Orbs (27 page)

Check out this sneak peak for the second book in the Orbs series from the bestselling author Nicholas Sansbury Smith!

Orbs II: Stranded

Coming in October from Simon451

PROLOGUE

T
HE WAKING SUN
cast a brilliant glow over the wasteland as it crawled higher into the morning sky. Rays of scorching light carpeted the remnants of lakebeds and extinct rivers, unveiling sun-bleached bones of dead trees that littered the harsh landscape.

Alex Wagner cleared his visor of grime, wishing he could wipe away the beads of sweat forming inside his helmet. The ventilation system in the suit he had swiped off a dead NTC soldier had stopped working a day ago.

He adjusted his lean, athletic body inside the oversized suit. The damn hunk of armor was more of a detriment than anything. He glanced down at the exposed skin of his forearm beneath the foot long claw mark in the suit. Standing there under the blistering heat of the sun, he imagined what the soldier before him must have been thinking in the moments before his death. A blur of images entered his mind and then solidified into a vivid picture. The razor sharp claws slashing through the air, the guttural shrieks of the aliens hunting the NTC soldier. Alex had seen the same thing happen to his friends, and the memory made his skin crawl.

A gust of wind whistled passed his suit, peppering his visor with dirt. Alex flinched and snapped from the morbid thoughts. Squinting, he blinked several times to avoid the burning sweat dripping from his forehead and checked the temperature reading on his HUD.

100 degrees.

Could that be right? He checked his mission clock; it wasn't even 0800 hours yet. If the reading was correct, it meant the temperature was rising faster than he thought. But maybe it was wrong? Maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed.

Cursing under his breath, he pushed on through the hissing sand. When the wind cleared, he caught a clear glimpse of the wastelands around him.

Like a photograph, the world appeared in a simple, frozen frame through the glass of his visor. He halted to take in the view, his boots sliding to a stop in the loose sand. In the valley below, the dead branches of leafless trees reached toward the white sun. A deep grove from a dried up river snaked through the cracked red dirt. Beyond the cluster of trees he could see the hint of a road, two dusty trucks sitting idly where they were abandoned on invasion day.

Taking in a measured breath, Alex closed his eyes to listen to this new world. The sound of death echoed inside his helmet: the cracking of a dying tree branch, the desperate bark of a starving dog somewhere in the distance, and the screaming memories of the people he had seen die. It was a chorus playing on repeat, and he knew it would be with him until he too died.

Alex couldn't grasp why he had survived while so many others had perished. What made him so lucky?

He pushed on, trying to recall the series of events that had led him here. The timeline blurred together like the heat waves on the horizon.

He could remember signing the dotted line, signing six months of his life away to join a Biosphere team. But he still wasn't sure why they had picked him. He wasn't anything special. He wasn't a genius or even exceptionally smart. Five weeks before the invasion, he had simply been a history teacher and assistant football coach for the local high school team. Sure, he'd made a good run as a wide receiver in college, so good that he'd drawn the attention of a few NFL scouts before he blew out his knee, but that didn't explain NTC's interest in him. There were millions of people better suited for the project. Divorced, single, and saddled with student loan debt, Alex was hardly the best candidate for an NTC run Biosphere project.

Yet they had recruited him. His decision to accept their offer may have even saved his life. But for how long?

With the surface water gone, the temperatures would continue to rise, baking the the earth. Trees would die and stop producing oxygen, filling the atmosphere with un-breathable levels of carbon dioxide. Alex hadn't taken a science class since college, but even he knew what was happening. He had a front row seat to the end of the world.

Alex stumbled over a rock as he continued deeper into the valley, scanning the horizon. His helmet bobbed up and down, his dry lips smacking together with every step. The heat was nearly unbearable, and he was low on water, but still he remained focused, vigilant.

He hadn't seen any of the aliens for hours now, and he hadn't come face to face with any since they had attacked his Biosphere.

Four days earlier, he was sitting in the mess hall with nine of his teammates, chatting over plates of pasta that he had cooked himself. They'd heard the faint scratching and scraping noise first. Then came the terrible high-pitched shrieks that made him want to cup his ears. A brilliant blue glow followed moments later as dozens of the spider like creatures emerged from the ceiling.

He'd escaped into a sanitation sewage line, covered in hog manure and the blood of his friends. At first, he'd hesitated and turned to go back, but what he saw from inside that tunnel had terrified him—the spiders were spinning his screaming colleagues into orbs. He crawled away like a coward minutes moments later, tears streaming down his filthy face.

He shook the thoughts away and continued walking, his eyes darting back and forth as he scanned the landscape for signs of the monsters. Squinting, he focused on a dust covered road sign in the distance. He was lost now and had been for several days.

His plan was simple. Head west toward the ocean. The Biosphere had been located in an abandoned missile silo on the outskirts of Edwards Air Force base in California. Alex, a Maryland native, had little knowledge of the local geography and could only guess that he was now somewhere northwest of the base. After escaping the attack, he had headed as far away from Edwards as possible. He didn't need a military background to know the Organics were probably swarming there. After four days of traveling he knew he had to be close to the ocean. Maybe he'd get to see the Pacific before he died after all…if it was still there.

An abrupt and powerful gust of wind knocked him into a boulder, his armor meeting the rock with a crunch. As he pushed himself off the dirt, he caught a glimpse of something on the horizon. The sky to the west seemed different. There was a blue wall reaching up into the clouds. It couldn't be. Could it?

It looked a lot like rain.

Shielding his visor from the sun, he squinted into the distance.

Another gust of wind tore into his side, knocking him to both knees.

He grunted, pain racing through his body. He was burning up inside his suit, and the inside of his helmet felt like a furnace. Sweat strung his eyes. He winced, waiting for the burning to subside. For a former collegiate athlete, he wasn't in the best of shape, but at least his damn knee wasn't acting up.

As his vision cleared, he saw something odd about the rain. It was traveling up into the sky.

Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Or was his body finally succumbing to dehydration?

He forced himself deeper into the valley, heading for the rocky hills to the west. Blinking sweat from his eyes, he tried to focus on the phenomenon in the distance.

What the hell was it?

The rainstorm appeared beyond the rocks, but just how far beyond, he wasn't sure. Alex paused to marvel at the sky. He knew he didn't have the energy to travel much farther, but he was curious, and his curiosity propelled him forward across the dead landscape.

An hour later, he reached the last embankment of the valley. Gasping for air he began to climb, clawing his way up the loose dirt. Rocks and dead vegetation rained down the hill behind him as he dug deeper. By the time he reached the top, he could hardly breath.

“Just a little further,” he muttered.

From the top of the hill he could see a tan beach extending along the shoreline for miles, but where there would normally have been sunbathers, there was a graveyard of boats. Hulls were twisted in all directions, their cargo littered across the sand.

The ocean had receded far beyond the buoys that had once warned boats away from rocky areas. Now, they stuck out of the sand like dormant missiles. Miles away, the wall of water rose out of the ocean, where it was still deep and blue.

He followed the rain with his eyes until it disappeared into the sky. He couldn't see them, but he knew they must be there. Somewhere above him, the aliens had ships that were draining the sea.

Alex shook his head, and another drop of sweat fell into his eyes. He grimaced, waiting for the pain to subside. To the east, short, rectangular buildings flickered in the heat waves. Civilization meant resources, which meant water and food. But it also meant danger.

He hesitated, painfully aware of the dryness of throat. Alex knew he was going to die, one way or another. It wasn't a matter of if, just a matter of when and how. And he had two choices: die from dehydration or die like the NTC soldier that had worn the suit before him.

Neither option was particularly appealing. He took one last look at the wall of rain over his shoulder and started down the other side of the hill towards the houses.

Alex approached the buildings cautiously, scanning for aliens. There was no sign of movement besides the blur of a miniature dust tornado brewing in the distance. He paused, listening for any hint of the alien's shrieks. Just because he didn't see them, didn't mean they couldn't detect him. That was another thing he had picked up during the last four days. If he wanted to stay alive, he had to keep his focused.

He checked his HUD again. The display revealed no signs of life. He strained to listen one more time. Besides the wind, he heard nothing but the whining sound of a strained power line.

Satisfied, he entered civilization for the first time in days; a neighborhood, much like the one he'd grown up in, sprawled out in front of him.

He checked the road one more time to ensure it was clear and then took off running into the yard across the street. The tall blades of prairie grass snapped like twigs as he passed through them. Nothing green remained, not a single leaf.

Alex's vision fogged over. Gritting his teeth, he narrowed his eyes and tried to focus, but the effects of dehydration were taking over. He rested against a child's swing set and listened again for the familiar scratching of Spiders. He focused on the filthy glass doors leading into the house. They were covered in dust and dirt, but otherwise unscathed. He checked the windows; they too seemed to be undisturbed. His HUD still looked clear. Everything looked safe.

The thought gave him pause. No. Nothing was safe, not anymore.

Five quick paces across the yard and he was at the door, resting his back against the aged siding of the house. His first impulse was to break the glass, but instead he tried the handle. It clicked, unlocked.

He grinned at the small victory as he slipped through the opening, but his relief was short lived. Inside he was greeted by a dark room, only a few rays of sunlight bled through the curtains to guide him. Standing there in the shadows, he suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of fear. Slowly, he reached down and drew his combat knife out of its sheath.

The knife shook in his gloved hand. Holding the weapon did not feel natural. He was a teacher, not a soldier, and he had never been a fan of weapons. But this was a different world—a world where he had no choice but to protect himself.

He crossed the room cautiously and tiptoed toward the kitchen, the knife held out before him. He froze again when he saw the undisturbed room. Three plates were arranged neatly on the table for a family that would never eat together again. The room was an eerie relic from a time when food, water, and shelter was taken for granted; A time when people's biggest fear was whether they would be able to make their credit card payment. The world had changed overnight. Bills no longer mattered. Monsters were real. And water was the most important commodity of all.

Shaking the scene from his thoughts, he made his way to the fridge, opening the door to reveal a bottle of rotten milk and few cans of beer. A week earlier, he would have jumped at the sight of a beer, but now the can did nothing but make him crave water even more. He closed the door slowly and turned to the cabinets. The first two held nothing but spices and a few boxes of rigatoni noodles. The next two were full of utensils and plates. With a sigh he closed them and moved on to the third. He licked his lips out of habit, noticing that the blood had dried up.

He swung the next door open, desperate to find something to quench his thirst. Inside were a can of beans, a can of soup and a couple boxes of cereal.

It occurred to Alex that someone must have looted the house earlier, and something inside him brightened at the idea. Maybe they were still out there. Maybe he wasn't alone after all. He opened up his backpack and dropped the beans and soup inside to eat later and walked back through the hallway.

He passed a door, slightly cracked open. Sliding his fingers into the gap, he slowly opened it, revealing a dark utility closet. His heart raced when he saw the outline of a water heater. He instantly recalled a documentary he'd shown his students about civilians who survived the Solar Storms of 2055. One man had managed to live for three months off the water inside his water heater.

He clicked on his flashlight and swept the beam over the dark space. Crouching, he took one step inside the room. His heart sank when he felt his boot slide into a gooey substance.

Closing his eyes, he sucked in a measured breath and then angled the light at the floor. He knew what the substance was, but wanted to see it with his own eyes. When they snapped open, he saw the remains of an orb.

“My God,” he said, pulling his boot out of the sticky material. He was alone after all. There was nothing left of whoever had taken refuge in the closet, nor was there any water left in the small heater, which had a claw mark across the length of the metal.

Alex didn't bother closing the door. The orb was relatively fresh, not the dried out type he had come across before. He knew the aliens were probably still nearby. Moving slowly across the carpeted floor, he decided to head upstairs. He wanted a view of the block, to see if he was right—to see if
they
were still there. Gripping the combat knife tightly, he ducked around the next corner and stopped at the bottom of a large wooden staircase that led to a second floor.