A Rage for Revenge watc-3

by David Gerrold

  "Come on, you bastard!" I challenged it again. It was still out of range. I couldn't drive and fire the torch at the same time. The worm couldn't attack. It was a standoff.

  It couldn't last. Sooner or later, the others would come around that curve. I didn't think I could burn three worms at once.

  I heard footsteps behind me. Before I could turn and look, Little Ivy was sliding into the driver's seat of the Jeep. "Move over," she said.

  I grabbed hold of the top of the windshield and braced myself. "Go slow," I said.

  She eased the Jeep forward. The Chtorran began backing up. She increased our speed. I steadied myself and braced the torch. I would only get one shot here.

  The worm reared up abruptly, issuing its challenge. "Chtorrrrr! Chtorrr!" Then, it came down flowing.

  I burned it before it hit the ground. The jet licked out and touched the purple and red horror. The flames exploded around its body. The creature raised up again, whirled in the air and came down writhing and twisting across the road. Its screams were horrible. It was like watching a man die!

  And then it wasn't alive anymore, just a burning thing, greasy and rubbery and sending huge clouds of black smoke into the air. "All right, let's go!" I pointed to the road beyond the worm. Little Ivy backed up so she could go around it-and saved our lives. The grenade carved a hole in the street where the Jeep had been. I saw the flash-was slammed down in my seat by the concussion-felt the Jeep lift off the ground, then drop back-felt the gravel and pieces of road spatter down from the sky.

  Four men and three women were just running around the curve. Two Chtorrans were moving with them. They were a perfect skirmish line. For a moment I could only admire the military beauty of the operation. Humans and Chtorrans together-the effect was devastating.

  Then-moving automatically, I was standing again with the torch-I was still too dazed from the grenade to be conscious. They saw me and scattered sideways.

  Another Chtorran came around the curve then, and four more humans. I recognized the Chtorran. I don't know how I knew-whether it was his shape or his coloring or the way he moved-but it was Orrie. And the humans. I recognized Marcie. And Delandro.

  Marcie was carrying a rocket launcher. She went down on one knee

  Little Ivy was already backing the Jeep. She swerved and the burning Chtorran was between us. Our view was obscured by the cloud of greasy smoke.

  Ivy put the Jeep into forward and pointed it into the park. She stood on the pedal and we leapt over the curb and down the slope. Something exploded behind us. I had a glimpse of trees splintering and flying through the air. I hung on for my life. We bounced and skidded across the grass and into the stream, then up the opposite side. I looked back; I couldn't see them any more.

  I pointed ahead. "Head for the road. We'll come around behind them- " I scrambled around to try to reach the grenade launcher in the back of the Jeep.

  We bounced up onto the pavement again. There were bodies lying in the street. There was red blood flowing in the gutters, pooling into dark puddles. There were children standing, dazed or crying. There were people running. We skidded around them and kept going, around the south loop, around the curve, past the burning Chtorran again.

  They were heading northward-up toward my house-where Holly was locked in a closet! I fired the first grenade at the fat Chtorran in the rear. The explosion sent it flying, tumbling, rolling across the lawns. The explosion scattered the humans. Two went down. The others broke for the trees and the park.

  They were met by a hail of gunfire. I saw Jack and Dove step from the trees, each carrying an AM-280. The laser beams stabbed and pointed. The guns burped molten fire and carved holes in the men and Chtotrans they touched. Two more renegades fell.

  And then Orrie was upon them. He fell across Jack and leapt for Dove. I didn't see what happened next. The renegades charged into the trees after Orrie.

  The last huge Chiorran was just whirling around to charge toward me. He raised up for a challenge. I fired the second grenade, but the shot was low, the explosion went off in the street. The concussion hurled the Chtorran backward, knocking it ass over teakettle and slamming it into a house. My house. Windows shattered.

  The first Chtorran was getting up now. Black blood was flowing from its wounds. It was limping across the street toward the safety of the park. I fired the third grenade; it imbedded itself into the Chtorran flesh and there was a muffled thump. For just a second, the Chtorran seemed to puff out, then it disappeared in a ball of flame.

  There were two more grenades. I sighted on the last Chtorran again, it was peeling itself off the wall. The Jeep hit a blast hole in the road and the grenade went wild, exploding the roof off the rear of the house. The Chtorran charged for the trees and was gone.

  "Go after them!" I pointed. Little Ivy said something I didn't catch. I looked at her. Blood was dripping down her face and shirt. When had that happened? "Go on!" I screamed at her.

  She gulped and drove. We bounced up and over the curb and down into the park again. We slid and skidded down the slope, carving up the grass and trees. Two robot gardeners were trying to mow across a path of chewed up ground where an injured Chtorran had dragged part of itself. We careened into one of the robots and sent it spinning across the grass and into the stream. We slid to a halt

  "Which way?"

  I pointed ahead-

  The Jeep lurched and slid. I saw something purple. I fired the last grenade-the explosion was a ball of orange that toppled trees and left a smoking crater that we had to swerve around-I'd missed the worm.

  They plunged down the slope ahead of us-Oh, God!-there were children still at the swimming hole. They were clustered together, naked, by the big rock, all huddled and scared looking.

  Orrie hit them like a torpedo. The bodies went under him like kindling wood. Their screams were horrible. I held my fire. The humans went charging after Orrie, leaping over small bloody bodies. Little Ivy was swearing next to me, a stream of invective that would shatter glass. Still I held my fire. The second Chtorran disappeared over the rocks after its companion.

  Little Ivy let the Jeep slide to a halt before the carnage. She leapt out and ran to the children. Shit. Just when we had them. I slid over into the driver's seat and stood on the pedal. The Jeep skidded out and I went around the big rocks. Something exploded behind me. I came around the rock to see Marcie just standing up, the smoking launcher in her hands.

  I aimed the Jeep directly at her. She leapt sideways, the rocket launcher went spinning. The Jeep plunged into the water. I put it into reverse and tried to back up. A spume of water sprayed out from the wheels. I had to ease it out. I started swearing. Marcie was getting away. "Come on, Jeep!" I banged the dashboard. It leapt backward. "Thank you!"

  But the renegades were gone. The Chtorrans were gone. They'd disappeared into the thickest part of the park, where the Jeep couldn't follow.

  No problem. There was only one way out. And I was going to be waiting for them. I backed up, turned the Jeep around and headed for the street. I wasn't through. Not yet.

  The Jeep banged out of the park and skidded and swerved across the road. I pointed it north. There were people running toward me and pointing behind them. I couldn't hear what they were saying. I must have been deafened in one of the explosions. I recognized Birdie. There was blood streaming down her face. I waved her out of the way. I moved the Jeep ahead.

  There were more bodies here. My God-what had they done? It looked like there had been a killing rampage here-but I had seen those Chtorrans. I saw how they moved and reacted. This was no feeding frenzy. This had been deliberate. This had been punishment.

  This was the worst thing I'd ever seen.

  North-to the north end of the loop. They had to come out of the park there. And I'd be waiting for them. I couldn't hear the siren any more. Was it still going?

  I switched on the Jeep siren. There were more people heading south toward me on the road. I didn't want to slow down-I swerved to the
right and headed past them on the sidewalk. Then hack down on the street and around the curve.

  -and there they were, just disappearing over the crest of the hiking ridge! I hadn't been fast enough.

  I fired my rockets anyway. I blew the top of that hill away. I didn't know if I hit anything. I wasn't going up to look.

  And then there was silence.

  It was over. And there was no such place as Family any more.

  These poems have come out of my forehead.

  The subjects are all fairly torrid

  -except for the few

  that will make you say,

  "Pugh!" And those are the ones that are horrid.

  42

  Pavane for a Dead Infant

  "There is no such thing as a holy war."

  -SOLOMON SHORT

  I sat there in the Jeep until dusk. The day grew dark. The sun tipped into the ocean and lit the sea with yellow flames.

  I waited in the Jeep at the north end of the peninsula. I sat below the hiking ridge and listened to the sky.

  Anything that came down that hill tonight was going to die. If they realized how badly they'd really hurt us, they'd be back.

  I was ready for them.

  I sat and watched the sun melt into the sea, spreading a film of fire across the oily water.

  What was it Delandro had said? Why couldn't I get him out of my head? Oh, yes-transformation. He'd spoken of the process of transformation. He said it looked like fire. Energy flowed, it became unfocused. The old pattern had been destroyed. Now, we create a new pattern. We choose the pattern and create it. Creation is the act of pointing to what's possible, and by the act of distinction, it becomes an experience. The experience is the creation; everything after that follows as inevitably as the cars of a train follow the engine.

  Why did I remember that? Because I knew what he meant by transformation now. I'd transformed myself this afternoon. Delandro wasn't going to like this transformation. No, he wasn't.

  He was going to regret it bitterly. I promised that. The street lights glowed to life.

  The moths flickered around the lamps. Bait.

  Those lights were one more way we'd announced our presence to the world. To the Chtorrans.

  "Jim?"

  I looked up. It was B-Jay.

  "We need you. Come on down."

  I shook my head. "I have to stay here. Someone has to stand guard. "

  "It's all right, Jim. I called Santa Cruz. The military governor's been informed. They're sending out a Red Cross team. And soldiers are patrolling the road. Nothing else is getting on the peninsula tonight. You don't have to stand guard any more. You've been relieved."

  I looked at the torch in my hands.

  "Come on," she said, climbing into the Jeep. "Drive me back." I reached around and stowed the torch in the rear of the car. I turned the key and the Jeep whirred to life. There were a thousand things my mind wanted to say to B-Jay. But I didn't want to start it. I knew how that loop would go.

  We coasted slowly down the avenue. There were stains on the road. There were fallen trees. There was a house that had been blown apart. My house.

  I brought the Jeep to a stop. I climbed out.

  I moved like a zombie into the rubble. I went to the closet and unlocked it.

  Holly was curled into a tiny ball on the floor. She was surrounded by coats and sweaters and blankets, as if she had made a nest for herself.

  "Holly," I whispered. "I'm back. It's all right now. Come on, you can wake up." I pulled her into my arms and held her. She didn't uncurl. She was in a fetal position. Her eyes were tightly shut. Her face was curiously blank. I stroked her hair, smoothing it. I kissed her. "Come on, sweetheart. Wake up now."

  She didn't respond.

  I stood up and carried her out to the Jeep. I put her into B-Jay's Iap. I climbed back in the driver's side and eased the Jeep back into the road again. There were more stains, more fallen trees. There were craters in the pavement. The air still smelled of cordite.

  B-Jay pointed and I pulled the Jeep up in front of the gymnasium. It had been turned into a hospital. I took Holly from her and carried her in. I laid her down upon a wrestling mat. One of the other girls came up and put a blanket over her. I leaned down and kissed- my little girl. "I'm right here if you want me." I said to the girl who had brought the blanket. "Call me if she wakes."

  B-Jay took my arm then. "This way." She led me outside. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine."

  "You sound dead."

  "I am dead."

  She stopped me and looked into my face. "Jim, stop being a zombie. "

  "No. Let me be a zombie. It'll get me through this."

  She looked like she wanted to cry. She looked like she wanted me to grab her and hold her and give her a safe warm place to have her grief.

  I couldn't do that. I hated her too much. I hated all of them. They'd told me I could be safe here. And they had lied. Everybody lied. I couldn't be safe here. I couldn't be safe anywhere. How dare they lie to me! I couldn't forgive that easily. B-Jay sniffed and dabbed at one eye. She said, "We have a morgue in the assembly hall."

  "Tommy?"

  She shook her head. "He's still missing."

  "Alec?"

  "We have a body that could be him. The identification is still uncertain. "

  "Show me."

  "Are you sure you want to do this?"

  "He's my son." I started across the lawn. B-Jay gulped and hurried to follow.

  I stepped into the assembly hall. The chairs had been stacked hastily against the wall. In the center of the room, plastic tarpaulins had been laid out. Three rows of bodies had been laid across the plastic. White sheets draped the bodies.

  I stood there for a long moment. The reality of the moment pounded in my brain in waves of dizziness.

  A black boy, a teenager named Joe-Mary came up to us. "Who . . . ?" I managed to gasp and point.

  B-Jay said, "Jack and Dove. Little Ivy."

  "Little Ivy! But-I left her at the creek! With the children!"

  "The bastards threw a grenade at them."

  "Oh, God. Who else?"

  "Rita, Daddy Potts, Old Wag, Danny, Ida-George, Melanie."

  She stopped herself. She couldn't go on. She started weeping into her hands.

  I couldn't pity her. I walked away. I said to Joe-Mary. "Show me the one you think is Alec."

  He said, "You sure you want to see?"

  "Show me."

  He led me to a small white bundle. He pulled back the sheet. There was a torso. No head. One arm still attached. He'd been dismembered. The pieces had been ripped off of him like off a doll. Like a bear. Just like Bear. No head. Alec and Bear. Even to the last. I felt the burning come up in my eyes, the ache come up in my throat.

  "It's Alec. I recognize the birthmark on his side." The words came out like a croak. I couldn't speak any more. I ran for the door.

  I barely made it outside. I fell to my knees on the lawn and let my stomach heave. My chest spasmed, my throat convulsed, my back arched. I brought up nothing but bile.

  Betty-John came up behind me. She put her hand on my shoulder. "Jim, I'm sorry . . .

  "Fuck you! I don't want sympathy! Least of all yours!" I struggled to my feet and headed for the Jeep.

  "Jim! Where are you going?"

  "I'm going after the bastards who did this!" I said. I climbed into the Jeep and pointed it at the bridge. The tires screeched as I roared off toward Santa Cruz.

  Juanita, the subject of scandals,

  used to use unscented candles,

  but now thinks it nice

  to use a device

  with batteries, buzzers, and handles.

  43

  Eye in the Sky

  "Lightning is one hell of a murder weapon-and the best part is, it can't be traced."

  -SOLOMON SHORT

  I drove to the first public terminal I could find and logged on as Major Duke Anderson. I had his code number and I
had his password.

  Duke still had a clearance. Amazing. I accessed the West Coast Satellite Eyeball Reconnaissance file. I ordered a complete set of frames covering the last twenty-four hours.

  Maybe Jason was right. Maybe Jim McCarthy couldn't lift a weapon against the Tribe. But Major Duke Anderson certainly could. I just asked myself how Duke would handle this and bent to the terminal.

  I studied the wide-angle shot just long enough to locate Monterey Bay, then dialed down to the Santa Cruz area. Using the joystick, I centered on Family. The peninsula was a tiny dagger sticking southward. I dialed down on it, then moved forward in time to this afternoon. As the screen flashed through the framesthey had been taken one minute apart-the shadows shortened and pivoted and lengthened. Their angles changed as the Earth turned before the sun.

  There.

  At the north end of the peninsula, just below the hiking ridge, walking distance from the unfinished worm fence, a Jeep was parked. A man was sitting in it holding a torch.

  That was me. Guarding the barn after the horse was stolen.

  I moved back in time to the beginning of the attack.

  Four worms and thirteen humans came across the rocks, around the end of the fence, along the ridge and down the slope, where they entered the north end of the park.

  I moved the joystick and followed them through the park. Here on the west side was a group of children. There I was, just walking past them.

  There. The worms burst from the park. I paged through the frames.

  The worms plowed through the children.

  And I turned and ran for my Jeep. The worms turned south-

  - I moved forward in time.

  Someone in a van was battering at one of the worms with it. Three of the worms piled on the van and peeled it open.

  The fourth worm was already moving around the south curve, and facing a Jeep. There I was. There was Little Ivy. We burned the worm.