Earthweeds

by Rod Little

  The door was locked, so they broke a window to get the door open. They were cockier about making noise, now that they had acquired protection, but Sam didn't want to push their luck. He kept the volume of his voice down.

  “Find one still in the package. We may need the instructions.”

  They located two camera drones, still sealed in the box.

  “A thousand bucks!” Stu whistled. “You kidding me?”

  “The good ones aren't cheap. But they have a lot of features we'll need. Besides, I have good credit here.”

  The second model was smaller and cheaper in quality, but they took it, too, as a back-up. Next they drove up the street to the drugstore for more antibiotics, this time cleaning out the shelves. Finally, they hit the grocery store and loaded up again on canned goods, coffee and bottled drinks. The back of the van was packed full. Stu took a carton of cigarettes and threw it on the front dashboard.

  They ate beef jerky and pork rinds for lunch. These things will last for decades, Sam thought. He popped open a can of soda. The pop and fizz carried across town and echoed back. He couldn't wait to get out of this deserted death town once and for all.

  He walked along the street. The scuff of his sneakers on the pavement sounded singularly loud. It was hot for this time of year, so close to fall, and scarcely any breeze moved the still air. His eyes fixed on the bar that Ken had burst out of just before he was eaten. The porch railing was busted, but there was no other sign of the struggle that had occurred. This ghost town now had real ghosts to deal with, tenants who would not pass on.

  Sam stood for a long moment and bathed in the disgust he felt for this place. Then he heard Stu and his brother talking.

  “Last chance, guys,” Stu said. “Anything else we need? We may not be back here for a long time.”

  “Cement,” Shane said. “What about cement to repair the wall.”

  “Hmm. Don't see anything like that here.”

  “There's a hardware store, take a look.”

  Stu and Shane crossed the street to a combination hardware and auto body store with building supplies. They searched and found two bags of ready-mix concrete. It might not be enough, but it would help get the rebuilding started. They loaded it into the back seat.

  Sam took a few more steps. He held up his soda can and electrified it. It became hot, and the soda boiled inside. It didn't hurt his hand; he didn't even feel it. After a few more seconds, he stopped it and sent the can flying down the street with a bolt of electricity. The hot projectile landed three hundred yards away and bounced to the side of the road, then began to roll. He watched it spin down a sewer grate.

  “Come on, Sammy.” Shane called out.

  With the van packed wall to wall, Sam had to put the concrete bags on the floor under his feet. He sat back and closed his eyes.

  At last, they drove out of St. Marks and started back home. By now it was late in the afternoon, and they had another forty miles to go. Stu tried to go faster, but the roads twisted and turned, loaded with potholes and rocks. It was hard to drive above 40 mph, especially with the van fully loaded. They took the journey in silence, watching the landscape pass.

  Suddenly Shane clapped his hands together and broke the lull: “Devil Girl from Mars!”

  “Beg your pardon?” Stu asked.

  Shane turned to Sam. “Before, remember, I said Demon Girl. But it's Devil Girl. That's been bugging me all week.”

  Sam tried to get comfortable with his feet propped up on the bags of concrete. “Glad you could get that off your chest.”

  “Hot damn,” Shane shouted, extremely pleased with himself. “I knew I'd remember it.”

  But Sam couldn't get so excited about the simple pleasures anymore. He thought about Bohai's words: They think you're the next savior of the planet.

  Sam did not feel up to that bold challenge. He'd be happy to keep his brother and friends alive, and to keep his own life and sanity. But saving the world was beyond his scope. The notion overwhelmed him.

  I saved another bullet... for you.

  Chapter 24

  Walter stepped away from the window. His team had reported seeing aircraft over the past two days. Their altitude and lack of noise was astonishing. He had worked with the Pentagon before, and knew of only a prototype stealth bomber that could come close to this level of silent flying. He doubted this was it.

  “That's another one,” he said. “Any idea who's flying them?”

  “Dexter maybe?” Dr. Max Witherspoon suggested.

  “The technology is too advanced. I don't think it could be him.”

  “Pentagon then.”

  “No. It's different. It's a new technology. It may be part of the Arctic project. Damn peculiar – it's a bloody mystery to me.”

  Walter had worked briefly on the Arctic project, Project Helium, before being pulled off for reasons unknown. It involved technology being developed under the shroud of secrecy only the Arctic pole could offer. What he had seen there would shock most people. He often suspected more was going on there than even he had been told. That was common with such projects, but this time he suspected its roots were more sinister. No one actually knew who funded it, or who ran it. At one point they claimed to have an alien pilot in detention, but then denied it. Everyone he ever knew who worked on Project Helium eventually just disappeared.

  His wife entered the room. “Come get something to eat, Walt. You were up all night in the lab. Get some food, then sleep.”

  “Yes, dear,” he said. He humored her, and ate the sandwich she provided. But then he would go back to work. No time for sleep, until either he or Dexter were dead.

  The sound of a vehicle could be heard, wheels on the gravel outside. Someone had arrived. Max and Walter rushed out of the house to see the Sergeant and another man pull up in a jeep that carried a cage under a tarp. The Sergeant hopped out and met Walter and Max at the back bumper.

  “It's getting harder to catch them,” the Sergeant said.

  “Been fully tranquilized?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You sure?”

  “Down and out. I assure you. We used the elephant gun.” The military man pulled the tarp off the cage to reveal a gray and brown lizard asleep inside. It was two and a half feet long, small compared to most of the others.

  Walter was pleased. The smaller ones were much easier to handle.

  “Get it into the lab,” he ordered. He turned to Max. “I want blood samples taken right away, and a saliva culture. You know the drill. Same as before.”

  He turned back to the Sergeant. “And get rid of the last one. It's dead.”

  ✽✽✽

  Dexter was furious. Only two men had returned from the raid alive. One of them was Mitch, who now reported in, after being treated in their makeshift hospital for a bullet wound to the leg.

  “You're all idiots,” Dexter hissed. “You had a damn M1 cannon, and you still couldn't take their camp?”

  “It's a fortress, boss,” Mitch tried to explain. “We didn't really know how to use that gun. You said it would be easy. And you wouldn't let us fire any to practice.”

  “We only had three rockets! If I let you inbred fools practice, we'd have none. How hard can it be to point and shoot?”

  Harder than you'd think, Mitch thought, but stayed silent.

  “And you lost one of the trucks!”

  “They had help, boss. Someone was behind us, in the woods. Les said it was the cop. He said he saw him.”

  “What cop?”

  “A State Trooper, Stuart Reese. He's always busting our chops up here. Arrested Les twice! Once he confiscated two automatic rifles. Said they was illegal. Damn nuisance cop.”

  Dexter pressed down on Mitch's wounded leg, and the man winced in pain. His leg and side were on fire.

  Dexter leaned in close. “Get me the boy, the one who is different.”

  “I promise, we'll get him. Let me take a crew out now. They got no gate no more. We did take that down. We d
id that, boss.”

  Dexter backed away and walked across the room to his desk, shoved a stack of books onto the floor. His rage was blinding; he worried he might turn and kill the other man at any moment. Instead he picked up a letter opener and stabbed it into a stack of papers. He struggled to regain control of his emotions.

  “No. We move on, and get back to them later. I want you to get me the rest of the chemicals and reactive agents I need. Get everything on that list. Take the men on an overnight trip.”

  “Sure boss.”

  “I need to focus on the real project. I'll get back to that peculiar boy, later.”

  He speculated he knew why Sam was different. Dexter knew more than he was letting on. “Those other kids will get their day of reckoning, and Walter too. But first things first. Get the rest of what I require.”

  “You got it,” Mitch said. It hurt to put any weight on his leg. He took a step back, limped toward the door and waited to see if there was anything else. He never knew quite what to say to this strange little man.

  Dexter was thinking: I'm tired, I miss my home. After a brief silent moment, he turned in a rage. “Now! What are you waiting for?”

  Mitch hobbled quickly through the doorway and out of the room, trying not to bear down on his right leg. The men in the compound needed Dexter right now for many reasons, as he knew how to generate power and keep the place running. But Mitch knew that someday they would need to kill the mad genius. He also knew he was going to enjoy doing it.

  Chapter 25

  Bohai awoke from his long sleep and managed to sit up. His head rang as if it had spent the night inside of a drum at John Bonham's last Zeppelin concert. His mouth felt dry. It took several swipes of his tongue to reassure himself he didn't have a mouth full of cotton.

  Tina sat next to him and smiled down with that motherly expression she often wore. She brought him a glass of water, and he thought it tasted like cool heaven soaking every inch of his throat. She fed him some oatmeal and made him take his antibiotics. After he ate, she cleaned up his wound a little better and changed the dressing. As Tina left to sterilize her tools, Mark came in to check on the patient.

  “That was pretty gross,” he remarked. “I saw it, when she did surgery on you.”

  “I can imagine,” Bohai said.

  Mark poured him another glass of water, looking comically like a miniature adult taking things in hand. On his belt, the kid wore a pistol that looked heavy and incongruous.

  “Does your lion cat have a name?” he asked. His small high-pitched voice didn't match the years in his eyes.

  Bohai relished the second glass of water in heavy gulps before answering. “He does. But we can't really pronounce it. I like to call him Zeus, for the mythical god of thunder.”

  “Cool.”

  “Speaking of which, where is he now?”

  “I saw him dragging the dead bodies outside somewhere,” Mark said.

  “No kidding?”

  “I'm glad. I didn't want to do it. You know, my mom and Camila are still washing brains off the front steps.”

  “Eww. That can't be fun. At least this got me out of that chore, right? There's a silver lining.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “I'm worried Zeus will scare the others, and they might hurt him. Can you send him in here, if you see him?”

  “You want me to send your big lion in here? Are you crazy? I'm scared to go near it.”

  “He's actually a cougar. Don't worry, he won't hurt you.”

  “Can I touch him?”

  “Maybe,” said Bohai, wondering if Zeus would misunderstand the gesture. “Or maybe just send him in to me first.”

  “I guess. If you say so.”

  Bohai's headache softened, but remained a tiny prick of pain at the base of his neck. He drank more water and leaned back. “Where are the others?”

  “Supply run.”

  “Already? Why so fast?”

  “Get more guns, I think.”

  “Is anyone else hurt?” He hesitated to ask the young kid his next question. “Did anyone get killed?”

  “Yes and No.” Mark answered simply.

  Bohai grabbed the kid by the arm. “What does that mean?”

  “Some of those bad men got killed. A couple of our guys got hurt, but none of us got killed. We thought you might. Be killed, that is. But you didn't. I'm glad you didn't get killed. It's good you're alive.”

  Bohai was relieved. “Thanks, kid. Who got hurt? How bad?”

  “Sam was punched out in the face, and Jason got shot,” Mark explained. As an afterthought, he added, “...but they're okay now.”

  Tina came back into the room. She looked tired and overburdened. Her new hospital duties were weighing heavy on her.

  “No more questions; you should rest. Sleep some more. And you,” she pointed to Mark, “Go outside. Lily and your mom need help fixing the garden. There's a lot of rubble that needs clearing. But first take a water bottle up to Jason in the tower.”

  Bohai started to protest his confinement to the bed, but the pills and the headache were making him sleepy. He settled back and looked up at the ceiling. Only now did he notice the chandelier above his head. It was wildly ornate and beautiful. He stared at it until he drifted off to sleep.

  The van arrived back at the lodge moments before dinner time. They put the wrecked truck in neutral and rolled it aside, so they could drive the van back into the courtyard. Everyone helped to unload the supplies, and Camila offered to cook dinner. She was excited to have a few new choices from the fresh supply of canned goods.

  While dinner was being cooked, Sam tinkered with one of the drones. The task of flying it would be a lot more complicated than he'd first thought. The first obstacle was getting it turned on. Its batteries would need to be charged, and that might take all night with their slim solar power supply. If he used his powers, he might fry the circuits. Powering complex machinery with his abilities never turned out well. Best to wait for the solar panels.

  “Here's to the sun,” Stu said, raising a beer to the sky. Ironically, the sun was now going down.

  Most of the lights were kept off to conserve power. Two lights were always kept on in the lobby, for emergencies. When dinner was ready, they ate with a single lamp at each end of the long table. Despite the dark corners and deep shadows they cast, the dim light gave the lobby cafe a warm glow.

  Everyone sat at the main table for tonight's dinner, except Tina who took her first turn in the watchtower. She couldn't shoot a gun, but she could shout if anyone came up the road. Since she was the house doctor, she didn't need to do guard duty, but she said she wanted the time alone. She would stand guard an hour until after dinner. The death of Ken had not finished torturing her. It would wrestle with her a few more rounds.

  Even Bohai made it to the table, and snowball sat on Lily's lap. Only Zeus was not present, still missing since late afternoon. Bohai hoped the cat was still out tending to the dead, and not hurt in some way.

  They feasted on canned tuna made into grilled tuna patties. They treated themselves to lemon tea made from powder stirred into stream water. As always, apple slices served as dessert. Sam thought he never before had enjoyed one great meal with friends around a single table. It felt nice. Stu was grateful, too. He had spent most of the last ten years eating fast food, and eating alone.

  “We need to start fishing,” Shane announced. “Get some real fish on these plates. That stream out back is full of trout.”

  “I'd like to fish,” Stu said. “Haven't gone fishin' in years.”

  “You know chickens are birds,” Camila reminded them. “So there should still be some around, since the birds were not affected by the mutation.”

  “True that,” Sam said. “We could use them for fresh eggs. If we can find any hens.”

  “I'm on it,” Jason said. He pushed his long hair back. “We can check out some farms later on in the week.” They wouldn't get the chance, but it was a nice idea.

/>   “First we should fly the drone over Dexter's place,” Sam said. “And see what he's up to. Tomorrow we should do it.”

  “Can we do that from here?” Jason asked.

  “I wish, but no.... not exactly. We may have to get closer. The range is only five miles.”

  “How can we see what it sees?”

  “It will broadcast to my phone. I know there's no actual phone reception anymore, but it can still communicate with the drone. I'll tether them to each other. We should be able to see whatever it sees.”

  “And if it gets shot down?” Shane asked. “I mean, that is a possibility. Dexter isn't stupid, he'll have guards all over. Can't they just look up?”

  “Yeah, I haven't worked that out yet,” Sam admitted.

  “Fly it at night,” Stu suggested.

  “Hard to see. Video needs bright light,” Sam explained, biting his lip. “But maybe we could fly over fast. Get some video of what they're up to, and fly it back quickly. In and out.”

  “Maybe we don't need to fly it over the compound.” Jason spoke as if he were thinking out loud. “We just need to see if they're gettin' all ready for a bigger attack. Can we see enough from a distance like?”

  “Not sure. We can try. We need to see if he has any other big weapons inside that compound of his. Any more rocket launchers.”

  Lucy came back from the kitchen with another glass of tea. Likely it was spiked. “Try is good. Can always try.” She was getting drunk. The others exchanged looks, but didn't say anything. Tina made a mental note to hide the booze later.

  “You should sing for us,” Jason said. “You were in some pop group, right?”

  “Yeah!” Lily clapped her hands. “Sing, mommy.”

  “I was the best singer,” Lucy announced. “In the hottest band. Oh yeah, and I had the best roadies, let me tell you.” She winked.

  Mark got up and left the room. He'd heard all this before. Sam decided to go, too. He didn't need any more drama today.

  After dinner, Jason began playing around with an acoustic guitar he had found in the recreation room. He started strumming one of the Honeybee's songs, and Lucy began singing along. Her voice surprised him, and he skipped a note, but then got back on track. She sang the words perfectly on key: