by Michael Todd
“Wallace,” Chris said under his breath. He needed to talk to Wallace.
The infirmary lay next to the exercise room. Sergeant Erik Wallace had spent a lot of time in both. A giant kangarat, as the men had nicknamed them, had broken both the man’s legs, dislocated one of his hips, and injured his spine. At least Chris had killed the monster responsible. He found the sergeant today in a corner of the exercise room being attended to by a physical therapist who’d been flown in to help with the recent upsurge in injured troops.
“There. Is that better?” the therapist asked.
“Some.” Wallace grimaced as he stood between her and the medic. His broad frame and heavy muscle had lost some mass since he’d first been checked into the medical ward. He was only able to stand because of a prototype exoskeleton the military had rolled out last year for cases like his. Considering his service and the intelligence he had helped return to the camp, the agents had pulled some strings to make him a beta tester.
The frame totally encased his feet and lower legs in deep-gray metal. Or was it some form of plasteel? Further components extended up his thighs and wrapped around parts of his hips and lower back. A discrete wire ran up to a headpiece above and behind his right ear. It looked less like part of a traditional cyborg than armor from an old sci-fi anime. Chris thought it would have been cool if it also had glowing Tron lines, but that would be bad for stealthy modern combat, wouldn’t it?
“All right then, take a few steps toward me,” the therapist said. She was a pleasant-looking woman in her early forties. Her blond hair draped to frame her oval face as soft blue orbs peered out at him. The remainder of her hair streamed midway down her back. “Remember to think of a gentle forward step and trust the unit to help your legs. It will be somewhat frightening at first. And there will be pain. But we already double-checked its calibrations to your current condition.”
Wallace took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and obeyed. His right leg shifted slowly and smoothly. It rose, extended, and lowered as he lurched forward. Then his left leg did likewise. It wasn’t exactly a clean motion, but it was better than being trapped in a wheelchair or a harness. Two more steps brought him one step from the therapist, and he stopped.
“I can’t control the amount of…force I use in moving forward yet,” Wallace stated. His face had turned pink. A vein stood out on his forehead and sweat ran down beside it.
Chris could only imagine how much it hurt, given the way Wallace had been mangled. But the man was tough. He always had been.
“It feels like I’m going forward too fast and hard and I’m about to crash into something.”
“Hmm.” The woman laid a finger to her lips as she examined him thoughtfully. “That might simply be that you need to get used to it. It’s like riding in a car with someone else. It always seems like they’re driving faster and crazier than if you yourself had been driving. Keep practicing. Try going back and forth a few steps at a time. I’ll be back in half an hour to check on your progress.” She turned and left, presumably for lunch.
After a couple more practice steps, Wallace looked up. “Hey, Chris,” he said.
“Hey there,” Chris returned with a weak smile. “Honestly, I’d say you’re doing pretty well. At least you can move again. It’s almost a miracle from on high, really.”
“More like a bargain with the devil.” Wallace grunted as he continued his robotic pacing. “But this is the only treatment that’ll get me back on my feet quickly enough. If ever.”
“Understandable,” Chris said.
Wallace stopped and turned to fix him with that familiar grim expression as his hazel eyes hardened. “That doesn’t mean I’m ungrateful. Better injured than dead, and I have you to thank for being alive at all right now. I also appreciate you coming to see me.”
Chris nodded. Years of military training had fit Wallace into the mold of the stoic type. Outward expressions of emotion weren’t allowed. The only way for a normal person to know how he was feeling was to actually state it. Chris knew he meant it, though. They’d been through a lot in those few hours they’d worked together.
“It’s fine. Don’t forget that you saved my life first. Besides, I need to talk to someone sensible occasionally.”
Wallace’s lips curved in a thin smile as he took a few more mechanical steps in the opposite direction. The frame’s motion was more natural this time. He seemed to be getting the hang of it.
“You must have been speaking to the agents,” he surmised.
Chris let out an exasperated sigh and threw his hands up. “They expect the wall to be finished but don’t want to spend the money to reinforce it. Worse, they expect me to figure out how to fight the damn Zoo, but they won’t let anyone go back in for a goop plant. Those things are obviously the key to understanding the whole phenomenon. I tried to explain that to them and they merely said they didn’t deal with nerd stuff. Maybe they’d listen to an actual military guy…Do you think you could talk to them? Maybe even get the message passed up to this mysterious Boss of theirs?”
Wallace shook his head. “I’m a Sergeant, an NCO. I’m a grunt that they slapped a slightly more impressive-looking badge on so I could manage the other grunts for them to keep them alive while they do important stuff like put stamps on paperwork. I don’t have much clout, Chris. There really isn’t much I can do. It’s like you’re asking one of the shift managers at McDonald’s to make demands of the franchise owner or the damn CEO. Orders are orders, and the chain of command doesn’t work that way.”
“Yeah, I know,” Chris grated. “You’re probably right. It’s just…” Frustration welled up within him, and he balled his hands into fists. “There’s so much potential there. Like Kemp suspected, the goop is practically a cure-all if properly distilled. We could revolutionize agriculture, medicine, everything. We could heal your injuries in record time. With even one goop plant, you wouldn’t have ended up as a cripple after the excellent shape you used to be in, and we could—”
“Hold it,” Wallace said sharply. He extended a hand. His face hardened into the same business face he’d taken with Emma before she sacrificed herself. The anger practically radiated off the man. In short, Chris knew he’d made a big mistake and was about to regret it.
“Uh,” Chris began. A blush rose in his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to call you a—”
“Step over to that ring.” Wallace gestured toward the square mat where the troops engaged in boxing matches, jujutsu practice, and so forth.
Chris swallowed heavily. There could be any number of reasons why Wallace wanted them to go there. Maybe he wanted to practice with the suit. Chris prayed he simply wanted to practice with the suit as he posed the dreaded question. “Why?”
“Because I want you to fight me. We need a demonstration of how well I can still function with this thing.” He stepped toward the ring himself.
And with that, Chris’ fears were confirmed. “Are you sure? I mean, you’re doing pretty well there now, but a fight? I wouldn’t want to…you know…injure you more. You know I have a blue belt in Hapkido right?”
“You mentioned it twelve or thirteen times, yes,” Wallace returned. “If you were totally untrained, I wouldn’t challenge you.”
Chris sighed, removed his shoes, stretched, and took position on the far side of the ring. He found himself thinking of the fight between Jackie Chan and Benny “the Jet” Urquidez in Wheels on Meals.
“Okay, we’ll keep this friendly and maybe medium-contact at most,” Chris said as Wallace approached. The sergeant, who was tall and muscular with cheekbones that resembled axe blades, looked even more imposing than usual with his metal legs. He crossed the edge of the mat and took another step.
Chris cracked his neck to the side. “After five minutes, though, we should get back to—”
Wallace was already on top of him. The man had picked up speed, using the exoskeleton to force himself into a near-run. Chris jerked back into a fighting stance and prepared to counter. Wall
ace compensated by raising one of his legs high in front of himself in mid-step. The metallic surface of his exoskeleton made for a perfect shield. Chris hesitated.
That was all the time Wallace needed to shove him back fast and hard with both hands. The momentum of his charge gave the action extra force and toppled Chris off his feet. The scientist’s reflexes kicked in immediately and he rolled back off the mat with both his legs sticking up in the air.
Chris gasped as he worked to get his breath back. He stumbled to his feet and nodded to his friend. “Not bad. You win.”
“Don’t mistake injury for weakness,” Wallace said. He moved slowly now to focus on the control the therapist had ordered.
“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he said, and coughed as the full use of his lungs returned to him. “I guess I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Not many people do,” Wallace explained. “The best defense is a good offense. One of the oldest pieces of advice in the book, but it’s true. I wouldn’t have been in condition to defend against attacks from a healthier man, so I launched right in and neutralized the threat as quickly as possible.”
Chris ran a hand through his hair. The thin black strands had grown into a mismatched forest that swayed on the edges of his vision. It was definitely time for a trim. He had little doubt he could find a barber on base. It was purely a matter of finding the time. “You know, that’s a good—” He froze in place and blinked as inspiration struck. “That’s a really good idea. Goddamn, Wallace. You’re a genius.”
“Thanks,” the sergeant replied. “Now, how about you tell me what the hell you’re talking about?”
“The broader situation, of course,” Chris expounded. “We can’t secure the wall. So why not neutralize the threat?”
Wallace’s brow furrowed. “You being a science guy who wants to study the Zoo and all, I would have thought you’d be the last one to push for just firebombing the whole—”
“No, no,” Chris interrupted. “I mean the chimera. Why not simply send a team in to find it and kill it?”
Wallace paused to consider. He frowned. “Easier said than done,” he said darkly. “Remember, the last time a team went in, I ended up as one of the lucky ones. And I’m not doing so great here.”
“Yes, I know, and I’m sorry,” Chris apologized. “But, I mean, we know so much more about the place now. Hell, I could act as a guide, almost.” He grinned. “I’ll pitch it to the Men in Black right now while I think of it and before I lose my nerve.”
He turned and strode off. Wallace’s protests echoed behind. “Don’t get your hopes up, Chris. Even if they agree, they’ll probably find a way to screw it up.”
It probably was a stupid idea. But in his time, the scientist had seen several stupid ideas that turned out to be crazy enough to work.
4
Chris strode down brightly-lit white halls past bustling officers, researchers, guards, and maintenance staff and tried not to think too hard. He didn’t want to second-guess himself and undermine his own confidence. Two sets of black-clad legs disappeared into the head office as Chris rounded the corner. The agents had just gotten back from somewhere, then.
A group of four soldiers clustered in the corner of the hallway. Chris recognized one of them as the first witnesses who’d spoken up at Wall One. His thick-set shoulders and burning red face were a difficult thing to forget. Much like he had at the wall, he was the one doing most of the talking.
“No fuckin’ way those two could ass-fuck each other harder than they ass-fuck this whole base,” he said to his audience. “We’re talking total turning-inside-out, deep-inside-the-guts fuckery here, crossing the border from Gay Pride Parade territory into Hentai Tentacle Land. Fuckin’ shitting-out-the-mouth cosmic horror shit, with all of us as their fuckin’ prison bitches, man.”
The other three laughed, and Chris had to nod his head in appreciation of the man’s verbal creativity. He passed them, showed his ID tag to the sentry, and knocked on the office door.
“What?” two voices asked almost in unison.
“It’s Dr. Lin,” Chris said. “I have a proposal for how we can secure the wall, and I’m almost positive it will work.”
There was a pause. Then, Garcia’s voice said, “Come in.”
The two agents were seated behind their double-length mutual desk. Garcia stood on the left, Davis on the right, as usual. “We’re busy, Dr. Lin,” Davis said. His face was hard despite its pudginess. “Urgent memos from Washington. Inquiries from foreign governments. Invoices from independent contractors. Whatever this is, it had better be good.”
“It is.” Chris took a deep breath to brace himself. “We know that the increased attacks on the wall are due to the creature the men have dubbed the Chimera. There seems to only be one such creature. Evidence indicates it’s highly intelligent and keeps dismantling parts of the wall. It’s been able to avoid our traps, and it even seems to have the ability to command the locusts like some sort of general.”
“Wow.” Garcia’s voice was laden with sarcasm as he shot Chris a thumbs-up and his lean face contorted in mock surprise. “We totally didn’t know that!”
“It was just a recap, Agent Garcia,” Chris said. “Now to my idea. Unlike the locusts, evidence indicates that there is only one of these creatures. As such, I propose that, since this general is the main problem, we send a highly-skilled and heavily-armed team into the Zoo to capture or kill it.” He paused as the men both wrinkled their brows. “It would need to be a fairly major operation, but it could also be one that’d be over and done within twenty-four hours—if we plan it right and send the right people.”
“And who might those ‘right people’ be, my good man?” Garcia asked as he peeked over the top of his dark glasses.
“A selection of our best troops for starters. Preferably including PFC Gunnar Åkerlund, since he was part of the rescue team that found Sgt. Wallace and me. He’s been inside the Zoo, even if only briefly. It would also require several vehicles, plenty of heavy weaponry, and men who are skilled in using it. It would also require any medics who can be spared. And lastly, the endeavor would require a guide who’s been in the heart of the jungle before. Naturally, that guide would be me.”
Both Agents stared blankly at him. Garcia cleared his throat and scratched behind his ear while Davis shuffled and reshuffled some papers.
“The best defense is a good offense,” Chris pointed out. “We’d have the advantage. We’d track the creature to its lair and keep it too busy to attack the wall right up until the point when we either kill it or capture it for study, assuming we can develop or find something capable of holding the beast. I’m not sure exactly how big it is, but it’s certainly not small.
“In any event, I’ve been all the way to the core of the Zoo, and I was the only person who came out in one piece. I’m also up to speed on all the other intel we have on the place and the original experiment that led to its existence.”
Davis retained his stoic expression as he stared at Chris through his shaded lenses. “We will deliberate on this. You make some good points. Preemption rather than reaction is a tactic that could hold some merit. It is an investment that could pay future dividends. But there are certain delicate matters to consider.”
“Such as cost, security clearance, getting approval from the Boss…” Agent Garcia went on. “You know, minor stuff like that.”
“Well do consider it,” Chris said, perhaps more forcefully than he had intended. “I’m telling you it will work. We’d have a chance to destroy the Chimera before it and its minions destroy us via attrition. Make no mistake. They are learning, and it’s only a matter of time before they circumvent our defenses and kill the troops reinforcing the barrier. Cutting off the head is the only option to preserve Wall One. And right now, the Chimera is that head.”
He would also have a chance to finally acquire a goop plant. He’d have to do it on the way out, of course, since uprooting even one of the things set off a chain reactio
n in the Zoo’s tightly-interwoven ecosystem to summon swarms of locusts to attack intruders. But it could be done. And he would do it.
Chris left and returned to Research & Development. The common grasshoppers they’d had in a cage when he’d first arrived there were dead by now. They didn’t even have a living sample of one of those to study anymore.
Perhaps two hours after Chris had resumed his relatively pointless lab work, the old-fashioned intercom crackled. Hearing it always reminded him of high school, when the office secretaries called naughty children down to speak with the principal. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up.
Agent Davis spoke. “Dr. Christopher Lin,” he said. “We have considered. After much deliberation, it seems that—”
“We might actually be able to pull it off,” Garcia’s voice continued. “I mean, when we balanced short-term costs against long-term costs, they started to even out. You might have made almost as good an accountant as a test-tube jockey. Right on, bro.”
“Your proposal,” Davis finished, “is acceptable.” The intercom crackled again and fell silent.
A wide-eyed kid fresh out of college turned to look at Chris. “What does that mean?”
Chris looked almost disbelievingly at the staff member. “It means I’ll be going on a safari.”
5
Chris had barely slept. Again. It was the same way it had been almost a month ago, the night before he went into the Zoo for the first time. Hell, he was even in the same room.
It was essentially a glorified closet, with space for little more than a cot and maybe a chair and large backpack, which was exactly what it contained. That, and stacks of books, files, and papers for his work. He’d mounted a laptop on the seat of the chair and used that as a desk to type on while he sat on his cot. A few stray parcels from the family back in North Carolina sat unopened at the foot of his bed. Scraps and other materials lay piled up or stacked on other objects that he hadn’t touched in nearly a week. He would have complained, but he was lucky to have his own room at all. Still, more space would have greatly helped with organization.