A Day for Damnation twatc-2

by David Gerrold

  I pulled the basket forward. "Come on, Lizard. I need your help." Duke's moans were louder now. We lifted him as gently as we could into the basket. I checked the seals on the medi-blanket while Lizard strapped him in, then I hung the console in the slot provided for it.

  The crab was lowering three connector cables into the cabin. I snapped the first to the head of Duke's basket. I tossed a harness at Lizard and grabbed the other for myself. "The cameras-" I said.

  "I've got all the recordings right here," Lizard said, patting her flight bag. She passed the second connector cable through its handles before snapping it onto her harness. "They're safe."

  I finished shrugging into my harness and connected the third cable. "All right," I said. "Duke first, then you. I'll bring up the rear.

  "Sorry, Lieutenant," she said. "The captain is the last to leave the ship. You go second."

  "I'm going to cover your rear," I insisted.

  "You'll wait until after dinner-and that's an order. All right-" she said to the crab, "-let's have a little help lifting this basket." The cables began to retract. The basket pulled back, then upward toward the turret as the cable continued tightening. We guided it carefully up through the opening. I climbed up after it, then turned and pulled Lizard up after me. Then I started shivering. The night air was cold.

  There were worms all around the chopper, sitting and watching us. Their black bulks were huge in the gloom. I couldn't tell how many there were, but there were more than fourteen of them now, that was for sure. There could have been thirty or fifty. I couldn't tell. But I could hear the sounds of their eyes blinking.

  Sputph-wut. Sput-phwut.

  Lizard steadied herself on my arm, then leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. "Thanks," she said. She turned to the crab and gave a thumbs-up signal. The crab returned it with one mechanical claw.

  And then the worms screamed again! "Chtorrrrr! Chtorrrrrrr-!" -and swarmed in toward the chopper. One of them flowed up the front of the craft-the chopper's windshield cracked under its weight. It kept on coming anyway. It was on top of the ship now, pouring toward us.

  -the crab swiveled all its spotlights and hit it with its brightest glare. The worm recoiled, blinking. The crab scuttled toward it, waving all its arms and legs and everything else-all its cameras, lights and attachments-in as threatening a manner as possible. The worm backed away, uncertainly.

  -and then suddenly, the cable-rider was screaming up the line, yanking us with it! Duke screamed at the jolt as the basket leapt upward; he must have been in incredible pain. I gasped in surprise, and Lizard yelled like a kid on a roller coaster. The chopper dropped away below us. It was an oasis of pink light in a sea of ink.

  I could see that more of the worms were swarming up onto it now. The crab retreated before their onslaught. It clamped itself to the line and followed us up. A worm grabbed for it and missed.

  And then the chopper was too far below to see anything else clearly.

  I glanced upward. The blimp was an ominous hole in the night. Its lights were still off and we were hurtling toward a gigantic darkness. A square of yellow warmth opened directly overhead. The color of the light was startling. After two days of nothing but pinkness, it looked alien.

  The square expanded, it became a hatch-we rose up through it and suddenly we were inside the blimp-first the basket, then me, then Colonel Tirelli.

  There were men and women in jumpsuits to pull us aboard, to swing us away from the hatch, grab us and disconnect the cables from our harnesses. They were applauding and cheering. It was all a blur of faces and hands. I couldn't hear. I couldn't focus my eyes. They were too wet.

  Someone was helping me out of my harness and O-mask. I kept blinking in confusion. All the light-all the noise-all these people! It was too dazzling!

  And the room-it was huge. We could have put the chopper in it and we'd still have room for a dance floor. I saw the dust-covered crab come lifting through a great hole in the floor. The last of the line came up after it.

  The hole closed up and a man with a headset said, "AZ is aboard and the hatch is closed. Retrieval is complete." There was more cheering at this. Even I was cheering now-between paroxysms of coughing. I was having trouble breathing again.

  "Release the mooring harpoons," the man with the headset said. "Let's go to Oakland." He grinned at me. "The lieutenant wants a lobster."

  I looked at Lizard and blushed. She winked at me.

  TWENTY-NINE

  FOUR MEN grabbed the basket with Duke and disappeared through a door. Two others led Lizard and myself out through another exit. We followed them down a long corridor and into a medical facility. They split us up then, putting Lizard in one cubbyhole and me in another.

  A minute later, a teenage girl in a white jacket came in carrying a medi-kit and sat down in front of me. "How are you feeling?" I took inventory and reported, "Hoarse. Sore throat from the dust. Pressure in my chest. Trouble breathing. Lots of coughing. Pain. Eyes hurt. Ears hurt. I want a bath. I'm still cold. I feel great!" I grinned at her.

  She smiled sweetly but impersonally. "Okay, take off your shirt." She was already opening her kit.

  "Huh? Where's the doctor?"

  "I'm the doctor. Take off your shirt."

  "Uh-" I shut up and took off my shirt. She stuck poker chips to my chest, my arms, my neck and my temples.

  She studied her readouts, nodded, and blanked the screen before I could peek over her shoulder. She peered into my mouth, my nose, my eyes, and my ears. She nodded and said, "Mm hm. Wait a moment. I'll be right back."

  She returned with a tray. On it was a pressure injector, a glass of orange juice, and a small plastic container with a handful of capsules. "Antibiotics and vitamins," she explained. She touched the pressure injector to my arm. It hissed. I felt a cold wet sensation.

  She handed me the capsules and the orange juice. I took them without complaint. The juice was sweet and cold.

  "All right," she said. "You can put your shirt back on now." She left.

  The whole process had taken less than five minutes.

  As I fastened my shirt, I wondered if I should wait here-or what?

  I stuck my head out of the cubbyhole. A man in a jumpsuit with a Paul Bunyan patch over his heart was waiting there. "Lieutenant McCarthy?"

  I nodded.

  "Colonel Anderson requests your presence in the forward lounge. Follow me please?"

  I followed.

  The crewman led me to the forward lounge and told me to make myself comfortable. "Colonel Anderson will be along shortly. The bar is open if you want anything." Then he left.

  The lounge seemed almost as big as the loading bay. It had tall, slanting windows circling in a vast horseshoe. I stepped to the very front and peered out.

  The airship's running lights had been turned on again. There must have been a huge bank of spotlights just above the lounge, because the whole sky ahead glowed with the reflected light. It looked like we were plowing through pink fog. There was nothing else to see.

  I could feel a faint vibration beneath my feet. We were under power. Captain Price must be using the cold-rocket assist. No other engine would function in this weather.

  There was a well-stocked bar at the back of the lounge. I sauntered back and told the robot to make me a Staggering Buffalo and go easy on the soy. I found a seat by the window, still marveling at the sense of luxury in this airship. It was true; the heavy lifters had space to waste.

  "Lieutenant McCarthy?" I looked up. And up.

  The man had shoulders the size of Ohio. He had a broken nose and a beefy grin. He stuck out a paw at me. I stared at it for a few seconds before I realized what he wanted. I leapt to my feet and saluted. "Sir?"

  He returned my salute with something that looked more like a wave than a salute, then stuck out his hand again. I offered mine and he shook my hand gently. When he let go, I wanted to stare at my fingers. He hadn't crushed them.

  "I'm Danny Anderson," he said. His vo
ice resonated like the inside of a hangar. He had a smile as wide as the door. "I want to thank you for the job you did on my father. You saved his life."

  "Uh-I hate to disagree with a superior officer, sir-" Especially one as big as you. "-But I didn't do half the job I should have-"

  "Oh? Could you have done better than you did?" He raised a bushy eyebrow at me.

  "Sir, I did the very best I could. It just wasn't as good as I could have done if I'd had the proper supplies. We ran out of everything-"

  He started laughing. I stared at him. He caught himself and stopped, but the grin remained.

  He put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm not laughing at you, son. Colonel Tirelli told me you would do this. I'm trying to thank you and you're too busy devaluing your contribution to hear me. You're going to have to knock that off, Lieutenant."

  "Uh-" I was doing it again. "Right. Thank you, sir."

  "Good. Now, let me tell it to you again. You did a good job. You saved Captain Anderson's life. Colonel Tirelli is putting you in for a medal."

  I hardly heard the last. "Uh-thank you, sir. Uh, can I ask, how is Duke-Captain Anderson?"

  Danny Anderson hesitated. He looked embarrassed, and his voice went curiously flat. "It-uh, looks like he's going to make it. His vital signs steadied out as soon as we got him on Code Blue Maintenance. But it's still too early to say what kind of shape he's going to be in." And then he added quietly, "He might lose his legs."

  The balloon I'd been holding inside my chest suddenly lost all its air. I sank back down into my seat. "It's that red furry stuff, isn't it? I was afraid of this. I gave him terramycin, but I didn't know what else I could do-"

  Danny Anderson sat down opposite me. He put his hand on my shoulder again. "Hey!" he interrupted. "I thought I told you to knock that off."

  I gulped. "I'm sorry, sir. It's just-so damned frustrating! I mean-he's been like a dad to me, and-" I looked up at him. "Well-you know what he's like-"

  "No," he said, coldly. "I don't."

  "Huh-?"

  "Don't worry about it, McCarthy." There was something hard in his voice. "That's not your concern."

  "Oh. Uh-yes, sir. I-" shut up. And wondered.

  "Listen to me," he said. "What's done is done. This is it. This is how it turned out. Like it or not.

  "So stop arguing against me inside your head and let me congratulate you. The video that you and Colonel Tirelli brought back with you may be the most important recordings we've got. Those bunnydogs are incredible!"

  I swallowed hard. I said, "I think they may be the next step of the invasion."

  "I won't argue with you, Lieutenant. You had more opportunity to observe the creatures than anyone else."

  "Yes sir.

  "Now, I know you're tired and sore. I know you're probably hungry for a decent meal, a hot bath and a bed. We've got all of those waiting for you. But first-we want to debrief you while it's all still fresh in your memory. Can you manage that?"

  I nodded. "Get me a pitcher of coffee and a straw, and I'm yours. No, better make that an IV bottle."

  "Sorry, no coffee. We have tea and cocoa."

  "No coffee?"

  He shook his head. "Not at thirty caseys for a half-kilo of beans."

  "The bean-rot?"

  He nodded. "Congress closed the border. The only coffee you're going to get from now on will be greenhouse-bean. If you can afford it."

  "I'll have the cocoa, thanks."

  "Good. Now, we're going to set you up in one of the cabins with a standard ECO-6 debriefing program and two technicians. I'll try and stick my head in for a while too. Will that work for you?"

  I nodded.

  "Good." He clapped my shoulder. "Ready to go?"

  "I'll need something for my cough. An 0-mask?"

  "I'll have the doctor bring whatever you need."

  "Thank you, sir." I stood up and followed him aft.

  I made it almost three-quarters of the way through the debriefing before I started coughing and passed out.

  THIRTY

  I WOKE up again in the ambulance. We were slowing. There was something happening outside.

  I could hear someone with a bullhorn trying to give instructions to a crowd. They weren't listening. Scattered voices were hollering their defiance. I wondered if they were turning into a mob.

  I wondered where I was.

  I was flat on my back, staring at a plastic ceiling. I turned my head. A curtained window. I raised a hand. My chest ached. I pushed the curtain open.

  The day was still pink, the air, the sky-

  There were frightened people everywhere. On the lawns, on the driveways, and most of all, crowded around the emergency entrance. Some of them had been waiting all night for treatment. They looked tired and drawn. Their eyes were red, their faces were puffy. Was this turning into another plague? Would this be the one that finally destroyed our ability to resist?

  And then the ambulance was stopping and the orderlies slid me out like a side of beef and onto a cart. Somebody in white grabbed hold behind me, and then we were moving-quickly-through a sea of painful, anxious faces. Somebody else was parting the crowds ahead of us. I turned my head to look at them. The people were huddling in the entrance hall, five deep. They were lined up in ragged formations, waiting. I thought I saw military guards. Were we under attack? No, those were riot helmets.

  The hospital was a nightmare.

  It was a wall of noise-children crying, people arguing, somebody screaming. The sound pressed in like an assault; each component voice was edged with hysteria. A woman was shrieking with rage-

  -the cart lurched. And nearly toppled. The shrieking woman had grabbed it. She was screaming in my face. She yanked the blanket off me- "See! Another goddamn soldier! I knew it! The military is getting preferential treatment! They're going to let the rest of us die-!" And then they were pulling her off me, and the cart was rolling again, faster than before.

  I didn't see what happened to her.

  I heard voices. They were arguing about me. We were stopped again.

  "-I can't do anything more for him than's already been done. Give him a shot and an inhaler and send him home to rest-"

  "With third-degree pink lung?"

  "When it turns into dust poisoning bring him back-"

  "I'm not paid to take them home. I only deliver the meat-and this one's already signed in. He's got an army A-plus priority, and your Chief of Surgery already accepted delivery."

  "Did they also tell you where the hell we're going to put him? The halls are already full of air mattresses-"

  "That's not my problem. Here, read his chart-"

  "I can't do this! I'll have to pull the plug on someone else-"

  "That's not my problem."

  Suddenly, someone bent her face close to mine. She looked tired and angry. "Open your eyes!" she demanded. "Can you move?" I couldn't even speak. I made a noise-not even strong enough to be a moan. It turned into a cough. It came out pink.

  I think I won the argument.

  Now the cart was rolling again, this time faster than before-came awake again as they were sliding me onto a bed. I blinked through tears of pain, turned my head and squinted at the light.

  This was a private room!

  I tried to protest, but I didn't have even enough air to croak. I pointed toward the door, the unseen crowds, and waved my hand frantically-despite the pain it cost me.

  The nurse just pushed me back down and said, "No, you don't. Your job is to be here now." He was a chubby little man with a well-scrubbed face. He could have been anywhere between thirty and fifty. He looked like someone's maiden aunt, but he had surprisingly strong arms. He held me down and pushed a breathing mask onto my nose and mouth. "Now, just relax-" he said. "I'll be right here the whole time."

  I was dimly aware that something was happening. There were other people in the room now.

  Something bit my arm. I let go and floated. And waited to see if I was going to die.

  I watc
hed from above while they poked, they prodded, and they scanned. They set me up for DX studies and the Kelley series of broad-band vaccines, processes and affirmations. Then they "vacuumed" my lungs-which turned out to be nowhere near as painful as it sounded-and put me in an oxygen-helium tent.

  And then they left me alone. I floated and waited.

  The reaction set in the next morning.

  I woke up somewhere on the other side of death. I was trying to fight my way back, but I was smothering in marshmallow. I couldn't breathe.

  There were alarm bells ringing all around me. Sometime in the night, my lungs had decided enough was enough and begun to inflame.

  My chest was a balloon.

  I was trying to breathe. Nothing was happening. I was trying to scream, but no noise was coming out of my throat either. There was no air to scream with. Even as I thrashed on the bed, I knew I was doing the wrong thing.

  And then something cold touched my arm-and something bit me on the chest-and something wet was sliding down my throat-I faded out.

  And in again.

  I still couldn't breathe. I faded out again. And in. And out. I lost count.

  And then one night, I woke up gasping. My throat was raw.

  And dry. I wanted water. I managed to holler-and my lungs screamed in agony! That was a mistake. I wanted to die, just to end the pain.

  Somebody was saying something to me. "It's all right, Lieutenant. Just relax. See if you can relax." I tried to focus on the voice. All I saw was a blur. The room was too dim.

  "Don't talk," he said. He held me up gently, cradling me and feeding me soup in small delicious doses. "Just eat. I'll talk." It was the nurse with the very clean face.

  "Mmmf," I said, splurting soup.

  He wiped my mouth with a napkin. "You're at Oakland General. It's Monday evening and you've already missed tonight's episode of Derby. Too bad. It was a good one. Grant is still looking for the missing robot, but now he knows it's still in the plant. Carrie found out about the last DV-sale-T. J. told her, of course-and now she's demanding a stockholders' meeting. Everything depends on Stephanie, but she refuses to leave Hong Kong, and nobody knows why. Ready for more?"