Violet Eyes

by John Everson

  David led him down a short hall to another steel door, but this one opened with a simple push bar. And when it did, Skiles found himself inside an irritatingly bright lab. The ceilings were lined with long tube lights, and the sidewalls also shown with intense white spots that coned down to illuminate a long stretch of shiny steel surface. There were several island lab table spaces in the long room, but all along the perimeter was a steel counter, housing stands of test tubes, beakers, and various electronic instruments. Red, green and blue lights flashed from various machines. Skiles couldn’t identify what any of them were for, though they looked impressive.

  “When Commander Stalvert said you were coming last night, I took this out of storage and set up a demo for you,” David explained. “We had closed the project and frozen the results almost fourteen months ago. It was an interesting experiment, but ultimately too difficult to control and contain.”

  “So we’ve found out,” Skiles said, with more than a trace of sarcasm.

  “Indeed,” David said. “We attempted to build in an abort trigger, but you just can’t control life cycles in the same way as machines. The genetic ‘Stop’ button was unsuccessful, though there is another genetic failsafe built in that will ultimately stop the strain from continuing after a certain number of generations. But that doesn’t kick in until two to three months of propagation. Our inability to be able to stop them on a dime was part of the reason the project was aborted. Washington didn’t think it was controllable enough to deploy.”

  “So what are we dealing with?” Skiles asked. “And how do I contain it this week? I don’t have three months. I don’t have three days!”

  David nodded quickly. He smiled at Skiles as if to say, “Yes, I’m getting to it. Give me a moment…” The researcher opened a steel cabinet and pressed a button on the inset near the door. A long silver table slid out, and locked to the center was what, at first, looked to be a glass terrarium. “Here we are,” David said. “This is our little 007.”

  “What kind of spider is it?”

  “007.”

  “You named it 007. Seriously?”

  David beamed. “Its full designation is 007-YXT-37j. We were working on strain K when the plug was pulled on the project. But yes, 007 for short. It goes in undercover, and takes care of any enemies of the State.”

  “Along with any other living thing in its way.”

  David’s smile faltered. He nodded, this time a little slower. “There is only so much control you can exert on a lower life form.”

  “So explain to me how it was supposed to work.”

  David’s smile returned. He nodded quickly. When he talked, his hands punctuated almost every word. If he hadn’t looked so dark-skinned, Skiles would have said he was Italian.

  “The mission was to be able to release a small sample of flies into a location. They would spread out quickly, not drawing any attention to their presence. They were a modified variant of the tsetse fly, however, and we introduced an interesting change here. The tsetse is different from many fly species in that it has a long proboscis, which it uses to suck blood from its food source, much like a mosquito. We were able to use that anatomy to our advantage. When our 007 flies bite, they not only suck blood for their sustenance, if they can maintain a connection to the host for long enough, they also secrete a series of eggs into the flesh of the prey. Once released into the host’s bloodstream, those eggs are drawn to an enzyme which resides largely in the brain. So these almost microscopic eggs instinctually migrate to the brain area to gestate, regardless of where the bite occurred. We worked really hard to truncate the gestation period, so they don’t need long to hatch. Once they do, the larvae feed on the outer aspects of the brain to grow, and ultimately begin to dig their way through the brain case to get free, incapacitating the host in the process. If they find an eye socket or nasal opening, they exit the host very quickly. But those who are growing up in the back of the skull tend to take a couple extra days to get out as they eat their way through the bone. Basically, they hollow out a good bit of the host’s skull before the last ones are released to begin a new lifecycle.”

  David pointed at a large black fly with abnormally large purple-tinted eyes. The thing held on to the fine silver strands of the screening at the top of the glass enclosure. Skiles bent close enough to see the tiny hairs branching from the insect’s antennae.

  “There’s your spreader,” David said. “But that’s only the first half of the cycle. The real challenge for us was to merge completely unlike forms into a symbiotic life form. Really, a completely new species, because neither half of the equation survives without the other. The fly travels across the land, looking for hosts to bite and lay its eggs.”

  “And the other half?”

  David smiled. He looked proud as he pointed at a black eight-legged spider on the other side of the glass enclosure. A jagged slash of purple marked its back. “The larvae of the fly hatch into small black spiders. We used Genus Lactrodectus, commonly known as the Black Widow spider, as our base for this part of the life cycle due to their aggression and ability to carry and inject venom. The only mission of the spider half of the life cycle is to eat and spread. They eat five times their own weight in a day, expending the intake as silk, and at the same time, growing. When they hatch, they might be barely larger than the size of a BB. But by the time they are ready to reproduce, they’ve grown an abdomen that can be as much as an inch long.”

  “And when they are mature?” Skiles asked.

  Again, David pointed. This time, at a thick cottony web in the corner of the tank. “A chemical is released that begins the gestation period. That period only lasts for about six hours, but the change is dramatic. The spider goes dormant, while its internal organs undergo a complete transition. At its end, a horde of eggs that have been gestating inside it hatch to form fly larvae. These eat their way out of the spider’s back, just as the spiders ate their way out of their host’s braincase. The fledgling flies then launch from the empty shell of the parent spider to seek new hosts, which they will impregnate with larvae that will ultimately kill the host and hatch a new brood of spiders in its body.”

  The biologist suddenly grew even more animated, and jabbed a finger towards the corner of the glass enclosure repeatedly. “Look! See the spider on the right side of the web there?”

  Skiles bent to look closer, and instantly understood the doctor’s excitement. The culmination of his experiment was occurring right now. The black shell of the spider had faded…it looked…leached of life. Almost gray. The thing was larger than the other spiders that moved about on the web across the tank. But it was also completely still. And the reason was clear, when you looked closely. The jagged bolt of purple that shot across its back was being pressed open. Forced open. And from the shivering crack, two legs emerged. They clawed their way to the top of the cage that the spider’s body had become. The emerging mandibles bit and separated, pushing the body of the cage open, and then the child fly was free, standing atop the body of its mother, ready to fly. Ready to seek new prey.

  David smiled and waved his hands as he spoke. “The really interesting thing about it all is that the more larvae in a host there are, the faster the hatching cycle. The cycle is all driven by chemical saturation levels. So in highly populated areas, the spiders and flies can literally launch new generations overnight. It’s all about the chemical balance.”

  “Why combine spiders and flies?” Skiles asked. “It sounds…well…kind of ridiculous.”

  “The idea behind the development of this scenario was to keep the strain hidden from any places where it was introduced, until a true critical mass was reached. At first, residents might notice a few extra spiders, a few extra flies. It’s the divide and conquer philosophy. And then, all of a sudden…the two populations reach a certain point and…the things reproduce too quickly to stop. True synergistic beauty in motion.”

  “So once they’ve reached a certain population, how fast do they turn over?�
��

  “At their peak, the fly to spider to fly lifecycle can be as fast as eighteen hours,” David said. “And at that point, the population growth is exponential.”

  “So again…how can I stop them?”

  David frowned. “Well, that was always the problem. Washington didn’t want them to be susceptible to DDT or any other heavy pesticides. They had to be able to continue to move through a population quickly. But once we found a way to keep them immune from common pesticides, that meant that there was really no way for us to develop an off switch. The creatures basically eat their way through the food until there is no more food. Or until the emergency genetic switch that we built in is triggered—their reproduction gene is essentially corrupted after a certain number of generations. And then, when that occurs…or when they run out of food…they diminish.”

  “So how can I kill them?” Skiles said again, slightly rephrasing his question.

  “The only way to kill them quickly is to kill their food source,” David said.

  “And that is…?” Skiles prodded.

  “Anything that moves.”

  “How big a perimeter?” Skiles asked.

  David shrugged. “Several miles, I should think. It really depends on the wind, I suppose. The flies aren’t built for long travel, but obviously they can fly.”

  “How big?” Skiles said again.

  David’s smile disappeared. “If you can pinpoint the edge of the infected area, and you then went beyond that and wiped down everything in a twenty-mile perimeter of the outbreak, I think you’d be safe. They haven’t had that long to spread and expand.”

  “Do you know how many people that would mean?” Skiles gaped. Passanattee wasn’t in a hugely populated area, since it bordered the Everglades. But it wasn’t exactly the middle of New Mexico either.

  “They were never meant to be released here,” David said.

  “No,” Skiles said. “I don’t suppose they were. But the fact is…they have been. And people are dying.”

  David looked at Skiles with an injured expression in his eyes. “And more people are going to,” he said. “A lot more.”

  The biologist walked away from the tank. His head dipped, and for the first time, Skiles noted what might have been a hint of remorse in the man, for the monster he’d created.

  “We were supposed to develop the ultimate feeding/reproductive cycle,” David said. “A creature that would continue to spawn and consume, no matter what the environmental challenges. Sun, famine, rain, flood…the mission was to develop a life form that would not be slowed by such things. That’s what 007-YXT-37j is. It lives, mainly, to feed, and is immune to extreme heat and substantial cold. Put these flies in a blizzard, and a few of them will get past the snow to find their way into the warm air of the cottage at the end of the street. They are not indestructible, but they are substantially immune to issues of hot and cold. Drop them in a desert and the spiders will crawl across the sand for miles, as their fly cousins swarm to find a body to suck blood from so that they can transfer their DNA.”

  The researcher turned and walked back to where Skiles remained. “Heat doesn’t sway them, cold doesn’t slow them. All they live for is food and reproduction. Drop them in a heavily populated area and you will find you have an exceptionally non-populated area in short order. They are the creature that mankind feared to find. And we made it.”

  Skiles looked at David’s face and saw the pride inherent there. The thought of what this thing could do to the human race had never completed itself in the man’s head. He had no concern for the human race, he only lived for what he could do with his genes and his splices.

  “Okay,” Skiles said. “Do you want to be the one to help give the final plug pull on this thing?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Skiles gave the man a burning glare.

  “Do you want to help me wipe this thing out, or are you going to be sympathetic to the monster?”

  “They’re not monsters,” David said and frowned, as if he had been personally insulted. “But yes, I will help. We developed a chemical—eXogen19—designed to sterilize an area. It essentially dissolves any living creature, while leaving the plant life alone.”

  “Is that the same compound you released on Sheila Key? Because…that didn’t work!”

  David nodded. “The initial application obviously failed. It wasn’t strong enough. When we revisited the island—thanks to your call, I believe—we used a stronger concentration. We’ve checked the island several times now and found no trace of resurgence.”

  “I’m going to need truckloads of this stuff,” Skiles said.

  “We’re prepared,” David said.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Tuesday, May 21. 8:47 p.m.

  When Anders woke, the house was still. And dark. It only took a look out the window to see that he had slept through the afternoon. It was night, but what time? Anders looked around the room for a clock, but saw none.

  He was lying in a bed in a sparsely finished room—just a bed and a nightstand—with the bedroom door closed. He sat up slowly and stretched, testing himself. The muscles in his arms and shoulders ached, like when you were in the midst of a December flu. Overall, his body felt weak, but a lot better. Earlier, he’d been so dizzy and sick that he couldn’t stand up. Now he could hold his head up without feeling weird, and his stomach wasn’t nauseous anymore…though it was painfully empty. As soon as he thought about it, he heard an audible growl. He realized that he hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours.

  Anders slid his legs over the side and levered himself upright. He stood there in the dark for a minute, making sure that he wasn’t going to fall over or black out again. Then, convinced that he had his legs truly under control again, he crept towards the door. He put a hand on the doorknob, and carefully turned it, then eased the door open. He wanted to know the lay of the land before anyone knew that he was up.

  The hall was dark, though there was light coming from the living room down at the other end. Anders looked into the room across from his. He knew instantly from the Angry Birds poster that this was Eric’s room. He only had to take one step inside to see that his son was asleep in bed.

  Good. That was one problem solved. That meant he could deal with the other two without interference.

  He tiptoed down the hall to see if Rachel and her new boyfriend were still awake. He was nearly to the end of the wall, when he heard the couch creak.

  Crap.

  There was no place to go, really. There was a hallway door right next to him…a closet? He turned the knob and opened it. Inside was a vacuum and a couple shelves filled with tools and other odds and ends. Beyond the shelves, a handful of steps led down to what looked like a small crawlspace or storage area.

  Footsteps creaked across the front room. Anders ducked into the open door, and pulled it nearly shut behind him. He left it cracked so that he could just see a sliver of the hallway.

  Anders held his hand on the doorframe, and glued his eye to the opening.

  Crocodile Dundee walked past on his way to the bathroom.

  Perfect.

  That meant Rachel must be alone on the couch. Now if she would just stay there until he could take care of bathroom boy.

  Anders looked around the storage closet and saw a roll of twine laying near the hammer. And a couple rolls of masking tape and duct tape. He smiled and grabbed the silver spool along with the twine. Then he picked up a box cutter and thumbed the blade out a half an inch.

  Good ol’ Rachel, he thought. So nice of her to keep her packing and unpacking tools all neatly together. She’d always been organized. He pushed the door open and stepped back into the hall. He crossed it in three steps and pressed his back to the wall next to the bathroom door. The toilet flushed as he did.

  He took a deep breath. He only had one chance at this. He had driven all night last night to come here and take his family home, and there was only one thing stopping him right now. That thing was in the b
athroom. The idea that had blossomed in his head told him that if he could just get rid of Crocodile Dundee for a bit, the path would be clear to load up the truck and drive the family home.

  Water splashed against the bathroom sink and then almost as quickly turned off. Anders took a deep breath and steeled himself. He had to be fast. And accurate. He didn’t want to kill the guy, but he couldn’t miss on the first try either. He wouldn’t get another chance.

  The door opened, and the light switch clicked off.

  Terry stepped into the hall, and took a step towards the front room.

  Anders let out his breath, and leapt forward. He reached around Terry’s face with one hand and pressed it hard against the other man’s mouth to stop any calls for help, at the same time pressing the razor’s edge to Terry’s throat with his other hand.

  “Don’t move or I’ll open your throat,” Anders whispered.

  Terry stood stock still.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Anders continued, talking in the lowest whisper he could. “We’re going to kneel down here in the hallway. Slowly.”

  Terry complied, and Anders kept the razor’s edge biting into the soft skin just below his jaw. A bead of blood had surfaced along the line of the razor, and as Terry’s knees touched the hall, the blood ran down to his shoulder to stain the edge of his T-shirt.

  “Now, I want you to lay down, face to the floor,” Anders said. “And don’t make a sound. I know you’re an outdoorsy kind of guy. But I’m going to show you what an Alabama boy can do with a bit of rope.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Tuesday, May 21. 8:49 p.m.

  Rachel stirred on the couch. She’d drifted off there lying next to Terry when she should have just gone to bed. The past twenty-four hours had been an insane see-saw of emotions for her, and that alone—never mind the lack of sleep—had knocked her out. She opened an eye and saw that the place next to her was empty, though the table lamp was still on and the TV was playing commercials with the sound almost off. Where had he gone?