Dead of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 1)

A figure emerged through my blinks. He stood at my feet, staring back through onyx eyes, cloaked in a sable cape. He pushed back the hood. Black curls curtained his Middle Eastern features.

“I am the Drone”, he offered with an Arabic accent, emphasizing the D.

I tugged at the chains. “What do you want?”

He leapt upon the alter and straddled my waist. “I think you know.” He smirked. Then a spear erupted from his mouth and pierced my chest.

Smoldering pain. I pawed at him, my hands not working right. Screams echoed. My screams. The ceiling erupted in a mud slide of blood. The gore rushed from unseen pores in the walls.

I bucked my hips against the pang of the Drone’s sucking mouthparts. I couldn’t escape the stabbing spasm in my chest.

“Fuck you.” My voice was strangled.

His slurping continued, each pull with the throb of my heart. An obscure shape swelled behind his shoulders. He crooked up the corner of his mouth around the bloody spear and extended immense transparent wings.

I screamed until the burning in my throat overbore the wound in my chest. The light danced away as if in fear. When the darkness curled under my chin, it was warm and wet and very much alive.

Deep into that darkness peering,

long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting,

dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

Edgar Allan Poe

Slimy slaps doused my neck. Something slithered over my cheek. Warm puffs filled my ear. I opened my eyes and sucked in air to keep my scream from escaping.

Spittle showered my nose. Darwin’s dripping tongue hovered inches away. He licked his chops and recommenced slobbering my face. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his fur. “Was I screaming, boy? Did I scare you?”

He leaned into my hug and rolled to his side with a rumbling moan and a playful snap of jaws.

Daylight leaked in around the edges of the window blinds. My senses back online, I bent my arms and legs to test flexibility. The fatigue and stress in my muscles were faint compared to the prior night. I rubbed my chest. No rents in my skin despite the ache.

The Drone.

Wish I could’ve told Joel about the dream. He would’ve wrapped me in the strength of his arms and nuzzled my cheek while murmuring reassurances. Then he would’ve set me on my feet and told me in his stern voice to pull my shit together.

As I sat there, feeling forsaken, panicked even, some intangible timeline forced itself upon me. It was a tug, clawing inside my chest. I ground myself in the urgency of it, threw on my jeans, black tee, armored vest and cap and removed the desk barricade.

As far as I could see, the base spread out in a barren reminder that even our military couldn’t fight this thing. Bodies scattered the ground, tattered by wind and cankered by the heat. I stared at them for long moments, waiting for them to rise.

On the way to the truck, I carried that expectancy with me. But there was no buzzing. No movement. No blood in the air. Only the hot scent of asphalt and the dormant lawn crunching under my feet.

Darwin froze halfway to the truck, his muzzle pointing at three vultures pecking at a thick clutter of decomposed bodies. In a flap of wings, the birds took air, chased away by a scraggly dog. As if my nose had just caught up with my sight, I gagged. The stench overpowered my other senses and caused my steps to falter. Darwin seemed to be affected by it too if his whimpers were anything to go by.

“Darwin.” I motioned to the truck, and like always, he obeyed.

It took several circles around the base before I spotted the armory. A single-story brick building squatted off the outer road. The lot provided a breeding ground for daylilies. Bursts of orange overran the landscape as evidence of runners sprouted new growth in every direction. The armory’s thick steel door and only entry appeared closed and unscathed. It was either once heavily guarded or impossible to plunder.

I drove the truck over the lawn and parked a few feet from the door. Carbine in high ready, I crept to the entrance while Darwin fertilized the lilies. Would it be locked? I reached for the handle.

It cracked open. My hand jerked back. If there were men watching on the cameras, they’d see me going in. The truck felt like a magnet behind me. Ten paces would put me back in that cab.

Minutes passed. The cameras wouldn’t be working without electricity, and I blamed the breeze for moving the door. I thought about the ammo I needed and could possibly acquire. I steadied my breathing and summoned my grit. Then I stepped through the door.

The training Joel drilled into me took over. I blurred out of the doorway’s halo and swept right, back to the wall. Musk and alcohol lingered in the small foyer. I pressed into the shadows. That was when I realized my folly. Electric lights illuminated the corner. Fuck. A generator powered the building? That meant human occupancy.