The Variant Effect

by G. Wells Taylor

  He recognized others too: Dancer standing poised and ready, with Slick and Chopper to either side; there was Flattop and the Canadian ex-pat, Mountie, both looking large and homicidal with their hoods in place and weapons held across their chests. Lilith and Zombie were there too; their attention on Beachboy as he took his place beside them. Flatfoot stood at the far end, his dejected stance suggesting he'd rather be back in Metro walking a beat.

  Sheriff Marley stood near one end of the squad looking awkward and nervous. He pulled at his bag-suit's crotch. His hood was already in place with the lamps on low. Aggie must have drafted him after the explosion.

  Careful what you wish for Sheriff.

  Borland clawed his flask out of his jumper pocket and took a good pull as Aggie stopped center to the squad and began to talk. The intercom faded and crackled as the lightning and thunder flickered and boomed through the heavy charcoal clouds overhead.

  "Back in the day, brave men and women volunteered to fight the Variant Effect. Back in the day, they drew a line in the sand and held it. Many of you never knew more than stories of that time because we thought we had it licked," Aggie said, her voice sharp. "Well ladies and gentlemen we were wrong, and you have all stepped forward to draw the line in the sand again. And we're gonna draw the goddamn thing."

  Thunder banged and lightning lit the baggies. The raindrops that had collected on their hoods and shoulders gleamed, and held the lightning a second longer than the scene around them-giving the squad an otherworldly glow.

  "We must assume that anyone in the tunnels is our enemy. Deal with them quickly. Anyone that cannot respond to your orders must be shot. Be careful of any survivors. Treat them as prisoners of war. Bind their hands, feet too if necessary. Talk later. We saw with Mao that while this effect may have 100 percent communicability, it still behaves like the Variant of old, and can present in other dangerous ways." Aggie went quiet a second. "We must stop it here."

  She let that sink in. Borland took another drink and then slipped his flask away. The whiskey set fire to the scene and he smiled.

  "We're not doing this for personal survival, we're doing this to save every other human being on the planet. We protect the greater population by treating the Variant Effect here and now." Aggie straightened, pulling the baggies to attention with her. "You come from law enforcement, the military and EMT. Your capacity to protect the innocent will be put to the test. You will not have time to second-guess yourselves, so don't. We win this, or everybody loses."

  Borland watched the vinyl-covered soldiers. Wondered if any of them would see morning.

  "With the loss of veterans Hyde, Lazlo and Spiko, the duty of my second in command falls to Captain Borland. He will bring up the rear." Aggie turned to acknowledge him. "It is not my plan to divide this group, but should it be necessary or if the Squad is broken by attack...you will follow Captain Borland's orders to the letter." Her voice crackled on the intercom as another sheet of lightning lit the sky. "Stay close to him. He has a bad habit of surviving."

  A few chuckles mixed with the static on the intercoms.

  "I passed out stick-tabs on the way. Each tab is marked with the letter 'A' or 'B.'" She lifted her hand and Borland saw that each baggie had one of the waterproof labels stuck to his or her left palm. "I want 'A' group at the front going in. 'A' is my group. Lucky members of 'B' group will bring up the rear with Captain Borland." She started pacing toward him and stopped a foot away. She nodded before turning to the squad. "If I order the squad to split in an offensive or defensive fashion, you will do so along those lines."

  Aggie set her fists on her hips and paced across the rank as she continued:

  "We've all had a look at the map. We will move into the tunnel and Flattop will seal it behind us. Don't worry; the cavalry can open the can when they need in. We will move north until the tunnel branches east and west. The hotlink is basically a big loop, so we'll move into the western arm and seal it behind us. Then we'll push through that tunnel until we get to the western cistern at the north end of the loop. Along the way we will seal any side vents, tunnels and holes. Past the cistern, the sewer loops back to the south along a lower eastern arm. At the top of the loop a tunnel branches east under the runways to a second eastern cistern. It's a dead end that leads to smaller and smaller bore collector pipes. We'll seal that for BZ-2 treatment later.

  "We will proceed south in the eastern arm of the loop pushing anything in there toward the entrance. As we move through the hotlink remember that it loops around the army's underground storage. All vents and maintenance access points to the storage space open into the tunnel. Everything's supposed to be locked and grated, but we will look sharp just the same and seal any opening we find."

  Aggie tried to keep her tone matter-of-fact, but Borland could see in the squad's collective stance, that nothing could diminish the growing tension. There was only one thing on their minds: they were going underground to fight skin eaters.

  Thunder continued to rumble and lightning flickered deep in the clouds.

  Borland remembered the maps showing the storage area linked by an access tunnel to a loading dock where the street burrowed under the main runway. Colonel Hazen's men would be waiting there. Everything was supposed to be locked and shuttered, but Biters were unpredictable and strong.

  "When we find the pack they'll either fight or run. If they fight, the tunnel will allow two baggies kneeling abreast and one standing firing overhead. It's tight, but it also narrows their attack. Baggies in the rear will reload and feed fresh shotguns to the front ranks when necessary."

  Aggie's voice continued to buzz with static. "Anything that doesn't fight will run. We will push them back toward the entrance that they'll find locked. It's dangerous but simple. Watch for new construction, broken vents, any place something child to man-sized could hide in." Aggie paused. "We will treat them all ladies and gentlemen and sleep well after, knowing we've saved the world."

  A couple baggies clapped; three raised their shotguns and cheered.

  Thunder banged, and Aggie looked up.

  "Nobody plans for weather. So remember that we're in a sewer that moves water. Colonel Hazen assured me that it would take a flood to cause dangerous levels in there, but we will monitor that situation as the mission progresses. Remember, if you are uncomfortable, the Biters will be very uncomfortable."

  Then Dancer pointed up the slope that led to the sewer hotlink. A couple baggies raised their guns as a man in vinyl clambered out of the tunnel, water pouring around his feet. He slid down the hill.

  CHAPTER 65

  "Ssskin." Click. Click.

  Feet splashed behind-the noise echoed around him. He tried to shut it out.

  It's happening again!

  He stabbed the ground with his cane, swung his leg braces forward. He steadied his balance by pushing against the rounded wall with the gun barrel, but he couldn't catch his breath.

  Have to go faster.

  "Ssskin." Click. Click. "SKIN!" The raw, infected feet splashed after him.

  It can't happen again.

  But that thought did nothing to calm him.

  He was an open wound. On a certain level what might happen now was worse than what happened before. If in their frustration, in the madness of Ritual, once they'd torn his skin-shell suit apart, the Biters could murder him by tearing away the scar tissue that had formed over his body, or...

  Infection!

  Once a wound was opened, the Varion-hybrid molecule could enter and he would become...he would be...

  "Ssskin!" Water spattered, as the Biters came on.

  They would take the only thing they left before.

  His mind.

  He would become like them, and worse, make others like him. Even Jill. Whatever luck was working for her so far would not last forever, and once they were done with him-would they not track her down, only with him coming on as well, at one with the pack?

  Ripping, tearing and biting at his daughter!


  Then Hyde was at the crossing. The pack was almost on him. He fired over his shoulder. The flash slowed them. They fell back as their eyes flared with pain. As their heartbeats raced with fear and anxiety.

  More need for Ritual.

  He fired another shot wildly, before lurching down the tunnel that led to the east and the second cistern under the runways. If nothing else, he knew the squad's plan was to seal and gas it. If he could lead the Biters far enough. And there was the other baggie-the brain collector. Where was he?

  Was it possible that another squad was in the hotlink?

  Hyde's body screamed with pain, his muscles clenched in spasms as he lurched through the darkness, the way lit by the aura from his virtual body and his hood-lamps.

  There was no help.

  This would be the end.

  And then he understood Borland's decision at the Demarco building, when Biters cornered him and there seemed to be no escape.

  Better suicide than to die by skinning, or worse, surviving it.

  But he couldn't do it.

  To fight so hard.

  To give Jill up to survive, only to kill himself when faced with a terrible death.

  And he had sworn to other survivors that he would live.

  A terrible death started 20 years before.

  A strong hand caught his right ankle and he fell forward.

  "No!" he cried, unable to control the fear that pounded in his chest. "No!"

  Something heavy dropped on his back and bellowed: "SKIN!"

  Click. Click. Click. Others were cramming closer into the tight confines of the tunnel.

  Ritual!

  Feet splashed around him, water poured over his hood.

  Hands gripped. Fingers pinched.

  He marveled for a second at the illusory skin on his forearms, where they entered the water.

  "Skin!"

  Hyde struggled to turn onto his back, as fingers pried under his collar and pulled.

  He rolled with the motion, and looked up into a Biter's face. Its teeth snapped at him, and its eyes burned with desire in the dim light from Hyde's hood-lamps.

  Hyde whipped his cane up and jammed it between its jaws, pushed the wood back into the naked muscle and twisted it, used his leverage to bend the creature's neck to the right until it barked with pain or frustration. It leapt away, with a wrench of Variant-enhanced muscles pulling the cane from Hyde's grasp.

  Others pushed in. Adults and young, snapping and biting. Exposed finger bones digging for purchase.

  A face came close, a female. Her jaws still covered by cheeks and lips, the skin around her eyes torn away with her nose-the open wound looked like a mask. He pressed his magnum against her face and fired. The brown hair blew out behind her with a gout of red and she fell aside.

  Then a young one took her place, a boy, his head and torso stripped to the veins and red. His chubby hands were unchanged as they pinched at Hyde's face.

  He swept his magnum at the small head, and was sickened by the crunch of bone. It fell to the side as tears started down Hyde's cheeks.

  No more!

  He wept.

  I can't do this anymore.

  Hyde clubbed at a big male's face as it tugged on the display plates covering his arms.

  "Skin!" And other hands pulled at his legs, their finger bones worming under the edges and cuffs of his skin-shell. Tugging. Ripping. His display image flickered as he clubbed about in the dark with the magnum, beating a red spray from exposed muscle and bone. They tumbled in the water, rolled in the brown liquid.

  "Ssskin! Ssskin. Skin. Skin. Skin!" many voices shrieked over and over as the Biters pulled and wrenched at him-set their teeth.

  "Stop it! Stop it!" Hyde cried, voice shrill in the dark. "I can't!"

  There was another flicker, and then his suit display went black. The Biters froze, uncertain.

  A second later Hyde's preset command initiated. The timing was off, but...

  The suit display flared in a hot white flash that blinded everything in the tunnel.

  Even Hyde.

  CHAPTER 66

  Borland tripped over Shanju's corpse about a yard past where the tunnel branched. He hadn't expected the water to be so deep and dark, and he hadn't expected the skinned corpse to pop up in his arms.

  It was Lilith who identified her.

  But Borland was so frazzled, his nervous system so overworked, that he couldn't do more than growl at the thing as he pushed it away. Lilith and Zombie showed genuine fear and revulsion as they helped him to his feet. Beachboy snarled and cocked his shotgun, wanting vengeance.

  Vengeance against what?

  "Nice," Borland said looking back down the tunnel. Flattop had sealed the hotlink after the squad entered, and had just finished flash-welding a grate over the western tunnel before waving to Borland's crew and dragging his equipment after Aggie. Borland could hear the squad moving up the other tunnel slowly, noisily checking for rabbit holes.

  He had already told his small crew to switch their intercoms to a second channel. He knew they'd quickly get sick and tired of hearing their own breathing. No sense listening to the other group as well.

  "Come on," he said, and moved cautiously up the eastern branch.

  They were on a mission.

  After Hyde's driver calmed down, he'd reported that Hyde had gone ahead into the tunnel after hearing at least one civilian voice. They thought it belonged to the hunting pack's captive. Since one escaped Ritual, it meant there might be other survivors.

  Neither Aggie nor Borland held much hope for that, but she gave him the okay to go into the eastern branch to look for Hyde since he was expecting some kind of help to come that way.

  Rescuing one captive and one veteran captain was not enough to risk the entire operation or squad so Aggie asked for volunteers to go with him. Borland picked Lilith, Zombie and Beachboy as his team. If they couldn't find Hyde they were to fall back to the hotlink entrance where they could hunker down and kill anything that came through the tunnel that couldn't tell them its name. Wizard had said Midhurst was sending a squad from Metro to back them up. They'd arrive inside an hour.

  That was the plan.

  Borland snarled and burped up his last drink. Moving in the tight tunnel churned his guts, made his hernias ache and pull. Steam was building up in his hood. It was hot. He was trying to figure out why he'd gotten involved in a rescue operation.

  You owe him.

  Borland grumbled over that thought as he splashed through the water. His group followed: Lilith, then Zombie and Beachboy in the rear.

  Hyde thinks you owe him.

  And Borland was pretty sure that Hyde didn't understand the situation. Things were not the way he thought.

  He can't suffer that too.

  "Not my fault," Borland whispered.

  "What's that captain?" Lilith's voice was sharp over the intercom.

  "Nothing! Keep your eyes open," Borland snapped, sweeping his hood-lamps up in time to see a small hand reach down from the left.

  "Wait!" he barked, hefting his shotgun. The tunnel opened up a yard ahead. When the army built their storage space they'd replaced a length of the circular sewer with a narrow concrete hall. About seven feet up a skinned arm hung out of a vent. It moved slowly, the muscles glistening with pockets of infection.

  What the hell?

  "Jesus, Captain!" Zombie shouted, getting his shotgun up.

  The combined grouping of head-lamps showed the arm was jammed through the bent bars of a vent covering near the ceiling. Inside, they could see the shoulder, and skinned head of a small Biter-a child. It was covered with a waxy sheen. The veins on the skull pulsed slowly.

  "Ssskin," it hissed weakly. The whites of its eyes were yellow. The pupils were dilated despite the light from the hood-lamps. Its fingers made a slow fanning motion, but it could not reach out. "Skin."

  "What happened to it?" Lilith asked, her shotgun steady.

  "It climbed into the vent." Borland shrugged
and tried to see past it. The body was wedged tight into a ventilation shaft made of sheet steel. "Must be the storage room back there." He remembered Hazen's blueprints. He shook his head. "It tried to get out and got stuck-they aren't geniuses."

  "What's wrong with it?" Zombie frowned at the thing.

  "If we don't get to them first, Biters die of infection and blood loss-shock. They've got no skin," Borland grunted and then started along the tunnel.

  "What?" Beachboy called after him. "You're going to leave it?"

  "Can't risk the noise," Borland said over his shoulder. "It's not going anywhere."

  They splashed northward, the water moving against them now, collecting in places, creating eddies that pulled at their vinyl leggings. There was a long section of cramped round tunnel followed by another length of rectangular concrete.

  Borland breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it. The ceiling was higher, allowed him to move without crouching.

  Then he froze. Ahead on the left, their hood-lamps showed a recessed doorway on the left side of the tunnel. There were two steps up, the lowest covered by water. The door was made of thick boards bound with steel, but it had been splintered and bent, and hung open from a single hinge.

  "Damn," Borland cursed. Held his shotgun on the door as he moved slowly past it.

  Lilith and the others did the same, their hood-lamps showed dark rafters leading into a shadowed room. Crates, boxes and drums rested against brick walls.

  "Corporal didn't mention that," Lilith said.

  "They probably had their lamps on low-couldn't see it," Borland explained. "Didn't want to attract attention."

  "Do you think there are Biters in there?" Zombie asked.

  "They have been," Borland grumbled and stepped up to tentatively move the door on its broken hinge-listening. "But it's too quiet."

  At that, repetitious splashing sounds echoed toward them along the tunnel from the north. Borland turned, took a few steps forward. Their hood-lamps flickered on the concrete walls. Twenty yards from their position the round sewer began again. It was a circle of darkness rising out of the water.