V: The Florida Project

by Tim Sullivan

  He walked out. Just as the door was closing, Sabrina heard the same terrible scream she had heard a day or two before.

  She shrank back into her cell, wanting to cry but refusing to permit herself to show any emotion. They were watching, but they would see no sign of weakness in her.

  Chapter 17

  The coffee was perking in Chief Martin Wooster's humble office. Marie Whitley had joined them there at the chief's request, and she was clearly distraught.

  "Sheriff Devereaux was trying to help, and now he's gone too," she said. "What can be causing this?"

  "Something most people would like to believe is a thing of the past," Ham said.

  "I don't understand," Marie said.

  "Well, it's the same way people talk about Nazis nowadays, like they were some aberration in the past that can never return. But they weren't," Ham explained. "They were people like you and me who got caught up in something bigger than they were. Maybe a lot of them sensed it was wrong, but it was powerful and they were just ordinary people. What could they do but go along with it?"

  "I still don't understand."

  "What I'm trying to say is that the Visitors are still here."

  "The Visitors? I thought—"

  "You thought they were all gone. But they're not gone. At least not all of them. Some of them are hiding right here in the Everglades."

  "How do you know this?" Chief Wooster asked.

  "Just between you and me and the coffeepot, Chief, I've been involved in a lot of intelligence operations. Chris and I have both ferreted out a lot of espionage agents. This thing has got a smell about it. Somebody very powerful is behind these disappearances, somebody not of this earth."

  "But what makes you so sure?"

  "Who could it be besides the Visitors? Cubans? Russians? It's not the way they operate."

  "Suppose you're right," Marie said. "We still don't understand why they're kidnapping people—"she turned grim—"or killing them."

  "My guess is," Ham said as he poured himself a cup of coffee, "that they need people for some kind of labor. Some of the work they're doing is very specialized. Biological. We must assume that they've already developed an antitoxin."

  "Granted, if they're still here," Martin said.

  "If they've got that under their belts, they're free to develop their own strain of bacteria that would be harmless to them but which could kill humans."

  "Thus reversing our roles," Marie murmured.

  "And that's only one of many possibilities. Don't forget, these lizards are centuries ahead of us in most respects. They can travel from Sirius to Earth, develop a cure for cancer, create a human disguise so good that we can't detect it—and they've succeeded in mating one of their species with one of ours."

  "The star child, Elizabeth," Marie said, wonder in her voice.

  "Then, you don't believe the Visitors have given up on their plans of world conquest, Mr. Tyler?" Chief Wooster asked.

  "No, of course I don't. They need the water—and the food."

  Marie shuddered, thinking of what they might have done to Billy by now.

  "What can we do, Mr. Tyler?" she asked.

  "You can help us fight them," Ham said, "or you can sit back and let them take over the way so many did in Europe back in the thirties."

  "I'll help you."

  "Now, just a minute, Marie," Chief Wooster said. "You don't know that these men are right. You don't even know that they're who they say they are."

  "I don't care," Marie said defiantly. "I want Billy back, and these men are the only ones who have given me any hope so far. Everyone around here would rather pretend nothing's happened."

  "Nobody's pretending, Marie. It's just that we prefer to deal with problems ourselves, rather than having CIA men come in and tell us what to do."

  "Is it better to have half the tribe disappear than to let these men help?" Marie asked. "Pride can only go so far, and then you have to start being practical."

  "A lot of people suspect the government may be behind our problems," Martin said. "Just as they have been so many times in the past."

  "Why would they kidnap people out here?" Ham interjected.

  "Why would you, you mean," the chief said, shooting Ham an angry look. "You are the government, Mr. Tyler. How can we trust you after all that's happened? How do we really know you're here to help us?"

  "They're not here to help," a voice said from the doorway. They all turned to see John Tiger enter the cramped office.

  "What do you mean?" the chief asked.

  "They're here because they need our help."

  The chief and Marie stared at Ham and Chris.

  "What are you trying to say?" Ham asked after an awkward few seconds of silence.

  "I heard some things in the swamp today. Shots and other noises. After things quieted down, I went out where all the commotion had come from. I found an upended canoe—and a paddle that was divided in two pieces."

  "Broken?"

  "No—burned in two."

  Chris whistled.

  "They got 'em, all right," Ham said. "Just like they got Billy Tiger, Walter Miles, and all the others."

  "So that just leaves the two of you, doesn't it?" John observed. "And the two of you may be tough, but you can't go up against them all alone."

  "You want us to beg?" Ham asked. "Is that it?"

  "I don't want you to do anything except go back to Miami or Washington or wherever it is you came from and leave us alone."

  "Are you crazy? You know what's going on out here. How can you just turn your back on it?"

  "I'll fight them in my own way, with my own people. What do you say, Martin."

  The chief ran a weathered hand through his snow-white shock of hair. "I guess that's the way I feel about it too, Johnny."

  Marie stood and faced John Tiger, fire in her eyes. "He's your brother!" she shouted at him. "These men can help us, and you let your pride stand in the way."

  "Do you know what people like them do to our brothers and sisters in Central America?" John said from between clenched teeth. "They'll use us and throw us away if it suits them, because they don't even think we're human."

  With that, he stormed out of the office. They heard his boots echoing in the hallway until he was gone from the building.

  Marie turned to Ham and Chris. "I don't care. I'll help you."

  "Thanks," he replied. "We're gonna need it, just like he said." Ham turned to Chief Martin Wooster. "How about you, Chief?"

  The chief took a sip of coffee, made a sour face, and said, "John's a little hot under the collar. His father was the same way. Still, he did say some things that are true."

  "Does this mean you're not with us?" Ham asked.

  "I'm with you," he said. "At least for the time being, but I can't guarantee how the rest of the tribe will feel about this."

  "You'll talk to them, then?"

  "I'll talk to them." The chief poured them all another cup of coffee.

  Chapter 18

  "It isn't much of a plan," Jack said, "but it's the only one we've got."

  T.J. nodded. Ever since they had awakened in this double cell, they had been noting every detail of their captors' behavior. When their jailer brought in food, they had decided, was their best chance to get out. Once they overpowered him and got outside the door, they would have no idea where they were, but at least they would be free and fighting back.

  They had been strangely lethargic during the first few hours of consciousness, a state they attributed to the device that had been trained on them in the swamp. They had only regained their senses fully in the past few hours. Neither of them had any idea of how much time had passed since their capture, but they agreed that it was probably more than twenty-four hours.

  "I know Sabrina's here," Jack said, stretching his muscles. "If—when—we get out that door, I'm going to find her."

  T.J. nodded. "We'll see what we can do about that, but let's just see about getting out of this mousetrap first.
"

  T.J. scoured the cell for something heavy to use as a weapon. The objects available were solid and durable, but as light as balsa wood. The table they ate from looked as if it would weigh at least twenty pounds, but it was as light as a feather. T.J. scowled in disgust.

  "I guess they know us well enough to realize we'd use this stuff against them," he said. "So they gave us stuff that couldn't hurt a fly."

  "They forgot about these," Jack said, holding out his hands.

  "I was pretty good with my fists at one time," T.J. said, "but it's been awhile."

  As T.J. flexed his sausage fingers, the door slid open. A Visitor, wearing no makeup, stood on the threshold with a tray of food. Jack and T.J. tried to pretend disinterest, as they had planned. It worked. The Visitor entered without hesitation as soon as he had pocketed his crystal key.

  Jack let him walk a little bit past him, then he leaped over a chair and punched him at the base of his horny head.

  The alien's forked tongue shot out of his mouth, then he groaned and sagged to the floor. Jack bent over the fallen Visitor as T.J. rushed to the door.

  "What are you doin', Jack?" he said. "Come on."

  "Just a second, T.J." Jack searched the Visitor's body, sidestepping the viscous blobs of blue-green food on the floor. He felt something in a pocket that was smooth and hard edged. "I've got it," he said, pulling the crystal key out and holding it up. He picked up the food tray and stood up.

  "If you don't hurry it up," T.J. said, "we'll both get it ... right between the eyes."

  They were off and running. T.J. moved fast for a man of his size. They sprinted down a corridor, turning a corner. A Visitor was walking right toward them. For a moment he just stopped and stared, his yellow eyes intent on them. Then he pulled his laser pistol and took aim.

  Jack jumped in front of T.J. Holding the tray in front of him, he crouched and rushed headlong at the alien. The plastic tray sizzled and a half-inch-wide hole opened near its center, emitting a blue energy bolt that narrowly missed Jack's head. A second shot burned a corner of the tray, and a third made a U-shaped hole in its bottom. Jack danced back and forth in the corridor like a broken-field runner chased by the entire Green Bay defense.

  He held little more than a saucer-sized, dripping blob of melting plastic by the time he was close enough to strike.

  The alien was about to fire the shot that would finally bring Jack down when Jack let out a bloodcurdling scream and pitched the smoking plastic at him like a baseball.

  It hit the Visitor in the shoulder, some of the burning plastic clinging to his crimson uniform. He hissed and tried to brush it away. Afraid to burn his claw, he flailed away at it with the barrel of his pistol.

  Jack was on him then. He lashed out with his right hand, feeling the leathery flesh and the resisting reptilian jaw beneath it. The Visitor was knocked off his feet, landing on the corridor floor shoulders first.

  "Good night," Jack said, taking the laser pistol from the unconscious creature.

  T.J. was right behind him. "Better keep moving, Jack," he said. He glanced down at the alien. "Nice punch."

  "Thanks."

  They started running again, turning another corner without seeing anyone, and then another. As they moved along through the third such passageway, Jack noticed that the light was dimming. He remembered that the Visitors didn't see well in bright light. This could be one of their work areas. He held up a hand for T.J. to stop, and he peered around a corner, through a latticework bulkhead.

  He saw a Visitor working a beam like the one they had used on him and T.J. But he wasn't using it on a human. He was putting an alligator to sleep with it. A big alligator, maybe fifteen feet long. It was in a tank, and behind it were hundreds of other such tanks. They all contained reptiles—not just alligators, but snakes, lizards, and who knew what else. They were like specimens in a lab back at the university.

  The Visitor massaged the 'gator with the violet waves until it was out cold. It almost looked as though it were smiling, its huge, crooked jaws turning up behind the eyes in a pleased expression.

  A larger machine floated in with a man riding on it. He was positioned in a seat behind a curving console, working a device with a long, sinuous appendage that opened into an oblong cavity.

  The machine began to whir, and Jack saw green sparks inside the dark cavity. The water in the sleeping 'gator's tank roiled as if the gator was stirring, but he hadn't budged.

  The water began to spout upward, but it didn't spill over the side, even when it was over the open top of the glass tank. Everything inside suddenly started to float upward—the 'gator as well as the huge blob of dirty water. When it was positioned in front of the machine, the entire apparatus—driver, 'gator, water and all—glided silently into an exit resembling a big hangar door.

  "What do you think is behind that door?" Jack asked.

  "You may not want to know," a voice said, "once you find out."

  It wasn't T.J.'s voice. Jack whipped around. T.J. was still there, but a scaly hand held a laser pistol against his head.

  Chapter 19

  Thorkel entered Dr. Morrow's quarters for the first time. The great scientist's rooms were dimly lit by a revolving light sculpture of changing hues. Dr. Thorkel was always calmed by this mode of Visitor expression, and he supposed they must have found it restful too.

  The door shut behind him. Dr. Morrow sat at a desk, facing him as he walked past the fascinating sculpture, its colors reflected in his dark glasses.

  "Dr. Thorkel," he said. "So good of you to come."

  He always admired the Visitors' manners, particularly those of Dr. Morrow. They were the hallmark of a truly civilized race. "It is my pleasure."

  "Doctor, our work on the prototype has reached a point where theory is no longer enough. Don't you agree?" Dr. Morrow leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingertips together in front of his chest.

  "I'm not sure I understand," Thorkel said.

  "Please sit down." Dr. Morrow indicated a chair opposite him.

  Thorkel sat down. He looked across the desk at Dr. Morrow, watching the colored lights play across his face and gleam on the curve of his dark glasses.

  "The ability of the prototype must be tested, don't you agree?" Dr. Morrow said.

  "Of course. How else can we ever know if it will be effective?"

  "Precisely. We must know how it will respond to stimulus in the field—a controlled experiment, you might say."

  "I agree that this should be our next step in this program," Dr. Thorkel said, running his fingers through the thin hair on the back of his bald head. "But what will we test the prototype against?"

  Dr. Morrow smiled. "Suppose you leave that to me, Dr. Thorkel?"

  There was something in Dr. Morrow's tone that made him uneasy. For the first time it crossed his mind that he was being used. He quickly squelched the thought, certain that it was nonproductive. "I'll be very interested in seeing what you have in mind."

  "I knew you would be," Dr. Morrow said. "In a way, this will be a test for you too, Dr. Thorkel."

  "For ... me?"

  Dr. Morrow laughed, a rasping, hissing sound that was totally nonhuman.

  Unable to sleep, Billy got out of bed and paced the floor of his tiny cell. They had stopped taking the tissue samples, so he was visited only half as often as before. The only time the cell door opened now, it was to admit someone bringing food for him.

  That meant two things. They didn't need him for their experiments any longer, and he had better make his escape attempt very soon.

  He was getting hungry now, so they should be coming soon. If he didn't do it now, he never would.

  Positioning himself by the door, he waited.

  Somewhere between thirty minutes and an hour passed before the door whooshed open. Billy crouched, ready to spring on the jailer.

  But the jailer wasn't alone. There were two others with him, both training laser pistols right at Billy. The jailer didn't carry a food tra
y. Instead, he had something that looked like a big desk lamp. He pointed it at Billy.

  "What are you doing?" Billy cried. This couldn't be happening. This was the moment he was going to make his break for freedom.

  A chirping sound came out of the strange device. Violet waves shot toward him. Billy tried to jump out of the way, but the waves fanned out through the room. He was caught in the waves, but they didn't burn him, as he expected, nor did they hurt him in any way. They immersed him, bathing him in their warmth, soothing him, calming his fears.

  Soon he was almost asleep. The jailer came into the cell and took him by the elbow.

  Billy was gently led away.

  Chapter 20

  "Don't get too far away," Ham called to Chris and Martin from the canoe. "Try to stay within earshot, if not in sight."

  Ham paddled as Marie sat near the prow as lookout.

  "Look at this stuff," he said, watching the water drip from the end of his oar. "We take it for granted, and the Visitors have come eight or ten light-years just to wet their claws in it."

  "It seems odd that it's such a rare thing on other planets," Marie said.

  "From what I understand, hydrogen is the most common element in the universe. It's oxygen that's rare, and you need both hydrogen and oxygen for water."

  "Well, if they're here in the swamp, they've got all the water they could ever want."

  "For a few of them, yes," Ham agreed. "But not for an entire race, and then there's their protein shortage."

  Marie shuddered. She'd seen a 'gator eat a small dog when she was a girl; that was the image that popped into her mind when she thought of the Visitors eating mammals.

  "From what John Tiger told Martin," Ham said, shipping his oar, "it was right around here that he found the burned paddle."

  "I don't see anything." Marie squinted as sunlight found its way through the thick foliage.

  "John must have taken the paddle." Ham began to row again, keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of a struggle. They drifted silently for a moment, and then he saw something.