Cut Off

by Robertson, Edward W.

  "But you're not affiliated with the survivors who destroyed the jet?" she said.

  "Whoever they are, they're all the way out in New Jersey or something. Wouldn't recognize one of them if they knocked me down in the street. That's the deal, isn't it? The Swimmers—the aliens—they still got jets, networks, communications. For them, the world's still small; they ain't back in the Middle Ages just yet. The rest of us, though? We don't have the faintest idea what's going on beyond the horizon."

  Tristan nodded vaguely, fighting through a sudden patch of swells. "Mighty noble of you to fight a war when the people you save will never know they were in danger."

  "I was never too concerned about saving anyone," the man said. "If you want to build statues, start with Sebastian. And his friends who died along the way."

  "I have this feeling I've seen you before," Tristan said after a moment. "But I think I would remember if I'd bumped into a guy with an alien sidekick."

  Tired though the man who'd introduced himself as Ness claimed to be, he paddled hard. They made good time up the coast. When they arrived, Tristan drove the canoe right up the beach until it crunched into the sand. The alien stood on its own power, walking with the careful stiffness of a creature pained by each motion.

  Ness took the tablet from it and used the light to scout the first length of the tube. He returned and exchanged gestures with Sebastian, then turned to Tristan. "We'd like to make the climb without using any light. If one of them happens to be coming our way, we can't afford to let them get the drop on us."

  She nodded. "How's he doing?"

  "He's not getting any less shot. Let's get a move on."

  Before starting up, she stripped a switch from a tree to carry before her in the darkness—it would be obvious enough if she stepped from the spongy path, but she wanted to keep up a good pace, and wasn't keen on bashing her face into a wall if she strayed off course. The tunnel was warm and silent. She soon left all light behind. Ness and the alien scraped along behind her. Even with the switch to wave in front of her, it was beyond unnerving to walk at full speed in pure darkness, but she had no choice. Not if the alien was to live. She didn't blame herself for shooting it—it was an alien, and until that morning, it had been Tristan's experience that the beings were 100% hostile—but having it as a resource would be a tremendous advantage.

  Beyond that, she felt touched by Ness' affection for the creature. They had just met, and she felt a certain amount of scorn for her own sentimentality, but she didn't want to be the reason that was taken away from him.

  She stiffened her spine, closed her eyes, and let the switch lead the way up the tunnels.

  Ness called the first rest after they passed the first fork in the tunnel. She assented and crouched down. She didn't bother to ask how the alien was doing—if it was fine, they wouldn't have to stop. It had done well so far, though, and Ness said he was ready to move not five minutes later.

  Tristan breathed shallowly, ears sharp for any sound from ahead. Her sense of time was extremely poor, but they couldn't have been walking for half as long as the first leg when Ness requested the next stop.

  "Any idea how much further?" he murmured.

  "Tough to say."

  "In other words, a long ways."

  "Take the time you need," she said. "Is it thirsty?"

  "We've got water."

  She nodded into the darkness. "One step at a time, right?"

  It was some minutes before they were ready to continue. Tristan slowed her pace, but in no time at all, the taps and slaps of the alien's steps were reduced to sloughing. Abruptly, they quit altogether. Light flared behind her. Ness had lit up his tablet and was using its bluish radiance to sign to the alien, which had seated itself on the orange, its limbs poking up like a collapsed tent. Yellow fluid seeped from the tentacles coiled around its chest.

  "Everything all right?" she said.

  Ness continued his silent conversation, then knelt beside Sebastian. "It's done," he said, voice breaking. "This is as far as he gets."

  "What if we helped him walk?"

  "What do you think I've been doing?"

  She ran her thumb beneath the strap of her rifle, the switch dangling from her other hand. "Can we drag him?"

  Ness gestured with the alien, then said, "We can try. He's heavier than he looks."

  "We can do this. Tell him to grab my belt."

  Ness passed along her message and the alien unrolled a tentacle. She pulled her belt out from her hip and it threaded its limb through. The tentacle was muscular, tongue-like. She repressed a shudder. Ness entwined his arms with the creature's and leaned forward. Tristan bent her legs and strained uphill. The alien was much weightier than she expected, and the rubbery ground resisted every inch they took. They had hardly gotten twenty feet up the tunnel before she and Ness staggered to a stop, chests heaving. He bent forward and planted his palms on his knees, gasping through his clenched teeth.

  "Give me the tablet and one of your lasers," she said.

  "What for?"

  "So I can get inside." She pointed at the ceiling. "I'm going for help."

  "Got friends in the alien fortress, do you? Or are you running off before I can think to pay you back for what you've done?"

  "You can shoot me and make sure your friend dies here. Or you can trust me and find out if he's got a future."

  Ness eyed her, then took a pistol from Sebastian's bandoliers and extended it to her, along with the tablet. "If you run and he dies, I don't give a damn about the virus. I'll be coming straight for you."

  "Deal. Now if we're done threatening each other, I've got shit to do."

  She turned and ran up the tunnel at the fastest speed she could maintain, the tablet's weak light barely illuminating her next step. Without the wounded alien to slow her, she reached the next fork in a flash and pounded up the spiral ramp. At the top, she pressed her ear against the door, heard nothing, and fired a quick shot into the door. It slumped away from its frame, pouring daylight into the caverns.

  The gardens on the other side held nothing more than a welcome breeze. She followed the curve of the perimeter to the room housing the captives and shot open the door. She kicked it to the side and rushed in, pistol ready. Seeing nothing, she swung the door shut and moved down the rows of orange boxes.

  The next step hinged on having control from the beginning. Any dissent or cracks in her authority and they would never agree to her commands. She leapt up the side of a box, hauled herself to its top, and moved along the row, counting down. Two boxes past the one that had housed Robi, she fired at the lid and hauled the fleshy material aside. Below, Lewis' pale face blinked up at her.

  "Surprise," she said. "I'm here to get you out. There's just one—"

  He snarled and grabbed her ankle, yanking her from the ledge. Her butt struck the top edge of the box, jarring her spine; she tumbled down, tucking her chin to her chest to protect her neck. She landed on her back with a heavy but painless thud.

  He stomped her wrist, dislodging the pistol she'd hung onto during the fall. "I think it's time we switched places."

  She rocked on her back and snapped her heel into his knee. He staggered sideways, taking his foot from her wrist, then kicked his bare toes at her ribs. She tried to roll away and banged into the clammy wall. His foot connected, knocking the breath from her lungs. Between the dimness of the box and the jolt of the fall, she barely saw the heel being driven toward her face. She pulled her head down and to the side and took the kick on her ear instead. She bounced against the wall, pressing herself against it for traction as she popped to her feet. Lewis was already crouched over the pistol. He stood, leveled it at her, and pushed the button.

  Nothing happened.

  His index finger was wrapped around the handle, covering the first trigger-button, but his thumb was on the back of the gun, leaving the second button exposed. "What the fuck?"

  He clicked it again. Tristan pivoted to her left, hooking a punch at his inner forea
rm, meanwhile slamming the heel of her left hand into the back of his arm. Both her hands landed at once, her palm holding his arm in place while her fist smashed home. His hand jarred open, the pistol sailing to the side. Lewis pulled back his arm with a shout. While he was busy clutching it to his chest, she threw a straight punch at his nose. She felt it shift beneath her knuckles but wasn't certain it had broken.

  While he was reeling, she grabbed the laser from the corner of the room, gave him a pitying look, and pressed both buttons. A blue line punched into his chest. He gasped, trying to scream, but the air was being ionized in his lungs. The box filled with the sweet stink of charred meat. Lewis staggered against the wall. She shot him in the head.

  There was no need to check for a pulse. She stood over him a minute, catching her breath and ensuring her ribs were all right, then pocketed the gun and pulled herself out. She dragged the lid back over the top and sealed Lewis in his coffin.

  She went box to box, opening lids, helping the men and women inside to climb out. Each time, she directed them to the back of the room and gave them a brief spiel about staying quiet and still. Two-thirds of the containers were empty, but by the time she'd finished, she'd extracted twelve subjects. The last one didn't wake up when she opened the lid, or when she called down to him.

  "You," she said, beckoning an athletic young woman from the watching prisoners. "What's your name?"

  "Georgia." The woman washed the fear from her face. "What do you need?"

  "A hand getting this one out. He's injured." She gestured to two of the men. "Get up here. We'll hand him up to you."

  The three conscripts helped each other to the top of the orange boxes. Tristan dropped inside, followed by Georgia. The man lying before them was Asian, drenched in perspiration, and missing his right leg from above the knee. The bandage looked fresh. He didn't wake as they lifted him to the two men above.

  Once they had him safely to the ground, Tristan assembled the escapees near the front of the room. "Here's the deal. I'm about to lead you out of here. But before we go, we need to find a cart. Anything with wheels. Failing that, a sledge."

  "For him?" Georgia said, jerking her chin at the man with the missing leg.

  Tristan shook her head. "There's an alien. In the tunnels. It's too hurt to move, but it's vital we get it up here."

  Georgia glanced at the other prisoners. "For study?"

  "It's not hostile—it's an ally. And it's going to help us destroy this place."

  Most looked unnerved, but Georgia didn't miss a beat. "Be right back."

  She jogged out the back door into the hallway. Tristan was inclined to follow, but remained with the refugees. "Is anyone here from Hana?"

  The others exchanged looks. One of the two men who'd helped her bring out the wounded man stepped forward. "I'm Zach. I've lived in Hana fifteen years."

  "Perfect. You know Papa Ohe'o?"

  "Who doesn't?"

  "The tunnel leads straight down to the beach near the Sacred Pools. Get to Papa Ohe'o as fast as you can. Tell him to get weapons and bring everyone he can back up here."

  Zach touched the stubble on his scalp. "To do what? I thought we were getting out of here."

  "Can't do that just yet," she said. "There's a new plague."

  "A new plague?" another man said. "That's why they brought us here, isn't it? Are we infected?"

  "If you were infected, you'd already be dead. I need Papa O'heo's help to seize this place before the aliens can set the virus loose."

  Georgia appeared from the back door pushing a metal gurney, its wheels rumbling lowly. "This do the job?"

  Tristan gave her a thumbs up and moved to the front of the room. She left the prisoners inside while she had a quick look around the garden, then beckoned them out and led them along the curve of the wall, then into the doorway housing the ramp to the lava tube.

  "My friend's down the tunnel with the alien," she said. "Follow my light and you'll be fine."

  She tapped on the tablet until it glowed, then moved down the tube at a brisk walk. None of the others had shoes, but after so long locked in the orange, they voiced no complaint about walking on the alien surface.

  "Who are you?" Georgia asked after they'd descended a few hundred yards.

  "Nobody."

  "What kind of nobody puts their ass on the line for a bunch of total strangers?"

  "Someone who isn't too fond of schemes to eradicate humanity." She gave the woman a wry look. "Anyway, I'm not here for you."

  The prisoners looked rickety, but they still had their strength, padding along behind her. It wasn't long before Ness' voice floated up from down the tunnel. "Tristan?"

  "Who else?"

  "You tell me. Sounds like you found a herd of elephants!"

  She drew close enough to silhouette him with the light of the tablet. "The squids were kind enough to assemble an army for us. Just add freedom."

  He laughed, walking toward them. "Is that a gurney?"

  One of the woman saw Sebastian and gasped. "Is it dead?"

  Ness took the gurney from Georgia and wheeled it beside Sebastian. Already gesturing at the creature, he said, "Not yet."

  "Here's what happens next," Tristan announced. "We load up the alien and head back up top. We get you some guns. And we hold down the fort until reinforcements arrive."

  They stared at her, eyes glowing with the light of the tablet. Wordless, a man snatched it from her hand and raced down the tunnel.

  "Stop!" Tristan shouted. Others streamed past her, shadows in the fading light. She raised her gun but knew that pulling the trigger couldn't turn them around. She could do nothing but watch as her army melted away into the darkness.

  28

  Crouched over Sebastian, Ness was plunged into blackness. He looked up sharply. "Did you tell them to do that?"

  "Yes, I told my troops to abandon us," Tristan said from somewhere downslope. "Zach! Zach!"

  "I saw him go running with the others," a woman said.

  "How many of you are still here? Count off, starting with Georgia."

  "One," the woman said.

  "Two," two men said simultaneously. One amended, "Three."

  There wasn't a four. Tristan began swearing, arguing with one of the men. Ness signed into the darkness, "Can you stand? Or am I going to have to roll you onto this thing?"

  In response, Sebastian tapped him on the arm twice, the signal for yes. Tentacles rustled. Metal creaked. Ness moved forward blindly, hands out before him, until he touched the hard surface of one of Sebastian's thorax plates. He pushed up, steadying Sebastian's weight as the alien settled himself on the gurney.

  "Hey Tristan," Ness called over the bickering, "give me a hand here?"

  "You can't be serious," she said.

  "About saving my friend from bleeding to death?" He leaned against the gurney, its wheels whining. "Comin' through."

  "There's five of us and how many of them? Thirty? Forty?"

  "As of the last census."

  "The guy who was supposed to bring our backup lit out, too. We have no idea if he's coming back. The only thing that makes sense is for us to get outside, gather as many of the locals as we can, and then make our strike."

  "I don't have time for this." Ness pushed the gurney past her voice. Feet shuffled out of the way. "Do whatever your inside star tells you. My path is clear."

  He rolled onward, correcting the cart's path whenever he felt its wheels slip off the orange track and grate against the stone on the shoulder. The others listened to him go, then began to argue, their low, urgent tones bouncing after him. Ness realized he didn't know where he was going and the only way he could generate light would be to fire a laser into the wall, but this thought rested on his mind like oil in water, unable to emulsify with the folds of his brain. It didn't matter that most of the volunteer army had abruptly un-volunteered. The woman had come back and opened a road forward. All Ness had to do was follow the Way.

  He dug his toes into the rubbery
floor, advancing one step after another, the only way he knew how. After a minute, footsteps closed on him from behind.

  "You really mean to fight them by yourself?" Tristan said.

  "I mean to patch up Sebastian," he said over his shoulder. The left wheels veered onto the rocky floor and he wrestled the gurney back onto the carpet of organic matter. "Without him, it's only a matter of time before these sons of bitches unleash the virus."

  "And if they come for us?"

  He shrugged to himself. "Then trust that we'll figure something out."

  "Trust you?" she laughed. "I just met you. And your best friend's an alien."

  "What do your guts have to say about it?"

  Her feet swept up beside him. The gurney's weight grew lighter; she was helping to push. "That this is crazy."

  "Just crazy enough to work." He chuckled, feeling inexplicably light. "Always wanted to say that."

  They pushed on, the three others following behind them. Tristan got one of the men to replace her and jogged ahead to scout for the turn to the ramp. Getting the gurney up it was a bitch and a half and left Ness sweating and feeling hemmed in by the tightness of the turns. Tristan pulled open a door, spilling sunlight over them. Under the harsh noon light, Sebastian wasn't moving.

  "Still with me?" Ness signed.

  Sebastian lifted one tentacle. "I am here."

  Pistol in hand, Tristan trotted down the circular path around the outside of the profuse garden and its riotous fruits and blooms. The next room she led them into was one Ness recognized: the pens where he and Sprite had been held by the aliens.

  "Holy shit, that's Sprite." Ness stopped, gawking at the unconscious man lying beside the front of the orange boxes. "Thought he died in the assault."

  "I assume he had both legs then?" Tristan said.

  He gave her a look. "He threw down his life so we could get out. I won't leave him here again."

  "I'm not stopping you. Right now I need to secure this place the best we can."