V 09 - The New England Resistance

by Tim Sullivan (UC) (epub)

  Chapter 45

  Gunshots and laser fire filled the autumn air around the cabin. Ronald backed away from the door, confused for the first time since he had come to Earth.

  “The resistance,” Sarah cried, trying to break free of Ronald’s grip.

  He was far too strong for her as he gestured for guards to go out and join the fray. One of them didn’t make it past the corpse on the floor; he was hit by a laser bolt and collapsed, limbs entwined with his late comrade-in-arms.

  Shots echoed thunderously through the forest as the resistance fighters fired from the shelter of the trees. Only the rifle reports gave the Visitors something to shoot at, but even this was misleading, the resistance fighters quickly scurrying from one tree to another while the red-garbed Visitors presented wonderful targets.

  At the last someone came out of the trees. The nearest of the Visitors squinted at what appeared to be gleaming body armor of some kind. He fired his laser.

  The beam struck the gleaming figure and bounced back, bending so that it shot harmlessly into the trees, burning off a bough in a shower of cinders. The resistance fighter held a full-length mirror, the perfect defensive weapon against a laser.

  It was extremely difficult to wound a Visitor while he wore his protective vest, as Pythias had discovered to his chagrin a few days before at the laboratory. He had warned Jane, Herb Walsh, Mike Sherman, and the others

  to go for the head or try to shoot the leg out from under them. Otherwise, they were just wasting ammunition.

  The Visitors were in disarray, their leader sequested inside the cabin. Without orders, they darted aimlessly back and forth, sometimes nearly colliding as they searched for targets. The clearing filled with smoke and the odor of burned gunpowder as the Visitors were picked off one at a time.

  Pythias had personally dispatched two of them, the best shooting he’d done since enlisting in the Army at twenty-seven, back in the Second World War. It was easy with the laser pistol, the enemy out front like sitting ducks.

  Six or seven of them went down before the Visitors ever knew what hit them. Clumped together in front of the cabin, blinded by the dying sunlight in their faces, three more fell in a matter of seconds.

  The remaining five scattered, gibbering at each other in their own language as they dodged a hail of bullets.

  Peg MacGregor hit one of them in the leg. He fell to the ground moaning, and she pumped three more shots into him. At that moment, Don Curtis led a Visitor in his sights, squeezing off a shot the alien walked right into. Mrs. Snodgrass, enjoying her first day oif in twenty-two years, happily blasted away with her late husband’s SOSO. Arvid Ebbeson did his best to redeem himself, carefully selecting his shots.

  But it was Herb Walsh who brought down the last of the alien fighting force with a single shot from his old German Mauser.

  “All right,” Pythias said. “That only leaves Ronald.”

  Jane glanced at him, barely daring to hope that her daughter was in that cabin, alive and whole.

  “Come on out of there,” Pythias shouted. “It’s over!”

  Ronald hissed his fury at the sound of Pythias Day’s voice. How could that aging, hairy simian have done this

  to him? He drew his laser pistol from its holster, still clutching Sarah’s wrist.

  “It is true,” Willie said weakly from the floor. “It is over, just as Pythias Day has said.”

  Snarling, Ronald leveled the laser at Willie’s head. “You will not live to see his victory.”

  “No!” Sarah struck his wrist, deflecting the blue energy bolt. It burned off the leg of a table standing on its side. The table leg clunked onto the floor and rolled next to Willie, who opened his mouth as if to speak.

  He began to chant from the ritual of Zon. “Silence!” Ronald commanded.

  Willie obediently stopped chanting, which infuriated Ronald even more. The sound of his grating teeth was audible, and his neck swelled out in agitation. “Why have I been cursed with you, Willie?” he roared.

  “You have always been victorious in the past, Ronald,” said Willie, “and so you thought it was your due to always win. But it is not. You have lost, and so it is best you surrender gracefully.”

  Pythias Day’s voice rose from the forest. “If you come out now, we’ll do what we can for the wounded. But we can’t be responsible for them, if you stay in there. If we step into the open to help them, you might shoot at us.” Growling, Ronald fired a series of blue beams into the forest.

  “Is that your answer?” Willie said. “To let the soldiers who have served you die? To sacrifice them because your pride has been damaged?”

  Ronald’s forked tongue flickered in and out of his jaws as he considered his dilemma.

  He turned to Willie at length and said with satisfaction, “There is still the skyfighter.”

  Chapter 46

  “Get him to his feet,” Ronald commanded.

  “He’s too weak,” Sarah protested.

  “If he is not on his feet in five seconds, I will kill him.” Ronald released her wrist.

  Sarah stooped to help Willie up. He slowly got to his feet and stood, weak but unbowed, facing Ronald. “Do with me what you will,” he said.

  “Why won’t you fight?” Ronald demanded angrily.

  “I know you have courage. Why do you not want to kill me, even now?”

  “I cannot harm you,” Willie said. “You are dead inside. The living cannot harm the dead.”

  “Perhaps not,” Ronald said, pulling Sarah toward him once again. “But the dead can hurt the living, it seems. ”

  “What do you want with her now?” Willie asked.

  “She is coming with me, and so are you.”

  Willie nodded, understanding that the ninj-ki-ra was, in a sense, not over yet. He leaned against the wall for support as he waited for this final stage of the game to begin.

  “You go first,” Ronald instructed him. “And we follow.”

  Willie stumbled toward the door, Ronald pushing him forward roughly. A shot rang out, and a piece of the doorjamb turned to splinters and sawdust next to Willie’s head.

  “Hold your fire!” Pythias Day shouted from cover.

  “That’s Willie. Besides that, Arvid, we told them they could come out. Now, don’t get trigger-happy.”

  Willie was grateful that the sun was going down as he stepped outside. He nearly fell but somehow kept his balance. Next came Sarah, Ronald’s clawed hand around her neck. The laser pistol was held against her right temple.

  “Sarah!” Jane Foley cried. She started forward, but Pythias held her back.

  “Wait,” he whispered.

  Ronald did not look at the dying soldiers lying in their own blood. He stared balefully into the forest instead.

  “Come out,” he said. “All of you, come out or I will kill the woman.”

  There was no sign that anyone heard him for a moment. Had Ronald miscalculated? Would they risk letting him kill her? In a way, Sarah hoped that they would. But, then, he might not be bluffing.

  “Let’s do as he says,” Pythias called to the resistance fighters.

  Slowly they emerged from the forest, women and children mostly, and a few drunks. They were sober enough today, however, given a chance to defend their homes against the invader. Their capitulation to Ronald’s demands was resentful, but they couldn’t let him kill Sarah. They had all—with the exception of Jake and Charlie—known her all their lives.

  They gathered in front of the cabin, rifles pointed down at the ground.

  “We are going to leave now,” Ronald said. “Willie will go first, and the woman will follow. If anyone attempts to follow, she will die when I am safely away from here.”

  “My baby!” Jane cried. She tried to come closer, but Ronald shook his squamous head to warn her away.

  “Stay where you are,” he said.

  “Let her go,” Pythias Day said, running his hand through his flowing beard, “and we’ll let you go.”

  “Y
ou’ll let me go without her?” Ronald sneered. “I doubt that. But I know you will let me go if she is with me. Do you think I’m such a fool, Pythias Day?”

  “Judging from the mess you’ve made of things around here,” Pythias allowed, “I’d say that’s a pretty apt description.”

  Sarah felt, rather than heard, a low growl emanating from deep inside Ronald, but the Visitor said nothing.

  “Are you all right, Sarah?” Pythias asked.

  “Yes.”

  Pythias nodded. He didn’t like the idea of letting Ronald take her, but there was nothing else he could do. As long as she was alive, there was hope, but if Ronald made good his escape and took her with him, she would end up as a meal for a bunch of lizards.

  “Throw down your weapons,” Ronald said.

  They did as he said.

  “Go.” Ronald nudged Willie with the barrel of his laser.

  Willie started forward, Ronald pushing Sarah just behind him. They walked a gauntlet of angry citizens, the people of Cutter’s Cove who had come out to fight Ronald and now stood mute as he got away.

  Ronald and his two captives were soon in the woods. The alien captain clucked in satisfaction, not even bothering to look behind him. He was certain they wouldn’t follow. These foolish humans, drowning in sentiment, unable to sacrifice a single, insignificant life even for the good of the many. Ronald was glad that he had sprung forth from a race that prided itself on its logic.

  He was still angry that he had not been able to force Willie to hate him. The would-be philosopher-theologian still talked, though irrationally. He had been seduced by the myth of the apes of ancient times. A session or two in a conversion chamber would straighten him out.

  It was awkward going through the woods, but at last they came to the beach. There, on the narrow strip of sand, rested the skyfighter, a pale vulture in the dying sun.

  “Get aboard,” he said. “We are leaving this place— but first, the formula.”

  Chapter 47

  Ronald made a subvocal command, inaudible to all but the ship’s sensors. A hatch opened in the side of the skyfighter, the ramp sliding down, buzzing over the lapping of the waves.

  Willie marched disconsolately up the ramp and entered the skyfighter. He collapsed onto a bench, physically exhausted but determined not to let Ronald break his spirit.

  “Can you pilot this vehicle?” Ronald asked.

  “Yes,” Willie said.

  “Go to the console then.”

  Willie did as he was told, running his claws over a panel which lit up in response to his movements.

  The engines hummed.

  “As soon as the engines are ready, you will take us into the village,” Ronald said.

  “The village?”

  “Yes, to this woman’s dwelling. We shall soon see if she tells the truth.”

  Willie waited as long as he reasonably could for the engines to warm up. He knew Sarah was bluffing, and it was only a matter of time until Ronald discovered that she had the last of the toxin secreted on her person. The way he was holding her, she would never get a chance to get the vial out of her pocket. Their only hope now was the toxin, but Ronald never took the laser away from Sarah’s head.

  “You’re wasting time, Willie,” Ronald said.

  Willie sighed, touching a red light on the panel. The skyfighter lifted gently off the ground and was soon hovering over the tree tops.

  At an altitude of a hundred meters, Willie turned the skyfighter toward shore. It shot forward, covering the distance in seconds.

  As the water raced underneath them, Sarah grew more and more fearful. What would she do when they reached the house? Would he believe her if she claimed someone else must have got to the toxin first? Her mother, perhaps? Or Pythias Day?

  No, he would never swallow a story like that. He was far too cynical. If only he would let go of her, she would be able to think more clearly

  They were over Cutter’s Cove now, the church and cemetery below. Willie slowed the skyfighter. “You will have to show me your home, Sarah,” he said.

  “I’ll have to get closer to that screen,” she said, hoping Ronald would release her for that purpose.

  Instead, he moved closer himself, his taloned hand still around her throat. He was taking no chances.

  “On the street,” Sarah said. “That house with the tree in front of it.”

  Willie maneuvered the skyfighter until it was over the street in front of the house, and then he brought it down on the pavement. He entered one last command, and then the engines shut down.

  “Outside,” Ronald commanded.

  The hatch opened, the ramps sliding down to the cracked asphalt. Willie again led the way, stumbling down the ramp and waiting for Ronald and Sarah.

  “This house?” Ronald demanded.

  “No, this one over here.” At least she knew her mother wasn’t home.

  They went up the steps onto the porch.

  “I don’t have my key,” Sarah said.

  Ronald growled impatiently and smashed a small window set in the door. He reached inside and twisted the door handle. The door swung open, and they went inside.

  The house was dark, a relief for both Willie and Ronald, but not for Sarah. She tried to snap on a light, but Ronald yanked her away from the switch.

  “I see better in the dark,” he said. “Now, where is the toxin?”

  “It’s—-ah, it’s in the den.” Sarah pointed at a darkened doorway at the end of the hall. “In a desk.”

  Ronald pushed her toward the den, hungrily anticipating victory in spite of all that had happened today. Once he had the toxin, he would be forgiven for losing all his soldiers. They were, after all, expendable. The toxin was not.

  There was a big captain’s desk set against one wall, a wooden chair set neatly with it.

  “Open it,” Ronald commanded.

  “I don’t have the key.”

  Ronald pointed his laser at the roll top and seared away the varnished wood.

  “Open it,” he repeated.

  Sarah put her hands on the smoldering, smoking wood. Even now, Ronald held her throat firmly so that she could make no sudden moves.

  “Ouch!” The embers burned her fingers.

  “Open it!” Ronald bellowed.

  Sarah flung open the desk.

  Willie began to chant as Ronald cast her aside so that he could rummage through the desk. He crumpled papers, pulled out drawers, and tossed them impatiently on the floor. When he saw that there was nothing resembling a chemical formula, he turned angrily to Sarah, the infernal chanting in his ears.

  “Where is the toxin?” he demanded.

  Sarah held something up, a sparkling little vial. “Right here,” she said, and threw it in Ronald’s face.

  Chapter 48

  Ronald stood perfectly still. Willie chanted, but it was not the same as the chant he had sung before. Now Ronald recognized it as the chant of the dead, apart of the ritual of Zon he had not heard since he was a tiny eggling.

  He lifted a hand to his dripping face. Could this virtually tasteless, odorless fluid really be what he had come here for? What so many had died for? It hardly seemed possible.

  After all, he felt no ill effect save a slight itching sensation in his mouth. But that could have just been a coincidence, couldn’t it? Then the itching turned to fire, and he knew he was lost.

  “You!” he shrieked, pointing his laser at Sarah. “You have lied to me!”

  “You said there are many truths,” Sarah reminded him.

  Enraged, Ronald attempted to point the laser at her, but he suffered a terrible spasm at that moment, doubling him over.

  The spasm passed, and he tried to lift the laser again, but his paralyzed hand would not respond to his mental command. The figures of Willie and Sarah, so clearly illuminated in the moonlight, began to grow dim.

  Another spasm ripped through him, this one much worse than the first. The gun dropped from his numb talons, clattering on the f
loor.

  He was vaguely aware of Sarah picking it up, but he

  no longer cared what happened. He was consumed by an ague, frozen and burning up at the same time.

  It hardly seemed to matter that he crashed into the desk arid sent it tumbling to the floor, his body helplessly following it. He lay there trembling until another spasm wracked him from head to toe. He writhed amid the papers and flames as the sparks from the smoldering desk ignited the contents of the desk spilled onto the floor.

  Ronald’s tongue flew out of his maw uncontrollably, black bile running down from his jaws onto his crimson uniform. He suddenly understood that he was dying, and what that meant.

  All the time, he could hear Willie chanting. But it didn’t annoy him as it had in the past. He began to perceive a certain beauty in it now, a soothing accompaniment to this final act of his life.

  He rolled through the burning papers, writhing and gagging, and yet his mind calmed even as his body suffered. He had sent so many to their deaths, always fearing it himself, and yet, now that death was upon him, it didn’t seem as bad as he had feared.

  Soon there would be an end to his suffering, the torment he had known all his life. He began to feel at peace for the first time.

  Willie continued to chant as Ronald grew still at last. Sarah stamped out the burning letters and bills on the floor, fearing that the house would bum down. She had the fire under control in a few seconds.

  Willie’s chanting reached a higher pitch and then trailed off into an ending.

  There was silence throughout the house.

  “Quickly,” Willie said, “we must take his body to the skyfighter.”

  “Why?” Sarah asked, physically and emotionally drained.

  “Please,” Willie implored, “help me.”

  Tired as she was, Sarah didn’t like having Ronald’s body in the house. “All right.”

  They awkwardly pulled the body through the dark corridor and out through the front door.

  “We must hurry,” Willie said.

  Sarah didn’t understand why, but she took his word for it. She only wanted this nightmare to end.

  They dragged the body out into the darkened street. There was nobody in sight, only a single hissing cat under a streetlamp.