Chapter II

  ((2022; 33 years ago -

  Scott Gavin waited impatiently for the test results with his brother Matthew Gavin. Matt was older than Scott, 31 years old while Scott was only 26. Both were waiting for the results of the tests, hoping for the best. It had been roughly a month and a half since the first cases popped up. The media called it the Seraphim Virus but not much else beyond that. No one, not even the top experts could give a definitive explanation of how this virus came around. The only thing was that was certain was the rate with which it spread. It wasn't something that was communicable between person to person, but it spread like a wildfire. From what they'd both heard, this virus made cancer seem like the common cold. As they waited for the doctor to arrive, Scott nervously flexed the fingers of his left hand. It was a habit for him, this much Matt knew.

  "You alright, Scott?" Matt finally asked.

  Scott managed to sigh slightly and replied, "Yeah, I'm good. It's just, you know, all the shit that's been going down. It's got me a little on edge."

  "I heard that. The news said there were about 20 or maybe 25 newly confirmed cases in Oakland. Another 18 in El Paso." Matt said if only to keep the conversation going.

  "Fuck, and nobody's any closer to figuring out with this thing came from?" Scott wondered, to which Matt shook his head in the negative.

  The door opened and a man wearing a doctor's coat walked into the office, holding a small stack of papers in hand. He looked about to be in his mid 40's, graying sideburns beneath chestnut brown hair. He had a clean-shaven face he wore a set of glasses. Whether that was to look professional, neither Scott nor Matt could say for sure. This man sat down behind the desk across from the brothers. He studied the paperwork closely, though it wasn't like he was ignoring Scott and Matt. Scott got a look at the doctor's name tag which read, Dr. Jarred Saul, M.D. He didn't have much trust in doctors but things hadn't been going the way either himself or Matt wanted. He sensed it wasn't going to get any better.

  Dropping the paperwork, Dr. Saul looked at Scott and said to him, "Mr. Gavin, I'm not going to sugarcoat it; you have unfortunately testing positive for the Seraphim Virus. I'm sorry."

  Scott actually chuckled at the news, but more out of despair than humor. "Any chance for a second opinion?"

  "C'mon, Scott, get serious here..." Matt said before Scott cut him off by rising from his seat.

  "What, you think I'm not taking this seriously? This is my fucking life we're talking about." Scott angrily said, and he leaned near the windows of the office.

  Deciding that cooler heads had to prevail, Matt asked Dr. Saul, "Can you give us some idea of how long Scott has with this virus?"

  Dr. Saul rubbed his chin for a moment while Scott glared at him, and Matt stayed quiet in waiting. "I'm sure that you're both aware of the rapid incubation rate of this virus; it's roughly 48 hours until complete nervous system shutdown. But with Scott, it's appears to be different."

  "What'd you mean?" Scott asked.

  "You have the virus in your system but it appears to be dormant, meaning there's no time table for when or even if it'll begin its incubation cycle." Dr. Saul explained.

  "In other words, you don't know when I'm going to die from this." Scott concluded.

  "No, but that might be a good thing," Dr. Saul stated, and he stood up to approach Scott directly. "Because of the potentially long incubation period, there's a chance that your particular physiology may develop antibodies to counteract the virus." Dr. Saul said.

  "Any more good news?" Scott sarcastically asked.

  "There's still a chance that the virus could flare up in your system and if that happens, that's it." Dr. Saul said.

  Matt considered Dr. Saul's words before asking, "So what options are there to keep the virus from taken effect?"

  "The only conceivable option at this point in time is cryogenic suspension." Dr. Saul said.

  "How long would I be frozen?" Scott asked.

  Dr Saul steadied himself for the reply. "At least a year, 2 at the most," When Scott and Matt exchanged telling glances with each other, Dr. Saul said. "I'll give you boys some time to discuss it."))

  Present Day

  The front hospital entrance windows were broken for years, so there was nothing stopping Scott from rushing out of the building in terror. He stumbled, fell to his knees and jumped back up and eventually reached the nearest tree he could find. There, he hyperventilated while Capt. Conrad and the rest of his team followed him out. Conrad himself approached while Lt. Johansson and the others stayed back. Scott afforded only a short glance at Conrad before going back into his heavy breathing. Conrad was now close enough to put his hand over Scott's shoulder. It was to let Scott know that he wasn't alone, which was a far cry from what Scott was actually feeling.

  "This is a waste of time," Lt. Johansson whispered under her breath. "Marcus, status on that evac."

  "A transport is on the way as we speak. ETA 11 minutes." Marcus replied.

  "Command's cutting it pretty close, LT. We've got a platoon of Marauders approaching fast from the east." Michelle Chang said.

  Johansson gave them a nod before approaching Conrad. "Captain, we've got enemies incoming and the evac transport is roughly 10 minutes out."

  "Understood. Get the team back inside. We'll catch up but let's give Scott here some time to gather himself." Conrad said.

  "With all due respect, sir, time is a scarce luxury which we don't have." Johansson stated.

  "I'm well aware of that, Johansson. Now get back inside the building and get ready for a visitors to arrive. That's an order." Conrad said.

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  "Yessir." Johansson said while she offered a crisp salute before heading back into the hospital.

  Conrad watched Johansson reenter the building before he turned to Scott. "Scott, we have Marauders coming our way. We've got to get to cover."

  "2 years. I was only supposed to be asleep for 2 years. And, Matt... my brother..." Scott said amid the confusion and despair in his voice.

  "Captain, we've got Marauders inbound." Duncan shouted.

  Conrad could already hear the faint rumbling of an incoming platoon. Without hesitation, he grabbed Scott by the shoulder and dragged him back toward the hospital. Chang stepped up and set down a sort of device that Scott had never seen before. She hit a few switches and a greenish-blue forcefield burst into existence. The platoon of Marauders had arrived, and there were more than the team expected; roughly 20 or so. On Conrad's order, they opened fire on the platoon. Conrad and Johansson took point, taking pinpoint shots at the Marauders and managing to kill several of them in one go. Marcus, Chang and Duncan followed up and took down several more with focused shots. Scott, being the only one without a gun or any training in general, had no choice but keep his head down.

  The first wave of Marauders went down fast and hard, but they allowed for another wave to approach and return fire. The force field took the shots, but the team still took cover all the same. Scott noticed how Chang was checking a holographic image on a gauntlet she wore. On the screen was a percentage gauge that was steadily declining. He quickly realized that the gauge was for the force field. Johansson and Marcus were able to return fire, taking down another pair of Marauders. More of the Marauders were coming, and it seemed like this platoon was larger than anticipated.

  "We need that evac transport, Marcus." Conrad shouted over the shots being fired.

  "It's almost here, Captain. ETA, 7 minutes." Marcus said.

  "I don't think we're going to last that long." Duncan replied.

  "Field strength is down to 54%. They'd better hurry the hell up." Chang said.

  Scott flinched from the shock of a Marauder blast striking dangerously close as he shouted, "What can I do to help?"

  Johansson, the one person who was already Scott's least favorite, shouted, "Just stay down if you want to stay alive."

  "Or you can just kill me now." Scott spat.

  Johansson looked at him and spat back, "Don't push you luck. We're trying to save your ass."

  "So far, you're doing a shitty job, lady." Scott exploded with sarcasm and anger.

  "Knock it off, both of you." Conrad said.

  "This is Transport E58TAB. Can we provide assistance?"

  Transport E58TAB, this is Capt. Terry Conrad. We can most certainly use an assist. We are a team unit of 5 plus 1 civilian, front entrance of hospital. Need covering fire if able."

  "Copy that. We're 30 seconds out."

  "Okay people get ready to move once that transport lands. Duncan and Chang, you take point. Johansson, you and Marcus cover the rear. Scott, you stay close to me. Do not wonder." Conrad said to everyone.

  "Transport E58TAB, inbound."

  An old V-22 Osprey appeared in the air above the hospital and took up position between the team and the encroaching Marauders. The Marauders quickly reacted and fired on the Osprey, and it responded with one of its crew members firing a high-tech mounted machine gun. The gun cut down a number of Marauders while forcing the other to take cover. This was more than enough cover for Conrad's team to make for the Osprey.

  As per Conrad's orders, Duncan and Chang took point and fired on the Marauders that remained. Conrad and Scott were dead center of the group, the latter staying as close to the leader as possible. Johansson and Marcus were the last to follow, taking any shots at any enemies that tried to reach them. The Osprey was already on the ground, but the gunner continued to fire on any Marauders that came too close for comfort.

  Chang was the first to climb aboard with Duncan close behind her. Scott was next on board with Conrad providing an assist. Marcus was in soon after while Johansson provided additional cover. Conrad got aboard the Osprey, but Johansson still hadn't climbed on after him. Scott noticed that Johansson wasn't even trying, as if she was intent on fighting. Then Johansson was hit in the left thigh and dropped to a knee.

  "Johansson!" Marcus shouted.

  "Go! Get out of here." Johansson shouted back, getting right back to fighting.

  "We're not leaving her, are we?" Scott asked, but no one replied.

  Then out of nowhere, Scott jumped from the transport and reached Johansson. "What the hell are you doing?"

  There wasn't time to reply as Scott helped Johansson onto the Osprey. Conrad and Marcus gave them as much cover as possible until the Osprey lifted up into the air. The remaining Marauders fired on the Osprey, striking the hull but doing no significant damage. By that time, the Osprey was airborne and away.

  Safely on the deck as they were, Johansson kicked Scott away while shouting, "Get the fuck off me!"

  Scott hit the deck hard and was only saved by Duncan's timely catch, and he shouted back, "Hey, I was trying to help you."

  Johansson spring up only to buckle from the wound in her leg, and she angrily replied, "I don't need your help."

  Conrad stepped between them and said, "That's enough, both of you."

  Scott and Johansson back away from Conrad and from each other, both going in opposite directions. Scott rejoined then rest of the team, taking a seat beside Pete Marcus. Sam Duncan sat opposite from Chang while Conrad moved up toward the cockpit. Scott found himself gazing over at Johansson as she sat alone on an adjacent seat. She was rubbing her thigh and cursing under her breath, but whatever she was saying escaped Scott entirely.

  At the same time, Johansson glanced over at Scott as he was looking toward her. It must have seemed to him like she was thinking of the most covert way possible of potentially ripping his head off. But that was far from the truth, something Johansson didn't want this civilian to know. She wasn't willing to let anyone outside of her crew know what she was hiding. Johansson wasn't about to apologize for her outburst, so she sat back in her seat and tried to shut her eyes. She winced still from the pain in her thigh, but she toughed it out. The civilian, Scott Gavin, didn't stop looking at her. Johansson was annoyed and furious to the point of wanting to snap at him again, but she kept her composure as the Osprey flew along toward its destination.

  Conrad made it to the cockpit where he found the pilot and copilot sitting side by side. "Who's in charge here?" Conrad asked.

  The lead pilot replied, "I am, sir; Capt. Oliver Daniels. My copilot is Lt. Greta Hummel."

  Lt. Hummel replied, "Welcome aboard, sir."

  "I'm Capt. Terry Conrad, assuming command for the time being. Where're we headed?"

  "We're on route to a forward operations base in Bakersfield." Capt. Daniels replied.

  "Keep us low so as to avoid enemy detection, and see if you can get word out to the base that we need a medical team on standby. Tell them we've got a sole civilian and a wounded soldier."

  "Captain, I'm fine. It's barely even a scratch." Johansson insisted.

  Conrad turned around to face his stubborn Lieutenant and said, "I don't want to hear it, Johansson. You're getting medical treatment for that wound, like it or not."

  "But sir..." Johansson said.

  "That's an order, Lieutenant, and there will be no more discussing it." Conrad said, and Johansson sighed in defeat without another word.

  Scott watched the entire exchange between Conrad and Johansson and he suddenly found himself wondering why he just had to wake up 33 years in the future... and how badly he wanted all this to be a bad dream. Yes, that was it. He was still sleeping, still in cryogenic stasis. The tried-and-true method of knowing for sure that he was still asleep was a simple pinch of the skin. No pain meant he was dreaming, in the throes of some terrible nightmare. Scott reached his left hand over to his right arm and squeeze hard on the skin. He felt a minor sensation of pain across the point where he pinched and his heart sank. He wasn't dreaming. This was all real. Those things that attacked him were real, as were the people that only just rescued him. This whole ordeal was no such dream. As far as Scott was concerned, he was suddenly living a nightmare.

  Yet, Scott was still in denial and muttered to himself, "No! No, no, no, no, this isn't happening. I've got to be dreaming. This is just a very intense dream. It's not real. The pain I just felt wasn't real. Those things that just tried to kill me weren't real."

  Sam Duncan sat next to the still utterly bewildered young man and gave a gentle punch on the arm. "Hate to break it to you, lad, but it's all real."

  Scott wished he didn't hear that and he replied, "33 years?"

  Sam Duncan replied back, "That's right. Welcome to the year 2055."

  Deeply perturbed upon hearing the new year, Scott was left thinking to himself, Fuck me!