My War of the Worlds Sequel- WoTW: Aftermath.

[wotwfan48]

Whow I wanted more, as probably everybody, and there was two more texts today. Great work, it is very good, action, surprise, what a surprise , well done Nerfy. Chantale. ;D

[EvilNerfherder]

Glad you are all enjoying this little story of mine!
More revelations on board the Martian Base this time.
This chapter, like several as we discover more about the Martian's dastardly deeds, is not really for the squeamish. You have been warned!


THE WAR OF THE WORLDS: AFTERMATH.


43. A Fitting End?



I tried, as we headed on through the Martian base, to forget the horrible sight that had greeted us in the remote walker room. I could not think of anything more terrible than to end up as a disembodied earthly brain imprisoned within an unearthly machine, forced, by some unknown means, to destroy any man that came upon it man on sight. I did not want to contemplate the thought that these human brains knew full well what they were doing, and were tormented by it, utterly compelled to carry out their evil orders regardless of their human emotions. Better to imagine, perhaps, that all humanity left the mind at the removal of the brain making the organic matter within the walkers nothing more than a form of complicated calculating machine. Either way, there was no time to dwell on this in our current predicament, but the idea of this awful thing happening to me haunted my dreams for years afterwards.

Through more corridors we ran at a steady trot. The exertion was beginning to tell on me and, after a strange, inadequate diet and lack of proper sleep, my breath came in short gasps, I perspired as if standing in the hot summer sun in a winter coat and the muscles in my legs ached and complained with the stress forced upon them.
‘Come on, mate,’ the Sergeant quietly, said keeping pace beside me. ‘We will be out of here soon. Keep it up!’
I noticed that he showed barely more signs of fatigue than if he was engaged in a leisurely stroll through the park.
‘Get down!’ shouted Churchill suddenly and we, to a man, scattered and fell to the floor with military speed. Guns were raised and fired by those that had them as a troop of Martians skipped lightly toward us down the corridor, dodging left and right with dizzying speed and firing their own weapons.
The beam from a weapon narrowly missed my head and I thrust my terrified face to the floor as a man behind me was splashed over an area twice his size. Some Martians fell twitching but another man near me died with a scream that chilled me to the bone. I looked up in time to see a Martian turning and casting its saucer eyes in my direction. I frantically groped behind me and my hand grasped the barrel of a weapon as the Martian raised it’s own. Just when I thought it was too late and I was to join the unfortunate dead, the Martian squeaked as a shot from Glenn’s weapon severed most of it’s tentacles. The creature fell to the floor with a wet thump and I saw its eyes widen and heard it squeak again as it was instantly set upon by some of those who were without a weapon. Desperation can make even unarmed humans dangerous and the Martian’s pitiful mewlings soon ended.
There were now two Martians left. One was despatched with a deadly accurate shot from Churchill, the other skittered away crazily, weaving left and right with deadly beams following in its wake, and hooting excitedly. A black mark appeared on the wall an inch above its head as it rounded a corner in the corridor and was gone.
The Sergeant breathed an oath. ‘I think we’ll have company soon, boys. We must pick up the pace!’ The desperate search for an exit continued.

More rooms were quickly searched. One was a feeding room, not unlike the room we had seen in the Cylinder on Horsell Common. Instead of Martian biped bodies lying discarded haphazardly and unceremoniously here, there were pale human figures lying motionless and drained of all life fluid.
As in the cylinder, the smell of corruption in this room made the bile rise in the throat. One or two men crossed themselves and muttered a short prayer for these poor lost souls and we quickly moved on.
The next room bore more than a cursory inspection.
In the centre of this large room was a long metal table like that we had seen in the remote walker assembly room. Machines that had flashing green lights and beeped and whirred surrounded the table at one end. From the machines, a complicated array of tubes exuded, they twisted and turned this way and that until they terminated in the thing that lay on the gleaming surface of the table. Some of the tubes contained a green fluid that seemed to be being pumped into the man that lay there.
Cavendish.
The knight lay unmoving and appeared to be devoid of life. Tubes pierced his throat, his arms and several ended in the flesh of his bare legs.
The normal ruddy colour in his puffy cheeks had been replaced by a pale yellow hue. His heavily lidded eyes were firmly shut and his mouth hung open.
Cavendish was completely naked and his arms lay motionless at his side. The reason for his apparent death was brought to my horrified eyes as I saw his chest.
The flesh there had been cut cleanly and peeled back and was held open by large clamps. His ribcage had been broken open and his innards had been, it seemed, pulled out as an untidy pile of glistening red offal had been placed in a metal dish that stood on a small table to one side.
I remembered the talk in the papers of the devastation that had been committed on the prostitute Mary Kelly’s body by he whom the press had named ‘Jack the Ripper’ fifteen or so years before, and this, sprang instantly to mind as my eyes took in this sight. But this was no senseless slaughter or some unfathomable blood lust. This was science at its most diabolical and inhuman. I had no doubt, though, that our own scientists had committed the same indignities to the corpses of Martians we had found in our laboratories after the war. Cavendish had probably overseen such butchery and was likely getting a bitter, posthumous taste of his own medicine.
Still, although my feelings on the subject of Cavendish had run hot of late, I thought that this was no way for any man to die, no matter what his crimes against common decency and humanity may be. I remembered suddenly that I had seen this type of procedure before. When the Martian in the Kensington base had touched my mind.
I moved closer to Cavendish’s tortured corpse.
‘Poor deluded man,’ I muttered. ‘I hope the end was quick for you.’
One of the men behind me snorted at this but Churchill snapped at him to be quiet.
I lightly touched Cavendish’s arm and opened my mouth to say a final farewell. His flesh felt cool and doughy.
I was about to speak when his eyes flew wide open and his mouth opened wider to let out a terrified gurgling scream.

[wotwfan48]

Ya you dit it i was sure he was still alive, and he was, whow, I am anxious to see more. Bravo. I like it very much. GOOD WORK.
Chantale.

[Commandingtripod]

Oh scary.

Wonder what happened to him (Expect for the obivous thing that he got sliced up ).
Can't wait for more! ;D

[richardburton]

Great stuff, Nerfmeister! The Martians meet Reanimator!

[Poyks]

Good scary stuff!! Nice historical references too. Fantastic!

[EvilNerfherder]

THE WAR OF THE WORLDS: AFTERMATH.


44. Knight of The Living Dead.



The scream that came from Cavendish’s pain-wracked face tailed off into a strangled gasp and then he finally lapsed into quick, shallow panting. He struck me as alike a man drowning, every attempt at drawing air into the ghosts of his excised lungs causing him unimaginable pain and his eyes watered unceasingly as he stared wildly around him as if in search of some sort of redemption. Somehow, with all of his vital organs missing from his mutilated body, Cavendish was alive!
The group of men behind me stood shocked, and I turned to see horror on every face. No one appeared to know what to do and I doubted that anyone would find himself able to step forward to assist if they did.
Cavendish’s pale arm shot up and grasped mine with a steel grip. I became strangely fascinated by the visible progress of the green fluid that was being pumped through the tubes into this poor man’s body.
Was this fluid keeping Cavendish alive? Was it some sort of embalming fluid that gave life where there should be none? Did the Martians wish to wake the dead for some diabolic purpose?
Cavendish’s head turning toward me prodded me from my reverie. The watering, bloodshot eyes locked onto mine and I again fancied that I felt for myself the excruciating pain this man must be enduring.
The mouth opened and a hiss emitted from it sounding, at first, like the rustle of leaves on a tree in a brisk breeze, but somehow I had the distinct impression that Cavendish was trying to speak. Stooping, whilst fighting the urge to turn and run from this horrible thing before me, I placed my ear closer to the knight’s mouth and tried to listen. The man’s breath was heavily tainted with the sour odour of the grave.
‘Ssssmiiiittthhh,’ I could now hear.
‘What is it, Cavendish?’ I asked, as I could think of little else to say.
‘You. Musssst. Lisssten,’ he replied with what seemed like an almost superhuman effort. Between every word he took an instinctive attempt at a breath. How he could even attempt to speak, I do not know and yet speak he did.
‘Tell me. I’m listening’ I assured him.
His mouth was obviously dry but we had no water to give him and so we could only look on as he licked his cracked lips in an attempt to moisten them.
‘I did not mean for things to end this way,’ he finally managed. ‘I was assigned to negotiate a peace for the empire. I had orders.’
‘Orders? From whom?’ I asked as gently as I could.
‘The Prime Minister. He knew we would likely be destroyed if there were another attack from Mars and it was decided by the cabinet that we should try to ensure our survival in such an event.’ He stopped for a moment as the effort of speech obviously tired him greatly.
‘I did not agree with what I had to do, but I am a patriot and unashamed to admit it,’ he finally continued. ‘I love my country and I would do anything to protect her, no matter how the methods I need to adopt may appal me. The old queen once told me-‘
The knight turned his face upwards and beatific smile touched his face for a moment as if some happy memory now occupied all of his thoughts.
‘Cavendish, we will get you out of here,’ I decided. I motioned for some men to come and help me, although I had not the slightest idea what to do.
‘No!’ Cavendish turned toward me again, the smile dropping like a discarded mask. ‘ I cannot leave here now. Detach me from the machines and I will die as surely and as quickly as if you had thrust a dagger through my heart. I am finished. You must escape this place and warn the government. The Martians intend to use this new base for another attack on London and they will build more. This cannot be allowed to happen.’
‘But what of your orders?’ I said.
‘There cannot be any accord with these monsters. We are as cattle to them and they do not need our help to conquer our fellow man. How they have left me should be warning enough to anyone who tries to ally themselves alongside them. The world must prepare for their coming, for come again they will!’
‘We will warn the world, Cavendish,’ I vowed.
‘Good man,’ he said with great difficulty. His chest shook and he gritted his teeth as a wave of pain thundered through him. ‘Now you must end my torment. Please.’
With grim determination, I grasped the tube in his arm.
‘Farewell, Cavendish,’ I said in as steady a voice as I could manage.
I held his hand and he gripped it with surprising strength. He gave a small nod and fixed his eyes on mine.
I pulled the tube and green fluid spattered out onto the floor.
I grabbed at other tubes and pulled them. More fluid pumped out and lay in glistening pools on the table.
Cavendish’s grip on my hand relaxed but his eyes remained locked on mine. It took me a few moments to realise that he had stopped panting and his ordeal was now over. I gently closed his eyelids and turned away.

[Commandingtripod]

Interesting.

So ends the knight.
Keep it coming Nerfy. ;D

[Anim8tr]

I read this chapter twice in a row. Really, really good!

Talk about a Pandora's Box. What a conspiracy!

Bloody, riveting, good stuff!

[richardburton]

Absolutely fantastic, mate! Well done! Can't wait for the next one.

[wotwfan48]

I can anderstand why you read it 2 times, Anim8tr. This was a really good one. Great story. War of the world is not over. lols
Tks for that Nerphy. Chantale. all at the same time.

[Luperis]

Fantastic! The last two chapters are amazing - a perfect mix of horror and suspense.
Keep it coming - I can't wait to see what happens next!

[jeffuk13]

I sometimes think I'm sad as I look forward to reading the next chapter, at the moment the highlight of my week keep it up ;D

[EvilNerfherder]

THE WAR OF THE WORLDS: AFTERMATH.


45. At the Heart of the Base.



Cavendish’s horrifying ordeal and merciful demise, at my hand, had had a sobering impact on the men. Much as some, including myself let us not forget, had hated him for betraying us, it was too easy to imagine oneself in that awful state; neither living nor dead, aware of every terrible atrocity that had been visited on your person and knowing, finally and with absolute certainty, that there was no way back to life as you had known it before. I would, as would any sane man I am sure, much rather suffer a burning, but infinitely quicker, death from a Heatray than endure this monstrous experimentation. I resolved that I would make my capture impossible, should the time come, and force the Martians to slay me instantly rather than have the facility to use me for any of their diabolical science.

A few careful but firm words from Churchill roused us all enough from our morbid thoughts to spur us on with our search for an escape route from this charnel house of a place we were trapped within. Weapons were readied once more and we left Cavendish to his final rest.
The corridor was quiet and empty and we made along it quickly but with great care, I trotted along near the front behind Glenn and Jameson, the Sergeant paced me and drove me on. Being the only non military man present, and therefore not as fit and robust as the others, I felt a little ashamed that I was perhaps slowing the pace, but if this was the case, none of the other men made any mention of it. In fact I felt fully supported by them and, in the way that I was accepted by them, perhaps even as much of a soldier as they.
Our unit, then, trotted along these gleaming, glowing corridors, one after another.
We saw no Martians for a while, until one unwisely peered out of a door, only to be knocked back squealing by a blast from Churchill’s beam rifle.
In the room that the unfortunate Martian had died within, we found many more weapons and were surprised that it was not better guarded such as a similar human armoury would be. To Glenn’s obvious delight, we also found his pack that still contained the explosive that was to have been used to incapacitate the Cylinder. He checked through its contents carefully.
‘We can make some pretty fireworks with this, eh Sergeant?’ he said satisfied, holding up his prize and grinning.
‘Indeed we can, mate!’ the Sergeant agreed. ‘God willing, before this day is out, we shall put on a display that they will see and hear in the colonies.’ He turned to the rest of the group. ‘Everyone without a weapon can grab one now, I think. Help yourselves, boys!’
Now a force to be reckoned with, every man armed to the teeth and ready for action, we continued onwards.

As the corridor we followed turned sharply to the right, we found ourselves facing a large silver coloured door.
We made ourselves ready with weapons pointing toward the room beyond and the switch next to the door was pushed. The portal slid aside with a soft hiss.
A sharp squeal and an excited hoot in return alerted us to the presence of a number of our foe within this room and the air crackled with the discharge of weapons as a short battle ensued.
One of our sailors fell decapitated before he had a chance to even cry out but we fought on with grim determination. The five Martians were hopelessly outnumbered and four fell instantly dead whilst the fifth squealed and writhed until, sickened, a man ended its existence with a shot from his weapon.
The room we had now secured appeared to be the engine room. It contained similar black machinery I remembered seeing at the rear of the Cylinder at Horsell Common.
‘Right. This place is as good as any for your display, Glenn,’ Churchill said.
‘Very good, sir!’ Glenn beamed. ‘How long shall I set the timers for?’
Churchill pondered this for a moment. The clockwork timing devices on the explosives should theoretically have given us time to get away from this base before the engines, and hopefully the base itself, were blown to Kingdom Come by the high explosives. This, of course, depended on our ability to escape at all.
‘Two hours, no more,’ Churchill decided finally. ‘That gives us a fighting chance at least, but we cannot leave it any longer lest this damned machine reaches it’s destination. We have no idea where we are but I’ll warrant we are not far from land. Hide the charges well, Glenn, and ensure that they are placed so as to do as much damage as possible.’
‘I don’t understand the workings of this engine as well as a human one but I shall do my best, sir!’
Churchill nodded, then turned to the assembled men. ‘When Glenn has finished his work we shall see if we can’t get off this thing, eh? I want four volunteers to stand guard here to ensure Glenn isn’t disturbed. Meanwhile, the rest of the group shall carry on the search. There can’t be much we haven’t seen now.’
Wayne raised his hand instantly, as did Thomas. Two other men also offered to stay and Glenn set to work.
Churchill checked the corridor, found it devoid of signs of life, and led the rest of us on once more.

[EvilNerfherder]

THE WAR OF THE WORLDS: AFTERMATH.


46. The Control Room.


CHAPTER REMOVED FOR ADJUSTMENT.

[richardburton]

Exciting stuff, matey! The tension continues to build. Well done.

[Commandingtripod]

Nice Nerfy.

Nice to include the Overlord.
Keep it coming. ;D

[EvilNerfherder]

Ok, here's Chapter 46 again. I wasn't happy with it and felt it needed a rewrite. I'm happier with this version.


THE WAR OF THE WORLDS: AFTERMATH.



46. The Control Room.




At the end of a long corridor further on from the Engine Room we came upon another silver door. This one was open but began to close as we reached it.
‘Charge, boys!’ the Sergeant cried and we did just that. Another group of Martians, around ten or so, skittered backwards raising their weapons as we did so. Again, incredibly, we had surprise as an advantage and most of the Martians fell with a few well-placed shots from human held weaponry.
A few, however, weaved out of and away from the melee and gathered in a small group at a far wall, seemingly refusing to fight. They stood in a tight circle, swaying to and fro, clutching their weapons tightly and pointing them outwards as if defending something.
Churchill shouted for all to cease fire, his eyes fixed on this little band of creatures. The men were confused, but were trained to obey orders and did so.
‘What is happening?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Churchill answered. ‘But my aim is to find out.’
For a few moments there was a tense standoff. Human beings faced creatures from far beyond our planet and, until recently, our imagination.
Weapons clattered in the hands of both sides and feet shuffled as warriors from both races fought the urge for battle.
I cast my eyes around the room and had an idea that this was the control room of the machine. Complex machinery lined one wall and, at the far end, a huge viewing window was set into another. I could see the undersea landscape passing by through this window and knew that the base was on the move. A large map sat on a platform in the centre of the room. It was there but I could see completely through it and I pondered how this could be. It did not appear to be glass as a soldier near to it was also studying it and pushed a hand forward as if to touch it. To his surprise, his hand went through it as if it were not there. It must have therefore been some form of projected image, although were it was projected from I do not know.
The map showed what was unmistakably a photographic image of Southern England. Just off the coast of Brighton a small green light pulsed. If this green light was what I thought it appeared to be, there was no time to lose.
‘Churchill!’ I hissed.
‘Yes, a moment,’ he replied tersely, his eyes fixed on the group of Martians.
I held back further comment, for the moment, and looked again at this little group. The Martians were gathered round another Martian. It was similar to they only larger and its glistening skin had a paler, greyer hue. It perched upon a small silver stool and its tentacles writhed around its great head. I was reminded, by the waving of these appendages, of hearing the tale of the Gorgon, Medusa, in Classics lessons as a boy.
Its great, black, watery eyes locked onto mine and held my gaze.
A piercing pain inside my head warned me that this creature was trying to enter my mind. I must have given out a sharp cry as the pain began as all eyes turned to me.
‘Smith?’ I distantly heard Churchill ask.
‘It…’ I said with difficulty. ‘It is trying to communicate.’
Images flashed before my mind’s eye now. An opulent building in which this creature sat. Tapestries lined the walls, seemingly showing episodes of Martian history. Smaller Martians attended to this creature’s needs as it waved it’s tentacles emphatically at some form of screen and I had the idea I was looking at how things had been on Mars before the Invasion. An arid-looking landscape of red rocks came next, across which a Fighting Machine stalked. Great fields of the Red Weed swaying in the Martian breeze lay beyond that. Finally, I saw the construction of a giant cannon and a Cylinder being lowered into it. I almost felt the thunderous report as this device was fired and, with a massive spurt of green flame, the Cylinder was ejected into space.
I became aware that I was being shaken.
‘Smith, don’t let it read your mind!’ Cavendish was saying. Cavendish?
My vision cleared a little and I saw it was Churchill, not Cavendish who shook me. I have often, since pondered on this illusion but have failed to come up with an explanation.
I tried then, to stop the probing. I built a wall in my mind, brick on brick, with which to close my thoughts off from this creature. As I did so, much to my relief, it appeared to work. The pain faded and my head cleared.
‘Are you all right?’ Churchill asked concerned. I could see that, beyond him, soldiers were shuffling about nervously. They wanted to kill this creature and its entourage and get away.
‘I think I know what this creature is,’ I said finally. ‘It is the Supreme Commander of the Invasion force. The closest approximation I can come to is that it is named the Overlord.’
‘What does it want?’ Churchill asked.
‘It wants to live.’ I answered simply.
‘I’ll bet it does!’ the Sergeant said hotly, stalking toward us. ‘I say we put it out of its misery and get off this base before it becomes so much scrap metal!’
Churchill simply glanced at him and something in his eyes stopped further words before they left the Sergeant’s already open mouth.
‘This creature may be useful to us,’ Churchill said after a moment.
‘Useful how?’ the Sergeant asked, his face twisted with frustration. ‘The only good Martian is a dead Martian!’
‘We have the enemy Commander in our grasp, Sergeant. How can we let this opportunity slip away? If, as Cavendish has said, the Martians plan to invade again, we can learn much about their possible tactics from this creature. It may give us an advantage we may not have without it.’
‘I do not agree!’ the Sergeant said bitterly. ‘We know how tricky these things are. It will try to be away at the first chance it gets! Kill it now and we save ourselves a job later, I say!’
‘Kill it now and we are no better than they are. When the time comes, it will be brought to account for its crimes. It lives and that is an order. Do you understand?’ Churchill’s burning eyes bore into the Sergeants, as if daring him to disobey.
There was a tense pause and then the Sergeant nodded, deflated. I had an idea, then, of the greatness in the Lieutenant that would see him rise to bigger things in years to come.
‘Sir.’ The Sergeant said quietly.
‘Right. Men, all eyes on the prisoners. One move to escape and you shoot to kill.’
The men, who had been watching this exchange, nodded their affirmation and levelled their weapons at the Martians.
‘Now then,’ Churchill said. ‘Let’s see if we can’t stop this thing, eh?’

[richardburton]

ah that's much better! Like the exchange between Sarge and Churchill - adds to the tension

[beecus]

Sheer brilliance

Totally Wellsian in style!