V 09 - The New England Resistance

by Tim Sullivan (UC) (epub)

  John Ellis rose and made his way down the side of the boulder, careful to keep his rifle aimed at Willie. “Well, whether you mean any harm or not, fella, Ronald’s gonna be glad to see you.”

  Clearly, this man did not understand the ninj-ki-ra. “You cannot do this,” Willie said.

  “Oh, can’t I?” Ellis approached him, pulling out a long piece of twine he kept in his pocket for emergencies. “Watch me.”

  He gestured for Willie to back up until the alien’s ridged back was against a birch tree. Willie was tied securely to the trunk in a matter of seconds.

  “Now, then,” Ellis said, stepping back to admire his handiwork, “I reckon I’ll see if I can’t find Ronald. He’ll probably want to use you for a little target practice, old chum.”

  Chapter 34

  As John Ellis disappeared into the woods, Willie tugged at his bonds. It was no good; he couldn’t seem to loosen them at all. The more he struggled, the tighter the knots were.

  Ronald would not be pleased that the human had tied him here, but that didn’t mean he would spare Willie either. It all depended on how much the ninj-ki-ra meant to him. Willie was inclined to think it didn’t mean all that much, that Ronald had initiated the ritual for personal reasons rather than the spiritual ones for which the ninj-ki-ra was introduced on the home world millennia ago.

  Now it was only matter of perhaps half an hour to his final—perhaps fatal—meeting with Ronald. If he was right, it was time to commend his spirit to Zon.

  Willie began to chant, as yet uncertain why fate had led him here, tied helplessly to a tree while his nemesis was summoned to kill him. And yet he accepted it, even so. If his death was to be on this day, so be it. His essence would survive, at one with the cosmos, even if his body was destroyed. He prayed for the strength to bear the pain with dignity.

  The sonorous chanting echoed through the forest, haunting John Ellis as he searched for Ronald. It was as if Willie were trying to draw Ronald to him now, as if he were eager to die. Ellis shook his head, certain he would never understand these lizards.

  As he made his way through the woods, he glanced behind him from time to time. On one such occasion, he

  craned his neck and then turned to see that he had nearly collided with Ronald’s towering, red-clad form.

  “Ronald!” he cried.

  “You recognized me,” the alien said. “You grow more astute every day.”

  Ellis tried to laugh, but he was too frightened of Ronald. The imposing alien stared at him through his glaring yellow eyes. “I hear the sound of chanting,” Ronald said.

  “Yeah, I captured him for you. He’s tied up back there by the blueberry patch.”

  “You fool,” Ronald hissed.

  “What?” Ellis took a step backward, wanting to run away from the threatening reptilian monster. “What’s wrong, Ronald?”

  “You have destroyed the ritual of ninj-ki-ra.” Ronald’s tongue shot out like a snake’s. “You must take me to him at once. I must kill him now, due to your bungling.”

  Chanting from the ninj-ki-ra, Ronald allowed John Ellis to lead him back to Willie.

  Willie sensed a presence nearing. At first he thought it was Ronald, but it was too soon—and the creature’s intelligence was too rudimentary.

  A snorting sound rose from the bushes, which moved as if there was a great bulk passing among them. A moment later, a huge black head emerged. It was the same bear he had befriended earlier.

  Willie concentrated with all his mental reserves. He liml communicated with the bear earlier, but he must go farther than that now.

  Closing his eyes, Willie projected his thoughts toward the wild creature. The beast cocked its huge head, staring at him with its pink tongue lolling out of the side of its jaws. It sensed that Willie was speaking to it, but as yet it didn’t know what he wanted.

  He tried to actually enter the bear’s mind on its own level. There was nothing but darkness at first, but then a glimmer of concern flickered across his consciousness— worry about feeding the young, about the coming winter, about the strange creatures who had invaded the island.

  Then he felt a direct mind link with the bear!

  Willie thought hard about the twine fastening him to the tree. He imagined Ronald killing him while he was helplessly bound. The bear whined in sympathy.

  Certain that the beast understood, Willie made a mental image of it chewing at the twine. He tried to visualize this in every detail. His eyes still closed, he felt something warm on his wrist. He did not dare open his eyes for fear that the bear would lose the mental projection. He continued to think of nothing else but his liberation, feeling the bear’s saliva on his scales.

  “He’s stopped chanting,” Ronald said, pausing for a moment.

  “Maybe he gave up,” offered John Ellis. He didn’t like the way Ronald was acting at all. “Maybe he just figures he’s gonna die and there’s nothing he can do about it by chanting.”

  Ronald scowled at him, his yellow cat’s eyes narrowing. In the dark woods, he had no need of his polarized lenses, but Ellis wished that he would put them back on, even so. Those eyes gave him the creeps.

  “This way,” he said, suddenly realizing that Ronald was waiting for him to take him to Willie.

  They hurried through the stands of birch trees, emerging at last at the edge of the blueberry patch.

  “He’s right over here.” John looked around. He could have sworn the alien was tied to one of the trees right here. But he saw nothing except the serpentine coils of white twine lying on the dead leaves.

  “I don’t believe it!” Ellis shouted. “How did he—” He turned to face the angry Ronald, a low growl in the Visitor captain’s throat.

  Ellis tried to smile. “Well,” he said, “at least now you can continue the ninj-ki-ra.”

  Chapter 35

  Willie sprinted through the woods, hopping over gnarled tree roots and avoiding open spaces between the trees as much as possible. He had escaped Ronald, but just barely. The cruel alien captain would not be far behind.

  Breathing heavily, Willie paused for a moment. Which way should he go? Perhaps it would be wisest—and safest—-to plunge into the deepest part of the forest, toward the center of the island. If he was in the middle, he could flee in any direction if Ronald was catching up with him. On the other hand, he couldn’t risk going too far and coming out on the narrow beach on the east side of the island, where Ronald’s minions were surely patrolling.

  For that matter, they were on the west side and the north and south. Willie tried not to despair as he began to run again. He must remember the ordeal of Amon, exiled from the planet of his birth, and take comfort from the Great One’s suffering.

  He silently repeated the ritual of Zon in his mind as he darted from one clump of trees to another like a creature bom to the forest.

  The light shone more brightly ahead, suggesting to Willie that there was an open space. He would circle around it, he decided. Curiosity' caused him to get a little closer to it, however, and he was surprised by what he saw.

  In the clearing were mossy tree stumps and a path leading to a crude dwelling made of timbers.

  Though there was a danger in stepping into the clearing, it occurred to Willie that there might be something useful in the cabin, some tool or—Zon forgive him—some weapon. He was ahead of Ronald, so there was little danger that he would get caught in the open if he acted now.

  Leaping into the clearing, Willie ran the fifty yards to the cabin. In seconds he was at the door. He tried it but it seemed to be stuck.

  He went around to the side. There was clear plastic over the windows. Willie tore it with his claws and punched out the fragile wooden support that made the separate halves of the window too narrow to admit him. There was plenty of room now. He pulled himself up to the casement and perched on the windowsill. After the glaring late afternoon sunlight, it was difficult to see, but it didn’t look as though anything would obstruct the leap inside.

&
nbsp; But was it worthwhile going in? In the dim light, it wasn’t possible to be certain, but Willie could vaguely perceive a few likely objects lying around.

  He jumped softly into the room.

  Lighting on all fours, Willie kept completely still for a few seconds, the points protruding from his forehead quivering. He knew at once that he had made a mistake. There was someone here.

  The old sofa in the comer suddenly lurched forward and toppled over. A bearded man and a young woman were revealed.

  “I know what you’ve come for,” the man said.

  Willie looked at him, wondering what he meant.

  “I’ve got it right here,” the old man told him, seeming to think he would understand. “Come a little closer and I’ll give it to you.”

  Willie remained silent.

  The bearded man, emboldened by Willie’s reticence, took a step closer. He held up his hand, fingers clenched around something that Willie couldn’t see.

  “I do not understand,” Willie said. “Please explain.”

  “I can do better than explain,” the man replied, a strange gleam in his eye. “I can show you.”

  Suddenly the man rushed forward, his hand jerking, liquid splashing into Willie’s face.

  Stepping back, the bearded man opened his hand. A small crystal vial fell to the floor.

  At first Willie thought that he had been challenged in some way. He had seen a film once in which wine was thrown into a man’s face to force him to fight a duel. But then Willie remembered that such violent customs were a thing of the past on Earth.

  He felt a tingling sensation on his face, running down his chest. It was on the inside too, heating his guts, spreading through his veins to the tips of his taloned hands and feet.

  The heat increased, flames burning inside him. They threatened to consume him, and yet, even as he was burning up he felt a terrible cold enveloping him.

  Trembling from the effects of the icy fire, Willie staggered toward the bearded man.

  “What have you done to me?” he said.

  “I’ve killed you,” the man replied.

  “But I am not your enemy,” Willie rasped, guessing now who the bearded man was. “I am running from them too.”

  “You’re one of them,” the young woman said.

  “One of them,” Willie said, “but sent by the resistance to help you.”

  “Then you’re Willie,” the woman cried. “You found us.”

  “Yes,” said Willie, “but I fear that others are not far behind me, others who are not sympathetic.”

  Willie tried to gesture to indicate the direction from which he’d come, but it was no good. He stumbled, his vision fading as the toxin spread through his nervous system. He could barely see the floor coming up to meet him as he fell.

  Chapter 36

  Dr. Brunk and Sarah Foley stared aghast as Willie lay flopping like a fish out of water on the cabin floor.

  “Good Lord,” Dr. Brunk shouted. “What have I done?”

  He fell to his knees beside Willie and turned the alien over onto his back.

  “We still have the antitoxin,” Sarah said.

  “But we don’t know if it will work.”

  “The toxin seems to be working very well.” Sarah reached for the other vials on the table. “So the antitoxin will probably work too.”

  “The chances are not so great that it will work,” Dr. Brunk said. “The cells will be affected very quickly, and the nervous system is already suffering ill effects. Quickly.”

  Sarah handed him a vial. Dr. Brunk was trying to hold Willie’s head up with one hand while he administered the antidote with the other. But Willie’s convulsions made it difficult for him.

  “Sarah, help me hold him still,” Dr. Brunk said. “I can’t handle him alone.”

  As he spoke to her, his face turned away from Willie. At that moment, Willie’s convulsions became more violent. He doubled over, arms flailing.

  The vial was knocked out of Dr. Brunk’s hand, shattering on the stones of the fireplace.

  Dr. Brunk shouted, “Another one, Sarah! More antitoxin!”

  A terrible rattle started deep in Willie’s throat, his neck bulging and a noxious black liquid streaming from his gaping mouth. The rattle increased in frequency and pitch, escalating into a death scream.

  Willie’s body was vibrating now, wildly out of control. He rolled on the floor, spasming, torso jackknifing in a way that would have broken a human back.

  Sarah held the second bottle of the antidote as Dr. Brunk helplessly attempted to restrain the stricken Willie. Brunk was flung against a wall, the breath knocked out of him, his face losing color.

  Sarah forgot about Willie, and ran to help her mentor.

  Gasping, Dr. Brunk shook his head. “No, I’m all right,” he said. “We’ve got to help him before it’s too late.”

  “Right.” Sarah tried to subdue Willie by pulling his arms behind his back, but her fingers slipped on his scales and he thrust her away with ease. She fell on the upended couch, legs askew while Willie writhed, splintering a wooden chair without noticing, flinging himself into the wall, and screaming horribly as he foamed black at the mouth.

  “We’d better rush him at the same time.” Sarah glanced at Dr. Brunk, and he gave her the thumbs-up signal. “Now.”

  They both charged at Willie as his clawed hands clutched the empty air, a vase crashing as he collided with the one table still left standing.

  One on each arm, they tried to hold him. Willie swung them around as if they were nothing more than rag dolls, annoying bits of flesh to cast away from him in his Milfering. They ended up in a tangled heap on the floor, Willie still wailing and howling like a banshee.

  “The toxin,” Dr. Brunk said through gritted teeth. “Look.”

  Willy had knocked over the table the vials were on, and they were scattered over the floor. Dark stains formed where a stopper had come loose, the toxin spilling out, lost forever.

  “We’ve got to save what’s left,” Sarah cried. She crawled across the floor, picking up the vials. The one that had lost its stopper had just a few drops in it, but the other was completely full of toxin. The one in her hand was the only remaining bottle of the antidote.

  Faced with the imminent death of Willie, Sarah decided that she had to take a chance. She pulled the stopper out of the antitoxin vial and ran at Willie, trying to splash it in his face.

  Willie slapped her hand away. For a moment she thought he was going to attack her, but then she saw his eyes. There was no anger in them, no hatred. Only sadness and pain.

  Willie could not control his body at all, and he was dying. He apparently was unaware of what was happening around him now.

  “I never anticipated the violence of the reaction,” Dr. Brunk said. “It’s all but impossible to administer the antitoxin.”

  “We can’t just let him die,” Sarah said. “He came here to help us.”

  As Willie smashed headfirst into the wall, Dr. Brunk said helplessly, “What can we do?”

  Desperate, Sarah looked around at the wreckage of the cabin’s interior. The poker clanked onto the floor as Willie gyrated wildly. She darted toward it and scooped it up.

  Now Willie was actually climbing up onto the mantel, shrieking horribly with the agony of the virulent serum coursing through his veins. His body stiffened as he tried to stand, he teetered, lost his balance, and landed on the floor with a resounding thud.

  Sarah didn’t waste any more time. This might kill him, but he was going to die anyway if something wasn’t done.

  Before Willie could get up off the floor, she brought the poker down hard on the base of his skull.

  Chapter 37

  “Turn him over,” Dr. Brunk said. Together they flipped over his limp form, and Dr. Brunk pulled the powerful, fanged jaws open and poured the last vial of antitoxin down Willie’s throat. Somehow Sarah had managed to hang onto it in the fray.

  The alien’s body was still trembling, the yellow eyes
rolled up so that only the daggerlike bottoms of the corneas could be seen. Sarah and Dr. Brunk backed away as the antitoxin worked its way into Willie’s system—for good or ill.

  Low moans escaped Willie’s gurgling throat. His jaws opened wide, hinges working to reveal a maw three times the size of a human’s.

  “If the antitoxin comes back up,” Dr. Brunk said, “the residue might not be enough to save him.” “We’ve done what we could,” Sarah breathed. “There’s no more antitoxin.”

  Willie’s convulsions seemed milder now. Was it the lull before the final storm, or was the antitoxin taking effect? They could only wait and see.

  In a way, though neither of them would admit it, it was a relief for Dr. Brunk and Sarah. The toxin had been tested, and it worked very well, obviously. They did not know this Visitor, and the challenge of having to accept him after testing him with the toxin disturbed them. Both of them knew that these feelings were not humanistic, and yet neither of them could help themselves. They had spent months learning to hate the Visitors, and though

  they welcomed Willie to their cause, they feared they would never be comfortable with the alien.

  On the other hand, neither of them wanted him to die. They could assure themselves that they had tried to save him. Now, if he pulled through, there was the possibility of the camaraderie-—the esprit de corps—of the New England resistance being shattered. Things become too complicated when the lizards began to work with humans against their own. There was no doubt human kind needed Willie and others like him, but now that his usefulness had ended, what would they do with him? It wasn’t that they didn’t consider him the equal of a human being. Indeed, that was the problem; Willie might be more than equal to a human.

  Willie was still now, a pool of the black bile beside his head. They waited for him to show some sign of life.

  After a few minutes, Sarah said, “Do you think he’s alive?”

  “I don’t know,” Dr. Brunk said. “I don’t know what vital signs these organisms might show. When that prisoner was in our laboratory, it was all guesswork, and he was gone before we learned very much.”