I assumed he'd gotten into some kind of acid but when I asked what kind it was, he started shouting about how an eel or snake monster had tried to eat him. Your MP's didn't happen to find something like that in the morgue trailer, after the fire, did they?” She asked, with a half smile.
Abrahms didn't smile back as he shook his head no and said, “Please continue.”
“Well, he said the eel thing had swum up through Aswan's dissolving guts. 'Guts' was his word not mine. Anyway, the eel swallowed or engulfed his hand and began working its way up his arm when he said he yelled for help. Said the lights in the trailer went out when someone slammed the rear doors to the trailer,” she said and coughed softly before continuing. “I was in the morgue a couple of days ago and some jackass shut the doors on me too.
I remember the lights do switch off automatically when they're shut. Whoever designed that feature should be shot. I wasn't scared, I've been around thousands of dead bodies before, but it still royally pissed me off.”
“Doctor, please just stick to anything else Wilcox may of said.”
“Well, he was crying as he talked about being in the dark with a monster swallowing his arm. He didn't really say anything else that made any kind of sense. Just monsters and bugs and lasers.”
“Bugs and lasers?”
“I think the sedatives had taken hold by then. I wouldn't have been surprised if he said a giant pink bunny came hopping in and shoved a carrot up his butt, at that point.” She grinned at the thought.
“What kind of bug did he describe?”
“As I recall it, he said something like a couple of roaches burned the eel off his arm with lasers that came from their eyes,” she said, shaking her head.
“I take it you don't believe it?”
“Laser shooting roaches that melt eels off of people's arms? Why of course I believe it. Must happen every day all over the world. Are you nuts?”
He looked at her and tapped his pad of paper for several long seconds before asking, “You've been in that trailer morgue, right? In all the times you were in there, did you ever see anything- ANYTHING- that could dissolve his flesh or set the place on fire?”
“There's a small chemical storage closet that has several items that could cause the injuries he suffered. But, why he'd mess around with those in the first place, I haven't a clue,” she said, resting her head on her folded arms on the desk. Stifling a yawn she continued, “And before you ask, yes several of them are highly flammable and could have started the morgue fire.”
Colonel Abrahms yawned and tossed the pen on the pad of paper. Leaning back in the chair, he rubbed at his eyes as he spoke. “Okay doctor, unless you can think of anything else Wilcox said, I think I've got enough for my report.”
For several moments she stared at the coffee cup a few inches away.
He thought she was trying to remember something and sipped from his own cup while glancing at his watch. Dawn's gonna be here soon. It's been a long sleepless night. I'm gonna need buckets of coffee to make it through the day. Whoa! What's that?
Abrahms was looking at the doctor, but out of the corner of his eye something small and brown caught his eye. It was moving slowly along the wall just behind her and to the right. Without turning his head, he focused on it.
In his younger days, long before making the military his career, he'd been a fairly respectable pitcher for his school's baseball team. Gripping the coffee cup tightly, he yawned while stretching his arms out to the sides.
In his mind he heard an announcer saying, “This is it ladies and gentlemen. Bottom of the ninth with the bases loaded. Abrahms is winding up for the pitch that not only could win the World Series, but perhaps save all humanity from being incinerated or maybe just enslaved by an ill tempered alien menace. He throws his fast ball and zowee wowee folks, look at it fly!”
From his perspective, time slowed down as the cup tumbled end over end. A single brown droplet of coffee fell out just a moment before the cup hit the motionless roach on the wall.
The nearly unconscious doctor woke up screaming as the ceramic cup exploded on impact with the wall behind her. A few pieces landed in her hair and bounced off her back while she jumped up in shock. She watched in confused terror as the wild eyed Abrahms ran swiftly around the table and squatted down with a Billy club in his hand. Turning around, she was more confused as the colonel started laughing.
On the floor in front of him, a badly injured roach crawled amongst the shards of the cup. Continuing to laugh while shaking his head, he whacked the insect with his club and quickly ended the roach's life with a messy finality.
*****
Around back of the McGee house, Avery lowered the flashlight beam out of the woman's face. “Are you okay? I heard gunfire.”
Shannon grunted and tried not to wince in spite of her back spasming. “Was shooting off a lock. I dropped my gun. Give me your flashlight and you can go back over by the garage, where it's safe.”
Avery heard the pain in her voice and looked down for the gun. In the grass near the open cellar door he spotted the glinting metal. “It's right here. I'll get it,” he whispered, moving toward it.
“No. I can get it,” she said in a normal conversational voice as she trembled in increasing pain. A spasm hit while she was just starting to bend over. Had the picnic table not been there to grab onto she'd have fallen again.
Avery bent over and handed her the gun. “There's no shame in accepting a little help, ma'am.”
Another bright flash of light came through the open cellar doorway accompanied by an increase in pitch of the whining noise. Turning his flashlight onto the cellar steps he asked, “What the Hell is that?”
“Don't know but I'm going to find out. I need to borrow your flashlight. You stay here or better yet get your butt back over by the garage. There's a couple of badly hurt guys over there,” she said, taking his flashlight and walking gingerly toward the steps.
“There's only one hurt guy over there now. My hunting buddy died a minute ago. And besides, I don't care if you say you're FBI or not I can't let you go down there alone. Yer moving as steady as a drunk in a hurricane,” he said, walking over and holding out his arm. “If you want to go down there, I'm coming with you. Plus, if this is the thing that almost killed Allison then I owe it to her to go. She's a sweet lady if ever there was one.”
Too hurt and tired to object further, she grabbed his arm and let him help her down the cellar steps.
Upstairs, staring in the bathroom mirror, Thomas hardly recognized himself. What little hair he had left was usually a wispy grayish white color, but now it was slicked back with dark blood. His head hurt and he felt dizzy. Holding onto the bathroom counter with both hands he tried to remember what had happened. He looked at the chunks and splintered pieces of wood scattered across the floor of the bathroom and shook his head slightly. A bolt of fierce and unexpected pain made his knees shudder as a small trickle of blood flowed over his forehead and ran down his face.
Oh shit. I'm gonna die and I don't even know what happened to me. I gotta call for an ambulance or get Sally to help me, he thought, stepping slowly through the remains of the bathroom door and into the hallway. Running his hand along the wall for support, the old man moved steadily slower until he entered the brightly lit living room.
Growing louder in the distance were sirens and he thought from the look of his ruined bath and living room it seemed only appropriate that someone had called the police. A man he didn't recognize was sprawled on the floor amongst the splintered remains of Sally's antique curio cabinet.
The young man stared at the ceiling with milky white eyes. His neck was bent at a sharp angle with a jagged gash that ran from just under his ear to his collar bone. Plus it looked like someone had beaten him considerably and Thomas couldn't help feeling sorry for him even though he had no idea who the stranger was.
Standing by the shut front door, looking outside, was a young girl. Somehow she seemed vaguely familiar, but t
he harder he tried to remember her the more his head hurt. His legs trembled as he made his way to the recliner and sat down.
“Excuse me Miss, but do I know you? I think I busted up my noggin somehow and now things are jumbled up a bit. Do you know what’s- uh what’s g..going on around h...here? Have you seen my wife, S..Sally?” Thomas asked, speaking gradually slower and stuttering as he went.
Betty turned and looked at the old man.
His face was covered in multiple small streams of blood and the skin was a light gray almost white color.
“I am your Granddaughter, Betty. As to what's going on... perhaps the end of humanity except for a handful of the chosen.”
The sounds of sirens and squealing tires accompanied her last statement.
Thomas felt dizzy and tired as he tried to focus on the girl. Opening his mouth to say something else, his eyes grew wide and his body began to shudder violently. After a few seconds he became still and his head drooped forward.
Betty walked over and looked at the top of the old man's bloody head. A raggedly torn section of scalp exposed part of his skull. Through the bloody mess several jagged irregularly shaped pieces of bone were visible. She moved her hand toward the wound but stopped abruptly just inches from touching it.
She stared at the open wound and began to speak to no one in the room that Tom Sawyer could see. The cat watched her warily as it jumped up onto the old man's lap and began purring.
The old man smelled strongly of death, but the young man on the floor stank even more of it. The cat could tell the old man wasn't dead yet while wondering who would get him his dinner if he did die.
The thing that looked like a girl stood perfectly still with her mouth partly open and a small voice that did not belong to her drifted out as the cat tilted its head and listened.
“No, do not waste energy saving him. We should release the virus now before the ship is damaged or destroyed.”
“Wait. The situation is unfortunate. However, it is not yet beyond saving. We brought the ship here for repairs. There was no way to know Orlando was here,” Betty said softly through lips that barely moved.
She remained motionless for several long seconds as the cat, oblivious to their global ramifications, listened as the faint voices drifted again through her still partially open mouth.
“Coexistence with humanity is not feasible. No amount of time or research will change this fact. This situation is unacceptable. The ship will be discovered by the law enforcement agents surrounding this building.”
“We need not release the virus yet. A scapegoat is all we need to divert them. If it fails to work, then yes, perhaps the virus should be released,” Betty said softly.
“That won't prevent the ship being discovered.”
“No it will not, but the scapegoat will divert attention away from Betty and the ship. There is no reason not to try,” she said.
A long silence followed before a voice from outside on a bullhorn nearly drowned out the soft reply of, “Proceed with the goat.”
“Orlando Duprat! This is Sheriff Harrison, we know you're in there! The house is surrounded, come out now with your hands up and you won't be harmed! You have my word on that!” A few seconds went by before he continued. “You have two minutes! Come out or we're coming in!”
Tom hissed and his fur puffed up as a large rat quickly ran into the living room dragging a long length on clothesline in its mouth. Two roaches scurried over to the dead body laying on the floor as Betty sat down in an old sturdy oak chair. She took an end of the clothes line the rat dropped at her feet and rapidly tied both of her ankles to the chair, before securing her left wrist to the armrest.
The rat climbed up in her lap and used its small dexterous claws and teeth to tie her other arm securely down.
By the time she was fully secured to the chair, Orlando was standing up. In spite of his broken neck and lack of life. He moved jerkily yet swiftly down the hallway.
Tom yowled at the departing dead man and the rat that followed him.
“Things may yet be alright, Tom. If everything works out I will get your can of cat food in a few minutes. Now I must prepare for the police,” Betty said, before hanging her head down feigning unconsciousness.
“You have one minute! Don't be a fool, Orlando, just come out with your hands up!”
“Everyone's in position,” a young deputy said, pumping a shell into his riot shotgun.
“Careful son. And remember to go slow on the trigger. Duprat might have a hostage and the last thing we need is to get them killed,” the sheriff said, looking over the yard at the five squad cars parked in the McGee's front yard. Orlando Duprat's not getting out of this unless he can sprout wings.
*****
“Have you got a variable spectrum radio unit?” Dr. Everson asked upon returning to the small lab.
“A what?” The technician asked, while looking out the window at the purple sky on the eastern horizon.
“While in the kitchenette down the hall, I was talking to a guy who told me about how soldiers would use a device to run through the radio spectrum including those in the cell phone range to check for suspected improvised explosive devices. If they were rigged to explode using a cell phone they could set them off at a safe distance. So, again I ask, do you have anything like that?” Everson explained.
“Not here but the communications division must have one they could let us borrow. Want me to go get one?”
“Yeah, I think with a little luck we can get this thing to yield a few of its secrets. I'm gonna go grab some breakfast while you get it set up. We'll give it a try in about an hour. Want me to snag something for you while I'm out?” Everson asked, smiling tiredly.
“If you're going to Finches Restaurant avoid to sausage biscuits. They're the nastiest things ever. But I could force down some eggs and bacon if you don't mind.”
“Okay, you get the doohickey set up and I'll be back in a few minutes with breakfast. ”Everson said looking at the enigmatic milky white cube in the center of the table. He leaned down and trying to sound like a Nazi interrogator from an old movie, whispered to it after the tech left the room. “We have ways of making you talk, my little friend.”
*****
“Young man, what did you say your name was again?”
“I'm agent Simon Hicks with the FBI. And you're Sally McGee, right?”
“Yes sir. What on Earth do you think is going on out there, Simon? It sounds like an army of police are stomping around my yard. Do you think my granddaughter and husband Thomas are okay?” She asked in a soft scared voice.
“You said you were asleep when I was brought in here. A very bad man, who according to the sheriff yelling through the bullhorn outside, named Orlando Duprat took me hostage. He could have shot me, but didn't so I'd bet your husband and granddaughter are okay too. How are you doing?”
“I'm tired, young man; bone tired. But it takes more than being trapped in a shed full of nasty snakes and lying on top of rafters all night to beat this old woman down. I slept on my daughter's sleeper sofa a few years ago, around Christmas, and it wasn't much more comfortable than being up here. There was a metal bar under the mattress that I thought it was gonna slice me in two before Santa got there, but I made it then and I'll make it now.”
A voice from outside said, “Let it rip.” And a second later white puffs of air came through the gap under the door.
Sally's eyes went round in fear as more of it drifted across the floor.
“It's okay, Sally. They're using CO2 fire extinguishers to make the snakes either leave or become stunned so they can get us down. It won't be long now. See, look at them moving away from the door. Snakes don't like the cold, Sally,” Hicks said, watching as they slithered toward the other side of the shed, away from the door.
“Simon, may I ask you a personal question?” Sally asked, blushing a little.
“Yes ma'am.”
“I can't think of a delicate way to put this but ever since you'v
e been in here, I've smelled something like- um... an outhouse kind of aroma. Did you have an accident?” Sally asked, with a sympathetic expression.
Nodding, Hicks smiled weakly. “It's a long story Sally. I'm sorry you had to put up with my smell. I'll make it up to you somehow.”
She grinned back saying, “Don't feel too bad, young man. I had a bit of an accident myself when I was climbing up here to get away from the snakes, too. If anyone gives you any grief over it tell them I said a rose by any other name smells as sweet.
I'm sorry you had to be cooped up in here with me all night, but I'm also grateful to have had the company. Because there's only one thing worse than being stuck in a shed full of snakes.”
“Being stuck in a shed full of snakes all alone?”
“You bet your stinky butt,” Sally said and they both laughed as a fireman slowly and carefully pried open the door below.
At the bottom of the cellar steps there was a huge stack of split firewood that almost reached the ceiling, a wooden workbench to the right, and a stone wall to the left. The only way further into the basement was a space between the firewood and the workbench.
The source of the pulsing light was behind the stack of wood and the whining sound reminded both Shannon and Avery of a dentist's drill as they walked closer. It cycled up in time with the lights. The overhead lights were turned on in the cellar and Avery shut off his flashlight and set it on the workbench.
With each agonizing step, Agent Shannon Mendez had to fight back a powerful urge to swear. Whatever she'd done to her back was going to require some time off and it was the thought of taking a couple of weeks off to visit the Bahamas that kept her moving forward. Fun in the sun, fun in the sun, I'm going to have some fun in the sun. And maybe a few adult beverages with the fruit and little paper umbrellas in them too. All I gotta do is make it through this and then it's time for some fun in the sun.