“Biggie, the alien that rode around in me, lied to the Grays about how much he would leave behind when he left. I feel like I know things about this sort of craft and I wish I didn’t. I feel sick being around it.”
“You realize, I’m going to ask you to look at those memories, right?”
“I know Omura. I know.” She sat down on the cold concrete. “They grow the shell in the water, and fit the machinery in later. It’s like a giant specialized oyster.”
“What I want to know,” Shawn interrupted, “is how these Progeny know how to do all this. I mean, they were born here, right?”
“Genetic memory, my Bear,” Chunhua explained, shivering a little. “They’re born here, but grow to maturity in a matter of months. The older they get, the more dangerous they are.”
“I’m guessing you held back a little information when we debriefed you the other morning,” Omura said, rubbing his eyes. “Is there anything else you’d like to share?”
“I’m not holding things back because I want to. The information isn’t there until it shows up. I really want these images in my head to go away!”
“I’ve got an idea,” I piped up. “Chu, you know what this thing is supposed to look like, right?”
“Yes, Frank.”
“Tell us what goes where, so we can sort out the parts!” I felt brilliant.
“Okay.”
With her help, we had the outline of the craft’s shell laid out in two hours. Her input was also incredibly useful at sorting out what mechanical parts went where under that carapace. We didn’t need her help to figure out the placement of the cockpit. It was simple logic.
“Shawn, do you see the tube beside the parts of hollow globe?”
“Yeah, Chu. This one that looks swollen, like it burst?”
“Yes. That is what caused the craft to crash. It was either a manufacturing flaw or they couldn’t get the right materials.”
“Now that might be a point in our favor,” Omura smiled, “if they can’t build their products to spec. Good. Real good.” He looked up as though an idea had come to him. “Baj is helping Jayashri with the autopsy, but he needs to get his ass over here as soon as he’s available. I’m giving him a buzz.”
All three of us watched his face go gray under the lights of the gigantic garage. He spun on one heel and ran for the nearest trashcan, where he deposited the entire contents of his digestive tract. After a few dry heaves, he managed to stand up and move slowly to the closest workbench. He ripped off some paper towels and wiped off his chin.
“Did you guys know you can see through someone’s eyes if they let you?”
“Yeah, Shoei. I knew that.” I answered him, feeling really sorry for his experience.
“Next time you discover a new superpower, fucking tell me about it. Sumira’s insides are an incredibly unpleasant thing to see when you’re not ready for it.”
“I feel pretty sure,” Shawn said, fondling a chunk of wreckage, “we’re gonna remember that with no problem.”
“I don’t suppose Baj gave any indication of when he’d be free?”
“No, Frank,” belch, “he didn’t.” Omura still looked green around the gills. “I need to find a bottle of water or something.”
He wandered off for a while, leaving us to shift the parts around under Chunhua’s direction and Shawn’s instincts for mechanical devices. By the time Omura returned, Buttons in tow, we had a rough layout of the internal workings of the craft on the other side of the garage floor.
“Omura said this big cylinder thing,” I pointed at the object on the floor, “is probably the weapon housing. Don’t those things look like alternators from car engines?”
“Yeah. They’re alternators,” Shawn said, stepping gently over and around the pieces so he could squat down for a better look at the assembly. “From the look of them, they came out of some kind of emergency vehicle. I’m guessing 330 amps per unit, and there are ten units. The total output if these things run in tandem is 3,300 amps. Not a small amount of electrical current.”
“Shawn, do you think that is part of the weapon or whatever it is that made this thing fly?”
“Omura, you’re asking the wrong guy. This isn’t an internal combustion engine, just parts that seem like they came from one. For all I know these are Tesla-style alternators, not General Motors. Now, if you want a guess, I’d say these aren’t for the weapon.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Three thousand amps is a lot, but I can’t imagine it would produce enough bang to turn four people into charcoal.”
Shawn and Omura continued walking around the internal components, carefully, pointing out things that looked familiar. Buttons squatted on his haunches and looked the whole thing over, keeping his thoughts to himself. Charlie, Chu and I clustered over by the garage door, keeping ourselves company.
Eventually, Buttons stood up and walked over to us. I was slightly surprised he’d seek out social interaction, but I waited to see what would happen before making any smart remarks.
“Good morning, Miss Cooper.”
He addressed her more politely than I would have imagined. I suppose even old dogs with antiquated nanotech could learn new tricks.
“Hello there, Mr. Buttons. How are you today?”
“Well, thank you. I would like to speak with you in your professional capacity when it is convenient for you.”
Well, I’ll be damned.
“Is something bothering you?”
“Yes. It is of a personal nature, and I would rather discuss it in private, Miss Cooper... If you don’t mind?”
Charlie nodded and turned to me.
“Frank, would it bother you if I used the meeting room in the store for this?”
“Uh, no. Not at all.”
“Perfect. When would be good for you, Mr. Buttons,” she cheerfully asked.
“I feel as though I will be studying this,” he indicated the wreckage, “intensely for the rest of today and most of tomorrow. Might I ask for 8pm tomorrow?”
“Certainly. We’ll meet then.”
“Very good. It would also please me if you would call me ‘Bernard’. I find that my nickname is less pleasant every day.”
We all nodded, dumbstruck to greater and lesser degrees. Was Mister Lizard becoming more human? I hoped so.
“Omura and I discussed this on the way here. Matt, ‘Flower’, is training with the new sidearm behind B2 right now. You three might find it very useful to learn from him. His skill with firearms is impressive, and the new weapon is quirky.”
“That’s a great idea!” I was eager to do something other than stand there, watching everyone pour over the machinery. “Let’s go do that. How about it, Charlie? Chunhua?”
“Yes, let’s do that. Thank you for the recommendation, Bernard,” she said.
“My pleasure.”
He turned and squatted down to resume his inspection of the organized chaos of parts on the floor. Knowing we’d been functionally dismissed, we left the garage for impromptu weapons training.
“He’s improved a lot,” Chunhua remarked as we walked along the wall, taking the long way to B2. “I wonder if the patch to the nanotechnology helped at all?”
“I don’t know. He’s an interesting case, that’s for damned sure,” Charlie commented, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have to kill him one of these days.”
“He didn’t make a good impression on anyone, least of all you,” I said to her.
“I felt a little better after I beat him up, but not much.”
I smiled, remembering how she kicked him in the balls and broke his nose after he’d insulted her. Yeah, messing with my love isn’t a hot idea.
A moment later, the three of us froze in mid-step. Thirteen new dots suddenly appeared on our internal maps, and it came as something of a surprise.
“Well, looks like some of our new angels just got their wings,” Charlie mused.
“Andrews, all his
people, and most of the remaining medical staff,” Chu added. “I guess that means the doctors are staying, too.”
“Well, if they’re turning us into some kind of base, it stands to reason. Jayashri would be overwhelmed pretty quickly if something awful happened.”
I had to agree with Charlie. Not only that, but we would need the help on our “Away Missions,” once they started to occur more regularly. I imagined that day wouldn’t be too far off. We had Progeny to locate and destroy, as well as every zombie horde they point us at.
We kept musing on topics like those until we heard someone giggling behind B2.
Matt Wilson, “Flower,” is tall, lean, and very serious most of the time. I found it a little shocking to see him, bopping around without a shirt on, giggling and clutching one of our new guns to his chest. He stopped in mid-prance when he saw us staring at him.
“Ahem. Good morning.”
“Hi Matt. Having a good time?” I tried to keep the amusement off my face, but my mouth gave my feelings away.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. The new sidearm is a thing of beauty.” He bobbed his head a little, turned, and placed the weapon on a nearby 55-gallon drum.
When he turned I discovered where his nickname came from. A tattoo covered the center of his back. It depicted two hands clasped, holding a single lily. An ornate scroll-style banner ran under the hands, featuring the word “Peace” in Gothic type.
It was the sort of ink you might find on the back of a biker or a sniper.
“Dude!” Charlie squealed and rushed over to him while his back was turned. “Who did your ink? That is incredible shading!
He laughed and looked back at her over his shoulder.
“I had that done almost fifteen years ago while I was in Thailand by a little guy who called himself ‘Bohpu’. The shading is still holding up?”
“Yeah! I wouldn’t have guessed it to be so old with so little bleed in the fine lines.”
“I guess it was worth the hundred bucks,” he said with a laugh. “You guys came to mess with the new gun?”
Matt had turned around to face us, but Charlie had moved with him, so she could keep studying his tattoo. Chu and I nodded at him. He smiled, and picked his pistol up off the drum.
“I see you’ve got one already, Frank. Have you fired it yet?”
“No. It’s a little intimidating.”
He smiled at me, and reached behind to his back with his free hand to pull Charlie around so he could talk to all of us at once. As she reluctantly shuffled over to me, he looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
“Charlotte? You’re expecting. Congrats!”
“What did you just say, Matt?”
“You’re pregnant, at least that is what your status readout in my head is saying. Didn’t you know?”
“Oh shit,” she whispered. “I didn’t even think about that.”
Matt looked around, mystified, probably wondering if he’d missed something somewhere.
“We were going to wait to tell people, Matt. That’s all. It didn’t occur to us that anyone who looked at her would get a status report.”
“Oh. I’m going to take a wild guess that you’re the father, Frank. I’m happy for you both... if you’re happy about it. Are you?”
“We’re pretty pleased. Surprised, but pleased.”
“Good.” He grinned at us. “Now we have the awkward moment out of the way. Let’s mess with high-tech firearms!”
Charlie, Chu, and I cheered.
I have to say, Matt is an excellent instructor. I learned most of my firearm skills through on-the-job training, rather than by going to a range and getting classroom instruction, and it became clear how much I’d missed. Then again, how many people get classroom training from an experienced sniper? I can’t imagine everyone would be so fortunate.
As for the gun itself–I’d seen the rifle version in action days before, and it scared the shit out of me–the destructive power was immense. Matt shot an empty steel container, a 55-gallon drum like the one near us, over a block away, and it was almost vaporized by the impact.
No wonder the ass who assaulted me was reduced to legs and bloody Jell-o.
“There is a drawback,” Matt pointed out. “These weapons are not capable of bursts or full automatic fire.”
“Do we really need that?” Charlie asked him, holding my pistol at arm’s length.
“Oh, I don’t know. Being able to lay down large amounts of covering fire and cause that much damage at the same time?” Matt got a dreamy look on his face. So much for having been a priest! “It makes my heart go pitter-pat.”
Charlie walked up to the imaginary firing line and took a look around.
“Anyone living in that house over by the wall? The one with the green shutters.”
“No,” I answered. “That one has been vacant for at least a year.”
“Nice.” She lifted the gun, sighted down the barrel, and pulled the trigger.
The weapon makes very little noise. You hear something that is a cross between a whir and the word “shit”–after that, there’s a boom somewhere.
Charlie’s shot blew a car-size hole in the exposed part of the foundation.
“Daaaaaaaamn.” Charlie sighed, and it sounded like love to me.
The rest of us just nodded. What else can you do or say to follow up destruction of that kind?
Chunhua knew what to say.
“Can I try that?”
A short time later the house collapsed. Some of Major Kenney’s troops dropped in to ask us some pointed questions, and we took the resultant slap on our wrists with adequate humility.
It was a fun early afternoon!
I had a bit more pride and sense of responsibility when I strapped that gun to my thigh. A moment later, I had a thought double me over in a fit of laughter.
“Okay, Frank. Share with the rest of the class,” Matt said, tapping me on my shaking shoulder.
“I just wondered about asking Omura if we could go zombie hunting tonight,” gasp, “and then I thought about skeet shooting with zombies. Pull! ‘Nooooooooo!’ Splat!”
Charlie turned away from me and hugged Chunhua, who returned the hug with enough melodrama to make Gilbert and Sullivan wince.
“I am sorry, my fair sister! The father of your child is a madman! Woe for our family! Woe for our people!” Chunhua laid her face in her delicate fingers, exuding melodramatic gravitas from every pore.
“Oh, my dark sister! My heart wilts and my soul crumbles, knowing my child will be born to a barbarian father!” Charlie followed suit in the land of melodrama, but raised her face and arms to the sky instead of putting her face in her hands.
Matt and I exchanged glances.
“You know,” he said to me, “I don’t envy you at all.”
“Yes, Matt. I know. Who knew the Great Grungy Zombie Hunter would come to an end like this?”
“I will speak at your graveside. It will be my honor. Do you prefer lilies or another appropriate fragrant flower?”
“White roses. Dozens of them.” I nodded vigorously. “When you remember me to posterity, please be kind.”
“Quit it, y’all,” Charlie said, fists on her hips. “We do not like being upstaged by boys.”
Chapter 23
The four of us retired to the cafeteria, and sat around being snarky over bottled water. It was a good afternoon. The only strange moment came when I put my empty water bottle down and there were holes in the bottle where my fingers had been.
“Wow, I’m making the baby, but you’re the hungry one.” Charlie shook her head.
“I guess my skull is being reinforced with nickel silver, titanium, silicon, floor wax and plastic. I think I’d start screaming if I actually knew what was going on in here.” I looked at my hands, turned them over, and then shrugged.
Bajali wandered into the room, and we waved him over. He looked very tired, and flopped into the chair beside me. Until that moment, I had never seen him wilt.
�
��Tired?”
“Francis, you have no idea. I have assisted on three separate autopsies since last night. I have yet to explore the organized debris in the garage.” He ran his hands through his hair, and it left him with Mad Scientist bed head. No one laughed. “I exposed the other medical staff to the modified nanomachines before I left. I do not want to be the only person able to help my wife disassemble bodies.”
“Did you learn anything interesting from the alien body?” Matt asked, leaning over the table with great interest.
“I believe we will be studying that body for many years before we understand anything beyond the basics. It has muscles, bones, nerves, and a brain located where we would expect it to be, but that is where the similarities end. Jayashri is still in the lab, starting genetic sequencing on all the bodies.”
“Well, we did find out yesterday, that cutting open Sumira released a hell of a lot of viral material into the air,” Charlie reminded us.
“Yes. There is a set of sacs along the inside edges of her lower mandible, about where our lymph nodes are located, that are packed full of viral spores. Doctor Humphries punctured one of them when he degloved the skull.”
Chunhua turned a pleasant shade of gray, stood up, and patted Bajali on his shoulder.
“I’m going to get this man some food and something to drink. Feel free to continue this discussion while I’m gone–then stop when I get back.”
We watched Chu run to the kitchen, and wished we’d had that idea.
Bajali, it seemed, needed to talk to people about the interesting things he’d seen over the preceding 24 hours. He’d seen some very, very unsettling things.
The corpse of the zombie who’d gracefully decapitated himself in a fit of existential angst showed significant differences from baseline human beings. Thicker bones, super dense muscle mass, and an entirely different strain of the zombie virus in his bloodstream. This new strain appeared to be self-replicating, unlike the variety my father unleashed on the world.
Unsurprisingly, “Sumira,” little Miss Alien, had the same strain in the pouches inside her jaw line. We’d already seen how contagious it could be, and what it could do to the recently deceased–turn them into zombies almost straight away.
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