Preventing Apotheosis

Welcome to Hatchetfield

He arrived in Clivesdale, checking in on the radio to check if the runway was clear for landing. He hopped out of the jet and opened his comms, "Barb?"

"Curt?"

"Just checking in, I just landed in Clivesdale and I see no signs of that General guy. You sure he knows I'm here?"

"I'm sure he's well aware." Curt turned around at the new voice and was face to face with a man in an all black military uniform. He also wore a black hat with his hair pulled back in a ponytail and his face was locked in an intense stare. Curt leaned into his watch, "Gotta go, I'll check in later."

The man held his hand straight out in front of him, "General John McNamera, special unit P.E.I.P. We call it Peep." Curt took his hand and shook it, "Agent Curt Mega, CIA."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance Curt, though I wish it were under better circumstances. Who knows how many of those poor bastards on that island are infected by now..." he squinted his eyes and took a drag from his cigarette. Why did everyone around him have to smoke? Don't they know how bad it is?

"So uh, you've seen this kind of thing before?" he asked, hoping to finally get some answers. John nodded, "P.E.I.P deals with these kinds of things. After Roswell, the government decided they needed a unit to keep tabs on all things that fall from space and make sure no one knows about it. I've dealt with things from crashed space ships to meteors like this one."

"My boss told me people were singing and dancing because of this, do you know anything about this?" He took another hit and blew out the smoke, "Yes... whatever these aliens are, they've tried to take over our planet before. They're like a hivemind, that's how they can all sing and dance in harmony, but other than world domination we can't figure out what the hell they want."

"Well you said it yourself, didn't you? World domination?"

"If only it were that simple. It's like they want the whole world to be one giant musical..." Curt couldn't help but shudder. Yeah it might not sound bad, but when you imagine everyone on earth being forced to sing and dance against their will, the picture is quite frightening.

"So how do we stop it?" he questioned.

"Once we arrive, we shoot all the infected we find. If we leave even one they can and will find their way to the mainland, and it'll only spread from there, so it is of utmost importance that we keep this contained, which is why the bridge is closed. No one is allowed in, or out as of right now. Except for us of course, we're the damn military," he offered a smile. Curt didn't expect for it to be so genuine, and he definitely wasn't counting on the way it made his heart flutter a bit faster. "We'll check for any civilians that are alive and uninfected and make our way back. We'll come back in about a month to make sure none we didn't miss anyone and by then, it's usually safe enough to remove the meteor and the dead bodies."

"Is it possible to remove the meteor now? I mean, if that's what's causing all of this, wouldn't it be best if we-"

"Are you insane? We can't get that close to it unless you want to join them, and I'd rather shoot you dead where you stand than have you turn into one of them." Curt didn't know what to say... Looks like getting samples from the meteor was out of the question. "Whatever it is can spread through the air the closer you are to the source... usually one of the aliens have to kill and infect you, but if you waltz up to that giant rock you'll come back singing, no doubt about it. I saw it happen..." General McNamera trailed off, and Curt understood all too well that look in his eye. It was a look he had seen in the mirror many times; it was the look of unmistakable guilt that could only come from letting your partner die. He didn't push for details and waited for him to recover because it's what he would want if their positions were reversed.

"We go and make a clean sweep. No survivors, we can't risk word of this getting out to the public."

Curt cleared his throat before he spoke, not trusting his voice, "I'm supposed to grab some samples so..." he trailed off. John rolled his eyes and took the cigarette out of his mouth, using it to gesture with, "Fine, you can grab some DNA from the ones we kill, but make sure not to touch it." Curt nodded, "Way ahead of you," he said pulling out the pen Barb gave him and clicked it three times. a mechanical pincher extended from the pen, opening and closing on demand. McNamera leaned back, eyes wide as he examined the tool.

"Cool. Just keep your weird spy do hickeys to yourself unless I ask." Curt obliged and put the pen in the front pocket of his suit. "Alright then. I'll go grab the rest of the unit and we can head over there." The General lead him to where the others were, and an officer walked up to them with a sour look on his face.

"General McNamera."

"Yes Private?"

"The boat isn't starting."

He let out a noise that was a mixture of a sigh and a grunt and rubbed his temple. "May I ask why the hell not?"

"It seems like a piece of the meteor from last night broke off and struck the engine before it sank beneath the water." Curt perked up, perhaps he could get a meteor sample after all.

"Where is the boat?" The soldier pointed off towards the water, "Right off the edge of that dock sir."

"Thank you." He was about to walk off in that direction but a strong hand gripped his arm and pulled him back.

"Just where the hell do you think you're going?"

"I'm just gonna check the damage and see if there's any pieces left from the meteor fragment. The more data I can collect the better." General McNamera's grip didn't falter however, and Curt jerked his arm from his grasp before walking down the pier. He heard footsteps behind him before they fell in time with his own and John was at his side once more.

"I might as well go with you and see how fucked up she is," he said referring to the boat. The soldier sure was right about the engine being damaged. A dent large enough for Curt to crawl in left the boat inoperable and the metal was bent and torn away revealing the innerworkings that still sparked and sizzled. Curt noticed a small rock at the bottom of the boat and pulled out his pen and a collection tube, picking it up and looking it over. It was about the size of his palm and had small pores scattered all throughout. It was a deep chocolate brown color but when held in the light had a metallic blue hue to it. He sealed it away and put it in his bag before turning towards a less than amused General.

"It's just a tiny sample, it won't hurt anything Mac," he said, patting his shoulder. He shrugged his hand off and scrunched up his nose at the nickname.

"Just be careful. Well, we clearly can't take the boat anymore, so it looks like we'll have to take the chopper. We won't be able to take as many soldiers now, but I suppose if we need to we can always make two trips."

"Or take two helicopters," Curt suggested. John flashed him another smile, "I like the way you think."

The ride to Hatchetfield was mostly quiet, as it was too hard to talk over the sound of the whirring blades and it put unnecessary strain on their voices. Before they landed, everything seemed normal, but once they touched down, it all changed. It was like a ghost town: the roads and buildings were all deserted and empty. He noticed a few broken windows and smears of blue on the ground and walls of some of the shops. In the distance, heavenly voices sang an ominous tune, and it seemed to come from all directions. The helicopter whirred to life once more, leaving them to carry out their tasks. Oh God, what had they gone into?