Eve of Destruction ©

Chapter Twelve

By Fiction Writer #13

(M/g, preteen, exhib, ped, sci-fi, horror, magic)

The lift slowed to a halt without a sound, the door opening automatically. Allen stepped out and turned to find Mal still staring off into space. "You sure you're okay? You seem kinda out of it?"

Mal shook his head, breaking free from what ever thoughts held him. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be alright. It's just been a long day. Come on, this way."

Mal moved around Allen and took the lead once more. As they moved around the the circular tier Allen stared in amazement into every cell that they passed. Just behind the thick Clear Steel barriers were horrors from childhood nightmares made real. There were things that resembled insects, reptiles, and sea creatures from the deepest depths of the ocean. Tentacles, wings, claws, pincers, beaks, fangs, stingers and horns seemed to adorn most of the beasts.

"Don't pay too much attention to the names given to our guests. The majority of them were captured during the fifties, and back then our scientists were rarely involved. We sent out teams, mostly ex-military, to investigate and apprehend possible para-bio's. The right of nomenclature was awarded to whom ever made the discovery. As a result, most of the names given were... shall we say, more imaginative than scientific."

Allen could see what he meant. Beside each cell was a touch screen computer that displayed a long list of information. At the very top of each display was the name bestowed. Bug-eye, Lil'shit, Sonavabitch, Ex-Wife, Old Stabby, Heart Sucker, Slasher, Whippy, Screamer, Blob, Franken-fucker; the names read like a list of poorly written horror movies.

"We've been adjusting the names since the nineteen seventies to fit into our new taxonomy, but we have a long way to go."

Allen stopped in front of one cell that appeared to be empty, but the computer had the name Casper displayed. He turned to Mal. "A ghost?"

Mal chuckled, "Yes and no. Like I said, ghosts are nothing more than a biological entity in an ethereal state who have become trapped outside of their physical form."

"Sounds like a ghost to me." Now it was Allen's turn to chuckle. "Just say spirit instead of Ethereal state and that's exactly what you have. How can you be sure it's in there?"

Mal leaned past Allen and pushed a finger against the touch screen. A low hum emanated from the cell as the interior lighting shifted slightly. A wispy shape began to appear inside the cell, floating, moving fluidly as if underwater. Grey-white tendrils slowly fluttered, connected to a central mass that almost resembled a blurred human form.

"Casper was the very first Ethereal entity captured, and is somewhat a mystery. While the majority of Ethereals we've investigated are aggressive and violent during capture, Casper here has remained calm, even friendly. Hence his surprisingly appropriate name."

Mal pressed the screen again and the gentle apparition faded back into nothing. Before it had dissolved completely, Allen could have sworn he saw the thing smile at him, but chose not to say anything to Mal about it.

The next few cells appeared just as empty as the last so the pair headed on without stopping, eventually coming upon a series of cells that contained humans.

"Who are these guys?" Allen asked.

"People who were asking me too many questions," Mal responded with a laugh. "Just kidding. The first one we passed was a Mellenchior, a human possessed and corrupted by an agent of the Dark One. Basically a demon in human form. The next few were variations of Lycanthropes. Werewolves and other animal shape-shifters."

"Werewolves are real?"

"And weretigers, werebears, and a number of other combinations. Werewolves are just the most common variety. Lycanthropy is a virus accidentally brought from the other universe. It's rare, but it still infects about ten people a year. Contrary to popular belief it can't be spread through human to human biting. An infected animal must bite another species to infect it. Silver kills the virus, but it doesn't have to be in the form of a bullet."

"So if it can be cured, then why do you have these people here?"

"They don't want to be cured. They sought out the infection to become what they are. If we cured them they'd just go out and get re-infected. They're too dangerous to set free. Criminally insane if you ask me. Which brings us to our next group, Vampires."

The next cell was a darkened room, inside a pale skinned kid in his early-twenties glared at them. He had long hair that was the same color as his clothing, black. He looked like any other outsider that roamed the night desperately trying to prove that he was 'different' than his peers, but in the end was just another Goth kid.

"Vampirism, like Lycanthropy," Mal continued, "is a viral infection from the other side. Only this one has become a real problem. The stigma of Vampirism has changed over the centuries. What was once viewed as evil, is now considered sexy. As a result, a small group of infectees exploded into an epidemic in just a few decades. Idiots."

"Screw you old man! You don't know shit!" The kid leapt at the barrier, his fist rebounding hard off the Clear Steel, screaming with a thick European accent.

"Our time is coming! You and your kind are nothing more than cattle for us to feed upon!"

Mal spoke calmly. "Now Jeremy, don't get yourself all worked up. Remember what happened last time."

"Don't call me by that name, my name is Vasago!"

"No it isn't. Your name is Jeremy Travers, and you are from Des Moines Iowa. You came from a very nice family, with two brothers and a little sister who all miss you very much."

"Fuck you! I am Vasago of the Kildonus Clan! My people will come for me, and when they do, I will seek you out, and..."

Mal pressed the button to kill the two-way communications. "Annoying, aren't they?"

Allen nodded.

"They're all like that. They believe the stories that they've read, the movies they've seen. They've created this fantasy world around them, but the scariest thing is how many continue to buy into the lie. Amazing what some good PR can accomplish."

Allen turned away from the raging kid to face Mal. "Is any of it true? Do they actually drink blood?"

"Well, yes and no. The infected do need to ingest blood in order to stay alive, but it doesn't have to be human. They are in a living-dead state, meaning their hearts beat at such a low rate that it's almost undetectable. The same goes with their respiratory system, which is where the 'no breath' myth most likely came from. Twenty-four hours after infection, the host body can no longer sustain itself without the virus.

"Sunlight can kill them, but it's actually the ultra-violet radiation that does it. The virus has no protection against UV rays so it dies. Unfortunately so does the host body, since the infection is what keeps them alive for so long. A stake through the heart or decapitation will do the job, but then, what wouldn't that kill?

"Garlic is a myth, as is the need to be invited in order to enter a home. No transformations into bats, rats, fog, mist, or insects. No flying or mind control, but they are extremely quick, agile and very strong. The fangs are real, but can't be retracted as seen on some popular TV shows.

"Surprisingly though, crosses and holy water do work. We've been studying why that is and have come to the conclusion that blessing an object is essentially the same as casting a spell upon it. Even though a priest may not be aware that they are using the Art, if their belief is strong enough, the Church's rites and rituals can be used against the forces of the Dark One, and apparently, vampires."

Allen scratched an imaginary itch on his neck as the kid flashed his fangs at him. "This is crazy. Why would anyone want to become one of these things?"

"Maybe you've forgotten what it's like to be a kid, Allen. Popularity is a strong attractant. We all want to belong to something, be a part of something bigger than what we are. It's human nature to seek out others like ourselves. To find a place where we belong.

"These groups offer protection, strength in numbers, and a purpose in life. Unfortunately there are groups that pray on individuals like Jeremy. Street gangs, motorcycle clubs, the KKK, Aryan Nation, religious cults... and that's just some of them. This Vampire Clan thing is nothing but another group preying on lost souls as a way to recruit new members."

"Can Jeremy be cured?"

"Let me put it this way, you can cure the disease, but not the infection. This is the sixth time we've had Jeremy in here. We've cured him, cleaned him up, sent him home, and a week later he's off again. It's like a drug habit, and that's what we tell his family it is. Until he gets his head on straight, he'll never get better.

"Currently, with Jeremy's help, we're developing a vaccine to prevent the further spread of this infection, but it may be too little too late. New York, LA, Chicago, London, Tokyo, Sydney, Rome and Paris already have a thriving population of vamps. There are just too many of them to bring here. So until the vaccination is perfected, we've adopted a strict policy of tag and release for infectees who have not turned violent, and a kill on sight order for those who cross that line."

Mal shook his head in disgust. "It's such a waste. All these kids, drawn into something they don't understand, just because they feel they don't belong, that they are alone in the world. The sad thing is that's how everyone feels at their age. Why one kid can grow up and overcome that feeling, while another gets recruited into one of these groups, is a complete mystery to me."

She could feel them, feel their eyes wandering, examining, picking over every inch of her body, digging into every nook and cranny no matter how private those places should have been. It felt like heat, a prickly burning sensation as their eyes moved over her. The little hairs on the back of her neck had stood on end ever since the door to Dr. Paul's room slid shut behind her, leaving her exposed, trapping her in this exhibitionist hell.

The first few moments after Dr. Paul had broken the silence was a blur. He'd lifted her into the air, clutching her to his chest as he wept and thanked her over and over again. His words were fast, and his actions only confused her further. Something profound had occurred during his time on the other side, but he never said exactly what it was.

For her part, the details of her own experience were becoming hazy, like a dream fading back into the subconscious. All she really remembered was Robbie, Robbie and the warrior woman's strange words. Something about her was familiar, too familiar.

She tried to concentrate, to remember everything that she had said word for word, but the alien feeling of Dr. Paul's penis as it softened and slid free of her body was too much of a distraction. She could feel his sperm as it drained from her, sickly wet, cooled by the air of the room, sliding down her thigh. The feeling made her want to retch, but she held herself in check, barely.

Her thoughts were jumbled. Her reactions, both spoken and emotional, seemed to contradict one another. One moment she was perfectly comfortable with her nude body, the next filled with a desperate panic, a need to cover herself before anyone else could catch a glimpse of her privates.

Dr. Paul had ushered her out of his room, apologizing for giving her the bum's rush and explaining that he had a lot to do in a short period of time. When she timidly asked to borrow one of his robes Dr. Paul knelt down on the floor and held her by her shoulders.

"No little one. You mustn't give them any reason to believe that you are anyone other than Eve."

"But I'm not Eve anymore. I'm... I'm different now."

He smiled softly. "I know. But you have to pretend, you have to pretend to be Eve just a little bit longer. It's important. Something is about to happen, something big, but if anyone finds out that you aren't who they think you are, it could ruin everything."

It was then that the warrior woman's words came back to haunt her thoughts.

'Is this what she made me promise to do? Am I supposed to do what Dr. Paul wants?'

Sure, it would suck to pretend to be Eve, but it wouldn't break her heart. It didn't make sense that this was what she'd been warned about, but just to be on the safe side she kissed Dr. Paul's cheek and promised him that she would do her best.

That had been five minutes ago, but now, as her bare feet padded down the corridor towards the relative safety of her new home, she wasn't sure that she could keep up the facade for much longer. There were just so many eyes in this place, and they all took a moment from what they were doing to stare at her. Innocent little Eve may not have noticed that look of hunger that formed on some of their smiling faces, but Sarah sure as hell did.

She did her best to fake it despite the thumping of her heart. She was sure to smile and say hi to everyone she passed, even though inside she was screaming. The urge to run was overwhelming.

'Not too much further. Almost there. I'll just hide out until whatever is going to happen, happens. If anyone asks, I'll say that I'm not felling good. Come on, come on, just six more doors and I'm home. Don't lose it now Sarah, just a few more doors.'

"Twenty minutes till wheels down." The pilot's warning filled the pressurized cabin of the Lear jet just as Jonathan finished with his manufactured coup d'etat for North Korea.

The instructions were being fed via satellite into that country's radio and television stations, embedding themselves within the normal broadcast. The government approved news anchor on TV would be touting the glory of Kim Jung Il and the importance of conformity, but the subliminal message would be inciting them to rise up in arms, to stand strong against him, to free themselves of his oppression.

Jon turned his attention to his next mission, the recovery of an artifact long hidden beneath the red stone monolith known as Uluru. As promised by the "True Prophesy", the entrance to an ancient temple dedicated to Ixshebet was revealed following a forty day long dust storm.

Jon moved his cursor to highlight the file on Ixshebet before clicking. Very little was known about the God of Dreams, other than he (or she) was once worshipped in the other universe long before the Dark God rose to power. It was widely believed by the Elohim that the Dream God and all of his followers had been swept up in the war against the Dark God, but were long since dead, murdered to the last by the Dark One's minions.

When the Prophesy was shown to some of Malcolm's contacts within the Elohim, they couldn't believe what they were reading. Most dismissed it outright as an impossibility, an error, some kind of mistake. Yet here he was, on a connecting flight to the Australian outback, about to descend into the depths of a temple that shouldn't exist, for a God who succumbed to the awesome power of the Dark One. The whole situation reminded Jon of something the Doc once told him. 'Nothing is impossible, just improbable.' Those words certainly rang true these days.

There was no information regarding what the artifact was, only that it was supposed to be somewhere inside the temple. The science nerds all had theories, of course, but with no hard evidence to back them up the truth of the matter was still up for debate. As far as Jon was concerned, the only thing that mattered was that the artifact didn't fall into the wrong hands, namely, Donovan's.

Just thinking about that son of a bitch walking around when he should be as dead as Ixshebet caused him to seethe with rage. The Council had lied to him. Lied to Malcolm. The two of them were being set up to take a fall.

There was no reason for Jon to be sent on this mission. The Aussie's were taking care of the secrecy, the scientists were already on site and swarming inside the temple, and Jon's men had been there providing security since the opening had been discovered. This was just a way to separate him from Malcolm, from Eve, but Jon had to go. If the artifact was as important as everyone believed, he had to find it before Donovan could get his hands on it.

Still, he didn't have to walk blindly into a trap, which is what this was. His men were loyal to him, he had trained them well, taught them skills that they would never have learned on the outside. They respected him and his judgement. They might even violate orders to protect him, but he wouldn't bet to highly on that. They were first and foremost soldiers, and soldiers followed orders from the top down.

Unfortunately over the past few months a new influx of troops slowly insinuated themselves into just about every corner of Project Phoenix operations. Jon questioned this of course. Normally he personally approved the men and women under his command, but the Council was very adamant about smoothly integrating the newcomers into service.

Soon it was apparent that these new soldiers were different than the normal breed under Jonathan's command. They were good, too good to be fresh recruits, and they didn't sit right with Jon's gut feelings. He had his suspicions from the start, but it wasn't until he saw Donovan in the flesh that the alarm bells really started ringing in his head.

As the jet began it's descent, the turbulent air shook the cabin. He closed his laptop and pulled the belt across his lap.

'Okay Jon, time to meet the men who are going to try to kill you.'

"I'm sure you're wondering," Mal stopped and turned to face Allen, "why in the hell I've dragged you all the way over to the other side of the complex, just to meet someone."

Allen gave a slight nod.

"Well, hopefully the person in this next cell will be able to answer a few of your questions. No one has helped Project Phoenix more than this guest, she's given us so much and asked for so little. She's the reason why the Council and I don't see eye to eye, and once you meet her, I'm sure you'll understand why."

Mal moved to a darkened cell, so dark inside that it's occupant could not be seen. His fingers tapped out a combination of letters and numbers on the touch screen, but when nothing happened he cursed under his breath, "Bastards."

Again he tried his code but nothing happened. "They've locked me out, again."

Mal tried another approach. This time he pressed a call button and spoke into the tiny microphone pick-up. "Open the damn door Eric."

The responding voice echoed back. "I'm sorry Doctor, but I can't do that. You know that we are on a full lock-down."

Mal gritted his teeth. "Open... the... door."

"Mal, please. If I do what you want it'll be my ass on the firing line."

"Eric, if you don't open this door right now, I'll drag you to the firing line myself."

There was a long pause. Mal was about to make another threat when Eric responded again.

"Sorry about that Doctor, the Council has a Monitor here and I had to wait for them to move on. I'm going to open the door, but I'll have to close it after you are inside. I can only give you ten minutes, so what ever you need to do, do it quick. Tell her I said hello."

The audio clicked off at the same time the door to the cell slid open with a hiss and a squeal. Mal quickly entered and waved Allen in. "Come on, quick."

Allen slipped into the dark room just ahead of the doors sliding closed once more. Little light filtered into the cell, just enough to barely make out Malcolm's form standing directly in front of him. The air inside was comfortable, and lightly smelt of fresh fruit.

"Elissia, are you awake? It's me, Malcolm."

There was a slight sigh from the opposite side of the cell, the sound of silky fabric sliding against fabric, a shifting of weight on an unseen bed.

"I'm sorry for stopping in unannounced. Things are in motion that can't be put on hold."

Allen tried to peer past Malcolm, to see who he was speaking to in the dark, but could find nothing.

"I hope you don't mind, but I brought a friend."

A delicate feminine voice, almost child-like, drifted out of the nothing. "This better be good, Malcolm. I was having such wonderful dreams..."

It was then that Allen became aware of a pale green light which became brighter and brighter, illuminating the room in a soft glow. His eyes grew wide and his jaw hung slack as the source of the glow slowly stretched her long lean body taut on the bed.

"Who's this?" her voice purred as her eyes fixed on him.

"Elissia, I present to you, Dr. Allen Reed."

"The Dr. Reed?" The woman on the bed slithered from under the silk sheets, exposing more skin imbued with that inner glow, and raising the illumination of the room to a more natural level. "The man whom I've been hearing about for near thirty years?"

She was absolutely stunning. Her flawless skin, her willowy arms and legs, her narrow hips; the perfect nymph if there ever was one. Her friendly smile put Allen at ease as her eyes scanned him from top to bottom. "You never mentioned how cute he is."

"Easy now Lis," Mal chuckled. "I didn't bring him here for you to pounce on."

Allen found himself grinning dumbly, blushing even as Malcolm turned to face him.

"Allen, let me introduce Elissia."

Allen was so enamored by the woman's flirty behavior that he barely heard Mal's words, let alone understood them. His eyes flowed over the gentle curves of her body, hidden beneath a short dress made of a sheer material. It shifted as she moved, but never enough to reveal any of the treasures it protected. It clung to her skin in some places, hung loosely from others, accentuating her slight form.

She slid from the bed, her dress riding up teasingly close to revealing more but not enough. Once her feet touched the floor she slowly rose, standing nearly two feet shorter than Malcolm's six. She raised a delicate hand to move her Burgandy hair from her blue eyes, almond shaped eyes that turned slightly up towards her temples. The movement also revealed one of her tiny ears, which ended in a point much like those attributed to Elves, or Vulcans on Star Trek.

"Elissia, tone it down. I need him to be coherent, not love sick."

She pouted slightly, a gesture that nearly broke Allen's heart to see it. "Sorry Mally, just having my fun while I can. I get so few new visitors these days."

A wave of dizziness swept over Allen, the room spun and the floor felt as if it would drop away. Malcolm was there in an instant to help steady him. "Sorry, she does that to everyone she meets."

Allen felt his legs regain their strength and soon the room stopped spinning. "What... what just happened?"

"Elissia had you wrapped around her little finger, she was toying with you."

Allen looked up to find Elissia grinning innocently at him as she shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. "Please, I was just feeling him out. You never let me have fun anymore."

Allen stood on his own. "What is she?"

"That's awfully rude," Elissia growled. "What are you?"

Mal ignored her. "She's one of the many varieties of Pixie, but the question you should be asking is 'who is she'."

"Okay, who is she?"

Mal smiled. "She's my sister."