by Rod Little
“There's an upside.” Max took his glasses off. “It kills them. We have a way to effectively kill the mutated beings.”
“Yes, but not instantly. It takes time, too much time. Four hours and twenty minutes.”
“Four hours isn't bad. We could wipe out whole swarms in less than a day.”
“The real problem,” Walter said, “is delivery. We can't shoot darts into a million creatures, directly into the neck of each one. We will need a better delivery system.”
“Spray. I want to spray the next subject,” Max put his glasses back on and wrote again on his chart. “Half dose, sprayed over the creature's head from a height of two meters. A fine mist.”
“That is acceptable, but this serum is deadly to humans, too.” Walter rubbed his eyes. “We'll need to be well protected if we spray this out in the open air. And I want to know the effect on plant life. Put some plants in the cage with the next creature. I want a full report of the effect on the creature, the plants, and on us.”
“Exactly,” said Max. “We don't want to start the ecological end of the planet ourselves.”
Walter stared wearily at the cage. “At this point only humanity is at risk. The planet will survive. Let's not make it worse.”
For the next experiment they wore hazmat suits and sprayed a reduced dose of their new concoction into the cage. Two potted plants were added to the cage, three more in the room. The subject lizard snapped at the air and at the cloud being sprayed above its head. It smashed one of the potted plants with its tail. The toxicity levels in the lab rose to dangerous levels within two minutes.
Walter and Max watched intently for any reaction in their subject, or any change to the plants.
The first reaction came within thirty minutes: the plants started to wilt. One of them even turned brown. However, the creature barely reacted. It took an hour for a definitive reaction from the animal: it finally calmed down and looked to be sleepy. A test with the prod brought a halfhearted snap from its fangs. While it wasn't as docile as the last subject, it undoubtedly had lost most of its aggression. The experiment appeared to be a success. However, within two hours, all the plants were dead, and the toxicity levels in the room were still too high for human survival.
Walter and Max left the lab and unsuited.
“Failure,” Max said impatiently. “At that dose, it didn't kill the subject, and its reactions did not even reach the desired level of docility.”
“It would likely kill all humans in the same area.” Walter sighed. “And all the plants. We can't spray this chemical agent out there. Delivery has to be via injection. Impractical.”
“So we have nothing to offer. No way to kill or even disarm them.” Max was tired. He lay on the sofa and closed his eyes.
“Don't give up, my friend. Back to the board.”
✽✽✽
At his own compound, Dexter was having an even worse day. Several of the lizards had slipped past his wall and managed to destroy some of his equipment. The Grinners even lost one of their generators. For now, the spiders were keeping the lizards at bay – a phenomenon he didn't yet understand – but he was grateful for the help. Unfortunately the battle front was moving back in his direction. The lizards were pushing forward hour by hour, and soon his compound would be at the front line again. He estimated less than a day.
“Should we evacuate?” One of his men asked.
“To where?” Dexter snapped. “Scurry into the mountains like rats? No. Not me. Never like that.”
“So what should we do?”
“Shore up the wall for now. Make sure everyone has enough ammunition.”
Mitch came into the room and sent the other man out. “Several of the men are leaving. They don't want to stay here any longer.”
“Cowards,” Dexter hissed.
“There's no point in staying, boss. Seriously... What's the point?”
“I don't need advice from you. I just got my lab set up, and I'm ready. If you hadn't failed to get me the last few components...”
“Pittsburgh is a lost cause, boss. Swarmed. It belongs to the creatures now. There was nothing we could do.” He fidgeted with a cigarette, then put it back in his pocket. “We did the best we could. Really.”
“I want you to take a couple of men and go north to Buffalo. There's a place there where you can get what I need.” Dexter hadn't slept in days. He was growing impatient with these rubes. “Can you handle that?”
“I... I guess so.” Mitch was uncertain if he wanted to go to Buffalo.
Some of the men were heading that way, anyway, but they weren't planning to come back. He figured he could ride with the others, and if the roads were clear, he'd bring back supplies. If not, it would be adios Senior Dexter. This one he'd play by ear.
“You're sure about this weapon you're building, you're sure it'll work?”
“For the last time,” Dexter looked up. “I am sure. Stop asking me stupid questions.”
“Okay, boss. I'll get on it right away.”
Dexter didn't reply, so Mitch left the lab and packed a light bag. He found eight bikers leaving the compound, heading northeast. He got on his Harley and rode out with them, comforted to see the compound get smaller in the rear-view mirror. Soon it would be overrun. If Dexter could get his weapon together, there was hope for all of them. However, if Mitch couldn't get back by tomorrow, then there would be no point in returning. The compound would be a graveyard.
Chapter 31
Bohai shoveled oatmeal in his mouth, and gauged how much information he could tell his friends without freaking them out over breakfast. He had news from his flock of spies.
"Small craft have landed near every city on the continent,” he explained. “Actually they landed weeks ago. I think these are drones, and I think they carried the bio-weapon that caused all of this mess to start with: the creature mutations. One probe is right outside Pittsburgh, and it's still operating. Or at least it appears to be working. They say lights never stop flashing on its sides, day and night.”
“So you think destroying it will make a difference?” Shane asked.
“I don't know about that, but we could study it. Learn more about the enemy – the real enemy.”
“You still think it's alien?”
“That's what we need to find out.”
“Then let's go get it,” Stu said, inspired to be doing something positive. “We have firepower now.”
“If it's near the city, it's deep behind enemy lines,” Sam reminded them. “It won't be easy getting there.”
“We'll have to punch one helluva hole in their line,” George said, “but we can do it.”
What Bohai said next was entirely unexpected. “We have to go get to Walter.”
There was an exchange of confused looks. Had they heard that right?
“Walter? Why?” Jason asked bitterly.
“He might be able to help. He'd be the best qualified to look at this craft, whatever it is: a weapon or a ship. But he's surrounded by a swarm. We need to punch a hole through it and get to him.”
“If he is surrounded, how is he still alive?” Shane asked. “Are you sure he's still there?”
“Electric fences. For now, they're keeping the lizards away, but he's right at the front line of fighting.”
“So why do we need to go save that bastard?” Jason asked again. It was a good question. “He didn't help us. Not at all.”
“He has a lab. He certainly has more knowledge about biology and genetic mutations than we do, and he's better qualified to dissect the probe, if we find it. More importantly, the spiders want us to get his help.”
“And Dexter? Is he still around?”
“His compound hasn't been reached yet. He's still in there.”
“I'm not saving his poor ass,” Jason spat.
“Oddly, he might be the second evil genius we need on our side,” Sam remarked. “But those two hate each other, so let's just get to Walter for a start.”
Stu laid out th
e map, and showed George where they needed to go to reach Walter's house. They plotted the best route, avoiding the Grinner compound and hitting the flattest roads and fields as possible.
And then Sam made an announcement: “Shane can take my tank. I don't need one.”
“You're stayin' behind?” Jason was surprised.
“No, he's not staying behind,” Bohai said. “But he doesn't need a tank.”
“Oh, I see,” Shane said, instantly pissed off. “So you're just going to take the van... maybe a few extra arrows. Walk out on the field and talk them to death?”
“I've been practicing,” Sam said. “You know what I mean. The spark.”
“He's almost ready,” Bohai asserted, trying to be helpful, trying to be convincing.
“No.” Shane shook his head. “No way. A few sparks won't stop them. You'll be killed.”
“I won't be killed. I can do it,” Sam insisted. He sounded certain this time. “I'll be okay. I can shield myself. And I'll be behind the line of tanks.”
That part did appease his brother, if only the tiniest bit. “I don't like it. Listen: you stay behind the tanks. You promise? I mean... way behind the tank line.”
“Yes. I will.”
“This sounds risky to me,” Stu said. “I'm not sure I understand your voodoo gift, but it still sounds like a bad idea.”
Shane pointed his finger at Stu. “Thank you! I mean... right?”
“And I'm taking the jeep,” Sam said. “Not the van.”
“Oh, this keeps getting better and better.” The older brother held up his hands in a plea. “Not a good idea, Sammy, but you never listen to me.”
“I always listen to you, Shane,” Sam said softly. “But we have four tanks and lots of spiders. The General has promised to protect me.”
“Who?” George asked. “A General is here?”
“It's an inside joke,” Bohai said. “He's not a real General, as such. He's a really big... hairy, um... We discussed this earlier, remember?”
“He's a tarantula,” Sam said. “And he's protected us pretty well so far. Right? Now he promised to keep me safe.” That wasn't entirely true; he had promised to be there and fight beside them. Sam just needed to convince his brother to sign off on this.
“Those tanks will surprise the hell out of the lizards,” Bohai said, and he made a good point. “We've got lots of backup.”
“Lots of spiders.” Sam added.
“Awesome,” Shane said. He gave them his signature sarcastic thumbs-up.
They prepared to take the road right before noon, and Mark gave Sam his favorite Magic game card for good luck. It was an important gesture to him.
“Leviathan 10/10,” the boy told him. “It's always been good to me.”
“Thanks,” Sam said, and squeezed the kid's shoulder. He was actually a little touched by this.
“I'll take good care of it.”
“It'll take care of you,” Mark corrected him, then slipped the card into Sam's back pocket.
Sitting atop his Stingray, chewing on an unlit cigar in the corner of his mouth, George gave some last-minute advice: “The heavy rounds you carry are limited. Your 7mm cannon has 2400 rounds, but the big 14mm gun has only 8, plus 24 in the hull for reload. Fire that one with care. Any questions? ...No? Let's roll, soldiers.” He twirled his finger in a motion to move out.
The four tanks thundered to life and lurched forward, driven by George, Stu, Shane and Bohai. Sam and Camila lagged behind in the jeep. With difficulty, they had managed to convince Mark to remain behind with Jason, Tina, and his sister and mother. Jason also argued that his arm was better, but they decided he should stay at the lodge to recover and to guard the tower. However, they couldn't stop Camila. She was dead set on coming, and she had been practicing with a rifle and pistol for two days. She climbed into the passenger seat while Sam started the jeep.
Bulbous clouds swept in from the west, choking off most of the sun, and set the tone for the ominous day to come. The tanks rolled out onto the road in single file with a mighty rumble; the jeep followed. Mark and Lily waved emphatically from the watchtower. Lily kept waving until they were completely out of sight.
Sam glanced at Camila in the passenger seat, pistol at her belt, her rifle gripped with both hands above her lap.
“Don't be nervous,” he told her. “Take deep breaths, and aim for one target at a time. If you're calm, you'll hit more.”
“From what I saw on the video you brought back, we can probably just point straight ahead and shoot. The targets will be close together, shoulder to shoulder.”
He tilted his head. “Good point. But still, keep a cool head.”
“And you? Not nervous?”
“Oh, I'm scared to death. I'm just trying not to throw up before we get there.”
That made her laugh. “I get that. Look, I'll try to have your back. While you do your thing, I'll make sure nothing gets at you.”
“Word to the mother ship!” he joked. “That's all I need to know.”
The jeep bumped along behind the tanks, now crossing an open field in two by two formation. Even with four-wheel drive, the jeep had a hard time keeping up with the Stingrays. Walter's house was now in view, only a quarter mile away. A battle between the spiders and lizards raged all around it. Walter's house was literally the front line of a war zone. It seemed odd; Sam even wondered if Walter had something the lizards wanted, or if he was tormenting them.
As they approached Walter's electric fences, the spiders moved back. George fired a round from his tank. As expected, the first volley startled the lizards. It most likely scared the hell out of Walter, too. A dozen lizards blew into pieces that were showered across the field. Stu fired the second round, and another half dozen lizards blew up. Others scampered out of the way. The tanks rolled forward.
George's tank was first to reach the electric fence, which the tank crushed without effort. Since there were no sparks, it was assumed Walter had seen them and cut the power. George and Stu advanced toward the house, crushing more lizards under their wheels.
The spectacle had an immediate effect on the horde of creatures. They scattered and retreated. The black mass drew back a few hundred yards. Shane and Bohai drove their tanks up alongside the house with the others. The jeep drove right to the front door.
Men rushed from the house and began fixing the broken fence. They righted and stabilized it within two minutes. Their efficiency was an amazing feat to watch. Apparently, this wasn't their first time.
The fence sizzled, now live again, and the men stepped back from it. Meanwhile, the Peak group exited their tanks and headed for Walter's front porch. Camila and Sam were already inside the house.
Walter was furious, now giving it to Sam with both barrels.
“What the hell! You can't just take down my fence like that. There are people in this house, and important work.”
Stu raised a hand in peace, and said, “We brought tanks. We're here to help.”
“So? Who asked you to?” Walter fumed. “We don't need your help. How do you expect to get those machines off my property without destroying my fence again? The gate is too narrow.”
“Calm down,” Sam said.
Then Walter saw Shane. “You! Is Dexter behind this?”
“Okay, Walt,” said Shane in a cool tone, “I'm gonna tell you only one time, we are not with that douche-bag Dexter. I'll punch you in the mouth if you say it again. And – we're here to help you. You're welcome!”
“We don't need your help!” Walter wailed, red in the face.
“Honey, sit down,” his wife said in a cool, composed tone. “Let's all sit down and talk about this. They're already here. Let's hear what they have to say.” She was always able to disarm the quick-tempered man she had married. “I'm Margaret,” She told them. “Sit, all of you. I'll make some lemonade, and we'll talk.”
Shane recognized Jake and saluted him with two fingers. Jake returned a silent half-nod. One of the other men now came in the
front door. “The fence is back up, Dr. Feynman.” That appeased him a little.
“We'll talk, and then you go,” Walter said, now sitting down at the kitchen table. His tone evened out a little bit. “What do you want with me? Why are you even here?”
“We know what started this,” Sam said. That got Walter's attention, along with Max and everyone else. Sam now wished it were true. It was a fib borne from a truth. They suspected they knew what started this.
“What do you know?” Walter took off his glasses.
“A bunch of small spacecraft landed near all the major cities a few weeks ago. We think these spacecraft, or probes, distributed the bio-weapon that caused this mess. We also know where one is, and we're going out to find it. The answers may be in there, in the craft.”
“You know all this? How?”
Sam blushed and cleared his throat. We talk to birds and spiders, you see. “Well, that's hard to explain. But friends of ours saw it, and told us where to find it. We have a reconnaissance team.”
Walter was skeptical. “So what do you want with me?”
“Come with us. You're the most qualified to study this object. I mean, it may be something from outer space. Don't you want to be the first man on Earth to examine it?”
Sam was wise to appeal to the scientist's ego. Walter wanted to be the first to discover everything. His ego had driven him all his life; it's partly what had started his feud with Dexter.
Walter chewed on the end of his glasses. “Even if that's true, are you sure you can find it? What makes you think you can get near it? It's probably protected by an army, or a force field.”
“Our... sources... have been right up next to it,” Bohai said, “and crawled all over it. There's nothing stopping us from studying it. Maybe even take it apart.”
“This is a great opportunity,” Dr. Max Witherspoon whispered in his colleague's ear. “We can bring it back here.”
“How big is it?”
“Pretty big, from what I've heard,” Bohai said. “A few meters wide. We might not be able to move it. You'll need to come with us.”
Walter studied the faces of the intruders in his kitchen, as he pondered the idea of being the first scientist to study a probe from space. Perhaps something in this bio-weapon could be reversed, and he could be the one to stop the mutations. That would be better than winning the Nobel Prize.