Bigfoot Abomination

by Dane Hatchell

  “Is it really necessary to keep slinging us around like this?” Tarik asked. “I don’t care how low you fly. I bet the Skinks are tracking us. If you took a direct route, we could have been there in thirty minutes.”

  “They may be tracking us but they don’t know where we’re going to land. A straight route will have them right on top of us when we set down. At least this way they can’t react until we do. It buys us a few precious minutes.”

  The lavish green terrain had remained mostly unchanged in this area since the Skink invasion. Civilization sparsely populated the towering forests below.

  Tarik had learned how to fly a jumpship at the base, but he had never been on a wild ride like this. The virtual simulator had him conditioned to some extent to handle the motion swings affecting his balance. But he hadn’t felt the abrupt g-force pulls at his body as Zax pushed the aircraft to its limits. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

  Zax snickered. “You better hope not with your armor on. That would be nasty.”

  “There’s not enough room in here for me to open the helmet. I’ll just have to keep it down.”

  “We’re not far, see? The industrial park outlines the city in this part of town.” Zax piloted the ship to the right, using the Missouri River as a path.

  The trees in the distance gave way to concrete and steel giants. The race was just about to begin.

  *

  Zax set the jumpship down not far from the river’s edge. A swath of trees separated the muddy waters from an industrial warehouse some one hundred and fifty meters away. The canopy of the small craft opened, and Tarik and Zax wasted no time bailing off the side onto the soft ground.

  With the Nu-Man in the lead with his blaster held tightly to his chest, Tarik matched step for step, falling slightly behind as his gait wasn’t quite as long. His HUD had the ability to scan an area up to sixty meters in all directions. Of course, solid objects did present problems. The trees they now weaved around filtered some of the information. Luckily, there was no electronic surveillance active and no sign of Skink or Nu-Man life around.

  The woods gave way to flat land that led to a street named River Road. The two rebels hurried across the pavement, charging toward a fence that surrounded heavy equipment.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Tarik asked between quick breaths.

  “If you’re thinking about taking the bulldozer, no.”

  “As if. That white truck over there. Let’s take it.”

  “Works for me,” Zax said and pulled away as he sped on.

  The big Nu-Man had the driver’s side door open and was examining the dash as Tarik stepped up. “Has the ignition been disabled?”

  The engine purred to life with a soft hum. “No. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be. There aren’t many kids around nowadays to go on joy rides. No other reason to disable the ignition.”

  Tarik searched his HUD. He was afraid he had let his guard down and suddenly felt exposed. Nothing. “I’m having second thoughts. It’s going to look strange if others see a Nu-Man escorting a Skink warrior in a work truck.”

  “True,” Zax said and hesitated. “Here, get in the back and lay low. No one from street level will be able to see you back there.”

  “Well, that’s the only choice we have. Drop the gate.”

  Zax pushed a button on the dash and the tailgate lowered. The bed of the truck sank as he moved his transmetal covered body onto it, finally coming to rest on his back. “Let’s go.”

  The door closed, the gate lifted, and soon the truck started a slow trek down a bumpy road. Clouds billowed in the open sky as Tarik forced his body to release the built up tension and relax.

  It wasn’t long before the industrial buildings gave way to residential and commercial structures. He could see them lined on both sides of the street and his HUD outlined the people, both Skinks and Nu-Mans, as they carried on through an ordinary day.

  Tarik wished he could shed his armor and watch from the back of the truck with his own eyes rather than view life through electronic lenses. Most of his life’s experiences had been filtered through a screen before reaching his eyes. Even the air he breathed right now was tainted by technology. What would the wind feel like blowing through his hair while he rode in the back of a truck? The different sights, the enormous variety of people. The different smells wafting from various restaurants. Tarik had never even been face to face with a Skink outside of his recent battle. What did their skin feel like? Was there any way that he could convince them to save the Nu-Mans? Perhaps he could appeal to them in such a way that they would continue the Nu-Mans’ endeavor to recreate the human race. It just seemed so wrong for a species to invade from another planet and take everything for themselves and leave nothing to Mother Earth’s firstborn.

  The HUD issued an alert. A security cruiser was in the air a few blocks over and heading their way. “Zax, we got trouble. Overhead cruiser will be on top of us in no time. Registering a Skink warrior in the back of a truck driven by a Nu-Man is going to have them up our butts.”

  “My butt isn’t big enough for that,” Zax said over his tel-com. “I’m going to have to park this thing…wait…there’s an alley between those buildings, where they keep the dumpsters. We’ll go there.”

  The truck slowed to a stop and then turned. The sunlight faded quickly as the truck rolled down the alley. When the truck stopped again, Zax said, “Let’s go.”

  The tailgate lowered, and Tarik shimmied out the back.

  Zax had his blaster at the ready and searched for the next move.

  The cruiser was sure to be able to see the signature of Tarik’s armor, but that wasn’t necessarily enough of a reason for them to investigate. Skinks dressed in transmetal armor maintained a loose presence in urban settings to maintain structured order. Nu-Mans had always been treated as free, but their relationship with the Skinks was not much different than that of master and slave. The aliens had molded the Nu-Man society into necessary subservience. With god-like technology mystifying the transitional human race, the Nu-Mans reached out to the Skinks as saviors upon the invasion of the planet. Willing slaves ready to receive consolation from strict but respectful masters. Of course, that was all a hundred years before the Skinks revealed that it was they who had introduced the virus on Earth before their appearance, which progressed humans in an artificial evolutionary step as the sasquatch-human hybrid.

  Tarik suspected the recombinant DNA manipulation had quenched some of the independent fire humans possessed. He was often scolded by his teachers for his anarchy against the system. Nu-Mans, such as Zax and Bix, and the rest of the strike team, with a rebellious nature, were an anomaly. Skinks had never feared of a massive Nu-Man uprising. Rebel nests were rare. Insurgencies historically ended quickly.

  “I better get out of sight, just in case,” Tarik said. There were four doors down the alley for them to choose. “Let’s take that one, over there.” He pointed to the one at the end.

  Trotting over, Tarik motioned Zax to the side away from the door. The armored glove latched onto the handle and a firm, steady pull had the deadbolt bend against the strike plate until the door frame spit concrete, releasing the lock’s bite.

  The dimly lit room housed components for power distribution throughout the building. Multicolored light flowed along translucent cables snaking up the wall. They were safe for the moment.

  “How long do you think it’ll take us to get to the safe-house?” Tarik asked.

  “Ten blocks over to the northwest will put us on the edge of town. If we make it that far we shouldn’t have any problem passing through the old-life to our hiding place.”

  Tarik had seen images of the abandoned buildings of ancient human dwellings. Many of the structures had beautiful character, with large windows, and towering pillars of opulent design. Other houses were more humble, rather box-like, in fact. After the human’s genetic transformation into the Nu-Mans, the houses of old would no longer afford comfort. The Skinks spo
nsored massive building projects to accommodate the larger Nu-Mans. Most of the old neighborhoods of man had been leveled or simply left to be demolished by the hands of time. Remnants of human civilization were commonly referred to as the old-life.

  Tarik’s armor operated slightly above ninety percent power. The transmetal had molecule realignment properties capable of mending minor damage to the suit. That feature required a lot of energy, more than what his individual unit could supply. “It might be better if we wait until nightfall,” Tarik said. His gaze drifted to inputs on a rectangular junction box near a wall, and he pointed. “I could plug in over there and shine the armor up a bit.”

  “I don’t think we should delay. We still have some element of surprise in our favor. I’m sure by now the Skinks have found the jumpship by the river. They’ll be fanning out from there trying to find us. I think we should keep moving.”

  “You’re going to stand out a little. You can’t go sightseeing wearing a tel-com helmet and dressed in body armor. What are you going to do with that blaster? You’ve already confessed your butt’s not robust enough to handle visitors,” Tarik said.

  The big Nu-Man turned his gaze to the floor and slowly shook his head. “As much as I hate doing this….” He set his blaster down and worked off his helmet. Next, he unbuckled the protective torso and groin armor.

  Zax stood wearing a common tunic. He adjusted the hem of the purple garment down his thighs and brushed out the wrinkles. The tunic wrapped from his waist up over his left breast, the right remained exposed. He left the small backpack in place and adjusted the straps near the chest. “Not too out of the ordinary, huh?”

  “I guess not. Your boots might stand out a bit. They’re kind of clunky for walking the streets of Kansas City.”

  “You’re going to have to chance it in the suit. Can you imagine the reaction if a human appeared in public?” Zax reached over and unstrapped the backpack, retrieving a black cloth. “Your armor’s scuffed up enough to draw some attention. Let me see if I can polish a little shine back into it.”

  Tarik held out his arms and accommodated his buddy as he worked the cloth over transmetal.

  After a few minutes, Zax stepped back and admired his efforts. “That looks a lot better. There’re still pits in the suit but shouldn’t be too noticeable. You ready to do this?”

  “Yeah. Just walk in front of me. I’ll follow closely. Try to stay in shadows and use vehicles as camouflage when we have to cross streets.”

  Zax nodded and walked over to a door on the other side of the room. He turned his gaze over to his blaster and armor, and sighed. He sprung the latch on the door. “Here we go.”

  *

  With the Nu-Man in the lead, Tarik placed his left hand on his friend’s back and maintained a close and steady distance. This street led to an intersection where they would veer north. Vehicles sporadically parked to either side while a few lumbered up and down to their destination. Modern passenger vehicles were all of the same design, varying only in size to accommodate capacity. There were even two passenger models, though much fewer in number. Levitation rail systems ferried the masses around large cities and to main civilization hubs across the US. Tarik tried to imagine what the street would look like with the sheet metal creations of man from the late 1900s cruising around. When he was younger, he spent hours researching the hot rods from the ’50s and ’60s. Their bulky but aggressive style sparked a grand desire of lust. Mechanized chariots gleaming in wild colors like Go Mango, Top Banna, and Plum Crazy. What would it be like to race a ’64 Pontiac GTO and a ’68 Plymouth Road Runner Hemi? What did it feel like to mash the acceleration and smell burning rubber when shooting out of the hole, hearing the roar of four hundred horses, and the thrill of acceleration down your spine? Often Tarik wondered if memories were genetically transferred, because when reading mankind’s history, certain aspects felt oddly familiar.

  He wasn’t sure what the buildings towering around him housed; perhaps they were apartments? He would love to have the freedom to explore each of them. The viewscreen still filtered what his eyes saw, but this short walk stoked a feeling of presence-of-being unlike he’d ever felt before. The unusual external input made him feel a little light-headed. Now was not the time to let his guard down.

  A Nu-Man turned the corner just before the two rebels reached the intersection. Zax kept his pace steady, and Tarik didn’t waver. When the Nu-Man passed, he gave no indication he suspected anything was out of the ordinary.

  Activity increased on the main street. Tarik’s HUD sorted out the different objects and reported back. It appeared to be an ordinary day, unaffected by their presence.

  A small number of civilian Skinks mingled among the Nu-Mans. This was a first for Tarik. He looked over in the direction of a male Skink crossing from the other side of the street. The alien’s head was uncovered, with slick looking green-grayish skin layering a rounded skull. Bone thickened above the eyes, which were oval in shape and about twice the size of Tarik’s. A verticle thin oval pupil cut the middle of his golden iris.The slightly raised nasal bone jutted between the eye sockets and ended near his upper lip. Whereas human and Nu-Man faces were more square in shape, the Skink’s jaw was triangular shaped, becoming point-like at the chin. The alien was as tall as a Nu-Man but with an obvious lower body mass. Still, his tight muscles bulged underneath his clingy black and silver coverall.

  The alien walked right by Tarik’s heels as he reached the sidewalk and didn’t seem to suspect anything out of the ordinary. Tarik could have turned around and touched him, but the outworlder might as well have been a million miles away. If the mission were successful, he would never have the opportunity to feel Skink and human flesh press together.

  So far the plan was working. If the two played it cool enough, they could be on the outskirts of old-life within an hour.

  The trek down the sidewalk brought them past a row of eateries. Some of the establishments had tables out front and patrons enjoying drinks and meals in the open air. A wonderful smell of charring meat carried up Tarik’s nose and bathed his salivary glands, instantly reminding him he hadn’t eaten for nearly twenty-four hours. He noticed Zax’s head turn and his gaze linger as they walked by.

  Restaurant patrons passed plates filled with leafy vegetables and chunky tubers, poultry, beef, lamb, noodles, and fat and flatbreads. Warm smells intermingled with aromatic scents and savory delights. Tarik had never been around food prepared in such a way. Institutional eating had one purpose: to fill the gut. This food was cooked for the patron to enjoy the experience of eating; even the presentation made the food more appealing.

  Still, the Nu-Mans who sat at the tables showed only moderate interest. Perhaps they were jaded to dining experiences such as these. Perhaps they realized they were only occupying their time until dying and leaving the Earth behind, with no prodigy to carry on.

  Tarik was glad to get past the more active part of town, with only a couple of blocks to go before reaching the old-life neighborhood. He thought he could make out the ruining houses in the distance.

  A civilian Skink approached with a bag over each shoulder and in an obvious hurry. His gaze was glued to the sidewalk, and Zax politely moved over a couple of steps to give the alien ample access. Right as the Skink reached Zax, his gaze came up and so did his upper lip. He didn’t break stride but looked over at Tarik next, with a discerning eye.

  They were so close. They didn’t need any unwanted attention now. Tarik watched his HUD. The alien stopped and turned around.

  “I need you to identify yourself.”

  Skinks were fluent in English, as well as any other of Earth’s languages. But they usually spoke in their common language to each other. Tarik’s circuits were custom designed to translate both incoming and outgoing communications.

  Tarik stopped and turned. “No, you don’t.” Skinks weren’t known for being humble, even with each other. Tarik wore the armor of a Skink warrior and didn’t need to answer to a civilian.<
br />
  “Your armor. It is damaged. What happened to it?”

  “Training exercise. Now go away, the Nu-Man and I have work to do.”

  “What kind of work?”

  The Skink no doubt had heard a report, and the situation was out of the ordinary enough that he wasn’t going to just let it go. Skink apparel had voice-activated communicators built in. Tarik and Zax could be outed in an instant.

  Zax had turned. Tarik raised a hand to him and slowly walked toward the Skink.

  “It is nothing really.” He spread his hands slightly before him. “The fact is, we have had a long morning. I have not had time to recharge my armor. Here, let me send you my identification.” Tarik stopped inside a meter from the alien.

  Seemingly satisfied, the Skink relaxed his shoulders.

  In one swift motion, Tarik clamped his transmetal gloves around the alien’s throat.

  The Skink’s eyes ballooned to what looked like a half size larger. As strong as his neck muscles might have been, they were no match for the armor. The breath trapped in his throat would never escape. As his throat further crushed, his mouth opened wider. In reality, the death had only taken an instant.

  Tarik hugged the body before it fell to the ground and pulled it over by the building façade over to the next joining street. He was fully aware of his HUD sending information, and for the moment, there were no prying eyes to give them away.

  Zax danced from side to side, trying to keep his body between the street and Tarik’s unseemly deed. The two found steps on the side of a building that led to an underground entrance and dragged the dead Skink down.