by E. R. Torre
These words proved a revelation to Samantha.
“That’s why Frank didn't want Doctor Evans to look him over!”
“He protested quite a bit, didn’t he?” Doctor Evans said. “If you remember, he was willing to let me examine him only after I insisted I was a scientist and not a medical Doctor.”
“Then when Frank dropped that remote control he...he did it on purpose?”
“That’s how you guys found out about the helicopter’s sabotage?” Spradlin asked. “Very clever, Captain Masters. You knew Samantha would be suspicious about the emergency landing, so you purposely left behind evidence to prove sabotage was the cause.” General Spradlin turned from Frank back to Samantha. “I suppose you confronted Captain Masters about the remote, and, after some polite protestation, he was only too happy to attribute that sabotage to me. Let me guess what happened next: You tell the others in the group and very soon everyone is suspicious of me and my men. We’re the bad guys. Divide and conquer.”
“When did you first suspect?” Frank Masters asked.
“Well before boarding the chopper and well before Bad Penny went dark. I knew the ACUs planet-side were looking real hard for their three missing comrades. We’ve found high security computers hacked and information stolen. I figured you guys might make a move on the base.”
“And you let this happen? You let all those people die?” Jennie Light said.
“We had a strategy in place,” General Spradlin said. His voice was low. “A strategy that would have avoided all this bloodshed. But we were too late to implement it. Our hand was tipped.”
“The British agent,” Becky Waters said.
“The one element we couldn’t –didn’t– anticipate,” General Spradlin said. “When Bad Penny went dark, we scrambled. The Little Charlie was the last flight out, and we had to isolate it. We feared one or more of our three captured ACUs were on board, or any of their friends. We quickly examined each of your personnel files. I needed to know if there was a chance anyone on this flight showed any sign of being an ACU. As it happened, I found three suspects: Private Thompson, Private Bartlett, and you, Frank. Each one of you moved within military circles for a while seeking, and receiving, entry into departments that brought you closer and closer to my organization and, more specifically, Bad Penny. The three of you made sure you’d eventually get a job here. And when Doctor Evans examined your injury, I knew for sure.”
The machine that was Frank Masters considered the information.
“I would have roasted you then and there, but I still wasn't certain about Thompson and Bartlett,” General Spradlin continued. “I did my own version of divide and conquer when I sent Private Waters and Colonel Robinson, two people who could handle themselves very well with their weapons, with Private Thompson. Private Bartlett, meanwhile, took it upon himself to go out with Private Light. I followed them, to make sure nothing happened. Your fellow chameleons went ahead and killed both Bartlett and Thompson. It left only you.”
“Couldn't be helped,” Frank Masters said. “We'll adapt.”
The neutral look on Frank’s face sent a chill down Becky and Samantha’s spines. The tone of his voice was one of triumph, not defeat.
“What are you hiding?” Becky said.
There was a gasp, and the members of the group turned away from General Spradlin and Frank Masters. With a trembling hand, Jennie Light pointed to the Mess Hall’s south side windows.
Everyone looked in that direction. Just outside the Mess Hall building there were at least two dozen black forms surrounding the building and slowly making their way its entrance.
“General?” Jennie Light said.
“He can’t stop them,” Frank Masters said.
“Don't let them in,” Spradlin said.
“How exactly do you intend to do that?” Frank Masters said.
Sweat ran down Spradlin’s forehead and cheek.
“It was easy convincing you to come to the Mess Hall,” Frank Masters said. “Once inside, it was even easier to surround you. I’m surprised, General. I thought you'd be a better adversary. There’s no way out, now.”
General Spradlin used his free hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
“How long have you been a scout?” Spradlin asked.
“Does it matter?” Frank replied.
“It doesn’t, I suppose,” Spradlin said. He eyed the handle of the black blade and loosened his grip on it. “Perhaps I'll just let this go...”
Frank Master’s smile faded. His facial expression became an unemotional cipher.
“I am an automated unit,” Frank said. “Though my speech patterns and outward display of emotions might appear genuine, I am not susceptible to intimidation or torture. Your threats are meaningless.”
“Then indulge me,” General Spradlin said. “I've known Captain Frank Masters for a long time. Was it really him, or was I dealing with one of you all along?”
“I replaced the real Frank Masters over twenty years ago,” the chameleon said. “This was shortly after his parents were killed in an auto accident.”
“You arranged it?”
“Of course.”
The chameleon’s smile returned.
“At the time, Frank Masters was in the process of joining the special forces,” the thing continued. “He completed his physicals. Taking over for him proved an easy substitution.”
“But you fought so valiantly,” Spradlin said. “You saved so many lives.”
“Part of the act. Had I known back then you worked for Oscuro—”
“Who told you about Oscuro?”
“We have our agents, General. You know that.”
“Why did you let us live? Why didn’t you kill us back in the forest?”
“We needed to learn everything you knew about us,” Frank Masters said. “In that respect, you’ve been very accommodating.”
General Spradlin’s face turned pale.
“Your history lesson was most interesting,” the chameleon continued. “Our hosts will value this information for years to come. Especially the knowledge that there are only twelve people outside of your organization aware of us. Finding them won’t be easy, but we’ll manage.”
“Bastard,” Spradlin spat. “At least you won't be giving them that information.”
The fingers on General Spradlin’s right hand, the one that held the blade, moved. In a fraction of a second the blade’s electrical pulse would be released. However, Frank Masters proved quicker. He grabbed General Spradlin’s hand and pressed down, locking it back in place around the blade’s handle.
“No you don't,” Frank Masters said.
General Spradlin tried to free himself. Frank applied more force and the sound of brittle bones breaking was heard through the Mess Hall. Blood dripped from between Frank’s closed hand.
“What the hell are you going to do?” Spradlin muttered between clenched teeth. “Take me with you?
Frank Masters gave the General an ice cold smile.
“I don’t need you,” he said. “All I need is your hand.”
There came a sickening snap. General Spradlin fell onto the ground. Blood splattered onto the floor. The General’s right hand was gone.
In a smooth, mechanical motion, Frank Masters stood up. The injury to his leg, still grotesque in appearance, did not hinder his movements at all. Frank’s hands remained over his chest, holding on to General Spradlin’s detached right hand which, in turn, remained gripped to the black blade.
The rest of the group took a step back, their guns drawn. No one dared fire at such close range. Frank Masters ignored them and looked down at the General. The General’s wound was bleeding profusely.
“It will be over for you soon, General,” Frank Masters said. He looked up at the group. “And your little group.”
“Let them go,” General Spradlin said.
“You know that can’t be,” Frank Masters replied. “I must congratulate you. You’ve made it quite far. Your only failure wa
s in underestimating how many of us infiltrated this base.”
Behind him, some fifty feet away, the Mess Hall door was forced opened. Debris intended to barricade the entry was pushed aside as if it were nothing more than cardboard and tissue. Several mechanical beings, their bodies covered in blood and gore, stepped into the Hall. Behind them came another wave, then another, until there were well over forty ACUs in the Mess Hall.
The survivors of the Little Charlie huddled together around General Spradlin. They heard a noise and turned the other way. The double doors leading into the kitchen opened and several more waves of chameleons emerged. They too were covered in blood and gore. They had pretended to be corpses only moments before.
To Samantha’s horror, one of them was Warren Bligh.
That creature, now part of a group of well over sixty chameleons, surrounded the survivors of the Little Charlie. Warren flashed Samantha a cold smile.
“No hard feelings, honey,” the thing that looked like Warren said.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Samantha, Becky, Jennie, and Doctor Evans huddled around General Spradlin. Doctor Evans was the only one not paying attention to the overwhelming number of chameleons surrounding the group. He tightened a tourniquet around Spradlin’s wound that considerably slowed the bleeding. From one of the chopper’s first aid kits he pulled out and applied a thick layer of antibiotic crème around the stump before wrapping it with gauze and bandages. Finally, he reached for a bottle of pills.
“Swallow these,” Evans told the General. “They’ll ease your pain.”
General Spradlin forced his mouth open and Doctor Evans threw several pills in.
All the while, Frank Masters stood before the group. He pulled the blade from his chest and dropped it and General Spradlin’s severed hand on the ground. The other chameleons and robots kept a few steps back but had the survivors of the Little Charlie completely surrounded.
“That’s some work,” Frank Masters said when Doctor Evans was done fixing General Spradlin’s injury. “You do know more about medicine than you let on. The care you gave me was clearly inferior.” Frank Masters shook his head. “Either way, you’re wasting what little time you have left. It won’t matter whether General Spradlin bleeds to death or is ripped apart. He —and every one of you— will be just as dead.”
Doctor Evans didn’t reply.
Frank shook his head. The other chameleons made an impressive platoon. They carried no weapons but had obviously seen intense battle. Each and every one of them was baptized in the blood of the military base’s personnel.
Doctor Evans lifted General Spradlin into a sitting position.
“You...you played us all along,” Spradlin gasped. His body shook. “How did you know about Oscuro?”
A cold smile appeared on Frank’s face. He let out a very human laugh.
“We have people in high places, General,” Frank replied.
“Who?”
Frank motioned to his companions. They moved closer to the group.
“No more threats?” Frank said. “It worked so well the last time.”
“Tell me, you bastard!” General Spradlin yelled. He winced and cold sweat ran down his forehead.
Frank stopped. As he did, so too did the rest of the chameleons.
“For you, the war ends here, General,” Frank said. “Your suffering will not last much longer. In many ways, you and your group are among the privileged.”
“Maybe they are,” Spradlin hissed. “I fought you...your scouts, well.”
“That you did.”
General Spradlin clenched his teeth and gasped for air.
“Tell me,” he muttered. “Even if it’s the last thing I'll ever know. Who told you about Oscuro?”
The creature that was Frank Masters paused a moment. Whatever internal programming it possessed, designed so clearly to emulate human actions, reactions, and emotions, considered Spradlin’s final request. General Spradlin knew there was nothing to stop the creature for finishing the group off.
“Please,” Spradlin implored.
The creature tilted its head. Its mouth opened, and it whispered:
“The vice-president.”
General Spradlin’s pale face turned even paler.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “It can’t be...he’s frail, he’s got a pace-maker. He’s under the care of a special White House Doctor—”
Spradlin’s eyes opened wide.
“Oh no,” he muttered.
The cold smile returned to Frank Masters’ face.
“Of course,” Frank said. “He too is one of us. We adapt, General Spradlin. Human beings aren’t so different from us. They’re also machines, only they’re built entirely of organic parts. In recent years we have cultivated organs, cloned and grown them, not unlike vegetables in a garden. Once grown, we’ve clothed our nano-robots in suits of flesh and incorporated these very real organs. One day we hope this clothing is complete enough to fool even the most thorough of medical examinations.”
The look of shock remained on General Spradlin’s face. He had nothing to say.
“How about that?” Frank Masters continued. “The man one heartbeat away from the presidency is one of ours. It must make you feel like hell that you’ve failed so miserably in your one, and only, job. We knew all your moves from the very beginning.”
“You can’t get off the island.”
The skin on Frank’s face began to bubble. Its shape changed, becoming leaner and longer. Brown hair became grayer. Brown eyes turned blue. Wrinkles disappeared
“We’ll get out of here,” the creature said. The voice was no longer that of Frank Masters. It was General Spradlin’s. His features, too, were changing to that of General Spradlin. “Once I tell them we’re ready to go.”
“Of course,” General Spradlin said.
Frank’s face remained in flux, though it wouldn’t be long before it was an exact duplicate of the General’s own.
“Some group you've got,” General Spradlin continued. “I expected more.”
“More?” Frank inquired. “When we discovered this is where you held our three scouts, we made a concerted effort to infiltrate this island on all levels. We brought every scout we could spare to this place, to make sure when the moment came, we would free our companions.”
“Every scout?” General Spradlin said. “All except for the vice-president and his physician?”
The smile on Frank’s altered face disappeared. His eyes locked in on General Spradlin’s. Somewhere deep within the creature’s programming, a realization was made. Moments before, the creature that was Frank Masters offered General Spradlin the identity of their most well-placed mole. Now, it had offered a second bit of information of equal and perhaps greater importance.
“What are you hiding from me?” the creature said.
“This group you have here,” General Spradlin said. “They represent the bulk of your scouts on Earth, don’t they?”
As he spoke, Doctor Evans got up and took a step forward. He stood between the General and his group and the dark figures surrounding them. Frank Masters took a step back.
“What do you have—”
Spradlin abruptly turned and yelled:
“Hit the floor!”
Becky, Jennie, and Samantha followed Spradlin’s orders without hesitancy. Spradlin fell over them, covering them with his body. The creature that was Frank Masters watched in silence, his mechanical brain attempting to analyze and interpret this illogical movement. His group of chameleons, likewise, stood still.
Every member of the Little Charlie huddled together.
All but Doctor Evans.
He faced Frank Masters and locked eyes with the homicidal creature. Then, the Doctor raised his arms until he looked like a preacher about to deliver a sermon. His head arched back. Then it arched back even more. Farther and farther. No human being could bend his head that far back without breaking his spine.
Finally, but too late, the program
ming within Frank Masters realized what was happening. The creature closed its eyes. An almost human look of fear momentarily crossed the thing's face.
“Very clever—” it whispered.
And then everything went white.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The survivors of the Little Charlie felt the heat and crackle of an enormous electrical discharge. For a moment, it was like they were in the center of a furious thunderstorm. The hairs on their bodies stood up, the heat around them was scorching. Despite the booming crackle of electricity, they heard the creatures around them howl. It was as if their internal programming allowed them to experience the agony of a violent death.
Neither Becky Waters nor Samantha Aron could understand what was going on. Becky had a single hope.
If this is their death, then let the journey to hell be a very painful one.
Samantha also wondered about the screams. But her mind was on Frank Masters and Warren Bligh. One was her best friend, the other her lover. She had never really known the human beings they originally were. Her stomach twisted and turned. Even as the chameleons died around her, she wanted to confront the bastards and take them on. Even if she were fried in the electrical current like the rest of them, she’d die swinging. For their deception. For their lies.
After only a couple of seconds, the electrical surge was finished. The screams of the chameleons faded, replaced by an eerie silence.
Very, very slowly, the survivors of the Little Charlie moved. Becky Waters opened her eyes and at once jumped back. Standing directly before her and reaching out with his deadly hands were the remains of Frank Masters. In the creature’s very last action, it reached out and attempted grabbing the members of the human group. Huddled together as they were, if Frank Masters succeeded, they too would have been electrocuted.
Becky pushed away the ashen corpse. It collapsed on its side and shattered into thousands of dark little pieces.