V: The Florida Project

by Tim Sullivan

  "Look at that cypress tree," he said.

  "Which one?"

  "The big one in the middle, on the bank with those other cypresses."

  Marie squinted again, and then she saw it. "The trunk is burned."

  "In a couple of places. This is where they took Stern and Devereaux. I'd put money on it."

  They moved closer to the trees.

  "They must have come from this direction," Ham said, Pointing past the embankment. "From deep in the swamp."

  "People don't go in there," Marie said. "They never have."

  "Sounds ominous," Ham responded. "Why don't they go that way?"

  "It's very treacherous, a lot of dead wood to snag you, thick with 'gators, diamondbacks, you name it. If it's bad, it's in there."

  "Just the place for our slimy friends to hang out."

  "Yeah, I guess it would be easier for them to stay hidden back there, all right," Marie said. "But how could they survive in such a place?"

  "Are you kidding? To those erect lizards, it's probably just like Miami Beach," Ham said, fishing two abandoned laser guns out of the water.

  John Tiger set his paddle against the huge banyan root protruding from the water and pushed off. He knew the rest of the fallen tree was under there, and he had no desire to have the bottom of his canoe ripped out by another root.

  He hoped the two CIA men were off in some other part of the swamp, because he suspected that Marie and Martin were with them. He didn't want them anywhere near this place, now more than ever. If the Visitors were here, there would be a way to deal with them, and he didn't want a girl and an old man around to mess things up.

  Passing within three yards of a 'gator sunning itself on a log, lohn stopped paddling. From here on in, he didn't want to nuke a sound. He remembered once when he and Billy were kids, ten or twelve years ago, they took a canoe in here. The old man had spanked the shit out of them because it was so dangerous. Because of that, neither of them had ever come back here, even as men. But John recalled one big mud flat stretching for hundreds of yards. He suspected that was where the alien encampment would be.

  If he remembered correctly, it was right around here. John parted some fronds, and there it was.

  Gleaming white towers rose out of the mud, connecting walls on which sentries walked back and forth. He couldn't see them clearly from here, but they were wearing red uniforms. on the towers, machines were pointed toward the sky. Trees seemed to be floating in the air, an illusion created by projections from the machines.

  The Visitors had paved over the mud flat and built their compound here. Tyler was right.

  John watched them for a while, trying to decide what to do. Should he wait until nightfall, break in, and try to find his brother? Or should he go back and get reinforcements?

  He backed the canoe out of the narrow space between a dead tree and a muddy bank when one of the fronds burst into flame, it sputtered and went out, leaving only the charred tip of the stem.

  John started paddling, the high-pitched whine of lasers all around him. They were firing at him from the towers, so they had a long way to go before they caught up with him. He sliced through the water, heart beating wildly.

  Between strokes, he began to hear a low hum. He glanced over his shoulder to see a Visitor coming after him on an antigravity disk. No, not just one disk, three or four. In a moment, the sky would be full of them.

  As the first one drew near, John leaped out of the canoe and dodged the laser fire. The mud at his feet bubbled, but he didn't even slow down.

  If he could get to where the foliage was so thick they couldn't see him, he had a chance.

  The Visitor's shadow was right next to him as he ran, blue beams missing him narrowly. The other Visitors were way behind this eager beaver. If he could ditch this one, he was pretty sure he could make it.

  He felt the heat of an energy beam that passed within an inch of his face. Nevertheless, he slowed his pace. He heard the Visitor's lizard tongue click in satisfaction.

  John looked over his shoulder to see the disk coming lower. Suddenly, he sprinted forward into the shade of an enormous banyan tree.

  The Visitor changed direction to follow him, failing to see the thick limb that hit him in the head. John heard him gasp, and then a splash. But he never looked back to see his fallen foe.

  He just kept running into the thickets, deeper and deeper into the swamp.

  Chapter 21

  Soon after Jack and T.J. were back in their cells, the Visitors came and dragged them both out and down a long corridor. At last a key was inserted, a door slid open, and they were breathing fresh air for the first time in days.

  "Gonna feed us to the 'gators," T.J. said, "or eat us themselves?"

  Jack caught a glimpse of what looked like a theater. Row on row of curving seats rose almost to the top of the walls. They were filled with Visitors, hundreds of them without human makeup.

  T.J. was pushed forward into the arena, but the door slammed shut and Jack was roughly pulled away. He was dragged up a ramp, at the end of which was a cubicle with a one-way pane of glass looking out onto the arena. He saw T.J., looking bewildered, standing near one wall.

  A niche opened behind him, and a Visitor stepped out. He held out T.J.'s .38, holster and all. T.J. accepted it, examined it quickly, and strapped the gun belt onto his ample middle.

  The crowd clucked and hissed and then became subdued, as if anticipating something.

  At the far end of the arena, a door opened from the bottom. Jack saw nothing at first, but then he caught a movement in the shadows. Something emerged that was like a nightmare come to life.

  "No!" Jack gasped. They had put T.J. in the arena with a monster. The thing stood eight or nine feet tall on its hind legs. Its hands and feet were huge, clawed talons, its skin scaly and thick like armor plating.

  Its face was horrible. A long snout with teeth like yellow spikes protruded from a cranium that was shaped like a man's. The eyes were unmistakably human, though set back on the horny, saurian head. They glared malevolently at T.J. now, the creature advancing across the dusty arena floor, its eight-foot tail lashing behind it.

  T.J. was frozen to the spot where he had first set eyes on the monstrous reptile man. He wondered if they had really brought him here, or if he were still lying asleep in his cell, dreaming.

  The crowd began to roar and cheer as though they were Romans at the Circus Maximus. Jack watched them through the one-way glass with such hatred and contempt that he almost didn't see Sabrina for a moment.

  She was there in the stands with two other humans—at least, they looked like humans. Two middle-aged men sat on either side of her, one balding, the other white-haired and bearded. As the beast man closed in on T.J., Sabrina buried her face in her hands.

  At least he knew she was alive—and he was near her.

  "Most ingenious, don't you agree?" Dr. Morrow asked. "We have successfully combined the genetic materials of a human and a swamp-dwelling, amphibious reptile. Dr. Thorkel was instrumental in achieving the magnificent result of the recombinant DNA experiment you see before you."

  Sabrina looked away. "It's horrible," she said.

  "I had hoped you would say that."

  "How could you help to produce such a hideous thing?" Sabrina asked Dr. Thorkel.

  "Dr. Fontaine," Thorkel protested weakly, "nothing like this has ever been done on Earth before. Surely you can see that—"

  That you are a traitor to the human race," she spat. "Yes, I can see that, all right."

  "Come, come," Dr. Morrow said, "let us watch the spectacle now."

  T.J. had seen 'gators before, but this was like something that might show up after a toot on half a gallon of bad moonshine. He wanted to believe it wasn't real, but the dust and sweat in his mouth, the sun beating down on the back of his neck, the heft of the .38 in his hand all told him it was.

  Well, at least he had the gun. 'Gators had been shot to death by pistols before. He wished to God he had
a good rifle, because he was going to have to let that ugly sucker get awful close before he dared waste any ammunition on it.

  "Come on, you son of a bitch," T.J. said. "Come a little closer." His damp fingers flipped the safety off and cocked the hammer. "Just come on."

  The monster opened its enormous jaws and howled a terrible challenge that was neither human nor reptile, but a hellish combination of the two.

  The short hairs on the back of T.J.'s neck stood on end. He didn't want it near him. He had six shots; maybe if he fired one, he would scare it away even if he missed.

  Feet spread wide apart, T.J. gripped the revolver firmly in both hands. He let the thing come a little bit closer until he was certain he had drawn a bead on it. He aimed for the middle of its chest. That way, he'd almost certainly hit one or more of the vital organs.

  T.J. squeezed off a shot, his beefy arms jerking back. The deafening roar of the pistol shut out the sound of the audience.

  The monster moved spasmodically but remained standing.

  "Good shot, ole boy," T.J. congratulated himself.

  He waited for it to fall, but then, with growing alarm, he saw what had happened. There was a dent in the armor-plated breast of the creature, nothing more. The bullet hadn't even penetrated its thick hide, let alone struck a vital organ.

  The monster looked down at the insignificant mark on its massive chest and then threw back its head and roared.

  As it began moving toward T.J. once more, the crowd cheered enthusiastically.

  Chapter 22

  "You've proven your point," Dr. Thorkel said, "it's impervious to gunfire. Don't you think it's time to put a stop to this carnival?"

  Sabrina looked at Thorkel in surprise. Perhaps he saw the truth at last.

  "Please don't be squeamish, Dr. Thorkel," said Dr. Morrow. "We have only learned how strong its armor is. Now we'll see how efficient it is at killing."

  "No!" Sabrina cried. "Please don't do this."

  But Dr. Morrow turned his attention back to the two figures below as the crowd hissed its approval.

  This time T.J. waited until the thing was closer before firing. He aimed for the head. When he was sure he couldn't miss, he shot the creature for the second time.

  The reptile man's head snapped back. Involuntarily holding his breath, T.J. waited for it to fall. It rolled its head back and forth on its thick neck, staggered, but then threw its shoulders back and emitted a staccato sound that might have been laughter.

  "I hit that goddamn thing flush in the skull," T.J. muttered.

  The monster started toward him again from not more than four yards away. T.J. knew that his only chance was to shoot out its eyes. That was going to take some fancy shooting.

  Suddenly the monster's speed increased. It rushed T.J. just like a 'gator on two legs. He fired at its belly, just to give himself a chance to move out of its way.

  T.J.'s ankle turned and he slammed into the dusty ground. Rolling over, he saw the scaly thing changing direction to pounce on him. It opened its mouth to roar, and he fired.

  The bullet struck the soft tissue on the roof its mouth. The monster shrieked horribly, its clawed hands cupping its snout in a very human gesture.

  Getting off the ground hurt his ankle, but T.J. managed it. He ran toward the opposite wall. There were two bullets left in his revolver. He would have to make them count.

  The reptile man shook its massive head, blood streaming from its jaws. Apparently the bullet had only effected a flesh wound.

  Two bullets left. He had to hit it in the eye at least once or he was finished. There was still a chance he could blind the thing, but even one bullet might be enough if it went through the eye and penetrated the brain. The monster charged at him. T.J. had never wanted to get away from something so badly in his entire life, but he stood his ground nevertheless.

  It was less than the length of T.J.'s shadow away, perhaps five feet, when he fired his fifth shot. It ricocheted off the bony ridge just over its left eye, enraging it even further.

  It rushed at him headfirst, its flailing tail sending up clouds of dust behind it.

  T.J. waited until he could smell its fetid stench, and still he didn't shoot. Its huge, webbed talons reached out for him, but its head was still down. T.J. couldn't get a shot at either eye.

  Despairing, he still didn't squeeze the trigger. The monster seized him by the waist and lifted him bodily off the ground.

  "Jesus," he moaned. It wasn't a curse, but a prayer. He felt his ribs cracking, heard his bones breaking, and knew he was going to die. All he wanted now was to take this horror with him.

  The crowd's wildly enthusiastic cheers rang in his ears as he lilted the pistol painfully toward the monster's head.

  It turned its head to get a better look at him, the humanoid eye on the right side of its lumpy cranium blinking.

  Now. T.J. lifted his hand the last few inches, his fingers numb and trembling. Now.

  The grotesque creature hurled him onto the arena floor. T.J. landed in bone-crushing pain, and yet he somehow still gripped the pistol.

  He tried to crawl away as the beast's right claw reached out for him, but his body wouldn't respond to his will. Was his spine broken?

  The talons grasped him by the throat and pulled him off the ground. T.J. tasted hot blood in his mouth. He became dizzy, white motes dancing in front of his eyes. Darkness was coming, but he could still lift his arm, however slowly.

  Now the monster faced him straight on as it held him near its hideous jaws. T.J. could swear it was grinning at him, its horrid maw gaping to expose the dagger teeth. Saliva gushed from its mouth.

  The pistol was in position as the thing cocked its head for a better look again. T.J. shoved the snubnosed barrel at the eye, willing himself to shoot.

  Before he could squeeze the trigger, his wrist was caught in a viselike grip. Horrified, he saw the scaly tail wrapping itself around his arm so tightly that all sensation was cut off.

  "Squeeze!" he commanded his finger.

  The saurian head seemed to be laughing at him as his life was drained out of his dying body. Still, T.J. tried to shoot. He knew he could do it if he could just line up the eye in his sight once more.

  There! There it was. All he had to do was pull the trigger.

  With its free claw, the monster slapped the gun out of T.J.'s hand as easily as a child might swat a fly. The last thing T.J. ever heard was the .38's report as it went off harmlessly in the air.

  Chapter 23

  "How horrible," Sabrina sobbed. She wept openly at the sight of the poor man's death. Dr. Thorkel patted her arm, trying to comfort her. "Perhaps now," she said to him, "you'll believe that the Visitors don't have our best interests at heart."

  "I'm sorry, Dr. Fontaine," he said. "I'm so sorry."

  "Please spare me the sentimentality," Dr. Morrow said. "You humans are far too emotional for your own good."

  "It's too much," Dr. Thorkel said. "You never said there would be anything like this." He gestured at the bloodthirsty crowd as they screeched and hissed behind the three of them. "You never said you would use the prototype to kill innocent human beings."

  "Are you really such a fool, Dr. Thorkel, that it never occurred to you that we were creating this living fighting machine for some other purpose besides pure research?" Dr. Morrow smiled in a mockery of human pleasure that made Sabrina want to tear the mask from his face and expose him for the reptilian creature that he was. "We have succeeded beyond your wildest dreams in recombining human and reptile genes, haven't we?"

  "But how could it withstand those bullets?" Thorkel asked, too much the scientist to ignore such an intriguing question, even at a time like this.

  "Something we added to the mixture, Dr. Thorkel. A molecular density that protects the creature even as it makes him stronger and more agile."

  "Incredible," Dr. Thorkel said.

  Does it make you feel like the inferior ape you are, Doctor?" Morrow asked. "You humans amaze me. You thi
nk, with your primitive science, that you can defeat us. We have suffered a temporary setback, it is true, but we have the knowledge to destroy you all. We would have preferred doing it differently, of course. It would have been so much less trouble to simply rule over your pathetic species as we originally planned. You give us no choice now but to fight you. And we will break your spirit, Dr. Fontaine, just as we will break the spirit of all humankind."

  "You'll never defeat us," Sabrina said with steel in her voice.

  "Oh, no?" Dr. Morrow signaled a crew of technicians to clear the arena. Then they turned a tripod-mounted globular device on the monster.

  The monster stopped eating when it felt the tractor beam pushing against it. It tried to withstand the powerful force, but even its great strength was no use against the alien device. It was soon safely behind the door again.

  A few seconds later, another door opened in the arena wall.

  "Haven't you spilled enough blood for one day?" Sabrina demanded.

  "My dear Dr. Fontaine," Morrow said. "The prototype has only passed its first test. The subject did very well against a rather sluggish member of your race."

  "That poor man fought bravely."

  "Yes, but we would like to find out how the prototype will do against a fine physical specimen—an athlete."

  Dr. Morrow gesticulated, and two sentries appeared in the dark aperture on the far side of the arena. Between them was a third figure, yet another sentry behind him, holding a laser pistol at his head. He towered over all three of them, his blond hair blowing in the breeze. Sabrina's heart pounded wildly as she saw him.

  "I think this one is just the right adversary for our little creation, wouldn't you agree?"

  "No." She must have been hallucinating.

  Dr. Morrow slyly watched her. "No? But why not, Dr. Fontaine? Surely you have no special interest in such an oaf?"

  "How did you bring him here? Why?" Tears were streaming down her cheeks.