Short Story By Bear J. Sleeman: We're Here To Go To Space! Bear Mountain Brotherhood Go to Mars

 

We're Here To Go To Space! Bear Mountain Brotherhood Go to Mars

A Short Story by Bear J. Sleeman Author of BEAR MOUNTAIN: THE ALPINE CRUCIBLE

'Jack, Megumi, Paul & Steve "Jugs" Go to Space'

Bear Mountain Monkie Jihad: The Escape

The cold wind whipped against their faces as Jack Rennell led his ragtag band of brothers through the treacherous trails of Bear Mountain, Japan’s Great Northern Alps. The sky was a heavy blanket of gray, clouds swirling ominously above the dense forests. They moved in silence, their breath fogging in the cold air, the sound of boots crunching over brittle earth barely audible over the howl of the wind. Jack's eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the horizon with the precision of a seasoned hunter.

Behind him, Megumi’s gaze darted between the trees, her hand resting on the modified HK416 strapped to her back. Steve “Jugs” Rennell brought up the rear, his hands clenched tight on the AR-15 slung across his chest, while Paul Rennell, Jack’s older brother and a genius with battle strategies and machines, moved beside him, his eyes constantly flicking down to the small, modified tablet displaying any movement in their vicinity.

“Stay low,” Jack muttered. “The bastards could be anywhere.”

For weeks, they’d been evading the hordes of hybrid jihad monkeys—genetically altered, cyber-enhanced killing machines under the control of Klaus Hugo-a-Go-Go Klaw and Kill Gates. The world had gone dark, overrun by this new breed of enemy, and the few humans who had survived were nothing more than prey. Jack’s group was the exception—they were predators, even now, as they stalked through the mountainous wilderness.

Ahead of them loomed Mount Murodo in the Tateyama Range, snow-capped and menacing, its cliffs jagged like the teeth of some ancient beast.

“Hold up,” Steve called out from the back, scanning the horizon with his rifle. “Got movement about two clicks south. Might be a patrol.”

“Can’t risk it,” Jack grunted. “We stick to the plan.”

Megumi crouched beside him, her black tactical suit blending perfectly with the shadows of the trees. “There’s an old Japanese space station nearby, abandoned years ago. It should still be hidden, buried under all that snow.”

Paul’s eyes lit up. “If it’s still powered, we might find something we can use.”

Jack nodded. “Let’s move.”

The Space Station

It didn’t take long for them to find the entrance, hidden behind a massive steel door covered in moss and overgrowth. Jack leaned into the heavy handle and, with a grunt, pulled it open. The door screeched against years of rust, revealing a dark tunnel leading into the mountain itself. Cold air rushed out like the breath of a long-dead machine.

“Stay frosty,” Jack ordered. “We don’t know what’s down there.”

They descended into the black, their tactical lights flickering as they made their way through the labyrinthine tunnels. Faded signs in Japanese lined the walls, directing them deeper into what had once been the heart of Japan’s covert space program. After nearly half an hour of navigating the underground network, they reached a vast room—the central command center.

Paul’s eyes lit up as they stepped inside. "This is it.”

The room stretched out in front of them, rows of dusty consoles and monitors lining the walls. At the far end was the mission control desk, covered in layers of grime. Paul immediately made his way to it, brushing off the dust and peering at the controls.

"Think it’ll still work?" Steve asked, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and walking up to the panel.

“Only one way to find out.” Paul flipped a switch. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, then a low hum. Lights flickered on overhead, bathing the room in a dim, cold glow.

"Power must still be connected to the nearby nuclear plant,” Paul murmured, half to himself. "We’re in business."

The Discovery

As the lights buzzed to life, Jack moved deeper into the complex, his instincts pulling him toward the far end of the control center. There, partially hidden by shadows, was a set of stairs leading down.

“This way,” Jack grunted.

The others followed, the narrow staircase creaking beneath their weight as they descended into the bowels of the mountain. The tunnel twisted and turned, leading them through an intricate maze of old technology. At the end of the tunnel stood a set of metallic doors—a relic of Japan’s past.

Paul tapped on the control pad beside the doors, and they hissed open. The sight before them made them all freeze in place.

“Holy shit,” Steve muttered, his voice filled with awe.

It was a rocket. A massive, sleek rocket, buried deep within the mountain, forgotten by the world above. Jack stepped forward, his eyes scanning the enormous structure. The nose cone, glinting in the dim light, seemed to beckon them.

“This thing’s operational,” Paul whispered, eyes wide.

Steve stepped forward, his instincts as a former pilot kicking in. “This could be our ticket out of here.”

They moved quickly, climbing into the nose cone of the rocket, settling into the flight seats once occupied by astronauts long forgotten. Steve sat at the pilot's chair, his fingers flying over the controls. "Let’s see what this baby can do."

He flipped a series of switches, the cockpit coming to life. Monitors blinked on, the control panel lighting up like a Christmas tree. Suddenly, Megumi’s voice cut through the hum of machinery.

“We’ve got company.”

Jack followed her gaze to one of the monitors. On the screen, hordes of thousands of hybrid jihad monkeys swarmed into the mission control center. They were fast, brutal, and there were thousands of them.

“Shit!” Jack cursed. “They found us.”

Megumi’s voice was ice-cold. “They’re heading straight for us.”

Countdown to Survival

Steve’s hands were steady as he began flipping switches, going through the pre-flight checklist with military precision.

“Strap-in and Buckle up,” he ordered, his voice calm despite the chaos unfolding. “We’re launching this son of a bitch.”

Outside, the AI voice of the space center's loudspeaker crackled to life, cold and emotionless.

“Rocket launch in T-minus three minutes.”

The words sent a surge of adrenaline through the group. Jack tightened the straps of his harness, eyes flicking between the monitors and the horde of monkeys closing in.

“They’re coming fast,” Paul muttered, watching as the jihad monkeys smashed through the glass of the mission control windows, spilling into the space like a flood of nightmares.

“T-minus two minutes.”

The countdown continued. Steve’s hands worked furiously, flipping switches in the correct sequence.

“Main fuel pump engaged. Liquid nitrogen purge initiated,” he called out, the ground rumbling beneath them as plumes of nitrogen gas spewed from the base of the rocket.

“T-minus one minute.”

The jihad monkeys were inside the space facility now, their screeches echoing through the halls as they sprinted on all fours, tearing through anything in their path. On the monitor, Jack saw them reach the elevators, swarming up the shafts like ants. Others took to the stairs, moving with terrifying speed.

Steve initiated the pre-flight checks, flipping the master ignition switches. “We’re going hot!”

Outside, flames erupted from the base of the rocket, the engines roaring to life, spewing fire and smoke. The monkeys reached the top of the stairwell, their red eyes glowing with primal fury as they smashed through the final doors leading to the rocket bay.

“T-minus thirty seconds.”

“Here they come!” Paul shouted, pointing to the window.

The first wave of jihad monkeys appeared, their cybernetic limbs pounding against the steel as they swarmed the flight deck. Their snarls filled the air as they slammed into the side of the rocket.

“T-minus ten seconds.”

“Hold on tight!” Steve yelled. “We’re launching!”

The countdown reached zero.

“Ignition in 3… 2… 1.”

The engines roared to life, flames erupting from the base of the rocket. The entire structure shook violently as the thrust built, the sound deafening. Jack held on, teeth gritted as the rocket began to rise, the flames licking up the stairwell, incinerating the jihad monkeys in a wave of fire.

The rocket launched, tearing free from the mountain with a thunderous roar. The G-forces slammed them back into their seats as they soared into the sky, leaving the chaos behind.

Close Call

Inside the cockpit, the silence was almost deafening after the violence of the launch. The team sat in their flight seats, strapped in, breathing heavily. The monitors flickered, displaying the Earth below as they broke through the atmosphere.

Megumi looked over at Jack, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. "Close call."

Jack smirked. "Too damn close."

The AI voice interrupted, cold and mechanical.

“Mars-bound trajectory confirmed. Estimated time to orbit: two months, seventeen days, twenty-one hours.”

Steve leaned back in his seat, a grin spreading across his face as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Giddy up.”

They were alive—and thriving. But as the cold, dead silence of space enveloped them, they knew the war was far from over. Earth was behind them, but Mars… Mars was the next battlefield.

Author Bear J. Sleeman ©