Page 2 of Doom

“Promise. We’ll talk to you soon, all right?”

“All right. Bye, Dad. Love you.”

I stared at my phone and then pressed it to my chest as if it were my parents. Heaving a sigh, I shoved it back into my pocket and reached half-heartedly for my plate. Andy had given me a mountain of chicken Alfredo pasta, a side salad, and a thick, half-roll of cheesy garlic bread. I twisted some of the fettucine onto my fork and shoved a huge mouthful past my lips. It tasted good: the ‘I’m-gonna-sit-on-your-ass-and-hips-forever’ kind of good. But at twenty-eight—a few weeks shy of twenty-nine—and as a bit of a fitness freak, I could handle it. Still, I chewed with little enthusiasm, tuning out the TV news anchors repeating the same depressing reports that had been playing in a loop for the past forty-eight hours.

Halfway through my meal, a high-pitched sound resonated from the TV, causing me to gasp and nearly choke on some chicken. The screen went dark, only displaying a weird, Cyrillic-looking symbol. Coughing, I kept my eyes glued to the screen, the image blurry through the tears.

My colleagues in the break room approached the TV, all conversations having stopped. A bright light flashed from the screen, forcing me to close my eyes. I reopened them to dark blotches dancing before me while I recovered from the photo-bleaching. When my vision cleared, I wished it would blur again.

“God have mercy …” whispered a voice that sounded like Laeticia’s, one of the nurses.

A nightmare straight out of a David Cronenberg movie filled the screen. The insect-like humanoid, a being I took to be male owing to the broadness of his shoulders and hardness of his facial features, stared directly into the camera. The upper part of his head, shaped like a helmet, reminded me of a rhinoceros beetle, with horn-like spikes around the forehead. His oversized, multifaceted eyes resembled the insect version of the little grey men that filled our alien lore. Large mandibles protruded on each side of his otherwise oddly human mouth. Thick, black, chitin plates covered his muscular body, which was inhumanly narrow at the waist. His hands, also armored, possessed five fingers with vicious claws. To complete the frightening image, his legs consisted of three segments, which I assumed gave him the ability to jump quite high.

His mandibles snapped a few times. Although his multifaceted eyes made it impossible to guess what he was feeling, I viscerally sensed malice and evil intent from him. His lips parted in the creepiest of grins, displaying needle-sharp teeth that had my stomach sinking to my feet. I was too shocked, too petrified to run, scream, or otherwise react. I gaped in morbid fascination at the first sentient being from the stars to have made himself known to us.

“Hello, humans,” the alien said in a grating voice filled with clicking sounds. “I am General Khutu, leader of the Kryptid military forces. We have come a long way to see you. Prepare to bow to your new masters.”

Seconds later, the city’s emergency sirens resounded, and screams filled the hallways as people undoubtedly stampeded towards the exits. I stared numbly at the screen. The General’s lips continued to move, but I no longer heard him. A single thought played in a loop in my head.

I should have gone home.

Chapter 1

Victoria

More empty shelves greeted us as we entered the supermarket. The moldy scent of rot from the rare produce that hadn’t found any takers had increased since our last visit. The crunching sound of spilled cereals and other debris beneath our feet was deafening in the otherwise eerie silence. Scavenging for food and drinks with the sun at its zenith spoke of desperation, if not outright recklessness. We weren’t at that stage yet, but unless something changed, in a matter of days, rationing would no longer suffice.

Two weeks after the Kryptids’ arrival, our quaint, little city of Juniper resembled a ghost town. It had never suffered from major traffic issues, or overpopulation. But now that most of its people had fled to the mountains or scattered into the sprawling rural areas outside town, it felt desolate and creepy.

I followed Andy as he made a beeline for the back of the store where we’d been lucky in the past. For some reason, most people didn’t seem to think of the storage room used to restock merchandise. They’d turn around the minute they saw the empty shelves, half of them toppled over.

That suited us just fine.

Andy carefully opened the door. Soft voices and rummaging sounds alerted us to the presence of other people. Thankfully, they were human voices and not the grating clicking of the Kryptid speech. Still, one couldn’t be too careful. When it came to their survival, humans easily turned into rabid animals. With the growing scarcity of food and water, it was always a coin toss whether the fairer or uglier side of people would rear its head.

Gun in hand but held low, Andy led the way inside. Judging by the storage room’s depleted state, others had discovered it as well, or the same handful who knew of it had been diligently plundering it. The voices suddenly stopped. My pulse picked up, my chest feeling too compressed to breathe. The same tension knotting the muscles in my neck had Andy’s back stiffening.

“We’re not here to cause trouble.” Andy spoke loudly enough to be heard, using his least threatening voice. “We’re just here for some food and water for our makeshift clinic, then we’ll be on our way. If any of you are hurt or ill, we’ll be happy to offer assistance. We’re doctors.”

I couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but I distinctly heard the word ‘humans.’ Of course, we’d been quiet and remained under cover. They couldn’t know we weren’t Kryptids looking for prey.

“I’m with my wife and son,” a man shouted back. “You don’t cause trouble, we won’t either. We’ve got weapons that we’d rather save for those damn bugs.”

“Agreed,” Andy responded, putting away his weapon. “My female partner and I are coming in.”

Relieved beyond words, I put my own gun back in its holster and hurried to fetch a cart. The couple in their mid-forties and their teenage son didn’t seem in too bad a shape. Their clothes, of good quality, could have used a wash. Their eyes reflected the same wariness we felt. We exchanged polite nods then got down to business.

We filled two carts with as much non-perishable food as we could: water, juice, candles, batteries, matches, and whatever medical supplies were still lying around. Previous scavengers had long absconded with the good stuff, but we could use all the peroxide, bandages, and painkillers we could find. When we were halfway through filling the second cart, the family waved goodbye as they started heading out.

The father paused, hesitated, then turned to look at us. “Just some friendly advice. You folks need to get out of town. We’re stocking up to hit the road. New spaceships arrived last night; a different race of yellow bugs. Last broadcast I heard, they’re moving towards us, fast.”

“One of the broadcasts said they were fighting the dark bugs,” Andy said with a hesitant voice.

“But why?” the father asked. “Are they here to help us, or are they just another dog fighting over the same bone?”

A fair question I would love to have answered. “We have too many patients, and not enough means of transportation,” I said, the same anxiety knotting my insides.

“Then take those with the best chance of survival and leave the rest,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not being cruel or heartless. I’m being realistic. We’re at war. There’s no time for pretty sentiments. If we survive this mess, those still alive will need doctors. Hell, our soldiers could probably use both of you right now while they’re trying to give us a future. Staying here to get yourselves killed for people who already have a foot in the grave makes no sense to me. My advice to you is to give them what supplies you can spare, take those able to travel without holding you back, and get the heck out. Good luck to you all.”

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