The Phenomenon
The Phenomenon
Written by R.K. Katic
Edited by Ms. Vicki Behme
Copyright © 2017 R.K.Katic
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13:978-1548141950
DEDICATION
First and foremost, this is dedicated to Ms. Amanda Holmes, without whom this work wouldn't have been possible.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Author would like to thank the people at Google first and foremost. It is the researchers best friend, and is the tool I used most to find information and details in order to refine the work you will find in the following pages. I'd also like to thank The fine people and facilities of the Bay County Florida Library system and the Gulf County Library System for the assistance they rendered in the initial rough draft of this work. Other notable mentions include the fine people serving within the United States Military, particularly the Department of the Navy, the Navy itself, and the United States Marine Corps, also, the British Consulate General of New York, the fine people at Amazon & their subsidiary Createspace. In addition, I would like to thank the Moderation team at Reddit.com for their assistance and all the Redditors (17,000 at the time of this publication) who encouraged me and believed in me, notably one Mr. Kyle Baker. My Patrons from www.patreon.com/KaticRK; Mr. Marcus Rostamian, Mr. Kyle Parker, Ms. Brooks Woodhill, Ms. Jo Marie, & Mr. Jack Woodyard, and last but certainly not least, I'd like to thank my personal friend Ms. Amanda Reinfeld for her cover illustration, and Mr. Joe Felder of California for the contribution of a laptop which assisted in the Editing of this work.
Chapter 1Page 1Chapter 22Page 218
Chapter 2Page 7Chapter 23Page 234
Chapter 3Page 15Chapter 24Page 240
Chapter 4Page 24Chapter 25Page 254
Chapter 5Page 33Chapter 26Page 272
Chapter 6Page 41Chapter 27Page 295
Chapter 7Page 49Chapter 28Page 314
Chapter 8Page 60Chapter 29Page 336
Chapter 9Page 68Chapter 30Page 342
Chapter 10Page 80Chapter 31Page 352
Chapter 11Page 95Chapter 32Page 358
Chapter 12Page 100Chapter 33Page 366
Chapter 13Page 115Chapter 34Page 374
Chapter 14Page 126Chapter 35Page 385
Chapter 15Page 138Chapter 36Page 396
Chapter 16Page 148Chapter 37Page 403
Chapter 17Page 164Chapter 38Page 411
Chapter 18Page 178Chapter 39Page 420
Chapter 19Page 186Chapter 40Page 429
Chapter 20Page 193Chapter 41Page 437
Chapter 21Page 210Chapter 42Page 449
Chapter 1
Day 1
The end of the world officially began at 3:54 am. That was when the first Emergency Alert System (EAS) broadcast went out in the United States.
We interrupt our programming at the request of the White House. This is the Emergency Alert System. All normal programming has been discontinued during this National Emergency.
Please remain in your homes. If you are not at home, find shelter immediately. Close all blinds and shades, block out all windows.
Do not look outside. Do not look at the sky. Do not make noise.
Your cooperation is vital to your survival. Appointed government personnel will update you shortly. Please do not use your telephone, as the telephone lines should be kept open for emergency use.
Eric awoke to the Emergency Alert System tone issuing from his phone. He couldn't help but wonder what could be going so wrong this early in the morning. He reached out from under his sheets to grasp at his phone on its dock on his nightstand. He unlocked it with a swipe of his finger, and read the displayed message with one eye as he rubbed sleep from the other.
Then he sat up and read it again with both.
And again.
He almost wanted to laugh. Surely this had to be some kind of joke, right? Definitely, this was some kind of joke. He rolled over and threw his legs off the side of the bed, working his feet into his slippers. He stretched and stood up, fatigue wobbling his gait as he took a few steps towards the windows. He felt his heavy drapes resist parting, almost as if they knew what would happen. As he peeked out down the street, he didn't see anything unusual at first.
Then he remembered, the sky. He turned his gaze upwards to the sickly orange glow of the city’s light pollution splayed across the clouds, and that's where he saw them. Small, black, jagged, like pieces of shattered onyx flocking through the sky. No wings, no sounds, just countless shards of ebony wheeling and flitting to and fro in a chaotic scramble, streaming across the sky.
And then he stopped breathing. His hands let go of the drapes, allowing them to fall back into place, but his legs fell out from under him. He collapsed where he stood, legs folded, rear end plopping down into the carpet, torso falling back, bouncing off his laundry hamper and twisting, throwing his arms out as his head landed on the floor. He could not move; he could not breathe. As everything faded, he had just one thought: "Oh God, why did I look?"
~
Eric wasn’t alone in his mistake. In retrospect, the initial warning should have had stronger language. Up and down the east coast of the United States and Canada, people awoke to their phones blaring tones at them, read the EAS, and sated their curiosity. Eric was merely one among tens of millions who didn't listen, and so he was one of tens of millions who died at or around 3:54am, Day One. Parents left behind sleeping children. Night shift workers never made it home, their spouses either succumbing as well, or left stranded with no way of knowing their partner’s fate for sure.
Of those who survived the initial apocalypse, most managed to survive a few days longer. Millie, for example, was trying to find her boyfriend, an overnight security guard at the San Diego Zoo. When her phone went off, the zoo loudspeaker system directed all personnel to report to their assigned emergency preparedness stations which, as a non-employee, Millie didn't have. She went into the nearest unlocked building she could find which, as it happened, was a combination aquarium and reptile house.
In the beginning, she still had contact with her boyfriend Larry who was sheltered in his place inside one of the first aid stations, but after the sixth hour he'd stopped responding to her texts. She hoped his phone had simply died, but she had a sneaking feeling in the back of her mind that something much worse was afoot. There was an office in the aquarium wing, someplace where some of the local fish keepers (she's sure they have some kind of special name but she doesn't know it) did their paperwork, took their breaks, and managed the daily business of fish-keeping. There was also a couch and a mini-fridge in there, and that's where she slept and spent most of her time listening to the radio. The first day it kept repeating the same message for the whole morning. In the afternoon though, the message changed, finally delivering the promised update.
We interrupt our programming at the request of the White House. This is the Emergency Alert System. All normal programming has been discontinued during this National Emergency.
At 0310 hours eastern standard time North American Aerospace Defense Command detected an object of indeterminate mass entering the atmosphere over the eastern seaboard.
All personnel who have attempted to observe this object directly or indirectly have been reported as entering a catatonic state, shortly followed by exsanguination through unknown means.
At 0328 an unmanned reconnaissance aircraft approached the unknown object. Immediately after entering audible range the objects radar signature scattered and all contact with the aircraft was lost.
Further analysis of radar has shown that the object separated into a cloud of indeterminate size and a small part of its mass surrounded the aircraft briefly. Animals in controlled observation environments on the east coast have been seen to be housing in
burrows or laying on the ground with their eyes tightly closed.
The cloud of objects is now spreading at low altitude over the entire North American continent. For your own safety, we repeat:
Do not look outside.
Do not look at the sky.
Do not make noise.
Your cooperation is vital to your survival. Further updates will be issued as new information is gained. Please do not use your telephone, as the telephone lines should be kept open for emergency use
~
Day 3
Millie has fallen into a routine. She wakes up at 6:30am, and goes fishing in any number of small tanks with fish that aren't poisonous, as described by their informational plaques. Most aren't very appetizing, but, it's food. After setting her catches to slowly cook on one of the heated fake rocks in an empty reptile display, she turns the lamps to high and attempts to feed the rest of the animals under her care.
She knows it's been 3 days since the first alert. She knows that the regular power grid went out in the first evening when everything shut off for a few seconds and she heard the generators kick on. She has no idea when they will run out of fuel. The lizards need warmth and insects; the fish need their bubblers, filters, and fish food; the fridges, lights, air conditioners, and the phone need power. Millie knows her situation is likely unique. Most people caught away from home are probably in nice grocery stores or with strangers, not alone, not stuck in a zoo, but she's just thankful the reptile house and the aquarium are in the same windowless building. She's thankful she's got food, water, entertainment, and things to keep her busy. It's the damn noise that bothers her. All hours of the day and night. Chittering, skittering scratches on the walls and roof, at the heavy wooden doors. She wonders how long until they break through. The second night her phone goes off again, this time with a text message, not coming from the regular Emergency Alert System.
Due to recent events and information gained by this service, the Emergency Alert System has discontinued our normal Audio Warnings in favor of text notifications.
The unknown entities which entered the atmosphere early yesterday morning have continued to expand their coverage of the planet. At this point there is no habitable safe zone.
Remain where you are. The phenomenon appears to be attracted to heat, light, and movement. Visual contact with the phenomenon is lethal. Physical contact with the phenomenon is lethal.
Maintenance and operation of critical infrastructure is being prioritized; however, there may be brief interruptions in water, power, and communications.
Do not leave your shelter. Do not look at the sky. Do not make noise. Do not generate any more heat or light than is absolutely necessary for your survival.
To all personnel with ∆6 clearance: Blue 12 procedures are in effect.
~
Day 4
Millie jolts awake, panicked. The dream again, the same faceless, formless void calling to her, demanding she listen, obey... but she could never hear what they want, never understand what they command. It was enough to put her off her breakfast. Something was wrong though, something was different... and then she heard it.
The silence.
The lights were off. The air was stifling and humid. The generators must have finally died. But that wasn't all, it was silent, truly silent. No more scratching, no more rustling. Dead silence. She checked her phone. She'd plugged it up to charge before going to bed, so it was nearly at full charge, but no more updates, just the same repeated warning over and over again, texted to her every hour on the hour like clockwork.
This is a state of Emergency. Remain in your shelters. Do not look outside. Do not look at the sky. Do not make noise. Do not make heat. To personnel with ∆6 clearance: Blue 12 procedures are in effect.
It's not like she had a choice before, but now she was in full compliance. It wasn't going to be long before the fish exhausted their oxygen and their water grew stagnant, after that the reptiles would starve as the supplies of freeze dried crickets and mice went bad. Then the air itself, she was sure, would become toxic.
It was time to look into finding another place.
She didn't remember the benches being so heavy when she barricaded the doors that first time. Maybe after a week away from the gym she'd just gotten flabby. Either way, time to take a peek outside, just to be sure whatever-they-were were really gone. She'd use her compact mirror; no way she'd look directly. As the door creaked open she thought she heard something, but looking back it looked like the savannah monitor had just crawled up on its branch. No big deal. Fresh cold air wafted through the crack and she resisted putting her face to it. She slowly moved the compact mirror into position. She couldn't see anything, just pitch blackness. No... wait... there are edges. Intersections in the dark. Like... cracks in glass...
Millie wondered why she was holding her breath, and then she realized she wasn't. She simply couldn't breathe. She slid down against the door, her weight pushing it closed again, her arms deadweights, falling to her sides. Her head fell, her chin coming to rest on her chest, she could see her ankles and feet poking out of her capris. They were so pale... so pale...
chapter 2
Day 1
Dr. Henry Walthers slept fitfully, his head laid down on his desk. The lighting from the recessed sconces cast a soft glow over his well-appointed office. Cherrywood paneling with rosewood accents and trim made up the walls. The floors were covered in a grey deep plush carpeting. It was equipped with all the modern amenities, state of the art computer, Bluetooth linked surround sound for his discretely tucked away stereo, even his own bathroom in red marble and silver. His desk was a single piece of red cedar which had been meticulously hand carved, sanded, and polished. The corners of the room were tastefully rounded out and made into bookshelves. The books filling them were mostly first editions, though a few of the more recent publications, generally analyses of the classics, were more run of the mill.
A shrill tone woke him abruptly, the paper he'd been grading when he fell asleep sticking to his face as he sat up. The sound which had woken him continued to issue from his cell, plugged up and laying on an antique end table on the other end of the office. Annoyed, he pulled the paper from his face and straightened his glasses. He looked at the name on the paper he'd ruined with his unconscious drooling. Dean Beach: a sub-par student at best anyhow, a "D" was now their best hope, as looking at the paper even briefly showed they got their understanding of Romeo & Juliet more from Leonardo DiCaprio & Claire Danes then from the Bard.
He looked over at his trusty standby, a cup usually containing a bit of hot tea with lemon, and found it empty. Next to it stood a small steel clock given to him by his brother. The hands stood at 11:56. Cursing, he realized the import of his situation. He'd phoned his wife Evelyn at 7pm to let her know he'd be late grading papers. She was the overnight librarian at the library. That’s how they'd met initially, he the student working on his doctoral thesis, she the ever helpful master of the library. Of course, it wasn't purely her helpfulness that attracted his attentions. She was everything he'd ever wanted and never knew it. She was a quiet kind of sarcastic, with a hilarious and biting wit she only brought out once she knew you. She loved old country music but you'd more often catch her listening to classic rock. She could cook anything she put her mind to but nothing would ever look like a recipe. She was endlessly polite to strangers but blunt to the point of rudeness with friends and family. She wasn't the best at anything, but she was perfect at being herself. She was easily his height, a little on the curvier side, with dark hair and eyes, full pouty lips and blemish-less skin that was porcelain in the winter but would tan to a golden bronze in summer.
He could still remember the night they met socially for the first time. He was a week from defending his thesis and attended the birthday party of someone he barely knew, a party in a bar with Jell-O shots instead of cake. He was late, and she was already there, and already on her fifth or sixth drink when he arrived. She adjusted her dres
s and asked his opinion of how she looked. Seeing her in a dress rather than her usual far more conservative work clothes, they had their first kiss before he left that evening, and had been inseparable ever since.
She wasn't supposed to wait for him but to come right to work. It was odd, though, that she hadn't stopped in to see him before going to the library. Nights like this she usually made it a point to stop by or bring him a bite to eat before she went in to work at ten. Of course, she might have been in too much pain to walk all the way to the English department before going to the library. That had been the case a few times since she really started showing her pregnancy. She was 7 and a half months in now.
The shrill tones of his phone drilled into him once more. Likely another Amber Alert. Such emergencies were the only things in his experience that got his phone to make that particular form of screech. He stood, feeling and hearing the creaks and cracks of his joints popping and stretching. It was seven steps around his desk and to his phone and charger, and then as his knees buckled he took two more to one of the chairs he kept for visitors. The time was 12:15am. He read the warning on his phone, then, he looked and read it again.
TO PROF. HENRY WALTHERS
PROJECT IS A GO
MAKE BEST SPEED TO BUNKER
ETA 1 HOUR
He re-read the message three times, becoming more distressed with each. He never actually thought this would happen. He signed up to the Project on a lark, went through the training, the briefings, and evaluations under the presumption that it would just be an extra paycheck for doing, well, nothing. Now he had an hour to get himself and his family to safety before the end of the world.
When the Project began, the US government contracted with Berkeley to design and build a server farm on campus, supposedly to run a site dedicated to online educational resources... a site that never materialized due to convenient cuts in Department of Education funds. However, the servers to support the site were put into place in a building with independent power and temperature control, and also a fully stocked survival bunker linked to it just off campus for him and his family in the event of a disaster. The intent was for Walthers to maintain the full archives of every written work ever put into a digital format, including government files.