Archive for the ‘Conan Young’ Category

THE OTHERS: By Conan Young

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

<<Hackman 24.JUN.2072>>
“Nobody trusts me anymore.  I don’t have to justify myself to those bastards.  I know what’s going on.  Symptoms started showing up several days ago.  It’s gotten to all of them.  It has their faces and memories.  That’s how it lures you into a false sense of security.  Not me though.  Godfried says there’s a weapons cache in the wind turbine control room.  Not if I get there before he does.”
 
<<Godfried 24.JUN.2072>>
“Why did I ever transfer to this desolate place?  It’s always a hundred below outside and the wind never lets up.  I suppose someone has to run tests on the ice core samples if we’re ever to solve this global warming problem.  Yeah, here I am, thinking about my research at a time like this.  I’ll be damned if I let one of those creatures sabotage the fuel repository.”
 
<<Hackman 24.JUN.2072>>
“Just my luck.  At this rate, I’ll be lucky to scrounge up a spare ammo clip.  What do those things need guns for anyway?  They’re all working against me.  Godfried has the only working flamethrower too.  How do I know he’s not one of them?”
 
<<Godfried 24.JUN.2072>>
“Came across Blake, or something that resembled him.  He had the shakes real bad, eyes bulging, smelled like he’d soiled himself.  Was rambling incoherently that I was one of them.  I fired first.  Had to burn his body to keep the infection from spreading.”
 
<<Hackman 25.JUN.2072>>
“I’m out of options.  Out of ammo is more like it.  The creature that looked like Malone took three hits and kept coming.  How it’s even able to stand… I have to make a break for it.”
 
<<Godfried 25.JUN.2072>>
“Hackman still hates me, even after I saved his ass from what used to be Malone.  Lured that thing into the empty shack and burned the place down.  Let’s hope that finishes it.”
 
<<Hackman 25.JUN.2072>>
“So Godfried claims he doesn’t know what happened to all the weapons.  I’ll bet.  It’s rather convenient that he’s toting around the only thing that can kill these creatures.  I convinced him to lend me a sidearm, now that I know bullets won’t stop them.  How ironic.”
 
<<Godfried 25.JUN.2072>>
“I’ve gathered up the other survivors and I think I’ve managed to devise a test.  It’s just like in that old movie.  We’ve all seen how it works.  Everyone gives a blood sample.  If a person is infected, their blood will leap twenty feet in the air when touched with this red hot wire.  Hackman has already volunteered, so we’ll see how it goes.”
 
<<Hackman 25.JUN.2072>>
“After I confirmed what I already know, we approached Becker with the needle and he started screaming and thrashing.  I put a quick end to that.  Then his buddy O’Hannigen freaked out and tried to throttle me.  We evacuated the lab and burned the bodies.  Still, it’s awfully suspicious that Godfried hasn’t run the test on himself.”
 
<<Godfried 25.JUN.2072>>
“It’s down to just the two of us now.  Nothing I say or do seems to convince Hackman.  I could say the same about him.  He hasn’t exactly been very cooperative.  To make matters worse, no one’s responded to that distress call I sent before midnight.”
 
<<Hackman 25.JUN.2072>>
“We’ve managed to figure something out.  Either one of us is infected, or neither of us, but not both.  Otherwise we’d be working together, as Godfried put it.  For once I actually agree with him.”
 
<<Godfried 25.JUN.2072>>
“We can’t let the infection escape this base.  There’s no way of knowing whether Hackman or I are carriers.  I’ve gathered up the remaining fuel and charges.  There’s only one thing left to do.”
 
<<Hackman 25.JUN.2072>>
“It’s come down to this.  We’ve said our prayers.  The kerosene smell is getting to me.  This’ll be our last smoke together.
Sandra.
Kids.
I’m sorry.”
 
* * *
 
<<Stephens 01.JUL.2072>>
“We’ve gathered all the intact audio logs in chronological order.  Hazmat teams have recovered the bodies.  Preliminary autopsy results show no signs of infection.  I repeat.  No signs of infection.  Whatever was plaguing these men; beats the hell out of me.  Perhaps something we have yet to fathom.”

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©2010 Conan Young

The author is an emerging writer of short stories, satiric poetry, and a YA novel series entitled “Lunar Realm.”  He attends Bergen Community College in NJ, where his short story “My Annoying Roommate” has been published in their Labyrinth magazine, winning the Best Fiction award for 2010.  His short story “The More Things Stay the Same” has been published in the Summer 2010 issue of Black Lantern.

PANDEMIC: By Conan Young

Saturday, July 31st, 2010

That first night, he woke to the sounds of snarls and helpless lowing from the livestock pens.  Blood and ragged scraps of offal were strewn everywhere.  The creatures had done such a thorough job.  At the time, his only concern was that it would take him years to recoup his losses.  How trivial such matters were now.
 
Jean could never fathom the lacerating effect tragedy had on people’s lives, until he’d experienced it firsthand.  To lose his livelihood and family in one swift stroke was something he’d expected to happen to someone else.  Little did he realize that he and everyone he cared about were all ’someone else’ to other people.
 
The thought of vengeance spurred him on.  Jean hadn’t lost everything yet.  No, he still had something to fight for.  The villagers were all depending on him.  He couldn’t turn back, not after what he’d already sacrificed.  His wife Adrienne and his daughter Daphne—the visages that peered back at him from memory were savage and bestial, like all the others the creatures had bitten.  Anything human that remained was gone by the time Jean, through a torrent of tears, released them from their misery with silver bullets between the eyes.
 
Vast bonfires still raged, rendering shadowy stripes across the forest floor.  A damp breeze carried the nauseating smell of burning flesh to his nostrils.  Jean knew it was a necessity.  They had to burn the corpses to keep the infection from spreading.
 
“I’ve found tracks!” his companion Boniface called out.
 
“Good, that creature has nowhere to hide.”  Nervous fingers released the snap to Jean’s holster.  “Take out the Alpha and the pack soon follows.”
 
Boniface nodded.  His determined expression said it all.  He would sacrifice himself to save his friends, if it came to that.  His only living relative, his ailing grandfather, was among the first victims of infection.  The transformation was so sudden, not even Jean could stop the frenzied beast from breaking into his home.
 
However, Jean couldn’t blame Boniface for what happened.  He had to stay focused.  Tonight they would eradicate the threat or die trying.
 
The trail led to a tunnel that breathed out a midnight mist.  No human hands had excavated this structure.  Brittle animal bones that littered the entrance crunched underfoot as Jean thrust his lantern ahead.
 
In the deepest recesses of the burrow they found its sole inhabitant.  Nothing, not even the hulking mass of muscle, fur, and fangs would intimidate Jean now.  He stared down the yellow orbs that bored into him for daring to trespass.
 
The creature was fast.  Jean was faster.
 
Five revolver shots and a shotgun blast from Boniface were all it took.  Jean stood triumphant over the beast and aimed his last chambered round between its eyes.  Blood trickled from its lips, which moved over chattering teeth.  It drew strained breath into lungs like perforated bellows.
 
Was it trying to form human speech?
 
“Sealed…” it growled, “fate.”
 
The audacity of this monster blinded Jean to coherent thought.  He jammed his gun barrel into its forehead and pulled the trigger.
 
“We have to burn the den.  Leave no trace behind.”  Jean gave the creature one last look before tossing his lantern.  Fuel splashed and hungry flames enshrouded its body.  The plume of smoke that rose from the burrow entrance was the final exclamation mark on the darkest chapter of Jean’s life.
 
Praise.  Adulation.  Hero that saved the village.
 
No, this isn’t right.  None of this is right.
 
There was no chance to atone for regrets that raged with fevered delirium.  Without the immunity the creatures possessed, the remaining villagers were defenseless when the bubonic plague swept across the countryside.  Children and the elderly were the hardest hit.  One third of the population had already perished.
 
Jean lifted his revolver from its holster with his last ounce of strength.  He unloaded the silver rounds and flung them away.

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©2010 Conan Young