Mask

by C. C. Kelly

  “What’s on your mind Lane? Something new?” Doc Larson asked.

  “Nothing.” Lane turned back to the blinds.

  Allen sighed. “See anything?”

  “No. It’s still clear, for now,” Lane responded, still gazing at the forest.

  “What about the relief marines? Do you think they are going to get here in time?” Doc Larson asked.

  Lane shook his head. “They should’ve already been here. We can hope, but I doubt they made it.”

  “I thought they were moving several platoons over. If they can’t get through, who can?” Allen asked.

  No one responded.

  “How long do we have?” Wally asked, breaking the silence.

  Lane returned his attention to the room. “Commander Eton left yesterday morning and he was engaged by late afternoon. That isn’t very far, less than ten kilometers I’d say. Gentlemen, I’m guessing we’re already on borrowed time.”

  Doc Larson looked at Wally, “No luck on finding keys to the weapons vault?”

  Wally snorted. “No, we’ve been all over the place. You heard the racket. We spent all afternoon trying to break in. No luck. We have exactly one six-shot pistol and that belongs to Corporal Dix.”

  “Poor kid,” the Doc said, “the only marine left behind and he’s as useless as we are.”

  “Nothing in Medical?” Allen asked again.

  Doc Larson shook his head — again.

  “Some of us might survive if we make a run for it. We have ten operable enviro-suits,” Allen offered.

  “They don’t fit the children,” Doc countered, “besides, even with the re-breather and scrubbers, it’s only buying a few days.”

  “Yeah, I forgot about the kids,” he said and then looked up suddenly. “I didn’t forget them, I meant, the suits.”

  Lane winked. “We knew what you meant, it’s okay.”

  Doc Larson continued, “Remember, the brochure lied? Don’t let the beauty of this place fool you; it’s hellishly dangerous out there. Of course, we could just turn off the oxygen scrubbers and let the outside air in, but that isn’t going to be quick or painless.”

  Allen nodded.

  “What about the Bunker, Boss?” Wally asked, “it’s fortified, we’d all fit and could last there, right?”

  Lane just looked at him and said, “No.”

  “We’ve given up hope of being picked up?” Allen asked.

  Doc Larson sighed, “Tim’s been at the radio all day, nothing. An EVAC unit is too far away now, even if we did get through.”

  “Not if we could hold out in the Bunker,” Wally said.

  “The Bunker isn’t an option anymore than just waiting up in the Rec-room,” Lane said with the same flat delivery he used to explain why the toilets backed up.

  Doc Larson leaned forward in his seat and looked at each of them, “We’ve been through this. We don’t have time to backtrack. The decision’s already been made, now we need the means.”

  Allen stood up and began to pace. “Yeah, but we don’t have anything there either, do we?”

  “Hang on a second, Boss,” Wally said, “we have the foundation tools down in the basement, right? They’re in the Equipment Room next to the Bunker.”

  Lane looked up at him and smiled softly to his friend. “Yes we do, good thinking Wall. We have some heavy tools down there.”

  “Foundation tools?” Allen asked.

  “You came late to the party, Al. When we build these outposts, we have to dig out the basement levels, and then pour concrete foundations. That equipment was off-loaded back at Outpost 1. It moves with each new construction project, it’s up at Outpost 12 now. But we sometimes still need the smaller stuff for refitting and maintenance, so each Outpost has their own.”

  “So?” Allen asked.

  “So, one piece of that equipment is used to anchor machinery through sleeves in the concrete floor and into the granite strata that runs just under the basement level,” Lane answered.

  “But what good does that do us up here?” Allen asked.

  Wally reached out and grabbed Allen’s hands and stopped him. Allen looked down into Wally’s eyes.

  “Not up here, mate, it’s a bring Mohammad to the mountain kind of thing,” Wally said.

  “Yes, good thinking, Wally,” the Doc said, patting him on the shoulder. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I think Lane is on the right track. The Expansion Driver should work. I think we can leverage it up and mount it to the wall,” Wally said.

  Doc Larson asked, “What’s an Expansion Driver?”

  Lane said, “You know the larger machinery, the oxygen scrubbers, heat exchangers and power cores, that’s what I was talking about. They need to be anchored in place. The Expansion Driver is a pneumatic powered machine that forces an expansion shaft into the granite. We just call it the Punch.”

  Allen slowly pulled his hand away and walked back to his chair and sat down. “I like Wally’s other idea better. Lane, why are you against using the Bunker and waiting on an EVAC?”

  Doc Larson sighed and shook his head.

  “Al, you have to get your head around this. We’ve been over it and over it,” Lane said softly.

  Allen looked away, trying to conceal his fear and frustration.

  Lane looked at him and leaned forward. “Al, hey Al, look at me.”

  Allen turned.

  “What do you know about Outpost 3?”

  The others stared at him as well. Lane let the question hang as they sorted it out. Slowly, each in turn, dropped their heads in understanding.

  Allen was the one to say it out loud and confirm their suspicions. “They were in the Bunker, huh?”

  “Most of them. It didn’t matter at all. I’m not even sure it bought them any more time,” Lane said.

  “Okay. Okay,” Allen said sniffing away his emotions, “so how does this punch work?”

  Lane took another glance through the blinds and then stood up and leaned against the desk. “Like I said, it’s a simple pneumatic punch, about one and half inches in diameter. The throw of the shaft can be calibrated down to about twelve inches. The punch is fast,” he looked up at everyone, “very fast and very powerful. I think this will work just like turning off a light switch. We don’t need the anchors, just the Punch, and it should work sort of like coring an apple.”

  “Yeah, we can set it up at the right height off the floor and use a box or something as a variable platform and we have the Bunker through the other door, you know, for after,” Wally added.

  Doc began stroking his Van Dyke again as he thought it through, and then said in a clinically detached tone, “Twelve inches is too wide for the children. We’ll have to hold their heads tight. We’ll need something that won’t frighten them. The punch needs to go through just in front of the ear. If we miss, they won’t die and the pain would be terrible.”

  Light suddenly exploded in the room. The other men shielded their eyes as Lane jumped from the desk and pushed the newcomer out of the way, kicking the door closed as he turned off the lights.

  “Have you lost your mind?” he shouted.

  “No,” Glenda Fields screamed, “but I just heard that you’ve all gone insane! Do I have this right? Your amazing plan for defending the Outpost is mass suicide?”

  “Look, Glenda,” Lane began.

  “Don’t even try to patronize me, Lane. We are not going to kill everyone. You are not going you kill my Polly.”

  “No one is going to kill your daughter or anyone else,” Doc Larson said calmly.

  Glenda glared at him, trembling with rage. “Semantics? A time like this, and you’re offering up semantic platitudes?”

  Doc Larson just shook his head.

  “Lane, what about your kids?” she asked.

  “What about them?”

  “Just like that, you’re going to murder them? You know you can’t. Lane, you’re kind, and gentle. You’ll never be able to go through with it. You can’t, you just can’t.�
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  Lane grabbed both of her wrists and pushed her back against the door and leaned into her face.

  She stared back through disheveled red hair with increasingly wild eyes.

  “I can and I will. You know the stories.”

  “Propaganda and lies.”

  Lane bounced her roughly off of the door. “No, not lies. I was there, at Outpost 3, just after.”

  The other men sucked in air. This was a revelation.

  The tears streamed down her freckled face. “But Lane, please, I’m begging you.”

  Lane leaned his face against hers, dropping her wrists and hugged her tightly. “We must, please believe me. You can’t imagine what happened there. If you knew, you’d never want anyone to go through that. They are monsters beyond imagining, Glenda.”

  “No!” She screamed and pushed Lane away, “Never. I’m taking the enviro-suits.”

  Lane studied her face — she’d gone over.

  “They won’t fit Polly. She will hardly be able to walk, much less run.”

  “No, we’re going and you can’t stop me.”

  “Glenda, we can’t let you just —”

  “What? You going to murder me right here, Lane?”

  She turned to open the door, but Lane grabbed her again and squeezed her bicep with a workman’s hardened grip. He squeezed until she yelped. She pulled back from Lane’s sudden rage, but he did not let go.

  “Fine, Glenda, do what you must, but do it quietly. We can’t have you going back out there and creating a panic. Do you understand?”

  He squeezed even harder, she gasped.

  “Yes Lane, I understand.”

  He gripped her chin with his other hand and pushed her back against the door and stared into her eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes Lane, please.”

  “I want you to go find Corporal Dix. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Dix.”

  “Have him come see me. He’ll help you with the suits and run the air-lock for you. Got it?”

  “Yes Lane, please, you’re hurting me.”

  “Glenda, do you have it?”

  “Yes, yes, have Dix see you, yes Lane, please. I just want to go.”

  She collapsed against his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. He held her up and stroked her hair like she was a child. She looked up and nodded.

  “You good?” Lane asked.

  “No, but yeah. Yeah,” she said as her composure reluctantly returned, “I’m good.”

  Lane nodded. He released her and gently pulled her to the side and opened the door.

  Glenda turned back and placed a trembling hand on Lane’s chest, “Thank you. God Bless all of you.” And then she was gone as the door clicked closed behind her.

  When the door closed he dropped his head against it.

  Doc Larson stood up and put a hand on Lane’s shoulder.

  “Jesus,” Wally said.

  “You were there?” Allen asked.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He faced each of them down, making eye contact and said quietly, “I’ll go last, because nothing’s going to break my resolve. You’ve all read the reports, but unless you’ve seen it, you have no idea what they are truly capable of, no idea at all.”

  Wally and Allen just stared at him.

  “Why did they lock the weapons up anyway?” Allen mumbled.

  “Because Eton knew that when everything went to shit, we’d have folks like Glenda,” Doc Larson answered.

  “Enough dicking around,” Lane said, “let’s get this shit over with, we’re running out of time.”

  ******

  Lane stood at the windows of the Rec-room. It was a large, open space on the main floor with a domed glass ceiling. He looked up and watched the two moons stare back. Allen was right, we should have never come out here, he thought.

  Behind him the scientists, lab techs, maintenance workers, wives, mothers, husbands and fathers talked quietly and occasionally hugged their children, but more often pulled back at the last moment, like reaching for an apparition. He fought back tears. They were all being incredibly brave. They understood and that was good, because this was going to be very ugly before their work was done.

  “Lane,” Allen called from across the room, pointing out the windows.

  Lane looked out to see seven figures walking away to the north wearing orange enviro-suits. They carried two others — that made nine in total. Lane did the math. Forty-three adults, six teenagers and five little kids were still in the Outpost. Two of those kids belonged to him.

  He felt hands run across his waist and turned to look into his wife’s emerald eyes. Catherine smiled up at him and kissed him gently, then laid her head against his chest. He hugged her close and looked across the room to see his own children, Lily and William playing a vid game with the other kids. Lily was five and William would be seven next week.

  He squeezed Catherine to him and tried to choke back a sob, but it escaped and he began to cry softly, burying his face in her dishwater blond hair. She shook in his embrace, fiercely squeezing back.

  “There’s no other choice,” she said, “We were both there, we know.”

  “What if I’m wrong?”

  She pulled back and took his face in both of her delicate hands and spoke slowly, “You’re not wrong. You know that.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes,” she sniffed and ran the back of her hand across her eyes and then reached up and kissed away Lane’s tears.

  “Glenda and some of the others took the enviro-suits and made a run for it,” Lane said.

  Catherine took Lane’s hands and turned around to watch their children and leaned back into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “I know. Corporal Dix went with them.”

  “He did? He was suppose to come see me first, doesn’t matter. Who ran the lock?”

  “Me.”

  “You? I was worried she was going to start in out here and panic everyone, but she kept her promise.”

  “No she didn’t,” Catherine said, “she started talking to Father Timmons as soon as she came out. A few folks gathered around and they were talking about being too far from Earth for God to find them and guide them to Heaven. They started to panic, for their souls I guess — wondering if God could hear their prayers. Then she started to address the group, but I was done with her by then.”

  “And?”

  “And now her little group is out there,” she said pointing blindly out the window. “She was bat-shit crazy, better for her not to be here. Better for us. You know?”

  “I know. How did she get the recruits to join her, the God thing? Never mind, it doesn’t matter either.”

  “What do you think is going to happen to them?” she asked.

  “If they’re lucky, they’ll die from painful toxic poisoning when their scrubbers run afoul.”

  “And if they’re unlucky?”

  He kissed the top of her head, “You already know the answer to that.”

  “Want to hear something interesting?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  “A coupe of days ago, before the, before, we re-aligned the orbital telescope and found another earth-like planet. It’s just over a light year from here.”

  “Another planet we should never go to.”

  “Probably. I sent the information back to earth anyway, before the jamming started. I’m curious what they’ll do.”

  Lane wrapped his arms around her tighter. “They’ll come, but they’ll bring more soldiers than scientists this time. This is the beginning of an inter-stellar war, Cat.”

  “We should have stayed home, huh?”

  Lane looked up through the dome again at the alien stars. “It’s been an adventure. I’ve loved almost every moment of it, but I think I’d rather be back in our little South Side apartment.”

  “I loved that place.” She turned again and looked up at him. “I love you Lane, I love you so much.” She sobbed again.

  “I love you too, Cat.”
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  He watched his children play as Catherine sobbed into his chest. They had no comprehension of what was happening, what was about to happen.

  He scanned the stoic faces of the other parents — moist eyes and brave smiles. Squeezing their spouse’s hands and not letting on by paying too much attention to their children. They fought against every instinct to hold them, to protect them, but instead, allowed them to be children for just a few more moments — a few more moments to play.

  The Rec-room was quiet except for the gentle laughter of five children — five children playing under the hopeless gaze of their parents.

  Lane leaned back, tears slowly streaking his cheeks. He wouldn’t have time for this later.

  ******

  Wally stood back and looked at the punch under the red glow of the emergency lights. The muted steel track was mounted to the wall so that the punch housing itself was horizontal. The bright red housing was spherical and looked like a ripe tomato. It contained the mechanism and motor. Hydraulic tubing sprouted from it like roots seeking soil.

  Wally had found several aluminum equipment cases for people to stand on so they would reach the proper height for the punch. He stacked them up neatly to the side. He found a flat rolling cart and parked it on the other side of the machine. He would take the bodies as they fell, place them on the cart and roll them through the back entrance of the Equipment Room and around into the Bunker.

  They would have no choice but to stack them.

  Wally stood, staring into the Bunker.

  “Like cord-wood,” he said aloud, choking on his words.

  He grimaced and walked over to a supply closet and retrieved a ledger book and a pen. He opened it on a table next to the Bunker doorway so that he could make note of each colonist. He leaned over and began to write in a surprisingly delicate script:

  This is the last record for Outpost 9, Paradigm Alpha — Earth date, year 2187, 17 March.

  Herein lie the bodies of the colonist of Outpost 9, brave souls all, who took their own lives rather than surrender to the Alien Demons.