“Some people make it back, I hear.” She took the bowl, staring at her boots. “See you before shift.” With that, she left him alone.
Miller put his pack and shoes underneath the bunk before lying down. The mattress was hard, but he could take it. He’d slept on more than his share of concrete floors on Earth. Hell, this little partition might be the most private space he’d slept in for who knows how long.
He was off the damned Earth, and he had work. Honest work.
It wasn’t much of a better life. But it was a start.
Timeout
Neal Barrett, Jr.
Vera receives a strange letter in this kooky alien abduction story
that only Neal Barret, Jr. could conceive.
Vera Lea drops out her nighty-sling, slips on her weedsack, steps in her dawgs. Pops a raven feather on her head. Makes her way quick past Mudd, past Winkit, past Dread. Hits the Tangles, hits the Badds, half an hour past dawn. Stops near Go. Makes a sign, double-ten-does-it-once-again.
Damn fool trick. Walkin’ in the dark while the devil’s having tea. Fall in a hole, get friggered by a snik. Then where’d you be, Vera Lea?
“Don’t make sense gettin’ somewhere fast,” she tells herself, “somewhere you don’t want to get to at all.”
Comes on an Oldie, shakes her left foot, does the words quick-- Wood says dip it, Water says nip it, turn two-‘leven-come-around-seven.
Stops by DryDead, watches the bloodsun blister through the trees. Thinks about the letter, second one she ever got. Says you got to be there, says you got to go. That’s the part riles her, gets her face hot. Isn’t no one in Trawly Flat goin’ to make Vera Gates do what she don’t want to do at all.
Hunches low, moves quick through Rustle, holds a scarf atop her head. Wasn’t a week when a Curly dropped down on poor Mary Freed. Sucked her dry ‘fore she hit the ground dead.
Knows she’s getting close, Rhoad coming on fast. Steps off the path, takes the long way ‘bout. Makes sign quick, not even looking back. Same as Ma told her, her’s afore that. Vera Lea Platt, age seven, near eight, stands right flat on it, stands where Daddyoak split the blacky road that wound through the World ‘fore time come to be. Hops off quick, lest the creebies pull her down...
Time she gets to Addie’s, got her mind made out. Won’t do it, that’s that. Spit-on-your-hand-don’t-even-look-back.
Addie’s got a pole, got two ends tacked on a tree. Pole’s got a shelf hanging down. Shelf’s got leeks, got a bowl of fat acorns, got a skinny mudrat hanging by its tail. Got a sack of sugarflies catches Vera’s eye.
“How old’s that bugger,” Vera wants to know. “Think I saw it Tuesday week.”
“Didn’t see any such thing,” Addie says. “Ever dead critter’s going to ‘pear about the same.” Looks right at her, then nods to one side. “Stranger’s down there a ways. Been here since dawn.”
“Know he is,” Vera says. “’Spect I can see good as you.” Stands there, thinking, not moving anywhere at all. “I’ll take those sugarflies, Addie. What you want for ‘em?”
Addie reaches up, gets the sack down off the shelf. “Won’t take anything today, Miss Vera. See you next time you stop by.”
Vera’s never cared much for Addie, can’t meet his eyes now. Tucks the sack in her pocket, looks the other way. “That’s kindly,” she says, and turns off down the path.
Man’s some shorter than any she’s ever seen ‘afore. Shaves his face, shaves his head. Suit’s tight, suit’s green. Looks like a frog been dead about a week.
“You would be the Vera Lea Gates,” he says, doesn’t look at her at all. “I am the Jones. If you are ready, I’ve got transportation down the draw.”
Vera’s never heard of a transbors, doesn’t want to see one now. “No, sir,” she tells him. “Don’t want to go nowhere, don’t want to do whatever ‘tis you want me to. Have to get you somebody else.”
Jones seems to think about that. “You received our letter?”
“Did. What I’m sayin’ is--“
“You have it with you, Vera Lea Gates?”
Vera takes the letter from her pocket, hands it to the Jones. Jones lets it fall. Reaches in a pocket, brings out something shiny, something new, something bright. Something Vera Lea’s never seen in all her life.
“Vera Lea Gates,” he says, “in the event of a recipient’s refusal to abide by the orders so received, I am authorized to perform liquidation.”
With that, he raises the shiny thing and points it at Vera’s head.
“Hey, mister--“ Vera’s heart skips a beat. “What you aim to do with that?”
“You may turn around if you like, Vera Lea Gates. There will be no pain at all...”
#
One look at Transpors, Vera throws up. Outside’s awful, inside’s worse. Somethins’ not real, can’t do a picture in your head. Passes out, wakes up, gets sick again. The Jones makes her drink something sweet. Doesn’t help a bit ‘cause she’s outside now
and the Rhoads are all real...
real and long,
real and dark,
real and dark,
long and flat,
long and
flat, and
tarry black--
“Just sit up now, Vera Lea Gates. You will presently be all right. I must tell you that your stay here will differ from anything you may have experienced in your ordinary life. You will appear to be frightened and ill at ease. Nausea, spasms, and the occasional stroke might seem to occur. You are likely to feel you are losing control of your bladder and your bowels. However, you will scarcely notice any of this at all. We have given you something to block all discomfort from your mind. From your expression, I see that our treatment is working fine.
“Do you understand what I have been saying, Vera Lea Gates?”
“You’re a woman,” Vera says. “You sure ain’t a Jones.”
“I am a Sarah. I will be your guide and companion while you’re here.”
Vera blinks. Looks the woman over, takes her all in. Same froggy suit. Short, skinny, got no tits, no bottom at all. Worse than that, hasn’t got a hair atop her knobby head.
More’n likely ate somethin’ dead, Vera figures. Left a winder open, let a fog critter in.
“I will be bringing in your dinner, Vera Lea,” the Sarah says. “After that, you will lie down and have a nice nap. We have a big evening ahead.”
Vera looks the Sarah in the eye. “Don’t want no dinner, woman. Don’t want no nap, neither.”
“Yes, you do, Vera Lea.”
“Darn sure don’t.”
“I feel you surely do...”
Vera feels a yawn coming on, figures how supper and a nap would be just about right. Like the Sarah says, need to rest up for the big whatever up ahead.
Vera Lea’s scared out her ever-lovin’ mind. Wants to scream, wants to cry, wants to lie down and die, knows it won’t do any good to try. Truth to tell, why, everything’s fine.
Standing on the long black Rhoad that don’t have an end at all, she watches as the sun goes down, watches a big shiny ball settle quiet on the ground. Watches as it swells, as it trembles, as it writhes. Watches as something starts oozing, spilling, slopping down its sides. Pink stuff, purple stuff, slicky coils of bile, something, Vera thinks, like a hog split open, its innards rolling out. Watches, then, as it all stands up, shakes a little, tossin’ slime aside, looks at Vera Lea says: “Hi, Feerah-Lhee. I Grii.”
“Pleased, I guess,” says Vera. “Like to scream, like to toss up lunch. Stuff they give me won’t let me do that.”
“Mee-too. You bee mos-awfuul-site Grii ever see. Whyy wee bein’ here, yu know dat? Godda ledder inna mayel. Don’ knows whata leeder be. Usin’ alla wurds theys gimmi in my head, sos I getsa tawlka yu.�
�
Vera can’t say how, but she knows the thing’s crying, knows it’s awful scared. Knows it don’t belong here, knows it got a letter, too.
“They be a ‘wantin’ something, don’t know what,” Vera says. “Maybe we can talk on it some, figure what they’re up to. Tell me some about you, Grii, what kinda work you do back home? Me, I do a little fishing, make a little bog jam ‘fore winter sets in. So what kinda place you from? Like ‘fore you was here.”
“Don’ havva playce,
Don’ be havva wurks,
Don’ know whatsa doin’ here,
Feerah-Lhe!”
Vera Lea finds a spot off the Rhoad, sits by a tree. Grii’s making sounds like a whole pack of DewBears shittin’ in a stream.
Isn’t no use makin’ talk. Clear as can be, me, and it don’ have a lot to say.
When this is all over, she decides, might be good to start lookin’ for another place to be. The Jones and the Sarah know where she lives now. Had a notion, they could get a letter off again. Sure don’t want to take a chance on that...
Figures she’s dozed some, light’s near gone and dark coming on. Out on the Rhoad, froggy suits chattering, scurrying about like a herd of baby squirrels. One of em’s setting up half a dozen chairs, one’s raising big shiny globes atop a pole. Vera watches, wondering what it’s all about, when the globes come alive in a blaze of blinding light.
“Lectricals!” Vera cries, closing her eyes against the glare. Slaps the ground twice, says the words trice. Seen the devil lights before, high up in the night, looked away quick ‘fore they burned out her sight.
“Stop that, Vera Lhe,” says the Sarah, suddenly appearing out of nowhere at all. “Get up off the ground. We’re starting right now.”
Startin’ what? The look in Sarah’s eyes tells Vera she maybe don’t want to know that.
Someone’s drawn a square. Grii on one side, Vera on the other. The Jones sits in a chair, the Sarah by his side. Another man sits off by himself. Hasn’t got a froggy suit, wearing white and black.
“Who’s that?” Vera wants to know.
“Shhh. Be quiet,” says the Sarah.
“Don’t talk,” says the Jones.
A few minutes later, something hums, something clatters, something lumbers up the Rhoad. It’s a transpore is what, and Vera gives a shudder at the sight.
Something gets out. Waddles and jitters, jerks to a stop, just inside the square. Vera shakes her head, tries to make it out. Looks like a pile of rusty buckets, barrels, cans stuck together like a man.
“Pleasant greety to you all,” it says in a shiver, in a quaver, in a squeak. “I am Monitor Man. Coming together we are on this sad occasion. Have to, way it’s got to be. Stats tell it all, know what I mean. Drassik and Earth been at it now nine-hundred-sixty-two-years. Earth population down seven-seven-six. Drassik, eighty-three. Got to quit, got to stop. Got it signed, got it sealed, got the treaty right here.”
Bucket man looks at Vera, looks at Grii. Looks at the man in the black and white suit. Turns, squeaks, walks to his transpore, hums away quick.
“I will be your Referee,” says black and white man. “Grii, you will stand here. You will face the west. Vera, you will face the east. This coin,” he says, drawing something shiny something from the pocket of his suit, “This coin will determine the outcome of this event.”
“Just what event’s that, I’d like to know,” Vera says.
“Whatsa we du, whereas me at?” says Grii.
Referee sighs. “Are both sides ready? May we please begin?”
“Fine. Vera Lea, as you have adequate hands, you will toss the coin. Grii, as visiting contestant, you will say “heads” or “tails” while the coin is in the air. If the coin lands on the side you call, your world will remain intact, and Earth will proceed with voluntary annihilation. Or, on the other hand, Drassik will do the same. Vera Lea, here is the coin. Ready, Grii? Ready, Vera Lea? When I raise my hand, you may begin.”
“Don’ wantsa du thiss,” Grii shouts, ripping the air with fearsome flatulation. “Is baad iss whasa is!”
“Goes for me, too,” says Vera Lea. “You folks flat outta you heads is what you be.”
Referee looks at the darkening sky. Glares at the Sarah and the Jones.
“You got these folks all set up straight or not?”
“Of course we do,” says the Jones. “How dare you ask us that.”
“You apologize,” the Sarah says. “You take that back.”
“Uh-huh. Just like I thought,” Referee says. “Didn’t tell ‘em a friggin’ thing, did you, now?”
Then, before anyone can blink, Referee brings a shiny brass weapon from his vest, triggers it twice. The Jones and the Sarah sizzle, fall away in ash.
“Monitor Man hears ‘bout this...” he mumbles to himself, and turns on Vera and Grii. “Toss it and call it, folks. Let’s get ‘er done now.”
Vera flips,
coin dips,
“Tayuuuls” says Grii.
“Aw shiit,” says Vera Lea…
“Have to say, this ‘bout the most dis-gusting thing I ever seen,” says Vera Lea. “I am flat shamed to be part of it’s what I am.”
“Iss baad,” says Grii. “Baad’s what it be.”
“That all you got to say?” says Vera. “Don’t have to keep sayin’ it again.”
She looks back at the square, all abandoned now, poles and lights and chairs all carted off and gone. Wonders how the toss came out. Wished she’d had the nerve to ask. When she glances back at Grii, he’s ambling up the Rhoad, dripping a trail of nasties behind.
“Oh, sure, you got that shiny thing, somewhere to sleep,” she mutters to herself.
Not about to start walking in the dark. Don’t know the woods, don’t know they brought me a
hundred miles or ten…
Settling back against her tree, thinks what she’ll tell them back home. Might be nothing, best to let it be. Tossing around, getting settled for the night, finds the sack of sugarflies crumpled in her pocket. Thinks about saving ‘em for morning, on the way back.
Remembers there might not be any morning, eats the whole sack. Closes her eyes, lays back. Says the words for dark of night--
bless the roots,
bless the sap,
when I wake
may the devil
take a nap...
Pet Rock
Sanford Allen
The crew of the Carpathia transports a strange rock,
whose secret rattles even the more experienced space travelers,
in Sanford Allen’s tale of terror in space.
Noor Sayed knelt beside the Carpathia’s airlock and peered in at the specimen that had ripped her away from family and downtime.
The rust brown chunk of stone on the other side of the Atmoscarrier’s duraplastic window was no bigger than a newborn infant. No colorful veins ran through it. No ancient carvings or face-like crevices embellished its surface.
The stone certainly didn’t seem special enough to warrant the sacrifice of a promised month of R&R at the station for she and three other crewmembers.
“Didn’t SeleMine just spend forty billion on remotes to do these kinds of collections?” Noor asked.
Palacios, the Carpathia’s science officer, popped the helmet of her vacsuit. She and Kirby, the ship’s engineer, had ventured onto the planet surface for the specimen.
“They wanted it stowed in an atmospheric chamber for the ride home.” Palacios jerked a thumb at the airlock door. “None of their remotes are equipped to replicate the weird hydrogen blend outside.”
Kirby turned sideways to navigate the narrow hall in his bulky suit. He flung his helmet into the equipment locker.
“Babysitting a chunk of
sandstone isn’t your idea of a good time?” he asked.
Noor stood. “Not when I could have been on a shuttle back to Earth. I wanted to see my brother and his family for Eid.”
Captain Xiu’s voice sounded behind them.
“And don’t think that I’m not grateful for your sacrifice, navigator.” He sauntered into the hall from the direction of the bridge. “Believe me, I played it up to SeleMine when I talked them into paying us a double rate.”
“No complaints here.” Kirby stepped out of his suit. Its metal articulation bands rattled on the floor grate. “I’d scoop up fossilized dog turds for that kind of money.”
Xiu took his turn kneeling beside the Atmoscarrier. He squinted inside and shrugged.
“Way I figure, it’s a pet rock,” he said.
“Pet rock?” Noor raised an eyebrow.
“You should have paid attention in History of Pop Culture class,” Xiu said. “Last century, a smart businessman figured out how to sell people rocks that they could find in any riverbed. If SeleMine wants to overpay us for this little thing, I’m happy to do my entrepreneurial duty.”
“I’d still rather be Earthbound,” Noor said. Her empty stomach rumbled. She always got cranky at the end of Ramadan.
“When you get your check, you can fly your whole clan station-side and put them up in the best suite,” Xiu said. “Tell them SeleMine picked up the bill.”
“Why’s the company so interested in these stupid rocks?” Noor asked. “Excuse my ignorance, but twelve hours’ notice didn’t leave much time to read the briefing.”
“They move.” Palacios, now free of her suit, picked up the Atmoscarrier and started for the science bay. “They crawl around the planet surface.”
#
The crew watched over Palacios’ shoulder as she tapped at the controls to the science bay’s laser cutter.
Rayguns Over Texas Page 23
