“Rope!” Mike yelled to Jenn. She ran to Mike’s backpack, finding the rope on the top this time, next to his bow kit.
“Stephen, when we get the rope around you, get out of your shoes,” Mike said, kneeling a few feet away from the boy. The surge of adrenalin cleared his head and he spoke with calm urgency.
Stephen nodded, looking at the ground below him. His face was pale. “I think that’s going to be another problem,” he said softly. He nodded toward the blacktop. “It has my feet.”
“What do you mean?” Mike asked. “It’s got your shoes, Stephen. Come on, step out of them, man.”
Stephen shook his head and looked up at Mike, raw fear in his eyes. “I’ve tried,” he said softly. “It’s like they’re stuck. Like it’s sucked inside my shoes already and my feet are superglued to the ground, shoes and all.”
Jenn arrived with the rope, panting hard. Mike looked at it for a moment. There were no trees, no telephone poles, nothing to wrap the rope around for leverage. Stephen smiled wanly, meeting Mike’s eyes, and then more briefly, Kari’s and Jenn’s. He looked back to Mike and nodded slightly.
Mike stood and backed up a step. His face was paler than Kari had ever seen, almost vampiric. His eyes were lucid, though shiny with pain and fever. He was guarding his left arm, cradling it as though it were in a sling.
His face was empty when he looked at Kari. “I need you to take the children ahead, please,” Mike said quietly. “You can wait for me at the bottom of the off-ramp.”
Kari blinked back tears, furious with herself for the weakness. “That’s stupid, Mike,” she countered hotly. “We’re only an hour out, and you’re sick – separating now is not an option!”
Mike looked at her for a long moment. “Really?” he asked flatly, and then nodded to the group of children who remained a short distance away, huddled in a somber group. “You want them to watch me do this?”
Kari blanched, looking at Stephen, who was now ankle-deep in the monster. She met Mike’s eyes again and swallowed. “I can run to the post and get help,” Kari said softly. “You can watch the kids, and I can run all the way there, Mike, and bring back emergency workers.”
Mike studied Kari thoughtfully, and then looked back at Stephen. “It took the thing less than fifteen minutes to drop Nathan to his waist, Kari. That’s when he told me that it was burning him … his legs and stomach.” Mike swallowed. “I figure the acid took a while to eat through his jeans, but the … beast didn’t have any trouble at all getting through his open jacket and t-shirt. Nathan …” Mike blinked quickly, his eyes bright with tears he wouldn’t free. “Nathan was in a lot of pain, Kari. He was literally being … digested alive. Twenty minutes, maybe thirty for Stephen, if we get extra layers of clothes on him. Can you do it? Get there, and get someone to come back in that time?”
Kari looked away for several seconds, her mind racing desperately. She could run to the base in fifteen minutes, but then she would have to convince the security personnel of the legitimacy of her emergency. They would pass it up the chain of command until someone with enough authority could send heavy equipment and medical personnel. Things would move more quickly if her father were alive, but Kari knew those odds were slim. She looked at Stephen, her heart sinking as the boy dropped another few inches to his calves. “It would be longer than that before they got someone here,” she admitted quietly. “Probably closer to an hour?”
Mike nodded grimly. “We’ll go tell Stephen, and he makes the call. And Kari?”
She turned to him.
“If you run, the same thing could happen to you. We need to check every footstep, as though we’re looking for a landmine. It looks like these bastards don’t need to be in the earth to camouflage.”
Kari met his eyes and nodded, quickly turning and finding Jenn, and motioning for her to take care of the children while she and Mike talked to Stephen. The kids were already drawn into a tight circle to stay warm and draw comfort from each other. Jenn’s face was tear-streaked and hollow as she nodded at the instruction; she already anticipated the heartbreaking conclusion.
Mike and Kari walked over to Stephen, Kari stopping where the ground started quivering and Mike stepping closer so he could speak softly. He didn’t even react when the ground solidified under his feet. “Kari can run to Fort Knox,” Mike told Stephen quietly. “She can bring back help, but she figures it will take an hour, maybe a bit more, maybe a bit less. It’s your decision, Stephen. You tell us what you want us to do.”
Stephen looked at Mike for a long moment, then Kari. He looked back at the overpass they crossed before stopping for the lunch break. His eyes scanned the distant tree line, the black ribbon of highway cutting through the pristine white snow, and Kari bit back a sob. She already knew what the boy would answer.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Stephen finally said, addressing them both but looking mostly at Mike. “I watched all the things you tried with Nathan, and I know you tried more when we went back to the road. I was wondering what the soldiers on Fort Knox could try. Maybe amputation? Maybe hand grenades or gas. But every way I looked at it, I end up dead, or worse than dead, whether from this … Feeder or from friendly fire.” His voice was calm. Adult. Resigned.
Mike swallowed, saying nothing.
“If I’m gonna die, I need to do it and get it over with, so you and Kari can get the kids out, Iron Mike.”
The Feeder sucked as if in agreement, and Stephen sank up to his knees.
Mike looked at Kari, his eyes wet with despair. “Please take them, Kari?” It was a request, not an order. Kari nodded once, looking at Stephen. She walked onto the Feeder, shuddering in disgust as the ground solidified beneath her and bent down next to the boy. She kissed him gently, turned, and walked away, finally letting the sob out of her throat.
Mike knelt on one knee putting him at Stephen’s eye level. “I’ll do it when they’re down the ramp,” he told the boy.
Stephen nodded.
Nathan’s screams and sobs were agonizing, but this … this was exponentially worse. There was a resignation in the boy’s eyes, an expression so much older than his ten years should allow. They sat together, waiting in silence, for several minutes while Mike watched the procession’s slow progress down the ramp. The Feeder sucked again and Stephen sank to his thighs. He bit his lip to keep from crying out in fear.
Mike adjusted his position, sitting on the ground beside Stephen. His head throbbed and his vision was blurring.
“You don’t look so good,” Stephen said, trying for a light tone.
Mike smiled, but it faded quickly. “You don’t look so hot yourself, buddy.”
Stephen grinned. “I’ve been in better situations, that’s for sure.”
Mike felt a deep pang of guilt. Stephen was working to cheer him up. “You doin’ okay?” he asked, checking Kari and the group of children again.
Stephen nodded. “It’s really warm, but not burning yet.”
“You’ve been a big help,” Mike told the boy, his voice choked. “I don’t think we would have made it if you didn't carry Kayli for so long.”
Stephen smiled proudly. “She’s a chunk,” he said amiably. “And Nathan was right – she is a spoiled brat.”
They chuckled together, and Mike was no longer able to see the procession of children. If they looked up the ramp toward him, the sun would be in their eyes. He stood, tears finally flowing and burning down his face. He walked over to his backpack and pulled out his takedown kit. He assembled the bow carefully, his back to Stephen, and returned to the boy, squatting down. Stephen looked at him calmly, the fear showing only in his eyes.
“Sweet bow,” he said, admiring the weapon that would kill him.
Mike swallowed. “What’s your name, Stephen?” he asked, his voice thick. “Your full name.”
The boy smiled. “Stephen Hawking Sharpe. My dad’s a geek.”
“Stephen Hawking Sharpe.” Mike nodded solemnly. “I won’t forget it,” he promised.
He nocked the bow and stood, hesitating a moment. He drew back quickly and released the arrow, dropping the precious bow as he fell to his knees, sobbing outright. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
He never noticed the small black orb floating in the air above him. The Spotter stayed there, immobile, for as long as Mike wept.
Mike knew he was letting too much time pass. His feet were numb from kneeling beside Stephen’s body. He was shaking with sobs and with fever. It would be so much easier to stay here and grieve the boy he had come to respect than it would be to move. Hypothermia wasn’t far away.
He considered it seriously for a moment, and then he tried to stand up. His legs wouldn’t hold him and he collapsed onto his hands and knees. The … Feeder took Stephen up to his chin, and all Mike could see was the top of the boy’s face, his eyes staring open. The last expression the boy wore was … resolve? Mike tried to stand again, and was able to make it to his feet. This time, he felt the angry pins and needles and was annoyed with himself for kneeling in the same position for so long. He stood unmoving, swaying slightly for a long moment, remembering the expression on Jenn’s face when she called him Iron Mike. It was a brat move, of course, but there was something else in her eyes he never imagined he would see: respect. Not a facade of respect so Mom or Dad wouldn’t rip on her, but the real thing…genuine respect. He never thought he’d live to see that day.
Mike stood up straighter, determination fueling him. Jenn needed him. It was time to man up. He winced as the circulation returned to his legs with intensity, and he marched in place for a minute more to ensure his legs would function without dropping him on his ass. Mike heard a final sucking noise and Stephen was gone. He didn’t turn to look.
He got his backpack on as quickly as he could … which wasn’t so quick. Standing, moving again, his head swam and throbbed as he shook miserably with the chills. He hadn’t pissed since the morning before, and hadn’t eaten for … awhile. He couldn’t remember. The thought of food cramped Mike’s stomach, the nausea overwhelming him. He put his hands on his knees and dry heaved onto the blacktop, nothing coming up but yellow bile. Then, the backpack finally adjusted and snapped in front, Mike set off down the ramp, his eyes fixed on the road in front of him. It wasn’t long before putting one step in front of the other became the entire focus of his world
He didn’t know how much time passed, how long he walked. There were people in front of him, and he thought he should know them. Oh, yeah. The hot chick who deferred to his leadership but whose lips tightened every single time. She was an explosion waiting for a place to happen. He liked her. He knew she was important, but for just now, he couldn’t remember why.
“Welcome back, Mike,” she said softly. Her voice clanged inside his skull. He nodded at her and looked at the children. Kari – that was her name – carried the girl with pink Dora the Explorer sandals on her shoulders, and Jenn was holding Anthony. Another girl … a cute young black girl with neat pigtails … was carrying Ariel, but the pigtails girl – Sasha – was clearly exhausted. Mike took Ariel from her shoulders, gritting his teeth as he lifted the little girl over his head, almost entirely using his right arm.
“Can you lead, Kari?” Mike asked. His voice was raw.
“Of course,” Kari agreed. “Remember guys, it’s follow-the-leader. You have to step where I step, right?”
The children’s response to the game was unenthusiastic. They didn’t know why Kari insisted on a game of follow-the-leader when they were all so hungry and tired. Mike didn’t know why she would do that, either, but he brought up the rear, thinking about it as he walked. He stopped thinking about it after a few seconds. He stopped thinking about anything other than moving, just putting one foot in front of the other. He knew he would put one foot in front of the other until he dropped. And when he dropped, he would die. He could live with that.
They marched for hours … or months. He didn’t know anymore. The pain in his head was intense, worse than any headache he’d ever had. He wanted to call out to Kari, to ask her for more ibuprofen, but she was too far ahead of him, and it was too much effort.
Sometime later, the line of children stopped. Mike stopped with them, watching dully as Kari ran back to him. “It’s the first tank – we’re almost here!” she told him. “The gate is about five hundred yards.”
Mike looked up at the tank and the unfocussed words beneath it. He blinked, trying to read them. “Strength starts here,” he mumbled. Mike lowered his head again to watch his feet as the group moved out.
It wasn’t too long after that they came up to guarded booths. Mike looked up. He, Kari, and the children were surrounded by soldiers with machine guns aimed at them. Off to the side, a large brick sign proclaimed, “Welcome to Fort Knox.” Mike dropped onto the asphalt, sitting rather than falling more by accident than design. He pulled Ariel off his shoulders and held her in his lap, his arms wrapped around her while he shivered. He heard the man’s voice as though it echoed down a long tunnel in his brain.
“This facility is closed down, folks. We’re on lockdown in response to the national emergency. You need to clear this area immediately.”
Mike looked up at the soldier who spoke. There were three of them blurring together in his vision, and he wasn’t sure which one was real. “You’re gonna have to shoot me,” he said, matter-of-factly, his words slurred.
“Sergeant -” Kari interrupted, her voice firm. “I’m going to reach into my pocket and bring out my I.D. card.”
“Ma’am, don’t bother,” the soldier replied with equal firmness. “The post is closed.”
Kari frowned, the shift in her body language indicating she was no longer playing nice. “Did Colonel Kasoniak survive the attack?” she asked. The sergeant’s quick glance to one of his men answered her question.
“That information is class –”
Kari leaned forward a bit to be able to read the man’s identity. “Sergeant Richardson, if you value your stripes, you will get a message to Col. Kasoniak, and do so immediately. You will tell him that his daughter, Karissinna Michelle Kasoniak, is waiting at the Brandenburg gate with a desperately wounded man and nine very cold, very hungry children, and that we are being denied entrance to this facility.” Kari’s eyes hardened to chocolate ice. “I am sure you’ll be given new orders at that point.”
The man wasn’t stupid, for all his obstinacy. He had blanched at the word “daughter” and hadn’t recovered since. He nodded sharply to a PFC. “Double time, Jenkins, report to the colonel!” he barked, and the soldier took off running toward a jeep.
Kari stood beside Mike, whose head lolled onto her thigh. “The kids are cold and hungry, Sergeant,” she said. Her voice no longer held that authoritative coldness, just a bone-deep weariness.
The sergeant looked at two of his soldiers who had stood down. “Get the children into the guard station,” he said quickly. “Denison, get ambulance transport and get this man to Ireland.”
The soldiers moved out to obey orders, but when they tried to take Ariel from Mike, the girl clung to his neck tightly and began screaming. Mike tightened his hold. “I’ll keep her safe,” he slurred. Then he lost consciousness.
Scientist-Farmer
Scientist-Farmer stared for a long time at the symbols on the communication. A Mother was dead, killed by the indigenous species of the planet they were harvesting! It was unprecedented, and the Council was in an uproar. It was the equivalent of a zarok taking on and defeating an ult … or, in terms native to the world they now occupied, an ant defeating an elephant. It simply wasn’t possible for a Mother to be killed – and yet she and her fifty-some unborn offspring were indeed very dead. He looked at the communication again, although each of his seven brains already had the contents memorized. The Council wanted him to give them an explanation. How had the zarok defeated the ult? Scientist-Farmer suspected he knew the answer; he also suspected the Council wouldn’t like it one bit.
Scientist-Farmer knew the requirements for Cl
assification Eight sapience as well as he knew his own designation. There was no need to have the image of the requirements placed motionlessly –accusingly – behind the images the Spotter played for him. He did not remove the background image.
Self-awareness. Sentience. Communication. Abstract reasoning. Emotion. Emotional detachment as needed to act for the common good. Empathy. Protection of other sentient beings. Defined social structure. Altering the environment to suit its needs. Tenacity of spirit and the will to live. The ability to hope. The ability to regret. The ability to grieve. Free will. Understanding of right and wrong. Moral guidelines. The capability of self-sacrifice.
Scientist-Farmer shifted, uncomfortable in the corporeal form but unwilling to shed it for the moment. Human-Male demonstrated eighteen of the requisite thirty-six indicia … and this was after merely two days of subjective observation! Scientist-Farmer had not brought Human-Male, or any of the humans, aboard the ship to study in the laboratory. He was so certain of the Consortium’s results – they had studied the planet for millennia, after all. Their reports clearly described a barbaric, aggressive race of simple beasts. The garden planet was inhabited by simple animals that waged war on each other in territorial fights, that could not reason, that had only the basest, most unsophisticated understanding of tools, that were able to communicate only in crude, primitive sounds and gestures.
Scientist-Farmer frowned at the symbols and images the Spotter displayed, narrowing the multiple feeds to one. Human-Male collapsed, yet the youngling still clung to him. The other humans, obviously stronger and healthier than Human-Male, attempted to take the youngling from his arms. Human-Male gripped her tightly and made sounds. The sounds translated to “I will protect this youngling.”
Human-Male was dying … from the injury Scientist-Farmer inflicted. Yet, with his last breath, he was defending his kit from a perceived threat.
Iron Mike Page 11
