Sea of Sorrows

by James A. Moore

  * * *

  After a few minutes his eye caught something. There was movement out on the sands. That was something at least. He didn’t feel so completely abandoned any more.

  Not that he was planning on going out there or letting anyone in who didn’t knock first. In his experience, you couldn’t be too careful.

  48

  LOVE

  Perkins’s jaw felt like it was ready to fall off. Her lips were swollen and tender. Her neck hurt.

  Everything hurt, really.

  Somewhere in the distance she heard shouting and weapons fire. There was the kind of screeching the bugs made, but louder.

  The darkness wasn’t complete—that was the first thing she noticed. She opened her eyes slowly, and felt the ache in the side of her head where she’d gotten her helmet ripped free by the thing that attacked her. She tried reaching for her head, and realized her hands were bound.

  So she studied the darkness.

  The black stuff from the tunnels was all around her. She could feel it touching her neck, her face. She could wiggle a few fingers on her left hand, and they touched something warm, but her right hand was useless and the attempt to make her fingers move resulted only in a new surge of agony.

  The monster had bitten her hand. She remembered how fast it was, and the sudden explosion of pain that ran from her wrist to the tip of her middle finger. She was pretty sure all of her fingers were still there, but damn they hurt.

  The warmth against her left hand moved a bit and she turned her head as best she could.

  Piotrowicz’s voice spoke out. He had an unpleasant, wet sound to his speech.

  “Wondered if you would wake up.”

  “Petey? What the hell’s going on?”

  He laughed. It was a soft chuffing noise that broke into a small coughing fit.

  “You probably can’t see it, but the spider-things are all over the place. You had one on your face a while ago. So did I. Cho’s got one covering his face right now.”

  “What?” It hurt to talk. She licked her tender lips and tasted something other than blood. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was, but the taste was bitter, almost metallic.

  “We’re done,” he said. “We’re already dead, Perkins. We just have to wait a while for the rest of it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Her voice broke. She felt the sting of tears and tried to force them back.

  “That civvie from earlier, Colleen something-or-other. She had one of these things attack her. It put something inside. I felt it. I felt that goddamned thing in my mouth, in my throat.” His voice was hoarse and he let out a long, shuddery breath. “I think I can feel it moving inside me. We’re going to die. It’s going to be bad.”

  “Fuck, Petey.”

  “I know.” She felt the warmth move against her fingers. “Can you reach that?”

  “Reach what?” She felt fabric. The cloth was wet and held the sort of heat she always thought of when she touched a kid with a fever. Her nephew Joe always got fevers. The kid was sickly as all get out. Then she felt a metal line slide across her fingertip. “Wait. I think I have something.” She wriggled her fingers and strained hard, and felt the thin metal press between her fingers. “I’ve got it, I think.”

  “Good. That’s good.” Piotrowicz coughed. “I was wondering how smart those things are, you know? I mean, they’re good hunters. They work together. I’ve seen whole units didn’t work that well together, back in the Colonials. And you remember Phillips, right? Man couldn’t even spell teamwork.”

  “Yeah. I remember him.” She hadn’t much liked Phillips. He was a bitter man with a bad attitude. Also, he had the worst damned breath.

  “Well, I think they’re animal smart, not people smart. Know why?”

  She didn’t really want to play twenty questions, but, really, there wasn’t much else to do.

  “Tell me.”

  Before he could answer, another man’s voice interrupted. She didn’t recognize it—he wasn’t one of the mercs.

  “Can anyone hear me?” He coughed, a nasty, wet cough. “Something’s wrong with me. Really wrong. I can’t see, and my chest burns.”

  He stopped speaking for a moment and Perkins could hear him panting in the distance. When the man started up again, he was praying. After only a few moments of trying to make his way through what she thought was the Lord’s Prayer, he started screaming. It was bad. His tone rose in octaves and decibels alike, and then faded away into whimpers.

  Piotrowicz spoke again.

  “He won’t be around long. I think it’s coming out of him. I was thinking they aren’t very smart, because they left my belt on. I’ve been working for a while now, trying to get to my belt. Turns out I should have just waited for you.”

  She almost laughed.

  “Petey, I don’t care if it’s the end of the fucking universe, I’m not taking off your pants.”

  And in response he did laugh. It was weak, but it was heartfelt, and the only reason he stopped was because the screamer started up again, wailing his pain out into the darkness around them.

  From somewhere nearby she heard the sound of one of those things moving. They made a soft clicking noise when their parts rubbed together. Like plastic or glass.

  When he could speak again Piotrowicz did so with a note of humor in his voice.

  “I really love you, Perkins. But honestly, I always kind of thought of you like a big sister.” He paused for a moment. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have, you know, if the circumstances were different. But no. I mean, they didn’t take my belt. And they didn’t take the grenade I was trying to reach. The one you’ve got your fingers on now.”

  Not far away the screamer spiraled down into sobs.

  “Oh.” It was all she could think to say.

  “I think if I move my hip and you pull at the same time, we can probably get the pin out. After that I just have to wiggle around a bit to depress the striker.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Piotrowicz didn’t answer. He let the screamer answer for him.

  When he stopped, they were silent for a time.

  “Okay, Petey.”

  “Good. I think we can end this a lot faster for all of us.”

  “Is the charge big enough?”

  “Perkins, honey? Have you ever known anyone to accuse me of using anything less than excessive force?”

  The screamer started up again and then stopped with a strangled gurgling sound, accompanied by a tearing that sounded like more than cloth.

  “Let’s do this,” she said. “Petey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Tell me you love me, one more time.” She pulled hard at the pin. Her fingers strained and the wire hoop tried to slip free, but she caught it in time and after five of the longest seconds of her life, she managed to slip it free from the safety.

  “I love you, Perkins.”

  The heat of his body pressed hard against her fingers, and she dropped the pin.

  49

  DIFFERENCES

  Somewhere in the distance there was a sound, almost like a detonation, but muffled by the immensity of the rock walls.

  Then there was silence.

  Decker looked around and saw the dead bugs, the dead mother of all monsters, the dead mercenaries, and wondered exactly how it was that he was still alive.

  Mostly that was Manning. The mercenary was still standing, and only a few feet away. He had looked considerably better in the past, but he was alive. There were four of them still standing, and all of them were bloodied.

  “Adams,” Decker said. His body was shaking from over-exertion and adrenaline, but he moved anyway. Adams lay where she had fallen, that vile thing wrapped around her face. She was alive. He could see her breathing. Like the people they’d seen stuck to the walls, she gave off a different emotional resonance. Being around her actually made his own mind calm down.

  “One of those things is on Elway, too,” Manning said.

 
He looked. Elway was an older guy, not exactly prone to speaking up. Hell, the man had never said a single word that Decker could recall.

  “They’re different.”

  “What?”

  “The things on their faces. They’re different.” They were, too. The one on Elway was smaller. The one on Adams was larger, and seemed more elaborate. It had webbing between the front and rear legs.

  “Whatever,” Manning said. He looked around at the dead and the wounded. Then he reached for his knife, and looked at the thing on Elway.

  “No,” Muller said. “Acid blood. You’ll burn his face off.”

  Manning looked at the thing on his mercenary, and finally nodded.

  “We need to get out of this place,” he said. “We need to get to the surface.”

  Decker stared long and hard at Adams.

  “So let’s go,” he said. His hands caught her at the shoulder and at the knee, and he hefted her weight across his shoulders. She seemed to weigh almost nothing, but he knew that wouldn’t last. They had a long way to go, and well before they reached their destination she was going to be a very heavy burden.

  Manning grabbed Elway and hoisted him over one shoulder, slinging him like a duffle bag. In exchange he dropped most of his supplies, keeping only his rifle, and the belt of knives and assorted tools around his waist.

  “Take the lead,” the merc leader said.

  Decker tried not to think about the people they were leaving behind. He didn’t know them. They weren’t his friends or his family. Objectively, they were his captors. It still didn’t feel right. But there was no other choice.

  They moved quickly, heading back the way they’d come. As they passed the bodies stuck to the walls, Decker looked away. Manning did not. He studied each face as they went past. He couldn’t guarantee it, but Decker thought the man was memorizing them.

  Muller—at least Decker thought that was the man’s name—glanced over to where Manning looked and spoke softly.

  “Want them left alive?”

  Manning kept looking, but shook his head. There were no words.

  Muller trailed behind the others. A few moments later Decker heard a series of detonations behind him. He didn’t know what Muller had used, and he didn’t care.

  Eventually the man caught up.

  “Where are they?” he asked as he fell into step with them. “Are they all gone, Decker?”

  “No.” He felt for them. “Not nearly.”

  “How many of those bastards are there?”

  “Lots. Too many. More than I ever could have imagined. But right now they seem to be worrying about something else.” He closed his eyes, focused. “They’ll come for me again.”

  “Why?” Manning asked. Decker was surprised by his curiosity.

  “I think hatred is the only thing they know. And they hate me. Maybe for what this Ellen Ripley woman did to them. Maybe just because I smell funny to them. I don’t know for sure. I just know they want me dead.”

  “Well, I’m not so fond of you, either,” Manning said. “But I like them less. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  The elevator was down and none of them wanted to climb that entire length of cable. It took them almost twenty minutes to find an access stairway. The damned thing wasn’t hidden, but it was unmarked, and nearly lost in shadows.

  The door was jammed, but Manning fixed that quickly enough. When they were through, he studied the hinges on the door for a moment and then rammed his knife into the spot between door and jamb. A simple wedge, but it would take a lot of effort to force the door open. For extra measure he looked to the last member of the group.

  “Dave, glue that bastard shut.”

  The man Decker thought of as Llewellyn nodded and dug into his backpack. The goo he laid against the metal made door and frame both sizzle for a few moments, and then run together.

  “Shit. How many feet down are we?” Muller’s voice was justifiably exasperated.

  “About one less with every stair, sunshine.” Manning’s voice wasn’t as encouraging as his words. Just the same Muller took the hint and started upward.

  One less foot with every step. Maybe not quite accurate, but it was true enough for Decker. He walked, doing his best not to complain each time Adams’s weight shifted on his shoulders. Manning was walking ahead of him, and he made it look like carrying Elway was easy. He hated the bastard just a little more for that.

  50

  THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD

  Willis was suffering from a serious case of the flop sweats.

  His legs were shaking and his arms flopped uselessly at his sides, except when he tried to use them to pull him up another set of stairs.

  Eyes on the prize. That was what his grandfather always said. Keep your eyes on the prize and you’ll get what you need out of the world.

  What did he need? Currently he needed to get to the top of the endless fucking array of stairs. Who the hell ever thought to drop an access tunnel down the full depth of the mines, without power?

  He supposed he should be grateful, but he didn’t really give a damn.

  Willis first had climbed to the eighth level, planning to take a lift from there. Not the main lift, but one of the secondary or tertiary support lifts. It seemed like a good idea at first. It should have worked, too. But the door wouldn’t open. He tried putting his shoulder into it, but all that gave him was a bruised shoulder.

  He realized that he should have expected it. He’d taken the better part of a couple of hours to pry open the door on the bottom level. The shaft was part of the original complex, and even the stairs were falling apart in places. He had to be careful not to fall and break his neck.

  The sixth level was as far as he made it before he had to give up taking the “easy way.” None of the doors were going to open, and he could only pray that the one at the top was going to work.

  He tried calling Rollins, and didn’t get through. That didn’t make sense, since she had given him a comm that was supposed to penetrate any barrier. Yet all he got was silence.

  He’d stopped twice already to succumb to dry heaves because as much as he hated to admit it, a life behind the desk had left him in absolutely craptacular shape. His waist was broader than his shoulders and he counted higher than one when he counted his chins. It was easy to lie about that stuff when he was looking in the mirror every day, especially when he managed to find the occasional partner for his bed, but here and now, walking up a flight of stairs that was taller than a lot of skyscrapers, he was having a little more trouble arguing with the facts.

  Eyes on the prize. When this was done he would be rich. Not well off, not comfortable, but disgustingly rich. He was a company man, and he liked working for Weyland-Yutani. But after this bloody insanity of a mission, he’d be taking early retirement.

  He did, however, promise himself a good long session at a body remodeling facility. Modern science would fix what a bad diet and a desk job had done to him. He’d have the money to guarantee it.

  All he had to do was get to the top of the stairs.

  He almost wept when he reached the door for the second level. Someone had fused the door shut, for what insane reason he couldn’t guess. Maybe to keep the monsters away. He didn’t like that idea at all.

  He took a moment to rest, to catch his breath, and to try to call Rollins with a progress report. Elation ran through him when she answered after only a few moments.

  “I was beginning to worry about you, Mister Willis,” she said. “I haven’t heard from you in a few hours.”

  “I’ve been walking up a lot of stairs,” he said. “I tried to contact you, but the damned comm wouldn’t work.” He didn’t speak the words. He wheezed them. “I’m almost to the top. Do you have a ship on the way down?”

  “No. It’s already waiting for you and the rest of the team.”

  “There may not be a rest of the team.”

  “Several of them seem to be alive and well. We’ll know soon enough.”
r />   “Where are they? Do you know?”

  “Not exactly. They haven’t access to the same communications devices that you do. They’ve been experiencing… technical difficulties.” He nodded his head as if she could see him.

  “Listen, it’s bad down here. I haven’t encountered many of them, but with everything that’s going on, I think sterilization might become a necessity.”

  “We’re already considering that option, Mister Willis.”

  He jerked his head up in surprise. He shouldn’t have been shocked, really. He understood how the company worked well enough. Of course, that just made the data he was carrying all the more valuable. Rollins might have some of the scans, but he had the ones from the dig site, and there was no way she could have gotten the same level of detail that he had.

  No way in hell. He kept telling himself that. With a grunt, he stood back up on watery legs and started up the stairs. One more level. How bad could it be?

  “Mister Willis?” Rollins’s voice actually startled him. He’d thought she had cut the link.

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m still here.”

  “You should be aware that this operation has been very costly to the company.”

  “Oh, yes.” He paused to try catching his breath again. “I imagine it has. But the benefits, Ms. Rollins. They should be dazzling, shouldn’t they? The biomechanical aspects from the ship alone should be worth whatever we’ve spent. If the information can be properly gleaned from the samples…”

  “Do you still have the samples from the ship, Mister Willis?”

  “Of course. They’re in my office. In the safe.”

  “Wonderful. Please make sure you remember to retrieve them before you get to the drop ship.”

  “Oh.” He stopped walking and caught his breath for a moment. “Do you know I would have forgotten them. Thank you for the reminder.”

  “Of course. Have a safe trip, Mister Willis. I look forward to meeting you in person.”

  This time he heard the barely audible click that indicated that the connection had been severed.