Blood Soaked and Invaded - 02

by James Crawford

  “I couldn’t care less. I just want you. Come here.”

  I went there.

  Getting up in the morning was another story entirely. A twinge in my abdomen sat me up ramrod straight at 5:23:11am. The first full-blown cramp came 32 seconds later and I slapped my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming and waking up the woman beside me.

  The last time cramps like these showed up was during the first phase of the nanotech “breeding” program. I’d hoped those days were gone forever, but it looked like that hope was being dashed against the rocks. No such luck. I could feel the urge to scavenge tickling the back of my throat.

  Glass was the first thing on the menu.

  I saw a Mason jar on one of my shelves, one that I’m sure had originated in Yolanda’s kitchen until I’d appropriated as a water glass. As a passenger in my own body, I saw my hands reach out, grab it, and bring it to my mouth. Silently, I waited for a brittle crunch and sharp pain.

  I started to lick it, lovingly, and felt a wave of satisfaction wash through me. Grateful I wouldn’t have a mouth full of lacerations, I relaxed a little bit into the experience, but that didn’t last very long. More cramps gripped me as soon as I put the glass down.

  My sense of smell was cranked up to 11, but I couldn’t smell anything in the room my body wanted. With strangely stiff legs, I left the room and stumbled down the stairs. A whiff of something caused my stomach to growl loudly and saliva to fill my closed mouth. I darted across the sales floor to an area I’d seldom visited: craft and hobby supplies.

  A sheet of silvery metal from the nicely organized stack of file boxes nearly dissolved under my fingers before I could bring it to my mouth. It didn’t last long after my saliva got to it. Once again, I felt like a baby after sucking down the last drop in the bottle. As awful as the cramps and being walked around like an automaton felt, the post-feeding joy was quite lovely.

  “Frank, what in the hell are you doing?”

  “Good morning sunshine! My critters are on a feeding frenzy over something,” a brand new cramp bent me over, naked, in the aisle, “and I don’t think they’re quite finished!”

  “Oh, baby! Is there anything I can do to help out?”

  She started to come down the stairs, making maternal clucking noises. At any other time I might have found that really adorable and comforting, but I was a bit preoccupied with my enraged tummy.

  I managed to stand up between episodes and take a big breath. The scent of my next quarry wriggled up my nostrils, and I shot across the store to the cleaning and floor care products. There, my target revealed itself.

  A can of floor wax... what the fuck?

  My hand touched the can and dissolved the metal so quickly that it looked like a magic trick. Once my fingers touched the waxy goop inside the cramping eased up. Breathing a sigh of relief, I was silently grateful I didn’t have to lick the wax to absorb it. The taste would have been horribly memorable.

  “Do you have any idea,” Charlie asked from across the floor, “why the nanobots would want a sheet of Nickel Silver?”

  “That’s what it was?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know. Any thoughts about a can of floor wax?”

  “No, but I bet your skin will be smooth and silky, with that freshly polished sheen!”

  She laughed at me and I tolerated it. After all, whatever my body had decided to do, it looked likely to me that she’d be next. Then again, the pregnancy might keep her nanotech busy with other things.

  My eyes crossed, and I lifted my hand out of the empty can, loathing attention deficit for being able to switch my trains of thought without as much as a “by your leave.” The new train of thought was “permutations on the theme of baby.”

  “Damn, Frank! You must be thinking big thoughts. You didn’t even comment on what I said!”

  I turned to look at her and gave her a wan little smile. Her eyebrows went straight up, and I’m willing to bet she saw right through me. Not literally, I hope.

  “Ok. I’ve seen that look on your face before, and it means you’re chapping your own ass about something,” she said, closing the distance between us. “You need to stop that. Chapping your ass is MY job now... Smile like you mean it, damn it!”

  I stood up straight with a tiny wail.

  “That’s not a smile, Frank.”

  “I think I’m about to get rid of the material the nanobots didn’t need. Excuse me,” I said, and sprinted for the bathroom door.

  It was epic. That is all I will say about it.

  Wisely, my dearest didn’t ask me any questions when I emerged from the room of repose. Instead, she suggested we wash up and start our day, since we were already up and moving. I nodded and followed her into the Spa, making a Herculean effort not to share my experience of moments before.

  Getting cleaned up was a marvelous, marvelous plan. I certainly got something out of it. (As a side note to post-apocalyptic hedonists, having your lover wash your back is an absolute joy.) I’m also pretty certain that she had a pleasant time, too.

  I hope we didn’t wake Shawn. Since we didn’t hear anything like a thunderous bellow telling us to shut up, I declared us to be safe from Brotherly Retribution.

  Chunhua probably heard us giggle and turned her super secret listening powers up to “fry squirrels.” In all honesty, if I’m going to have a neighbor who has an interest in my sex life, I’m glad it’s her. She’s a cheerleader, not a creeper... Maybe.

  We were a little shocked when Shoei Omura broke the morning silence between our ears.

  “Good morning, everyone. There are going to be some loud noises in a few minutes. Don’t worry about them–we’re getting a supply delivery. Shawn, your packages are arriving. Yolanda and Ómer, you are also receiving what you requested as our de-facto Quartermasters. That’s all.”

  Charlie and I exchanged quizzical looks.

  “I just realized something,” I said. “They didn’t just turn us into a gulag. They’ve been turning us into a base of operations.”

  “I guess that’s why the other doctors didn’t leave and Jeff’s little crew showed up.” She ran her fingers through her wet hair and gave it a toss. “Makes me wonder if we’re going to be getting more personnel on top of them. We definitely need more hard science people to dissect that flying saucer thing.”

  “I don’t know, but we know someone who probably does.”

  With one or two imaginary pokes on my personal heads-up display I started a little conference call between Omura and the two of us.

  “Good morning, you two,” he said.

  “You sound chipper today,” Charlie commented.

  “I guess I do. I had a good run and look forward to digging into that wreckage after breakfast.”

  “Sweet. Charlie and I were wondering about our little city-state and decided to share our curiosity with you.”

  “Ah! Let me guess. You want to know if our ranks are going to expand, now that the tech is under control. Am I right?”

  “You are a mind reader.” Charlie’s sarcasm was prickly, even in brain-to-brain communication.

  “No. I was going to broach the topic at lunchtime, but I don’t see any reason not to spill the beans with you two right now. The short answer is yes. We’re starting an operating base here, and we will be getting about fifty combat volunteers over the next few weeks. They aren’t going to replace the doctors and nurses we’ve lost, but we will be getting a pile of MIT/CALTECH level people by the end of the week.”

  It was a good thing we weren’t talking out loud. Something large and noisy came down over the roof of the store and settled down not far away.

  “Ah,” Omura said, “that’s the stealth helicopter arriving. Excellent.”

  “Shoei, that isn’t stealth at all! It was loud as all get out!”

  “Frank, did you hear it approaching?”

  “No, Shoei, I didn’t.”

  “I rest my case.”

  Shoei Omura: US Government black o
ps, mysterious background, cold-blooded zombie killer, smart ass.

  “Do you think you might’ve told everyone about this before today?” Charlie inquired.

  “There’s a timeliness issue associated with a distributed chain of command. I didn’t find out until last night. Remember, I don’t get asked–I get told.”

  My perturbed partner gave us the mental equivalent of a derisive snort and dropped out of the conversation.

  “I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised,” I sent to him.

  “No, not really. I’m sure things will become even more interesting when our Superiors process that zombies are the start of an alien invasion.”

  “Shoei, you don’t think they’ll go for scorched Earth, do you?”

  “Frank, I sincerely hope not. Anyway, today has enough worry in it to borrow things from the future we can’t know. If you and Miss Cooper aren’t booked with other things, I’d love to have your help with laying out all the UFO wreckage in the big garage.”

  “What? Are you doing it like the FAA does with plane crash debris?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh, cool! We’ll drop by in a bit.”

  “Thanks,” he said and closed the link.

  Charlie gave me a funny look, which I returned.

  “You realize we’ve been standing here in nothing but bath towels all this time?”

  I looked down. What could I say? She was right.

  “Maybe we should put on pants if we want to keep fighting for our lives today?”

  “I don’t care about that right now,” she replied. “My nips are so hard I could cut glass. It’s chilly with no clothes on!”

  I leered at her, full of interesting thoughts about anatomy, stained glass windows and the eternal art of the female form. She dropped the towel, and stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. It would have been sublime if not for the look of annoyance on her face.

  “I’m going to find some clothes, Frank the Pervert. You can hang out here with goose bumps and boner if you want, but there’s coffee out there someplace and I mean to find it.”

  Hola señor. Los hermanos Panza y yo estamos un poco frio tambien. (Hello sir. The Panza brothers and I are a little cold, too.)

  In the end, I deferred to my mariachi and my girl. The time for pants and coffee had arrived.

  A little while later we were dressed and about ready to make our debut in the outside world, when I remembered something I’d forgotten. I hadn’t cleaned the Man Scythe the night before, and I knew what leaving gunk on the blade would do to the steel. I asked Charlie to go over to B2 without me. She nodded, kissed me on the forehead, and headed out to Coffee Land.

  I followed her down the stairs and took my baby to the bathroom to wash down her blade. It was a good thing I remembered; the blood had already started to stain the metal. A little soap and water got the dried blood and other fluids off, but I’d have to spend a little time with stones and metal polish later on in order to bring it back to pristine condition.

  After I dried it well, I folded the blade back into the curved frame and gave it a final wipe down with the towel. I noticed something odd when I put the towel down. There was a handprint etched into the titanium frame that hadn’t been there when I brought it downstairs.

  My body wanted titanium and just leeched some from my weapon. Not good! I wrapped it up in a dry towel and took it back upstairs. I’d make do with another weapon for the day, until I could find another titanium object to scavenge from.

  I put the Man Scythe on my desk, and opened my gun drawer. After a quick look, I chose a .45, with two clips and a holster. For my blade of the day, I decided to kick it old school with my original katana, the blade I’d used before the Man Scythe, and set off to meet Charlie for breakfast and coffee.

  Chapter 22

  Major Kenney’s people were having a run as I left the store. Some of Jeff Andrews’ crew was with them. I hoped to run into Jeff himself, since I’d not seen him in a bit.

  That’s the strange thing about living in a small, isolated community–you become accustomed to seeing everyone at least once a day. Ever since the new buildings and people appeared, it’d become less likely to see everyone as frequently. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Gina and Mark, Barry and Kathleen, or Darcy and her husband.

  Just to comfort myself, I looked at the map in my head and located everyone. They were scattered all over the neighborhood, and it looked like they were occupied with something. Good.

  I was pleased to note that Gina and Mark appeared to be in the cafeteria. She might have a little too much energy to cope with in the morning, but I’d feel better for confirming what the sensors told me.

  “Mr. Stewart.”

  I turned around when I heard my name to find Major Kenney in standard BDUs, walking towards me with a sinister-looking bundle in his hands.

  “Good morning, Major.” I gave him a jaunty wave.

  “I was coming to see you and give you one of these,” he said, holding up the bundle–a large handgun of some kind, or so it seemed.

  “What is it?”

  “It is,” he handed it to me, “your new standard issue sidearm.”

  The thing looked like a cross between a Heckler & Koch and a sawed-off, single barrel shotgun. I could have put my pinkie finger down the barrel with room to spare. For the size, it was surprisingly light.

  “What does it fire? For that matter, where does the ammo go?” I turned the thing over in my hands and couldn’t find anything I recognized other than the grip, trigger and barrel.

  Major Kenney laughed–sounding more relaxed than I’d ever heard him. Maybe he’d gotten together with Riley the night before and made hideous love to her? I couldn’t help but hope it was the case, and that she was equally relaxed, if powerfully sore, today.

  “It fires the same thing our rifles do: a copper jacketed carbide crystal mass that expands on impact. The clip,” he took it back from me, and popped the cartridge out of the base of the grip, “is in the typical place. It holds the battery that the weapon needs to fire the slug and ammo for fifty shots.”

  “They have to be the size of breath mints to fit in a box that small!”

  “They are. Think of it like a hand-held railgun, and you’ll get it.” He handed it back to me, and I felt like he’d just handed me a hand grenade with the pin pulled out. “So. You heading over for joe and a donut?”

  “Yes...”

  “Mind if I tag along?”

  “No...”

  “Fine. Let’s get a move on, my guts are complaining.”

  Kenney walks with an indomitable stride. Nothing and no one would stand in the way of his determination. It suited me fine to follow in his wake, and I bet it prevented me from being distracted along the way, too.

  I caught up with him as he swung open the door to the cafeteria proper and heard him mutter to himself.

  “Fuck yeah. Bacon.”

  He moved like a greased eel around tables and people, grabbing a plate and piling it high with pork products and eggs. Yolanda watched him like a hawk from the other end of the buffet as she put out dishes of yogurt and fresh fruit. Her vigilant gaze didn’t waver until he’d found a seat and began to plow through his breakfast. I couldn’t tell if she disliked him or was worried about running out of bacon.

  I picked Charlie out of a small crowd of people enjoying better food than they’d seen in quite a long time. It gave me a bit of pause, because we’d been used to a surprising level of luxury before the military showed up. We’d traded for food, hunted, grew or made our own necessities, and things had worked out phenomenally well. How easy to lose track of the fact that others weren’t getting by as easy as we did then, or now.

  Before I went to the buffet, I set my new gun and katana down in the free chair at her table. We exchanged a quick smooch, and I made my way over to the grand spread of food on the other side of the room. My brain was still stuck in “how lucky we are” mode.

  I remained
very thoughtful and grateful until I sat down beside her with a modest plate of food and a cup of coffee.

  “Frank, you never told me that Yolanda and Ómer had owned a restaurant,” Charlie said by way of greeting.

  “Sorry honey, I just took it for granted.” Therein lay the problem, I think.

  “Gina and Mark were telling me about how they met at Yolanda’s place for their first date. It was so cute!”

  Gina bounced around in her seat, as perky as usual, with one arm wrapped through her husband’s arm. Mark looked like his normal self, quiet, if a little happier than I’d seen him in a while.

  “And!” Gina went on. “After we got married, we went there for dinner one night, and she told us about a house in her neighborhood that’d gone on the market that very morning!”

  “I thought it would be a good location, so we drove by and took a look after dinner,” Mark elaborated.

  “It was perfect! We put a contract down the next day and the rest is history!”

  “Wow, honey,” Charlie said, clapping her hands for their success, “that is a super story! I’m so glad for the two of you.”

  It is that kind of breakfast, warm, friendly, yummy, that makes you relax. I shouldn’t have been relaxing, but this is why they call it “20/20 hindsight.”

  We finished up breakfast, loaded ourselves for bear, and walked over to the garage to help Omura with reconstructing the vehicle we’d brought back. Charlie tapped him to let him know to expect us in a minute or two. She let me know how appreciative he was, which made us both smile.

  By the time we got there, the semi-trailer had been unloaded and a random pile of wreckage sat under the first double-wide garage door. Shawn was pacing up and down beside it, peering intensely at the strangely familiar and unfamiliar parts. Chunhua was standing against the wall, right inside the door, looking very uncomfortable.

  “Chu,” Charlie called out. “Why do you look like someone’s walking on your grave?”

  “It’s this,” she said, pointing at the debris. “It feels... icky to be around it.”

  “Define ‘icky’, please,” Omura said, coming around from the opposite side of the pile.