Episode 4.4: The Poltergeist

“Vonix? No.  They were always a bit outside our price range…but why do you ask?”

            

“Oh, uh no reason.  They’re just…pretty cool I guess.” Lyle looked at me with an odd expression but made no reply.  My mind briefly wandered back to Jeff, the weirdo who wanted to force me into his schemes to repopulate the world.  I smiled softly as I remembered the sound my hammer made as it shattered his arm. 

             

Lyle’s car was parked at the very back of an underground parking lot outside of the grocery store.  The lot itself looked like most other places—headless bodies thrown around everywhere, pools of blood, bags of food that had been discarded in the chaos.  All the death and destruction that was splattered on every wall and littered in every street had kind of lost its affect on me, but Lyle the baker? Lyle the family man?  He looked like he was going to barf—which got me thinking of my dad.

             

For as long as I could remember, my father was a ghost.  Not a quiet, brooding ghost that silently wanders through old hallways or shows up randomly in a Polaroid.  Dad was the kind of ghost that throws shit around and draws bloody pentagrams on your mirror while you’re sleeping.  A poltergeist.  That’s what my father was. 

             

He was tall and skinny like our new friend Lyle, but dad’s eyes didn’t look back at you.  They were like one of those two-way mirrors—you looked into them and you knew there was someone looking back at you, but you had no idea who it was.

             

It wasn’t just the abuse and pain that got to mom and me.  Bruises healed, blood could get cleaned up.  It was the Fear.  The Fear was a constant houseguest.  Each moment of each day was tainted with the knowledge that at any moment, the poltergeist could creep up behind us and sink its teeth in.

              

My mom always talked about leaving.  She came up with an escape plan and everything. 

             

“We could pack up and go stay with my sister up in Midvale,” she’d say, “She hates the bastard as much as we do.  I’d find work and you could go to school up there.  It’d work, by damn.” She said this at least once a week for five years.  Five years of dangling a vulgar hope in front of my nose and then backing off.  But one night, by damn, she made it.  She got out of that haunted house, even though it meant forgetting something that I thought was very important to her: Me.  Little Marla.  I woke up on the morning of her departure with the Fear already perched at the foot of my bed as it always was.  I went downstairs for breakfast like I always did.  But instead of walking into the kitchen to see my mom pouring me some Rice Chex (like she always did), all I saw was the poltergeist hovering over the kitchen sink, grasping a butcher knife.

            

“Your mom’s gone.” He spoke without any tinge of emotion.

              

“Where is she?” I asked.

            
“She’s just gone.” 

Gone.  

 I was eleven.  

 My chest filled with acid and I felt like I was going to dry heave.  How could she leave me? I thought bitterly.  This whole time, all those plans, and she left without me? Tears filled my eyes as I thought about the many long years that stretched out before me, the years that I had to spend alone inside a haunted house.

Episode 4.3: A Baker Named Lyle

We crept as silently as possible to the back of the store towards the bakery.  Loaves of French bread and rows of donuts waited indifferently behind their glass display cases, as if today were any other day.  Another sound pierced the air—this one more like the pots and pans were being kicked around on the floor.  There wasn’t much light coming from the windows that peeked into the kitchen, but I could see a slight, shadowy movement somewhere in the darkness. 

      

Minh had removed the Glock from her waistband and now held it rigidly, ready to blow a hole through anything slimy that we found back there.  I pressed the barrel of my shotgun up to the swinging door that led into the kitchen.  My mouth had gone dry, and I felt my heart thudding against my chest.  On my second step into the kitchen the lights flicked on, and I ducked behind the nearest counter.  Minh ducked back into the bakery.  I saw her pink and black hi-tops slide quickly out of the way.

             

“Is…is someone there?” I heard a shaky male voice ask.  My first instinct was to jump up and give the owner of the voice a big hug, but my experience with that crazy bastard back on campus made me think twice.

            

 “Yes.  There’s two of us,” I yelled back without standing up, “We’re not here to make any trouble.” The male voice gasped in relief.

            

 “Oh! Survivors! How…how wonderful.  Please, come out.  I’m not going to hurt you.” My paranoia had not quite subsided, and I poked my eyes up over the counter so I could see the owner of the voice.  He was an older guy, maybe mid 50’s.  He was beanpole tall and an unkempt mess of a comb-over clung halfheartedly to his balding head.  He was wearing an apron that was stained with blotches of dried blood. 

             

“Let me see your hands,” I yelled from my cover.  He raised them quickly, as he glanced around the kitchen.  He was unarmed, but that didn't necessarily mean he was stable.  I stood up and set my shotgun on the counter in front of me.  As soon as he saw me, he dropped his hands and let out a pitiful moan—one that hinted at both grief and excitement.

           

 “What are you doing here?” I asked as Minh entered the kitchen and stood behind the counter with me.

             

“I…I work here.  Or, I guess, I did before all of this happened.  I had just started my evening shift when I saw people’s heads buh-blowing up.  Customers, employees.  Some ran outside, but I…I wuh-was too scared.  I just waited here until the screaming stopped,” Tears started to well up in his eyes, “Muh-my wife and daughters…I duh-don’t even know if…if they’re still alive.” The man broke down the way a toddler does when he finds out he’s lost and alone in the middle of a department store.

             

“If…if only I could reach them…I…I…” His sentence was interrupted by another bout of sobbing. 

             

“Well,” I spoke as softly as I could, “Where is your family? Where do you all live?” The man regained a bit of his composure.  Rubbing the wetness from his eyes and face, he explained that he and his wife live in the Avenues, which was about seven or eight miles away.  I guess the violent arrival of extra terrestrial lifeforms had left him a bit too petrified to make the trip back to them.

            

 “So, right now they’re just as likely to be alive as anything else.  Let’s just go and find them.  I’m sure they’ve just holed up inside your house.” His face brightened a bit at this.

            

 “Duh-do you think so? Really?” I shrugged.

            

 “Only one way to find out.  We’ll go with you, right Minh?”

             

Nod, followed by a grin.  The baker introduced himself as Lyle Wallace and once we got packed, I found him to be kind of pleasant in an awkward way.  As we left the shattered remains of the front entrance to Dan’s behind us and stepped into the light of the morning sun, a hideous thought entered my mind.

             

“Lyle,” I asked, “Your wife and daughters…have they by chance been using Vonix cellphones?”

Episode 4.2: Grossery Chopping

The thing about humanity being totally blindsided by an invasion of parasitic aliens is that—for whatever reason—it makes the automatic doors in front of grocery stores not want to open for you anymore.  I learned this while I was loading a few extra shells into my gun as Minh and I approached the entrance to Dan’s.  The door didn’t open and the plexiglass shoved the barrel of my gun back at me, causing the stock to bite into my hip.  The pain was so sharp that I clutched the handle (trigger included) too hard and BANG! SHATTER! I had just blown a hole in the door.  Minh, who was standing behind me simply stared at the flurry of broken glass on the ground, demurely walked over to the not-automatic door, and pushed it open.

            

I was slightly comforted to see that the glittering spread of glass that I had created didn’t add much to the mayhem that had already arrived inside Dan’s Food and Drug.  Headless bodies clung to overturned newspaper stands and palates of bulk dog food.  They were splayed across checkout counters and stacked up against the icy doors of the frozen foods section.  I could still recognize that grocery store smell of floor cleaner and refrigerated food, but it was buried deeply inside the bitingly metallic stench of blood.  I was jolted out of my horrified trance when Minh grabbed my elbow.

            

“Shit! Minh! I coulda blown your head right off!” She just shrugged and held up a hideous fluorescent green and pink backpack.  I noticed that she was wearing one of equally offensive color. 

            

“Oh! Good idea, Minh!” I rifled through the pack to see how many little pockets I could fill, “I don’t suppose they had any backpacks that didn’t look like TRON puked all over them?”

            

Head shake.  Followed by a confused expression.

             

We filled Minh’s pack mostly with light stuff—beef jerky, fruit roll-ups, and some bags of mixed nuts.  I found a can opener and crammed as much canned meat, fruit, and vegetables as possible into my pack.  As I was doing this, two thoughts barged into my head.  First, between the two of us, we could only carry about a week and a half’s worth of food.  Second, just where in the hell were we going to go?  I stopped packing and thought about these two party crashers.  I told Minh to stop for a moment.  It didn’t make sense to pack without having some kind of destination in mind.  Where did all the other survivors end up? In an instant so quick it felt like a direct response to my question, I heard the earsplitting clatter of metal pots crashing to the floor.  It came from somewhere towards the back of the building.  I stepped in front of Minh and cocked a shell into place.

            

“Minh, I’m going to see what that was.  Do you want to stay here?”

            

Head shake.

         

“Do you want to come with me?”

           

Nod.

Episode 4.1

EPISODE 4: "SURVIVING"
STARRING: MARLA MANSLAUGHTER
SALT LAKE CITY, UT

I wish I could say that things got better after aliens arrived and blew up Fort Douglas.  But they didn’t.  I was glad to have found Minh, but she wasn’t much of a conversationalist. 

Because I’m clever. 

            

 Those were the last words I heard her speak.  After we left the ruins of Fort Douglas, she would only communicate by nodding for “yes” and shaking her head for “no.”

             

“Was that your car you were sleeping in?”

            

 Nod.

            

 “Do you know what year it is?”

            

 Nod.

            

 “Are your parents somewhere nearby”

            

 Head shake.

            

 “Are your parents still alive?”

            

 Head shake.

            

 “Do you want to come with me?”

            

 Nod.

            

I didn’t even learn her name until that afternoon when we ducked into an abandoned Jeep to hide from a flock of head-poppers.  After we reclined the seats and listened to the little snot walkers slither through the street, she reached over and grabbed my hand.  I felt a cold chain dig into my wrist and looked down to see what it was.  She was wearing one of those bracelets that look like pretty versions of hospital I.D. bands.  On the small card of metal that connected both ends of the chain, I read the name Minh Ha.  I lifted it from her wrist with my thumb and saw characters that I assumed to be her name in what looked like Japanese to my untrained American eyes.

            

 After the head-poppers had vacated the premises, I pointed to her bracelet.

             

“Is that your name?”

            

 Nod.

            

 “Minh Ha? Did I say it right?”

            

 Nod.

            

 “I’m Marla.” I shook her hand, and she smiled.

            

 She looked like she was about twelve or thirteen—that streak of orange in her shiny black hair could have only been the result of a misguided attempt at preteen rebellion.  I felt bad for the girl, but I secretly wished that my first companion in this new apocalyptic world would at least talk to me. 

            

 We wandered down Foothill Drive towards the Dan’s where I used to buy my weekly college rations of Easy Mac, Diet Coke, and chocolate-covered pretzels.  I was clinging to the idiot’s hope of running into someone who knew what the hell to do in a situation like this, which reminded me of the conversation I had with the mysterious and awesomely named Max Bodycount.  My memory of meeting him was now fuzzy and dreamlike and even though I was lugging an automatic shotgun that he gave me, I began to question whether or not the meeting ever really took place.

            

 Marla Manslaughter. 

            

 That’s what he “dubbed” me.  At the time, I guess it felt like I had some kind of destiny…like I was supposed to know what the hell to do in a situation like this.  But right now, as I wander down the automobile graveyard that was once Foothill Drive, as I sidestep broken glass and errant brain matter with a mute preteen in tow, I feel pretty damn helpless.

Meanwhile: A Conversation From Beyond

The death metal band Moloch had been making quite a name for itself. Sold out shows. Accolades from all the notable music media. Even a Grammy nomination. One thing that was different about Moloch’s rise to the top was that it was not motivated by money or status or even art. It was motivated for the express purpose to plunge the planet into a nightmare of chaos and pain.

As Boston was turning itself inside out with fire and panic, Balthazar Treason (lead vocals) sat comfortably with the other three members of Moloch within the luxurious confines of the Fifteen Beacon hotel drinking wine that was bottled before any of them were born. Balthazar reflected on that fateful meeting that the band had with Mr. Dionysius two years previous. All of the band members agreed to the terms. None of them were quite prepared to witness what they had unleashed on the world.

Their trance-like state was interrupted with a knock on their hotel room door. Marcus de Spazz (bass), a portly young man with a shaved head, stood up slowly and opened the door. The lights in the room dimmed slightly as Mr. Dionysius, slithered into the room. He was impeccably dressed, and his face was plastered with a reptilian grin. He was carrying a jet-black cell phone on a silver plate.

“Good evening, boys. Great show, great show. So great, in fact, that our Employer wishes to speak with you.” Dionysius snaked over to Balthazar and extended the plate with an exaggerated gesture of politeness. Balthazar hesitantly reached for the cell phone. He had never spoken with the Employer before, and he was slightly nervous.

“Y-yes? This is Balthazar.” He cringed ever so slightly when he heard the Employer’s voice. It reminded him of their music video for their single “Expunge” where the band had to fill their mouths with thick black Karo syrup.

“Balthazar…so good to finally speak with you. Well done in Boston. I understand we’re positively killing,” The Employer followed his statement up with a metallic, hacking laugh that made Balthazar cringe once more, “Listen. I need you and your boys to head up north, to Rhode Island. There’s a small problem that could turn into a big one if something is not done. Dionysius will have some new material ready for you. He insisted that we keep this on the down low, but since you boys are officially on the payroll, I thought I’d let you in on the plan. You’ll be summoning the Omniphage,” Balthazar thought about asking about the Omniphage, but the Employer anticipated him, “The Omniphage is a dear friend of mine. He’ll take care of this little speed bump on our world tour.”

“Yes, sir.” Was all Balthazar replied.

“Great. Take care boys. And keep up the good work.” The conversation ended, and Balthazar handed the phone back to Dionysius.

“Hey, D? What’s a…an omelet face?” A series of high pitched giggles wormed their way out of Dionysius’s mouth.

“You mean Omni-phage. Oh, that’s too funny. You’ll see soon enough. Just play the show that I book you.”

“Okay. Cool.” Balthazar took a few steps to the window and stared blankly down at the streets. Flames were consuming cars, food stands, buildings, and people. He hadn’t expected his music career to be built on the blood of innocents. Better theirs than his, he thought absently. Better theirs than his.

Episode 3.7: "Vegas, Baby"

The three of us decided that the best course of action was to get as far away from Omni-Com as possible. The plan was to head for Las Vegas, where Omni-Com’s west coast servers were located. She reasoned that if we could somehow shut down those servers, we might have a chance to keep this “virus” from spreading. I had my misgivings, but it was kind of a badass strategy.

We entered the interstate at a little after six PM. Veronica was plowing through her contact list. With every person that she reached, the conversation eventually turned to something called Protocol Epsilon. When she had finished her phone conversations, I asked her about it.

“Ira…” she sounded frustrated and exhausted, “I’ve already told you that there are things about the company that you and I can’t talk about. I’d lose my job if…”

“Excuse me, miss,” Valya interrupted, “From the look of things back there, I’d say you’ve lost your job already.” My grandma’s cool blue eyes were magnified by the huge beer bottle glasses that never left their perch on her nose. Surprisingly, Veronica laughed.

“Yes…I suppose you’re right.”

“Baba, this is Veronica. I didn’t get the chance to introduce her, because, you know, we were running from a robot that was wearing Chet.” They shook hands, and I felt the mood lighten slightly.

“Protocol Epsilon,” Veronica began, “Is an emergency procedure. I guess it’s no secret that Omni-Com has been dabbling in the field of artificial intelligence. Well, in the event that an AI becomes compromised, the company is to enact Protocol Epsilon, which raises emergency firewalls around all company networks.”

“That sounds like a good thing.” I muttered.

“Yes, it is a good thing. The problem is…” Veronica paused for what seemed like an eternity, “Nobody believes me. The company networks are…vulnerable.”

“Shit.”

“Irochka, do not use such language in front of a lady.”

“Sorry, Baba.”

“And to the lady.”

“Sorry, Veronica. Just how many subsidiary companies does Omni-Com have?” There was a brief pause as her synapses fired.

“Omni-Com has seventy-five subsidiaries in thirty-three different states.”

“Oh. That’s…that’s quite a bit. Will shutting down the servers even work?” Sweat had glued my back to the car seat and I gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“If we get there in time, yes. OMNOS isn’t exactly on its feet yet, so there’s a good bet it will need some time to upload itself. If we shut down those servers, it will be cut off. Can we stop for some food, Ira?” I was so preoccupied with thinking about Veronica’s plan that she had to repeat her last request.

“Oh, sure.” I pulled off at the next exit. We found a Popeye’s Chicken and sat down for a slightly demure meal of chicken wings and coleslaw. The cashier gave Veronica a slightly terrified look.

“Oh. The blood…” She said in a detached voice. Before we sat down, she headed to the ladies’ room to wash her hair.

“She seems nice,” Valya whispered, “how long have you known her?”

“I just met her today, baba. I don’t think she likes me much, though.”

“Don’t worry, Irochka. If this computer destroys the world, she may not have much of a choice.” My grandma. She sure had a unique way of putting things.

When Veronica arrived, we ate our food quickly. The sun was setting as we entered the interstate once more. The absurd reality of the situation sunk in as we crossed the Nevada border. A beautiful blond scientist, my grandma, and I were going to Las Vegas to shut down a rogue AI. If I wasn’t scared shitless, I’d think this was pretty damn cool.

Episode 3.6 "The Chet-Thing"

Our brief reprieve was interrupted by the chime of the Omni-Com paging system.

“Ira Holtz and Veronica Estrella, security has been dispatched to kill you slowly and painfully. Have a nice day.” We both shot up, hearts pumping.

“What…what does that mean?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

“I…I don’t know, Ira. The building’s automated security is fairly limited and…” There was a sharp, metal on metal grinding sound coming from the elevator terminals. Veronica drew closer to me as the sound came closer. I was woefully unprepared for what entered the atrium.

At first, I thought it was Chet the head security guard. As it got closer, however, I realized that it wasn’t Chet at all. It was something that was wearing Chet. A swatch of congealed blood streaked from Chet’s mouth all the way down his security uniform. His arms and legs looked like socks stuffed with bricks and thick black cables coiled around his neck and plunged into various head wounds. He trudged towards us with slow, jerking steps and the grinding metal sound grew unbearably loud.

Veronica started screaming, and I may have wet my pants. The Chet-thing saw us, and it emitted a gurgling sound that pushed more clotted blood out of its gaping mouth. I was about to be killed by an honest to shit cyborg. At least it’s kind of a cool death.

The screech of tires coming from outside broke me from my near-death musings. I turned quickly to see my grandma’s boat of a station wagon fishtailing through the parking lot.

“Veronica! Look! It’s my grandma!” I squinted to see my grandma waving her hand frantically, motioning for me to get out of the way. She…she was going to drive her car right through the doors.

The Chet-thing had almost reached us when I grabbed Veronica and pulled her out of the way. We hit the deck, and I covered our heads. The shriek of shattering glass and the revving of an ancient engine filled the air. I heard the station wagon crumple as it crashed into the Chet-thing. For an instant, I was terrified that my grandma was injured in the crash, but as we stood up I saw her exiting her totaled vehicle.

“Irochka! Are you hurt? What was that thing? What’s going on, Irochka!” I helped Veronica to her feet and grabbed my grandma’s arm.

“I’ll explain later, baba. We have to get out of here right now, though.” We sidestepped the broken glass doors and mangled security grating and ran to my car. As Veronica and my grandma got in, I took one last look at Omni-Com. Whatever was growing inside of that building was a world-ender. And Veronica knows something about it. Was it safe to trust her?

Episode 3.5 "Baba Valya"

“Give me the phone, Veronica. I have an idea.” She handed back my phone without looking at me fingers still massaging her eyeballs. I figured that the one person least likely to be affected by a technologic uprising would be Grandma Valya. Not only did she mistrust any piece of technology that wasn’t available in Communist Russia, she lived fifteen minutes away. She’s going to give me her special blend of Slavic-Jew grief for only calling when I need something, but given the choice between a scathing guilt trip or death at the place of my employment, it was a no-brainer. I dialed my grandma and prepared myself.

“‘Allo?” her husky Russian accent was disarmingly comforting at this particular moment in time.

“Baba Valya? It’s Irochka! How are you?” I shot an embarrassed look at Veronica as I revealed Grandma Valya’s pet name for me, but she was too busy jamming her fingers in her eyes to notice.

“Ah! Irochka! So long since your last call. It’s good to hear your voice.”

“It’s good to hear from you too, babushka. Um…listen, I’m kind of in trouble right now and…”

“Irochka,” She cut me off abruptly, “Have you seen the news? The scientists in…New…New Mexico think they have gotten a message from the…how do you say it? Kosmos? Very interesting, Irochka.” My grandma. Whenever something nerdy happens, she automatically thinks that I’ll find it absurdly interesting.

“Wow! That’s great, grandma!” I did my best to feign politeness given the dire circumstances within which I have found myself, “Hey listen, could you do me a favor?” I winced as I asked this question. For a brief millisecond, I seriously reconsidered taking my chances with the self-aware supercomputer.

“Irochka, Irochka…” Out come the wolves. I can almost see the white-blond bun of her hair bobbing back and forth as she shakes her head in disappointment. “Five years we’ve lived in the same state, and you only come to see your lonely babushka on the holidays? You only call when you need a favor? So much did your dedushka and I sacrifice to bring your mother to this country, only to have a grandson who won’t even come by for dinner? Oi, bozhe moi…” My grandma’s scolding was interrupted by an unexpectedly loud click-clack. Veronica and I looked up to see additional metal grilles descend from the ceiling and lock themselves into the floor. Veronica’s eyes widened. We were completely caged in.

I slowly brought my phone back up to my ear, “…and when I call you, it’s always work, work, work. It’s not good for a young boy like you to work so much. When do you have time to meet a girl, Irochka? When do…” It killed me to do it, but I rudely interrupted my grandmother.

“Baba, listen,” I gasped, “I’m really, really sorry to interrupt you, but I’m in a very dangerous place right now, and I need you to drive to Omni-Com where I work and pick me and my friend up!”

“Irochka, you are in danger?”

“Yes! Yes babushka! Can you please help me?”

“Oh bozhe! I’m coming, Irochka.” I put my phone back in my pocket and wiped the sweat from my hands.

“Okay. My grandma is on her way.”

“Your…your grandma? Did you just say you called your grandma?”

“Yeah…?”

“Dammit, Ira! Did you actually think about this plan? All you’ve done is thrown one more person into a dangerous situation. How in the hell is involving your grandmother going to help us in any way, shape, or form?” I paused to consider this question.

“There was this one time when I was a kid. I had begged my dad to drive one of these new ATV’s that our family had bought. There’s no way I was old enough, but my dad gave in. He figured that our back yard was safe enough, you know? Anyway, I was doing fine until took a sharp turn on a slope and the ATV flipped over on me. I thought it was over, but it seemed like as soon as the ATV crashed, it was being lifted off of me. It…it was my grandma. She’s like, ninety pounds, but she was lifting this big ol’ ATV off of me. This…kind of feels like a similar situation.” Veronica stared at me with that searching, analytical gaze that I’d seen several times now.

“Well, if we’re waiting, let’s move closer to the door so she can see us.” The Omni-Com atrium was a wide, circular expanse. It had a hospital feel to it, and the silence was unnerving. Veronica and I sat down on the floor and I made a few feeble attempts at small talk. She was preoccupied, to say the least. I could almost hear her synapses firing.

Episode 3.4 "Cut Off"

It had taken a good half hour of walking to confirm what we both knew deep down: the entire lobby had been fenced off from the inside. I stared helplessly at the passing clouds and Omni-Com’s well-landscaped courtyard. We were in a cage, and as far as I could tell, there was no way out. That’s when an idea hit me thirty minutes too late.

“Hey,” I began, clearing my throat, “Why don’t we just call the cops? I’ve got my cell phone with me and…”

“I already tried that, Ira,” Veronica sounded defeated, “My phone wigged out as soon as I dialed out. It’s completely dead now. The land lines are fried too.” Curiously, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and switched it on. Full bars, no problem.

“Hey, my phone’s fine. Look.” Veronica snatched it from my hands and quickly scanned its screen.

“You’re right…the Nebula Drive must not have…wait, did you sync your phone with Nebula?” Nebula was Omni-Com’s own online storage space. We had this whole long staff training on how to sync all of our personal electronics with Nebula, so no important information would get lost or compromised. Little secret: I never synced my stuff with Nebula. I don’t know why, but the whole process made me a bit nervous.

“Um…no?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling you?”

“Dammit, Ira! Did you sync your phone with Nebula? Yes or no?”

“Oh. No.” Another smile crept across Veronica’s face.

“I swear, Ira,” She began, “If Omni-Com still existed, I’d fire you. But, since it doesn’t…thanks for being such a slacker.”

“You’re welcome, I guess,” I blushed slightly, “So, will my phone work?”

“It should.” There was an uncomfortable silence as I waited for Veronica to reach the police. She was pretty, despite the fact that she was soaked in sweat and blood. There was something about her cold blue eyes that made me not want to trust her…but that made her all the more alluring. My ogling was interrupted by Veronica’s diamond-hard voice.

“Yes, I’m stuck inside the Omni-Com building. There was a security malfunction and…” She was cut off by the operator.

“You what? No, ma’am, this isn’t a prank…what? No, you don’t understand, I’m stuck…no! Wait! Dammit!” She pressed her fingers into her eyes. Her teeth were clenched tightly, and I could see the delicate skin covering her neck crease with tense veins.

“What happened, Veronica? Are they coming?” I asked softly.

“No, dammit. They’re not. Apparently, the police department received notice this morning that Omni-Com’s phones would be malfunctioning, and that calls received from the company or about the company should be disregarded. Basically, they think we’re a phone line malfunction…how in the hell did this happen?”

“But you called from my personal phone,” I began, “How can they ignore that?”

“Anything about Omni-Com isn’t getting attention. The company has hundreds of different phone lines…there was no way for the police to distinguish yours from theirs. Dammit!” At this point, the facts were right in front of me. Whatever Veronica is keeping secret has done the following terrible things today: First, it called the police and diverted their attention away from Omni-Com. Second, it called all of the company’s employees in and killed them. Third, it locked us in and won’t let us out. I may be a nerd for fearing the possibility of an AI attack, but really, what else could this be?

Episode 3.3 "Veronica"

“I’m Veronica, by the way.”

“Ira,” I replied dryly.

“C’mon,” She said quickly, “It’s safer up here, but probably not for much longer. We need to find a way out of the building.” As we wandered the perimeter of Omni-Com’s stainless steel and glass atrium, a billion questions bubbled up in my mind.

“So…could you tell me what exactly happened today?” I asked. Veronica paused as she assessed this question.

“I can’t tell you exactly what happened, no. It’s all classified. What I can tell you is that around 9:30 this morning, we experienced a security malfunction, which caused several other systems to consequently malfunction.” Her response sounded vaguely rehearsed. I waited for a few minutes to see if there was any more to Veronica’s succinct explanation. There wasn’t.

“A security malfunction?” I stammered, “A…a security malfunction is when an alarm goes off when no one is around or…or…when you get locked out of your computer…but this? I mean, most of the staff is dead and you’re covered in blood! I don’t think ‘malfunction’ quite covers it.”

“Look, Ira,” a tone of genuine concern tinged her voice, “I’ve told you all that I can. The system is malfunctioning, and we have to get out of the building. What else do you really need to know?” I pursed my lips, accepting the fact that she wasn’t going to budge on this topic.

“So, are all the floors going haywire?” I asked in an effort to change the subject.

“I…I think so. I heard screaming all the way down the stairwell. Thank God for stairs. The elevators…well, they’ve been affected by the malfunction. They’re more like coffins now.” I thought about what Veronica was saying, and suddenly I remembered an incident from last week that seemed meaningless at the time, but for some reason it resonated with today’s events. I was walking past Paul, the bleach-blond wiseass that was my floor manager, while he was having a conversation with one of the big time suits from way upstairs. The suit said something about a program called OMNOS, and Paul said something about its installation on the fifteenth floor’s computers. I decided to ask Veronica about this.

“Maybe this has something to do with OMNOS,” I said, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about. Veronica stopped walking and looked at me. Her eyes appeared to be struggling to bore into my head in order to extract more information without having to converse with me.

“Who told you about OMNOS?” She sounded suspicious.

“Huh? Oh, nobody…I just…I overheard my floor manager talking about it last week. I heh…I thought it sounded scary. Like if an AI were to wake up and try to kill us, it’d probably be called OMNOS.” Again, Veronica’s calculating eyes were scanning my face, trying to extract some valuable piece of information out of me. It caused me to stammer, “I mean…I don’t really think that’s the case…I’m just…”

“A huge nerd?” Veronica finished my sentence for me.

“Yeah. That.” I felt my face turn red as I realized how stupid I must have sounded.

“OMNOS is just the new security program. It’s supposed to automatically adapt to and destroy any malware or virus that comes its way.” Despite the authority that had surfaced in her voice, Veronica didn’t sound quite convinced that OMNOS was entirely harmless.

Episode 3.2 "The Benefits of Sleeping In"

A few minutes after I decided to head up to my floor, I heard the chime of Omni-Com’s paging system, and heard the following message: “Ira Holtz, please report to the fifteenth floor.” This made me more uncomfortable. How did anyone know that I had arrived if no one is at reception? Ignoring the small part of me that kept repeating “something is definitely wrong here,” I walked past the empty reception desk, and headed towards the elevators. As soon as I rounded the corner, I heard a scream reverberating off of the walls within the stairwell, along with frantic, pounding footsteps. The stairwell door slammed open, and a woman that I partially recognized as someone from the robotics division bolted out.

“Run! Go! Go!” There was a feral panic in her voice. Yeah. Something was definitely wrong here.

As the woman got closer, I could see that she was nursing a slight limp. Her white lab coat was stained with patches of blood, which also matted her short blond hair making it cling to the right side of her face.

“Are…are you okay?” I asked, realizing that I sounded like an idiot. Of course she wasn’t okay.

“Just move! We need to get out of here, and fast.” We ran back towards reception just to see metal grilles slide down from the ceiling, blocking our access to the doors that led outside.

“Dammit!” The woman hissed, “Please tell me you’re a security guard who miraculously has the keys to this side of the building.” I shrugged, wishing that I could say, “Yes ma’am!” and save the day. But reality seldom works that way.

“Nope. Sorry. I’m just one of the programmers from the fifteenth floor.” I replied sheepishly.

“The fifteenth…how did you get down here?” She sounded impressed, which made me hesitant to provide the real answer.

“Well, I…slept in. I got here about ten minutes ago.” To my surprise, she started to laugh.

“You’re alive because you’re too damn lazy to get up on time?” More laughter. Her face lit up beneath the layer of sweat and blood that it had accumulated.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to make fun. You’re actually extremely lucky. If you got here on time, you’d probably be dead by now.” A jolt of panic shot through me as I considered these words. Had my alarm gone off as scheduled today, I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now because apparently, I’d be dead.

Episode 3.1

EPISODE 3: "OMNOS COMETH"
STARRING: IRA THE GEEK
SAN JOSE, CA



My knuckles had long since turned white as my shaky hands gripped the steering wheel of my Ford Focus. It had been roughly two hours since we escaped Omni-Com, and even though most of its employees were now corpses within its walls, I hadn’t heard a peep about it on any of the news channels I tried on the radio. Every five minutes I would change stations, gradually turning up the volume to drown out the snoring that was coming from the back seat where my grandmother was dozing. Veronica was sitting in the passenger seat with her unblinking eyes fixed steadily on the road in front of us. Her blond hair was pulled back in a short ponytail and was still wet from the process of washing out the blood of her coworkers. Small, dried bits of it were still trapped in the contours of her ear, signifying the speed at which we got out of town.

As the interstate unfolded before me, my mind struggled to comprehend the events that took place at Omni-Com this morning. Everything—the malfunctioning maintenance systems, the screams, and the blood—started with a simple automated phone call that was received by all Omni-Com employees last night, and eventually led roughly 99% of them do their deaths. I’m alive right now because a power outage shut off my alarm clock. I woke up somewhere around ten and frantically threw my clothes on, leaving without showering or eating breakfast.

When I pulled in to the Omni-Com parking lot, it was packed. I thought that this meeting was just for my software development department, but it looked like the whole damn company was there. The sliding glass doors slid open as I hurriedly approached them, but there was no one at reception to tell me where the meetings were taking place. I thought it was a bit odd to leave the entrance unmanned. Usually the atrium of Omni-Com is bustling with movement, but today it was eerily silent and devoid of people. I wandered around the atrium for a few minutes, hoping to bump into someone that could tell me where I was supposed to be, but the place was like a ghost town.

Episode 2.7: "Rock Band"

“Guys, something’s coming. Fast.”

“I see them,” Randall replied with a slight quiver to his voice, “Two of ‘em. Coming from where we left the bus.”

“Shit!” Maxine burst out, “Let’s get back into the bathroom before it sees us!”

“I think it might be too late,” Elvis said as we huddled together, “Whatever it is, it knows we’re here. Grab somethin’ to fight with!” Up until Elvis uttered these words, I was filled with absolute panic. We had something to fight with.

“The amp!” I shouted, “It is a weapon! It’ll kill these bastards!”

“Ed, we’re about to be attacked and possibly flayed alive. Please get a grip.” I could hear the despair in Maxine’s voice.

“Trust me,” I said calmly, “I need someone to bring me my guitar, plug it into the amp, and aim it towards those things coming at us.” In a few minutes, I felt my guitar shoved into my waiting arms.

“You better be right, blind man,” Randall growled as he connected my instrument to the amp, “It’s plugged in, but there’s no power cord! How you gonna use this thing?”

“Just aim the amp and stand back!” I yelled, hoping and praying that something miraculous would happen. The fiery blob had now gotten close enough for me to see its twisted shape, and I could hear its razor chains clink together as it ran. I slashed my hand across the strings, and immediately felt my instrument charge and pulsate with electricity. What happened next was quite extraordinary. The guitar became warm in my hands, and I could feel each note explode from the amp as if I was firing a submachine gun. I heard brief shrieks of pain, a diarrhea-like splatter, and then a series of cheers from Randall, Elvis, and Maxine.

“Day-umn, bro!” Elvis chuckled, “You vaporized the hell outt’ve ‘it! A blue laser beam shot outta the amp and blew that thing right off its legs!” The praises and laughter continued for a few more minutes until Maxine said, “Anyone have any idea what the hell that thing was? I know more like it attacked us last night, but what are they? Where’d they come from?”

“What did it look like?” I asked, hoping for something different than a human made out of fire and rage.

“It looked, y’know human, but…all mangled and bloody. The thing had chains wrapped around its body, like it was welded to its skin. Oh, it was wearin’ some sort of iron helmet, so I couldn’t see its face. Y’all think there could be a weird ass cult of godless sodomites out here?” Randall’s description made my skin crawl slightly.

“Who cares what it was,” Elvis chimed in, “That amp over there dusted it off pretty nice, and that’s all that matters to me.” There was a moment of silence. Pieces of a strange puzzle suddenly formed themselves together into a clear picture. Our immediate future was clouded by uncertainty and darkness. But we didn’t have to face it alone and unarmed.

“The signs are pretty clear. We’re musicians and the amp turns music into a weapon. We’ve been given an opportunity to fight whatever these things are, and I think we have to take it.” My companions waited for a few moments, and I was worried that my feeble attempt at a battle cry had fallen flat.

“So…” Elvis began, “You’re suggesting that in light of the apocalypse, we form a band?” Maxine and Randall looked strangely satisfied with this idea.

“Hell, I’m game,” Elvis continued, “What’re we gonna call ourselves?”

Episode 2.6: "The Donkey Harbinger"

“Ed? Ed wake up! We need to talk outside.” It was Maxine’s voice, and she sounded unexpectedly excited. As I stood up, Maxine took my hand and led me outside, which was mercifully stench-free. I could hear Randall and Elvis speaking quickly, along with a braying sound that was completely unexpected.

“Is…is there a donkey out here?” I asked, fully aware of how stupid this question sounded.

“Yeah! And it brought all our stuff from the bus with it!”

“That ain’t all,” Elvis sounded amazed, “It brought this shiny-lookin’ amp along too. We were wonderin’ if it was yours, since it don’t belong to any of us.”

“Uh, I didn’t bring an amp with me,” I replied, “Just my guitar and my bag.” My weird dream suddenly came back to me.

“Wait. Let me touch the amp.” Maxine led me a few steps and placed my hands on the amp’s outer casing. Smooth like glass; grill like a surface covered in cool water. I let out an audible gasp.

“What is it?” Asked Randall inquisitively.

“This is going to sound nuts,” I began, “But I think this is some kind of weapon. I dreamed about it.” There was a moment of mutual silence. I could tell each person was trying very hard to deliver a reply. Elvis was the first to speak.

“Weapon? Against what? Old folks?” He didn’t seem convinced.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I had a dream last night, and this amp was in it.” Randall soon joined the conversation.

“Let’s just back up a bit,” He took a deep breath and continued, “First, do any of you find it strange that not only are we the only survivors from that damn bus, but that we’re all musicians? I mean, that crazy shit that went down last night brought us al together. Maybe there’s a reason for it that we don’t completely understand.”

“What’s to understand?” Elvis replied sharply, “Survival’s the name of the game now. We gotta start thinkin’ about what we’re gonna do for food and water and shit. I’ll be down with startin’ up a band with y’all right after we answer the important questions!” From here, the conversation deteriorated into a series of rhetorical questions and smug comebacks. A long, terrifyingly close scream ended the argument, however. Sweat coated my forehead as I began to notice a small, fiery blob taking shape in my field of vision.

Episode 2.5: "The God Amp"

Every impulse in my body was telling me not to sit on this nasty bathroom floor, but I could already feel my legs stiffen and ache as they struggled to support my exhausted frame. I moved my back against the wall and slid down to the floor, making sure my hands came nowhere near it. I felt Maxine sit down next to me. Her perfume mixed with a slight hint of perspiration, providing me with a much-needed reprieve from the noxious fecal stench that dominated the small room. Randall sat down across from me, his back to the door. I heard the click-clack of a deadbolt sliding into place.

“G’night everyone,” he said quietly, “If you can call it that.” I was positive that I wouldn’t be able to sleep, considering the madness that we had just experienced. Not to mention the fact that I was sitting upright in a restroom that was long overdue for a cleaning. All the same, I felt myself nod off. It had been a long, bizarre day, and that tends to take it out of a person.

My slumber was plagued by strange dreams, the most vivid of which found me in the middle of a vacant interstate somewhere in the desert. I could feel the hot sun beating down on my exposed neck and arms while I walked the length of this uninhabited freeway. Soon, I could feel a brief respite from the scorching sun, as if a cloud was passing by. I tripped on something hard, and bent down to examine it. It was the size and shape of a guitar amp, but something was strange about it. The outer casing was smooth like glass, and my fingers slid across the grill as if it was a surface covered with cool water.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I stood up to greet the hand’s owner, but there was no one there.

“Hello?” I called, hoping for a reply. I waited for what seemed like several hours until I heard the unmistakable strumming of an acoustic guitar. The sound eventually took the form of an achingly familiar voice.

“Welcome to the fifth dimension,” said the voice quietly, “You’ve been brought here to gain important knowledge that will help you in the days and months to come.”

“What knowledge?” I asked. My voice felt thick and dissonant, and it disrupted the natural harmonies that I could hear blending around me.

“The object at your feet is a weapon.” Where had I heard this voice? It was right there at the tip of my memory, but I couldn’t recall the name.

“What exactly is this weapon?” Again, my voice sounded harsh and grating.

“It is called the God Amp. With it, your music becomes weaponry. When the time comes to use it, you must not hesitate,” I detected a change in the background music, “I must go soon. Do you have any other questions?”

“Yeah,” I blurted. For some reason, questions like “So what is this God Amp?” and “Enemy? What enemy?” were pushed to the background.

“Who are you?” There was a pause, as if the voice was debating whether or not to provide an answer.

“I have inhabited many forms and taken many shapes. I travel through the strum of the electric guitar, and through the deep throbbing beat of the bass drum. I am your only hope.”

Episode 2.4: "Introductions"

There’s something about puking in front of people that makes you feel somehow ashamed…like you don’t want others to see what food looks like after it's been in your particular stomach. I decided to take the initiative and break the awkward silence that had settled in our smelly bathroom sanctuary.

“What exactly happened on the bus?”

“Shee-yit! You didn’t see it?” the twangy voice replied.

“Well, no.” I pointed to my sunglasses.

“Why you wearin’ shades? You can’t see shit wearin’ those when it’s dark out.”

“He’s blind, dumbass.” The black dude replied.

“Oh, damn! Apologies, man. Given the pure, pants-pissing terror of the evening, I’d say bein’ blind is an advantage, if it’s any consolation.” Twangy-Voice sounded skinny and lean, like some kind of wild dog.

“After…I didn’t get your name?” The woman had begun speaking, addressing the black dude.

“Name’s Randall.” He replied.

“After Randall took the wheel and stopped the bus, there was something waiting out there in the dark for us. All I could see where chains made of razor wire slicing people in half when I saw you two take off.” Her syllables came out in short bursts, like a semi-automatic weapon. I pictured her with short hair and pursed lips.

“You told us to run, man,” Randall said to me, his voice painting me a mental picture of a soldier or a cop, “How’d you know something was coming if you can’t see anything?” This was a question that I was still trying to answer myself.

“I dunno," For some reason, I felt compelled to lie about what I 'saw,' "I just…I thought I heard something from that direction and didn’t want to find out what it was.”

“Well, it may have saved our lives, so I guess we should be thankin’ you. What’s your name?”

“Ed. Ed Devlin. I’m traveling to Boston from Toomsboro, Georgia.” I reached out my hand, which Randall enveloped in his. The dude must be huge.

“I guess after sharing a near-death experience, introductions are appropriate.” The woman replied, “I’m Maxine Gunn. I’ve been living in Baton Rouge. What’s your deal, truckstop?” I assumed she was talking to the dude with the twangy voice.

“Name’s Elvis Wickham. Came out from Dodge City, Kansas, and this has been the absolute weirdest day of my entire life.” I heard the sound of water running and quick, slurping gulps as Elvis drank deeply from the faucet. I hoped it wasn’t the one that I puked in.

“How about you Randall?” Maxine asked.

“Yeah, Randall Cobb. I’m from Morristown, New Jersey.”

“Well,” Elvis began as he sat down on the floor, “Now that we know each other’s names and have nearly been flayed alive by sadomasochists, I guess we’re ready enough to spend the night in a filthy bathroom together.” We all murmured some form of agreement.

Episode 2.3 "Bathroom of Solace"

“Something…something’s coming,” I muttered and pointed in the direction of these three shapes that I could see for some completely unknown reason, “We’ve got to get out of here.” At this point, the shapes broke into a full sprint, and the screaming started up again. I heard the sound of a jagged knife cutting through steak (not chains ripping through what was left of the passengers), the man next to me grabbed my shoulders and yelled, “Move!” once more.

We ran for what seemed like hours. My legs didn’t want to cooperate, and my lungs burned. I kept looking back towards our bus and felt somewhat relieved that the blazing forms had subsided, leaving me to my familiar blank vision.

“Quick! Let’s duck in here!” I heard a panicked woman gasp. A door hinge squeaked open, and I was taken inside with the rest of the survivors. The thick smell of stale air freshener mingled with human waste led me to believe that we had just ducked into a rest stop bathroom that was in dire need of some maintenance. The stench nearly caused me to gag, but on the plus side, I wasn’t getting sliced in half by razor wire.

“I bet some weird shit has gone down in here!” Another voice, nasal and twangy, echoed out against the restroom walls.

“Did you guys see those…things? What the hell were they?” This was the woman again, speaking in a slightly more calm tone of voice that revealed a subtle Southern drawl, “Oh shit! And what about those people’s heads popping like zits! I’ve never seen so much blood!” Her description confirmed the grim suspicion that was gnawing at me. Instinctively, I ran to the sink and turned on the cold water so I could rinse what I now knew to be blood off of my face. My heart felt like it was trying to break out of my chest and I was having trouble breathing. What in the hell was going on? Exploding heads? Fiery creatures wrapped in razor wire? And I swear this must be the filthiest rest stop in the state.

“You doin’ okay, Shades?” The Southern woman spoke, “You’re lookin’ greenish.” I placed my hands on the edge of the sink and breathed in a cloud of toilet smell. I thought the oxygen would help clear my head, but it didn’t. It made me barf. I did my best to guess where the sink was, but I heard some of it splatter on the ground at my feet. Amid surprised shouts of disgust, the woman grabbed my shoulders.

“Oh, dude! Here, let’s have you sit down for a bit. Come on. It’s okay.” She led me to a bench that must have been bolted to the wall. I was grateful for this puzzling addition to the rest room. The guy who yanked me off the bus didn’t seem to be fazed by my sudden surge of puke. He was talking quietly to himself, working out the events that had just transpired.

“They looked like people, but they moved way too fast…and the chains…they were almost like…a part of their body?” I couldn’t tell for sure, but he sounded black. Based on the voices and breathing that I could hear inside the slightly cramped bathroom, I guessed that there were only four of us, including me. I felt dumb for puking all over the place. Now we had that awesome smell to deal with. In order to occupy my mind, I thought about my dad. I hope he’s okay.

Episode 2.2: "What Could Be Worse Than Exploding Heads?"

Whoever took the wheel managed to bring the bus to a shaky halt, and I heard frantic footsteps racing to the exit. I followed suit, making my way through the aisle as best I could. Every other seat that my hands touched was covered in the same sticky fluid that I could feel running down my neck, and I kept tripping over some lumpy obstructions that were splayed across the aisle. Even though I had no other explanation for it, I kept telling myself that I wasn’t touching blood, and that I wasn’t tripping over corpses.

Eventually, I called out for help and someone grabbed my shoulder crying “Move! I gotcha, just move!” as he led me outside.

“What…what’s going on?” I panted as our feet hit the hard interstate asphalt.

“The driver,” he spoke in a baritone that was shaking to keep control of itself, “his head…it just splattered all over the windshield. Then…other passengers…their heads just…burst like water balloons. Don’t know why…” The remaining passengers rallied around us, frantically panting while shouting out unanswerable questions.

During this roadside pandemonium, something started to take shape in the area behind my impotent eyeballs. My blindness has been with me since birth, so I don’t even know how to describe it, but three separate forms started to insert themselves into the familiar blankness that usually covers my eyes. The forms looked the way that a blazing campfire feels when it’s too close to your skin. They started to gain intensity until they began to take on the shapes of people, as I understood them. Two arms, two legs, one head…but there was something slightly not human about these fiery shapes that were materializing before me. Where their eyes should be, there were two painful looking slits; thin and sharp like razorblades. Strands hung from their arms, legs, and shoulders and as they drew closer, I could see that they were chains. Whatever the hell happened on the bus was just the beginning.