by Rod Little
George shrugged and holstered his gun.
Sam already had another idea. “Could you step back, please, doctor. Give me some room.”
Walter took two steps back but never looked up from his scanners. He intently studied the readings, scarcely paying any attention to the others.
Sam held out his right hand, palm up, as if to offer up something like a gift. He sent a lightning bolt from his palm, up into the air and back down into the top of the saucer. The lightning struck the metal object and sizzled around its hull. Sparks covered it from all sides, ran down top to bottom like water drops, then dispersed. The object stopped humming, and the blue light went out.
“Damn,” George said. He still didn't understand what was going on with this kid, but let it go for now. It would be better to ask questions later. There's a time and place for everything. Walter did not share the same view.
“Good work, man,” Bohai said. “You killed it.”
Shane also slapped him on the back, proud of his little brother.
“I don't know what you did,” said Walter, a bit disapproving. “You may have just made it angry. And this will certainly get someone's attention.”
“Good,” said Sam. “Let them come out and fight. We turned off one bio-weapon; we can turn off more. We're taking our planet back.”
Bohai smiled, threw his hands in the air, and shouted: “Finally!”
Chapter 33
The motorcycle sputtered and complained as Mitch turned the corner for the last road back to the compound. The bike was on its last leg, literally. Almost every part rattled and needed to be replaced. He was also low on gas, and prayed he could make it the last two miles to the compound. He was surprised to see the road deserted. All around were signs of a battle, dead reptile parts and amputated spider legs, but now nothing stirred. The road sat still in the aftermath of an event that Mitch was glad to have sidestepped.
Helluva party I missed here, he surmised.
Only one man guarded the gate to the compound, instead of the usual five or six. Inside, fewer than a dozen Grinners had stayed behind. Most had split after the war broke out, and now just a skeleton crew remained, and many of them were now packing. Large groups had headed north for Canada, where it was rumored to be safer. Mitch had found little action in Buffalo where only a few lizards had stood in his way – easy enough to dispatch.
After getting the last few chemicals Dexter needed, Mitch came back alone. No one else wanted anything more to do with the mad scientist. They didn't believe his “weapon” would work against the growing army of creatures. Mitch believed, though. He had to believe – hope was the only thing keeping him going. He wasn't cut out for this post-apocalyptic world, not like the other guys were. Mitch hadn't been a survivalist before this happened. He was all bark and no bite.
On news of Mitch's return, Dexter ran out and met him in front of the lab building. “You got it? All of it?”
“Everything on your list, boss.”
“Good. Good.” Dexter pawed through the two boxes of chemicals, making sure nothing was missing. He lifted a box. “Bring the other one inside. Come on.”
The lab was now up and running. Glass tubes bubbled with fluids, and the whole place smelled of sulfur and something worse. It was foul. The lab looked to Mitch like something from a monster movie. He carefully placed the box on a table.
“So now you can end all this, right?”
“What?” Dexter was preoccupied with unpacking the final ingredients.
“You can kill those things out there and end this thing now, right?”
The scientist turned away from his work and looked at Mitch as if just realizing he had been standing there. He noticed something yellow sticking out of the man's shirt pocket.
“What's that?”
Mitch looked down and pulled a dandelion out his pocket. “Oh, I forgot that was there. It's just a flower.” He and his sister used to pick dandelions for their Mom, but he wasn't about to share that mémoire with this madman.
“It's a weed, isn't it?” Dexter spat the words irritably.
“Yes, I guess so, technically.”
“You put a weed in your pocket?”
Where is this conversation heading? Mitch wondered.
“Um... yeah. Is that a problem?”
“Up to you, but I don't know why you're keeping weeds and calling them flowers.”
“Um... yeah, well, I always liked the yellow flower on the head. And when it turns white and its seeds blow off... it's nice,” said Mitch. Actually it was his mother who loved them so much.
Why does this crazy scientist care so much? Is he coming unhinged?
Mitch stuffed the yellow flower back in his pocket. “Weeds to one man, are flowers to another, am I right?”
“Not really. Taraxacum officinale is a weed by any name, and regardless of who is holding it or naming it.”
“Um.. okay.”
Dexter turned back to his work, and seemed to have forgotten Mitch again. He spoke mostly to himself, “Weeds are meant to be pulled. It's what I was taught since I was a child. It's what I was taught.”
“Okay... whatever. Need anything else?”
The scientist continued his work, and only grunted an inaudible reply. He turned on a machine that looked like an incubator. His work was his single concern now. Pleasantries with others, while never his forte, were now completely forgotten.
“Okay, boss, shout if you need anything.”
When Dexter didn't answer, Mitch turned and walked out. The odd fellow just needed some time alone to work, he figured. Let him work his magic and kill off all these creatures terrorizing the world.
“It will all be over soon, thank the five heavens!” Mitch said aloud to no one.
Unfortunately, all the good men had left, including his friends. The people who now remained in the compound were the dregs of society. Mitch didn't feel like talking to any of them, so he wandered off and ate dinner alone. After dinner, he tinkered with his bike. He had a feeling he might need to get back on it soon. After Dexter got his mysterious weapon to work, Mitch wanted to get as far away from him as possible, put some distance between himself and the madman... and the Grinners! He was tired of pretending to be on the psycho scientist's side, pretending to be a Grinner. He was tired of a lot of things. The only question remaining was: would he kill Dexter or not? Would he leave the madman to his own devices?
I'm not a killer.
“Maybe I'm not a killer, but he is,” he told himself. “That psycho is a mess.”
Night washed over the compound. A few raindrops fell from the starless sky, a mild spritz. Mitch could not see the moon, but he stared at the sky for a long time. Half an hour later, he retreated to a building and found a hard bunk to lie on. Like so many nights since the end of the world, he rested, but could not sleep. In his past life he would have watched re-runs of old cop shows to fall asleep. Now he sorely missed having a TV.
Chapter 34
The group set up camp in the gully just a few yards from the alien object. Stu and George built a fire, and dinner consisted of apples and military rations – not the most appetizing, but nervous stomachs would have kept them from enjoying any meal, even steak. The spiders kept the reptiles away, and they would continue this for as long as possible. Outnumbered, at some point, the lines would break; but for now this gave Sam's group a little time to rest. Their camp used the sunken side of the gully to remain hidden from view. The seven of them sat around the fire and planned the next day's strategy.
“We need to do more to draw them out,” Shane said.
“Who are the 'them' that you keep talking about? Them.” Walter asked.
“The aliens or the foreign government, whoever started all this,” Bohai said. He held up his arms. “Whoever sent this weapon.”
“If we draw them out, we can fight them,” Sam said. There was determination in his voice. He was not the same boy he was two weeks ago. “We can't fight reptiles forever. We need to
hit the source of the problem. There has to be a reason they didn't just attack us themselves. Maybe their weapons are weak.”
“Listen, what do you think their end game was?” Shane asked rhetorically. “Jason and I talked about this. I'll tell you my idea: to turn all the inhabitants of this planet, humans and animals, into these mutations we've been fighting. They use these mutations to kill off the rest of the planet's inhabitants, all the people, at least. Then the mutations turn on each other. In the end, the cities are empty, but the buildings are still there. They rid the planet of everyone, but keep the infrastructure in place. Then, when the time is right, the aliens come down and kill off the rest of the mutations that are still left alive. Boom! They own the planet, infrastructure and all. They don't have to build from scratch.”
Shane sat back with his hands folded behind his head, quite pleased with himself. He was proud of his hypothesis. “After they kill off the mutants, it's all theirs, baby. The whole world is theirs.”
“They probably have a death ray,” Bohai said with a bit of awe in his voice.
“Right. They land and take over the planet without destroying any building, pipelines, or what-have-you... they have it all for themselves. A few upgrades for their technology, and it's a free set of cities ready to host millions of people. Or blue aliens, bugs... whoever!”
“Sounds plausible,” Walter agreed. “Not the death ray part, but the rest. And Sam is right – they might not have conventional weapons. Maybe that's why they use biological agents. It's a solid premise, given the situation. Biological purging.”
“They could do this to every planet they meet,” Sam said. “Assuming there are other planets to take, I mean. This is a good plan. Take over planet after planet without firing a shot.”
“Peaceful invasion,” Walter muttered. He was lost in thought, seemingly unaware anyone was listening to him. “And keep the insects alive so that the plants and greenery don't die off. Keep the ecosystem alive... oxygen and clean air. Nuclear weapons would destroy the atmosphere for them, so those are of no use. But this way, the ecosystem is kept clean.” He took off his glasses. “It's brilliant.”
“But they hit a few snags here on Earth.” Bohai said. “For one, they didn't expect the spiders to get bigger. They also didn't expect them to organize and fight back.”
“Or maybe this is an expected side effect,” Walter mused, again talking mostly to himself. “And they are prepared for it. Think about it: the spiders are just killing off the reptiles. That's something that needs to be done anyway, at some point. Maybe they know about this possible effect, but it doesn't matter to them.”
“Right,” Shane said. “They don't care about a war on Earth between two species of animals. No buildings are being damaged. The plants and skyscrapers are safe and not being torn down. Well, except for a few trees that got blown up. Eventually, one side will win, and it's a good wager to bet on their mutations. Later, these aliens come down and take the planet. Either way, they win.”
“It's really a beautiful plan. A beautiful design,” Walter repeated. He put his glasses back on. “It's ingenious.”
“Glad you're so impressed,” Sam said, flagged and irritated. “But we need to screw with their plan. We need to fight them. We start by doing something to get their attention.”
“You mean besides killing one of their probes?” George asked. “That's probably gonna piss someone off. What else can we do to mess with their plans?”
“Infrastructure,” Sam said. “We start to destroy the buildings, the sewer systems, the power plants. We mess with their golden plan.”
“That should catch them by surprise,” said Walter soberly. He furrowed his brow and looked at each of them eye-to-eye. “It might bring down some big visitors. Are we ready for that?”
“Yes,” Sam said, increasingly scared and angry at the same time. “We're ready.”
“I'm sure as hell not fighting lizards the rest of my life,” Shane said. “Let's take down some buildings.”
“Scorched earth strategy,” George agreed, nodding his head. “Don't leave anything for them to use.”
“We start there,” said Shane, pointing at the US Steel Tower, 64 stories tall and one of the nation's tallest buildings. It stood in the background like a mighty dagger, slicing upward from the skyline. “That should get someone's attention.”
Together, the humans contemplated the city stretched out before them. Dozens of skyscrapers punctuated the sky. They loomed like towers in ancient time, or like teeth that speared up from the ground and split the view. To Sam it looked beautiful, as the late evening sun formed spokes piercing through the rain clouds before disappearing over the horizon. It started to sprinkle, just a little, as total darkness closed in. Fortunately the tiny bit of rain only spat for twenty minutes, then moved on.
They slept on the ground with only grass as a pillow, and Sam imagined the planets and stars hidden above the clouds. He wondered which of the stars their alien invaders came from. How many other planets had they conquered on their way to Earth? Was it always this easy for them?
“Seven of us,” Shane said.
“So?” Sam sat up on his elbows.
“Remember that show: Blake's 7? They had seven crew members. That was a cool show. It's just like us.”
Sam sat back and closed his eyes. “Sure, if that helps you. Go to sleep, man.”
Camila snuggled in between the two of them, and fell asleep. Somehow Sam and Shane managed to drift off just as easily – a side effect of total and utter fatigue.
In the morning, they ate a quick breakfast and put out the fire. The alien object had not moved or reacted in any way to their intrusion. Shane tapped its hull with his knuckles. A metallic echo replied.
“Still no one home,” he said. “Let's head out.”
The tanks rumbled to life and lurched forward onto the wide empty street that would lead them to Forbes Avenue, and then downtown. The jeep followed third in succession, with Stu taking up the rear. They took Forbes Avenue to the Hill District and looked down onto the city's downtown skyline, a quarter mile ahead and below them. So far nothing had stood in their way to reach this point. A few straggling reptiles slithered off the road to avoid the loud tanks invading their space, but the route to this point had been easy. Straight ahead stood BNY Mellon Center and to the right towered the US Steel complex.
Sam looked down and saw a writhing mass of lizards in the streets. Thousands of the reptilian monsters crowded the downtown area, nesting in alleys and in the buildings that massed together shoulder to shoulder. It was a sickening sight to behold – even more so, given the origin of these creatures.
George's voice squawked through the walkie talkies, “Are we ready for this? Everyone sure?”
Sam hesitated only a moment, thinking this was a point of no return.
We really doing this? There is no un-doing something like this.
Then he picked up his talkie and said, “Light her up, guys.” There would be no ceremony for this moment of destruction.
We're doing this.
George put a cigar in the corner of his mouth, loaded his 14mm cannon, and aimed it at the tallest building. He fired. A round met the sixtieth floor and exploded. Bohai and the others followed each with a round of their own. The sound of impact was deafening. When the shells entered the building, the ground shook. Chunks of two floors spat out the other side. The shock of the explosions sent large pieces of concrete, steel and glass plummeting to the street, and the top floors imploded and collapsed. The lizards clambered over each other to get out of the way. One of them was beheaded by a sheet of glass.
“Here we go,” George grunted, the half-chewed cigar still in his mouth.
George shelled the fifty-eighth floor twice more, and the top of the building severed from its whole. The top seven floors came crashing to the ground – the 64-story building had been cut down to 57. It now looked like a giant monument to the spiked head of Bart Simpson. Thousands of lizards s
creeched and raced away from the streets surrounding the building. Many of them were crushed under steel debris that now piled high on the pavement, rods of rebar sticking up haphazardly. Two lizards were impaled.
Sam let out a whistle. “That should wake someone up.”
The tanks fired again, and again. Five more floors blew away. Steel girders poked up from the forty-ninth floor – everything above it now gone. A zigzag of jagged metal clawed toward the sky, where solid floors used to exist. Pieces of stone and steel continued to fall to the ground far below, seemingly in slow motion. Lizards screamed and fought with each other, then turned toward the tanks and attacked en masse in large numbers.
Stu began shelling the streets to keep the horde at bay.
George turned his cannon to the second tallest building. The shiny glass tower of the financial building took a blast to the fortieth story, then another. Immense glass windows cracked and imploded. A two-story chunk of its corner fell to the ground and crushed many of the creatures below, pushed others to scatter. It looked like Godzilla had taken a bite out of the building's side.
The lizards rushed them again. This time the numbers were beyond anything they'd ever faced. Sam guessed fifty thousand, maybe more. The swarm of demons now descended on Sam's group in blind fury. No amount of shelling would stop them.
The tanks aimed for the streets and blared out shot after shot. The monsters didn't care; they kept coming. A group of them reached Shane's tank and turned it on its side. They bit and clawed at the hatch, trying to get the prize out of the jar.
This is going to end badly, Sam thought. Do something.
Sam was paralyzed with panic. It wasn't until anger and frustration overcame his fear that he moved. He grabbed the railing of the jeep. In minutes they would all be under a pile of creatures. If that happened, he doubted any of them would survive.
Do something!
Sam jumped down from the jeep and walked forward to meet the assault head-on. Scared, he stumbled and fell on the ground. His arms thrust forward and scuffed the concrete. He did not get up; instead he raised himself to one knee and bent his head to concentrate. The boy was seconds from being clawed to death, when he opened his arms and let fly a wave of lightning bolts bigger than anything he had ever before generated.
