Finally, with ten floors left, Makara collapsed. The monsters were just one flight down. And unlike us, they didn’t get tired.
“Come on!” I yelled. “Up, let’s go!”
I remembered all the times Makara had forced me to go on. It was my turn to return the favor.
I grabbed her with my stinky hand and pulled her up. We ran the rest of the way. There were dozens of crawlers slithering their way upon their squat, bowed legs.
Finally, we made it to the tunnel that led to the runway door. The temperature up here was cold, and the monster fluids covering me from head to toe certainly didn’t help matters. We ran at a sprint. The door came into view.
Unlatching it, Samuel pushed it open. The rush of subzero wind would freeze all the liquids on my body within moments. Crying from the pain of it, I ran with the others across the runway, wondering first why we were even here, and second, how long it would take us to die, either from monsters or the cold. There was nothing waiting for us as the doctor had promised. There was only a sea of crawlers closing in from every direction. There was no airplane, helicopter, nothing that I expected. Whatever was supposed to be here was not.
Monsters flooded the runway from all sides, including the door we had just left.
There were hundreds — maybe thousands. Even worse, even the skies were clouded with swarms of infected birds.
We weren’t going to get out of this one alive.
Chapter 23
That was when a blinding light flew over the top of Cheyenne Mountain. And I mean, flying. The engine roared, drowning out even the noise of the monsters. Even they paused a bit at the approach of the giant, flying machine. The machine flew closer, along the side of the mountain from where it had been hidden, floodlights illuminating our shivering bodies on the runway.
Is that…a spaceship?
I had little time to be surprised. The monsters regained their focus and closed in as the ship descended and hovered above us. Anna sliced a couple crawlers open as they neared, and the rest of us fired into the braver ones edging closer. A porthole opened on the ship; a synthetic rope ladder descended.
“Go!” Samuel said to me.
I hopped on, scrambling upward to make room for the others. Anna came after me, then Makara. Finally, even with only one good arm, Samuel hopped up, forcing his legs up the ladder.
The ladder was unwieldy, swaying back and forth in the bitterly cold wind. My vision darkened.
Anna pushed me up from behind.
“Go, Alex!”
I forced myself up the ladder. I didn’t have any strength left. The cold was sapping it out of me.
It was all I could do to hold on as the ship lifted up from the ground. The monsters below closed around where we had been standing, howling at seeing their prey escape.
The birds, however, could not be so easily avoided.
The ladder began retracting into the ship, carrying all of us with it.
Just hold on…
We neared the porthole. Finally I entered it and was inside the ship. I fell onto the cold deck. I was freezing cold. The others pulled themselves through and piled next to me. Samuel entered last, and then the porthole slammed shut.
In the pitch black, the engines of the spaceship roared. We were moving upward.
I lay on the deck, shivering and cold. The ship hummed beneath me. I heard the rush of wind outside.
There was a heaviness all over that I couldn’t explain. I realized that it was Samuel’s jacket.
“We made it?” I asked, shivering.
“Yes,” Samuel said.
“I guess we’ll meet him soon,” Anna said.
As we sat there in the dark compartment we had entered, no one said anything. We only shivered and huddled together for warmth. The gunk on my clothes and skin had frozen from being outside for a mere two minutes.
A nearby door hissed open. We all turned toward the light. But no one appeared.
Then the man’s voice came from the intercom.
“Come on,” he said. “Step inside. It’s warmer in there than the cargo bay. Welcome aboard the Gilgamesh.”
The intercom clicked off.
“Is this really a spaceship?” I asked.
“Looks like it,” Samuel said.
“Did you read anything about that in your Black Files?”
“Nope.”
Warm air gushed out of the door. That was enough incentive for me to stand on unsteady legs and make my way forward. The others followed me. I stepped into the light, and the door hissed shut behind.
The surfaces were all gray. The corridor we were in led straight forward. From somewhere to our left came a low hum — the engine, probably. The bridge would probably be to our right.
We walked forward, unsure of our surroundings. The corridor was narrow. We passed an open door that led to a couple of bunks. We passed a circular table against the wall, went through a small kitchen. We entered a narrow corridor. Ahead were controls, LCD screens, and a pilot’s seat. Above the rim of the seat was a head of wild, white hair.
We entered the bridge. The man remained seated. We stood there, shivering and cold.
None of us said anything. Ahead of the ship, it was dark. I couldn’t see the land or mountain below.
The man swiveled in his chair, revealing his wrinkled face, sharp blue eyes covered by glasses, and thin lips. Long white hair descended to his shoulders. He wore khaki pants, a long-sleeved green shirt, and a thick brown vest.
“My God, you could have at least cleaned up a little before coming in here.”
No one said anything. We were cold, exhausted, and had nearly died a dozen times in the past hour. We weren’t exactly in the mood for humor.
“As you might have guessed, I am Dr. Cornelius Ashton. You can call me Ashton; not quite as bad as Cornelius. And this is the Gilgamesh — one of several advanced spaceships built by the U.S. government during the Dark Decade. S-Class. It runs on a prototype miniature fusion reactor. It has a titanium and carbon nanotube hull — light as a feather, stronger by many factors than steel. It can carry up to twelve crewmen, and as far as I know, it is one of four spaceships operational in the world — or out of this world, if you prefer it.”
“And where are we going, in this spaceship?” Samuel asked.
“You must be Samuel,” Ashton said. “You look just like your father.” The man turned to Makara. “And you must be little Makara. Not so little, anymore. You were probably too young to remember me. And you two, I don’t know.”
“That would Alex, and Anna,” Makara put in quickly. “And Lisa…Lisa is gone.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ashton said. “We don’t have much time, in any sense. I can explain it all later. Right now, we need to get home.”
“Home?” Samuel asked. “What do you mean, home?”
“You don’t know about it yet,” Ashton said, “but you will. This place was known to only a few on the surface. I was one of the few, among the President and others — before they all died.”
What place was this man talking about?
He pressed a button on the dash. “Gilgamesh…take us to Skyhome.”
A deep, computerized male voice responded. “Destination: Skyhome.”
The ship shifted below us, aiming upward.
“Strap yourselves in,” Ashton said. “We’ll be there in mere minutes.”
“Skyhome,” I said. “Is that a space station?”
“Yes. The Skyhome Program was the other side of the coin from the Bunkers. The government planned to build more — but funds ran out, so Skyhome was the only one to be completed.”
By this point, we had strapped ourselves in. The ship paused. The floor vibrated beneath me, intensifying. Finally, we were pointed at a 45-degree angle upward.