by David Coy
When it stopped there was no more snuffling or nudging, just the sounds of the jungle, and again, Eddie thought the thing had gone away. Maybe it wasn’t so smart. Maybe the shelter confused it somehow. Maybe the whistle was the sound it made when it couldn’t do what it wanted.
Then Eddie heard another sound, an angry running sound and breaking branches coming at the shelter. Then nothing.
Suddenly, the whole side of the shelter flew off as if struck, sending leaves and pieces of vine flying. Eddie scooted away from the gaping hole as far as he could. Looking out through the ragged breach, he saw two things standing there—two impossible things—waiting to eat him. One of them had a thing that looked like a long tube. There was a sound like a pneumatic hose popping loose, and he felt something hit him. He looked down and saw a spiny ball stuck to his side. One of the impossible things had shot him with it.
He wanted to cry out, but a flood of numbing warmth was radiating out from the ball so fast that he didn’t have a chance. When the rush got up to his head, he felt like he was sinking in warm water.
* * *
When he could open his eyes, he was surrounded by what he thought were the thick roots of plants that had been placed around him. But when he blinked, his vision clear, he saw that the roots were actually creatures, bent and twisted, with stick thin arms and pointed faces. They were covered with short spiny hair that pointed downward. One of them waddled closer and reached out and touched his arm with twig-like fingers.
He could move his head a little; and when he looked down at himself, he saw that he was naked. He could barely feel the thing’s touch and wondered why the touch was so light. When he looked down at the spot where the creature had touched him, he saw that his skin was dented from a very strong grip—he just couldn’t feel much of it.
There were at least four of the creatures around him that he could see. The one that had grabbed his arm was tugging on him, trying to turn him, to position him just right. He felt himself sliding across the table as the thing pulled, but he could barely feel his body.
Then the thing reached up and opened a little door on what looked like a dark, round globe hanging from the ceiling. A swarm of shiny insects buzzed out of the globe, by one's and two's, then bunches, and flew around the dark room. Some of them came up close to his face and held still in the air and buzzed. Eddie had seen them before. They were the big black, white and yellow wasps he’d seen in the jungle a few times. They'd always left him alone. But this time, some of them started to dart down at him and bang into him. He could see tiny drops of blood forming where they hit him and soon he could feel nothing at all. Some of the wasps started to land on him, and, one at a time, began to stick their long tails down into him. Eddie didn’t feel anything, but he knew what they were doing. It was the thing most of the bugs on Verde did—lay eggs in you.
The root creatures just watched and made little whistling or scratchy noises.
With the odd creatures around him, Eddie lay in the dark place. He watched the wasps and knew he was going to die—he just hoped it wouldn’t hurt too much. He hoped his friends would be okay. He hadn’t minded being locked up with them all this time too bad. He had been with John and Donna and Rachel, and they were good to him.
He’d miss Donna the most. She was a good lady.
Eddie Silk closed his eyes and slept.
17
She was fully dressed but still a little groggy. That wasn’t surprising since she’d slept twelve hours that he knew for sure. When she bent down to tie her bootlace, she almost fell over. John went down on one knee and started to tie it for her.
“I guess I’ve made a mess of things, huh?” she said. “Don’t be silly,” John said. “It’s not your fault.”
“Somebody’s gotta take the blame.”
“Not you. How are you feeling?”
“Well enough to get outta here.”
“That’s going to be tough,” he said.
“No, it’s not.”
“How do you figure? This place is a virtual maze. The only way out is back the way we came—right through the lab; and if we go that way, we’ll run right into the mercs.”
She dismissed his concern. “I’ve got this whole section of the organism memorized. These tunnels radiate out in a series of concentric rings with the lab as the center. It is a maze, but there’s a logic to it. Here, look.” She squatted down and drew with finger and invisible ink a group of semi-circles, nested together. “They radiate outward like this. The ends of each one terminate in a big chamber. Sub-chambers like the one we’re in are dotted all along the arcs. There’s at least one connector from one arc to the next.” She dashed the connectors in with a finger. “Like here, here, here.”
“So where’s the outside?” he wanted to know.
“The last ring has connectors, too. But they dump right to the outside,” she said with a grin.
“How do you know?”
She looked askance at him. “Just what do you think I was doing in the months we lived here? I was studying the goddamned thing. That means learning about it—figuring it out.”
“Sorry.”
“Accepted. Let’s get outta here.”
They moved cautiously to the tunnel, and Rachel led the way down it. They started the long trek to the outside by following the tube around until they caught a connector. Moving to the next ring out, they followed it around until they came to the next connector then repeated the process. A half-hour later, they were in the last ring, and John could see daylight streaming in from one of the exit holes ahead. He put his arm around Rachel and tugged her in as they walked.
“You really know your stuff,” he said, almost laughing. “What a sense of direction!”
“Uncanny, isn’t it?” she replied, smiling back.
The short connector met the outside almost at ground level. It was raining hard. They hopped down onto a spongy patch of ground and were instantly soaking wet. It didn’t seem to matter.
“Where to?” she asked.
“Habershaw’s bulldozer. We can hide out until they come back into radio range.”
“I’m hungry,” she said. The way Rachel said it was different from the way other people said it. When Rachel said it she really meant it.
“There’s food on the rig,” he promised. “Can you make it?”
“I think so.”
They made their way around the perimeter of the organism, pushing through the cool, wet leaves. Soon they had reached the shuttle area. While Rachel stayed well back out of sight, John peeked through the foliage and scoped it out. He could see the corner of the rig to the northwest, sitting like some mechanical apparition in the wet mist. A truck rumbled past, far out on the road.
“How are we gonna make it across without being seen?” Rachel asked.
It was a simple question. Waiting until nightfall was the logical answer, but nightfall brought the planet to life, and they only had the one net suit. Not only that, Rachel would be beside herself with hunger by then.
“We can’t,” he replied. “We’ll have to work our way out and around through the jungle. We’ll come in behind the rig. Then it should be no problem to get on board. It’s quite a ways. Can you make it?”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll make it,” she said.
They doubled back and went south then turned west until they came to the road. The rain and passing truck’s tires had churned the road into a river of mud. They watched as one enormous truck slogged through the morass, its huge tires occasionally spinning and throwing buckets of mud high into the air. When it was far enough down the road, John chanced another look. He could see the distant lights of a coming truck way down the road, but it was too far away to be of any consequence.
They dashed across the road like wet animals, slipping and splashing through the deep, thin mud. They clamored into the foliage on the other side of the road and turned north, paralleling it. Soon they
were at the edge of the clearing, and the rig was visible again, closer this time. Though stopped now, the rain had turned the entire area into a sea of slop. The lifts and trucks plowed through it, their tires caked heavy with brown mud.
They moved west again for a while, then turned north, following the edge of the clearing until they were directly in back of the rig. From there, they could traverse the distance easily, completely hidden from view of the activity on the other side. Soon they would be safe and dry, and he could get Rachel fed. Her hunger was no small matter. He’d seen the stress of it spawn a seizure.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“If you include the mud on my feet?”
“Yeah. With mud.”
“Very hungry.”
He smiled. Humor was a good sign. She’d never had a seizure anywhere near a humorous remark she’d made. “We’ll be there soon,” he said, “and I’ll spoon feed you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
They climbed up the rig’s giant track then down the stairs on the inside until they came to the gangway that led to the storage locker. John pried the door open.
The mid-morning sun was coming out from behind the clouds to the east. Soon the heat would mix with the wet and the air would turn to steam. They went inside.
“Home, sweet home,” he said.
“Feed me,” she said.
* * *
Habershaw was getting much better at it. He could turn without dipping down into the canopy and could stop and hover without drifting too much. Donna wasn’t nearly as impressed with his progress as he was.
“Did you see that?” he asked. “I just barely touched that tree limb. Just like I planned.”
She’d just tried to raise John on the radio again, without success. They’d have to get closer, park the shuttle and try again. If Mayflower hadn’t reported the shuttle stolen, he was probably thinking about it because the longer he waited, the worse it looked for him. She wasn’t sure, but she thought that thing about the transponder gizmo might get them into trouble without John to take care of it. She mentioned it to Habershaw.
“You’re probably right,” he said.
They had moved to the coastline just before dawn and were now moving slowly north along the shore, just a few meters above the water and deep in the shadows.
“How far are we from the monolith now?” she asked.
“Maybe two kilometers,” he said.
“That’s close enough. Set the shuttle down on the beach. I’ll try him again.”
The narrow strip of beach was just barely wide enough to land on. Habershaw pulled up, stopped and put the shuttle down with a hard bump. “Whoops,” he said. He shut the power off.
Donna adjusted the microphone and turned the transmitter on.
“John? Come in, John.”
There was a burst of static, and Donna heard a faint voice through the headphones. She adjusted the volume.
“I hear you,” John’s voice said through a crackle of static.
“There he is,” Habershaw said.
“Hey! You’re still breathing,” Donna said. “How’s Rachel doing?”
“She’s fine. Dirty and damp, but fine. We’re in the rig.”
“How did you get out?” Habershaw asked.
“Rachel’s idea. Come and get us. Let’s get out of here.”
“We’re on our way,” she said. “Don’t get too comfortable.”
“Just hurry up!” she heard Rachel say in the background.
“Tell her to relax!” Donna said with a smile.
“No way—she’s still hungry,” John said.
“Oh, shit,” Donna said. “I hope she doesn’t decide to eat you before we get there.”
“Where’s your pal, Lavachek?” John asked. “We’ve been here for an hour and haven’t seen him. I don’t think he’s on the rig.
“That’s damned odd,” Habershaw said. “He should be. He usually sticks to the rig like glue.”
Donna knitted her brow. “We’re on our way,” she said.
Habershaw turned the shuttle on and lifted off. He veered out away from shore for a hundred meters, then began to climb. As soon as they rose above tree level, they could see the monolith to the northeast, towering above the jungle’s solid green mass. Keeping as close to the canopy as he dared, Habershaw headed straight for it.
“They’re gonna be here in a minute or two,” John said to Rachel. “Let’s go.”
Rachel cocked her head. “Did you hear something?” she asked.
John listened.
“Like what?”
“Voices.”
He listened again.
“No,” he said still listening. “Let’s go.”
He put his hand on the latch mechanism and turned it. The door opened a little with a creak. He put his ear to the opening and listened a moment more.
“I don’t hear anything,” he said.
“I heard voices,” she whispered.
He unslung the rifle and using the muzzle, pushed the door open some more.
There was a pop sound then a clang as the canister hit the inside of the door. It bounced around the room, then spun, hissing madly, in a tight circle on the floor. The room was filled with a heavy, acrid scent.
“Gas!” John yelled.
“Oh, no, no,” Rachel moaned.
John gasped a breath and held it, but tasted gas. Too late. The pungent gas went to work immediately, and he felt a lightness in his head. He stumbled out the door and felt Rachel fall against his back, and then he heard her hit the metal grate. The rifle fell from his hands like a feather. He looked down the catwalk and made his eyes focus. He could see a cluster of mercenaries, in assault formation, rifles pointed directly at him. Behind them was Greg Lavachek.
He expected the sound of rifle fire and the sting of bullets, but it never came. He wanted to feel anger, but he could feel nothing at all.
* * *
“Stop! Stop!” Donna said. “Pull back!”
“What?” Habershaw asked, surprised.
“Look!” she said, pointing at the rig. “Christ, they’ve killed them! Goddamnit! They’ve killed them!”
Habershaw stopped the shuttle and pulled back on the stick, putting it in reverse for a few meters until they were well back over the canopy again. Donna rose out of her seat to look. There, next to the rig, was a knot of perhaps six mercenaries standing around two fallen forms—two forms she knew well, limp and lifeless, lying in the mud.
Habershaw kept looking at the two bodies and the mercenaries standing over them and wondered if that was the way it had been the day they killed Joan. Did they just mill around Joan’s body like they were John’s and Rachel’s? Did they make small talk while his dead wife’s body lay in the dirt? He closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to keep his anger down.
“What the hell are they doing?” Donna asked.
“Waiting for a bus,” Habershaw offered.
Donna spoke for both of them. “I’m gonna kill all of them,” she said. “So help me, God. I’m gonna kill every last one of them.”
Habershaw was the first to see it: John was moving, his arms and legs were making uncoordinated movements. Then Rachel started—her legs kicking slowly at the ground. “They’re not dead,” he said, grinning.
Donna looked. He was right. They were moving, moving, just barely, but they were alive.
“If we don’t get them out of there, they soon will be,” Donna said.
“We need a weapon,” Habershaw said, looking around.
“You’re driving it,” Donna said.
Habershaw looked at her like she was nuts. “Ram them?”
Donna pointed. “Come fast around this side of the rig, then turn into them. By the time they see us, it’ll be too late. Now’s the perfect time, while the bastards are all knotted up.”
Habershaw banked left and ran along the canopy until he was well past the rig. Then he dropped down behind, turned and got into pos
ition. Fifty meters off the other end of the giant machine was the knot of mercenaries, just out of view.
“Go!” Donna yelled.
Habershaw pushed the stick forward. Keeping the altitude steady at just a half meter, the shuttle raced down the side of the rig. He hoped John and Rachel were still flat on the ground.
The shuttle cleared the end of the rig, and Habershaw turned hard left, throwing Donna against the window. One of the mercenaries turned as the speeding shuttle approached, and Habershaw saw that the man wasn’t a soldier, but Greg Lavachek. Habershaw saw his mouth open in a silent scream as the shuttle hit him squarely.
“Shit!” Habershaw blurted out.
The hurling shuttle slammed into the bodies in a series of quick and sickening thumps, leaving blood splatters on the windscreen. It was a clean sweep and over in a literal instant.
“Yes!” Donna yelled.
Habershaw turned hard again, stopped, and then crept back toward the scene of mayhem. Bodies and guns were strewn at random, and the only bodies moving were those of Rachel and John.
“You couldn’t have done that any better,” Donna said grinning. “Look at that! Perfect!”
“Yeah . . .”
“Oh, c’mon! Didn’t that feel good?”
Sure.
“Hey, you’ll get over it.”
“I killed Greg Lavachek.”
Donna couldn’t have cared less. “Lavachek was bad news,” she said. “My guess is he turned John and Rachel over to the Council. You did the right thing. Park right here. We’ve got to hurry.”
They opened the cargo door and jumped down into the mud to get John and Rachel. Donna did a quick appraisal of each patient, checking pupils, pulse, and respiration. She could see no wounds or other apparent damage. “They don’t look injured. We’ve got to move fast.”
Habershaw took John by the arms and started to drag him toward the open door.
A few meters away, one of the soldiers stirred, then regained enough of his senses to slowly raise his rifle and point it at Habershaw.
Donna saw it. “Watch out!” she screamed, kicking at the weapon.