Evolution

By Anthony Haywood

The endless line of creatures emerge from the Stygian depths below; pestilence and death stream from the pit. A war has begun.

The human race will not surrender, but the unstoppable leviathan mass is spreading. The biggest threat to mankind and the world has ruptured the confines of New Mexico and is pushing across the United States

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony Haywood
• Release date: Apr 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781087879154

Book preview

Prologue

The Silence was almost overpowering. Countless eyes gazed upon the silhouetted shape of The Jesunti, far above them on the rock mesa. The anticipation was almost palpable. The wait was interminable, yet no feet shuffled, no throats were cleared and nothing moved.

The Jesunti raised his arms over his head, seeming to reach toward the roof of the vast cavern, his face turned upward as if in divine supplication. The subterranean darkness began to diminish as a faint light emitted from his fingertips and the onlookers gasped in soft gravelly snarls.

The light grew steadily until the cavern roof, hundreds of metres above, became visible and strangely illuminated the watching crowd. Eyeless, featureless faces turned their hairless heads upward, toward The Jesunti. The Stygian blackness pushed back further and innumerable creatures now stirred with the anticipation of freedom. The abominations began to push forward to climb the rough cavern wall behind The Jesunti, where thousands of their kin already clung on. Higher and higher they went, until the entire cavern roof and walls were crawling with their hideous forms.

All faces now turned again to The Jesunti, as the growing light from his fingertips was now accompanied by a low 7

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thrumming sound. The sound added to the sense of expectancy and the creatures pushed forward even further until the beasts already on the wall were forced to pack together tighter and tighter.

The thrumming sound increased in volume and, suddenly, all movement ceased, the growls and snarls faded.

All was silent and still once more. The light continued to shine and The Jesunti cast the only humanoid eyes in the cavern toward an immense hole in the roof. The blackness inside the hole stretched away further than the light could penetrate.

Slowly, all heads in the cave turned to look into the deep blackness within the hole.

A bright flash of light emitted from it, followed by a faint booming sound. As one, the creatures began to tumble upward. Toward the light, toward the surface and toward mankind.

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Book One

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Chapter One: Damnation

Jornada del Muerto Desert, New Mexico. 1 March 2027

aster Sergeant Alden Wear twisted the thick plastic twine through his fingers for the M millionth time. He was bored. Three hours had passed since he had been woken and ordered to come to the detonation observation area for the pre-test check procedure. He was supposed to have met Colonel Mews here two hours ago, and still there was no sign of him.

He should have been used to the waiting but now it just irritated him. Six months ago, no one would have kept him waiting, not even the top brass. Then, he was someone to be respected and revered, maybe even feared. But now things were different. Ever since the Cromwell incident in New York, all his colleagues, of both higher and lower ranks, looked at him differently. Some even made snide comments behind his back, yet still loud enough to be overheard. He felt he commanded little respect these days.

At six feet four and weighing over two hundred and thirty muscular pounds, he had quite a presence. As a rookie, he had excelled in physical training and combat techniques, quickly gaining a formidable reputation. He had become 11

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proficient in training other rookies in the art of physical combat, eventually moving to Langley to train the elite SEAL

teams, his reputation growing steadily year-on-year.

Then, sometime late last year he had become wildly drunk at a blowout with the other non-com officers. Ending up in a violent fight, Wear had broken both legs and three ribs of a young rookie who had been itching for a fight. It later turned out that he was the son of a high-ranking intelligence officer, a General Cromwell. Although Wear was cleared of any blame for the fight, as it was judged that he was provoked, Cromwell pulled some strings and got him transferred. Here.

To the desert, a secret nuclear testing facility, with no civilization of any sort for around a thousand miles. His job was to oversee underground nuclear testing whenever the science boffins developed some new and terrifying warhead, and oversee the guarding of the compound for the remainder of his time. What it really entailed was reading girly mags and playing poker with the other eighty loser conscripts under his command for twelve months. He had been here for six months and he was tired of it. The heat was unbearable, the flies and mosquitoes intolerable, and the company was lousy.

To top it all, he was frequently awoken at any hour of the night to practice drills of either security breaches or detonating the various warheads that were brought to the site. For the last week his men had been on alert for the next test. As soon as the scientists were ready, they would detonate. Fourteen scientists worked at the complex, alongside their military colleagues. Some were stationed at 12

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the test site permanently, to oversee and maintain the equipment. Others arrived a week before a test was scheduled, and left two days after. In addition, other observers often arrived at the site, to observe tests or to examine results. Of these, some were military, some were from other government agencies, with the more ominous being those in suits with no ID and who never spoke.

Occasionally, there were people in the science group who would lower themselves to talk to the lowly cannon fodder on duty, providing Wear with the only interesting conversation he would have for the next few months.

When Wear was woken this morning, he was at first convinced it was another drill. That was until he saw, through the CCTV monitors situated in the detonation room, that the scientists were all bustling about on the surface. Prior to each blast they would place ground sensors around the complex to measure the shock waves and other unfathomable scientific measures. They were doing this now.

Wear abruptly stood to attention and saluted as Mews entered the room, performed a sloppy salute himself and sat down at the main detonation console with his back to Wear.

‘Arrogant bastard’, Wear mused, ‘Wouldn't it feel nice to reach out a hand and crush his larynx in one blow?’ Thinking like this was on the increase and he was sure that if he didn't get out of this place soon, he would do just that.

Mews spoke, not turning to look at Wear, Are we good to go?

Yes sir, Wear replied, running the crushed larynx death throes video in his head.

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Looking at the CCTV monitors again, Wear saw that the scientists were in the process of scuttling back to their bunker, leaving the ground near the test site two miles away deserted. Soon enough, they checked in with Wear and Mews, and notified them that they were ready.

Start the detonation procedure, Mews spoke briefly into a microphone positioned before him, informing the scientists that they were good to go. Buttons were pushed and orders given in the detonation room over the next few minutes and eventually Mews and Wear positioned themselves in front of the detonation panel, six feet apart, with keys in their hands.

Wear ran his eyes over the console, observing all of the green lights for the entire detonation system in a second,

We have green across the board, sir.

Okay. On my mark… Both men inserted their separate keys, …3…2…1…mark!

A small counter on the console lit up with a countdown starting at thirty seconds. Both Mews and Wear stared at the panel, watching for any red lights. A red light would mean a system had failed, and detonation would have to be aborted.

Detonation could only be aborted by the simultaneous turning of the keys, so both men kept their hands on the keys they had just activated.

The tension in the room was palpable as both men divided their time between looking at the clock and the console. All green.

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Two miles away, and a mile underground, the nuclear device was sitting in its cradle in a small cavern set up by the scientists. Half a mile below the device, a small fissure had opened up during the previous blast half a mile away. The fissure had widened since, with the constant clawing from below. Where there were previously growls and snarls, there was now silence. The tension underground resembled that in the detonation room.

A small LED on the device started to blink and a nearby beetle ran over to investigate. The blinking speeded up. The beetle watched. The device pinged quietly and then whiteness. The beetle vaporised.

The shock wave was tremendous. Many of the creatures below, waiting by the fissure, died in the blast and shock wave. But, for each one that died there were a million more waiting for their chance to reach the surface. The innumerable horde pushed upward, clearing their dead brethren aside, seeking the surface far above. They clawed onward, unperturbed and unaffected by the radioactive air through which they passed, as they cleared the now cracked and smoking detonation chamber. They surged through the tunnels linking the detonation chamber to the surface and flowed over the blast doors like a liquid.

Wear was always amazed at the lack of effect that the nuclear detonations seemed to have. A brief silence and then, a few seconds later, a small shock wave was felt and he would see a dust cloud kicked up by the vibrations on the monitors.

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One of the monitors closest to the blast zone winked out.

The next one showed a cloud of dust approaching and then just a blurry dusty world. The next one saw the same dust cloud, but was just out of its range. Wear watched as the ground shook under the camera and made the picture shake.

This continued for a few seconds before the dust started to settle and all appeared tranquil again.

Good work Sergeant. Mews stood and left the room.

Wear was astounded. Over the past six months they had been stationed here together, Mews had never said a good word to him, or even about him as far as he was aware. Wear wondered what had prompted him to do so now.

One of the scientists’ voices came over the radio, telling him that they had recorded everything they needed and would now carry out their tests. The disconnected voice also thanked him for their efficient work in the control room. The scientists’ bunker was slightly closer to the blast than the military installation. Wear had been there only once. It was a maze of cables and equipment, much of which looked more than fifty or sixty years old. Wear knew it was all state of the art, but always mused that the mad scientists had built it themselves. At the end of the radioed conversation, Wear started to ask when the scientists felt it was safe to emerge from the bunker, but he was interrupted by the sound of a loud commotion from the science bunker.

A single camera was mounted within their bunker and Wear leaned over to a switch on the console on his left. He pressed the button which cycled the camera that the overhead monitor displayed.

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He blinked.

Instead of seeing some or all of the fourteen scientists in the bunker, all that could be seen was a lot of interference and what seemed like a mass of writhing bodies. Sickly, he realized that the image he saw was of carnage and destruction; the scientists seemingly fighting for their lives against a foe he could barely discern. On the black and white monitor, the blood appeared like spraying oil. As he panned the camera around, Wear got a fleeting glance at the mayhem, and immediately wished he hadn’t tried. There was a frenzy of activity in the bunker. Tall, faceless figures loomed around the camera, blurring the image with their proximity. They moved this way and that, striking and destroying whatever they touched.

Then all activity ceased and, as one, the figures moved away, leaving the bloody and destroyed bunker simultaneously, as if ordered.

As the scene cleared, Wear saw a picture on the screen that even Dante could not have envisaged in his worst nightmare. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Some were whole, others were missing an arm or leg and others still were simply torn apart. Around the floor, limbs were scattered, torn off by the assailants. One of the bodies moved and twitched, blood spraying from the stumps where her feet had been seconds earlier. Wear recognised her as the woman from Ohio with whom he had spent many hours talking. She had, before the attack, struck him as an incredibly attractive woman, both to look at and talk to. Now she writhed on the floor, dismembered, half of her face removed. The remaining 17

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half looked both questioningly and accusingly at the camera before she died.

Wear was frozen. He knew he should act but he found that he couldn't move. This was an unfamiliar feeling, as he always considered himself to be a doer and not a ditherer.

Finally, he pressed the camera switch again, cycling through the images until the display showed the image from the camera on the military bunker roof. He knew that the camera was pointing at the science bunker and he was curious to see where the assailants had vanished to. On the screen, all he could make out was something resembling a stampede. From the area here, to the science bunker and test site, what looked like hundreds upon hundreds of running figures were heading directly for the military bunker. He frantically cycled between the exterior cameras. They all showed similar pictures. The screen went black. He pressed the button, again trying to cycle the camera, but they were all now off. The screen remained dark.

Unlike the scientific bunker, the military bunker was locked, the steel doors armored with toughened steel. An incessant banging on the doors and walls erupted and this prompted Wear into action. He pressed the panic button.

This was only pressed if the bunker was being attacked. It was aimed at preventing any type of invader from detonating the warheads. A klaxon sounded and a number of emergency lights came on. Within seconds, Wear could hear shouting way down the corridor at the soldiers’ bunkrooms.

Wear took out his cell phone and found the number for Command in his contacts. He dialled but there was no 18

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connection. The phone silent in his ear. He put his finger in his opposite ear, to quieten the sound of the siren but still he heard nothing from his phone.

Wear turned and strode out into the corridor, extracting the key for the armory from around his neck. Questioning men in the corridors wanted to know what was going on.

Wear barked orders at them, instructing them to round everyone up and go immediately to the armory.

Within minutes, all eighty men stood silently, in the large armory, staring at Wear. With each loud bang on the bunker’s doors and walls, there were choice phrases muttered by the soldiers, all wondering what was going on.

Listen up, Wear yelled, Arm yourselves. We’re under assault from… Wear hesitated. What were they being attacked by? On the screens they had looked like people, but something told him they weren't. They were certainly humanoid, but something… a large number of assailants

he finished lamely.

It’s not clear who they are, where they’ve come from or what they want. They just appeared after the blast and they’ve taken out the science bunker, There were a few gasps from the audience. All I can tell you is that they’re extremely dangerous and there’s a shitload of them.

Wear thought, talk about an understatement. So, we’re not fighting in the open, we’ll hole up here in the bunker and stand our ground. If they somehow get in, we’ll force them through narrow incursion points and contain the breach.

The men looked at one another, obviously frightened.

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We’re also cut off, Wear declared, a little worried about scaring them even further, so he added, Reinforcements will arrive as soon as they figure out what’s going on.

Scanning the jostling men, Wear didn’t see Mews anywhere. He wondered fleetingly where he was, as he walked along the line of armament lockers, unlocking them and throwing them open. The men surged forward, taking weapons from the racks and as much ammunition as they could carry. They filed out of the door in small groups, as they had been trained to do, heading out to cover the entrances to the complex. Some kissed crucifixes slung around their necks and others stared forward silently as they filed out. Most of them looked scared. Surprisingly, one man passed Wear grinning and muttered, Action at last, before heading out of the door. Wear wondered to himself if the soldier would regret those words and sentiment.

Over the next hour, they waited. And it was hell. The frenzied attack on the bunker went on and on. The main armored doors were starting to buckle; the thick metal hinges gradually began to shake their way out of the steel frame. Any doubts as to whether their assailants would be able to get into the building had vanished. Loaded weapons were raised toward the door, as forty men waited pensively, in silence, for the onslaught. The doors creaked and, just before they gave way, there was complete silence. The banging on the doors stopped; the shuffling feet ceased and everyone held their breath. Silence.

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The door fell in gracefully, in almost slow motion; folding in on itself as it dropped to the ground. The men saw their attackers for the first time. Half a dozen well-trained, veteran soldiers immediately turned and fled. Others merely stared, unable to comprehend what they were seeing through the settling dust. Others prayed silently, hoping in vain for salvation, some even praying for a speedy death.

The abominations stood well over seven feet tall; dark olive skin glistening with moisture. Humanoid in shape only, their arms hung low, leading to massive hands which were bony and tipped with inch long razor-like claws. Their shoulders were broad, supporting a bald head with a mass of sharp teeth where the nose should have been. They had no visible eyes or ears, only a mouth. The stench they brought with them immediately filled the bunker, making some of the men gag. No one noticed. More men turned and fled.

Hundreds of their attackers began to flood through the doorway. Behind them millions upon millions were building, as they emerged from the detonation chamber. Whilst many hundreds waited for their chance to go into the newly opened bunker, the remainder were slowly dispersing, heading in all directions.

Someone fired a shot and then all hell broke loose.

Gunfire rang out in the room as the remaining soldiers opened fire. The bodies of the creatures quickly piled up in the doorway before the first clicks of empty magazines began. More men fled as they realized they could never hope to defend themselves against such a huge and formidable enemy.

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As ever, Wear was at the front. He fought well, mowing down many with his automatic rifle and four of the creatures with his sidearm. He even got the better of one in unarmed combat, before a well-placed blow to the back of his head replaced the scene of horror in front of him with blackness.

Pain brought him around. He hurt all over and he found he was being crushed. Opening his eyes didn't help, as it was dark. He tried to move and couldn't. His arms and legs felt pinned to his sides from the sheer weight above him. He could hear shuffling footsteps in the room and tried to call out to attract their attention, managing a soft moan before the pain hit him. He lay still for a moment, unsure, before he felt a slight decrease in the crushing weight above him. He suddenly became aware that he was under a pile of bodies, both human and otherwise.

The thought should have sickened him but the lure of rescue was overpowering. The footsteps were closer and the weight was lifting steadily from his chest and limbs.

Eventually, he saw light through the mass of bodies.

Salvation felt good, despite the pain. As the last body was cleared from above him, he raised his arms to the silhouetted figure above to signal that he was still alive.

There was a loud popping sound and his face was sprayed with warm fluid. He realized he had been found and lowered his arms again. He grinned now, his mind broken as the creature chewed for a moment on Wear’s amputated hand, actually laughing out loud as the pain turned his mirth to agony.

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It was invariably called the lull before the storm.

Lieutenant-Colonel Helford Mews pondered this as he listened to the deafening sounds of silence. A droplet of sweat announced its presence with a dull thud as it fell onto the desk from the end of his nose.

The heat was unbearable. Searing temperatures and scorching sun bleached any life and color from the land.

Now the air was bad, as the smell of death permeated the room and burned his nostrils.

The fighting had been bad. His men had been at it for hours, gunshots barely covering the sound of the screaming and death agonies of the soldiers.

Now there was silence. He sat at the desk, looking at the back of the locked plywood door, waiting for the sound of approaching footsteps from outside.

He was not afraid. His numbness led him to believe that his own death would be nothing. Nothing compared to that of witnessing the horrible deaths of his comrades. What could be worse than having to live with that?

It took another three minutes before he found out.

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Chapter Two: Robbery

London, UK. 2 March 2027

organ stepped on the accelerator as the car emerged from the bend at high speed. He M glanced in the mirror and smiled grimly as he saw they were falling back. The blue flashing lights came around the bend behind, more cautiously than he. He smiled.

He had almost done it. After he lost the police, he was home free.

His employers would be pleased with his work and, since he had already been paid, it was a good job they were. He sped away, rounding a few more corners taken at a suicidal rate, before he pulled over to the side of the road, slammed on the brakes and leapt out of the car. He quickly closed the door and disappeared on foot down the alleyway to his left.

He ran for a time before fatigue finally began to slow him.

He leant against a wall and listened. All over the city he could hear sirens, the police frantically looking for him. His was no meagre crime, no small-time burglary or mugging.

Finally, he found a small reserve of energy, zipped up the cheap parka he wore, and made his way to another car that he had stashed here earlier. The ancient Ford started first 25

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time and he drove casually away, passing three police cars on his journey to the Docklands.

As he approached the warehouse, he turned off the engine and the lights, and coasted to a stop. He turned the wheel and parked the car facing the parking lot entrance in case a sharp exit was needed. He had learnt from experience that not having a clear escape route could be the difference between life and death. Worse, it could be the difference between capture or freedom.

Morgan climbed out of the car and retrieved a small backpack from the back seat. He quietly closed the door before creeping over to the side entrance of the warehouse, avoiding the large metal roller doors at the front. The first-floor entrance would take him to the steel walkways that criss-crossed the upper level of the warehouse. He climbed the stairs to the door and peered in through the grime-covered window, seeing a number of armed thugs standing around a shiny black car. They knew he was coming. He slowly turned the door handle and was surprised to find the door unlocked. They were either sloppy or complacent, and he smiled grimly. He eased into the doorway and crept along the walkway, directly above the armed men. He was silent and fast. His footing sure as he made his way along the narrow steel walkway. He took the off backpack and opened it. As he reached each of the support struts suspending the walkway to the ceiling, he planted a small explosive device from the bag onto the connection bracket. All of the devices were connected to a small detonator he had in his right 26

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pocket, and would cause the catwalk to crash down if he pressed the small red button on its side.

When he reached the far side of the warehouse, he passed over a number of large crates, stacked in the corner of the otherwise empty warehouse. He straddled the walkway railing and slowly lowered himself onto the top of one of the crates before dropping noiselessly to the floor.

He reached again into the small bag and removed a number of items. Within seconds, he transformed his appearance to that of a homeless man, stinking of alcohol and covered in grime. He kept the crates between himself and the men waiting for him and sat on a number of rolled-up plastic bags in the corner, looking dishevelled and weary.

He pulled a silenced pistol from his belt and placed it in the folds of his coat, before he removed a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag from the knapsack. The scene was set. He had the bottle in one hand and the detonator in the other as he started to sing loudly in a drunken voice.

There were immediate shouts of alarm, and he was pleased to see all the men appear from around the side of the crates. Not one of them professional enough to stay at his post to check for some sort of trap.

Oi, you, shut it! One of the apes growled as he approached Morgan menacingly. The goon reached forward and knocked the bottle from Morgan’s hand as Morgan pressed the detonator switch. The explosion, which was more a series of small pops than a fireball, caught everybody's attention. Even Morgan stopped singing. The catwalk creaked for a moment, and hung in the air, before it 27

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finally crashed to the ground. The guards turned and ran toward the explosion, one glancing back nervously at Morgan as he rounded the corner out of sight.

Instantly, Morgan was on his feet and following them.

The walkway had fallen to the ground, crushing their car in the process. They stood around; guns ready, looking from the collapsed walkway to the ceiling. Morgan didn't hesitate.

He shot three before the other two knew what was happening. They managed to bring their guns up before being felled by two well-placed shots from Morgan's gun. All was quiet again.

Morgan quickly located the unobtrusive trapdoor in one corner of the warehouse leading to an underground area.