Devoured World: Volume One Read online

  “This is what we have to live with now,” she said, sadly. “Miles below my feet, water gets diverted from a tapped aquifer into magma coils. The huge energy produced by the turbines enables the processing of two of our most valuable commodities from our mines; Catyminum and Jajovium. We discovered them during the earliest days of our supposed golden age before the full nature of the impending apocalypse revealed itself. They now form an integral part of our defences, keeping the last traces of humanity from ultimate destruction. Tiny quantities of the former, when broken down, can be vaporised in weapons to produce plasma discharge. The turrets of our perimeter defences use it to great effect. The latter gave us a metal both lighter than aluminium, and stronger than titanium. Our explorations moved deeper and deeper in an effort to discover even rarer elements and the qualities which could be utilised in this never-ending war. Whether it’ll be enough when they finally arrive? Only time will tell, I’m afraid.”

  Leaning even further forward, Empress Verena stared down from the screen with gratitude.

  “You are the bulwark against Armageddon. Your bravery and sacrifice ensure our survival against the creatures of the darkened wastelands beyond our walls. We owe you a debt that can never be repaid. Thank you.”

  The huge face was replaced by the logo of the Divinity Alliance and General Ashdown marched back to the podium. Once again holding a hand up to end the barked questions, the room fell silent.

  “I know you all have questions, so I’ll take a few now and then meet with you all when you’ve been assigned a squad.”

  Looking around the room, she pointed to a woman.

  “Is this really 2182?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “But where’ve we been?” she called out. “You can’t expect us to believe we’ve been asleep for all those years. What’s happened to our families?”

  “No, you haven’t been asleep. As for your families, that’s a question I’ll answer in due course, but not right now.”

  Pointing out an Asian looking man, he nodded and stood up.

  “Are we infected?”

  “No, you’re completely healthy. In fact, you’ve been provided with attributes far in excess of normal people.”

  Perplexed by the second part of the answer, he was still satisfied that the infection was not an issue and sat down. Andy raised his hand and the General’s blue eyes settled on him. Indicating he should proceed, he asked, “What did Empress Verena mean by assigned a squad?”

  “I’m glad you asked. On your seat you’ll find a coloured access card. Once you leave this hall you’ll follow the designated colour coded walkway to your assigned bunkhouse. From there you’ll be debriefed further and then your training will begin in earnest. I’m sure by now some of you will have realised you’re all ex-military with impeccable records and unflinching honour. It’s for this reason you were selected for the program.”

  Andy watched as several faces contorted, the flashbacks bursting into their minds.

  “I’ll answer more questions later. For now, dismissed!”

  Picking up the green card, he looked for Eric and Tom who beckoned him over.

  “Follow us, we know the way,” offered Eric.

  “Did you know I was in the military? I can’t remember it…”

  “We knew. It’s what makes us so proud to be doing this job,” Tom replied.

  Rubbing a hand over his face, Andy paused before the door and leaned against the wall. The nurses immediately rushed to his aid until he pushed them away.

  “Sorry, guys. I’m not ill, just mindfucked. I keep thinking I’ve been here before, but how’s that possible? I think a good meal and rest will work wonders.”

  “The one thing I can guarantee is a hearty meal. Once you’ve eaten we’re able to fill a few more of the blanks in for you.”

  “I’d like that,” Andy sighed. “At the moment this all feels like a nightmare.”

  “It is,” replied Eric.

  “One that you can’t wake from, unfortunately.”

  “Well that’s great! Any chance you can put me back on ice?”

  “I’m afraid not,” commiserated Tom, leading him out into the corridor with the rest of the spawnlings.

  Chapter 3

  Seating himself at the long dining table, Andy looked around at his fellow green card carrying spawnlings. Blue, red, and black were heavily represented in their own areas. Andy guessed the total number to be in the region of about four hundred souls. Considering the dire news delivered only minutes ago, he expected to see despondency, even fear. The faces that stared back at him bore none of those traits, only a grim determination. One of each pair of the medical team queued at the mess hall serving counter, while the other hovered like a concerned parent to their rear. Tom was a veteran of the food hall and had quickly positioned himself at the front of the long procession.

  “I’m Gillian Dowling, but my friends call me Zip.”

  “Andy Burton,” he replied, reaching out to shake her hand. “I’m not even sure if I’ve got a cool sounding nickname. Do you mind if I ask how you got yours?”

  “It’s one of the only things I can remember at the moment if you can believe that. Whenever we would go out on patrol I’d raise then lower each zip on my uniform three times for luck.”

  “Sounds a bit like OCD.”

  “It might be, who knows. All I remember is it seemed to work, and the rest of my squad would get all antsy if I pretended to forget.”

  “I’m Tengfei Bojing, but you can all call me Teng,” offered another man of Asian descent.

  “It rolls off the tongue a little easier,” teased Zip while they all nodded in greeting.

  “How about the rest of you?” Andy posed to the other diners at their table.

  “Mohammed Mokrani, also known as Mo.”

  “Good to meet you, Mo,” Andy replied to the fierce looking Arabian.

  “Suzanne Cambridge-Green,” said a young woman to Andy’s right.

  “Nice to meet you, Suzanne,” Zip grinned.

  “I keep remembering people called me… Loco,” she replied, cocking her head and frowning as if trying to hear something echoing in the recesses of her mind. “Maybe I was into trains before joining the military?”

  “Could be,” agreed Andy.

  “Zip ‘n Loco!” Gillian grinned. “That’s a winning combination if ever I’ve heard one.”

  “I like that!” Loco beamed.

  “I’m Rocco Fletcher,” said a stocky bald man from the head of the table.

  Zip clicked her fingers. “Let me guess, your nickname’s Rock?”

  “Nope, Bob.”

  “Huh? Why Bob?”

  “Fuck knows, but it’s definitely Bob.”

  “Ok, Bob it is. What about you, friend?” Zip asked the final person on their table.

  The man seemed oblivious to the goings on around him. His dark brown eyes stared vacantly ahead, seeing nothing.

  “Is he ok?” Andy asked the man’s nurse.

  “He was fine when we brought him in,” he replied, rushing forward. “Paul, can you hear me? Paul!”

  Seeing the commotion, the second medic left the queue and came running over.

  “What’s going on?”

  “He’s gone into catatonic shock. Get a chair!”

  Wasting no time, he raced out of the room.

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” begged Loco.

  “No, but I appreciate the offer. We need to get him to intensive care immediately.”

  Doors crashing open, rubber tyres squealed on the tiles as the nurse navigated the rows of startled people. Hoisting him aloft without ceremony, they placed Paul down and secured the harness across his chest. Shouting at people to get out of the way, they charged through the hall and were gone from sight.

  “What the hell was that?” Andy demanded, turning to Eric.

  “It happens sometimes. When we pull you out everything can seem fine, but then it’s like the brain just short ci
rcuits.”

  “Will he be ok?”

  “There’s a slim chance he’ll recover.”

  “How slim?”

  “Very slim. Less than one percent.”

  “Fuck!”

  Loco pressed anxiously at her scalp. “Will it happen to us?”

  “It’s unlikely. His is the first case I’ve seen in months. The geneticists have made massive strides in eradicating the problems that used to occur.”

  “I think we need some answers, don’t you?” stated Andy in a tone that brooked no argument.

  Eric looked at his fellow nurses for permission to divulge the truth and they consented. Seating himself in the now empty space, he looked at the expectant soldiers. “I’d have preferred to wait until after you’ve eaten, but I can see how worried you are. This may be hard to take in, but you’ve all been… grown. That’s why we name you spawnlings.”

  “Grown? What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means exactly what I said. The tubes that we pulled you from are birthing pods, highly advanced cloning technology developed in the years following the mutant outbreak.”

  Bob grabbed Eric’s forearm and pulled him close. “Did you say cloning? As in, we’re clones?”

  “Yes, each and every one of you are exact genetic copies of your original self,” he replied, prising the painful grip away. “Well, almost exact.”

  “This has to be some kind of nightmare,” groaned Mo.

  “It’s not, I can assure you. Let me explain. When it was discovered what the aliens had sent us, every person on the planet had their DNA taken before being treated. For what reason I can’t say, but it was one of the decisions that’s allowed us to survive this apocalypse. After the devastation of the nuclear war, we fell into despair for a long while. It was only thanks to the vision of Empress Verena, Doctor Callaghan, and the Genesis Initiative that we found a solution. Rapid advances in somatic cell nuclear transfer were achieved following the genetic resequencing technology we’d been given. Instead of using a surrogate womb and waiting nine months for a baby, then a further twenty years for maturity, we use the incubation pods. With subatomic cell acceleration, we can have a fully-grown adult in only four months.”

  “You’re shitting me,” Andy blurted.

  “Not at all, my job is to help you adjust to the situation you face yourselves in. I’ll tell you no lies, I promise.”

  “How many times have we been cloned?” Bob asked, cautiously. He seemed to be accepting the unbelievable story faster than most.

  “Some of you, once or twice, some of you, dozens of times.”

  “You’re saying there are more than one of us out there?”

  “No…” Eric said, then paused.

  “What is it? What aren’t you telling us?” Teng pressed.

  “You’re only cloned when you fall in battle.”

  Loco gaped at him incredulously. “So, you’re telling us that we’ve died before?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “This is blasphemy,” muttered Mo.

  “It may seem like that, but the alternative is the end of mankind.”

  “Wait a minute,” Andy said. “If we’re clones of our dead selves, how come I recognise some of the people in this room? I can’t possibly have known them all before.”

  “With each new version of yourself, a small sample of your improved DNA is spliced into the original strain. For what it’s worth, it means you get stronger and stronger.”

  “When is the sample taken?”

  “Before you’re removed from the tube.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense. How can I have memories of people that I haven’t technically even met before. I’d only be aware of them after being woken up.”

  “The greatest minds of the Genesis Initiative have been looking into this anomaly for decades.”

  “And?”

  “They don’t know.”

  “They don’t sound that great then,” scoffed Zip.

  “My own opinion, and it’s worth exactly nothing, is that it may be a fragment of your spirit, or consciousness, something like that.”

  Mo’s brow furrowed contemplatively. “Considering that we know no more about the soul than we did a thousand years ago, it’s as good an explanation as any.”

  “Dinner is served,” remarked Tom, breaking into the conversation.

  Placing a bowl of green paste in front of Andy, he chuckled at the grimace of disgust.

  “Your stomachs have never eaten food before. This is a balanced nutritional supplement with all the needed proteins, vitamins, fats, and amino acids you’ll need.”

  “It looks like baby food.”

  Zip groaned as her own portion reached the table. “It looks like baby sick.”

  “I want a steak, rare,” sighed Bob, pushing the awful concoction around the bowl.

  “Meat no longer exists as a food source.”

  “You better be putting me on!” Bob spluttered.

  “I wish I was. It wasn’t just human flesh the infected craved. Most of the animal species on the planet have been wiped out… or changed.”

  “Fuck! I can remember the taste of the juices.”

  Andy was close to spooning a dollop into his reluctant mouth. Mind reeling, he paused the utensil at his lips. “Did you say the infection was transferred to animals?”

  “Yes. The human infected are far from the worst threat we face out there in the ruins of civilisation.”

  “Holy shit,” he groaned.

  Placing the unappetising cuisine into his mouth, Andy couldn’t taste a thing. Whether it was the repeated hammer blows of the revelations or the normal flavour of the food, he couldn’t tell. As the others withdrew into their own thoughts, he tried to conjure the image of his late family. Chaotic images of Christmas and death fought for supremacy until he finally gave up.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞

  Energised by the tasteless fare, the soldiers followed their handlers out from the mess into a drab, grey courtyard.

  “It’s time to meet the team who’ll get you combat ready,” Eric explained, pointing out the row of waiting officers.

  “Squad, fall in!”

  Instinct took hold and they ran across the concrete, forming two rows before spacing themselves with an extended arm. The memories of basic training burned brightly in the psyche and all felt the rush which separated them from the civilian world. Honour, loyalty, integrity, selflessness, bravery; all were as much a part of their being as the blood which surged through their veins.

  Offering a crisp salute, the senior officer looked on them with pride. Five feet ten, stocky and powerful, with closely buzzed hair and scars marring his face from previous battles, he was an impressive figure. “At ease! Good afternoon, everyone. My name’s Master Sergeant Tony Hardie and my team and I are here to begin the task of ascertaining your individual capabilities. After you’ve been shown to your bunkhouse, you’ll be put through some basic physical examinations; eyesight, hearing, reactions, the works. Tomorrow, your fitness and strength level will be determined. This initial analysis will be the first step in determining your role in the Sovereign Guard. Do you have any questions before you’re dismissed?”

  Zip raised her hand.

  “Go ahead, soldier.”

  “Yes, Sergeant. We keep hearing about the different roles and squads, can you explain what that means?”

  “Certainly,” he replied, beginning to pace the line. “As I’m sure you’ll appreciate, the traditional combat roles have gone out the window. In the mutant war, you’ll fall into a class of specialist operators. V-Class, or Vanquishers, are the bedrock of our forces. They’re well versed in light weaponry and are the shock troops of our army. Capable of quick strikes into the wastelands, they’re a vital pacification tool. D-Class, or Devastators, are our heavy weapon and close quarter combat specialists. You’ll see them manning the walls of our cities and outposts, repelling the waves of mutants with guns, plasma launchers, or Jajovium swords if
the need arises. Backing them up are the M and T-Class operatives. The M in this case stands for Mechs, the massive armoured sentries that can hold the line when everything else falls. They can also be transported via Magjet, Dreadhulk to reinforce a cut off squad. I can promise you when those things fall from the sky, you’ll give thanks to whatever God sits watching us. These air assets are piloted by the T-Class operatives, or Tempest, so named after our capital city. Generally, they’ll be selected from their previous air force experience. Master Sergeant Steven Smith will now explain the covert operations divisions.”

  Stepping forward, the tall, dangerous looking trainer eyed them all. “Those of you that’re unfortunate enough to end up with me will be fighting in the shadows. If Master Sergeant Hardie’s troops are the hammer, we’re the nail. You’ll either join the S-Class, our Shadow operatives, or the A-Class, the Annihilators. Annihilators have enhanced night vision, which brings us back to the tests you’ll be undertaking. You don’t fight face to face, but with hit and run tactics, futuristic guerrilla warfare, if you will. The mutants will only know you’ve attacked when they find the tattered bodies of their ungodly brethren. Shadow operators have similar optical gifts. Their role is to scout the wastelands and identify targets for our soldiers, divinity missile batteries, or seismic cleanses. I’m sure you’ll all understand the hazards of this posting, so you won’t be ill thought of if you decline.”

  “Thank you, Master Sergeant. Does anyone else have a question?”

  Nobody raised a hand.

  “Very well. I’m sure you all have a great deal to process, so you’ve got a few hours of R and R to acclimatize and get acquainted with the rest of Green Company. You’ll be woken at 0530 for the start of your physical testing. Dismissed!”

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞

  Eric and Tom followed closely behind Andy as he entered the bunkhouse. Nameplates were secured to the wall above each bed. A locker and chest stood open, revealing combat and training uniforms and recreational clothes.

  “You know the drill,” said Eric as they found his personal bunk. “Keep everything spotless and you won’t get beasted.”