MONSTER GENOCIDE: This is Only a Trap (part 2)

Fallser Fiction by A. Bradley Green  In a time far from now, humanity has lost dominance of earth and is no longer on top of the food chain. Yet capitalism hasn’t faltered. Heroes for hire come at a price when your surviving in the Nil Zones. Follow Team Cross as they uncover the mysteries beyond the ruins of this dystopian earth in Monster Genocide, a five-part serialized story for EastFallsLocal.com. READ PART ONE HERE. 

This is Only a Trap (Part Two)

Night
Nil Zone 12
Sector 7
Ancient Factory City, Earth

To whomever this may concern,
This is nothing personal. You just happen to be the lucky ones this time. Based on where your vehicle was disabled you should be in either of two places…

“You think whoever wrote this broke the truck?” Norm stopped reading the note left in the bogus package to ask.

“Keep going, Norm,” said Trish, annoyed.

You’re either in the security house by the barrier breach, or the factory city near west gate, sector 6. Skip instructions for the other.

“Do you want me to read them both anyway,” Norm to his irritated companions.

“No Norm! Read the ones for factory city!” yelled Scott, frustrated. He kept cutting his eyes over to the doorway, watching the demon dogs through the dull blue glow of the shield, dark saliva dripping from their panting maws. Trish was pacing the floor, biting her fingernails.

“Keep reading, Norm.” Norm looked down at the note again.

If you ended up in the factory city no doubt you’re surrounded by demon dogs.
Inside the sack you’ll find a gun along with a signal booster to cut through area interference so you can call for help.

If you try anything stupid, the signal booster will self destruct and you’ll seal your own demise.
Call the number on the business card for help. No-one else. Good luck.

Trish stopped pacing and snatched the note rudely from Norm to read to herself.

“Not even signed! This was a trap from the beginning! Who assigned us this mission?”

“It was on the live wire this morning,” Norm answered.

“Under urgent requests. Payed out 1500 credmarks. Didn’t seem very odd besides them paying up front through credstar, which doesn’t happen very often.”

Norm held up the small business card. “Team Cross janitorial and monster removal services? Have either of you heard of them?”

“Maybe,” said Scott. I think I remember a Team Cross protecting a transport last year when people started moving to sector 7.”

“We don’t seem to have a choice, and the barrier cube isn’t gonna last much longer,” said Trish. She took the card and attached the signal booster to her avatar. The screen lit up and they anxiously waited a full minute for the signal bar to build up before typing in the call numbers for Team Cross.

Scott stood by the barrier cube watching the time tick down. Less then thirty minutes remained before they become a gross human buffet.

About 5 miles from where Trish, Scott and Norm were trapped, resided one of the oldest sections of habitable ruins in Nil Zone 12, still intact dating back to the 20th century. What used to be a small city in a place once known as Jersey, an old fortified movie theater sat surrounded by a parking lot the earth was at war with. Tall grass cracked through what remained of the centuries old pavement.

In the front of the theater, two ticket booths now served as armored turrets for two fully automatic rail guns. The glass door entry to the concession lobby was walled off complete with coiled razor wire and spiked iron rods to finish that uninviting look.

On the ancient white Marquis where movie titles were once displayed, were the words “Team Cross,” in black letters. Inside the lobby was a large common room with scrap metal parts junked in a semi organized fashion with one side sectioned off as a clean seating area with an orange horse shoe shaped sofa and large polished tree truck table.

The sound of a classic telephone ring was echoing throughout the converted lobby space. The ringing came from a small wooden, arc shaped box styled after a table top radio from the early 20th century, sitting on a side table by the sofa. A point of light the size of a tiny insect darted into the room and phased through the wooden frame of the classic radio box. A jovial almost game show host voice came out of the front facing speakers.

“Hello, this is Team Cross janitorial and monster removal services. My name is Zamm. How can we, help you?”

“Hi, my name is Trish and my team and I are trapped in the old factory city by demon dogs. We only have half an hour before the barrier cube we brought dies and they all come rushing in here to eat us! You gotta come get us!”

“Now that sounds scary. I’m sure we can help you. How many are in your team?”

“Just 3 of us.”

“That’s great. And you say you’re in the old factory city… GPS has you at the complex nearest to the west gate?

“Yes!”

“No problem! We know exactly where that is. That’ll be 500 credmarks each for a total of 1500 credmarks. We accept payment through credstar.”

“1500 credmarks?” Trish looked at Norm and Scott.

“No way! That’s insane! That’s what we just got paid! This is bullshit! Who are you guys, anyway? Are you behind this? We thought we were taking meds to sector 6 instead we find your business card, a note and a signal booster inside the package we’re carrying forcing us to call you! No one else but you.”

“That’s very odd. We will have to investigate that. After you’re all eaten of course,” said Zamm, flippantly in that game show host voice of his.

“What!” Yelled Trish. “You’re not coming out here?”

“We would love to, but you stated, “No way! That’s insane, and by your estimations your barrier cube has 20 minutes left. We’re there in 15 if we leave now. Otherwise your fragile human flesh will be sliding down the gullets of some hungry demon dogs very shortly. Bye bye now.”

“Wait, wait! You have to come out here and save us now!

“Credstar ID?”

“Trishshaw2352.”

“Got it! We’re on our way!

“Hurry! We’re running out of time!”

Trish, Scott and Norm all look over as the demon dogs stand ready to feast, staring up at their soon to be meals through the dull blue glow of the weakening barrier shield.

Holy credit crunch! Has the team maxed out their luck or will there be a bailout? Tune in next month for another edition of Monster Genocide in The Local. (Read Part One here!

Al has been a lover of all things sci-fi/fantasy and classic radio serials, like The Shadow and Flash Gordon. He is a video media producer in the tri-state area by trade, and is currently pursuing his passion as a fiction writer. He lives in East Falls, near the Laurel Hill Cemetery.

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