by Ben Hammott
Hilleman tore her eyes away from the horrific sight of her infected comrade and nodded at Richard. “From in here and outside.” Realizing its potential for the first time, she focused her hope on the body chute. “We can use it to escape.”
Hilleman moved to the small control panel on its side, and it sprung open with the press of a button, and a soft pressure-released hiss. Keen to be free of the monstrosity she was sure would soon come for her, she detached her clean oxygen hose and went to climb in.
Richard grabbed her arm. “Not so fast. I need your help.”
Hilleman glanced fearfully at her infected colleague that the parasitic plant had dragged in front of the exit; purposely, it seemed to prevent them from escaping. Penfield was in a bad way, but still alive. Concern for her friend nibbled at her fear. She still might be able to save him if she could replicate the serum. “What do you need me to do?”
“We need to put your friend and the alien hybrid to sleep, but no way am I going near it with a syringe. We need a safer way to administer it.”
Hilleman glanced at a rack of canisters against a wall. “We can use the sevoflurane gas to anesthetize it, then we wouldn’t have to get near it. We can pump it into the room.”
“That sounds ideal, but I’m not wearing a suit.”
Feeling braver by the second, Hilleman reached for her oxygen hose and reconnected it to her suit. “You go. I’ll handle it.”
Richard looked at her doubtfully but saw no sign of the frightened woman from a short moment ago. “Are you certain you can do this?”
She glanced at Penfield and was relieved to see no sign of the tentacles she assumed had retracted into his body. “I am. Now go before that thing starts moving again.”
With Boris still clinging to him in his dreamy, drug-infused euphoria, Richard promptly climbed into the chute. Hilleman closed the lid. When it had sealed with a hiss, she opened the outer hatch. The press of another button slid the shelf Richard lay on out into the daylight. After he had climbed off, Hilleman withdrew the shelf and sealed the outer hatch.
A slithering too close for comfort caused her fear to return. She slowly turned her head. The plant was directly behind her. It seemed it had vacated its unresponsive host to infect one more lively. As a tendril tip formed into a thin spike and prepared to stab her, she ducked and moved around it. She tripped in the awkward suit and yanked the air hose free when she fell to the floor. She rolled clumsily away from the tentacles and climbed to her feet. Her hand reached for the sevoflurane gas tap, but the advancing hybrid forced her away. She dodged around Greg’s trolley to escape its clutches and glanced at the door. With Penfield’s unconscious form preventing it from opening, she wouldn’t have enough time to drag him clear before the alien Triffid was upon her. Realizing what her fear was coaxing her to do, she suppressed all thoughts of abandoning her injured colleague.
With renewed vigor, Hilleman faced the creature she was determined to beat and flicked off the trolley brake with her foot. Screaming a war cry to give her bravery for what she was about to do, she grabbed the trolley and swung the far end at the creature. As Greg’s body rolled off and toppled to the floor, she rushed forward.
The hybrid was forced backward when the cart slammed into it. Pushing with all her might, Hilleman trapped it against a cupboard. Keeping pressure on the trolley to keep it pinned, she stretched an arm for the gas tap, but it was just beyond her reach. Ignoring the tentacle that grew and slithered toward her, she edged around the side of the trolley to give her the precious few inches she needed. When the tendril was less than a foot away, her hand gripped the tap and opened it full. Sevoflurane hissed into the room. She glanced at her air hose dangling enticingly too far away to reach, and then at Wendel’s bloodied corpse that his airline was still attached to. She dodged away when something brushed her arm and almost released the pressure trapping her dreadful foe.
Grogginess seeped through her. She had seconds before she succumbed. Desperate to breathe untainted oxygen, she pressed a foot against the end of the trolley to keep the thing trapped and hopped back until she was within arm’s reach of Wendel’s airline. She tugged it free of his suit, but when she went to attach it to hers, drowsiness gripped her, and she fumbled the connection. Her foot slipped from the trolley. The oxygen hose slipped from her unresponsive fingers. Moving creepily on tentacle legs, she watched the freed nightmare approach. The room turned hazy. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed to the floor unconscious.
Looming over her, the hybrid’s untwined some of its tentacles from its stem. Each spread out and formed into spikes ready to skewer the human and feed. Distracted by a noise across the room, the tips pointed at the human threat that had entered.
Colbert pulled open the trailer door and, with his assault rifle held at the ready, entered the laboratory’s airlock. Sweeping his eyes over the bloodied scientist by the door, he focused on the alien hybrid leaning over the female scientists and raised his weapon. As his finger applied pressure to the trigger, the monstrous creature went limp and flopped to the ground. Standing the rifle down, and unable to enter with the gas filling the laboratory of which Richard had informed him, he studied the female scientist lying on the floor. Although difficult to tell for sure with the bulky full bodysuit she wore, he thought he detected the gentle rise and fall of her chest; she was still alive.
Hearing footsteps on the ramp outside, Colbert moved out of the way to let those wearing full protective suits enter to administer aid to the casualties inside.
*
Blightburn let out a sigh of relief when the creature finally succumbed to the gas and watched the medical and cleanup team enter. Each was indistinguishable from each other in their protective blue suits. The airlock doors were overridden with an emergency code to allow both doors to be open at the same time. Penfield was pushed back when they forced the door open against his weight. While one of them cut off the gas and switched on the extractors to clear the fumes, others began carrying out those needing medical attention.
Wendel was dead; that was obvious. He had been an invaluable member of the team who would be sorely missed. Hilleman should recover no worse for wear, except for a few scary nightmares to cause her some restless nights. Penfield and Greg were in a bad way, but if Greg survived, it would prove the plant could be forced to vacate its host. Yes, their exit was a tad gruesome and caused a few injuries, but with a medical team standing by to patch them up, it was better than the alternative. Though tests would need to be carried out, she suspected the adrenaline might have been responsible for the hybrid’s violent reaction to the serum. On their next test, which was already being organized, she would ensure adrenaline was left out of the mix in the hope of less destructive results.
CHAPTER 48
Search for the Missing
Soldiers moved through Devil Falls searching buildings, streets, and garden sheds for the few missing people not yet ticked off the list. Of particular concern, especially to the frantic parents who had discovered they were not on the transport trucks that had evacuated the school, were the six missing children. After a thorough search of the school, soldiers had checked their home addresses.
Lieutenant Gibson, who was in charge of Team Tango, turned to his team, searching the house and garden of one of the missing children. “Anything?”
Wilson shook his head. “No sign of them.”
Gibson consulted his list of the missing marked on a street map of the town. “Let’s move on. The next kid’s address is just around the corner.”
As they started moving along the street, they gazed up at the drone that flew overhead.
Gibson tapped his lapel mic and spoke to Control. “Does the drone have the option to check for heat signatures?”
In the comms room, Blightburn glanced at Yuri controlling the drone for clarification.
Yuri activated his mic to give Gibson his reply. “It has everything. Switching to thermal imaging and sweeping the vicinity. Stand by.”
*
Gibson glanced at the street sign they passed on the corner of an intersection.
“Affirmative.”
“Do you have anyone in the old movie theater approximately one hundred feet on your left?”
Gibson checked the search grid for the routes assigned to the other teams. “Negative. Why?”
“There’s an unknown cluster of heat signatures in the movie theater that might be the missing kids.”
“Understood. We’re heading there now.”
*****
Making his way back to the main street from the school, private Lopez rounded a street corner to be confronted by a German Shepherd walking toward him. On spotting him, the dog sat and raised a paw.
Having been warned of the contagious nature of the Xtros, Lopez studied the dog and held his weapon at the ready as he walked closer. A dog lover, he had two at home, he wasn’t about to shoot an innocent animal. He stopped two paces away and gave it the once over. Finding no splotches of blood to hint that it was infested, he relaxed and walked up to the German Shepherd.
“Hi fella, you want me to shake your paw?”
The dog barked in a friendly manner.
Lopez shook the offered paw. The dog licked his hand. “You seem friendly enough.” He scratched under the dog’s chin and examined the tag hanging from its collar. “So, your name is Dingo.”
The dog barked at the sound of his name.
Noticing the short length of frayed leash hanging from its collar, Lopez went on alert and aiming the rifle at Dingo, cautiously checked the back of the dog’s neck. Relieved to find no cut, he again relaxed.
“I suppose you had better come with me so we can find your owner or put you somewhere safe.” He stroked the dog’s head. “Wandering the streets will likely get you shot with all the nervous trigger fingers around at the moment.”
He walked off and whistled for Dingo to follow.
Dingo duly obeyed and fell into step beside Lopez.
After a few steps, something moved beneath Dingo’s fur. The bulge moved along beside its spine and halted at the back of its neck. Dingo felt no pain when a tentacle cut through his skin, and the Xtro crawled out. Seeing its new world for the first time, the Xtro looked up at the sky and enjoyed the breeze rippling the hairs over its body. It turned and noticing the potential host beside it, puffed up its body.
*****
Accompanied by Chuck Adams, one of INSECT’s cleanup specialists, Second-Lieutenant Terry Addison, in charge of Team Zulu and armed with a tranquilizer rifle, followed the four soldiers moving through Devil Falls searching for Xtros. When they turned into another street, they noticed a soldier accompanied by a German Shepherd walking toward them on the opposite side of the road.
Recognizing the man, Private Mat Hanson called out to him. “Hey, Lopez. You seen any aliens back that way?”
Studying the soldiers, Lopez crossed the street. “Nah! All clear.” He glanced at the tranquilizer rifle Lieutenant Addison held. “What’s that for?”
“To put to sleep anyone infected so we don’t have to kill them,” replied Addison. “As serious as this threat is, killing civilians is the last resort.”
“Where did you get the dog?” asked Private Miller, stroking Dingo’s head.
Lopez nodded back along the street. “A couple of streets away. I checked him over, and he’s not infected. Well, can’t stand here chatting all day; I need to get back to my squad. Good luck on your search.” He walked away.
Team Zulu continued in the opposite direction.
As soon as Team Zulu was out of sight, Lopez and Dingo halted. The Xtros emerged from their necks, scampered back along the street, and headed for the six unsuspecting humans.
Chapter 49
The Children
When Team Tango arrived at the main entrance of the movie theater, they noticed the splintered frame caused when the door had been forced open. As the source of the heat signatures within were unknown, they cautiously entered with their senses alert, and their weapons held ready.
Switching on their helmet lights, the six beams sweeping around the musty, gloom-ridden foyer, highlighted faded movie posters advertising forthcoming attractions long out of date, and the last movie to be shown in the single-screen theater. Stale popcorn littering the worn carpet was crushed underfoot when they moved past the concession counter. They paused while Finnigan and Kline checked the restrooms were empty before moving to the theater door and passing through.
The sloping floor led to the movie screen, and a raised stage where theater plays, pantomimes, and bands once entertained the townsfolk. Splitting up left and right, they headed down the two aisles set between the three blocks of seating.
When Lieutenant Gibson’s light picked out someone on the stage, he raised a fist to halt his team. Their handlamp beams focused on the six-year-old girl sitting in the middle of the stage. Cute as a button, large brown eyes and chestnut hair down to her shoulders, she sat there stroking her teddy bear rucksack.
When their roaming lights searched the stage and picked out no sign of anyone else, the soldiers cautiously climbed the steps onto the stage; they had been warned anyone might be infected, and that included children. They circled the girl with their weapons pointed at her, which included a flame thrower held by Foley.
As if noticing them for the first time, Emily stopped stroking her teddy bag and looked up. “Hello,” her voice soft and innocent. “Are you going to kill me?”
Lieutenant Gibson cautiously reached a hand to the collar of the girl’s school dress and pulled it down. He yanked his hand away when he saw the cut on her neck and aimed his assault rifle at the back of her head. “She’s infected!”
“Lieutenant!” uttered Kline. “I’ve got a daughter the same age.”
Gibson could sympathize with the man’s dilemma; he had a son and daughter a little older.
Blightburn’s voice crackled over the radio. “Keep her there. A team is on the way to tranquilize her.”
“You should run,” Emily warned, stroking her teddy bag’s head.
The soldiers backed away when a small white Xtro crawled from her neck. Lengthening the filaments to keep it attached and in control of its diminutive host, it climbed onto her head and gazed around at the threatening humans.
“What do we do Control?” asked Gibson; if there was ever a time when he needed clarity, now was it.
*
In the control trailer, Blightburn stared at the creature that had control of the small girl. “The white Xtro is new. I wonder what the change of color means?”
“Who the hell cares what color it is? You have to destroy her, it,” said Colonel Jennet. “If you don’t, there’s a chance they will all become infected. Then you will have six more to contend with.”
“But it’s a child,” argued Blightburn, staring at the adorable face of the little girl. “We can save her.”
“But at what cost?” prompted Colonel Jennet.
Aware the colonel was right, Blightburn pushed her maternal feelings aside and gave the soldiers their orders.
*
“If the alien puffs up, destroy it, or you’ll all be infected.”
“We can’t, we’ll also kill the girl,” argued Finnegan.
“You will all do as you’re damn well ordered or face the consequences, both from it and me,” warned the colonel.
“It’s alright for him, he’s not here pulling the trigger,” moaned Spenser. “If I do, her cute little face is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.”
The Xtro puffed up and extended its hair spikes.
“Do it! Shoot and burn!
” yelled Colonel Jennet over the radio. “She’s not a girl, she’s a monster.”
Committed to their terrible course of action, Gibson nodded at the soldier with the flame thrower. “Do it!”
Foley aimed the flamethrower at the alien and the girl.
The Xtro held off firing its infecting spikes when the flamethrower was directed at it and prompted its small host to speak.
Emily looked into the eyes of the man with the flamethrower. “Will it hurt?”
Indecisive, Foley rested his finger lightly on the trigger, his thoughts picturing the flesh being burnt from the cute girl’s face.
“Do it, soldier! That’s an order, or you’ll be court-martialed,” warned Colonel Jennet.
“Damn!” cursed Foley as he stared into the innocent brown eyes looking at him and squeezed the trigger. Sensing what was coming and imperative it saved its host, the Xtro retreated inside the girl.
Emily focused on the sound and smell of the inflammable fuel being forced along the barrel. The pilot flame flickered expectantly to set it alight. When fuel and fire met, she reacted. In a blur of movement, she was up on her feet and pushing the weapon to the side, bathing Kline and Simpson in liquid fire. Their pain-wracked screams filled the empty emporium.
Realizing their error in mistaking the girl as still being human, the Lieutenant and the remaining three privates fired at her. Emily sprung into the air and somersaulted as their bullets splintered the boards. She landed with her legs around Finnegan’s shoulders. Her fingernails extended into small pointed knives that stabbed furiously at his eyes. Screaming in agony and staggering back, Finnegan’s finger tensed on the trigger.