by Ray Garton
The long, snaking creature was inches from David’s face and he backed away from it, only to bump into the drone. The thing before him wheezed and hissed; its breath passed over David like a breeze from a garbage dump and he winced, turning his head and coughing.
When he turned, he spotted Mrs. McKeltch. She stood with her back to him, her hands locked just above her lumpy hips, staring through the opaque membrane.
David took a step toward her and was held back by the drone. From where he stood, he could see hazy images through the membrane, beyond Mrs. McKeltch. A limp figure was being secured to a table.
Linda!
“Let her go!” David shouted at Mrs. McKeltch.
She looked over her shoulder at him, then turned to him fully. Her lips squirmed into a satisfied smile.
“You’re a very lucky boy, David Gardiner,” she said. “Not everybody gets to meet the Supreme Martian Intelligence.”
Slowly, David turned to the creature. It arched above him gracefully, hovering over the throne, the cilialike strands dangling below it. Wheezing like a fat man, it studied David. Muscles in its creased and flabby face twitched; its beady eyes blinked; its nostrils flared.
“Please . . .” David stepped toward it, searching his mind for the right words. “Please don’t hurt Linda. Can’t you just—”
“You’ve caused us a great deal of trouble already, David Gardiner,” Mrs. McKeltch interrupted, walking toward him.
David ignored her. “Nobody did anything to you,” he continued pleadingly, looking up at the Supreme Intelligence. “My mom and dad, Linda, all the others . . . they’re good people. They never—”
“It’s too late!” Mrs. McKeltch spat. “Too late.”
David turned on her like an animal. “Shut up! I’m talking to him!” He turned to the creature again. “Please, can’t you just—”
“It is too late, David Gardiner!”
He turned to her again, clenched his teeth, and growled, “Look, I’ll stay after school every day for the rest of my life if you’ll just shut . . . up!”
Her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise.
To the Supreme Intelligence, he said, “Don’t you understand? You can’t do this to people! You can’t control them like . . . like puppets! You’re not gonna get away with this!”
Mrs. McKeltch stepped to his side and raised her hand above her head. “One, two, three, four, five!
Ignoring her, he shouted at the beast, “You won’t get away with it! We’ll stop you!”
One of the tentacles wrapped around the throne slowly uncurled and raised above the creature, then whistled downward like a whip. It slammed David to the floor, face down.
The wind was sucked from David’s lungs and a web of pain spread over his back. Grunting, he turned his head to see Mrs. McKeltch’s stubby black shoes inches from his face. He craned his head back just enough to look up at her face.
She was grinning as she hissed, “It’s your turn now, David Gardiner.”
The tentacle held him down firmly. He turned his face toward the Supreme Intelligence. Its mouth was curled into a sneer. The thin lips parted slowly to speak. The voice was a cold, mocking impersonation of Dad.
“Poor little guy,” it said cruelly. “Poo-hoor little guy.”
“No!” David screamed. He began kicking his legs and flailing his arms until he squirmed out from under the creature’s tentacle. Crawling frantically, he got far enough away from the Supreme Intelligence to stand safely. He turned to the creature, saw its angry, piercing eyes, and David felt a rush of violence inside. He ran toward the Supreme Intelligence, ducking its whipping tentacle, and screamed. “I’ll fix you, you . . . you dick head!”
David clenched his fist, pulled his arm back, and threw a punch with all his weight. His fist smacked between the creature’s two flaring, wet nostrils and sunk into the flesh a bit.
Like a turtle pulling in its head, the Supreme Intelligence slid back into its aperture several feet, raising its head high above the throne, writhing its tentacles. Its eyes squeezed shut until they were lumps of taut muscle and its mouth opened; the roaring scream that came from it was David’s idea of what it sounded like in hell.
The Supreme Intelligence continued to recoil; electric blue bolts of rampant energy raced around the chamber; sparks flew.
The drones staggered like drunkards, blinking with confusion.
Mrs. McKeltch pressed her hands to the sides of her neck and opened her mouth, but did not scream. She stumbled around silently, her mouth gaping.
The huge membrane sparked and fizzed.
David turned to run and heard Mrs. McKeltch moan, “Nooo!”
Her hand clamped onto his shoulder and pulled him back. Thinking fast, David reached over his shoulder into his backpack and grabbed his pouch of pennies. He spun around and held the pouch by its opening, swinging it hard. It struck Mrs. McKeltch in the temple and shattered. Pennies scattered everywhere and immediately began to sizzle and melt into the floor of the chamber.
Pennies! David thought, watching them disappear. Copper! The ship uses copper! That’s why they want it—for power!
He stumbled backward as Mrs. McKeltch reached for him again. She staggered to her left, tripped, and fell on a bobbing, convulsing drone. It grabbed her blindly, lifting her off the ground. She began kicking her legs and opened her mouth to protest, but was silenced. The drone stuffed her into its cavernous mouth head first. Her legs hung out over the jagged fangs, kicking and kicking . . . until the drone snapped its jaws shut.
Blood spurted everywhere in a black-red shower as the drone tipped its head back and pulled her now limp body further into its mouth . . .
David turned away and dashed toward the membrane, keeping a safe distance from the shooting sparks. Looking through it to the other side, he saw Linda lying face down on the table. The needle lowering slowly . . . closer and closer to her neck . . .
Crossing the chamber quickly, David looked at the Supreme Intelligence again. It was painfully writhing its way back into its aperture, screaming all the way. The whole ship was affected, as if David had damaged a major organ. The drones stumbled and fell; energy bolts slammed dangerously around the chamber.
David ran down the ramp for all he was worth . . .
Curtis and his men were still in the tunnels, trying to find their way into the ship. As they moved briskly toward yet another bend, Curtis thought he heard something.
“Halt!” he shouted, lifting a hand. “Listen!”
Somewhere in the winding tunnels he could hear a boy’s voice: “Captain Curtis! General Wilson! Over here!”
“It’s the boy!” Curtis shouted, taking off again, only to halt around the bend.
Two drones were startled by the Marines. One lifted its laser pod and fired. The beam struck one of the men and he was swallowed by flames, then gone without a sound.
“Get back!” Curtis shouted, waving. “Grenade,” he said to a troop beside him.
The man pulled the pin on a grenade and threw it around the bend. They all moved back for cover.
Silence.
Curtis frowned when the explosion didn’t come. Holding up his pistol, he stepped up to the corner and looked around it cautiously, just in time to see one of the drones plopping the grenade into its mouth.
The explosion threw a cascade of meat and green fluids over the tunnel walls.
When the smoke cleared, the men hurried on . . .
David ran through the opening of the ship and into the tunnel. He’d heard gunfire and an explosion.
“Hey!” he shouted. “I’m here! Captain Curtis! General Wilson!”
His legs pumping like pistons, his knee pierced with pain, David shot around a corner and almost fell on his face trying to come to a stop.
Two drones.
They’re all over the place! he thought.
One held a pod in one hand and a rectangular object in the other. The object seemed to be . . . of course! It was copper! The dron
e slipped the copper chunk into the back of the pod; it made a wet, sloshing sound. The drone aimed the pod at the wall. It opened up like a waking eye and a copper-colored beam shot into the wall. It made the tunnel wall glow, sizzle, and finally bubble as it melted away.
That’s how they make those smaller tunnels, David realized, watching a hole form in the wall.
Suddenly there was an explosion of gunfire and David pulled his head back, then pressed himself against the wall as pieces of the drones flew through the air. Machine guns sputtered and men shouted and David nearly collapsed with relief.
The Marines had arrived!
When the gunfire stopped, David heard Captain Curtis’s voice: “Jesus, I wasn’t trained for this!”
He stepped around the corner and saw Curtis with General Wilson, backed by platoons of Marines.
“This way!” David shouted. “C’mon, hurry!”
They thundered into the central chamber, with David in the lead.
He saw the Supreme Intelligence looking at them, its eyes burning with hate. Tendrils of electricity were streaming down the walls of the chamber, fanning across the membrane.
Two of the men approached the throne of the Supreme Intelligence first, their guns aimed. A shimmering web of energy appeared around the throne and shot two bolts toward the men, piercing their chests. They collapsed, blackened and stiff.
The troops opened fire all at once.
Holes began to blossom in the face and body of the Supreme Intelligence as bullets ripped through its skin.
Screaming and flinching, the creature pulled back into its aperture rapidly, its tentacles slicing through the air. The round, flat panel slid over the opening, sealing off the creature.
The electrical activity subsided until only a few wild bolts shot around the walls.
“That thing!” General Wilson shouted, pointing to the membrane. “Blow it away!”
The men opened fire on the membrane.
David pressed his palms over his ears to keep out the roar of gunfire.
The membrane fizzed and sparked; smoke gushed from its edges; the opaque center tore away like skin, fraying around the ripped edges. Blinding flashes of light came from the rim of the membrane as it disintegrated under fire.
The shooting stopped.
The smell of gunfire stung David’s nostrils. He dashed for the gaping hole and looked over the edge.
The long, cylindrical device was sputtering and shooting sparks. Its progress had been slowed, but it was still humming downward.
“Linda!” David screamed. He turned to the men, waved his arm, and shouted, “This way!” He led them down the ramp, around a corner, and into the operating room. “You’ve gotta stop it!” He pointed to the giant stinger descending toward Linda’s neck.
“Get up there!” General Wilson shouted, waving three of the men forward.
They raised their guns and opened fire on the device.
Bullets riddled its fleshy surface and it jerked back, pulling into itself. Sparks showered down over the room and green fluid shot in every direction. It disappeared into its orifice.
Curtis hurried to Linda’s side and David followed, weak with relief.
Linda stirred and began to sit up. Curtis slid an arm around her shoulders, supporting her.
“What’s . . . what’s going on?” she stuttered.
“Linda!” David breathed, near tears.
She opened her arms and he stepped into them. They held one another for several seconds as General Wilson began to give orders.
“Set some charges!” he shouted to the demolition men. “I want this blown to bits in five minutes!” He put a hand on David’s head and said to Linda, “Are you all right, Miss Magnuson?”
She nodded, pulling away from David. “Yes,” she said. “I’m fine. Can we . . . can we get out of here?”
“Right away.” He turned to his men.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” David said.
She kissed his forehead and hugged him again, sitting up on the edge of the table. “Me, too.”
The floor began to vibrate as a loud mechanical whine sounded from deep within the ship.
“What the hell is that?” General Wilson asked no one in particular.
David turned to him. “The engines!”
“Jesus! Everybody out!” To the demolition men, he said, “Charges set?”
“Yes, sir,” one of them replied. “It’ll blow in five minutes.”
“C’mon!” the general called.
They hurried from the ominous room, down a short passageway, and through the archway. Once out of the ship, they ran through the tunnel, passing a fork, heading for the opening.
Linda saw it first and screamed.
Amber eyes burning, rotors spinning, the copper-colored router that had cut through the floor of the school basement earlier was speeding straight for them . . .
C H A P T E R
Thirteen
“The fork!” David screamed. “Go back to the fork!”
David felt lost in the group of tall adults as they backtracked. He was jostled back and forth as he tried to keep from tripping over rushing feet. Linda held his arm tightly.
The router spun closer; the light from its eyes gave their skin and clothes a golden hue, darkening as it came closer.
They ducked around the bend into the other passage as the air churned around them violently, blowing their hair, fluttering Linda’s skirt.
The creature’s long, snakelike body was gone and its head shot freely through the tunnel. It folded its blades inward until it was a huge, veined ball. With a resonant slam, it flew into the entrance of the ship, plugging it like a cork in a bottle.
General Wilson stepped forward and looked skeptically at the motionless creature, waiting . . .
“Sir,” one of the men called.
“Yeah?”
“Less than four minutes before the charges detonate.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
The general raced several steps ahead of the rest of them toward the entrance; David was at his heels.
“Almost there, David,” the general said without looking back at him. “Everything’s gonna be just fine.” General Wilson stopped in his tracks, looking up. “Bastards!”
David saw three cables—he recognized them as the cables used on the winches—hanging from above, and two ladders leading upward. But there was no opening.
“They’ve sealed off the entrance!” the general shouted angrily.
The cables and the ladders disappeared into the rounded ceiling.
“Two and a half minutes, sir!”
“Damn. Starting digging!” General Wilson ordered.
The men stepped forward and started digging like mad with their hands and the butts of their guns. But David knew it was hopeless. There was no way they could reach the surface before the explosion.
Linda squeezed his shoulders from behind. He turned and looked up at her puffy red eyes. She was crying; there was resignation in her face.
“There’s gotta be a way out!” David hissed, looking desperately around the tunnel. It was entirely closed. David couldn’t even find a crevice that opened to the outside.
He spotted something on the ground. Something oval-shaped . . .
“General!” David shouted, realizing it was a laser pod. He dashed forward and swept it into his hands.
The general and Curtis turned to David.
“I saw them digging with one of these!” David said. “It burns through the ground.”
Curtis took the pod and examined it. There was an opening in the back; he tried to slip his hand in, but the opening was too small.
“Let me try!” David took the pod from Curtis. It was heavy and the surface was lumpy, like a gourd. He pressed his fingers together and slid his hand through the opening. The pod was wet inside and slippery; the walls seemed to tug at David’s hand, pulling it in.
It’s alive, he thought, wincing.
In the center, Da
vid curled his forefinger around what felt like a chicken bone.
“I think I found the trigger!”
Curtis put a hand on each side of the pod and aimed it at the wall, nodding for David to fire.
He pulled back on the trigger.
Nothing happened.
“Wait a sec . . .” David found a slot on top of the pod, reached the thumb and forefinger of his free hand through the thick skin, and pulled out a black, charred rectangular object. “It was copper!” he said. “I saw them put it in. That’s why they took my pennies—they want copper! For energy or something!”
“Maybe a penny would work,” Curtis said.
“Shoot!” David stomped a foot. “I used to have a whole bag!”
“Who has a penny?” General Wilson roared, his face scrunched up, wrinkles cutting across his forehead.
The men began searching their pockets.
“Don’t carry loose change into combat,” one of them muttered.
“One minute fifteen seconds, sir!”
David closed his eyes as his dad’s voice echoed softly in his memory: Here, a fifty-eight-D in mint condition. I’ll leave it for you here in your shirt pocket . . . shirt pocket . . .
“Here!” David yelped, fumbling his fingers into his shirt pocket. He found the penny in its small plastic case, pulled it out, and jabbed it into the slot. While Curtis held the pod, David squeezed.
The front of the pod opened with a sticky sound and the copper beam sliced into the wall. Dirt began to fall away. A large spot began to glow a burning red, then white, bubbling as it melted and spread. With a heavy thud, the spot fell away. Dirt and rocks crumbled out of the opening. Fresh air poured into the forty-five degree incline.
“Everybody out!” the general shouted, ushering David up through the hole.
“David . . .”
He stopped and turned at the familiar voice, stepping away from the hole to look back down the tunnel. Smoke was billowing from the direction of the ship. From the dirty white cloud emerged a figure, its arms outstretched.
“Mom!”
“David, come on!” Linda called as Captain Curtis helped her through the hole.
