by Gregory Kay
CHAPTER 31
The wounded creature squeaked and squealed, with a sound somewhere between that of a giant mouse and a pig being slaughtered. From their shelter under a rock overhang on a hillside, Fiona had shot it at point-blank range, so close she could smell the acrid burning when the powder singed the downy feathers of its breast. A minute later, it was surrounded by still more winged forms of its own kind, who happily devoured it alive as it writhed in agony.
Center of mass, Luke said; center of mass. And it worked, even on them...
At the thought of Luke, she felt like crying.
Alison hadn’t stopped crying; although they’d managed to stop the bleeding by binding it with Fiona’s tee shirt, the agonizing pain in her head coupled with the horror of her situation had seen to that. Despite the trauma of what Fiona more than half-suspected was a fractured skull, however, the girl had gone until she was simply not able to go anymore, but was still managing to function at least in a limited way. With the reporter’s help, they had managed to get her legs worked through her cuffed arms so they were now in front of her; she had a jaggedly-pointed stick she had found broken off a dead bush lying at her left side, and a pile of rocks to her right, with another stone in her shaking hands.
Looking out at the glowing red eyes and listening to the noises in the dimness outside, Fiona patted her on the shoulder.
“You doing okay?”
She clearly heard the girl swallow hard before answering.
“No; you?”
“I’ve been better.”
Another gulp, then, “Look, Fiona, why don’t you make a run for it?”
“No.”
“It’s me they want,” she said, calmly and reasonably, “I’m wounded, and they smell the blood! As long as you’re with me...look, it’s better that one of us makes it than both of us die here.”
Fiona scooted over beside her and slipped her arms around her, hugging the larger girl to her with her .38 still ready in her free hand, and she could feel the teenager shaking.
“Make it where? I don’t even know where ‘here’ is. Anyway, I’m not going to abandon you, no matter what happens.”
“But – “
“No buts. I promise. We’re going to get out of this.”
“How?”
Fiona forced a grin that looked like anything but, and said, “Not a clue. Maybe if we can kill enough of them, they’ll get full eating each other, and go away to sleep it off somewhere.”
“How many bullets do you have left?”
“Four.” She’d already checked, and recovered a few more from the lining of her jacket, but she had just reloaded with her last round, and it wasn't even enough to fill the cylinder’s five chambers.
The girl was crying softly.
“Y-you might want to...s-s-save the last t-two, you know?”
“Listen to me! We’re not giving up!” Forcing up a confidence she didn’t feel, she said, “We’re in this together, kiddo, and we’re going to kick their asses before we’re done, kapeesh?”
Alison started to answer, then pointed out from beneath their shelter.
“Look out!” she shouted, “They’re moving!”
Fiona raised the Smith and Wesson at the flurry of motion and agitated squeaking coming from outside.
This is it; they’re making a rush!
She calmly decided what she would do. When the attack came, she would shoot the first three, then, while Alison was looking away and not expecting it, she would do what needed to be done. After that, she’d go out fighting with rocks, sticks, or her teeth if necessary, until they tore her apart. She wouldn’t take the less-painful way out herself, not when she could use that bullet to kill one more of her attackers.
You and the horse you came in on, you ugly flying pukes!
The darkness abruptly disappeared in a strobe-flash of light, and the things fled, squeaking and squealing.
The two looked at each other, wondering what just happened.
“Is it the soldiers?” Alison had the good sense to whisper, and Fiona shrugged slightly.
“I don’t know. Whatever it was, it came from behind us.
“New plan: if it is them, we’ll ambush them when they pass us. I’ll shoot the closest one in the back, then you jump out and grab his rifle while I keep firing to keep their attention on me until you can start shooting. If we can capture a couple of their weapons, we’ll have some real firepower, and we can deal with all the crap in this place a whole lot easier.”
Fiona’s good sense told her that the chances of a lady reporter and a handcuffed, badly-wounded high school girl ambushing a highly-trained squad of special operations troops, killing some, capturing their weapons, and using them to drive off the rest was approximately that of a snowball in Hell, but...
It’s the only one we’ve got, so we’re going for it!
They crouched there beneath the rock in tense silence, straining to hear who or what might be coming.
Fiona Pelligatti and Alison Parks.
Both women looked at each other, mouths wide open. Both of them had clearly heard and recognized the voice sounding inside their heads once more.
I know you are sheltered among the rocks.
“D-did you...” Alison began, and Fiona nodded.
“Yeah, I heard it, but in my head. That can't be the soldiers...can it?” Calling out, she demanded, “Who’s there?”
Please lower your weapon; I mean you no harm. I am here to help you.
“Oh yeah? Prove it!”
I will be happy to, but I would rather not do so by getting shot, which would prove nothing other than that I can die if I sustain sufficient damage. Lower your weapon, please, and I will come out where you can see me.
Fiona asked Alison, “Do we have a choice?” and the younger girl shook her head.
“If we do, I don’t know what it is.”
“Alright; I’m pointing my muzzle toward the ground, and it’ll stay there as long as you don’t make any funny moves!”
A tall figure in a long black trench coat detached itself from the shadows of the brush in front of them, and the voice echoed through their heads again.
May I approach, please?
Fiona didn’t see any other realistic option, but before she could tell him to come on, he began walking forward unhurriedly.
We can communicate telepathically as well as verbally; I find telepathy much easier, for me, at least, if you don’t mind.
“Are you...inside our heads right now?”
Only as far as you allow me to be; that is only proper during normal conversation.
He stopped a comfortable distance away, and Fiona’s eyes widened as she looked him over. It wasn’t the long, futuristic-looking rifle slung over his shoulder or the long coat worn incongruously over what looked like silver work coveralls; it was his features. He was a handsome man, obviously not young but of indeterminate age; only fine lines at the corners of his eyes and gray at his temples told her he must be a good bit older than he appeared at first glance. But the long face, the curve of his jaw, the shape of his nose and cheek bones, his quirky grin, were instantly familiar. She suddenly knew beyond a doubt who he was.
“You’re – “
Yes, I am. My name is Indrid Cold, but we can discuss that later. We must leave now; the creatures are always hungry, and they smell Alison’s blood. They will grow bolder when their sensitive eyes recover from the flash and they see that I am only one, and they will begin approaching again. And, besides them, if either the soldiers or the Ra’aki find us here, we will not survive.
“Ra’aki? Who are the Ra’aki?”
You have seen them in the human forms they choose to wear in order to walk among you; the meat puppets I believe you most commonly refer to as ‘the men in black.’ They are seeking you along with the soldiers. I will explain further once we are safe, but we must go now!
“Do we have a choice?” Alison asked Fiona this time, and the reporter shook her head.
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“I don’t think so.” Turning back to the man, she reached down a hand to help the girl up and said, “Lead on, Mr. Cold.”
Please, call me Indrid. I am a friend.
“Okay...Indrid.”
His only response was that his grin grew bigger, as if he were greatly pleased.
Covering her mouth with her still chained-together palms, Alison whispered, “Did you notice who he looks just like?”
“Yes, and now I know who he is, and why he’s helping.”
You know part of why, Fiona, but not all of it.
He had heard them, of course, but somehow, she knew his response was for her mind only this time, and that Alison couldn’t hear it. She was glad of that when he told her the rest, which made her stumble. She would have fallen if Indrid Cold hadn’t caught her arm.
Be careful, he warned her rather sharply, then moved to Alison and scooped her up in his arms before either of them realized what he was doing.
He must be really fit! Fiona thought, because he held the girl without apparent effort.
We will travel faster this way, and will not aggravate your wounds...His thoughts trailed off as he heard or sensed something in the distance, back the way they had come, she was sure, as his head snapped in that direction. When he looked back at her, Fiona could swear there was fear in his eyes.
Can you run?
“Yes.”
Good. Now would be an excellent time to do so. A Ra’aki meat puppet has just come through the portal.
Indrid didn’t tell her that someone else had come through too, just ahead of the creature, because she would have insisted on going back. He knew he could render her unconscious, of course, but he didn’t think he could carry both women, and, anyway, he needed her to help watch while they moved and, if necessary, engage any of the void-creatures that might attack them while he had his hands full. He’d looked at it from every angle, even tried to put himself in Luke’s position, and he knew this was the right decision, one that Luke would make if given the opportunity.
He couldn’t multi-task; oh, he could walk and mentally talk at the same time, but couldn’t maintain the concentration to broadcast over a distance while moving and watching...
He abruptly stopped, so quickly that Fiona ran into him from behind, bouncing off so hard she nearly fell.
“Hey! What’s wrong?”
There was a brief look of intense concentration on his face, then the grin returned, although she couldn’t escape the feeling it was a mask this time, hiding something.
Nothing. I had to get a message to a friend.
Before she could ask anything else, he took off at a lope, Alison cradled in his arms.
CHAPTER 32
“Is this Hell, Mr. Parks?”
Joe started to tell his daughter’s boyfriend no, that Hell had fire, but, since they had come through the portal, he wasn’t nearly as sure of that as he had been.
“I don’t know; I don’t think so, but I don’t reckon this place misses it by much.” He tried a grin and failed. “God knows it has demons enough. Allie...” he added in a whisper, causing his wife to touch his arm for comfort, both his and her own.
“It’s alright. She’s alive; I know it!”
More like she hopes it, just like I do, Joe thought, although he wasn’t about to say it.
“They’re alive!”
Luke’s enthusiastically shouted exclamation came with so little warning that everyone jumped, and Johnny almost fired his shotgun out into the strange dimness.
“What?” Whitey asked, “How do you know?”
“Remember that voice that warned me Fiona was being attacked? It’s back, and it just told me to come straight ahead; ‘at maximum speed’ it said.
Joe growled, “So we’re being guided by the voices in your head now? How weird is this going to get?”
“I don’t know, honey,” Kathy told him with a shrug, real hope in her eyes, and more than a touch of sarcasm in her tone, “Is it any weirder than fighting Mothman, devil-hogs and chupacabras after going through some kind of a doorway into an alien place that doesn’t exist?”
“Good point. You always were the smart one.”
“We need to hurry! Sam, you’d better take point; Johnny and I are moving to the rear with Whitey.”
“Why the change?” the former Green Beret asked.
“You’ve got the experience to take care of business up there yourself, but the voice told me we’ve got something really bad coming after us, and it’s closing fast.”
“Shit! Did he say what it was?”
Luke nodded.
“Yeah, but I don’t have a clue what a ‘meat puppet’ is, just that it doesn’t sound good!”
“It’s a spaceship,” Fiona declared, surprised at the calmness she felt at the sight, although she supposed nothing could shock her now, after all she’d been through.
The object was made of silvery metal, or at least looked like it in the light of the alien stars reflecting from its surface. Shaped like one of the fat cigars her dad favored, the cylinder was fifty feet long and eight high, but otherwise featureless, other than the metal legs that propped it up along its length.
“This – is yours?” she asked, or rather gasped, being out of breath from the run across the uneven ground. Indrid answered her mentally, while physically wheezing and gasping from doing the same thing while carrying Alison, although, of course, his shortness of breath didn’t show in his telepathic speech.
Converse mentally; not only will it save your breath, but it may prevent one or more of the creatures here from being attracted by the sound.
“Oh; sorry.”
“It is alright; it takes time for those of your world to get used to, in my experience. Yes, that is our ship.”
As if in response, a hatch opened, the door dropping downward to form an access ramp. Another man was standing in it with a weapon identical to Indrid’s in his hands, and he looked like a younger, considerably taller version of their rescuer, and a younger, more slightly-built version of...
What in the hell is going on here?
The sight made Fiona hesitate, but, since their rescuer kept going, showing no sign of being disturbed by it, she followed him. Still, she kept her hand on the revolver in her pocket, just in case.
“Father!” the pair heard him inside their heads, “We are running out of time; I have been monitoring their communications, and the plane is being loaded now.”
“I know. Take her.”
Reaching the hatch, he offered the girl in his arms, and the other man helped shift Alison to his grip, then turned and walked away quickly with her.
“Follow him, please.”
Fiona hesitated.
“He’s...”
“Yes, he is. Now go inside.”
Not knowing what else to do, the reporter obeyed, only to have the door promptly close behind her. It took her a second to realize that the man who called himself Indrid Cold was on the outside.
“Hey!” she exclaimed out loud, momentarily forgetting the telepathic connection, although her thought waves broadcasted just fine anyway. “What are you doing?”
When it came, his thoughts were fainter, and grew fainter still as she listened with her mind, making it obvious he was rapidly moving away.
“I am going after Luke and the others; they have come through the gate looking for you and Alison. They will need me to guide them in order to find the ship in time.”
“Luke’s alive?”
“Yes.”
Fiona would have fallen if she hadn't caught herself against the hull with one hand.
“He’s out there? Let me out! I’ll go with you!”
“No, you will not. Luke would not want it, and you are too valuable for me to risk even if he did. That is why I brought you here first; your safety is the top priority at this time.”
The thoughts grew fainter and faded entirely even as the last words were mentally spoken, and, although Fiona knew Indrid couldn
’t hear her anymore, it didn’t stop her from pounding her fists against the cold metal portal in a rage, even as that last, half-formed image he had placed in her mind spun dizzily. She pushed it away, choosing not to think of it now, in the frenzy of their situation.
“Let me out of here! You son of a bitch, let me out! Let me out!”
“My father is stubborn; demands and verbal abuse have never affected him as far as I know. Besides, he can no longer hear you.”
Spinning at the sudden return of the second voice in her head, she confronted the younger Cold.
“You can hear me, so let me the hell out of here!”
“I am sorry, but I cannot do that. His orders to the contrary aside, Father travels fast when he wishes, and he will be going at maximum speed now; you would never catch up, and one or more of the void-creatures would find you and kill you.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
“I have little doubt that you would; I, however, will not. Father locked you in here in order to prevent you from attempting it, and I will not go against his orders, even if I disagreed with them, which I do not.”
Abruptly producing the revolver from her pocket, Fiona pointed it at his midsection.
“I’ve got some new orders for you, asshole; you open that door right now!”
The only effect the presence of the weapon seemed to have on him was to make him look vaguely amused.
“No. Why should I do that?”
“Because, so help me, I’ll shoot you if you don’t!” She jabbed the revolver at him as if she were going to stab him with the muzzle, but he showed no visible reaction.
“No, you will not. You will not shoot someone who is helping you; that is not who you are, and that is not the sort of woman my brother Luke would have chosen.”
Unhurriedly turning his back on her, he thought back over his shoulder, “You should make yourself comfortable while you can; things may become disconcerting shortly. We have food, water, and elimination facilities this way, and I imagine you wish to see your friend. She is sedated for now, but I think you will feel better once you see for yourself that she is healing.”