by Pamela Fryer
“That stink is horrible!”
“Are you harmed?”
She looked at the palm of her left hand. “It bit me.”
“You cannot become re-infected. You are protected by the vaccination.”
Finally, some good news.
“Jager, the wall!” Another hatchling shimmied out of its egg. He hit it with a pulse, and then turned his weapon back to the red beam and severed the head.
“Where is the girl?”
Brooke looked to the ladder leading up the access pipe. “She ran.”
“Go. I will finish here.”
“Are you sure?” Her heart kicked against her ribs. This case was so close to being closed she could taste it. Merciful Heaven.
“Bring her to my ship. She will need vaccination.”
Brooke leapt to her feet and hurried around the platform to the other side. Sara couldn’t have gone far. Now that Brooke knew what state she was in, she wouldn’t be blindsided so easily.
The nearness of success made her heart sing.
She put one hand on the rung. Two hatchlings flew out of their eggs at the same time, both heading in opposite directions. Jager turned and fired on the one headed for the darkness of the tunnel. A third sprang from its egg and landed on his shoulders. He flung it off and fired at it, but the pulse missed.
If I do not kill the Tetra, the result to your planet will be catastrophic.
He’d be all right, wouldn’t he?
It will lay a clutch of eggs every thirty-six hours that will consist of at least one queen. She, in turn, will lay her own eggs. In one month’s time, all living things on Earth will be overrun.
She couldn’t leave him.
Brooke glanced up the pipe. She could see the daylight, smell the fresh air. Every molecule in her body ached to climb out of this hellacious pit.
She looked over at Jager. He was in over his head. There were at least three more eggs shivering on the wall. Whoever this mysterious other agent was, he or she had not made the expected appearance.
It would be wrong to leave Jager. She didn’t want to leave him.
There was a hatchling heading for the dead end of the tunnel. They were quick, but clumsy and awkward, like newborn foals.
She aimed the Xinotype and waited for it to clear one pole of the pipe railing, and then squeezed the button. It almost seemed the pulse curved like a heat-seeking missile and hit the hatchling dead-on. Brooke ran around the walkway and stomped on the head twice as she had done before, kicking the body away from the head.
Another hatched. She fired, nailing it before it hit the ground.
Jager looked around, surprised.
“Go after them. I’ll stay here and get the last two.”
He nodded and raced off.
Was she insane? It was bad enough being left in the darkness alone, but Sara was up there, running in who-knew-what direction. In her state, she could run out to the highway and step in front of a tractor-trailer.
Brooke tried to wipe those thoughts out of her head. She fumbled with the weapon, turning the light back on. Hadn’t Jager been firing while his light was still lit? What kind of advanced technology would this be if it couldn’t do two things at once? Now, what was it again? Blue and then red?
A shriek grated against her bones. The light blinked on. She aimed. Mandibles opened and a shiny black pup soared out of its egg, directly for her. She fired the pulse. The Tetra bucked before falling still on the brick floor.
One down, two to go. She prayed Jager would return in the next sixty seconds and show her how to change the weapon to slice off the heads neatly. Her shoes were so caked with gore it was hard to stomp neatly on the heads anymore.
All of her clothes were going to be incinerated. She didn’t want to be reminded of Tetras ever again, or God forbid, carry around some weird germ from outer space.
But at the same time, she never wanted to forget Jager. This had certainly been an adventure, and he was the kind of man she wanted to keep in her heart forever.
She didn’t dare mess with the gun to try for the laser beam. The light was on, the pulses were firing. Don’t fuck with a good thing.
The last egg began to shake. She crouched, aimed, and held her breath. The shell cracked and burst open. A beetley-ant head poked out. Mandibles spread.
This sucker was the giant of the clutch, at least twice as big as the others. The shriek it emitted was different too—spooky, in a way. The sound danced down her spine like icy fingers.
She pressed the trigger button. Nothing happened.
Horror leached the warmth right out of her. She hadn’t touched the settings! She squeezed the trigger button again. Still nothing.
“Fuck!”
The Tetra hatchling launched out of the egg and soared straight at her. She clubbed it with the butt of the weapon. Yellow-gray ooze seeped from a small wound behind the head. She’d only pissed it off.
It hit the floor but got up again immediately. This one wasn’t clumsy like the others had been. It skittered forward, that strange proboscis jutting out of its mouth like a snout. Clearly it was hungrier than the rest too. She kicked, sending it flying. Its mandible tore through the side of her hiker like it was made of tissue paper. The Tetra hit the wall and got up again immediately, not even fazed.
She kicked again. It came back even faster. The hatchling she’d only stunned was moving again. Had it been sixty seconds already? She lifted the weapon to try it again and realized she’d broken it when she’d clubbed Bruno.
This time the big hatchling came slowly, as if realizing its littermate was rousing too. Not only bigger, it was obviously smarter. She kicked the semi-conscious Tetra, sending it rolling into the empty equipment cabinet. She would swear the big one’s eyes narrowed in anger.
“You’re the new queen, aren’t you?”
It started forward. She drew her .45. Fired, once, twice, three times. There was something satisfying in the echoing booms that rattled the substation.
By the third shot, there was nothing left of the head.
“You’ve been dethroned, bitch.”
The last Tetra hatchling decided it was better to run away and survive to fight another day. It skittered into the shadows before Brooke could catch it in her sights.
A yellow pulse soared past her, illuminating the area. It hit the last hatchling, knocking it sideways. It was still moving when a second pulse hit it.
She looked over to find Jager on the ladder, balanced with one arm over the railing and a dead Tetra in his other hand.
“Jager, thank God. The Xinotype gave out.”
He hopped over the last railing and tossed the dead hatchling at her feet. Jager grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him. He kissed her hard and fast.
She rose onto her toes to return the kiss. “Mmm. Hunt make man horny?” she said in a cavewoman voice.
“We succeeded because you stayed.”
“I couldn’t leave you. You saved my life. I figured I should return the favor.”
“You saved your planet, Brooke Weaver.”
She hadn’t thought of it that way. She shrugged one shoulder. “It isn’t much, but it’s home.” She settled onto her heels. “Let’s take some heads and get the hell out of here.”
Jager quickly cut the heads off the last three and lined them up with the toe of his boot. “You have a very unique technique,” he said, grinning, when he came across the ones with the smashed heads.
“You didn’t show me how to change the setting to slice them off.”
“There is one missing.”
A surge of panic turned her insides to liquid. “No, it’s there.” She pointed to the gray smear sprayed across the wall. When Jager looked at her, she patted the .45 in its holster. “That is smithereens.”
He laughed, a deep bellyful that made her tingle inside. “I believe I like this smithereens.”
“Someday I’ll teach it to you.”
His smile faded and Brooke reali
zed her blunder. “I guess you’ll be leaving now.”
“We have not yet destroyed the queen. Once we have done so, I will stay to help you rescue your Sara Brown.”
She’d known he would. Even if he hadn’t come out and said so, she knew his honor would prevent him from leaving without helping her.
It seemed like a lifetime ago she’d stood at the compound gates waiting for the FBI to escort out the captured. Now, time seemed to be speeding up, racing toward their separation.
They climbed out of the tunnel and into magnificent fresh air. A layer of overcast put a milky glare on the afternoon.
“It’s going to rain,” Brooke said. She watched the screen as Jager scanned the forest. The indications for the human form and the Tetra were now clear and bright. Thankfully, they were headed in opposite directions.
“Sara Brown has gone that way.” Jager pointed. “The Tetra heads away from the mountains. Logical, given its dislike for colder temperatures.”
“Sounds like we need to split up, then.” A sharp surge of regret dampened her elation. She didn’t want to separate. Somehow, she had a feeling something bad would happen, and she would never see him again.
But she knew they had to. “I can handle Sara on my own. You go after the queen.”
He nodded and withdrew a vial of the antidote from one of his mysterious pockets. “Press this against the forearm, like this.” He showed her the inside of his arm where the network of veins was lightly visible beneath his pale skin.
She took the vial and slipped it into her pocket. “Jager—”
His stance relaxed and he took a step closer.
“You really are my hero.” She managed a weak smile as tears burned her eyes.
She was sure of it now. This was goodbye. “You saved my planet. You saved my life.” She placed her hand over her heart. “But most of all, you saved me.”
She stepped onto her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his lips. He hauled her close and pressed the kiss deeper.
When she stepped back, his eyes were heavy-lidded. She slid her hand down his chest. “Be safe.”
* * * * *
Brooke caught sight of Sara about a half mile away. She was almost indiscernible through the trees in her filthy blue dress, but she crashed through the foliage like a wounded elephant, sobbing and wailing loud enough to wake the dead.
The stitch in Brooke’s side had doubled, knifing through two ribs like a hot poker. But when she saw Sara, running with arms high as she flailed through low tree branches, her spirits soared.
“Sara!” Brooke shouted as loud as her burning lungs would allow. Sara didn’t stop, but she tossed a glance over her shoulder. She stumbled and nearly went sprawling. A pine branch hit her in the face and made her falter. Brooke summoned a burst of energy from her exhausted muscles.
“Sara, stop, please!” She had nearly caught her, but Sara ran like the devil was at her heels. “I’m trying to help you!”
A figure stepped out from behind a giant pine. Sara crashed into him and went halfway down. He yanked her to her feet and spun her around, forearm locked around her throat. He thrust his other arm over her shoulder and aimed a revolver at Brooke.
“Like you helped me, you fuckin’ cunt?”
Brooke stopped short. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Alex Christy.
He narrowed his eyes and smiled evilly. “Nice to see you again, bitch.”
Chapter Fourteen
Could this day get any worse?
“You look surprised to see me. What’s the matter, did you think I would let you ruin my life without thanking you properly?”
She held up her hands. “Let her go, Christy.”
“What, this skanky little piece of white trash? Tell me you’d give a shit if she wasn’t worth thirty grand to you.”
“I would give a shit,” Brooke returned evenly.
“I guess that’s just too fuckin’ bad. Look at it this way, the senator’ll be a shoo-in in the next election after his precious daughter is killed by the PI who was supposed to bring her home. All the sympathetic bleeding-heart tree huggers will vote for him.”
Her heart was trying to kick its way out of her chest. Think, think, think! Where was the damned Tetra when she needed it?
“The girl is innocent. Let her go.” Brooke’s voice shook with stress and exhaustion, making her sound scared. Hell, she was scared.
Sara squirmed and whined in his arms, thrashing like an epileptic. Her infection was in the advanced stages. Brooke prayed she wasn’t too far along to be cured.
Christy jerked her tighter, making Sara gasp for breath. “Not a fuckin’ chance. Drop that weapon.” He nodded toward her holster. “Nice and slow.”
“So you can shoot us both? No way.”
He moved the gun to Sara’s temple. Brooke saw his hand was shaking.
“What’s wrong with her? And what the fuck is this sticky shit all over her? You into something kinky, Weaver?”
“You’re only making your situation worse, Alex. You’re in the clear. Why screw it up now?”
He moved the gun from Sara’s temple only to hold it in an open palm. “Recognize this? It’s your old service revolver. No one will ever know I was here.”
“I will,” a male voice said.
Brooke tensed and dove for the cover of a tree. Alex fired off three wild shots, one chipping the bark off the pine trunk just as she slipped behind it.
She squeezed up behind the tree, as small as she could possibly make herself, and drew her .45.
Richard grinned at her from an identical position behind a nearby tree. “Hey, baby. Need a hand?”
Exhaustion pulled at her sanity. Images flashed through her mind’s eye, confusing the here and now with the past. Darkened streets and shadowy alleyways mixed grotesquely with the gloomy forest and ghostly trees.
“The gig’s up, Christy,” Richard shouted. “You can’t kill all three of us.”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want,” Alex screamed in a maniacally high-pitched voice. “You must have noticed by now, I’m in control here. Throw out your guns or the rich-bitch gets it.”
Sara was growling and shrieking like a wild animal. She was out of her mind with the infection.
Brooke glanced over at her ex. Things had gone from bad to worse. She didn’t trust him as far as she could spit, and right now her mouth was as dry as the Sahara.
“Richard, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I did time with this guy, remember? When you said you’d seen him this morning, I figured he would try something like this. I’ve been following him all day. God, I miss police work.”
“No offense, but I don’t exactly trust you.”
“Right now you don’t have much choice, do you?”
She scowled as she considered her options. There were none. She checked her clip. Three left and one in the chamber. She didn’t like those odds.
Richard sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. “Jesus, where have you been? I can smell you from here.”
“This is a lovely little reunion,” Alex shouted. “But I need to be on my way. Get out here, bitch, or she gets it in the head. Riley, I got no beef with you. Walk away and forget what you saw.”
“Can’t do it, Alex,” Richard called back. “I won’t let you shoot her down in cold blood today any more than I would that night in Portland.”
Brooke frowned. That wasn’t exactly how it went down in Portland, but she wasn’t going to argue it now.
Richard signaled with two fingers. He would round the tree to the outside; she would come around the inside, low.
Great. She got the high-risk move.
She didn’t trust him, but Richard was right. She had no choice.
* * * * *
Sara growled and Alex let out a cry. Brooke dove to the ground between the trees in time to see the dirty cop club Sara with the butt of his pistol. The girl fell, safely out of range, and Brooke and Richard fired almost i
n unison.
Alex caught a bullet in the shoulder and was knocked sideways. He managed to fire off a single wild shot. Richard cried out and fell to the ground.
She jumped to her feet and ran over to Alex. The wound to his shoulder was bleeding bad, but he still tried to reach for his gun.
Adrenaline pumping, Brooke kicked it away. She twisted her ankle and fell on top of him, but managed to bring her arm beneath her to elbow him in the gut. She brought the other arm around and punched him square in the jaw.
“That’s for trying to kill me five years ago!”
He groaned and tried to shove her off. She gave another jab with her elbow, square in the solar plexus.
“Oof!”
“And that’s for trying to kill me today!”
She twisted her body around and delivered another punch to his nose with the other fist.
“And that’s for Sara!”
Richard lay on the ground a few feet away, bellowing like a dying seal. He twisted around and tossed out a pair of handcuffs. “Ah gad! Here, use these!”
She snatched them up and snapped one around Alex’s wrist. She twisted his arm behind his body, urging him to flip himself over by bending his middle finger backward. She snapped the remaining cuff around his other wrist and left him sprawled on the ground like a hog-tied calf.
“Souvenirs?” she asked Richard.
“They reminded me of you,” he said in a broken voice.
Brooke rose, breathing heavy. Her hand hurt, but hitting him had been good for the soul. She took a step toward Richard and flaring pain shot through her ankle. She stumbled and fell, unable to support her weight on her left leg.
“Shit!” She pushed to her hands and knees and crawled over to Richard. “Let me see.” She rolled him over. His eyes flew open and he yelped.
“Ah hell!” He grabbed his upper arm and then looked at his bloodied hand. His eyes rolled back in his head and he gurgled out a groan. “All my years on the force without a scratch, and I get shot when I’m a butcher! Urg, fuck!”