Horror Sci-Fi Box Set: Three Novels

by Bryan Dunn

  Amy nodded, thinking about what Lockwood had just said. “Yes, it’s too much to hope for.”

  Lockwood stood, went over to a canvas rucksack and removed another crystal tumbler.

  “Even if we managed to reanimate the creature, that would really just be icing on the cake.” Lockwood returned to his desk, lifted the bottle of scotch, added a generous portion to the glass, and handed it to Amy.

  “What you found, Amy, will turn molecular biology on its ear. Correction – all biological sciences.”

  Amy only half listened, too distracted by the glass of scotch she suddenly held. “Scotch? Crystal glasses?” she said in disbelief.

  Lockwood laughed, pleased with her surprised reaction. “I can tell you it took some doing to find this bottle. Very old. Very dear.”

  “What about that admonition, ‘only room for the essentials’?”

  “Oh, but this is. This is…” Lockwood said, raising his glass.

  Amy lifted her glass and they touched rims, the cut crystal filling the tent with a delicate ring.

  “Cheers,” Lockwood said. And they both took a sip.

  Lockwood quickly drained his glass, refilled it, then offered Amy some more.

  Amy shook her head. “No, this is great,” she said, placing her hand over the top of her glass. “It’s really smooth. Good stuff.”

  “No, it’s very good stuff,” Lockwood said, correcting her. He chortled, drained his glass again and, just as quickly, added another two fingers of scotch.

  Lockwood placed the bottle on the packing crate, turned, and raised his glass to Amy. “To the most beautiful Nobel Prize winner in the history of Nobel Prize winners.”

  Amy laughed, embarrassed by Lockwood’s overt flattery. “Well, it hasn’t happened yet.”

  “Is there any doubt?”

  “Hmm, we’ll see. To tell you the truth, I never had my heart set on winning anything like a Nobel Prize. Besides, you never know. There are always a couple of guys sitting around in a garage somewhere doing something brilliant in complete obscurity.”

  “My dear Amy, what you discovered on that iceberg is going to stop the world’s presses.”

  “Actually, to be fair and accurate, it was Harry who first spotted the creature.”

  “Harry? No, No… it was you, Amy. It was you and your curiosity that lead us to that iceberg. Harry… Harry was really just the bus driver.”

  “Bus driver,” Amy laughed. “I think he prefers the term bush pilot.”

  “Bus driver, bush pilot… what’s the difference?”

  “And what about you, Hayden? What about your glory?”

  “That will be completely sated in the form of Cryolabs stock options, and of course, membership in the billionaire’s club of America. Larry Ellison of Oracle said that being a billionaire is great fun and that he can highly recommend it. I’ve never forgotten that – and now I’m going to find out for myself.”

  Amy looked at Lockwood and thought to herself: wherever your treasure is, your heart will also be. As she continued to stare, she realized what a small, pathetic individual he really was. Here they were, having most likely discovered a new human species – and all the black-hearted bastard can think about is lining his pockets.

  “Hayden, I have a theory about the creature – something to help explain how we came to find it here, trapped in this iceberg.”

  Lockwood arched his eyebrows, gave Amy a quizzical look, and said, “Do tell,” then took another sip of scotch.

  “Do you remember a few years ago, 2003 I believe, when a group of archeologists excavating in Indonesia discovered a dwarf species of Homo erectus?”

  “Yes, yes I do. I remember that remarkable find very well. It was on an island I believe?”

  “Right. Flores Island. Carbon 14 dating revealed that Flores Man or Homo florensiensis lived on that Asian island just 18,000 years ago. No one could believe it. The scientific community was shocked. In evolutionary terms, it was an hour ago. One archeologist was even quoted as saying, ‘I would’ve been less surprised if my colleagues had found an alien spacecraft.’”

  “Yes, I remember that,” Lockwood said. “And they gave the specimen they found some funny nickname…”

  “Hobbit. A female member of the so-called ‘Lost Tribe of Little People’.”

  “That’s right. Hobbit. How quaint,” Lockwood nodded.

  “Hayden, I did a Google search and got some facts on that find – and I think what we found on this iceberg is the mirror opposite of Flores Man. Because that island was so isolated, its evolutionary processes were unique. Animals, and, in this case, a primitive human species faced virtually no predation and were subjected to a limited food supply – so they adapted by becoming dwarf versions of their larger cousins. Hobbits don’t need much food, but up here in the Arctic –”

  “Size matters,” Lockwood said, completing her thought.

  “Exactly. Predators abound, but the food supply is also bountiful and rich in fat and protein.”

  “So, if you’re big enough, you can dine on everything – maybe even polar bears.”

  “Yes. Life is good when you’re the alpha predator.”

  “So, you’re saying that much like the isolation of the small island that created Flores Man, the isolation of the Arctic created the monster biped we have thawing out in the lab?”

  “Yes. I think our creature could’ve been living up here in great numbers as recently as ten thousand years ago. Then something happened to wipe them out – climate change, maybe, or more likely, a deadlier predator with a bigger brain pan – Homo sapiens.”

  “There you go talking about size again,” Lockwood said, the scotch making him end his quip with a giddy burst of laughter.

  Amy stood, and ignoring him, finished her thought. “I think our creature got flash frozen in a glacier and miraculously, all these years later, we’re the lucky ones to have discovered it.”

  She took a sip of her drink. Lockwood rose to his feet and grabbed the bottle of scotch.

  “I think what we found is nothing less than a new genus of Homo erectus, and up until now, an unknown primitive giant human species,” Amy added.

  Lockwood pulled the cork on the bottle and reached out to fill her glass.

  “No thanks,” Amy said, covering the top of her glass. “I’ve had enough.”

  “You’re always saying no, Amy. Always pulling back.” Lockwood pressed and tried to fill her glass again.

  “Really, I’ve had enough,” Amy insisted, holding her glass away.

  And enough of his boozy tone.

  Lockwood, who was well into his cups and really starting to feel the scotch, helped himself to another slug, then recklessly dropped the bottle back onto the crate, almost causing it to spill to the floor.

  He turned around, faced Amy, and said, “Let go… it’s time to celebrate.” Then he suddenly lurched forward and looped an arm around Amy’s waist, pulling her against him in a tight hug.

  Amy dropped her glass trying to twist free and sent it tumbling across the tent’s floor.

  “Jesus, stop! Stop it! Hayden!” Amy yelled. She tried to work her arms free, but Lockwood had them pinned to her side.

  “C’mon, relax, Amy. Let’s have some fun. Celebrate. We both need the release.”

  “Let me go right now, you bastard, or I’ll scream!” Then Amy began to buck and kick and throw her elbows.

  Lockwood dropped his glass and wrapped his other arm around her, then leaned in close with his funky, alcohol-laden breath and said, “Amy, Amy, Amy… I’ve dreamt about you. About us. You know, I almost think I’d rather have you than a Nobel Prize.”

  He leaned in closer, pressing against her cheek, trying to steal a kiss…

  Amy screamed, twisted, and threw her head back, sending the rear of her skull slamming into Lockwood’s nose and mouth with a wet, crunching sound.

  Lockwood released her and staggered backwards, gripping his nose and moaning in pain. Blood bloomed between his fi
ngers and run down his hand.

  * * * *

  Back in her tent, Amy was sitting on a cot, drying tears. Harry twisted the cap off a bottle of water and handed it to her. She took a sip and said, “The bastard,” then unable to keep it inside, she sobbed. “God, I could feel him – you know, against my side.”

  “The scumbag has to be stopped,” Harry said, barely controlling his anger.

  “He’s smart,” she said, taking another sip of water. “There are never any witnesses.”

  “File a complaint,” Harry said. “Something –”

  “Before I joined the company, a few years back, a young intern did just that – claimed Lockwood had been sexually harassing her from the day she got the job.” Amy sniffed and wiped her nose, and then shaking her head, continued. “Lockwood is rich and powerful. His attorneys spun it like she was a delusional slut – claimed she was unqualified and just trying to fuck her way to the top.”

  “That was it? Nothing happened?”

  “No. The intern lost her job, and now she has a hundred thousand dollars in legal bills.”

  Chapter 33

  Lockwood lay on his cot, staring at the ceiling. His nose throbbed and he couldn’t sleep.

  He rolled over and looked at the clock. It was 5 a.m. – it would soon be light.

  He unzipped his sleeping bag, went to a small mirror, flicked on a battery- powered light and began daubing at his nose with a handkerchief. It was swollen and sore, but the bleeding had stopped. Then he thought to himself, at least the bitch hadn’t broken it.

  He grabbed a bottle of water, took a sip, splashed some on his face, and toweling off the excess, felt somewhat refreshed.

  Even inside the tent, the chill morning air sent a shudder through his body. He grabbed his parka, pulled it on, then zipped it to the collar.

  He went over to a small nylon pack, pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen and shook out two pills. After chasing them with a swallow of water, he pulled on a second set of socks, laced up his boots, and stepped outside.

  The first thing he noticed was that the weather had changed. A cold breeze was blowing and the surface of the sea looked disturbed and foreboding. The sky had filled with clouds and it felt cold enough to snow.

  Lockwood stamped his feet and looked out at the sea. He knew the window to get safely off the iceberg was closing fast. For a moment he thought about going over to Amy’s tent and apologizing. He’d have to make sure they kept their little peccadilloes private – especially now, as they were about to announce to the world that they’d found a previously unknown human species.

  He took a step toward her tent, then stopped, and instead crunched over and ducked inside the field lab, zipping the door behind him, saying, “Ahh,” as the warm air inside enveloped his body.

  The metronome beep, beep, beep of the monitors and the gurgling sound of water filled his ears as he approached the tank at the center of the tent.

  He went over to a bank of monitors, checked the readouts, then leaned over the tank and stared in at the creature. He smiled and nodded, pleased with their efforts to preserve this magnificent find, and then speaking out loud, said, “What are we going to call you? Iceberg Man? Newfoundland Man?”

  Lockwood smiled to himself, went over to a laptop, touched a key, and the LCD screen lit up displaying lines of data.

  As he scrolled down the page one of the monitors began to beep faster – and then all of a sudden stopped. Then there was a new, louder sound – an urgent continuous beeping. It was an alarm! Lockwood bolted back to the monitors and noticed that a weak heartbeat had suddenly been detected coming from the creature.

  Impossible!

  It couldn’t be, Lockwood thought to himself. But there it was, on the screen right in front of his eyes – the distinctive jagged line indicating a beating heart.

  Just as his mind was beginning to grasp the thought, the beeping quit.

  Silence.

  The newly beating heart was flatlining again.

  “My God,” Lockwood yelled. “This thing is trying to wake up, to fight its way back from the grave!”

  He rushed over and looked in at the creature – but it just lay there, completely motionless, a ghostly figure staring up through the water in the tank.

  He started for the door, thinking about yelling out for some help – but then he realized it would’ve been useless, there wasn’t enough time.

  Instead, he angled over to a medicine cabinet, rifled through some boxes, and found what he was looking for – a Pulp Fiction-sized syringe, the kind used in emergencies to inject adrenaline directly into the heart muscle.

  Lockwood tore open the syringe, depressed the plunger to purge any air bubbles, and then moved over to the tank.

  Leaning over the edge of the tank he looked down at the creature, trying to guess where its heart was located, and said, “Jesus, I hope twenty cc’s of adrenaline is enough.”

  Lockwood positioned the syringe over the tank, then struck down at the creature, plunging it into the water directly toward the creature’s heart, and –

  The creature’s eyes rolled forward and the pupils constricted. It jackknifed up out of the water, grabbed Lockwood around the neck, and bit his face off – leaving jagged tear marks that ran down each side of his jawline.

  When the powerful hand released him, he staggered back from the tank, literally unable to scream. Where his eyes, nose, and lower jaw had been was now just an open, gooey mass of flesh and bone.

  Lockwood took a step and tried to speak – but all that came out of the gory mask was a wet, sucking sound. He took another step, his legs buckled, and he was dead before he hit the floor.

  The creature made a low chuffing noise – as if it was clearing its lungs – then vaulted out of the tank, shedding the syringe, and went wild, smashing everything in sight.

  Chapter 34

  Outside the field lab, the sound of smashing glass and rending metal filled the air.

  Harry, Amy, and Nowhere Man ran out of their tents just in time to see the creature slash its way out of the lab tent and grab the ancient harpoon. Running upright like a man, only much bigger than any man the world had ever seen, it flashed across the ice away from the tents with a powerful stride.

  When it reached the edge of the camp, the creature stopped, turned, and stared directly at Harry, Amy, and Nowhere Man. It kept its eyes on them, unafraid, not looking away for a full minute – then disappeared into the mist and weak dawn light.

  “My God! It’s alive!” Amy yelled.

  “Unbelievable,” Harry said, too stunned to say more.

  “That has got to be the goddamndest thing I have ever seen in my life. Amazing,” Nowhere Man said.

  Behind them, the rest of the camp came to life as men poured out of their tents, trying to wipe the sleep from their eyes to see what was happening.

  One of the Navy engineers was staring at Lockwood’s body through a gaping hole in the front of the lab tent. He took a step back in shock, pointed at the tent, then called out to the others. “Over here! Dr. Lockwood… Dr. Lockwood has been hurt.”

  The man had just perfected the art of understatement.

  Harry and Amy bolted toward the field lab and entered the tent through a six-foot- long slash in the canvas. There on floor, was Lockwood’s body.

  Amy covered her mouth, trying not to gag. She looked away and said, “His face… It’s awful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Holy God,” Harry said. Then placed a hand on Amy’s shoulder.

  Nowhere Man stepped into the tent with an M-16 rifle slung over his shoulder and asked, “How’s Dr. Lockwood –?” then stopped in mid sentence when he saw the body.

  “Jesus-H…”

  “His face is just gone, Harry said, still shocked.

  “Yesterday wouldn’t be too soon to be off this berg,” Nowhere Man said, examining the ravished insides of the tent.

  Harry nodded and looked down at Lockwood. “I wonder if he had something
to do with waking the creature up.”

  A few feet away, next to the tank, Amy bent down and picked up the syringe. “Look at this,” she said, holding it up for them to see.

  “A syringe?” Harry said.

  “Used in emergencies to restore a heartbeat.” Amy glanced down at the empty tank. “For some reason Hayden decided to give the thing a massive dose of adrenaline.”

  “And that’s how it came back to life?”

  “I don’t know. But Hayden must’ve had some reason to use it. There might have been some sign of life. Injecting a dead animal with adrenaline is useless.”

  “Well, if he was trying to wake it up – it worked,” Nowhere Man said. “That thing is alive and we’ve got a problem.” Nowhere Man slipped the M-16 off his shoulder, racked the lock, then looked up at the sky through a shredded section of the canvas roof.

  “Not to mention the weather is about to go all to shit.” He quickly glanced at Amy. “Excuse my French, ma’am.”

  Amy hadn’t heard a word he said; her eyes locked onto the loaded M-16. “Whatever you do – do not shoot it!” Amy commanded, pointing at Nowhere Man’s rife.

  “Ma’am, excuse me again, but if that ugly son of a bitch comes anywhere near me – I will not hesitate to empty this clip into its hairy chest.”

  Amy was about to protest when the air filled with loud screaming, then a man yelling, “No! No!”

  Chapter 35

  The three of them bolted out of the tent and saw Sergeant Sloan and Sergeant Wilbanks backing away from the helicopter in a defensive crouch.

  Harry yelled, “What is it? What’s going on?”

  Then they watched as Sloan and Wilbanks turned, straightened, and began running towards them like they were being chased by a hungry polar bear.

  Nowhere Man leveled the M-16, giving them cover as they ran back into camp.

  Sloan and Wilbanks arrived next to the lab tent, breathless, both of them with horrified, bloodless expressions on their faces.

  “Did you see it? Is it back?” Nowhere Man demanded, nervously scanning the ice.