the faces of the team members.

Sophie recognized the empty control room instantly. It was the command center at the NTC headquarters in Los Angeles. She'd been there just three months ago, signing the contract that she thought was her ticket to Mars. Dr. Hoffman walked into the control room and looked into the camera. His face was solemn, fatigued. The lines on his aged forehead were deeper and more pronounced, as if he hadn't slept for days.

“Dr. Winston, Alexia, and team. If you are listening to this, then it's too late. The Doomsday Clock has finally caught up to us,” he said, pausing to look down at a page of notes in his right hand. As he reviewed the words, his nostrils flared and his eyebrows compressed to form a deep wrinkle. He crumpled the paper and tossed it on the floor.

Sophie had never imagined him as the type of leader who would let his emotions take control of him so radically. This meant, more than likely, that whatever he was about to say was earth-shattering. She strained her battered ears, her gut clenched, preparing for the worst.

“You all remember the solar storms of 2055. The solar flares turned the sky red and played havoc with communication systems worldwide before emitting a coronal mass ejection that turned the Midwestern region of the United States into a radioactive dead zone. These are things no one will ever forget. However, what you don't know about this catastrophic cosmic destruction is its true origin.”

Dr. Hoffman grabbed a glass of water from a nearby table and took a sip. “The sun was not the only culprit responsible for these events. Dr. Winston, your team discovered a magnetic disruption while working
in Houston. Something that was feeding the storms. You encrypted the data and sent it to us. And I'm guessing you were told to forget about it, that the information was classified.”

Sophie glanced over her shoulder at Emanuel, who gave her a confused look. He had lost both of his parents in the storm, and she had lied to him about its true source. While it broke her heart, the future of her career depended on the lie. She realized she had some explaining to do.

“In any case, the magnetic disruption was caused by an organic force—a force no scientist in the world could possibly understand. Until now.” Dr. Hoffman halted and stepped back from the camera so that a 3D hologram had room to enlarge over a metal console.

“I hope you can all make this out,” he said, flicking the blue shapes with his index finger.

Sophie gasped. It was the image of the ship from her dreams—the same ship they had encountered outside the mountain before Sergeant Overton and his men had rescued them.

“Meet Eve, the first extraterrestrial organic drone ever discovered. She's made mostly of water, along with an electronic force field and a couple of elements that won't show up on your high school chemistry teacher's periodic table. We are calling these invaders the
Organics
. We found Eve submerged in an uncharted lake in the remote wilderness of Alaska in 2055. It was around the same time scientists realized the magnetic interference during the solar storms had originated from beneath the surface of Mars. Now, we still don't know what's down there. President Bolton's administration refused to fund any research vessels, so we can only guess that Eve and the source of the magnetic interference are related. What we do know is this: 2055 was their first attempt at exterminating us. We have all seen enough B movies to know how the story goes. Aliens come to Earth for our resources and we fight back, finding a way to kill them through bacteria, nukes, or good old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat. Well, not this time.” Dr. Hoffman paused again to take another sip of water and glance at his watch.

“I'm sorry; time is of the essence, and I am running out of it. I'll make the rest of this quick. We got lucky in 2055. The Organics failed
at their first attempt, but they won't fail in their second. This is why we have put so much funding into the biosphere projects. After the failure of their first mission, all our hope is riding on you. If you are getting this message, then it's too late for the rest of us. My role model as a child, Stephen Hawking, was right when he compared a modern alien invasion to the European invasion of North America. It did not end well for the indigenous people, and it won't end well for us. The storms of 2055 made it very clear. They want us dead.”

A staffer rushed into the room behind him, interrupting the presentation. “Dr. Hoffman, they're coming!”

The command center's lights flickered and began to fade as the doctor turned to face the camera again. “You must go—”

Before Dr. Hoffman could finish his sentence the image vanished and darkness flooded over the room.

“The Organics? What the fuck!” Timothy yelled, running both hands through his curly hair.

“We must go where?” Holly asked, her pale face almost glowing in the dim room.

Sophie stood and placed her hands on both aching ears, massaging the small medical devices inserted there. “Alexia, is that the entire message?”

“I'm afraid so, Dr. Winston. It must have been recorded and sent shortly before the disruption happened outside.”

“What's that mean?” Timothy asked, his eye twitching frantically.

“Mr. Roberts, sit the fuck down before I have my men restrain you,” Sergeant Overton bellowed, rising from his metal seat. “Sounds like it wasn't the Chinese after all, Finley,” he said, shooting the young Marine a quick grin. “What we have on our hands here is an invasion. And what do Marines do during an invasion?”

“They fight, sir!” Bouma barked.

“
Oorah
,” Sergeant Overton replied, his rough voice echoing through the mess hall. “Dr. Winston, before the presentation you mentioned a plan. Now the way I see it, nothing short of the grace of God spared our asses. And after seeing what happened to the rest of the poor souls in Colorado Springs, I figure we lived for a reason. So whether it's divine
intervention or just a coincidence, you and I need to work together. With your scientific brain power and my”—he paused and looked at the archaic metal .45 hanging off his belt—“my firepower, if you'll pardon the cliché, I believe we have a fighting chance at taking some of these alien bastards with us. We already know they don't react well to rockets.”

Sophie took a deep breath, mulling over the Marine's words before shrugging. “Doesn't look like we have a choice, but let me be very clear.” She caught Overton's gaze and held it, unwavering. “This is my facility, and I am in charge.”

Sergeant Overton waited a few seconds before responding. “Works for me, ma'am.”

“All right then. We have all had an extremely long day, so let's get some rest. Sergeant, you and your men are free to sleep in Saafi's room. I'll have Holly bring you some extra bedding and pillows.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” Bouma said.

“Get some sleep. We start at 0700,” Sophie said, returning to Emanuel. “Oh, and Sergeant,” she added, “one of you can take my room.”

Overton raised an eyebrow and then managed the first real smile that he could remember since this whole mess began. With a laugh, he pushed Finley and Bouma toward the private quarters. “Let's go, you shitheads.”

Sophie motioned Emanuel toward the hallway. “I know I have some explaining to do. But before I do, please know I'm sorry. I had to keep the information about the solar storms from you for the sake of my career. For your career.”

“I know,” he said, looking up at her. He managed a smile. “Honestly, I understand. Besides you had no way of knowing what the magnetic disruption was. Or that it would lead to this.”

Sophie sighed and bent down to whisper into his ear. “It's the end of the world. You know what that means?”

“You're my new bunk mate?”

“You got it,” she said, wheeling him into the dark passage.

CHAPTER 14

T
HE
alarm tore through the early morning silence. Sophie shot up, narrowly avoiding punching Emanuel in the gut. Fear raced through her as she tossed the sheets off the bed and rushed to grab her headset. Her stomach lurched when her feet hit the cold floor.

She felt like she'd been hit head-on by a truck, and then backed over.

Everything hurt.

Her head pounded, her vision was cloudy, and worst of all, she couldn't think. Brainpower was the one thing that had gotten her through a laundry list of dicey situations in the past. Without it she was nothing more than another blonde in a lab coat.

“Alexia, what's going on?”

“Dr. Winston, there is something I think you may want to see.”

“Can't you just tell me over the com? It's only”—Sophie paused to look at her watch—“0800. Shit, I overslept. I'm on my way.”

The red glow from the emergency lights lit the room, illuminating Emanuel's tired eyes. Sophie fumbled for her clothes in the dim light.

“Stay put,” she barked.

“Is it Saafi?” he asked, sitting up.

“I don't know. I'm headed to the control room to find out.”

Sophie rushed into the hallway, where she collided with Finley. She fell to the ground in a tangled mess.

“I'm sorry, ma'am!” he said, offering his hand to help her up.

Sophie managed to sit up, rubbing her throbbing head, and politely declined his hand. “I'm fine.”

“Are you su—”

“I said I'm fine, Finley. I just need to get my bearings.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, but he hesitated for a moment. Sophie glared at him until he left and then clambered stiffly to her feet, gripping the wall for support.

The command center was packed by the time Sophie arrived. Her team and the Marines stood huddled around a monitor showing video footage from Camera 1, directly outside the blast doors. Standing in the morning sunlight was a child no older than five. He was gripping a filthy blanket and had lost a shoe.

“Open the doors, Alexia!” Sophie shouted.

“Whoa! Hold on a second there,” Timothy said. “We don't know where he came from or how he got here. He could be infected!”

Holly raised her hand to cut him off. “He's just a little boy, Timothy. I know you lack compassion, but do you have no heart at all?”

“I'm afraid Timothy might be right,” Overton said, straining to get a better look at the screen. “That kid didn't just find his way up to the blast doors by himself. Well, it's highly unlikely he did. What's more likely is that these Organics are using him to draw us out.”

Sophie took a deep breath, weighing Overton's comments against her own instincts. “That's a chance I'm willing to take. Open the doors, Alexia. Sergeant Overton, I want you and your men positioned inside that hangar. Nothing, and I mean nothing, gets in besides the child!”

“Yes, ma'am,” Overton replied with a scowl.

Sophie took one more look at the monitor before racing back into the hallway. The logical side of her brain was telling her it was nearly impossible for the boy to have found his way there, but deep in her gut she was being told something else. This was no trap; this child needed their help. And she would be damned if she left the boy outside to die.

A bright ray of light tore through the gap in the blast doors, dividing the dark hangar in two. On the left side, Finley and Bouma knelt with their pulse rifles trained on the entrance. On the right, Sergeant Overton crouched behind a pyramid of metal crates with his rocket
launcher at the ready. Sophie watched from inside the safety of the train, her hand hovering over the controls just in case her gut had been wrong and it was a trap after all.

As the doors screeched open, Sophie could see the narrow shadow of someone approaching. She watched Finley and Bouma straighten, their fingers gripping the rifles tighter in anticipation.

“Alexia, stop the doors,” Sophie whispered into her headset.

The massive metal eased to a stop, the opening just large enough for a human to pass through. Silence washed over the hangar as the team waited for the boy to slip through the crack. Sophie couldn't hear anything but the hollow sound of her own heartbeat.

Overton's patience was starting to wear thin. The door had been open for too long, further compromising the safety of the facility. He balled his hand into a fist and prepared to flash his men the signals to advance when the child stepped through the opening. The boy halted at the entrance between the two doors, squinting into the darkness.

Even from a distance Overton could see the boy's face was smeared with dirt. The only clean spots were on his cheeks, where tears had washed away the grime. His shaggy blond hair was matted to his head like a hastily made bird's nest, and his clothes were filthy.

Overton shot Sophie a quick glance, giving her the most reassuring look he could manage. But deep down something didn't smell right. He just couldn't bring himself to believe some five-year-old boy had trekked all the way up Cheyenne Mountain and knocked on the front door of one of the government's oldest military installations.

Either makes him really smart, really lucky, or really dangerous.

“Hey buddy, what's your name?” Overton asked, slowly stepping out from behind the safety of the metal boxes. He had never been good with kids, and barely even knew his own boys. They both lived in Arkansas with his ex-wife. He thought of them briefly, wondering if they had survived the invasion, but he quickly put the thought aside. He had a task to perform, and if he had learned one thing in his lengthy military service, it was to never let outside distractions mess with him during a mission.

“It's okay, buddy, we aren't going to hurt you,” Overton entreated.
“Do you think you can come over here?”

Sophie watched from the train, furious with herself for allowing Overton to lure the child inside the facility. She should have known the rough man would just scare him off. He had the voice of a lifetime smoker and the face of a hardened prisoner. Not exactly the type of guy you'd want to watch your kids.

She started to approach but hesitated. Leaving the safety of the train would dramatically shorten their escape window. But the kid wasn't budging, and judging by the look of terror streaked across the boy's face, Overton wasn't making any progress on convincing him to move.

Sophie jumped out of the train and onto the concrete platform, slowly approaching the boy. “It's okay; no one's going to hurt you,” she said, in the most reassuring voice she could manage.

The child took a step forward and then halted, hesitating as he saw Finley and Bouma with their rifles. Sophie craned her head and widened her eyes, whispering the words “Back off” into her headset. Both Marines reluctantly lowered their weapons and retreated into the shadows.

“What's your name?” Sophie asked, turning again to the child. “My name's Sophie, and this is where I work. It's a safe place. These Marines are here to protect us,” she said motioning toward Overton and his men, who all faked smiles.

The boy's eyes darted nervously from face to face, his mouth quivering as if he wanted to speak, but nothing came out. Sophie took another step forward, prompting the child to take a step back. He squeezed his filthy blanket tighter against his chest.

Sophie knew she was running out of time. The longer the door was open, the more likely the Organics would find them . . . if they hadn't already. Thinking of the name Dr. Hoffman had given the aliens made the events of the week feel terribly real. Her team had gone from working on the most important mission in human history to hiding from an invading extraterrestrial race, one she hadn't even had time to study. And then there was Saafi, clinging to life because of her rash decision to leave the Biosphere.

“Where's my daddy?” the boy suddenly said, shocking Sophie from
her thoughts of self-pity.

“What's your daddy's name?” Sophie replied.

“Chuck, but some people call him Chet,” the boy responded, raising his voice. “He works here.”

Sophie relaxed slightly. It all made sense now. The boy had been there before. His father must have been a NTC guard or scientist. Sophie sighed audibly, a wave of relief flooding over her.

“Why don't you come inside, and we'll try and find him,” she suggested.

The boy regarded her with large, blue eyes as if he was trying to gauge her trustworthiness. “My name's Owen,” he said finally, taking a step forward.

Sophie smiled. “Hi, Owen, it's nice to meet you. I bet you're hungry, aren't you?”

The child nodded and looked down at his shoeless foot. One more step and he would be inside the hangar, and Alexia could shut the door. Sophie had to act fast; time was running out.

“Do you like macaroni and cheese?”

The boy's eyes lit up. “It's my favorite.”

“Well, if you come with me, I promise I will make you a big, warm plate of it,” she said, smiling even wider.

The boy looked at her, hesitated, and then walked several paces toward the train. “Close the doors, Alexia,” Sophie whispered into her com. She watched Sergeant Overton sneak up behind the boy as the pistons of the doors hissed and moaned. Startled, the boy turned to run, but instead he collided with the Marine's thick waist.

“Let me go!” the child screamed.

“I'm not going to hurt you, kid,” Overton said, gripping the boy's collar in one hand. He dragged Owen toward the train, kicking and screaming, Sophie trying to comfort the child the entire way.

“It's okay, Owen; you're safe here,” she said, knowing very well she could be feeding him a lie.

The kid snorted out a gob of snot on Overton's wrist. The Marine scowled. There weren't many things in the world he disliked more than a whiny little kid.

The burning stench of plastic overwhelmed the aroma of cheese drifting through the mess hall. Timothy's stomach growled nonetheless. He hadn't had a real meal in over twenty-four hours, and the fact they were wasting one of the
only
mac and cheese packets on some stupid kid was pissing him off. The boy wasn't the only one whose favorite meal was delicious cheese-covered shells.

Timothy gritted his teeth. “We need to think about rationing,” he said, pacing back and forth in the kitchen. “We don't know how long we're going to be cooped up in here.”

“There are bigger things to worry about right now,” Bouma said, tearing into a freeze-dried meal with a jagged tooth.

“Yeah, like figuring out how widespread this thing is,” Finley replied.

The squeaking of rubber tires echoed through the small room. Timothy cocked his head to see Emanuel wheeling himself toward the automatic coffee machine.

“What's up, cripple?” he said with a grin.

Emanuel struggled but managed to stand and limped over to the skinny man, stopping inches from his smiling face.

“I don't know if you've been an asshole all these years and just managed to hide it, or if you've just totally lost it. Whatever the case, I will not—and I mean
not—
hesitate to lock you in a storage closet.”

Timothy's smirk faded, and he brushed a curl out of his eyes. “Hey man, I'm just kidding. Relax. Isn't a little humor a good thing in a situation like this?”

“I'm not kidding.”

“All right, all right. I'll tone it down a bit,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“See, there you go!” Emanuel shouted.

“Gentlemen, I know everyone is riled up, but remember we have a new guest,” Sergeant Overton said with a nod toward Owen, who sat next to Sophie and Holly in the mess hall. “Timothy, this is your last warning. Get it together or your friend Emanuel won't be the one locking you in the closet,” he said stroking the .45 on the side of his belt. “After you guys get some grub, meet me in the control room. I
want to see the layout of this place.”

Emanuel sat back down carefully in his wheelchair. “No problem, sir,” he said, swiping a mug of fresh coffee and balancing it between his legs. Cautiously, he wheeled himself into the mess hall.

“Owen, there's someone I'd like you to meet,” Sophie said, watching Emanuel make his way toward them. “This is Dr. Rodriguez, but you can call him Emanuel. He's in charge of the gardens and pond and everything else that helps make this place special and safe. Do you want to see the pond later?”

The boy stared down at his gooey macaroni, shoveling another hot scoop into his tiny mouth.

“Hi, Owen,” Emanuel said with a smile. “Is that stuff good?”

“Where's my daddy?”

Emanuel looked to Sophie for help, but she just rubbed the young boy's shoulders. “We'll find your daddy. Don't worry right now. Just eat your food,” she said.

Owen looked up at her with wide eyes. “I lost Sam,” he whimpered.

“Who's Sam?”

“He's my friend. When the sky started to change, my mom hid us. But then, when we came outside, everyone was gone.”

“Then what happened, Owen?” Holly asked.

“We found the blue circles. They were everywhere.”

“The orbs,” Sophie muttered under her breath. “I'll tell you about them later, Holly.”

“The ship took Sam,” Owen cried, whimpering and burying his shaggy blond head into his blanket.

Sophie patted the boy's back. “It's going to be okay, Owen.”

“How about I show you the garden, or the pond, after you finish eating?” Emanuel asked.

“I want my mommy and daddy,” the boy cried.

“How about taking him to get cleaned up instead?” Sophie suggested. “You'll feel better after a warm shower, won't you?”

Owen shoveled more macaroni into his mouth and shook his head. “I don't like water,” he mumbled, wiping the tears out of his eyes.

“I'll take him,” Holly offered, pushing in her chair. “We can go for
a walk.”