by Michael Todd
Sal shared the feeling.
Both Young and Kennedy glared at him, almost annoyed by the interruption. She was the least peeved of the two, of course, but she still peered at him like she wondered what he tried to do. In all honesty, he had no agenda in mind for his interruption. He simply didn’t want to have to listen to the two of them go back and forth in a heated conversation while they tried to eat and recover from a long day in the Zoo.
They had enough time for hostility and the like later. For now, they could enjoy the comparative peace and quiet. Of course, jungles were never quiet, and now that there were insect-arachnid hybrids out there, it was even less so. The song of what sounded like cicadas but of a different cadence eroded the near silence he’d grown accustomed to on his previous runs.
It wasn’t unpleasant and was actually quite musical if he listened carefully, even if it remained constant with no sign that it might stop anytime soon. It would grate over time, Sal knew, but for now, it was less irritating than having to endure the awkwardness of being in the middle of an argument that they weren’t a part of.
“We can figure all this shit out tomorrow,” he said. To punctuate the statement, he opened his heated ration and drew a long breath of the steamed vegetables with spaghetti and carbonara sauce. “For now, let’s eat and rest. Everyone’s had a long day, okay?”
The adversaries both nodded. Sal had almost expected them to put up more of a fight at his attempt to take the reins, but he realized that they had to be hungry and tired too. He pulled out the recyclable fork that came with the meal and dug in. Ito heated up an extra meal and handed it to Gregor with an apologetic smile.
Courtney moved to sit beside Sal while they ate. He smiled at her as his mouth was too full for him to say anything. The red sauce on his lips made him wish that she had joined him later when he’d had the time to clean himself up. As delicious as he found pasta like this to be, it wasn’t the most elegant meal, and he had long come to terms with the fact that the best spaghetti was usually also the messiest.
“How was your day?” she asked when she finished her diced chicken and rice.
He held a finger up as he slurped the last of the pasta and cleaned his mouth quickly before he answered.
“Well, we ran into a couple of new plants that look like they might have flowers similar to the pita plants, so I already made a point to take as many samples as I could. There’s always a chance that it might prove to be something similar to the fluid sacs of the big critters,” Sal said. He spoke quickly and paused only to take a quick sip of water from his canteen. “You know, an added revenue stream out here or something.”
“Oh, I know,” Courtney said and grimaced as she remembered that she’d very recently had to cut one of those sacs out of the massive creature.
“Aside from that and the rescue of our new unwilling team member—” Sal did what Kennedy and Young couldn’t and kept his voice down when he mentioned Gregor. “It was fairly standard. No more animal attacks, although from what our Russian friend told us about how he got stranded, it seems like the combined hyena and panther attacks that we saw ourselves back there has become more and more prevalent.”
“Did you—”
“Oh, I already noted it down as something of interest for further review,” he said with a laugh. “If it’s something that could help us and others survive trips into this place, do you think I won’t at least put some thought into studying it?”
She chuckled softly. “I guess not.”
“And how was your day?” He set his plate and utensils aside for recycling. “Did you find anything interesting?”
“Not really?” Courtney said, but she ended the sentence like a question and her face scrunched into a frown. “I saw a couple of interesting things out there, don’t get me wrong, but once the team knew where to find Pita bushes, they basically lost focus on everything else. There’s no assurance of money from the research, and what they do get will be split with the rest of the teams. The bounty money isn’t split—or it is, but between fewer people—so that was what they focused on all day.”
“You guys cleaned the bushes out then?” Sal asked.
“It’s actually a little scary how fast these guys can strip these plants down,” she acknowledged with a small smile and a tilt of her head. “Well, impressive too, I guess.”
He nodded with a chuckle. “Most of the folk are here to make money, so are you really surprised that they put that ahead of the research and the wonders of this place?”
“Not really,” Courtney admitted. “It still annoys me, though. Don’t they understand that what we research here could mean a lot more money in the long run?”
“I think they do,” Sal said, “although they probably also know that they don’t see a hot dime of that money themselves.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she agreed softly, and he smiled as he turned to look at the rest of the squad. Finished with their dinner, Kennedy and Young had resumed their argument over what they should do about the Russian, although they at least tried to keep their voices down this time. Kennedy glanced at him and gave Courtney an almost venomous look before she turned to Young once more. Sal frowned and wondered what that was about.
“How much did you guys collect?” he asked.
Monroe seemed distracted and dropped back into the conversation with a somewhat startled look. “Huh? What?”
“How many sets of the Pita flowers did you guys collect?” he asked again.
“Oh…twenty sets,” she replied with a nod. “A pretty good haul by all estimations.”
“Damn good haul,” he said with a chuckle.
“You guys really need to tell me what you did to enable you to track these plants down,” she said. “I mean, I understand that you want to keep it a secret from the people who run the Staging Area since this is something of a meal ticket, but since I’m part of Heavy Metal now, doesn’t that mean that I get to know about it too?”
He nodded. “I’ll fill you in on the details later when we get back to base. It was mostly luck anyway. I’m surprised that you guys didn’t find out about it sooner.”
“Well, we didn’t, so I’ll hold you to that promise to share with the rest of the class,” she said, and he chuckled with real amusement as he leaned back. He could enter the conversation with Kennedy and perhaps apply his brains to find a solution to their Russian problem.
For the moment, though, he was done. He needed rest and time to think. It had been a long day, and he didn’t want to watch Kennedy and Young go at it again with increasing intensity.
Sal pushed himself from his seat and moved to where Gregor had situated himself. Courtney’s eyes followed him for a long moment before she turned away, shook her head, and moved to where she’d set up her space in the camp.
“Hey,” Sal said. “How are you holding up?”
Gregor shrugged. “As well as can be expected. Your two commanders seem to be at odds about what to do about me.”
“Well, can you blame them?” Sal asked and raised an eyebrow. “You’re a bit of a wrench in this whole operation.”
“Wrench?” he asked, his head tilted in frank confusion.
“Oh…we’re out here to do some research, and there’s only so much research we can do if we take you back home,” he explained with a smile. “Not that we won’t get you back to your base, of course, but it’ll take a while to get past all the greed. These are good people, I promise.”
The Russian nodded. “I take your word for it. And thank you again for saving my life.”
“We can only hope that you would have done the same for us, Gregor,” Sal said with a smile. He dragged a sleeping bag across the ground and handed it to the Russian. “For now, though, you might want to get some rest. It will be a long day for you tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Okay people, listen up!” Young called.
Sal narrowed his eyes. Normally, he would make some sort of crack that the sun was too bright for him
to be awake, but he hadn’t slept well the night before. He had thought that his offer to turn his sleeping bag and tent over to Gregor had been a noble gesture. While it might have been that, there was also the small problem that it left him without anywhere to camp. He’d applied his impressive intellect to that for most of the night, but it had mostly ended with him snatching a couple of dozing naps which were quickly interrupted by someone’s snores, eerie shrieks from inside the jungle, or merely the very real discomfort of sleeping in his armor.
It wasn’t that uncomfortable under normal circumstances, but when he was stuck in it overnight, there was a lot to hate.
They all had breakfast, and Sal had raided the instant coffee stores after he’d found a reliable water source about fifteen paces from where they had set up camp. He felt vaguely human, although he couldn’t promise that he’d be able to maintain the charade indefinitely.
“Since we’re close enough to the Staging Area, we decided that it’s pointless to hike all the way across the Zoo to get someone there on foot,” Young said once everyone was armored and ready move. “We’ve come away with a fairly decent haul, so Kennedy suggested that we take what we have already and head back with Gregor. I’ll accompany him and carry his suit for good measure.”
Sal nodded. It was a step up from calling him the Russian, which was what Young had seemed to insist on doing every time he mentioned the man. Sal could see Gregor smirk, which told him that he appreciated the change in tone. The specialist knew that Kennedy had offered to let Young take their haul and split it between themselves.
“Nobody is told to do anything, though,” Young continued. “This will be on a volunteer basis. I’ll lead the team heading back to the Staging Area, and Kennedy will lead the team that stays out for the remainder of the five days. We’ll still need a specialist on each team, and since I assume Jacobs will stay with Kennedy, that means that Dr. Monroe will come with me.”
Sal saw Courtney grit her teeth and look away. There was something different about her. She acted strangely like she now looked more to him for direction than before. He wasn’t sure that he disliked it, but it was certainly something he would have to get used to. Later.
Their haul from the single Pita plant had been enough to make up for anybody’s cut in pay for the trip, so the split was fairly even. Ito and Carson chose to stay with Sal and Kennedy and try for another, similarly large haul while Sousa agreed to head to the Staging Area with Gregor, Young, and Monroe.
“You’d think that this would be my dream,” Courtney told Sal with a smile. “To head to the Staging Area early with a huge haul, but there were a lot of things out there that I wanted to study.”
“Plants and animals too?” he asked with a small grin.
She blushed. “I didn’t think I was that obvious. But yeah, you’ve helped me cope, and I’d like to find out how you do it so I don’t constantly find myself in trouble.”
Sal nodded. “I…don’t actually know what to say to that,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But take care of yourself, and take care of my pal Gregor.” He raised his voice so the man would hear him. "I’ll see you in four days. Or not, because we’re in a dangerous place full of hostile plants and animals and we might all die before then.”
“Don’t even joke about it,” Courtney growled and punched him softly in his power function arm. “I’ll see you in four days.”
Sal grinned. The team heading to the Staging Area was the first to leave, which meant that it was up to the rest of them to pack up. He realized that Madigan gave him the odd funny look too.
“What’s up, Kennedy?” he asked with a quizzical expression as he lifted his share of the packs and attached them to his armor.
“Nothing much, Jacobs,” she responded but averted her gaze quickly and busied herself with her own packs. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” Sal retorted. “I’ll simply look at you with an accusatory and confused expression…oh, no, wait, that’s you.”
“You’re talking crazy,” she said dismissively and now avoided eye contact with him altogether.
“Sure,” he said with a chuckle.
“If you two are done squabbling,” Ito said and rested her rifle against her shoulder, “I think we have some ground to cover before you pull pigtails and yank shorts down.”
“Come on, we’re not in seventh grade anymore,” Sal said with a chuckle.
“You did that shit in seventh grade?” Ito asked and raised an eyebrow.
“I skipped second, third, fourth and sixth grades, so yes, I was the only nine-year-old in my seventh-grade class,” Sal said and tried not to make it sound like he was bragging. It wasn’t like these people actually appreciated the work that it took for him to do that anyway. “Either way, I think she has some residual angry talk left over from her argument with Young. It’s best that she gets it out her system now than have it stew in her brain all day until she explodes on one of us when we don’t set the heating plates up right.”
“That’s very insightful, Jacobs,” Kennedy snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “But if you just go ahead and shut up and then fuck yourself, that’d be great.”
“Do you think we have time?” Sal looked around. “I mean, I know we should probably move and explore, but I’ll be quick. Help me get out of my armor and—” He stopped talking since he couldn’t keep a straight face while she flipped him off. Even so, his words had the desired effect, and she had a hard time keeping a straight face as Carson and Ito laughed.
“I can help you get your armor off, but only if you give the whole team a show, Jacobs,” Ito said with a chuckle.
“As quick as you are, Jacobs, I really don’t think we have the time to watch you fumble with your armor like you’ve been dumped at the prom dance,” Kennedy muttered as they pushed deeper into the jungle. Without having to adjust to someone out of armor, they were able to maintain a much better pace than they had the day before.
“I never actually got to go to my prom,” Sal said and checked his weapon before he disengaged the rifle.
“Why, getting ready for a Mathletics competition?” Ito asked.
“Of course not,” Sal snapped. “It was a chess tournament. Mathletics is for losers.”
“Whereas we all know that chess captains are swimming in potang,” Carson said with a grin.
“First of all, nobody says that anymore,” Sal retorted. “Secondly, that’s not what I mean. Theoretical stuff never appealed to me as much as something where I could get my hands dirty and actually be in the middle of the whole thing. It’s why I picked biology as my major instead of theoretical physics. Those were the two most challenging fields I could think of that didn’t involve me in a hospital wearing scrubs.”
“So, if you had been more into not getting your hands dirty, you might be cooped up in some university-run lab watching reruns of Big Bang Theory?” Ito asked.
“The horrible knowledge that there’s a version of me in an alternate universe doing precisely that keeps me awake some nights,” he said with a nod. “Well, mornings, since that’s when I’m actually asleep.”
The conversation stopped abruptly when something hurtled out of the bushes and charged at them with a high-pitched hiss that made Sal’s ears hurt. It wasn’t particularly tall, but it was long and curled like a snake. The creature moved rapidly over the ground on dozens of small legs like a centipede. The head was definitely reptile-like, though, and as it attacked, the sides of its head flared, its jaw extended, and a foul-smelling liquid jetted out at Carson, who was the closest.
“Get down!” Sal yelled. He didn’t recognize the creature, but he’d seen enough of the Zoo creatures to know that Carson would not want that liquid to touch any part of him or his armor.
The man did get down as Kennedy and Ito fired simultaneously, but a heavy glob of the acid still struck him in the chest.
“Fuck!” Sal scrambled forward quickly. He realized that there was a downside to the hybridity of his armor�
�restoring it to combat mode wasn’t as instinctual as he had hoped. Either way, it didn’t matter. Even though the pieces of the animal that had been severed still moved as if they worked independently without the need for a head, Kennedy and Ito could handle it.
The liquid that had come in contact with Carson’s armor immediately smoked and released an acrid smell. Sal yanked his water canteen out—recently filled, thank goodness—and poured it over the armor. His plan was to wash the acid away quickly before it could reach the electronics and, more importantly, Carson himself.
He wondered if he was a bad person if his first thought was to save the armor instead of the man. The answer that came first was probably. He took an acid-resistant microfiber rag from his pouch and dabbed it over all the spots that still smoked, then continued until there were no more signs of the acid on the suit.
“What’s the prognosis?” Carson asked. Despite the fact that he obviously tried to keep his voice as steady as possible, Sal was close enough to hear the slightest tremble. He didn’t make any mention of it, though. Honestly, he couldn’t think of a worse way to go than by acid that seeped through armor you couldn’t get out of.
“It looks like the metal plate has warped a little,” Sal said quickly as he continued to wipe the rag over the cracks in the armor. “How do you feel? Any itching or burning? Anywhere? And before you answer that, please keep all STD humor off the table until we’re sure that you’re all right.”
Carson opened his mouth, probably with something along the lines of how it still burned when he peed on his mind since he shut it again quickly.
“No, no burn and no itch,” he said finally. “Not of the acid variety, anyway.”
“Kennedy, Ito, is that thing dead yet?” Sal asked as he examined the structure of the plate as rapidly as possible.