Surface Runners

By Pierre Bunikiewicz

Project yourself in a future where in the aftermath of the Nogaplan people are forced to live deep underground. In this Action Packed novel, but for the courageous few Surface Runners who risk their lives to run to the surface and recover much needed "Packages" that help the colonies to survive, humanity never sees the light of day. And if courage isn't the only quality needed to survive a Run, luck, speed and know-how help a man to beat the dreaded clock. For a Runner has only forty minutes Run time before he's detected, hunted down and destroyed. Project yourself into this underground world and imagine now the experiment concocted by Runners Command. A human experiment designed to outsmart that clock and to help humanity to return to the surface.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483546216

Book preview

9781483546216

PROLOGUE

March 10, 2175: the Global Conflict between the major superpowers created in the aftermath of the Nogaplan’s fall ended in disaster. No universal peace treaty, no leadership prevented the abominable sacking of cities, towns, villages and hamlets. No wonder the Machines took over the world! Entire continents were ravaged and humans forced underground. But for Surnea, a once prosperous suburb of Norangeles, now fortified and changed beyond recognition, all urban areas turned into a desolate desert. Even the Human Resistance that organized in the abandoned Angeles Forest Catacombs couldn’t stop the Machines. The Robot armies razed to the ground the Angeles Forest, flooded the old Nogaplan’s Mines and pulverized the old vents used to deploy the last Depleted Uranium Rockets. Humans were forced to hide farther underground. Farther, deeper, away from the world above, making even periodic returns to the surface to scavenge for food or equipment most perilous.

By mid-year, the Centralizer known to command the various Machine Armies was moved to Surnea’s outskirts and housed under a giant Plasma Bubble. Constantly electrified, its unbreakable gelatinous surface made ingress and egress nearly impossible. At year’s end, the Centralizer was equipped with an extra sensitive Omega-Scanner capable of detecting any human presence within thirty-five minutes of a subject’s return to the surface. From that time on, men could no longer come back to the surface unpunished! Within a forty minute time span, machines destroyed any human trespasser!

1

April 17, 2225: present day.

We may have a problem, General. Phil turned a few knobs below his monochrome flat screen displays. The pattern of the static feed barely changed. We can still abort the Run. He removed his thick goggles connected by a wire to a control board and turned to the man standing behind him in the shadows.

We won’t get another chance like this, General Leat said, in a somber tone of voice. The lenses of his goggles shone strangely in the semi-darkness of the underground bunker where Runners Command had been established. Koll? His head swung to a slim man in his mid forties with disproportionately oversized goggles.

There’s no other way, General. Dr. Koll closed his old fashion virtual computer hand pad. Selection comes at a cost.

Phil’s eyes swung to Dr. Nora who had also removed her goggles. She had just cut off the communication channels with the rescue team stationed near the Runners Outpost.

But he’s one of our best men, Phil stood, staring angrily at the General.

All the other Command Operators turned in their direction. Saying nothing, their goggles tightly on, they stared at them.

It’s for the common good, the General groaned. Continue with the Run!

2

Command, Jeff Keffee huffed. As usual, it was hot on the surface and the deserted dusty ground would only cool down by midnight. No matter the time of the day, the moon-like landscape looked as dirty and inhospitable as ever. Command? Jeff wore the usual Runner’s suit, a light brown single piece of clothing made of a mixture of nylon and Rubber Root – the only underground bulb plant men had been able to successfully grow in mass quantities to both feed and clothe the underground population. Although it looked like a diver’s suit, it was much thinner, lighter and, like any garments made with Rubber Root, allowed the skin to breathe. A Runner’s suit was designed to improve a Runner’s aerodynamics and progress on the arid surface. Command, can you hear me? He tapped his helmet with his right hand. For a solid thirty seconds the small speakers built into his helmet had been silent and the various sensors projecting data inside his visor displayed erroneous information. For a Runner on the surface, thirty seconds was an eternity – especially in the midst of a Run. Jeff checked the stopwatch on his wrist. Command, I’m ninetyfive seconds from the hatch. Do you copy?

An unintelligible voice interrupted by static croaked something in response.

Package retrieved as planned, Jeff proudly added. Return underground imminent. Do you copy? Despite the oppressive weight of his backpack he ran almost as fast as he had done during the first segment of this Run – when he was rushing down to Mechanics Flats to pick up a partially burned water condenser abandoned by a division of the United Republican Machines. Like his older brother Kaleam, he could outrun an average Runner and carry heavy loads without flinching. Jeff Keffee had mastered the art of coming to the surface, running to scavenge goods the machines had left behind and returning underground within the thirty-five minutes deadline. He had it in his blood.

We Roger your feedback, the voice returned, muffled by some hissing noise. Sorry for the blackout.

Wrong time for break-downs, Phil! He shook his head and tapped the helmet again. Better check the equipment when I come down. Reaching the end of the flat plane, he quickly climbed a few rocks and rushed towards an ascending slope.

We’re still trying to get you back on our screens, Phil added. His voice seriously distorted by static. Condition of the package?

Raw, Jeff huffed. But properly reconditioned it will produce drinkable water for months.

Good job, Jeff, the voice murmured. What would the Colonies do without Runners like you. Nobody else can go up there and outrun the enemy like you.

You’re full of it, Phil. Jeff groaned. With what your buddy Koll and the Brass are working on... He coughed. You won’t need old fashion Runners like us.

We’re losing the audio. Phil’s voice crackled. I’ll boost the auxiliary channels in a moment. There was some noise in the background. Other barely audible voices seemed to comment – who knows to complain.

If you thought Command could keep it secret forever, Jeff huffed, running over a tough patch. You’re dead wrong!

There was a sudden lapse in the voice and data streaming, a temporary blackout in the helmet. Then almost instantly, the system rebooted itself.

Helmet data stream back on line, Phil suddenly said in a surprisingly clear tone of voice. Please confirm.

Roger, Jeff’s eyes quickly surveyed the data projected inside his visor. Everything seemed normal. On the left, the readings showed that the landscape hadn’t changed since he had lost contact. The weather conditions were the same and no machine or robot had been detected. On the right, he could see his vital signs. While his effort output was reaching his limits, his speed was constant and his calorie burn ratio nominal. As usual, his blood pressure was low, his heart rate a bit fast and muscle acidity tolerable. Although he couldn’t see the hatch yet it was within his reach. The projection on the visor confirmed it. With preemptive relief, Jeff smiled. Way to go! Shortly, he would log yet another successful Run.

Jeff! Phil’s distorted voice in the helmet shouted. Code three! On your... Muffled by an outburst of static and distorted nearly beyond comprehension, the voice came by waves. Of... degrees... enemy position... Code three!

What? Jeff cried. Code three meant imminent attack. As he put his hand on his plasma gun holster, his frightened eyes scanned the data projected on his visor. But for his suddenly rising blood pressure and accelerated heart rate, the remainder of the information looked the same. None of the robot specific scanners built into his helmet had detected an enemy presence. He felt the shivers run down his spine. Few machines were able to elude a helmet’s scanner. What is it? Trying to keep his speed constant, he turned his head left, then right. Command! Where is it?

The voice croaked back, but he couldn’t understand a word.

Sweat percolating on his forehead, he angrily hit his helmet with the palm of his hand. Come on! He shouted. Command! Do you copy? Where is it?

Five o’clock! Phil’s voice suddenly broke through with incredible clarity.

Oh, shit! Turning in the direction given by Command, Jeff felt his legs give. As the air filled with an infernal roar and dust lifted from all directions, he could partially see the shiny body of a Sonic Slasher. Like a giant mountain of iron, the flying machine powered by numerous rockets was settling down on the ground. Dozens of laser guns, gyrating saws and enormous grinding claws stuck out of its round body.

Run! Phil’s voice shouted. Run for your life!

3

Immediately, Jeff pulled the emergency release latch on his backpack’s belt and dropped the whole load on the ground. Suddenly lighter, he sprinted towards the hatch as fast as he could.

Wasting no time, the Sonic Slasher’s rockets swiveled into lateral position. With a terrible roar, for only a few seconds they spun the machine on its axis then quickly propelled it in pursuit of the Runner. It was in Surface Grind Mode. Its powerful gyrating saws and grinding claws would plow the ground at high speed and pulverize everything in its path.

God! Jeff doubled his efforts. He needed to speed up no matter what. In his helmet’s visor, his vital signs had gone out of whack.

As the machine raked the ground and crushed some rocks, it began to move in Jeff’s direction at an increasingly rapid pace. With every yard it easily ascended the slope. It dug up a channel behind it like cutting into butter. Jeff had never dealt with a Sonic Slasher before. He knew by reputation that in a matter of seconds that murderous machine could rip a hundred-yard stretch of land, pulverize anything on its path and fly away as if nothing had happened.

Reaching his hands out to dive through the open hatch, Jeff grimaced. If the emergency membrane at the bottom of the vent had not been activated, he would have plunged to his death. That particular vent was over one hundred feet deep!

Abort dive! Phil’s voice in his helmet suddenly shouted. Then it added: Jump left!

Damn! In a breath Jeff executed the order and, missing the hatch by a hair, tumbled away.

As he did so, the Sonic Slasher ripped the hatch and plowed the ground around the opening. Immediately, the vent caved in.

Standing up, Jeff watched, through his cracked visor, the Sonic Slasher veer to the right then rapidly take off. It quickly ascended into the sky. No doubt, it would shortly plunge in his direction at tremendous speed.

Command, Jeff murmured knowing he had positively lost contact. Pray for me! Taking his helmet off and tossing it on the ground, his terrified eyes scanned the deserted landscape. If there was an operational hatch somewhere within reach, he couldn’t see it. No matter how much he had studied the topography of Mechanics Flats and the surrounding areas before coming to the surface, he couldn’t visualize the escape route without the visor’s help. He quickly looked in the direction of Mechanics Flats. If he ran down to the piles of scrap left behind by the Enemy Machines, he might find a hiding place. He had been there only minutes ago.

Pray for me, he murmured, reaching for his plasma gun. That weapon could stun Mechanical Tentacles, confuse light Robot Artillery, repel ball-shaped Automated Scouts, but it was no match for a Sonic Slasher. Still, it was better than no weapon at all. Taking a deep breath, Jeff rushed down the slope.

Delaying its descent no longer, like a grotesque bird of prey, the Sonic Slasher dove for the Runner.

Eat it! Trying to dodge the machine again, the Runner fired in the Sonic Slasher’s direction.

Roaring, the machine bounced off the ground and once again took off. It gained only minimal altitude and, floating in the air, watched its prey.

With a gasp, the Runner sat on the ground. Despite his sunburned face, Jeff looked pale. As he put his hand on his bleeding shoulder socket, his eyes widened in horror. Together with his plasma gun, his right arm was missing! His eyes swung from his wound towards the piles of scrap. They looked so far away! Inquisitively, he looked up. His eyes met the stationary Sonic Slasher. What was it waiting for?

Suddenly rolling in from every direction, dozens of Automated Scouts surrounded Jeff. As they stopped for a brief moment, sharp blades popped out of their perfectly round bodies.

4

In complete silence, wearing their brown suits and their backpacks ready for their short stay on the surface, the Runners walked in single file into the Planning Chamber. It was an armored conference room with high ceilings and thick concrete walls. Although it was early in the morning and the sun had already risen on the surface, here deep underground in the Runners Outpost a Runner could hardly tell whether it was day or night. The Runners Outpost was a poorly lit bunker-like building. Inside, its flickering yellowish lights and tortuous corridors made it look bigger than two thousand square feet. Outside, the defective floodlights cutting through the tunnel’s somber darkness dwarfed the Runners Outpost. Out of Colony 12’s sight, the Runners Outpost was the only human underground dwelling established so far into enemy territory. Built only a few hundred yards from one of the largest unobstructed shafts in the region, it seemed to be guarding that giant opening. At around one thousand feet below the surface, Colony 12 was one of half a dozen human settlements closest to the surface and home to a flock of resilient and heroic Runners.

Ordinarily in the Runners Outpost, the Runners eagerly discussed their Runs with their Commander. There had always been an atmosphere of camaraderie among these special men. Distances to cover, goods to be picked up that in Runner-speak they called packages, the timing of their Run, the proximity of robots and machines as well as alternate escape routes were hotly debated. Today in the Runners Outpost, everybody looked tense.

My friends, Commander Novus said, stepping into the Planning Chamber, one of the largest rooms in the bunker. Despite the fifty men already waiting in the Planning Chamber, the room seemed spacious. Whether because of its high ceilings, the lighting, the tiled floor or the wood benches running along the walls, it seemed disproportionately larger than any room in the Runners Outpost. An old digital clock built into the concrete wall showed the date: May 18, 2225; and the time: 06:06 A.M.. On a long oval conference table lay a bunch of rolled maps stacked on an unrolled map of Mallen Valley, a region used by the enemy as a chemical dumping grounds. Please be seated.

When the men were seated on the wood benches and set their backpacks on the ground, Commander Novus approached the oval conference table. You know already, yesterday we’ve incurred catastrophic losses! Instead of the usual military denim higher graded officers wore, he had put on a Runner’s brown suit. Few of his men had seen him dressed that way and many looked perplexed. The details are just coming down, he continued, resting his hands on the table. Colonies 3 and 8 had been completely destroyed.

While some Runners roared in dismay and a few shocked ones gasped for air, many lowered their heads to utter a prayer. Everyone had relatives, friends or acquaintances scattered throughout the Colonies. Many Runners gathered in the Runners Outpost regularly visited their next of kin in the neighboring Colonies 3 and 8.

The machines came down deeper than ever before. Commander Novus said after a long pause. We don’t know how or when, he shook his head. But the Centralizer has radically upgraded its armies. Human underground settlements are now more vulnerable than ever before!

A murmur of concern ran among the troops.

Next time, the eyes of Commander Novus scurried over the Runners. Next time, the machines won’t retreat before finishing us off!

It’s worse than we thought, Phil, who sat next to Kaleam, said. He tucked his thick goggles in his backpack and put it on the ground.

As many eyes swung in Phil’s direction, the Commander smiled in agreement.

A bit thinner and a couple years older than Kaleam, Phil was his closest friend. Together, they had done Runs many thought impossible and therefore had earned the other Runners’ respect. When Phil spoke, many listened.

No matter the depth, we’re no longer safe. Knowing he had everybody’s attention, Phil stood up. Before yesterday’s attack, we didn’t pay attention to certain changes on the surface detected by Runners Command during Jeff Keffe’s final Run. His eyes met those of Kaleam. May your brother be forever remembered for his ultimate sacrifice – Roam-Re, Jeff!

Roam-Re! The Runners called out as one voice. May he be remembered!

After careful analysis of Jeff’s data, Commander Novus murmured carefully. Runners Command found that the Centralizer had established new Relay Posts throughout Mechanic Flats. He quickly unrolled one of the maps that lay on the oval conference table and with a nod ordered Phil to hold it open.

Some of the Runners, mostly the younger and least experienced ones immediately stood and approached the table.

Unimpressed, the others exchanged words in a low tone.

Unlike we originally thought, the Commander pointed to numerous large dots on the map. These Relay Posts aren’t some sensors designed to detect Runners. His eyes quickly jumped from Runner to Runner. These are beacons. He looked back down at the map. And they are set up to direct entire robot divisions to the few operational hatches available to us. He pounded the table with his fist and looked in the direction of the men still sitting on the wood benches. They are telling the robots which vents go down to the Colonies!

We could bust the Relay Posts, one of the more seasoned Runners sitting two men away from Kaleam suggested.

A good proposition, Commander Novus remarked. But there are too many of them and not all look alike. Besides, he sighed. Mechanics Flats isn’t the only place where Relay Posts have been installed.

They’re all over the surface, Phil said releasing the map. It rolled back with a flap, revealing once more the map of Mallen Valley that lay unrolled beneath.

Why don’t we go at night? a Runner in training asked another Runner who looked as young as fifteen. Element of surprise, you know.

The word is out, the young Runner whispered. That the Centralizer deployed a super scanning virtual umbrella that is ten times more sensitive at night.

That’s why we haven’t done any night Runs for over a month, the Runner in training muttered.

Yesterday’s attack was a test, Commander Novus concluded. A bloody test! Unless something drastic is done to stop the Centralizer we’re dead meat!

Commander Novus is right, a deep voice resonated in the dark corner of the Planning Chamber.

All eyes turned in the voice’s direction.

5

Something drastic must be done! As the man stepped into the light, every Runner who was still sitting stood. As one man; everyone saluted him. Wearing a dark denim uniform and shiny black boots, the pale General Leat looked like a sick man. Unlike the Runners who had periodically been in the sun, he looked like he had never seen daylight.

Gentlemen, the General cleared his throat. Command tracked an unusual chemical compound, Clarimadiate Benzanatide or CBZ, left behind by the Machines. He looked down at the map of Mallen Valley and its surrounding areas. One of their damaged carriers transporting a small shipment of that material crashed right here. He put his finger on the map, nor far from a rocky formation separating Mallen Valley from the Dead River Bed Canyon – right in the vicinity of the Chalk Plateau.

While most of the Runners now had stepped up to the table, Kaleam remained some distance away. Observing Commander Novus, General Leat and Phil as they interacted, he thought his friend’s behavior seemed strange. Phil rarely befriended commanding officers. To the contrary, he often criticized them for their lack of experience on the surface and their planning of unrealistic or dangerous Runs.

Runners Command wants that chemical, General Leat declared. And if Command wants something, you Runners will bend backwards to bring it home.

Scratching his unshaven cheeks, Kaleam approached the Runners studying the map. Clarimadiate Benzanatide, he thought. CBZ. Where had he heard of it before? Standing on the tip of his toes, his eyes surveyed the sketchy topography of Mallen Valley. It hadn’t changed much since he had been there last.

Relieved Kaleam had joined the other Runners, Phil slowly made his way through the men and headed in his friend’s direction.

CBZ is an essential component needed to put together a special weapon Command had been working on, General Leat remarked. It’s one of the chemicals on the Runners Watch List.

Many Runners stared at him, murmuring to one another, some furrowing their brows.

Of course, General Leat sighed. Runners Command doesn’t expect you to remember every detail on the Watch List and pick up extra goods along the way. He smiled. When you go up there, you’re too busy trying to wrap up your Runs safely. And We understand that. He put his finger on the map again. The retrieval of that shipment of CBZ, the tone of his voice gradually rose. Will result in the delivery of our most ambitious program yet! His eyes shone like those of a mad man. With this Special Weapon, we will destroy the Centralizer! His eyes swiveled in the direction of the dark ceiling. And then we’ll take back the surface!

Whether disturbed by the General’s performance or knowing Mallen Valley’s difficult landscape and fearing the package’s contents, the Runners backed away from the General. They would not volunteer.

This said, Commander Novus nervously smiled at his men. The good news is that only one of you can do the Run we’ve plotted. So relax.

Murmuring, the Runners looked at each other.

That’s right, General Leat murmured, resting his back against the edge of the table. Only the best Runner will be sent up today. Only the man who’s genetically the best fit... He paused for a moment, searching for words that wouldn’t betray the Military Science Division’s true intentions. The man who’s got... so to speak, ugh, he grimaced. The best Runner’s genes? He quickly swallowed. Yes, the man who’ll go the extra mile, the man who won’t balk at pushing the time limit... Yes, that man will retrieve the CBZ and help us end machine tyranny!

As the Runners fell silent, many smaller individuals who went on short Runs and the younger Runners who, for the most part, had only been sent on training Runs, seemed relieved. As to the more seasoned and muscular men whose tanned skins attested to their repetitive surfacing, their facial features expressed concern. Even though they were all exceptional men who risked their lives on a daily basis, they weren’t ready for this Run. The fact that General Leat himself came to their briefing said it all. Today’s Run would be one of the most difficult and dangerous ever done. And the Runner chosen for the mission was expected to risk it all.

Gradually breaking the silence, the Runners began to discuss the situation in a low voice.

You wouldn’t mind a well-timed Run? Phil murmured into Kaleam’s ear. Would you?

Saying nothing, Kaleam remained still. He was observing the Commander and the General.

I know you well enough, Phil added. Standing only inches behind his friend, for a brief moment his eyes met those of General Leat. You’re not the type who’d turn down such a Run.

Making a sign with his hand to Commander Novus to move closer to him, the General spoke into the Commander’s ear.

This isn’t one that I’d enjoy, Kaleam responded, his eyes turning to the map.

As Kaleam mentally calculated the approximate distance between the hatch and the area where the CBZ had been spotted, Phil smiled.

Frowning, Kaleam scratched his unshaven cheeks and sighed heavily. His eyes ran back and forth over the map. The Run down the slope wouldn’t be too hard. But, the further downhill one went and the closer to the Norkey Rocks they ventured, the more difficult the return would be. He shook his head, remembering the terrain. Even an experienced Runner could easily become disoriented by Mallen Valley’s uneven landscape, the shining Norkey Rocks, the quickly changing position of the sun and treacherously deceiving distances. Thinking about it, he chewed on his mouth. In Mallen Valley, a mile long stretch could easily look like an hundred yards run.

If things go wrong, he muttered, his head slowly swiveling towards Phil. You’re talking about serious overtime.

In reply, Phil only nodded.

Didn’t Pete and Will kick some of Mallen Valley’s dust in the recent past? Kaleam inquired, his eyes searching for the familiar faces among all the Runners present in the Planning Chamber.

Yeah, Phil cautiously murmured. But they were wounded last week. They won’t be cleared for more than half a Run.

Is that so? Kaleam grimaced, stepping towards the wooden bench. Well, he stopped for a brief moment. There’s always Jim, Brian and Hal. His eyes scurried over three robust men with serious skin burns already sitting further down the bench. Their suits, ripped in many places, barely fit them. They could be good candidates.

They’re good Runners, Phil admitted, resting his left foot on the wooden bench. He flexed his knee then stretched his leg. Though they’re not as fast as you and me.

Heck, Kaleam laughed, giving a pat on his friend’s back. Maybe today will be your lucky day.

Today, Phil stretched his left arm. I’m on standby.

No shit? Kleam growled, catching his friend by the arm.

When they stopped talking, General Leat and Commander Novus studied Phil and Kaleam.

On standby? Kaleam groaned. Since when?

Command’s orders. Phil tried to retract his arm.

Right. After a moment’s pause, Kaleam released his friend. I should have volunteered free time to help Command in their sick research like you. Shaking his head, he scooped his backpack off the ground.

Your attention please! Commander Novus said nervously. As he moved away from the table, the noise level dropped. Within seconds, one could hear a pin drop. After numerous consultations with the Joint Staff, Runners Command picked the best candidate.

With a guilty sigh, Phil closed his eyes.

Novus’ eyes briefly met those of the General. He swallowed hard. And the Runner chosen for this mission is... His eyes swung back to his men.

6

Squinting, Kaleam opened the hatch and set his helmet on the ground. He had finally reached the surface. In spite of his special antiultraviolet contact lenses designed to automatically give the best shade to protect his eyesight, it took him a few painful seconds to get used to daylight. Over the decades, the greenhouse effect responsible for global warming had slowly waned. For want of oil and other combustible fuels, fumes produced by human machinery had dissipated with time. Yet the damage done to the ozone layer continued to worsen. Unfiltered solar and cosmic rays had permanently changed the planet’s ecology. Vast regions became uninhabitable deserts. While the intensity of the light penetrating the atmosphere doubled, ultraviolet radiation increased exponentially – endangering life and blinding many unprepared Runners.

From his raised vantage-point Kaleam could see down the slope on the left the reddish Norkey Rock formation extending nearly all the way to the horizon. On the right, he recognized the Chalk Plateau littered with its heaps of debris, blasted robots and scattered puddles that he knew contained discarded fuel and waste oil. This was the Mallen Valley he had visited on many occasions. Nothing or little had changed. Only the sunlight seemed much stronger than before.

So, here we are. He uttered, setting his foot on the next to last step of the ladder that was bolted to the ascending vent’s concrete wall. Back in Mallen Valley and in search of C... B... Z... His mended light brown Runner’s suit covered his entire body except for his face. Unlike Jim, Brian, Hal and many other seasoned Runners, he hated running in a ripped uniform. It wasn’t just a question of appearance. Besides avoiding unnecessary expose to sunburn, a well-kept uniform