do?”
“I’m sorry, Bill. The situation is out of our hands. Madelyn will need to be…”
While Jeremiah explains the predetermined process, scientists rush into the room where Madelyn lies, moving her body into a Life Support unit, and whisk her away.
Jeremiah escorts Bill to a restricted area so they each can witness what has just been explained. “Madelyn will help to reestablish life for our generation,” Jeremiah encouragingly shares with Bill as they stand within the above-ground observation quarters of the complex, and sightsee the treeline off in the distance, amongst the desolate wasteland.
“The goal of the project is to reverse the existing surface damage. There you see the developed trees which thrive on the environment’s harmful toxins. The drawback to this habitation is that the propagating seeds need a human body in which to germinate.”
Adjusting the magnification settings of the viewer panel, Bill enlarges the focus onto the distant forest, where countless trees grow as big as Redwoods. Jeremiah locates where his brother rests, back beyond the newly planted trees that still have distorted human forms to them. Within the front row are two saplings, which vaguely resemble Madelyn after being grafted into two.
The Chair
As Bill Redding and Chaplain Jeremiah view the grounds, miles away, from inside an observation facility, Jeremiah explains. “Beyond where the newest transplants grow are the larger species. These trees are roughly the circumference of a small house, tower hundreds of feet up, and number in the thousands. Cultivated from human specimens these organisms grow rapidly due to their genetic code, and are intended to reverse the inhospitable surface environment.”
The men notice a stream of flames igniting the ground. Jeremiah reveals, “The pods that fall from the trees must be destroyed. If they’re not properly controlled, we face the danger of dealing with the seeds.”
“What’s so dangerous about the seeds?” Bill skeptically asks.
With a pale expression the chaplain responds, “The unprocessed seeds have the ability to travel on their own. They efficiently hunt down a living host to develop and grow within it.”
Panicked nausea sickens Bill after realizing that by feeding his wife one of these seeds, he’s contributed to this growing concern that secretly threatens his below-ground community.
A large fiery explosion plumes at ground level amongst the forest, replacing Bill’s fears with confusion. The burst is followed by a second explosive blast. After taking a worried glance at Jeremiah, Bill utilizes the viewing panel by zooming in on the events going on within the project.
Receiving orders from a voice inside his head, Jeremiah addresses Bill. “You’ve just been reenlisted, Officer Dreg.” A chilling sensation cuts through Bill’s brain from the command. Not since his military days as a recon specialist has he gone by that name. When his enlistment was over, technology allowed for him to set aside all remembrances of his service career.
Dreg’s posture straightens and his senses alert to awaiting orders. Bill knew this day was imminent. He and his wife were assigned to this facility pending their service training.
“We’re to investigate The Reversal Project,” Ronsen instructs, then escorts Dreg further.
The underground transport they use resembles a rollercoaster car on a set of tracks. In a rush of seconds Jeremiah and Dreg arrive several miles away from the facility at their destination. Notified recruits come to attention, suited in lead armor and equipped with flame throwers and energy-based weapons, as the Lt. Commander and Second Officer arrive.
In addition to their air-tight helmet and thick gear, each man is issued a vaccine to protect them from the destined surface area.
Two suits remain rigged to the back wall of the barracks. After placing distinctive markings on their armor, Jeremiah and Dreg suit up. The crew is briefed by the chaplain, and instructed to address him as Lt. Commander Ronsen. The commander relays what their mission is by repeating what he’s told from inside his head.
“Are there any questions?” Ronsen asks in a firm tone with his Second Officer, Dreg, standing beside him. In unison each man in the barracks exclaims, “Sir, no sir!”
The patrol group apprehensively advances through the grove, with weapons raised, anticipating a standoff with fellow colony members who wander aimlessly amongst the grounds. An excessive amount of seeds in one host will cause adverse side effects. The zombie-like survivors shoot a chilling stare at the squad, then in a feral rage spring toward the team.
With adrenalin coursing through their veins, the troops maintain formation. Panic would dictate to squeeze the weapon’s trigger and bring down the advancing threat. Years of training has taught these men how to master the art of “Self-control," allowing them to harness their wild emotions, and channel such energy into a viable tool for focus. With heightened alertness the company awaits orders.
Ronsen’s gloves faintly glow as he holds out his hands. Then, in an amplified tone he declares, “In nomine Patris, ait ad me liberabit vos!” (In the name of The Father, I free you from this curse!) A pulse of blinding white light blasts from the commander’s person out across the grove. The men later describe the sensation as the feel of new life passing through them.
The attackers halt, their focus fixed on Ronsen. Ease comes over the survivors, revealing recuperation. The squad members breathe easily. Tension returns when the recovered victims flee toward the facility’s fallout entranceway. The sound of a thousand tiny insects scurrying along the ground and trees draws closer to the squad’s position.
The area ahead is covered with a multitude of apple-like seeds, moving by way of six organic legs toward the battalion.
With the signal given the men open fire. Many of the tiny, relentless organisms make it past the scorching fire blasts and pulse shots, toward the commander. Despite their efforts Ronsen is overcome by the parasitic invaders which find a way to get past the suit and enter his body.
As the swarm floods in, Dreg hears Jeremiah’s voice whisper from inside his head. “Return in three days to build this beacon of hope.” A grand image appears in Dreg’s mind with detailed blueprints to achieve the visionary project.
The seeds cause a rapid transmutation, forcing Ronsen’s lead armor to split and come apart. Roots grow from his legs running deep into the ground, anchoring the commander firmly into place. His skin replaced by a shell of thick bark. His body swells and heightens to a tree-like trunk, while his arms stretch to form branches. The squad follows Dreg’s command to return to the barracks after an unfamiliar voice inside Dreg’s head insists that they must depart.
Fulfilling Jeremiah’s request, Dreg returns three days later. He instinctively begins work on the enormous tree that has grown from the chaplain’s remains.
As the months pass the area becomes less toxic, to a point where Dreg is able to work on the dedication without the need of protective gear. Throughout this time a crew regularly stands watch over the site to monitor Dreg’s safety.
It’s not clear what he’s building, as he incorporates complex components and fashions a grand architect. After four months Dreg finishes the last implementation. It’s a uniquely crafted chair, which fits into place at the citadel’s top level.
Exhausted, Dreg takes a seat. A nourishing sensation courses through his body, forcing his eyes open to find he’s in a world free of catastrophic destruction. Resting on a park bench, during a beautiful spring day, the air is refreshingly cool as he takes in a deep breath, then lets it out.
Dreg stands and one of the guards appears in the spot. The man is suited in lead-issue armor. He stares up at Dreg with panicked eyes. Hurrying up from his spot another man appears there also. The nauseated soldier rushes over to a flowering, weeping tree in full bloom, and franticly gets his helmet off. Embracing his stomach, and dropping to his knees, he retches awfully.
“They are closing down the project!” the man dressed in a custom tailored camouflaged lab s
uit informs the two as he stands. “I, along with several other top scientists, have spent months trying to figure out how the two of you disappeared.”
Retrieving a discarded newspaper, and troubled by more pressing matters, Dreg reads aloud the date printed on the paper. The overwhelming information inside each man’s head clarifies…
They, along with 98% of this nation’s citizens, have less than 62 hrs to live.
Three Days of Hope
There are three men who look out of place, standing in the middle of a city park, one wearing a camouflage lab suit, the other having lead armor on, and the third man who is staring at today’s newspaper is dressed in a grungy mechanic’s outfit. After reading the date aloud, the shabby man turns to the two and says, “We have less than three days until this land is destroyed.”
Each man is specialized in a unique field of training. The man wearing the urban-colored lab suit, with the name Bradshaw on his coat, is a computer science expert and chief engineer. The man wearing the lead armor has “Talon” painted on the helmet he holds, and is trained as a master of aviation. The third man with the newspaper (previously known as Bill) goes by the name Dreg, and has had an impressive background as a military recon specialist.
“Let’s make sure we’re all in agreement,” Dreg begins, “that we’re here to try and prevent