INCURSION - an ALIEN OMNIBUS

by Chris Lowry

“I ain't going in there.”

  “Yeah,” said Dawes. “Good idea. It's probably safer in here.”

  But the darkness beckoned. Dawes took a tentative step over the threshold. Nothing happened. He didn't explode, nothing jumped out of the darkness to grab him.

  Curiosity won out and he leaned to take the next step out.

  Carver grabbed him by the suit and dragged him back in.

  “It's all true, right? Everything that man said. I didn't believe him at first. I thought he was full of shit. Even when we were floating through space I still thought it. No way, right man. But he's right. There's a big ass ship and it's got another ship on it and that means there are aliens in there and we're supposed to fight them and I don't want to to fight because I ain't really good at it and I don't really want to do it-”

  Dawes slapped him. Carver grabbed his lapels and yanked him nose to nose.

  “Fool!” Carver shouted. “You trying to get yourself killed.”

  “There it is,” Dawes smiled and clapped him on the shoulders. “That's what I'm talking about.”

  “Alright then,” said Carver as he regained his composure, shrugging off the slap with a view askance at the cowboy.

  “We good?”

  “Yeah man, just don't be slapping me and shit. That gets me pissed, and trust me, you won't like me when I'm pissed.”

  “Like Leroy Brown.”

  “You're starting to piss me off.”

  “Am I?” asked Dawes. “Good. Cause you know those aliens?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you think they heard us land?”

  “What do I look like? 411?”

  “If they heard us land, do you think they would come to check it out?”

  “Shit,” Carver exhaled.

  “It's easier to hide out there,” Dawes pointed to the dark interior. “It's a big ship. Lots of little places.”

  He pointed to the shuttle.

  “Here, little ship. There, big ship. Big ship. Little ship.”

  Carver glanced back into the tight confines of the shuttle and then out into the dark expanse of the corridor.

  “I ain't staying in here.”

  Dawes started out into the corridor. Carver brought him up short again.

  “What?”

  Carver pointed to a glass sheathed cabinet with a plasma rifle resting inside. It's made from a metal alloy, lightweight and fully charged according to the light meter on the battery pack. It looked like water guns designed by a mad scientist. A scientist who was really mad at aliens trying to invade earth.

  “You think we ought to take that?” Carver asked.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Two figures shuffled up the dark corridor as they searched for the interior of the ship. The smooth walls are slick an unadorned, hiding a network of pipes, wires and cables. A giant letter F is painted at an intersection of corridors.

  “This is surprisingly big for a space ship,” Dawes whispered.

  “What the hell did you expect? A fucking cruise ship?”

  “Yeah exactly,” Dawes nodded as they crossed into a new corridor and kept following the low-level LED lights in the floor every dozen meters.

  “I expected something built like we build ships for the Navy or a submarine, you know. Tight quarters, cramped, mostly engine and ammunition. This is huge.”

  “Don't you remember what we saw outside? This mother is huge.”

  Carver clings to Dawes spacesuit, partially not to get lost and partially because he's the one with the rifle. If something comes out of the dark at them, Dawes would be the one to shoot it. He would also be the one the aliens would eat while Carver took off for the shuttle, but he didn't share that information with his partner.

  “What are we looking for?” he asked.

  “I think he said find the crew.”

  “You think this ship can talk? Like on that TV show? Star Track?”

  Dawes stopped. Carver bumped up against the back of him.

  “Damn it man! Warn a brother when you do that.”

  Dawes holds up his hand as he attempted to listen to the silence that echoed down the corridor.

  “What?”

  “Shh.”

  “Don't shush me mother fucker,” Carver said. “I know how to be quiet.”

  “You want those aliens to find us?”

  “I'm starting to think there ain't no aliens. We been walking up and down this goddamn ship for half an hour and we ain't seen nothing. They probably just made them up.”

  “Yeah, you're probably right.” Dawes barely paid attention to Carver, just letting him talk.

  “Of course I'm right,” the man continued. “If there was aliens taking over this ship, don't you think they would have found us by now? Come out of somewhere and tried to kill us or something?”

  Dawes felt keyed up. Something in the air maybe. He couldn't be sure. On earth, he could feel when something was off, like being picked up while hitching by someone who wanted a favor in return. Sometimes it was a blow job they asked for or one time help in burying a dead body in a field, but whenever he felt that instinct kick in, he knew it was time to get gone. He just wished the feeling came sooner so he didn't have to deal with the requests.

  But it had saved him before.

  He opened a Buick door in Tulsa once and got the heebie jeebies. The middle-aged man behind the wheel looked like an accountant and smiled like the Pope. Dawes changed his mind, walked away and found out the guy was the notorious I-40 killer responsible for hundreds of deaths along the corridor.

  His gut was kicking up right now.

  Any moment, an alien would pop out of the woodwork and try to eat them. Or shoot them. Though technically it was metalwork, and he did have a rifle so there was that.

  “It makes sense,” he told Carver just to humor him.

  “If we go to where the crew sleeps, I bet we find them all sleeping or something. Do you smell that?”

  He sniffed the air with the tip of his nose and Dawes did the same. He did smell something.

  “I smell something, smells like...moonshine. My Granddaddy used to make moonshine in the backyard. See, I know what happened up here. Someone done made some hooch. Some space hooch and they're all drunk and passed out on the floor. We just got to go find them.”

  “I think it's this way,” Dawes led him up the corridor.

  He took a dozen steps and turned around. Carver was standing there watching him walk away.

  “Go on,” Carver said. “I'm right behind you. Don't be scared.”

  Dawes took a few more steps and looked back. Carver was still standing there. He waved him forward with a desperate motion and the man finally started following him.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Six aliens stood on the bridge of the Lucas and studied the unfamiliar set up. One alien was on his back, head and hands in an open panel as he worked through the wiring trying to determine how it was configured.

  One of the aliens towered over the others. His alligator scales were rough and textured, painted with chieftain markings that designated him overlord of this scouting party. They called him Budge, though his name was longer in their native tongue, a clicking hissing sound that grated on the human ear.

  Budge watched the alien work at engineering the ship to their specifications while two lower guards clicked and clattered behind him. He tired of their banter and reached out to slap both on the back of the head.

  They growled at him and Budge drew himself to his full height, easily a head taller than the nine foot guards. They bowed and shuffled off the bridge.

  Budge turned to the Captain's chair in the middle of the view screen and ran one of his claws along the cushion. He settled his humanoid body into the seat and gargled in satisfaction.

  He coughed an order to the others as the engineer made a victorious yelp. Lights flickered on the bridge bathing the aliens in a strobe effect. Budge roared.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lights flickered in the corridor
in a strobing yellow gloom.

  Carver scooted up to Dawes.

  “Hey man, I gotta get out of this suit.”

  Dawes concentrated on the corridor in front of them. The strobe lights were making it hard to distinguish anything and his gut was screaming at him.

  “I think we keep the Suits on,” he whispered.

  “No you don't understand,” said Carver. “I got to use the bathroom.”

  Dawes stopped. Was that why his gut was screaming too? He took a moment to access, but no, he was empty.

  “I think the Suit is set up for that,” he told Carver.

  “What do you mean? I got to go boo boo. You want me to boo boo in my Suit? I can't do that, I've got to take it off.”

  “We don't have time,” said Dawes.

  He sneaked further up the corridor. Carver hustled to catch up. Sneaking was difficult since he was having trouble walking.

  “We got to make time. I'm going to start having some serious problems in about a minute and let me tell you, if I've got a problem you're gonna have a problem.”

  “How is it my problem?” Dawes asked.

  “Cause I'm gonna make it your problem.”

  Dawes stopped and turned on him.

  “Look partner, what are you going to do? You gonna shit in my Suit?”

  Carver stepped in closer, almost touched Dawes' nose with his own, the classic schoolyard standoff.

  “I might kick the shit right out of you,” he said in his best tough guy voice. “How would you feel about that?”

  “Shitty,” Dawes cracked a smile.

  “Ha, ha very funny motherfucker. Now help a brother find a bathroom.”

  He pushed past Dawes, shoved him with one shoulder as he took the lead down the corridor, his eyes scanning for any sign that they were near a toilet.

  “Why don't they put signs on this fucking ship?” he groaned.

  “Hey Carver,” Dawes called from several steps back.

  “What?” he fidgeted.

  “Why do you take the whole Suit off?”

  “What? Shut up.”

  “I mean, most guys would just bunch it up around the ankles. That's what I do.”

  Carver was dancing up the corridor in a stiff legged walk that minimized movement below his waist. One hand gripped the front of his Suit, the other held out for balance.

  “Cause man, I just can't.”

  “Can't what.”

  “I can't use the bathroom with my clothes on,” he called back over his shoulder. “I got to take them all off. Been like that since I was a kid.”

  Dawes skipped to catch up. The peg leg walk looked funny but it was like Carver was speed walking and he covered ground fast.

  “I bet you were Mr. Popular in the boy's room at school.”

  “Fuck you. The Men's room.”

  “Did anyone ever steal your pants?”

  “Don't you understand shut up, man? I'm trying to concentrate here. Want me to spell it for you?”

  “Concentrate or shut up?”

  “Fuck you man,” Carver's voice pitched up two octaves as his head flicked back and forth searching.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dawes leaned against the metal corridor wall and checked his wrist for an absent watch. He pushed off to pace back and forth and settled back against the wall again. His lip curled in disgust.

  “Carver, turn on the vent,” he called out.

  “How do you flush this thing?” Carver called out from behind a wall panel.

  “Press the button.”

  An alarm blared through the hallway, the klaxon sound ringing in their ears as Carver fell out of the small stall in the wall tugging his Suit back on. Swirling red lights twirled in the ceiling.

  “What button did you press?” Dawes screamed as he jogged with his rifle.

  Carver bounced to keep up and get dressed at the same time.

  “Man, I didn't press nothing. You probably set it off leaning against something.”

  “I wasn't the one pressing things.”

  “Are you sure that was a toilet man?” Carver asked with wide eyes. “I mean, on a ship you know and it didn't look like a normal toilet. What if I took a boo boo in the Captain's sink or something?”

  Carver and Dawes rushed down the long corridor under the red lights.

  “If you didn't press nothing and I didn't press nothing then somethings done set these alarms off.”

  “Wait a minute,” Dawes drew them up shy of an intersection and slowed them to a sneaky crawl. “Are you telling me you just left it in the bowl.”

  “Oh shit,” said Carver.

  “Yeah,” Dawes agreed. “Your shit. In a bowl. For someone else to clean up. I really hate guys like you-”

  Carver froze and pointed up the corridor. Dawes followed his outstretched finger and spied the two Alien Guards standing at the intersection.

  One raised his arm and pointed back. They looked as shocked as Carver.

  “Shit,” said Dawes.

  “That's what I said,” Carver agreed.

  The nine foot aliens with lizard heads and alligator skin bolted toward Carver and Dawes.

  The two men turn tail and run. The aliens are taller and gain ground quickly.

  “What the hell man!” Carver screamed.

  “I think that's why we're here,” Dawes shouted.

  They hit another intersection. Carver slid into a turn going left. Dawes hit the wall and bounced off, juggling the gun and keeping up.

  Carver reached another intersection marked M and took the corner at speed. He collided into two more Aliens and the three went down in a tumble of arms, elbows and knees. Carve screamed and the aliens screeched.

  Dawes took this corner better than the last one. He scooped up Carver by the arm and dragged him free of the scrum. One of the aliens latched onto his ankle with a clawed iron like grip. Carver screamed.

  “Oh shit, he's got me! Help he's got me.”

  Dawes kicked the alien in the face. It opened its snout and snapped at his foot with razor sharp teeth. The second alien extracted himself from the pile and pushed himself up the wall to his full nine feet.

  Dawes reversed the grip on the rifle and swung it like a golf club into the downed aliens head. Something cracked and it let go.

  The two men ran further down the corridor as the first two aliens came around the corner and tripped over their broken and bleeding comrade. They went down in a heap.

  “Shoot them. You got a gun. Shoot them mother fuckers!” Carver screamed in a breathless shout.

  “We have to find a place to hide.”

  “Hide Hell! Shoot them!”

  The ran past a small narrow cargo door jammed open with the edge of a box. Dawes slid to a stop, falling on his bottom, and Carver kept going.

  “Carver!” he shouted and crab crawled through the hole.

  Carver dove in beside him and they cowered near the back as three sets of alien legs ran past their hiding spot.

  “Somebody want to tell me what the hell this is all about?” Carver whispered.

  “I don't know.”

  “What do you mean you don't know? You read the damn briefs.”

  “I didn't read the briefs.”

  “You didn't read the briefs”

  “No, I didn't,” Dawes confessed. “It was boring. There were a lot of big words and lots of technical stuff.”

  “I told you to read the briefs,” Carver chastised. “I get you wish like hell you would have read some of that technical stuff now?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Next time you say you're gonna read the briefs, you better damn well read them. I swear to God you rednecks must be the dumbest-”

  “I'm sorry, alright.”

  “Sorry? Sorry! Sorry don't get us out of this shit now does it.”

  “Give me a minute to think.”

  He put his head between his hands as if he could squeeze a thought through.

  “What?” Carver interrupted. “What y
ou gonna think up? You gonna just all of the sudden know something? What do you call it? Technical? Do you even know how to use the gun?”

  “I know how to shoot,” Dawes growled.

  “Then why didn't you shoot those alien mother fuckers? I told you to shoot them. I told you to read the briefs, but no, you don't read the briefs. I tell you to shoot them aliens, but no, you don't shoot the aliens. Give me that damn gun.”

  Dawes gripped the gun to his chest.

  “You're not getting this gun.”

  “Boy, you better give me that gun.”

  Carver made a grab for the rifle. Dawes jerked it out of his reach. They bumped together as they wrestled for possession of the weapon. They spun out of the small cargo hold and into the corridor.

  Carver got on top and wrested the gun away from Dawes.

  “Fight me? You don't fight me. I am king of the hill.”

  Dawes bucked him off and rolled over to grab the gun. They both froze as they noticed the three alien guards standing in the corridor watching them.

  “You take the gun,” said Carver.

  “No, you hang on to it.”

  He shoved the rifle back toward him. It fell between them, landing on the floor in a loud metal rattle.

  Carver and Dawes exchanged glances and looked over toward the aliens. Their lizard lips split in what could universally be known as evil grins. Dawes ran up the corridor, his footsteps slapping on the metal at a sprinters pace. Carver caught up and passed him.

  “If you ain't gonna run, get out of the way.”

  They tore down the corridor chased by a trio of nine-foot-tall monsters.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Carver listened to the sucking splat sound the alien's feet made on the metal floor and glanced over his shoulder. Just behind Dawes' panicked face, the three monsters were gaining on them. Their longer legs and stride was just too fast. They were going to catch up in just a few seconds.

  Maybe he'd gain some ground while they ate Dawes, he thought. But the stitch starting in his side was going to slow him down. The cramp tried to seize up and steal his breath, but he fought through it with pure adrenaline. He didn't want this momma’s boy to be dinner for some freaky lizard looking people.