“I’ve still got some bodies to bury. Then can I—”
“Yes, Jervis, but be sure to tend to this first.” Besser handed Jervis something, a black cube of some kind, the size of one of those Rubik things. “It’s programmed to detonate at one minute after midnight. Make sure you’re back before recharge.”
“When’s that?”
“Eleven fifty five, exactly.”
A bomb, Wade concluded. They’re talking about a bomb.
Was Besser smiling? “And now I have a little business to tend to myself. I’ll trust you to see that there are no problems.”
“Right, Prof. Later.”
Then both figures left the glowing orange room or corridor or whatever it was. Wade took his eye from the hole, aghast.
He had no idea what he’d just seen or heard, nor did he try to explain it to himself. All he knew was this:
They had a bomb, and it was going to go off at one minute past midnight.
Tonight.
—
CHAPTER 31
Winnifred sauntered naked through the low warrens. Heaven down here, she mused. She was out of control in her ecstasy. The psilight bathed her flesh as stark as bone as she wandered amid the humming, tinged dark. She was probably insane by now.
Soon they’d be gone, to greater miracles ahead. The joy of being part of it stunned her. Me. Goddess Winnifred. Excited blood pumped through her breasts and sex, and there she went again, touching herself, plying herself with her fingers.
The psilight hummed. Orange mist glowed within the productionholds, relative influx of the catalyticexchangers, which ran constantly. These low warrens seemed to extend infinitely. Just how deep did they go?
A factory! she thought in rushing pulses. A factory of love!
The sisters paid her no mind. They were perfect in their duplicity. Most were naked, as Winnifred herself, unflawed bodies moist in the orange tint. She recessed into the emwguidancetrackingpoint, a simple processor which countered magnetic quadrupole activity, generating negative kinetic charge momentum. The chamber was just a black honeycombed wall laced with fine threads. She sat down. Here, in the labyrinth’s heart, she would finish her orgasm.
Murmuring, she closed her eyes. The psilight licked her nerves, sucked heat into her body. She filled her mind with the most base sexual images: she was a cave woman being gang-raped in the woods. One dirty Neanderthal after the next stuck a penis that had never been washed into her mouth. Some came right there, sending globs of sperm down her throat, or pulling out to spatter her enraptured face. Other used the oral act as a primer after which they rammed their excited cocks into her sex, humped her hard in the dirt—one after another—until she was filled with semen, overflowing...
Winnifred’s legs tensed as the images grew more vile. She was being choked, sodomized, spat on and pissed upon, yet each demonstration only inflamed her more. Then she lay sopped and filthy; above her the cavemen stood round, all chuckling, as they masturbated in unison for a final climax. By the time they were all done coming on her, Winnifred felt covered with a hot, pale rue, and then—
Her fingers worked furiously, and there it went, like a bomb burst in her loins.
Lovely, lovely...
When she opened her eyes, a shadow stood over her.
“Dudley?” She squinted; it was him. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” answered the dark voice.
What could he want? He was supposed to be bringing in the holotype. She got up, taming her disdain. What did they need him for anyway? He was fat and arrogant. He sickened her.
Immediately, his fat arms were about her; he was kissing her, caressing her. “I love you,” he whispered, and urged her back into the servicepass. Here the psilight shined more keenly, replenishing her desires. His fat fingers fiddled at her sex. She could feel the puny erection through his size 54 trousers.
Lips like a fish groveled to hers. His tongue went into her mouth, his hand squeezed her buttocks.
Winnifred giggled. “Oh, Dudley, you’re impossible.”
His trousers fell. He pushed her to her knees.
So that’s what he wants. She gave it her best, pushing up, but—
“I’m sorry, Dudley, but you’re so fat I can’t get to it!”
Besser looked down. “Maybe you can get to this, then.”
Winnifred screamed. Besser jammed infusers into her neck, one in each hand, then discharged a third into her navel. The overdose of calciumdecimationliquetactor flooded her bloodstream. Winnifred’s bones dissolved at once, and she flopped on the floor.
Besser stepped on her stomach. Winnifred spouted vomit.
“How fat am I now, bitch?”
He stepped on her head, which squashed.
“How’s this for fat, hmmm?”
Then, chuckling, he walked all over her, like someone trodding grapes to mash. She looked ridiculous now, an inchoate, squirming mass. He picked her up and slopped her down on a levslat. Winnifred could only blubber in defense. He was trying to rape her on the slat, his little bone prodding her spread flesh, seeking entrance.
Chubby hands kneaded her around like a wet towel, but soon the attempts faltered. Any orifice he sought to invade proved too slack for coital purchase. Instead, he panted, laughing, and masturbated. Winnifred could only slog upon the slat.
Besser squeezed her head again. Her eyeballs popped out, suspended by nerves. “Here’s some fat for you,” he announced. He ejaculated massively into her squashed face.
Winnifred’s dreams of godhood pulsed away as quickly. Besser dragged her down the pass, opened a hatch, and then was stuffing her into one of the dropchutes. Winnifred wailed in blubbering squeals. She flopped in resistance but to no use, oozing into the chutehatch like warm porridge.
“Goodbye, Winnie.” Besser smiled and pulled the releaserod. Immediately, she fell. Just minutes ago she’d wondered how deep the labyrinth was—now she was finding out. She tumbled sloppily straight down. For minutes? Hours? She didn’t know. Through the labyrinth’s bowels she descended, down and down…
The dropchute emptied into a slime walled hold. Winnifred dumped out onto the floorwall, landing in a pile of excrement. She churned. Ten stout holotypes surrounded her, flexing upward on corded limbs. Plump tongues fell out of slatted mouths, and their erections, long as human arms, were more proof than she’d ever need of their arousal. Here, finally, were the cavemen of her fantasies. She floundered in the midst of them—a relief package from the gods—as they hurried to line up for this obvious and ultimate outrage: an alien gang bang.
When they were finished, they ate her.
««—»»
From the basement utility room, Jervis sent the elevator to the sixth floor. Then he shorted the terminals and bypassed the control relay. Now the elevator was stranded.
I’m being creative, he thought. He walked up to the fourth floor, carrying under one arm five county manhole covers. They weighed eighty pounds apiece. On four, he forced open the elevator door and looked down. Then he smiled.
He was grateful Czanek had gotten the address. Here it is. He dropped the manhole covers all at once. The floor shuddered.
He rang the doorbell.
“Vas? Sarah?”
“Meter man,” Jervis said.
“Zählerableser?” The door opened a crack. “Zerr ist no meter.”
Jervis grinned. “Hi, Wilhelm.”
Wilhelm’s handsome face pinched. “Vas ist…? You!”
Jervis smacked the door open. Enraged, Wilhelm stepped back. He wore a black robe with a Das Reich emblem on the breast.
“Vut do you vahnt?”
“Revenge—no, cosmogenic justice,” Jervis corrected.
Wilhelm laughed. “You vahnt to fight me, Arschkipf?”
“You took what was mine. Let’s just say that compensation is in order.”
“Ich pisse dir gleich ans Bein.” Wilhelm produced a pistol. A Luger, Jervis noted. Why am I not surprised? Did th
e guy carry guns around in his robe? Wilhelm cocked the parabellum slide. “Get out or I vill blow you guts up all over zah valls. Out! Schnell!”
Was he bluffing? Perhaps a little provocation would tell. “Say, your father surrendered to the Russians, didn’t he?”
“Schwein! Mein fah zer vas unt war hero! He vun zah Knight’s Cross mitt oak leaf clusters at Sevastopol!”
“I don’t care if he won the Popsicle stick cross with cock rings at Fire Island. He was a Nazi coward. He sucked Himmler’s balls, and your mama fucked Russians for free.”
That was all it took. Some guys just couldn’t take a joke. Wilhelm fired a volley of shots. The 9mm bullets stitched a line across Jervis’ chest, punching smoking holes.
Jervis fell down and calmly got back up. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that, pal.”
Seeing sheer terror congeal on the face of this Aryan pillar of muscle brought delight to Jervis’ heart. Wilhelm fled to the bedroom to a closet. Jervis followed him in.
In the closet hung SS banners, regimental standards, and a Nazi state flag. There was also a glass case full of iron crosses and NSDAP pins. Wilhelm unwrapped a ceremonial SS dagger.
“That’s what I call a closet Nazi,” Jervis quipped. He smiled at his opponent’s antics. “What are you doing?”
Wilhelm gripped the dagger, shouted, “Aufgeben? Nein!” and lunged. The blade sunk hilt deep into Jervis’ stomach.
“Take zat!”
Jervis tsked, standing tall. He withdrew the dagger and opened his shirt. Wilhelm stared at the bloodless slit and bullet holes.
“Gott int Himmel,” he muttered.
A fast backhand sent the German flying across the room. His robe had come apart, showing a limp Teutonic penis. Jervis noted with some despair that Wilhelm’s member was bigger soft than Jervis’ was hard. He seriously considered cutting it off with the dagger, but that seemed petty. Even an asshole like Wilhelm didn’t deserve to have his dick cut off.
Jervis shrugged. He cut it off anyway. Wilhelm’s deep shuddering scream sounded like a truck motor in high gear.
Jervis held it up for his foe to see.
“Arrrgh!” Wilhelm bellowed, convulsing. “Mein schlong!”
Jervis smiled brighter than a thousand suns. The act was a symbol; he’d evened the score for all the guys in the world who had lost their loves to a bigger penis. “See how many girlfriends you steal now, buddy boy.”
Wilhelm kicked away, his screams downshifting to wavering groans. He managed to get up, which Jervis found admirable. It took a man of some resilience to stand up so quickly after having his penis removed with an SS dagger.
“Run,” Jervis advised.
Hand to bloody crotch, Wilhelm staggered out. Jervis lit a Carlton and took a deep, satisfying drag. Smoke eddied up through the holes in his chest. He heard the German stumble out.
Then, as predicted, came the long descending “Woooooeeee!”
Thump!
Jervis meandered to the hall and looked down the elevator shaft. Sure enough, there lay Wilhelm at the bottom, broken, twisted, but—thankfully—still alive.
“Now we’re going to play a game,” Jervis called down. “And the name of the game is America Bombs the Fatherland.”
Wilhelm whined, pleading up the shaft for mercy. Jervis released the first manhole cover. It banged to the bottom but missed.
“Damn, I guess I better adjust my Norden bombsight, huh?” Jervis let the second manhole cover go. Its edge caught Wilhelm across the knees. Wilhelm roared.
“Good,” Jervis approved, “but not good enough.” The third cover floated down almost dreamily. Wilhelm’s bulged eyes watched it descend. “Nein, nein, nein,” he moaned.
The eighty pound manhole cover landed square across Wilhelm’s stomach. Wilhelm’s entire GI tract exploded out his mouth.
“Direct hit!” Jervis celebrated. For posterity, he dropped a fourth cover, which flattened Wilhelm’s head.
««—»»
Wade slunk into his dorm room, locked the door. Finding Lydia was his priority, but he couldn’t very well search for her on an eighth of a tank of gas. His wallet was empty, and his only remaining cash was at the dorm. But now…
What was it?
He set Lydia’s .357 on the bed. He scratched his head, looked absently out the window. Normal out there, everything’s normal. He got an Adams out of the fridge. It tasted good, it tasted normal But still…
Then he realized what it was. He had that proverbial feeling that he was being watched.
“You’re probably wondering why you feel like you’re being watched,” came the voice of Tom McGuire.
Wade dropped his beer.
Tom’s severed head had been placed atop Wade’s stereo. The gray face grinned. “What’s up, buddy?”
“Give me a fucking break!” Wade appreciably exclaimed. He asked the first logical question. “How did you get here? You obviously didn’t walk!”
“Jervis left me,” Tom’s head answered, “to pass on a message.”
Wade sat down on the bed. I’m having a conversation with a severed head, he realized. How much further could this go? “Why did you and Jervis go over to the Supremate?”
Tom mistakenly tried to shrug. “We didn’t have much of a choice, we were chosen. Besides, the Supremate offers immortality for service.” Tom’s head paused. “I guess that part’s out for me now. What’s he gonna do, make my head immortal?” Tom chuckled. “You’re not cooperating, Wade. The Supremate’s got a deal for you.”
“Tell the Supremate he can kiss my ass,” Wade said.
Tom’s eyes flicked to the fridge. “Pop me open a Spaten, will you? It’s not like I can get it myself.”
“I don’t pour beer for heads,” Wade told him.
Sudden anger tinted Tom’s expression. “I’m trying real hard to keep my cool. I lost my job because of you, ya know.”
Wade sulked. “Yeah, I guess you’re pretty pissed.”
“If your best friend wrecked your car and got your head cut off, wouldn’t you be pissed?”
“It was an accident, Tom. I’m sorry.”
“If you’re sorry, make it up to me. Join the Supremate.”
“Join this,” Wade replied, indicating his crotch.
Tom’s chuckle came off as a blend of amusement and sullenness. “I already told you, Jervis left me here to pass on a message—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Wade said. “I don’t give a fuck.”
“The message is this: We have Lydia.”
Silent turmoil landed on Wade like a dropped net.
“Jerv snatched her at the student shop. We’ve got her locked up at the labyrinth. Look, Wade, we don’t give a shit about her; she’s useless to us, and we’re not going to be around long enough for her to hurt us if we let her go. So that’s the deal. Join the Supremate, and we let her go. No bullshit.”
Wade’s thoughts echoed like drips in a cavern—
—and Tom’s head went on, “But if you refuse, the girl is shit out of luck. They’ll turn her into ground round, nice and slow, and they’ll let the holotypes have her first. You gonna sit back and let a bunch of aliens fuck your girlfriend? Don’t you love her, Wade? What are you gonna do?”
“What I’m going to do,” Wade answered, “is put you into the trash compactor. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“Super, Wade. Avoid the issue. Chicken out.”
“Shut up,” Wade said. “I’m no chicken.”
“Buk, buk, buk. You’re gonna let the girl you love die slow because you don’t have the balls to accept change.”
“Piss off.”
“I’m leveling with you, Wade. Not as a vassal, as a friend.”
“Hey,” Wade said. “Tom McGuire was my friend. But you’re not him anymore. You’re just an evil…head.”
“Thanks a lot, pal.”
But Tom—or Tom’s head—was right about one thing. Wade was putting off the inevitable choice. He could
take the coward’s way out, or the man’s way. Do I really love her that much?
“It’s decision time,” Tom announced. “In a second that phone’s going to ring. It’ll be Besser, and he’ll want an answer.”
“Besser doesn’t even know I’m here,” Wade scoffed.
“Sure he does” —Tom’s dead lips drew up in pride— “I just told him through my transceptionrod.”
Wade didn’t even bother frowning when the phone rang. He simply picked it up and held it to his ear.
“Wade, my boy. I’m glad you got our little message.”
“Clever,” Wade said. “Next time leave a note on my refrigerator with a fruit magnet.”
“Time is short. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes,” Wade said.
“A wise decision. Your lovely paramour goes free, and you get to live forever…with us.”
“How are we going to do this?”
“Meet me at my office,” Besser instructed. “In twenty minutes. We’ll be waiting. And, Wade, no tricks, please. Or else—”
Wade hung up. I’m neck deep in it now, he thought. “Why me?” he asked of Tom’s head. “Why does the Supremate want me?”
“Because you’re the healthiest able bodied male on campus. We couldn’t take just anyone, not for something this important. That’s why Besser had me swipe the medical records from the clinic. He wanted to check the medical histories of as many students as possible within the time frame, and that’s what he and Winnie did. They selected the healthiest candidates of the bunch. The Supremate needs five girls and one guy. You’re the lucky guy.”
Wade got another beer. He sat glumly on the bed and drank.
“Don’t look so bummed,” Tom offered. “You get to live forever, man. We’re talking eternal fucking life.”
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