by L. S. O'Dea
“That doesn’t make sense,” said Bumpers. “We hatched like this. This is what we are.”
“I don’t know.” Speckles turned his back to the Guards and wrapped his arms around his legs. “I remember things. Things that I shouldn’t know. Things that are impossible to know from the egg.”
“Like what?” Bumpers pulled Flea closer.
“Like the sun and sky.” Speckles looked upward but there was nothing but false light. “The wind.” He smiled. “And water. I hated the rain. I hated getting wet.”
“Me too.” Flea looked up at Bumpers. “I remember those things too, but how?”
“I...I don’t know.” Bumpers looked at Glick. “Do you remember?”
“Yeah, but I don’t understand it either.” It was like the memory was imprinted in his brain from another life.
Speckles’ eyes had a faraway look. “We weren’t always Brush-Men. We were...” He shook his head. “I can’t quite remember.”
Glick’s gaze caught one of the two largest of the Brush-Men. It was staring at them, moving its mouth. He strained to hear the soft sound through the glass. “I think they know too.”
The others turned and looked.
“You think they all know?” asked Bumpers.
Glick moved to the edge of the branch and the largest Brush-Man’s eyes followed him. There was something about the creature—a sadness coupled with a gleam of superiority. “I don’t know about all of them, but I’m positive the big ones do, at least that one. He’s calling them Guards. He’s trying to get them to move closer to him.”
The large Brush-Man continued to click and clack, softly and in rhythm.
The Guards moved around the enclosure, looking down and kicking at the ground. Stink bent.
“Did you find something?” asked Topper.
“Just a stick.” Stink straightened.
“What are they looking for?” asked Flea.
“Not sure,” said Bumpers.
“Over here was where we stomped them.” Topper moved to the area where Speckles had broken through the earth. “There has to be parts of them around here somewhere.”
“I don’t want them to find Rocky. They’ll take him and...” Speckles’ voice cracked.
“Don’t worry. They won’t find him.” Glick put his arm around the smaller Brush-Man.
“How can they not?” Speckles stared at him.
Bumpers shot him a warning look.
“We buried him.” He wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t going to let it slip that what remained of Rocky was wrapped in leaves at the base of their bush.
“But your hands aren’t white,” said Flea.
“We used leaves to protect ourselves,” said Bumpers.
“Yeah.” Glick looked back at the Guards.
“There ain’t any of them here.” Stink kicked at the dirt.
“We can’t leave until we find some remains.” Topper looked at the Brush-Men in the other cage. “We can’t fail Scottsmoor.”
“We didn’t fail. If they ain’t here, they ain’t here.” Stink kicked the dirt again. “Hold up a second.” He bent again.
“What’d you find?” Topper hurried to his side.
“Only white ash. Little bits of it all around.” Stink touched the soil and straightened holding his gloved finger out to Topper. “What do you think this is?”
“It ain’t remains so I don’t care.” Topper continued walking and searching the soil.
“Why would they want the remains?” asked Glick.
“Not for anything good, I’m sure,” said Bumpers.
CHAPTER 8: Scottsmoor
Scottsmoor walked into the Plated-Presser lab. He was thrilled to get rid of this project, but there were certain secrets he was unwilling to share, especially with Parson. The nervous, little twit had already impressed Conguise. He wasn’t going to help him do it again.
He turned on his computer and started deleting and modifying his notes. He had copies at home if he needed them. As soon as he finished, he headed to the River-Men laboratory. He tapped on the door and entered without waiting for a reply. He was senior over Parson and he needed the younger Almighty to remember that.
Parson looked up from his computer. “Scottsmoor? What are you doing here?”
“The Testusteons project is now yours.” He handed Parson a key. “This opens the office. I moved all my notes to a location on the computer that you should be able to access.” All except the ones on breeding. He wasn’t about to give that secret away. It was going to get him a promotion.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Parson slipped the key into his pocket.
“You aren’t happy about this?” The other Almighty shouldn’t be but this was the first time he’d ever heard anyone on Level Five reveal his true thoughts. It wasn’t a smart thing to do.
“What?” Parson looked up from the computer. “No. I mean, of course I’m happy. I now have three projects. I think most of you have two.” His lips turned upward in a smirk.
“Three projects?” He had two. The Brush-Men and now the Rattus Norvegicus. If anyone could’ve handled three projects, it was him not Parson.
“Yep. Professor Conguise gave me the Slug-Mug project from McBrid a few weeks ago.”
“What did Conguise give McBrid?” That meant the professor was giving out new projects to others besides him.
“I have no idea.” Parson began working again.
“I wouldn’t get too excited. The Testusteons and the Gastropodas are both a waste of time.”
Parson glanced up. “The professor doesn’t think so.”
“And you know what he thinks.” It wasn’t a question. None of them knew what machinations turned in Conguise’s brilliant mind.
“He mentioned something about harvesting the secretions from the Slug-Mugs. Its effects are fascinating.”
He should’ve been given that project. “You’re a scientist. Use their real names. Conguise doesn’t approve of the nicknames used by Guards and Servants.”
“I’m sorry. It just slipped out. I wasn’t thinking,” Parson’s body twitched with fear and nerves.
“Don’t worry about it. No one has to know.” He needed to focus, making an enemy of Parson wasn’t going to help him discover how the younger scientist had impressed Conguise.
“Thank you.” The tension fled Parson like air from a balloon.
“Don’t mention it. We’re all friends here.” Right. He didn’t have time for friends. He turned and wandered toward the enclosure. Three River-Men—two females and one male—swam in lazy circles around the tank.
“Amazing aren’t they?” Parson walked up behind him.
They were sleek, powerful and deadly. “How many died before you were able to create these?”
“None.” Parson’s tone was smug.
He’d never admit he was impressed. It was time to remind the younger scientist that he was the expert. “Have they bred yet?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Hmm. Shame.” He moved closer to the tank. “Breeding hasn’t been my problem. Those Brush-Men breed too successfully.”
“Brush-Men? You’re a scientist. Shouldn’t you use their scientific names?”
He wanted to slap the smirk off the other Almighty’s face but he stopped, unable to take another step. A Guard was curled in a ball by the tank. “Is he dinner?” He’d seen the River-Men feed once. It’d been fascinating. “Shouldn’t you drop him into the tank?” That was how Ableson had done it.
“No, because he’s not their dinner.” Parson didn’t even try to keep the pleased tone from his voice.
The Guard stood, unfolding his long limbs. Scottsmoor stepped closer as if mesmerized. This wasn’t just a Guard. This was a transformed Guard, but he wasn’t completely transformed. His hands were webbed but there was the hint of Guard in the fingers. His feet were flippers and his skin was both flesh and scales. The Guard stripped off his clothes and Scottsmoor’s mouth dropped open. He wasn’t attracted to males but this one’s form
was impressive. The Guard was all sleek skin and muscle without an ounce of fat. He’d never seen anything like it. The Guard’s eyes met his and he forced himself not to take a step backward. There was more than hatred in those eyes. There was superiority.
“How long has he been like this? In there with them? Do the others bother him in his hybrid state?” The questions tumbled from his mouth. The other hosts had all changed brutally and in stages but this was something different. This was more mix than morph.
“He’s been like this for weeks,” said Parson.
“And the others don’t bother him?” River-Men would eat anything. All the creatures here would. Some, like the Brush-Men and Cold Creepers, had even been known to cannibalize their young.
“No. They seem to recognize that he’s like them. It’s odd.” Parson moved closer, studying the Guard.
“He’s getting into the tank.” The building could’ve collapsed around him and he wouldn’t have moved. That Guard was going to swim with the River-Men. He was either going to be torn into pieces or Scottsmoor was about to witness history.
The Guard slid into the water and dipped below the surface. The male River-Man bumped into him but kept swimming. The females ignored him.
“Amazing. How far along in the transformation is he?”
“Quite far along, actually,” answered Parson.
That wasn’t good news. Parson had succeeded where all the rest of them had failed. Hopefully, the Guard, hadn’t inherited the strength and cunning of the predator. “How is his swimming and physical prowess?”
“See for yourself.”
The Guard swam with the grace and speed of the River-Men. The only difference was that he had to surface for air.
“How did you do it?” Damn, he’d screwed that up.
“I should get back to work.” Parson headed for his desk, hesitating when Scottsmoor didn’t follow.
He had to salvage this. “I think we should work together to succeed because if we fail...” He let his eyes go back to the tank. “Things happen. Bad things.” No one had to remind Parson what’d happened to Ableson.
Parson shifted to the side as if blocking his desk.
“I don’t want to see your work.” He did. He really, really did. That Guard was only a few steps away from being a complete success. If the younger scientist could get the Guard to obey and he figured out breeding, Scottsmoor would be taking orders from Parson in the future. He couldn’t allow that to happen. “I may be able to help you with the breeding aspect.”
“And what do you want in return?” Parson glanced at the door, fidgeting.
“Nothing, for now.” He paused. “I’ve been given another project and if things don’t go well, I may need some hints from you on how”—his eyes went to the hybrid Guard who was watching them through the tank—“you managed to inhibit the transformation.”
“You’ll help with the breeding?”
“Yes.” Absolutely, not, but it’d take time for proof of pregnancy and a little time was all he needed.
“Okay. Thanks. I’d appreciate any suggestions you have. You are the expert in that department.” Parson laughed it was a nervous, twittering sound. “The Brush...Phasmatodeas breed too successfully.”
“Yes, they do.” He moved closer to the enclosure. “Have you given them privacy?”
“Privacy? Why do they need privacy?”
“Mating.”
“They’re not Almightys,” said Parson.
“No, but some of them seem to retain characteristics of their former class.”
“I hadn’t considered that...but I’m not always in here and they haven’t mated.”
“You know that for certain?”
“Yes. I turn on the cameras whenever I leave.”
“And you watch those tapes every day?” He hadn’t watched his recordings in months.
“Yes.” Parson crossed his arms over his chest. “I was told that was part of the job when Professor Conguise hired me.”
“Hmm.” That wasn’t good. If he couldn’t convince the younger Almighty to share secrets, he’d have to steal them. He couldn’t do that if the kid watched the tapes. “The Brush-Men don’t like the cameras.” He tapped his ear. “The noise, I think.”
“They began mating after you stopped the cameras?”
“Not right away, but a while later, yes.” He started for the door. “I should go. I’ve taken up too much of your time already.”
“Ah...It’s no problem.” Parson followed him. “I’ll turn off the cameras. Any other advice?”
He had plenty of bad advice to share. “Keep them fed. Overfeed them if necessary.” In his experience that actually backfired. Too much food killed their desire to mate.
CHAPTER 9: Scottsmoor
“What do you mean there are no bodies?” Scottsmoor stood in the Brush-Men lab, his hands shaking. This couldn’t be happening. The Guards had to be mistaken.
“They disappeared,” said Stink.
“They couldn’t have disappeared.” He moved toward the empty enclosure, pausing half-way there. The Brush-Men in the other cage were gathered at the glass, waiting and watching. If they ever managed to break through...He couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through him.
“They did though,” said Topper. “They turned to dust. White dust.”
“They disintegrated?” He spun around. That was possible.
“Yeah, that’s what I said,” said Stink.
“You said disappeared. There’s a difference.”
“If you say so.” Stink looked at Topper and shrugged.
“There is a distinct difference between...” It didn’t matter. It wasn’t his job to educate the Guards. “Go inside and bring me a sample of that white powder.”
Both Guards turned, eyes wide as they stared at the Brush-Men.
“Go. I need it now.” He didn’t have time for nervous Guards.
“You don’t actually need us both to do it, do you?” asked Stink.
Topper sent him a glare, a soft rumble coming from his chest.
“No, I don’t.”
“Good.” Stink stepped away from the cage. “You do it, Topper.”
“Yes, Topper.” Scottsmoor had no plans on rewarding cowardice. “Gather a sample of the disintegrated Brush-Men and the soil around it.” He turned to Stink. “While he’s doing that, you can get the hose. As soon as he’s done, I want you to saturate the ground.”
“What?” Stink’s round face, paled. “In there? Me? Alone?”
“Yes. We’ll need to move the Brush-Men soon so we can destroy the eggs in their current enclosure.” The beastly creatures were way too fertile.
“The whole enclosure? By myself?” Stink’s eyes kept darting between him and the Brush-Men.
“Yes, Stink. The entire enclosure needs to be hosed down.” He moved closer to the Guard. “I want to see puddles.”
“That’ll take hours. I’ll need help.” Stink’s gaze stopped on the Brush-Men.
“You would’ve had it except you tried to skimp on your duties.”
“I didn’t.” Stink looked to Topper for help but the other Guard shook his head, grinning.
“You did.” Scottsmoor turned to his desk. “Now, do as you’re told, or I’ll make you go in alone tomorrow and spray the neutralizer.”
“I’m going.” Stink left to get the hose.
CHAPTER 10: Glick
Glick huddled under a patch of leaves with Speckles, drops of water falling onto both of them. The Guard had sprayed everything, including the bush they called home.
“I think it’s safe now.” Bumpers crawled from where he and Flea had hidden.
Glick stood, shaking himself and sending droplets of water flying through the air. As soon as he was somewhat dry, he moved to the center of the bush and sat down.
Bumpers helped Flea settle on a branch. She wrapped her skinny arms around her knees, trying to keep warm.
“I’ll go get some food.” Bumpers cupped Flea’s cheek fondly.
Glick groaned as he stood. He was cold and wet and wanted to sleep but food sounded really good.
“Stay with the others,” said Bumpers.
“You can’t carry enough—”
Bumpers tipped his head and Glick followed him to a more private part of the bush.
“We have no idea what it’s like down there.” Bumpers’ voice was low. “The...food could be on the ground.” He glanced at Flea. “I need you to stay here. Just in case.”
He looked at the two, littler Brush-Men who were shivering and shaking, their brown skin almost black from all the water.
“They need one of us alive,” said Bumpers.
“I’ll go. You stay.” He was terrified, but the others needed Bumpers more than they needed him, especially Flea.
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
He stared at his feet and whispered, “I can’t take care of them. I can’t. It’s not in me. Don’t ask me to do that.”
“You can do this.” Bumpers put his hands on Glick’s shoulders. “You’re brave and strong.”
“I’m not. I...I ran. I didn’t even try to help my clutch-mates.”
“They were all dead. There was nothing you could’ve done.”
“What if they weren’t. What if I was wrong?” He swore it’d been silent but he wasn’t positive.
“Glick stay here.” Bumpers patted his back. “I’ll be right back.”
“Please. I need to go.”
Bumpers stared into his face for a long time. Glick was sure his friend was going to refuse, but finally Bumpers nodded.
“Don’t take any chances and only bring back what you can safely carry.”
“Okay.” He didn’t want to go, but staying was worse.
“If everything’s good, I can go down later and get more food.”
“Got it.” He scurried around Bumpers and started down the bush. He wanted to get out of there before his friend changed his mind.
His fingers slipped off the wet branch and he swayed, catching himself before he fell.
“Glick, you okay?” Bumpers was still watching him.
“Yeah.” He waved. “Didn’t expect it to be so slippery.”