Ejecta

by William C. Dietz

  But, rather than set out for “the place,” as Devlin thought of it, her captor was roaming the streets waiting for something. A signal of some sort that would trigger the final horror. And then, as the sun set descended into a red smear off to the west, it came. Devlin heard herself growl as darkness fell, the parasite turned north and began to walk. It was the beginning of the end.

  ***

  With the coming of darkness, the already well lubricated Mardi Gras crowd was becoming steadily wilder. Music pounded and fireworks crackled as Palmer followed Cooper into the mob of people. Many of the tourists wore the all American uniform of tee shirts and shorts, while others had outfitted themselves with masks, capes, and elaborate costumes. Regardless of how they were dressed most of them were wearing strings of beads, holding a beverage, and swaying to the bluesy music that seemed to emanate from the city's pores.

  Palmer was extremely conscious of the knapsack, the bullet proof vest he was wearing, and the handguns that rode under both armpits. One was a Glock 23. The other was a pistol-shaped injector that could shoot a powerful sedative through both the target's clothes and the pores of their skin. Then, if all went well, McCall's collection team would move in to remove the host.

  Palmer followed along behind as Cooper forced a pathway through the rowdy crowd and Hernandez brought up the rear. The lead agent was in communication with both the collection and medical teams via a wire-thin lip mike and a pocket radio.

  The men were forced to pause while a conga line snaked past them, before pushing their way across to the street, to the point where a sequined Uncle Sam teetered on stilts and showered the crowd with red, white, and blue doubloons.

  At that point the men were following along behind the newly formed two hundred person strong Storm Krewe. The parade consisted of floats, bands, and all manner of fantastically costumed marchers. By making its way through the once devastated neighborhood of Lakeview the Storm Krewe hoped to focus attention on the need to make more improvements. Because even though some homes destroyed by hurricane Katrina had been rebuilt there were still far too many empty lots.

  From West End Boulevard the Storm Krewe turned right onto Robert E. Lee Boulevard. As the revelers approached Milne Boulevard Cooper paused and gestured for the others to join him. “What's up?” Hernandez wanted to know.

  “Levar says Devlin is headed for the abandoned condo complex two blocks north of here. McCall is going to bring the collection team in closer. Medical will follow. Come on. We don't want to lose her.”

  ***

  Having tracked Patterson into the Lakeview area, Woo and a young man named Chung watched the truck driver make his way toward a fifteen story condo building. Occasional glimmers of light could be seen, as if small fires were burning within the already gutted structure, but there was no way to know what was taking place inside without entering it.

  But where were the Biosecurity people? Did they know about the site? Or were they asleep at the wheel again? Woo paused to take a look around. The music produced by the Storm Krewe had started to fade by then, as the light produced by a salvo of fireworks strobed the mostly empty neighborhood, and Patterson plowed ahead. “Let's go,” Woo said, waving his team forward. The task was simple. All he had to do was capture some freaks, load them aboard a specially equipped van, and transport them to the ship. The Xinglong's engines were running, her mooring lines had been singled up, and she was cleared to leave port. Once the ship was at sea the operation would be a success. His parents would be proud.

  ***

  The inside of what had once been known as the West End Condominiums was almost entirely dark. What little illumination there was originated from the sporadic fireworks which strobed the interior like a photographer's flash gun, the light produced by small trash fires, and the occasional glow of flashlights.

  Some of the parasites had paired up by then, experienced their moment of bliss and, like salmon that had successfully migrated up-stream, had begun the process of dying. Others, Devlin's organism among them, continued to shuffle through the halls sampling the pheromone laden air. Most of the hosts had surrendered their individual identities by then. But a few, the scientist being one, still retained a glimmer of self-awareness. Not enough to assert control over her much abused body, but enough to understand the true horror of what was taking place, as her parasite prepared for what was to come.

  Devlin could breathe, but just barely, and it felt as if she were suffocating as the alien organism directed her body into a third floor condo. A burly steel worker from Canada was waiting there. He uttered something that sounded like a squawk and opened his arms by way of an invitation.

  She was battling the parasite by then, struggling with every bit of strength that still remained to her, but the effort wasn’t enough as hairy arms wrapped her in a sweaty embrace. There was a slurping noise as their lips met in an open mouthed kiss. As that took place all four of the participants were overwhelmed by an explosion of pleasure. Somewhere, in what could only be described as hell, Devlin began to cry.

  ***

  “Watch yourselves,” Cooper advised cautiously, as the three men entered the lobby with weapons drawn. His voice was distorted by a NATO issue one-piece respirator. It was equipped with a polyurethane lens that provided a wide field of vision. It made them look as monstrous as the things they were hunting but Palmer knew the protective gear was necessary. Because if one of the carriers were to explode, and team members breathed the spores in, they would wind up like Devlin.

  “Uh, oh,” Hernandez said soberly, as the light from his torch played across a brightly costumed body. “Look at that.” Palmer knelt next to the dead man and saw that his throat had been cut. A drunk probably, who had wandered into the building, and paid the price.

  Palmer had his Glock at the ready as he entered a stairwell and followed Cooper up and out onto the second floor. He paused to listen but couldn't hear anything other than the sound of his own raspy breathing. Light spilled out into the hall from the first doorway on the left.

  Palmer paused to steel himself against what he might have to confront, passed through the entry, and found himself in what had been a living room. A small fire was burning in front of a shattered window, the floor was littered with trash, and there was a pile of feces against a wall. The geologist backed his way out into the hall.

  Cooper was checking the first unit on the right by then. He moved so quietly that Palmer was reminded of a ghost as the agent slipped from one door to the next. Eventually they arrived at the end of the hall and an exit. The door was covered with graffiti and groaned loudly as Palmer pulled it open.

  Hernandez entered first followed by Cooper and Palmer. They were on the stairs, making their way up toward the second floor, when a man in a black hazmat suit appeared on the landing above. He spotted the Americans below, raised his QSZ-92 pistol, and fired. Hernandez’s head snapped back as the single 5.8mm round passed through both the respirator's faceplate and his right eye. The bullet blew the back of the agent's skull out and sprayed Cooper with gore. As the body fell the agent had no choice but to catch it.

  Fortunately Palmer had a clear shot from the bottom of the stairs and pulled the trigger three times. The MSS agent had fired a second round by then. But it went wide as two of Palmer's bullets hammered his body armor. A third passed through the respirator's drinking tube and then the roof of his mouth before penetrating his brain.

  Cooper spoke into the lip mike as he lowered Hernandez onto the concrete stairs. “We have contact. One man down in the north stairwell. Exercise caution as you enter the building.”

  Palmer followed Cooper to the landing above where the agent opened the metal fire door a crack. When no one fired he opened the door all the way, entered the third floor hallway, and began to edge his way along the left wall. Palmer was immediately behind him. “There’s bound to be more of them,” Cooper said grimly. “So keep your eyes peeled.”

  Palmer was about to respond when a female hunchback
lurched out of a room halfway down the hall. She turned and began to advance. Her mouth was open as if to scream. That allowed what looked like a glistening sausage to sample the air. She appeared to be unaware of the two men and made no attempt to avoid them. “I think that's the parasite,” Palmer said, as the protrusion produced an explosion of fine white tentacles.

  “No shit,” Cooper replied. “Come to Papa, you ugly sonofabitch,” he added as the host waddled forward. Then, once the woman was close enough, Cooper pressed his injector pistol against her left shoulder and pulled the trigger. She jerked, fell onto her back, and continued to flop around until the sedative took effect. “We have one,” Cooper said into his lip mike. “And she's a beaut. We're on the third floor. Near the stairwell. Come and get her. Over.”

  “Watch out!” Palmer shouted, as two hazmat-suited figures appeared at the far end of the hall. Flashes of light strobed the gloom, gunshots echoed down the corridor, and brass casings pinged off cement walls as both sides opened fire.

  But the Americans had a slight advantage thanks to the fact that the Chinese agents were staring into the glare from Cooper's flashlight. Still, the torch made a good target, and Cooper staggered as a bullet slammed into his body armor. There was a quick flurry of shots as Palmer returned fire. Once both MSS agents were down Palmer took a moment to reload. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” the agent replied. “Keep moving.”

  ***

  Based on a hurried report from Chung, who wasn't responding anymore, Johnny Woo knew that elements of the American biosecurity team were probably on the third floor. His collection team was on the sixth floor, bagging a specimen, and Woo was worried that they might be trapped there. Or hunted from above. Because the opposition could theoretically drop people onto the roof and he had no way to defend against that.

  The obvious answer was to ambush the operators on the third floor. That would cut the opposition down to size and secure a line of retreat for his collection team. So with a young woman named Ling to protect his back he had stationed himself just inside the condo's spacious activity room where he could peek into the hallway. Lights were visible in the distance. Woo could have opened fire at that point, but chose not to, knowing that a long range gun battle was unlikely to score very many kills.

  There was a scraping noise behind him and Ling said something unintelligible as Woo prepared to fire. He told her to “Shut up,” stepped partway into the hall, and opened fire. The bullets were aimed low so as to hit the American's unprotected legs. And the strategy worked.

  A blob of light wobbled across the popcorn ceiling as the first agent went down, and Woo was about to drop the second man as well, when something passed in front of his face. He didn't know it was a thin leather belt until it began to tighten around his throat.

  Suddenly Woo understood what Ling had been trying to tell him. A carrier had been hiding in the activity room. But it was too late by then, as the belt continued to tighten, and Woo dropped his pistol in order to claw at the noose. Light splashed his face, a series of what felt like sledgehammer blows hit his body, and then he was gone.

  ***

  Palmer saw blood explode out through the front of the MSS agent's respirator. He kept firing as the body fell and the fat man standing behind it was revealed. It looked as if host weighed about three hundred pounds. The chemicals being injected into his bloodstream kept the man-monster vertical as he waddled forward.

  Then Cooper fired a shot from the floor and Palmer saw a third eye appear over the bridge of the host's nose. There was a meaty thud as the huge body landed on the floor. After a quick look around Palmer turned his attention to Cooper. The agent's legs were wet with blood and it was obvious that he'd been hit multiple times. “This is Palmer. Man down on the third floor. We need help now.”

  Palmer felt Cooper's hand on his arm and heard the agent say something unintelligible. So he pulled the respirator off. “Cooper... Can you hear me?”

  “Of course I can hear you,” the agent rasped. “Cigarette. Chest pocket.”

  Palmer felt for them, found both a pack and a lighter in the front pocket of Cooper's chest protector, and tapped a cigarette out. Then he placed the tube of tobacco in the agent's mouth and lit it. Cooper took a deep drag and coughed. “Thanks. Now get your ass in gear. Find Sara. Save her if you can. And tell her...”

  Palmer bent down and his fingers felt for a pulse. “Cooper?” There was no answer. The cigarette lay like a red eye staring up at him. Palmer stood, placed a boot on the cigarette, and ground it out. Then he hurried down the hall.

  The first few units were empty of life. Then Palmer heard grunting noises, kicked a door open, and aimed his flashlight inside. A man and a woman were grappling with each other. The blob hit them and threw a monstrous shadow onto the far wall. That was when he saw the side of the woman's face and realized he was looking at Sara. The man's hairy arms were wrapped around her and the two of them were sharing a prolonged kiss.

  Palmer knew the team was supposed to collect specimens if possible but didn't give a shit at that point. So rather than risk hitting Devlin he shot the man in the right knee. There was an explosion of blood. He went down, just as Palmer expected him to, but popped back up. Then, hopping on one leg, the man began to advance. His eyes were dilated, what looked like a wet sausage was protruding from his mouth, and he was uttering high-pitched keening noises.

  Palmer fired three times. The host was thrown onto his back where Palmer shot him again just to make sure. Then, as he was about to turn toward Devlin, she attacked him. The empty bottle missed his head but struck his arm. The Glock fell free and skittered across the floor. “Sara!” Parker shouted. “It's me... Alex.”

  But the Sara thing kept coming, bottle raised high. So Palmer threw himself to the right, hit the floor, and slid. His fingers scrabbled for the gun and found it. Then, rolling onto his back, he brought the weapon up. “Sara! Stop! It's me.”

  ***

  Devlin heard the voice as if from a mile away. Devlin wondered if she was dreaming. Palmer? Could it be? But the parasite was in control and it lurched forward. Devlin saw flashes of light, felt the hammer blows hit her chest, and was dimly aware of falling. There was a choking sensation as something forced its way out of her mouth and humped away. Then he was there, lifting her up, and cradling her in his arms. “Sara? Can you hear me?”

  Devlin's body felt numb, and the world was fading away, but she felt free. It was difficult to speak. She looked up, tried to smile, and said: “Thank you.”

  ***

  Palmer heard the words, felt her body go slack and said, “No!” But Sara was gone. And that was where the collection team found him. Sitting on the floor, with Sara Devlin's head in his lap, rocking back and forth. The battle for the West End Condos was over.

  ***

  South of Benson, Arizona

  Palmer drove south on Highway 90, turned east onto the patch of barren land known as Deacon’s Battle, and followed the old wagon road towards the Curtiss and Dragoon Mountains. The sun was out and Mount Glenn, China Peak, and Black Diamond Peak were visible in the distance.

  Gravel rattled inside the jeep's wheel wells as he steered the 4 X 4 around a pile of rounded boulders and through a section of open desert. The knobby off-road tires bumped over the rusty railroad line that ran northwest toward Tucson and hummed as he pushed the jeep across Beader’s Flat. Sunlight sparkled off the glass house but the woman who owned it was nowhere to be seen.

  Then he had a brief glimpse of his grandmother's willow trees, with the 1,000 gallon water tank off to the right, just before the road dipped and it was time to downshift. More than a week had passed since the battle inside the condo complex and the biosecurity people were still in the process of assimilating all of the new information that had been acquired.

  As for the Chinese they were long gone. The surviving members of the MSS collection team had been forced to make a run for the Xinglong. The moment they were aboard the ship's
crew cast off.

  A series of frantic phone calls were made in a last ditch effort to have the Coast Guard stop the vessel. But, having operated on its own and under great secrecy, the Department of Biosecurity was unable to say why the ship should be intercepted other than the possibility that it “might have dangerous organisms aboard.” An unsupported allegation that led to a slow response from the Coast Guard and State Department. Which was why the Xinglong had been allowed to put to sea where it immediately began the long trip to China. And once outside U.S. territorial waters any attempt to interfere with the vessel would have had led to serious diplomatic consequences.

  Having lost that battle, not to mention two of its agents, there wasn't much the Biosecurity team could do but clean up the mess at the West End Condos. A process that involved the discreet removal of more than a dozen bodies and setting fire to the building so as to destroy both parasite spores and forensic evidence. Since the “clean-up” certain members of Congress had been briefed, along with top officials at all of the major intelligence organizations, every single one of whom had been incredibly pissed.

  But that was for other people to sort out as Palmer topped a rise, spotted the ruins of what had been the family home, and his brushed aluminum Airstream trailer. As he turned onto the U-shaped drive that fronted the trailer he remembered seeing Sara for the first time. She'd been dressed in a blue ball cap, Levi jacket, and jeans. The vision vanished as he braked and the jeep skidded to a halt.

  Palmer went around to the back end of his vehicle, grabbed a bag of groceries off the passenger seat, and made his way toward the trailer. It had been then, as he stepped up onto the deck, that Sara removed her sunglasses. Her eyes had been green. Very, green. And something passed between them at that moment. Something special.

  Keys rattled as he opened the door, stepped into the musty air, and put the groceries on the tiny counter. He hadn't been home for the better part of a month. Not since being summoned to Denver by Cooper. There would be lots of chores to do. Palmer put the groceries but left the bottle of bourbon on the counter.