by Darrell Bain
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Savage Survival
by Darrell Bain
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Science Fiction
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Double Dragon Publishing
www.double-dragon-ebooks.com
Copyright ©2005 by Darrell Bain
Double Dragon Publishing 2005
NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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Savage Survival
Copyright © 2005 Darrell Bain
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Double Dragon eBooks, a division of Double Dragon Publishing Inc., Markham, Ontario Canada.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from Double Dragon Publishing.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Double Dragon eBook
Published by
Double Dragon Publishing, Inc.
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ISBN: 1-55404-229-1
A DDP First Edition April 25, 2005
Book Layout and
Cover Art by Deron Douglas
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CHAPTER ONE
Her parents were scared; horribly scared. Eleven year old Lyda Brightner could tell that much by how white and strained their faces were, by the way they tried to keep her away from the viewscreen in the den where they had been practically living for the last few days. They would only leave for short breaks and even then, wear the earpieces so they could follow what was happening. It was a war, an invasion; she was pretty sure of that from the little snippets of news she had heard when peeking into the den, and from conversations with the few friends she had been able to talk to. Mostly, the phone lines were always either busy or made strange crackling sounds like bacon grease popping in a hot skillet. It must be bad from the way Mom and Dad are acting, she thought. And there had been no school this morning; that was the real signal, because always before, there was an explanation, like a tornado or storms or a terrorist threat. This time, nothing had been said except she was to stay home and do her lessons in her room. She had done that, and now she was bored with the rest of the day stretching out before her like a deserted playground. Not even a new book to read on her computer or on the phone.
Lyda stood by the doorless entrance to the den, trying to turn herself into a small, quiet animal that wouldn't be noticed. A rabbit, like in Watership Down, she thought. No one notices a rabbit. She closed her eyes and envisioned herself huddled down in the grass, a little white bunny with ears laid flat so they wouldn't peek out and give her away. It seemed to be working because for a while, she stood and watched and listened, her presence undetected.
At first, she didn't understand what she was seeing; she thought Mom and Dad must be watching a monster movie. Bright silvery spiderlike constructs crawled on multiple legs across a landscape of loose rubble and debris while little ant beings scurried to get out of their way. Then it popped into perspective. The rubble was the ruins of buildings; the ants were people trying to avoid ... being eaten? That was what it looked like at first, but then she realized the people were being herded, with the spider things acting like cowboys on horses, or sheepdogs working a flock. The silvery spiders were nothing to fool with; she could see that. Anyone who tried to fight or run the wrong way was killed gruesomely by mandiblelike appendages that pierced bodies like giant needles stitching clothes on puppets.
Periodically, a long broad tongue of blue fire would lash out from an opening among the multiple sets of mandibles adorning the front of the spiders and sweep a path through the crowds of people running frantically over the debris-strewn streets. Whenever the band of energy touched a person, bluish lightning flared and the figures would go limp for a moment, crash to the ground, then get up and run even faster than before—if they were able. Some weren't and were ignored or stepped on and crushed by the multiple-jointed appendages supporting the spiders. In a few moments, out would come the tongue of energy again, touching more people with its blue lightning and hurrying them along like an extra powerful cattle prod. But where were they going? Why were they being chased and harassed like gangs of vermin?
The mandibles of the creature moved constantly, opening and closing as if seeking something to bite, though nothing except humans who chose to fight ever came within their grasp. Other appendages waved in a roving pattern below the mandibles, touching the ground, dead bodies, ruined vehicles, poking into shattered doorways. Whiskers, she thought. They're like the whiskers of a cat, telling it what's near.
The whole scene was awesomely frightening, but so fascinating, she couldn't look away. Lyda thought it must be real, not only because of the way her parents were staring so fearfully, but because the colors weren't as bright as animations and the movements of the spidery beings and the humans were too smooth and natural looking. But if it were real...
“Lyda! What are you doing here?"
Lyda jumped guiltily. Mom and Dad were both staring at her like she had done something bad. “I only wanted to watch."
“This is nothing someone your age should see,” Dad said sternly. He cut off the sound and picture, leaving only the earpiece to provide him a feed.
“Your dad is right, honey,” Mom said. “It isn't necessary for you to see such ... such..."
“It's real, isn't it?” Lyda asked, already knowing it was. She loved her parents. Sometimes they were even cool, but they still tried to treat her like a little girl and she wasn't that little anymore. She was eleven now, going on twelve.
Mom and Dad looked at each other from where they were seated side by side on the big leather couch.
Dad sighed, as if releasing a terrible burden from inside his body. “Yes, sweetie, it is real, but we're not in any danger yet. Maybe the military will...” His voice trailed off.
Lyda thought if the military was going to do something, it ought to get started—if that scene she had been looking at was any indication. She took a few hesitant steps into the den, the toes of her bare feet curling into the carpet. “What are those spider thingys? Are they aliens from outer space?"
Abruptly, Mom burst into tears. Dad put his arm around her and patted her shoulder. From around the tangle of Mom's bright red curls, the exact same shade as her own, Dad said, “I guess so. Yes, they must be. But, Lyda..."
“Daddy, I should watch with you. How else will I know what to do if they come here?"
Mom raised her head. “They won't come here. Will they, Bruce? Why doesn't the military bomb them or something?"
“I don't know. Maybe too many of our people are being held captive. Anyway, they already have. It didn't work."
“It looked like those spider things were eating people,” Lyda said, taking another step inside. She hadn't actually seen anyone being eaten, and wasn't sure she wanted to in any case, but she had seen a few people being skewered b
y the thin silvery mandibles before Dad cut off the program.
“No, we don't think anyone is being eaten, Lyda baby.” Dad tried to chuckle but it didn't come out like that; it was a gurgling sound Lyda had never heard him make before.
“Then what are they doing with them?"
Again her parents looked at each other rather than at her. Was there something more terrible than being killed, or maybe eaten later, happening to the people she had seen? What could be worse than that?
“Lyda..."
Dad sighed again. “Elaine, she may as well stay with us. We can always cut the picture if it gets too gruesome. And we need to tell her."
“Tell me what?” Curiosity was replacing her fright now. She felt her heart beat faster. Mom and Dad always tried to answer her questions and be honest with her, unlike the parents of some of her friends; they just didn't want her to be exposed to graphic violence or sex yet. They thought she was too young. Lyda always felt guilty when the subject came up. She had already seen plenty; little flash drives and printouts from books passed around from kid to kid; images on her cell phone; movies at her friends’ homes she wasn't allowed to watch in her own; graphic color prints that were sometimes freaky and gross but interesting all the same. She suspected that Dad, at least, knew she sometimes had access to things he would rather her not see, but he pretended she didn't.
“The people you saw the spiders chasing aren't going to be eaten. They're being transferred to big camps out west. We've seen images from space."
Lyda took the last few steps to the couch and wormed her way in between the elder Brightners. She drew a grudging smile from both of them and this time, it was Lyda who sighed. Finally, she was going to find out exactly what was happening!
* * * *
Bruce Brightner thought about how much he should tell Lyda. He realized that both he and Elaine were perhaps a bit overprotective of their only child, but it was perfectly natural. She was a prodigy, absorbing knowledge almost effortlessly. Even so, she was still an eleven year old girl, emotionally immature as yet, he thought, even though she had more sense than most girls her age. The other reason he kept a close watch on her was because she was beautiful; at least he thought so. Her startlingly red hair fell in natural wavy curls to below her shoulders. She was bereft of the freckles her mother was prone to, leaving her with an even-featured elfin face that would become regal and extremely attractive as she changed from a girl to a young woman.
“Sweetheart, all of earth has been invaded by beings from somewhere else. I guess from outer space is as good a description as any. We don't think those spider things are the actual aliens; they're simply mechanical constructs being used to round up humans and perhaps for other purposes we don't know as of yet."
“Did the spiders ruin all those buildings, or did the aliens do it?” Lyda wanted to know.
“It wasn't them; we were the ones who caused most of the damage. We tried bombing them, but bombs don't seem to harm them at all. They don't seem to care what we do, unless we oppose them. It appears that it's live humans they want."
“Bruce...” Elaine warned.
“Well, it's the truth. That's all they've done so far, simply used their mechanicals to round up enormous numbers of people from all over earth. Lyda, they herd them into cul-de-sacs like you just saw, then force them into flying machines. After that, they're transported to other locations in bigger flying things. You'll see that soon if we keep watching."
“What happens then, Daddy?"
“She surely doesn't need to know any more right now, Bruce. Let it be."
“Well..."
“Besides, we don't really know much else, do we?"
“Actually, no. We can't see much of what's happening in the camps. So how about putting some frozen pizza on for supper? We can eat here."
“All right. You be careful now. Lyda doesn't need to see some of that stuff.” Mrs. Brightner left the den.
Lyda cuddled closer to her dad. “Can we watch some more, Daddy?"
Mr. Brightner zapped the picture and sound back on. The same vista was still being broadcast. This time, she did see one of the flyers. It was simply a rounded, oblong shape with an oval entrance that irised open for shrieking men, women and children, then closed with a blink when it was full or wanted to go elsewhere.
“Where is this happening, Daddy? Have they said?"
“This is Atlanta, I believe, but it really doesn't matter, baby. It's happening just like this everywhere in the world."
“Even in the country?"
Mister Brightner realized he had said more than he intended to. “Well, yes, but not around here. Not yet, anyway. Let's not tell Mom I said that, okay?” Bruce Brightner knew that armies of the mechanicals were roaming almost every part of earth by now, always seeking out humans. What he hadn't told Lyda was that in many places, huge numbers of bodies were turning up from people simply being killed after capture. No one knew why. What he did know was that he intended to protect his wife and daughter if he could.
Lyda smiled and nodded at Dad, barely hearing. Her eyes were tracking the scenes on the big screen with a fascination usually reserved for special programs on the learning channel, ones that dealt with how things worked or astronomy and space flight. Already she had aspirations to become an astronaut; not a pilot, but a science specialist. Her parents thought it might be a hero worship thing but Lyda knew it wasn't. Someday, she would go into space and study the stars. Or she had intended to before this happened.
On the screen, the view changed to the president. Lyda thought he was handsome, but kind of dumb. Dad said most politicians were dumb and even if they weren't, they had to act that way to get elected. She didn't understand that, but she had little interest in politics. Nevertheless, Lyda remained quiet while the president was speaking because Dad appeared to be very interested in what he was saying at first. Soon though, his expression became disgusted.
“He's lying,” Lyda's father said. “We're not in contact with the damn things. They don't want to negotiate.” He switched to a local channel.
“Why is he lying, Daddy?” Lyda asked. She didn't understand that either. Shouldn't the president always tell the truth?
“He's trying to reassure people I guess, but that's not the way to do it."
The newswoman on the local channel looked very distraught. She was reading from a list rather than a teleprompter and it showed. “...supplies of food in the cities of Lufkin and Nacogdoches are to be rationed beginning Tuesday morning. Governor Prester has..."
“Shouldn't we be seeing about some extra food supplies?” Mom asked as she came back into the den, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “We really don't have much here."
“You're probably right. I should have done that earlier. I'll go as soon as we finish eating."
Lyda looked to her Dad, her eyes pleading for permission to go along. Her unasked question became moot as the screen altered the view once again. It showed an oblong, dirigible looking shape stretched across both sides of the freeway separating Lufkin from Nacogdoches and spilling into the woods on each side. It was huge. Emerging spider mechs looked like tiny bugs next to it. As they watched, several smaller flyers like the one she had seen earlier touched down along the sides of the big one and appeared to merge into it.
The local anchor began talking extemporaneously, and was doing a bad job of it. Her hands were visibly shaking. “...just in. One of the alien's larger transport craft has landed along Highway 59 between Lufkin and Nacogdoches. Many of the mechanical spiders of different sizes, like in ... they have emerged and are marching ... going in different ways, uh, directions, but most of them appear to be trying, I mean heading, toward the cities, Lufkin and Nacogdoches, that is. They ... littler flyers are uh, being absorbed, uh landing ... on..."
The picture burst into static and tiny squares of distorted color, then the screen went blank. A window appeared, announcing the satellite link had failed.
Lyda sat very still, pretending
to be a rabbit again, hoping not to be ordered from the den while her father searched frantically among other channels for more information. Their home was located on a county road only a few miles off the corridor between the two east Texas cities. Many other channels were broadcasting the same signal, satellite link failure. Finally, he gave up, grew thoughtful and found an old radio on one of the bookshelves. It wouldn't work; the batteries were dead. He used some words Lyda had very seldom heard him utter. “I'm going to find some batteries,” he said. “Stay here, hon."
Mom had sat down. She was staring at the big screen as if her intense gaze could repair the satellite link. It didn't.
“How long will it take the spiders to get here?” Lyda asked.
Her mother didn't answer. She simply stared. Lyda wondered if she had gone into shock.
From the bedroom next to the den, there came a noise Lyda had heard before, the unmistakable slack-slack of a round being chambered in Dad's shotgun he used for duck hunting every year. Lyda didn't think a shotgun would be of much use if bombs didn't work, but she didn't tell Dad that when he returned to the den, bearing the weapon in a tight-knuckled grip.
“Daddy, how long until the spiders get here?” Lyda repeated her question. Her mother still hadn't answered.
He shook his head as he began opening up the radio. “Maybe they won't come here,” was all he said.
Lyda thought of that huge craft, obviously the kind Dad had been talking about. She remembered that it had only been three days since the invasion began and already many humans had been transported to the desert camps. The spiders probably moved fast, she thought. And they were coming here!
The spiderlike constructs did move quickly. Lyda had finished her share of the pizza, brushed her teeth and was waiting hopefully near the door as Dad picked his car keys off the hallway table, apparently deciding he needed to run an errand after all, probably over to the little store on the highway intersection. Lyda quickly shrugged into her windbreaker and flip-flops, but before she could even begin to ask him to go along, a noise from outside distracted him. He hurried to the entrance and opened the door.
