"How wide an area would they need to eliminate human life in?"
"We don't know," Sonja murmured.
"That's a question we want to start trying to answer," said Dan. "We were planning on an expedition to a nearby town in the morning."
"Another question," said Diana, "is how many 'zoo animals' did they drop? I've seen far too many to fit in the one ship that landed by the lake."
"There must be more cylinders like that one," said Donny. "There were thousands of creatures on your ship – right, Myth?"
"Number much too small."
Diana paled. Looking around the table, she saw she wasn't the only one whose face had lost some color. Except for Penny, who was happily inhaling her plate of stew.
"They also hit us with some form of EMP," said Diana. "But I haven't seen any hint of the power coming back on."
"It's more than that," said Donny. "First, an EMP wouldn't damage batteries unless they were in a device connected to an electrical power source. Second, I've experimentally confirmed that some form of energy damper is in place with my hand-powered generator. No matter how fast I turn it, the electricity output doesn't rise past a minimal reading."
"Funny." Diana felt a cold breeze on the back of her neck as she considered the implications. "I had the same experience with the hand-cranked generator that's a backup power source for my husband's shortwave radio."
"Yes!" Donny's smile wilted a little under the frowning looks from around the table. "I'm not saying that's a good thing. I just mean we have confirming evidence!"
"How could something 'dampen' electricity?"
"One electromagnetic field could dampen another by opposing or 'jamming' it. Or a general dampening field like used in Star Trek. Or energy could be absorbed by particles at the subatomic level."
Diana stared at him. The standout intellect in this Norman Rockwell family? He stood out physically as well in this family of attractive, tall, and athletic-looking individuals, looking relatively scrawny and pale and rather androgynous with his long, scraggly blond hair and round-cheeked prepubescent face. Diana would never have guessed he was a Jensen, but perhaps he was the kind of oddball Jensen they all needed right now.
"Why did they take out the power, however they did it?" she asked.
"I guess for the same reason they killed most of the human race: to protect their animals. Even a small number of people could be deadly with machines and the power grid operating."
"We don't know that most of the human race has been killed," Sonja said in a quiet, strained voice.
"It's the only hypothesis that makes sense to me."
Diana noted the uncomfortable looks between Sonja and Dan and also that no one rushed in to refute him.
"That's the consensus?" she asked. "What happened here happened everywhere on the planet?"
The uncomfortable looks became uncomfortable shrugs.
"Of course, we can't be sure," said Dan in a heavy voice. "But yeah, I think most of are leaning toward that direction."
Diana stirred her stew. Its heavenly aroma had gone flat, along with her appetite.
"I was thinking of going into Minden tomorrow," said Dan. "It's a bit over twenty miles. My parents live there. It would be the first time we've gone out of the area. You're welcome to join us."
"I'll take you up on that."
"I noticed you seem comfortable with your rifle. You have experience shooting?"
"Some."
Dan looked at her as if he wanted to ask more, but decided not to press the matter.
"Would I be incredibly nosy if I asked what you and your husband did for a living?" Sonja asked. "I'm a GP, by the way. I have an office at the clinic section of the hospital. You can probably guess what my husband does." She nodded to the nearby fields.
"Or did," said Dan, his smile bleak.
"The past tense would apply to all of us, I'm guessing," said Diana. "My husband did accounting work for International Travel Services. So did I."
They all resumed eating. The old quandary, Diana thought. How much to tell? An easy decision with people she barely knew: their standard story about working for International Travel Services, Inc. as "accountant-auditors" was pretty much guaranteed to stifle further questioning. What could possibly be interesting about being an accountant or an auditor? Also, the "auditing" part tended to induce an uneasy association for many people with the IRS. It sounded both boring and perhaps a bit brutal while explaining why they were gone so often.
To close family and friends outside the Agency, the choice was much harder and more stressful. She and Dean had found it nearly impossible to maintain close friendships with people outside their intelligence circles. Diana had never told her blabbermouth parents what she did. She'd never confided in even her former best friend from college. It had been the same for Dean. Everyone in the civilian sector continued to believe they worked for the famous corporation.
But now... Diana stabbed a piece of roast with her fork and frowned. If the world truly had ended, there was no point in maintaining secrecy about her past. Still, until she was certain that the Apocalypse had truly come she'd continue to play by the rules.
"Did you get to do a lot of traveling?" Sonja asked her.
"A fair amount."
"That's something I've always wanted to do." Her glance at her husband held a small accusation, Diana thought. "But it's hard to get away. When the kids are older, we'll have a bit more flexibility." Her smile faltered. "Or that was the plan."
"Well, it gets old after a while, believe me," said Diana.
"You don't have children?"
"No. We talked about it, but the time never seemed right."
She didn't hear any remorse in her voice, but Sonja and her husband's eyes still shone with sympathy. Naturally, they'd assume that life without children had to be a minor form of hell and that she was consumed with regret. Now she thanked Fate and all the fickle gods that they'd never had children and was saved having to bury their bodies in the moist spring dirt.
"I could be your daughter, Diana!" Penny proclaimed. "Since my parents are dead."
Startled and terrified expressions spread like wildfire around the table. Sonja gave a small gasp that she cut short with a cough. Laurie and her father exchanged raised-eyebrow looks. Diana was still debating how much and how soon to tell her new friends about Penny and the circumstances in which she'd found her. They certainly deserved to know.
"We're very sorry you lost your family, Penny," said Sonja in a cautious voice.
The girl shrugged. "They were kinda dumb, anyway. They never understood anything I said. Grandpa Hanson was okay, but he was really old, you know?" When no one responded, she tapped Diana on her shoulder. "But Diana is smart and tough! You should've seen what we did to those disgusting creatures that attacked us!"
As Diana rubbed her shoulder, Dan cleared his throat.
"You ran into some trouble at your place?"
Diana nodded. "We had a visit from the nonlocal wildlife. Some things I would describe as 'killer elves' which sport some nasty stingers, plus a pack of apelike creatures."
"We know the 'killer elves,'" said Dan. "Haven't had the pleasure of meeting anything apelike."
"I'm fairly sure it wouldn't be a pleasure. They're roughly man-sized and look something like an oversized chimp mated with an oversized baboon..."
Diana described her two encounters with the baboon-creatures and the battle in her yard.
"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Penny or Zurzay," she concluded.
While Penny beamed, Dan traded grim glances with his wife and daughter.
"I was afraid we hadn't seen all the deadly cargo they dropped here," he sighed.
"It sounds like they've learned some fear of firearms," said Sonja. "Maybe they'll leave us alone now?"
Dan gave Diana a bleak smile. "Wouldn't that be nice?"
Chapter 6
HUMAN DREAMS WERE PECULIAR, thought Myth. Or perhaps it was just this individual hu
man. Its connection to others was so strong. The memories of the human's family were fuzzy, but the emotions seemed overpowering. So much pain and yearning.
It was her first transition. She was never supposed to have transitioned. The Keepers had kept her and her people carefully insulated from the very possibility. They were the rare few still living in their native, original state.
The Amalgam, the Keepers called them. Those who join with others.
The Keepers knew so many things. When they refused to answer it was because they'd decided it was best the kept didn't know. She'd learned much from them. Something about her own species and something about the others. Her people were among the few who had words, who could ask questions. Perhaps the Keepers wearied of answering them at times. They were not unkind. But they had their own ends.
Her home with the others had been spacious. She had not thought so until their home had been broken and they had been shunted into "escape vessels." The Keepers had offered little explanation. She and her ten brethren had been separated from the others. The Keepers promised them a life of opportunity to fulfill their natures which they otherwise would never have known. They had fallen into a strange sleep, only to awaken to a strange new world.
To all but herself and two others, death had come swiftly. Though they had been safely released apart from the others, they'd soon encountered beings that considered them food. The Ekorake – "Stinging Death" – creatures who resembled the Keepers and bore some relation to them. The Nazrene – what she and her people called "The Pack" – with their ugly hair and sharp teeth. The Ekorake had killed three. The Pack had dragged off four others to do with them what she did not wish to imagine. The Pack loved to play with its food.
But she and two others, Singer and Maze, had escaped. They might also be dead, but perhaps not. The important thing was that she lived, and had, at last, fulfilled her destiny to join with another. She had chosen well: no mindless beast, but the smartest and most able species on this world. She knew that from the being's memories.
And Marjorie Wilson would be just the beginning.
GARY HANSON awoke hungry. In more ways than one.
There was a delectable odor in the air that made his stomach rumble and his groin tingle. He rolled over in bed and spotted the source of the smell: his sister lying with her back to him, her long, soft neck exposed under a tangle of dishwater-blond hair. He breathed her in, the pure beauty of her aroma making his nostrils twitch.
He climbed out of bed, feeling lightheaded and dizzy but determined. This was going to be fun. He wasn't quite sure what "this" was, but the lustful images forming in his mind provided a clue. As did his member straining against his boxer shorts. He'd had thoughts like these before, but had instantly buried them. Now they were free. And freedom tasted of reality. He wasn't sure what that meant, but he'd heard it somewhere and liked the sound of it.
He crossed the space between their beds, feeling stronger and less lightheaded with each step. A power burned in his body, a new restless strength in his muscles. He felt he could leap through the basement's ceiling or even smash through its concrete block walls.
He lifted his sister's blankets and crawled into bed, nestling in behind her. Her soft, warm skin sent shivers through him. He touched his lips to the base of her neck, flicking his tongue on the succulent flesh there. He wanted desperately to bite down, but first things first.
"Mmmm." Cindy stirred. "What...?" She started to twist toward him, but Gary clamped his arms around her shoulders, holding her in place. "Gary?"
"Yes."
"You're awake!"
"True."
"But...could you stop that? Please?"
"Stop what?" He was grinding against her.
"You know. I'm glad you're awake, but you can't..."
"I need you."
"No. Please stop." She squirmed, but could not budge his grip. "Let me sit up. Let's talk."
"About what?"
"What do you remember?"
"Getting sick. Falling asleep."
"Yes. But Gary..." She reached down and tried to push his grinding hips away. "Something terrible happened. There's some kind of alien invasion. Almost everyone is dead. Our family..." She made a choking sound. "They're all gone. It's just you and I."
"Really?" Her brother nibbled on her shoulder. "Bummer."
"What...?" Her breath caught as he began to find purchase below. "Gary, you have to stop. God, please stop!"
"Sorry." His body contracted as he pushed into her. "No can do."
"Uhhh..." Cindy released a shuddering breath. "Okay. You're not yourself. I...understand."
He bit down a bit and tasted blood. It was heavenly – as sweet as what was happening below. He increased the speed of his thrusts.
"Gary. That hurts."
"Does it?"
He bit down harder. Blood squirted into the back of his throat. Cindy squealed. He snaked a hand out under her head and covered her mouth. The taste was amazing. Better than the best dinner his mom had ever made. Way better. But then she hadn't been much of a cook.
Vague memories of his past life surfaced. He dismissed them. They meant next to nothing to him now. Now was this incredible, delicious moment.
His body stiffened under a paroxysm of sensation. Then, with that out of the way, his full attention turned on his growling stomach and ravaging hunger. He chomped down until his teeth struck bone. Cindy screamed into his hand. Gary lifted his mouth toward a pulsing in her throat and chewed his way in toward its source. Blood gushed down his throat. After a while, his sister's struggles ceased and she lay limp in his arms. A pity. He was enjoying her struggles. Oh, well. She still tasted incredible.
Upstairs, Sonja paused in scrambling eggs in the iron pan over the woodstove and turned to her son.
"Donny, would you get Cindy up. We're about ready to eat."
Donny sighed and trudged over to the basement door near the kitchen. He opened the door and shouted: "Hey, Cindy, breakfast is almost ready. You should get dressed or whatever."
He half-hoped she wouldn't get dressed or would put on that thin bathrobe she'd worn yesterday morning. He knew he was developing a childish crush on her, but what the heck, he was a child, sort of, and the end of the world as they knew it would logically bring forth silly primitive urges. Might as go with it. Silly urges wouldn't hurt anyone.
He heard some sheet-shufflings, but Cindy didn't reply. A little odd, because she was polite to a fault.
"Cindy," he called again. "Sorry to break into your beauty rest." Not that she needed any rest for that, he added silently. "But the eggs will be getting cold."
Donny caught a whiff of something. Something off. He sniffed. Maybe Gary Hanson had finally died and he was smelling his corpse? Lovely thought, Don, he told himself. But it would be a relief. The dude probably never was going to wake up, and his vegetable life had made his hot sister into his perpetual nursemaid. He kept subtly trying to get her to do stuff with him, but she always had to get back to her corpse-like brother to change his pants or whatever. It was kind of gross if he was being truthful.
But no, he thought, sniffing again, it wasn't a dead body smell. More like the odor in the barn after his dad had butchered some chickens. Kind of an abattoir deal. Huh. Maybe he should take a look?
Donny got about halfway down the stairs before he froze. The unfolding scene grew more disturbing and bizarre with each step. First, there was a line – well, more of a barrier reef, really – of dark liquid and fleshy chunks on the near side of Cindy's bed. Second, the sheets and blankets dangling off the edge of the bed appeared freshly dyed a deep crimson red. The dye job continued to the top of the bed where an also blood-red figure was hunched over a pale, naked female body. It took a second or two before Donny processed the fact that the body belonged to the erstwhile subject of his crush, Cindy Hanson. Another couple of seconds before it registered that Cindy's jerking motions corresponded to the blood-crowned head jerking and bobbing in her cavernous chest
cavity.
That head reared up abruptly, the whites of its eyes and the rows of sharp white teeth in its grin contrasted violently with the blood-spattered face and glowing reddish hue of his skin. Gary Hanson. Donny gripped the banister. Gary had awakened. And it appeared he had undergone some personality changes.
Donny started a stiff-legged retreat back up the stairs under Gary's unrelenting gaze, which he could only describe as "maniacal." Donny reminded himself to breathe. It seemed like a bad idea to faint and crumble down the stairs about now. He kept waiting for the oldest Hanson brother to spring up from the bed and reach him in an explosive sprint up the steps that Donny would be helpless to escape, but the muscular teenager simply stared at him with slowly narrowing eyes.
Donny backed onto the kitchen floor and shut the door softly shut behind him. He turned to his family. Laurie raised her fine blond-red eyebrows. His mother frowned. Dad paused with a forkful of scrambled eggs near his mouth.
"Uh..." Donny's voice emerged in a scratchy, old man's whisper. He pointed a trembling finger at the door. "Zombie."
"What?" his mom asked.
"Flesh-eating zombie." He pointed to the door again.
Dan lowered his fork-full of eggs. "Could you please speak up, son?"
"It's Gary..." Donny cleared his throat, pointing to the door again. "He killed Cindy, and he's, uh, eating her..."
"Eating her?"
Sonja stared at him as if she couldn't possibly be hearing right. Dan set down his plate and rose, his eyes meeting his wife's before flicking to the rifle leaning against a far wall. The other weapons were on the couch and chairs in the adjacent living room. Laurie and her father raced for their guns in the same moment.
The basement door flew open and a red figure burst into the kitchen, smacking Donny aside en route to the front door. Rushing for her weapon, Laurie felt she was moving in slow motion. As she reached for her AR, she saw him pause with one hand on the doorknob and look back at her. He flashed her this weird, demented grin – and then time seemed to resume as she snatched up her rifle and he ripped open the door with enough force to send hinges and splintered wood flying.
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