“Moni, that’s a totally bogus idea. We discovered what’s controlling the lagoon. They are these little creatures—part robot and part microorganism. They built this huge colony in the lagoon with their victims’ heads on it. That’s what Mariella has inside her. I’m sorry Moni, but she’s not human. Not anymore. You’ve gotta let her go and come with me.” He waited for her gasps of shock or outraged denials. It got so quiet that he checked the phone to make sure it hadn’t dropped the call. “Professor Swartzman died today for this information. They killed him! You gotta believe me.”
“I do,” Moni said way too calmly for having just learned that the child she loved wasn’t human. She must have already figured it out, but it hadn’t changed her feelings for Mariella. What is the destruction of bridges and the murder of hundreds in the face of love? “There are pieces of this story you wouldn’t understand. Mariella and her kind aren’t evil. They’re just lost.”
“Her kind? What kind are they?”
“They’re the ambassadors from an alien species that went extinct on their home world. The lagoon is being prepared for their rebirth. That’s all they want.”
“Uh, okay then.”
Aaron first considered shipping Moni off to the nearest mental hospital. Then he thought about everything he had seen. The technology, from the miniature cyborgs seizing control of animals to the gene splicing that created the mutants, was way beyond anything on earth. The environment in the lagoon wouldn’t support any native life besides the thiobacillus. Perhaps on another planet, organisms like these formed the base of the evolutionary tree that sprouted all other life, including the intelligent beings that planned on rising from extinction.
That’s why they wanted the Indian River Lagoon, Aaron realized. The expansive body of water had been converted into a massive tank for some extremely exotic fish. Aaron had the feeling these guys wouldn’t consider themselves mankind’s pets. By the way they were treating Moni, they viewed the situation as the reverse.
“I’m on the beachside. Where are you?” Aaron asked. “I’ll meet you as soon as I can.”
“I’m here too.” Moni didn’t sound the least bit worried about being trapped on the narrow strip of land with hostile aliens cutting her off from the rest of the country. “You should leave here, Aaron. Mariella will be fine. I’m taking care of her.”
“What about you, Moni? Who do you think killed her teacher? I found her head at the bottom of the lagoon. That’s what this poser does to people who supposedly care about her.”
“Stop lying to me! Mariella may not be human, but she’s still a child. The only hope she has of growing up with her family is in this new home. Even if a few people get hurt, doesn’t she deserve that right?”
“Who’s talking now? Is it Moni or the alien Mariella?”
“Aaron! You know the girl can’t…”
“You don’t sound like the woman I met who loves helping kids, and I mean real kids. Mariella and those aliens are in your head. She’s influencing you, Moni. If you don’t leave her, she’ll take your head too.”
“Mariella loves me. Those people were cruel to her.”
“What about Mariella’s parents? Do you think they were cruel before the aliens possessed their daughter and murdered them?”
“You don’t know how it happened. You weren’t there.”
“Mariella was. Why don’t you finally ask her? There are no secrets between you two now, right?”
“Stay away from me, Aaron. You stay away from us.”
“I can’t do that. If you don’t leave her, she’ll take you into the lagoon with them. I’ve seen what that acid does to people. They plug heads into their colony like light bulbs. Is that what you want?”
He waited for an answer and got only silence. He thought he had made her stop and think until he finally checked the phone line. She had hung up.
Aaron’s father threw him a sideways glance. Once again, his son had met his expectations by pissing somebody off.
“Aliens huh?” His father rested a condescending hand on his knee. “Son, I know a real good rehab center in West Palm Beach that could get you off that junk.”
“I’m totally straight, dad.” Aaron jerked his leg away.
“Uh huh. You sure you don’t want me to lend you my Terminator to kill those aliens?”
“Cut it out. I’m fine. Let me make one more call.”
Determined to make Swartzman’s final mission count for something, Aaron dialed the sheriff’s office and got connected to Detective Sneed. “Where’s the scientist?” asked Sneed, who didn’t deem the student worthy of that job title.
Following a heavy sigh, Aaron paused until he could shake the image of the raw muscle on Swartzman’s face from his mind. “My professor didn’t make it today. His last act was sending you those photos. Did you get them?”
“Holy shit, yeah. What are they?”
Aaron explained everything, even what Moni had told him about the aliens. It shocked him how readily the detective accepted every word. When a giant, impenetrable bubble covers the lagoon, all skepticism must fly out the window.
“A fine job you did, kid,” Sneed said. Aaron felt guilty hearing the slightest praise. “We’re evacuating the beachside. Helicopters are on the way to Patrick and Hoover Junior High. You better…”
“I’m not leaving without Moni,” Aaron cut in.
“Is that so, eh? I’m not fix’n to leave without Moni, and her little friend, either. I’m set to drop in on her with a SWAT team. Meet me at Hoover and you can tag along.”
Aaron agreed. Just as his father pulled the Mercedes into his driveway, he told him about the change of plans. His dad ignored him, shut off the car and marched toward the front door.
“Dad, come on. My friend is in trouble.”
He strolled inside without glancing back. Aaron futilely yanked on the locked car door. He kicked its tire with his good leg.
A few minutes later, his father came outside and placed down a change of clothes and some tennis shoes. He tossed Aaron a set of car keys.
“Take mom’s wagon. I don’t want you getting a ding on my Mercedes with all these freaks running around. And change your cloths. If you’re trying to impress a girl, you shouldn’t look like you just crawled out of the lagoon—even if that’s what you just did.”
“Thanks da…”
He slammed the door shut.
Chapter 45
The latest plume of black smoke rising from the yellow bubble didn’t come from a destroyed bridge. This bomb had been delivered by an F-16 defending its home base. Brigadier General Colon had never dreamed about ordering an air strike in his backyard—literary, since he lived on base with his wife and son.
The smoke cleared from the satellite image on his computer, and he saw the result. He leapt from his chair and dashed to the window. Less than 100 feet away, the bubble stood firm. Shifting into a deeper shade of yellow, it completely obscured his vision and the radar signatures of the enemy’s workings inside the lagoon.
The detective must be right. Only an alien force could withstand firepower like that.
None of their small arms fire or artillery had so much as scratched the barrier. The invaders hadn’t waged a counter attack, but the presence of the bubble had inflicted severe damage along the base’s waterline. It had swallowed the loading dock and placed a steep obstacle on south side of its longest runway to block air traffic. An enemy force could assemble along the base’s edge and they’d never see it through the bubble until it assaulted them. Colon wouldn’t let them neuter his base, no matter where in the galaxy they came from.
“Sir, the civilians are in position near the runway. We have three birds ready to fly,” a soldier radioed into Colon’s command post. “We’re running out of parking, sir.”
“Those cars won’t be going anywhere for a while,” Colon said. “Put them on the golf course. I don’t think many people will be teeing off under the circumstances. Commence the evacuation now. The si
ck and children go first.”
The next call came from someone a little higher up the chain of command: Secretary of Defense Arnold Stronge. Colon had seen him in formal processions, and the occasional morale-boosting visit to base, but he hadn’t dealt directly with him while the heat of battle weighed on his neck. Even the theft of the explosives hadn’t brought his full attention down on him, although it would have if the media had caught on and made it national news. But no one could sweep a 70-mile long extraterrestrial outpost under the rug.
“I’ve seen lots of conflicting reports about what’s going on down there, brigadier general. Perhaps you can clear a few things up for me,” Stronge said. “Is this some advanced terrorist organization? A domestic scientist with funding from a hostile foreign government? I’ve heard other rumors, but frankly, they’re not worthy of discussion.”
Up in Washington, talk of an alien invasion still elicited snickers. It seemed a lot more plausible to someone who had watched eight entire causeways dissolve in the lagoon like antacids.
“Mr. Secretary, I’m absolutely certain that this invading force is neither foreign nor domestic. It’s not of this earth, sir. The nanobiotechnology I described in my report is beyond our capabilities. And this barrier that’s infringed on my base is as well. It withstood an airstrike.”
“So you really did write that? I have a team analyzing your report right now,” Stronge said. Colon couldn’t blame him for his skepticism. “In the meantime, it’s clear this is a hostile force. Did you hit it with the hardest ordinance you’ve got?”
“Negative, sir. We have a MOAB, but it’s too dangerous to use this close to civilians,” said Colon, referring to a massive ordinance nicknamed the Mother of All Bombs.
“Fine. Save it for when the evacuation is complete.” The secretary paused and started grumbling to himself about “motherfucking mars men.” Then he took a long chug of what Colon could only guess was hard liquor and continued. “These so-called aliens haven’t attempted to communicate have they?”
“Not that we can tell, sir. They might have possessed a child. The police are attempting to locate her, but she doesn’t speak.”
“A lot of good that’ll do then. Let’s give them a message: ‘I don’t care whether you’re aliens from another country or another planet. You can’t plop down on American soil and take whatever the hell you want.’ Nail them with bunker busters until that thing cracks. Deploy your forces along the lagoon and pulverize anything that comes out.”
The secretary opted for the old beehive approach—whack it until the angry bees swarm at you and then blast them with pesticide. Colon figured that the beings who built those mini cyborgs and the seemingly impenetrable barrier were smarter than insects, but challenging an order from Stronge would accomplish nothing besides wasting valuable time.
After Colon agreed, Stronge promised him that backup to secure the base would arrive within hours. He disconnected the line, leaving Colon and his men alone against an alien force. His men had been trained well. They had prepared for battle against military, guerilla and terrorist forces in virtually all terrains on earth. But they hadn’t encountered anything like this.
“I wish I had the luxury of waiting on the arrival of a few thousand more troops,” Colon said to himself. He gazed out his window at the solid yellow bubble. “Lord knows what they have waiting for us inside there.”
* * * *
The pellets smashed through a bullet proof window that Colon had counted on as a shield. He took cover under his desk. The shards of glass fanned out through the control room, and strange projectiles bounced around like ping pong balls. He hadn’t seen what shot them. Colon had only heard his men on the front lines say, “What the fuck is that? Fire!”
The bunker busters had been as ineffective as the other air strike, but they drew the bees out of the hive just as the secretary wanted. Stronge had assumed the soldiers would shoot the possessed animals to bits. Colon heard plenty of shooting outside his window. More of it sounded like the “thrap” of giant blowguns than gunfire.
Colon scampered underneath the window, and poked his head up for a quick view of the situation. Thrap. Thrap. He ducked back down as a figure crashed through his window, and slammed across Colon’s back on its way down. Shrugging off the throbbing bone bruise on his ribs, he slid across the floor, and drew his revolver on his attacker. He saw the blue eyes, and blood-soaked brown hair of one of his sergeants. The soldier slumped against the wall with his leg bent underneath him at a grotesque angle. Turning his gun on the window, Colon aimed into the gunpowder-laden breeze.
“What’s going on out there, soldier?” Colon asked. “No one’s responding to my calls.”
“There aren’t many of us left, sir.” The soldier grunted as he twisted his deadweight leg into what would have been a normal position, if his knee and calf hadn’t been carved in half. “They hit us hard, and fast. Get the civilians out of here. Please, my children…”
Colon grabbed a pack of bandages to wrap the soldier’s wound. By the time he returned, the man had gone cold, and his pulse had stilled. He couldn’t have bled out that quickly. The marks on his head were scraps from the glass. Colon put gloves on, and scoured his wounded leg for the bullet. He pulled out a grape-sized wad of smooth, solid bone. It dripped a syrupy purple liquid—the color of the infected tumors.
“Biological warfare,” Colon said, as he tossed the alien projectile out the window. He removed his purple-stained gloves. Even with a battle raging around him, he hit the bathroom, and washed his hands. When he convinced himself that he didn’t have alien cyborgs swimming in his bloodstream, he got on his radio.
“This is your commanding officer. Everyone fall back to the airfield. Protect the civilians at all costs.”
Secretary Stronge probably would have demanded that he defend the air base first, but Colon didn’t have time to call him and check. He couldn’t bear the responsibility for more civilian deaths, especially after he had invited the people on base, and then picked a fight with their hostile neighbors. He should have told the secretary that his plan would end in disaster. Colon knew he could have done so many things differently. Those were his bombs that had blown up those bridges, and he’d done nothing besides make pointed phone calls, and place a few lackadaisical watchmen on leave while an invading force massed outside his window for weeks.
He couldn’t hold anything back now. If he did, no human would leave his base with a head on their shoulders.
Colon dashed across the parking lot towards a jeep. Jerking his head over his shoulder, he saw who had been firing on the command center. From a distance, it seemed almost human, but the only truly human parts it had were its legs and waist. The mutant had an oversized snake’s head stuffed into a black turtle shell larger than a human torso. Its purple eyes gleamed at him like the laser sights on sniper rifles. Those were its only remotely biological parts. It had two jerky mechanical arms, one with a boat propeller and one with a gardening spade on the end. A double-barreled gun protruded from the middle of its shell. It must use its own infected bones for ammo, Colon thought. He never imagined that microscopic machines could manufacture something out of woodland creatures, and spare parts capable of overpowering America’s finest.
“Run, sir!” shouted a soldier from behind a tree on the edge of the parking lot. Despite the man’s lower rank, Colon followed his advice and scampered for the jeep. He saw the soldier pump out several rounds that bounced off the mutant’s shell. The creature returned fire with a bone fragment that ripped through the tree as if it were an armor-piercing bullet. Luckily, it missed the soldier, who felled the mutant with a clear shot to its snake head.
“Come on in,” Colon shouted to the solder as the brigadier general hopped into the jeep.
When he didn’t hear a response, he looked to where the man had been standing. Colon gawked at the sight of a beast that had been spliced together from a horse and a gator. Snarling at him, it clenched the writhing torso of th
e soldier in its massive jaws. Blood spurted from the holes its teeth tore into his flesh and cascaded down the creature’s neck.
Colon floored it. He ignored the road and rumbled over the grass towards the airfield. Two projectiles punctured the rear door of the jeep. He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw two of the shelled mutants speed-walking after him with their knees locked so they didn’t tip over. Over near the lagoon, he spotted four more marching through the bomb-proof barrier as if it were nothing but a curtain.
When Colon reached the airfield, he found a couple hundred soldiers waiting for him—a fraction of Patrick’s original strength. They formed a shield in front of the civilians, who lay flat on their bellies. That wouldn’t save them if the second line of defense faired as poorly as the first line had, Colon thought. And the formation prevented them from boarding the helicopters. No one would survive unless they made a stand.
His wife and son were in that terrified mass somewhere. There were so many manes of silky black hair and boys with buzz cuts that he couldn’t tell his family apart. He nearly shouted their names, but he bit his tongue before acting so selfishly. Each life on that airfield was the most important thing in the world to somebody. Some of those family members had already lost their loved ones to the horde, and were yet to find out.
A captain saluted Colon when he stepped down from his jeep. Before he could issue a single order, the eyes of every human on base were drawn to the west side of the airfield. The aliens had deployed their army. They reminded Colon of the blocks he gave to his son that had one-third of an animal drawn on each them and could be mixed and matched to form the actual animals or fantasy creatures. In this case, everything had been scrambled. They armored themselves in reptilian scales, fur, metal, and ghastly pale skin. They wielded claws, long teeth, and junkyard scraps converted into shanks. The only feature they all shared was the ravenous purple eyes. Although their heads pointed as straight as sentinels, Colon felt that every single pair of those thousand eyes gazed upon him. They were outnumbered worse than two-to-one against an enemy that had a seemingly endless supply of backup a few hundred feet away.
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