by Rod Little
“If he made it out alive, he'll come back here,” George said. “I've been here alone for a few days. Thought I might be the last human on Earth. You're the first I've seen since I lost Rex.” There was an innocent twang to his voice that was almost a caricature of an army man, the way TV likes to depict them, a cross between Gomer Pyle and Radar O'Reilly. It was comforting in its own way. But unlike those TV characters, George looked big and capable.
“How do you know you can trust us?” Sam asked. To the others, it was an odd question, but Sam wanted to know. He didn't think he himself would jump up to help just anybody – not after meeting Dexter.
“Son, I was a few days from shooting myself in the head, before you came along. I don't want to be the last man on Earth.”
Sam understood. He understood completely. With a wan smile, he nodded and signaled for George to continue.
“So, if you don't mind. I'm tickled pink to see three other human beings on my base. You may have just saved my life.”
“And you can show us how to drive those tanks?” Stu asked.
“Truth be told, it actually is a bit like driving a car,” George smiled. “And I'm happy as a June bug to show you.”
“We'd be taking these into war,” Sam reminded him. “War against the reptiles.”
“I do understand that, son. Sorry I can't fly the Apaches. I'm not a pilot. Those would be real handy, but we got no pilots left. They'll have to stay grounded, least for now.”
“The tanks will help a mighty lot,” Stu said. “We have a fort of our own twenty-five or thirty miles from here. Others in our group are waiting., so we need to get some of these big machines back over there.”
“Well, we can take four, I guess. There's four of us, each driving one.”
“What about the van?” Sam asked.
“We can come back and get it later,” Stu said. “But the path is a bit narrow for these beasts.”
“We go out the other side.” George pointed past the barracks. “There's a dirt road. That leads to a narrow path, but the Stingrays can get through anything.”
George took them to the small barracks and handed out bullet-proof flak jackets. They also took a couple boxes of military rations for the Lodge.
It was George's opinion they should take four of the newer Stingray tanks. Lacking any experience of their own, they deferred to his better judgment; it was his party. Time was short, so they got a quick thirty-minute lesson from George, then hopped in.
Sam squeezed into driver's seat of the tank and leaned back. It was a tight fit. These things were not easy to get in and out of, despite what the movies portrayed. George had taught them that the pedals were gas and brakes, and the second throttle and gears were activated by hand. The square steering wheel moved like any car, or so George assured them. Sam was not so sure. His confidence was paper-thin.
The machine started and its vibrations resonated throughout his slim body. He worked the controls; the tank lurched forward, and Sam struggled with the wheel, fought to control it. Though he nearly crashed into the empty tank next to him, he avoided the collision and managed to straighten the wheel. He pulled out behind Stu's tank, and followed it.
Stu drove in the lead, followed by Sam and Bohai. George wanted to cover the rear, so he could watch the others and help if they got off course or experienced any problems with their vehicles.
As instructed, Stu passed through the open exit and followed the one and only road off the small military base. Sam kept his tank a safe distance behind Stu, in case of a quick stop. They drove slowly at first, crushing shrubs and destroying the path to the main road. Once they gained the paved road, a road that Stu was already familiar with, Stu sped up and cruised at 50 mph. Sam didn't like this, but he aimed to keep up.
I don't care what George says, this definitely isn't like driving a car, he thought.
Nothing blocked their way except for a single abandoned car, which Stu easily pushed aside with his armored vehicle. It dented one corner of the car and nudged it off the road. There were no enemy reptiles along this route yet; this part of the land was still in friendly hands.
Nothing about the drive was comfortable for Sam. The one saving grace was going to be the look on Jason and Shane's faces when four tanks pulled up. Some things in life are still priceless.
The tanks rolled up to the Peak Castle Lodge, and Sam saw Jason in the tower, ready with his rifle drawn. Shane was peering around the side corner at ground level. Sam couldn't get his lid open; he couldn't see any lever to release it. Through the viewer, he saw George approach Shane and ask him to disarm.
The hatch on the first tank slid open, and Stu popped his head out. “Look what we brung ya!”
Shane relaxed and stood back, taking a moment to absorb the impact of what he was seeing, and definitely relieved by it. Everyone lowered their weapons and let out a huge sigh of relief. Mark was in heaven; he walked around each tank, kicking the treads and soaking them in. With difficulty he tried to climb onto one.
George walked back and pounded his fist on Sam's tank. “It's the lever up behind your head.”
Sam found the release lever and yanked it hard. The hatch made an emphatic clunk sound and opened. He was glad to be out of that tin can. It was hot in there, and he was starting to feel claustrophobic, like riding in an armored coffin. A second later, Bohai emerged from his hatch, too, and dismounted with some effort, holding his bandaged sides and wincing from the pain. He and Sam found their footing on the dirt road and ambled forward.
Sam felt dizzy.
Walking on foot is good, Sam thought. This is natural, this is good. He was glad to be rid of the vibrations and loud hum of the tank.
They brought George in through the side door, and introduced him to everyone. Lucy seemed the most interested. She felt his muscular arms, twice, and commented about “needing real men” a few times. This time she wasn't even drunk – just annoying.
Shane, Sam and Mark rode three of the bicycles out to retrieve the van. It was good for Mark to get out and feel useful. The kid was unbelievable in his lack of fear. He just needed something to do.
They reached the van without incident, loaded the bikes in back, and returned to the lodge before sundown.
The group gathered around the main table for dinner, and set about making a plan for the next stage of war. To Sam it seemed almost ludicrous: one cop, one soldier, and a bunch of kids planning for war.
Thank Heaven for Stu and George! Otherwise it would just be us kids.
“So, we've got four tanks,” Stu said, “And can get more. But what exactly do we do with them?”
“Drive them into the heart of the enemy,” Jason said coolly. He smiled at the thought. “Go south and east, and keep shooting.”
Stu raised an eyebrow. “I think we need a better plan than that.”
“Yes sir, Stu is right,” George said. “We need a plan. You can't just drive armored vehicles and shoot right and left. We need to decide on a formation and an objective.”
“Take back Pittsburgh,” said Shane. “And drive the enemy south. Kill as many as we can along the way.”
Bohai shook his head. “We can't route them like a human army. They think like animals. They might not be so easily frightened into retreating like a normal squad of men. They'll keep coming at us, regardless of their casualties. And they have the numbers to outlast us.”
Sam cleared his throat and spoke for the first time, his voice unsteady. “More than three hundred million people in America, all mutated into reptiles. That's a lot of enemies to fight.”
“How many spiders, though?” Jason asked. “There have to be like millions, right? Or billions?”
“Not all of them were affected by the biological agent,” Bohai explained. “Not all got bigger, certainly not three hundred million. More like twenty or thirty million. And a small percentage of them are in our area. We're badly outnumbered. And we don't know anything about the bats yet.”
“Should we coordina
te with General Tarantula, or whatever his name is?” Sam asked. “Not to sound ridiculous, but they're already fighting this war. And they found these tanks for us. Ask him what he wants us to do.”
“I can try. I can go ask them tonight,” Bohai said. “Come with me again, Sam?”
“Sure. I can do that,” Sam agreed, although he'd really rather not.
“General who?” George asked.
“Uh, that's a long story.”
“And it's gonna be a might hard to swallow,” said Stu. “So buckle up.”
They filled him in over dinner, and exchanged information about what both sides knew so far. They also told him about Dexter and his attack on their lodge. Jason and Shane told him what they knew about Walter and the secret lab. Like Stu, George was skeptical about some of it, but the broken world around him was starting to soften his hard head and his strong belief system. He hadn't seen the spiders yet, but he had seen the reptiles. That had shattered his entire outlook on life.
Chapter 29
After dinner, Bohai took Sam on another trek into the deep woods to consult with the arachnid war counsel. Despite the full moon, it was dark inside the forest. The boys carried lamps and stepped carefully over the thick undergrowth at their feet. Where they were headed, no real paths existed.
When they arrived, a half mile into the forest depths, the spiders started to surround them and maneuver them into a clearing. Within the foliage, there was a hissing and a deep guttural growl. It sounded like a lizard.
Indeed the arachnids had a lizard with them, a prisoner they had captured and kept alive for some reason, and now two spiders dragged it to the clearing edge.
“What the hell is going on?” Sam asked.
The captive lizard, tied up tightly in silk web, hissed with rage. Two spiders held onto it and started to sever the web bonds. At the right moment, they thrust it into the clearing, and cut the last of its bindings.
It was loose!
A large tarantula nudged it forward toward Sam. Another set of legs snatched the boys' guns from their holsters, and then the spiders backed away.
Sam and Bohai were unarmed, facing a huge lizard.
“What's happening?” Sam repeated.
“I don't know. I think they want you to kill it.”
“They took our guns.”
“You have other weapons, Sam. You know what I mean. You have to spark!”
They wanted Sam to use his powers. Was this a test, or something else? It wasn't clear, but what was clear was the set of fangs approaching them fast.
At first, the lizard was as confused as the boys, but it only took a few seconds for its instincts to kick in. The reptile lunged at the two humans, and Bohai fell backward on the ground. In the same instant, it swung its tail around and knocked Sam off his feet. Now it rush forward for the kill; its jaws opened wide. It leaped into the air and came down on top of Bohai.
Sam created an arc of blue electricity and sent the creature rolling off Bohai before its teeth could find the boy's neck. Sam raised himself up to his hands and knees and then regained his feet. He stood with his hands close together and generated a sphere of static power. He hurled it at the creature like a baseball.
The creature swung around as if to bat the sphere with its tail, and the ball exploded on impact. The creature's tail blew off. That didn't stop it. With blood dripping behind, the reptile spun around and headed for Bohai again. Sam produced another charged ball and threw it fast. The creature opened its jaws to swallow the blue projectile, and it landed spot on, directly in its mouth. Sparks bloomed, and the ball blew the creature's head clean off. Its lifeless body collapsed to the ground and spilled blood and guts onto the grass at their feet.
Breathless, struggling for air, Sam went down on one knee and rested a moment before reaching out to Bohai and helping him to his feet.
“What the hell was that!” he cried. He hated being forced to fight, and even more, he hated being forced to power-up.
Bohai stood up straight and backed away from the charred guts near his shoes. “That was pretty awesome, that's what that was! Amazing! I didn't know you could do that. Throw bombs like that.”
“What?” Sam was still off balance, both mentally and physically. He had gleaned no pleasure or satisfaction from the ordeal.
“Impressive, man.” Bohai slapped Sam on the back.
“That was terrifying.”
“They want you to stop being afraid,” Bohai said. “They need you to come out and fight with them. Like this. Not with arrows or guns, but with your gift, your powers. Your spark!”
“So they throw this beast at us?”
“They need you to stop hiding it.”
“Screw them!”
Sam was angry, but he knew they were right. He knew he could do more for the cause if he stopped hiding his special abilities. This wasn't high school anymore. He knew it even before Bohai said it.
Bohai laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. “School's out, man. It's time to grow up, and wise up.”
“I'm only one person. I can't fight a million of these lizard things.”
“They say you're only using 10% of your power. Is that true?”
Sam's breathing slowed and his heart stopped thundering, at least a little bit. He willfully began the process of calming down, coming down.
“I don't know. Just let me rest a minute.”
He sometimes had trouble coming down from the high of powering-up. It was like a drug that sent adrenaline coursing through him, and then left him with a strange feeling when he was done. Sometimes he crashed. Maybe that's why he didn't use his power often: he felt guilty. It felt too good to use it, and remarkably bad when it was over.
Is this what junkies feel like? He wondered.
Bohai consulted more with the spiders, then the eight-legged creatures scattered. While the smaller two-foot spiders moved soundlessly, the tarantulas could be heard crunching through the foliage, like elephants.
“Let's go,” he said. “You alright, Sam?”
“You know this isn't how I planned my life. I had a plan, and it didn't include... this.”
“Life doesn't care about your plan, Sam. It doesn't care about your blueprint for four years of college and a wife with two and a half kids. All that is gone. Life just rolls on, with or without. Are you getting on board, or getting run over? It's up to you, man.”
Sam looked down at the headless reptile body. Images of Ken filled his head, and at that moment he had no regrets. He would kill a thousand more of these things, and have no regrets. They weren't people, they were devils, abominations to be cleaned away.
“I'm with you,” Sam said. He was agitated, but he wasn't angry anymore. “Whatever I can do.”
The two boys walked back to the lodge in silence, but Bohai's words stayed with Sam all night.
School's out.
Chapter 30
Inside the lab, Walter and Max faced the cage and examined the subject inside. Max held the dart gun up to the bars and pulled the trigger. The dart pierced deep into the animal's scaly skin, causing the creature to scream and flail against the bars. Entering its system through the carotid artery, the serum began to course through its veins, immediately affecting its vital organs. Frustrated and enraged, the animal snapped at the two men on the other side of the bars.
They watched to see its reaction to the serum. They were hoping it would undergo a major change. Reversing the mutation had proved impossible, so their new goal was to alter the mutation to make the creatures more docile. Since they couldn't change the deadly creatures themselves, their best hope was to remove the mutant's sense of rage, the instinct to attack.
Two previous subjects had failed. The serum had no effect on the first, and merely a minor effect on the second. Both subjects were later killed, and autopsies were performed. The experiences had earned the team very little insight or progress, and brought only scant new knowledge to the scientific effort. The mutation was far beyond their scope. And
with more hordes clustering outside every day, time was running out.
Over the next hour, they studied the mutated reptile. It snarled and bit at the air every few minutes, then slammed its body against the bars again and again in a desperate attempt to attack the two scientists. Gradually its movements slowed, and its temper faded to a sleepy growl. The eyes glazed over. It lay down on the floor like a docile dog.
Max stuck a prod in the cage and tapped the lizard. It lifted its head, but didn't snap at the prod. Cautiously, the man reached in and touched its tail. When there was no reaction, he moved to the front and patted it on the head. The creature flicked its tongue, but did not try to bite the hand.
“A successful degree of change,” Max said, and wrote notes on a clipboard. “This one looks promising.”
“Monitor the subject overnight. We need to see if the effect remains, or if it is merely short-term.”
“Exactly. I will check its reactions and its pulse every sixty minutes.”
Walter felt good about this phase of the experiment. However, he was still bothered by the source of the original mutation. It wasn't from Earth, of that he was sure. It was a biological weapon from outside their world. So, where did it come from? And where are those who sent it here? The sophistication of the weapon impressed the entire research ream. But he wondered: who would want to do this to our world?
Who and why?
“I'm going to sleep. Wake me if anything happens.”
In the morning, Walter was summoned to the lab. The reptile lay motionless on the floor of the cage. It was dead.
Max looked up when Walter came in. “We can try a smaller dose.”
“What time did it die?”
“Four hours and twenty minutes after administration.”
“I want an autopsy.” Walter ordered. “Then get another creature. We'll try it again at half the dose.”