The monsters within, p.1
The Monsters Within, page 1
The Monsters Within
S. J. Serio
Infinite Worlds
Copyright © 2023 Salvatore J. Serio (S.J. Serio)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact [include publisher/author contact info].
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Edition May, 2023
Edited by Kerry Stapley and Chelsea Cambeis (Blue Pen – http://www.bluepenbooks.com)
Cover Design created by rebeccacovers
Maps created by BMR Williams
ISBN 979-8-9879112-0-4 (Hardback Edition)
ISBN 979-8-9879112-1-1 (eBook Edition)
Library of Congress Control Number 2023904977
Published by Infinite Worlds, LLC
Publisher Website https://www.infiniteworldspub.com
Author Website https://sjserio.com
Dedicated to Savannah, Sophia, and Lexy.
Thank you for your patience with me.
Contents
Preface
Map
Prologue
1. At the Office
2. Jenna-Bear
3. Interrogation
4. Celebration
5. Encounters
6. Hope and Sorrow
7. Evening at Home
8. Questions
9. Containment
10. Voices of Children
11. The UGC and Me
12. The Maze
13. Blood on the Floor
14. Extra Rations
15. The Facility
16. The Black Door
17. Horrors Unleashed
18. The Undercity
19. The Cleaners
20. Memories and Meetings
21. Welcomed News
22. The Testing
23. The Railbus
24. The Wildlands
25. A Reprieve
26. Carnage
27. The Final Run
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About Author
Preface
Late January was the beginning of the 2019 spring semester at Towson University. It was my fourth semester there (not counting the summer sessions I had taken). While my major was Social Sciences, the class I was most excited about was Writing Fiction. I had longed to be a writer. You may ask why I didn’t major in English or Creative Writing. Well, I love fantasy and science fiction and I considered social sciences would play a big part in worldbuilding. Plus, I figured it would be a good backup program should my writing career failed. The class was interesting from the start. We did our introductions, and the Professor led us to generate a list of genres on the board. He also passed around a sign-up list. The list was for the dates when our first assignment would be due (with the class assessing and critiquing it on the next day). By the time the list made it around to me, the only dates left were the first slots. Those were only two weeks away.
In our first hour together, the professor asked us a couple of polling questions (the nature of which; I forget). For each question, he tallied the hands raised, then counted down the list of genres. The assignment was then settled. We had to write a short story in the genre of “Utopian (/dystopian) Horror.”
So it was that I had two weeks to write this story in a genre I had never really explored. Fortunately, my mind was turning right away. I jotted down some notes. When I got home, I began expanding those notes and building the world that I would set my story in. It wasn’t long before I had an outline and began writing the story.
On the day of my critique, I was nervous and excited. I had little time to develop this story, but I felt I did a good job, considering. But now was time for my work, “The Monsters Within,” to be judged by not only the professor, but my peers as well. Being a creative work, this was more important to me than any term paper I had written.
Fortunately, the critique went well. There were some excellent suggestions for improvement. However, the best compliment I received was from the professor (and echoed by some of my classmates) on how much world building I could accomplish in so little time. This was the encouragement I needed.
I submitted two more stories to the class during the semester, one a “Fantasy Mystery” and the other a “Comedy Western.” For my final project, I chose my Utopian Horror to submit as a rewrite (from the critique). I really enjoyed that class.
Sadly, that was my last semester in college. My funding (in the form of the Montgomery GI Bill) ran out, and that spring saw me dealing with the death of somebody close to me. I spent the summer trying to find a job. My daughter was turning four, and I needed something. At the same time, a bug hit me. I published a short story that I had written previously on Kindle and reexamined “The Monsters Within.”
I expanded the outline to novella length and began working on a few chapters. Then… I got a job. I shelved the project as I had little time available to write. My priority was providing for my family. Fast forward a few months into the next year and, well, we all know what happened then.
The Great Pandemic of 2020 really gave me pause. The whole catalyst for my story was that a plague caused great upheaval in the world and led to society being how it was. I began to question whether I should go further with it. Also, by this time, I was working at a hospital, so I didn’t really have the free time that many others had, so my writing was on pause. In the end, I decided to go ahead and finish what I had. The outline was already done and much of the book was already written. In the summer of 2021, I decided to return to the book. I looked at what I had and decided that the best thing to do was to begin writing it over. I used what I had already written as a guide, changing where I saw it was needed, filling in where I had to and by the end of August, my first draft manuscript was complete. I placed it in beta read status, invited some readers (both familiar and strangers) and life happened again.
In October, my second daughter was born. I DID complete some revisions from the beta readers in the process. But between my daughter’s birth, plus the holidays, very little progress was made. After the new year, I began to pick back up again, making plans for the final stages of my book’s development. And here we are!
But what of the short story included with the novella. What does that have to do with the main story. Well, nothing!
That story, “The Witness,” was a short story that I wrote over a decade ago and posted on a website (that is now defunct). The origin of THAT story is quite interesting itself. At the time, I lived on the top floor of a three-floor apartment building. Occasionally, I would step out onto the balcony for some “fresh air” (a cigarette to the uninitiated). While I stood up there, I would observe the world around me. Often, I would see squirrels hopping around, going about their business.
This would intrigue me. I wondered what they thought of things around them. What they thought of the humans that walked about. I watched them interact with each other, giving chase if one got too close. That is when I sat down at my computer and, within a matter of two to three hours, I finished the story.
The story centered around a squirrel who witnessed a horrible event. I think another inspiration for this story was The Wheel of Time, when the wolf hopper would make an appearance. Because the squirrel was not anthropomorphic, it was a “study” in viewing the world from the mind of an animal. I tried to imagine what the squirrel would think and how it would react to what was unfolding before it.
I posted it to the website dedicated to writing. A few people read it and left feedback, but not much. They did find the concept interesting. Some even said they would never look at squirrels the same way again. Sometime later, I removed the story from the website and tried submitting it to a publisher to be included in an anthology. It was rejected and sat on my hard drive for a long time. I wanted to get it back out there.
And that is how these two stories came to be. I hope that they bring you as much joy and thought as they have done me in writing them.
Prologue
2163.05.14 | 23:40
Jordan stared at the ceiling. The shadows projected by the scant moonlight penetrating the boarded windows told him that it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours since he went to sleep. He could hear the excited shouts coming from the other occupants of the long-abandoned manor house. Any minute now, Chris Edwards would be by to wake him up and get him moving. This was going to be a long night.
It had already been a minute or two since he woke up. What stirred him was the sound of a transport passing over the manor. A TC-10 by the sound of it. He heard the unmistakable sound of the engine as it passed just outside the partially boarded window. He sat up as he heard the inevitable footsteps approaching his door. Raising his hand to his head, he shook the tiredness away and motivated himself to grab his gear and get ready. Just as he pulled his pants up, the door crashed open as Chris Edwards peeked in. The light from the room beyond obscured his features, but Jordan knew it was him from his silhouette. Edwards took one look at him and nodded. “Good, you’re already awake.”
Jordan pulled his shirt on. “Of course, I am! How could anybody sleep with all tha t noise downstairs?”
Edwards shook his head. “They’re up to something. Another transport just flew by. It landed not far from here.”
“And Kevin wants me to check it out.” He continued putting on his gear, which fit him comfortably. Many operatives wore something similar. The aramid fabrics allowed some protection while maintaining maneuverability. “Tell him I’ll be right down.”
After Edwards left, Jordan checked his utility belt to make sure he had all his essentials. Then he checked his magna pistol. He preferred the old-fashioned gunpowder-based guns, but these newer weapons often proved a blessing. Their only drawback was that the shots charged. The longer they charged, the more effective they were. But their accuracy was unmatched by the old conventional weapons. When he was satisfied, he buckled the pistol on and walked out the door.
He had to shield his eyes as he entered the hallway. His eyes had not yet adjusted. Normally, the lights would be off to preserve energy and minimize the risk of being discovered. Not that the latter was a big risk. The United Global Coalition rarely came out into the Wildlands. Still, it was better to be safe.
Jordan walked down the stairs. When he reached the main room of the old manor house, Edwards was waiting by the foyer entrance, ready to go. Kevin stood by a table, looking over a map. The only light in the room shone down on it. Though he was close in height to Jordan, the others constantly hazed Kevin about his short stature. His light brown hair, which normally draped to his shoulders, was now tied back in a ponytail. The light cast eerie shadows on Kevin that made his already bronze skin appear darker. Almost as dark as Jordan.
A couple of operatives, a man and a woman whose names he had not quite learned yet, were also in the room. The woman, her sandy blonde hair also in a ponytail, had just entered carrying some papers and books that she put on the table before heading back out. The man was by a window, peering through the boards at the darkness. Jordan approached the table and looked at the map. It was from a time before the great urban migration, when there was still life here, and detailed the area surrounding the manor house. “What do we have?”
Kevin, who was deeply focused on the map, didn’t even flinch at Jordan’s voice. Still looking at the map, he responded, “Judging the direction of the craft and its speed, this is the likely location.” He placed his finger on the map, indicating a clearing about two kilometers from the manor. Jordan studied the area for a moment. He knew it well. He thought about where he could get the best vantage point for observation on any activities in that clearing.
“All right, then! Let’s get this done.” He started toward Edwards, but Kevin grabbed his arm as he passed.
Kevin was looking at him intently now. “Be extra careful. There have been strange reports.”
“Reports of what?”
“It is uncertain. Nobody has gotten close enough to determine what is going on at those sites, but after the landings, strange screams have been heard in the wilderness, and animals have been found mutilated. Whatever is going on…” He left the thought hanging.
Finally, he released his grip on Jordan’s arm. Jordan assured him with a nod and moved on to Edwards. “Let’s go!” he said as he walked through the door.
The two men went from the house and down to the road in front. Jordan stopped and looked around, his eyes adjusting to the night. He got his bearings and started in the direction of the clearing.
They hadn’t gotten too far when Edwards broke the silence of their march. “This is the third one in the past twenty-four hours. I’ve heard the UGCs have been making these trips for the past week now. The first one was up near old York.”
Jordan considered that. He had heard the same. They appeared to be dropping something off. Very little details had made it around besides that. Most of the points had been too far to investigate. Whatever the UGC was up to, it wasn’t good.
Edwards was still talking, though Jordan had missed most of what he said. It seemed like he had shifted to the topic of their outpost at the manor house. He was going on about the woman and how “fine” she looked and how he couldn’t wait to get to know her better. That was Edwards. He was slick as oil and loved a good time. But he knew how to get the job done. The two of them had just reported to the manor the prior day. They started working together three years ago when Jordan arrived at the principal base in the Appalachians to the west, near Winchester. Jordan was the scout. He was good at learning terrain and could quickly assess any situation.
Back at the base, people lightheartedly teased Edwards, saying that he should have been the scout, given his heritage. Before the Great Plague, Edwards’s family lived on a reservation out west. After the Plague, they escaped to Kansas City Metro and lived up to the standards of the UGC until his father was exiled into the Wildlands. Chris may not have made a good scout, but he was otherwise a good jack-of-all-trades. He had a ton of useful talents, not least of which was his ability to drive or pilot any vehicle. He was a good backup to have. Chris Edwards had pulled Jordan’s hair out of the fire a few times when things got too heated.
Most of their operations took them around Capital Metro, but some were as far north as New York Metro. They had become well known in the outsider settlements, communities of people exiled from the UGC, some as far back as the Great Plague. York was one of those communities.
Jordan noted that Edwards had stopped talking. They were nearing the clearing. Jordan stopped to get the lay of the land. Much of this region had been farmland before the pandemic and subsequent migration to the cities. With the absence of people, it didn’t take long for the area to fill in as the wilderness took over. Jordan knew this place; he was raised here. Lights sparkled through the trees and foliage bordering the clearing.
He turned to Edwards. “Stay here!”
Edwards acknowledged with a nod and found a place to shelter behind some bushes.
Jordan approached the clearing and sought out the tallest, sturdiest tree. He pulled a cord from his belt. It had a weighted end, which he cast up to a decent-sized branch about midway up the tree. Using the cord, he quickly climbed the tree to the branch and perched there, looking out over the clearing. He could see several UGC officials moving about. They had unloaded ten large crates. Jordan accessed another pouch on his belt and retrieved a set of digital binoculars. He held them up for a better view, then pressed a button to begin recording. He saw that there were several guards with charge-guns patrolling around the crates. Two more were on top of the crates, attaching lines to pins. Grated holes in the crates indicated there must have been something living in those crates…something wild. When they were done, the guards on top gave a signal, and they all headed back into the transport craft.
In a matter of seconds, the craft began to lift off. The tether lines attached to the pins began to tighten up as the craft moved. Nearly in unison, the lines pulled the pins out of the crates. From the jerking of the pins being removed, the planks where the pins were attached fell over, leaving the crates wide open. The lines rapidly retracted to the craft as it left the site. With the craft gone, Jordan’s binoculars switched to night vision mode. There was a slight delay as they adjusted.
Two of the crates were open at the ends facing Jordan. He was shocked by the contents. A single person occupied each crate. Why were they separated? he wondered. He zoomed in for a better look. The people seemed hesitant to leave their crates. Of the two that Jordan could see, one was a woman, the other a man. They were naked. He noticed movement from the other crates. Some of the people cautiously emerged. He could see a range of people, from older to young, perhaps as young as teenagers. There was something odd about them—the way they moved, the way they looked. Jordan felt unnerved.
Their heads jerked oddly as something caught their attention near the edge of the clearing. Jordan scanned in the direction of the disturbance. A deer slowly entered from the thicket. Its caution gave way to curiosity at the newcomers. He observed the people and noticed something strange. They were tensing their bodies as a predator tensed before striking its prey. Suddenly, movement erupted from the clearing, almost too fast for Jordan to keep up. The people pounced on the deer.
