Monstrous

by Thomas E. Sniegoski

  Sidney had returned to the cot and sat next to Doc Martin, stroking Snowy’s fur in an attempt to keep both herself and the dog calm. There was an energy in the air now, and she felt like she wanted to scream. The shepherd was sitting on top of Sidney’s feet and panting, clearly feeling that same crackling vibe.

  Doc Martin pulled a cigarette from the pack in her pocket, placed it in her mouth, and lit up. “Obviously it’s about Boston,” she said as she took her first puff, “and what they’re going to do.”

  “What can they do?” Cody asked from the corner of the tent where he stood with his arms folded defensively. “You heard them—communications are out. There’s no way to reach anybody.”

  “So that’s it?” Rich said. “Boston is toast? My parents are in Newton, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Cody explained. “I was just saying that the team here wouldn’t be able to help anyone there. I’m sure there’s somebody in Boston who could—”

  “Deal with killer animals by the thousands—maybe millions?” Sidney asked, feeling a sudden touch of panic take hold. “Think of what happened here, on this tiny island, and then multiply it.”

  She could see by the expressions on their faces that they were doing precisely what she’d asked.

  “Could be bad,” Doc Martin nodded, puffing thoughtfully on her smoke. “Could be really bad.”

  “But they’ve got a major police force, SWAT, National Guard, and everything else, right?” Rich said. “I’m sure they can handle some psycho pets and a few bugs. . . .”

  His words trailed off, the reality of the situation clearly sinking in. Sidney thought of all they’d encountered during the storm. She remembered the ground literally moving with life—things she never even knew lived on Benediction, the living wave of crazed animals, their right eyes covered with that silvery sheen.

  “Shit,” Rich groaned, and slumped down on the other side of Doc Martin.

  “Can I have one of those?” he asked the veterinarian, gesturing to her cigarette.

  “You don’t smoke.”

  “Nah, but I need something to calm me down.”

  “Take a coupla deep breaths and have a drink of water,” the older woman said. “These things’ll kill ya.”

  Rich looked even more dejected, his shoulders slumping. “The whole time we were running around for our lives last night, I never gave my folks a thought. . . . They were safe back home.” He paused, his eyes filling with tears. “But now . . .”

  Sidney started to get up, to go to her friend, but stopped when Cody crossed the tent to stand before him.

  “You can’t think of the bad shit,” he said. “You’ve got to be strong . . . at least until you know otherwise.”

  Rich looked at him, his face filled with annoyance.

  “Thanks for that, asshole.”

  “Hey, man, Sidney and I already lost our fathers, and Isaac his mother,” Cody snapped. “I just meant there’s no reason to get yourself all worked up until you know something for sure.”

  Rich leaned forward, putting his head in his hands.

  “Not worked up? How is that even friggin’ possible—not get worked up.” He had started to rock back and forth. “My mother is terrified of bugs—any bugs. She once had my father come home from a business trip to kill a spider that had made a web near the living room window.”

  “That’s a little extreme,” Doc Martin said.

  “Ya think?” Rich offered, lifting his head from his hands. “He was in freakin’ Michigan.”

  Isaac had been standing silently by the open tent flap, staring out at the activity of the encampment, survivors of the night wandering around like zombies while scientists and military types rushed about. Sidney saw him raise a hand toward his bad ear—his Steve ear, as he’d called it—and then lower it again.

  “You okay, Isaac?” she asked him, moving to stand next to him, Snowy tight to her side.

  “Yeah,” he said, without looking at her. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  The conversation between Sayid and Langridge was becoming louder.

  “I don’t like it,” Sidney heard the woman say. “Not one little bit.”

  “But it’s a chance we have to take,” Sayid responded. “We cannot risk the possibility of . . .”

  Langridge looked like she was going to hit him but instead spun on her heels and stalked off. Sayid watched her go for a moment, thoughtfully stroking the scruff on his chin, then turned back to the tent.

  “Everything all right?” Sidney asked, stepping back as he entered, not realizing until the words left her mouth how absolutely stupid her question was. No, things weren’t all right. Things were very, very bad, and likely to get worse.

  “Your connection to the invaders,” Sayid began, catching her off guard.

  “Yeah . . . ,” she prompted cautiously.

  “You say you know things.”

  Sidney nodded, feeling that awful, squirming sensation in her brain.

  “Could it . . . could you tell us things?”

  She thought about the question and the things that she had seen inside her mind, things that only the invaders would know, and knew that there had to be more that she could see.

  Even though the thought terrified her.

  “Yeah,” she admitted finally. “I think I could.”

  “You’re a civilian,” he began, his hand again going to his chin, “and I know that I shouldn’t even be considering this, but . . .”

  “This is what’s got Langridge upset, isn’t it?” Sidney said.

  He nodded quickly. “And I completely understand why, but if there’s even the slightest chance that we can prevent what happened here from happening in Boston . . .”

  “What are you asking?”

  “Sid, maybe you shouldn’t,” Cody warned, but she ignored him.

  “What, Dr. Sayid—tell me.”

  “We’re going to attempt to fly into Boston.”

  “And do what?” Cody asked incredulously.

  Sayid shook his head. “We’ve been investigating incidents like what happened here in Benediction all over the world. This is the first chance at a breakthrough we’ve had, and if we can use it to our advantage . . . if we can get to Boston, and take Sidney with us, we might be able to—”

  “No,” Cody interrupted, nearly shouting. “Sidney is not going with you.”

  “Cody,” Sidney said quietly.

  “No, Sid, this is crazy!” His voice continued to rise. “I’ve already lost you as my girlfriend, but I’m not about to let you go off with these clowns and end up like our fathers.”

  Sidney closed her eyes at the mention of their fathers. Both men had sacrificed their lives to save their children and their friends. She knew what she had to do. There was no other choice. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and faced Cody. “I have to do this,” she said firmly, then turned to Dr. Sayid. “What do you need?”

  Sayid was about to answer as Langridge came into the tent. It looked like she was going to say something, but a look from the doctor silenced her.

  “We need whatever information you can give us about these things and what they’re doing,” Sayid said to Sidney. “I know it’s a lot to ask and I know it’s risky, but right now it’s all we have. There’s a chance that you can help save a lot of lives and stop these things. If that happens, it will be completely worth the risk.”

  “What about her life?” Cody interjected.

  “Cody, please,” Sidney said.

  “He’s right, Sid,” Rich piped up.

  “Come on, not you, too!”

  Rich stood up from the cot. “After what we’ve been through together . . .” He shook his head. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

  Sidney looked at Doc Martin, who continued to sit silently on the cot. “Everybody else is offering their two cents. What do you think?”

  The veterinarian looked her square in the eyes, and Sidney braced herself for what was to come. />
  “If I had an opportunity to potentially save thousands of lives, I know what I would do,” she said. “But that’s just me.” She pulled the pack of cigarettes from her pocket again and got up from the cot with a grunt. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna have a smoke outside.”

  They all watched Doc Martin leave, the tension so thick in the tent that Sidney felt she could cut it with a knife.

  “I’ll go,” she said after a moment.

  “If you’re going, then I’m going,” Cody said.

  “Not a chance,” Langridge said. “We’re already risking the life of one civilian, I won’t take responsibility for—”

  “Three,” Rich interrupted, and finished her sentence.

  Langridge glared at Rich as he held up three fingers.

  “This is ridiculous,” she said. “None of you are going. Tell them,” she ordered Sayid.

  “They did pretty well here last night,” he said. “Look at what they survived together.”

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” she said, and Sidney noticed that Langridge’s hand was on her gun again.

  “Well I guess that’s the deal.” Sidney shrugged. “If you want me, you have to take my team.”

  “We’re a team?” Rich asked her.

  “Would you rather ‘posse’?”

  Cody shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  “Posse is good,” Rich agreed.

  “Okay,” Sidney said, looking back to Sayid and Langridge. “We’re all going . . . me and my posse.”

  Snowy whined pitifully, rubbing her large head up against Sidney’s leg.

  Langridge looked at the shepherd with distaste. “I suppose the dog is part of your posse as well,” she said.

  Sidney looked down, scratching the powerful animal behind the ears.

  “We’ve been through a lot, she and I. I wouldn’t dream of being separated from her.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The big man hung limply in the sling above the bed.

  “You ready?” Cherrie asked Delilah. The nurse was standing on one side of the bed, holding the remote control for the Hoyer lift.

  Delilah was opposite her, pulling on the sides of the sling to keep Winston’s body in position over his bed. She nodded, and Cherrie hit the button on the remote control, slowly lowering the hydraulic arm.

  Winston’s mass settled upon the bed, with not a sound from him. “He’s good,” Delilah said proudly. Today’s shower had been relatively easy, but moving Winston was a tiring chore, with or without the bad behavior.

  Together, Delilah and Cherrie unhooked the sling from the metal bar of the hydraulic arm, and Cherrie slid the lift back into the corner of the room. “Let’s get that sling-pad out from underneath him, and we’ll be good,” she said as she returned to her side of the bed.

  They turned him onto his side facing Cherrie, and Delilah rolled the sling, pushing it as far underneath him as she could. “All set,” she said, reaching out to pull him back toward her.

  “Got it,” Cherrie said, as she pulled the green canvas-and-foam sling out from under Winston and hung it on a hook behind the door.

  They positioned him on his back and raised the head of the bed; then Cherrie leaned over to fix Winston’s pillow as Delilah reached down to pull up his sheet and blanket.

  Winston’s arm suddenly shot out to the side and connected with Cherrie’s midsection. The young woman let out a horrible-sounding grunt as she stumbled backward and fell to the floor, narrowly avoiding hitting her head on the wall under the windows.

  “Oh my God,” Delilah said as she threw herself on top of Winston, holding his flailing arm down so that he did not hurt himself. She could hear Cherrie moaning on the floor.

  Winston immediately went still, and Delilah waited just a second to see if he would remain that way before cautiously backing away and rushing around the bed to her friend.

  Cherrie was curled in a tight ball, clutching her side and gasping.

  “Hey, are you all right?” Delilah asked as she knelt down beside her.

  “I think he might’ve cracked a rib,” Cherrie said between gasps.

  “I’ll get Mallory,” Delilah said, standing up.

  “No,” Cherrie said. “Just help me up.” She struggled to sit up and then reached out for Delilah. “On the count of three.”

  Delilah braced herself and hooked her arms under Cherrie’s.

  “One,” they said in unison. “Two.” They began to rock back and forth. “Three,” they yelled, and Delilah rocked back, standing and pulling Cherrie to her feet.

  Cherrie cried out, bending forward and clutching her side.

  “Oh God, he really hurt me,” she gasped.

  “Let me help you to the chair, and then I’m definitely going to get Mallory,” Delilah said, trying to turn the nurse in the direction of the chair by the door. Cherrie didn’t move, and Delilah realized the nurse seemed to be staring at something behind her. She turned and froze.

  Winston’s bed was empty.

  All three hundred pounds of the man who had, until this point, been completely helpless, was standing at the foot of the bed, blocking their way to the door.

  “That’s impossible,” Cherrie said in a fearful whisper.

  “Somebody should tell Winston that,” Delilah said as the wall of a man lumbered toward them.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “So you’re going?” Doc Martin asked her.

  “We all are,” Sidney replied, nodding toward Cody and Rich who stood near them.

  “Taking Snowy girl too?” Doc asked, reaching down to pet the dog, who stood with her side pressed against Sidney’s leg.

  “Yeah,” Sidney said, as she ran her fingertips over the dog’s head. “Can’t bear to be without her since . . .”

  She felt it inside her skull again, writhing around, a foreign presence gradually coming alive.

  But for what purpose exactly?

  She was determined to find out.

  “Are you sure about this?” Doc Martin reached over and affectionately rubbed her arm. The veterinarian was the closest thing to a mother that Sidney had had since her own mom had walked out on her and her dad when she was little.

  “If I can help some people . . .” Sidney responded, although she was more than a little frightened.

  Doc Martin looked carefully at her for a moment as if debating what to say next. Finally, she simply nodded.

  “We’ll fly into Logan, let the proper authorities know what’s going on, and they can take it from there. Easy peasy.” Sidney tried to sound confident but was pretty sure she wasn’t fooling the doc.

  “Easy peasy,” Doc Martin repeated, and smiled weakly.

  “I’ll be fine,” Sidney said, feeling a lump starting to form in her throat. Damn those pesky emotions.

  “I know,” the older woman said. “You’re a tough cookie—always have been.”

  Suddenly Sidney couldn’t help herself and threw her arms around the woman in a powerful hug, squeezing her as hard as she could, just in case she didn’t get another chance.

  Doc Martin hesitated, probably surprised by the unusual show of emotion, but quickly cracked, wrapping her own arms around the girl.

  “You’ll be home before you know it, and Isaac and I will make sure that everything stays fine for you here.”

  “Where is Isaac?” Sidney asked, realizing that he wasn’t with the others as she released her friend.

  Doc Martin looked around. “He said he wasn’t feeling well; maybe he went to lie down.”

  Sidney scanned the camp. “Yeah, maybe he did.”

  “Looks like they’re ready for you,” Doc Martin said, pointing behind her.

  A military-style Humvee had pulled up near Cody and Rich. Langridge had opened the back door and was motioning for them to get in. Sayid was already sitting in the front.

  “Okay then,” Sidney said, starting to back away from Doc Martin. Snowy was right by her side.

  “Be safe,” Doc Martin
said, fumbling in her filthy lab coat pocket and producing her rumpled pack of cigarettes.

  “When I get back we’re gonna work on that nasty habit,” Sidney said, smiling at her friend, and turned toward the Humvee.

  “It’s a deal,” she heard Doc Martin call to her, making her smile and giving her something to look forward to when this business was over and done with.

  * * *

  Isaac was scared.

  The bad radio—it was back.

  He lay on his cot and pulled his knees up tight against his chest, trying to concentrate, to push the awful signal out of his head and back to where it came from.

  Go away, bad radio. Go away.

  His whole body still hurt from what it had gone through the previous night. His body hurt, and so did his heart.

  He missed his mother and the cats—even though they would often mess up his room. What was it Mother used to always say? You only miss something once it’s gone.

  Yeah, he understood that now.

  Sidney was about to be gone too, and that made him sad as well.

  He’d thought about going with them . . . Cody, Snowy, and Rich, but they were going on a plane.

  Isaac had never been on a plane, and he thought that it might be quite scary, so he’d decided to stay right here in the camp where he could maybe help Doc Martin and the other people.

  The bad radio had gone away after Sidney had killed that thing in the cave, and at first Isaac was ecstatic, thinking it was gone for good . . .

  But now it was back.

  It was softer than it had been . . . like a station that wasn’t quite tuned in. But it was definitely there. He’d even tried turning his hearing aids down, remembering his mother yelling at him whenever he touched them. But he could still hear it, and he wished so hard that it would go away. He hated how it made him feel—the way it made him angry, telling him to hurt people.

  No, he told the bad radio. I won’t do that.

  And he tried to be strong as he lay on his side, perfectly still so the bad radio would think he was asleep.

  But it knew he wasn’t.

  And it continued to buzz inside his head, telling him things that he did not want to hear.