Scifi Motherlode Page 14
When the three of them reached the bunker, Stiletto gave the metal door a push. When it wouldn’t open, she turned her attention to what looked like a release mechanism.
The release mechanism consisted of a keypad at eye level with ten push buttons. Each button was imprinted with an alien symbol; Stiletto’s wild guess was that the symbols corresponded to the numbers zero through nine.
"Numeric code lock," she said, aiming her fingertip sensors at the mechanism. "Normally, I could crack this puppy open in a heartbeat."
"But?" said Candle.
"The device isn’t electronic, so it’ll take my flash-brain longer to analyze it."
Candle sighed. "What about you?" he said to Luma. "Have any idea how to open the door?"
Luma frowned and rubbed an eye with her fist. "Mommy taught me a song, but I don’t know if I can remember all the words right now."
"You remember the tune at least?" said Candle.
"Maybe."
"How about giving it a try?" said Candle.
Stiletto was about to say something when she caught the smell of vinegar in the air. Before she even looked at the readout of the flash-brain, her heart started to pound.
Raising her warflower, she turned away from the door.
"Pass," she said, keeping her voice perfectly even. "Multiple Skilla life signs, coming in fast."
Candle nodded. "Guess our friends aren’t so nocturnal after all."
In the distance, Stiletto could hear the clattering of claws. Hundreds of them.
Getting closer every second.
"How about if you work with Luma on remembering that song?" said Candle. "Music isn’t my strong suit."
Stiletto moved in and took Luma, balancing the little girl’s weight on her hip.
"Try to make it a fast number," said Candle. "Not that I expect much trouble at all whatsoever."
With a wink, he walked off to face the horde of creatures stampeding down the street.
*****
Candle stationed himself twenty meters from the bunker and immediately opened fire. He blasted his warflower into the fog for a full minute before he finally caught his first glimpse of the Skilla.
One of the creatures slipped through the field of fire and lunged toward him. It was as big as a rhinoceros, with six lean legs and claws like scimitars. A huge scorpion’s tail arced over its body, tipped with a spiked stinger as big as a man’s head. Its torso was covered in long, crimson spines that glistened as if they were wet.
It had a face like an open wound lined with razor-sharp teeth.
As the warflower’s beam lashed into the Skilla, Candle was disappointed. He had hoped that seeing the enemy would have made it seem less intimidating.
Now, he wished that the Skilla had stayed out of sight.
*****
Stiletto would’ve thought, with the legion of Skilla attacking, that her biggest challenge would be calming Luma down. Instead, she had to fight to keep the little girl awake.
"Luma," Stiletto said sharply, shaking the girl in her arms. "How did the song go?"
Luma hummed three notes and closed her eyes.
Stiletto shook her. "Sing the song. The one about the door."
Luma’s eyes drifted open. "Five laughing children standing in the rain," she sang softly, and then she stopped.
"Luma!" The sounds of battle filled Stiletto’s ears.
Luma’s eyes dropped shut, then popped open."Five laughing children standing in the rain," she sang. "One of them’s a three-year-old and two are six and ten."
Stiletto memorized the sequence of numbers from the song: five, one, three, two, six, one, zero.
"Number one is six feet tall and always gets the door," Luma sang without opening her eyes. "But Mommy says the ones she loves the best are two and four." Luma yawned and lowered her head back onto Stiletto’s bare shoulder. "The end."
Stiletto added the numbers from the last two lines to the earlier sequence. She typed them into the keypad on the door, as if the top three keys were numbers one through three, the second row four through six, the third row seven through nine, and the bottom key zero.
She entered the sequence in a hurry: five, one, three, two, six, one, zero, one, six, one, two, four.
Nothing happened.
*****
Candle didn’t think he could hold off the Skilla for much longer.
As his warflower fire dropped the creatures at the front of the horde, more rushed up from behind. The pile of bodies kept rising, forcing Candle to aim upward at increasingly sharp angles. Then, the onrushing Skilla started using the pile as a diving platform.
As they hurtled through the fog from above, claws and stingers extended, Candle picked them off one after another...but the terrible rain wouldn’t end. When one shrieking Skilla went down, another one or two always took its place.
They just never stopped coming. Candle knew, as each moment flew by and the bunker door stayed shut, that things were probably going to get much worse very soon.
*****
As Stiletto went over Luma’s song again, she found a place where she might have screwed up.
When Luma had sung, "But Mommy says the ones she loves the best are two and four," Stiletto had added the numbers one, two, and four to the sequence. What if the plural "ones" meant she should have added more than a single "one" to the string?
Stiletto puffed strands of blond hair out of her face and punched in the number sequence on the keypad again, this time adding another number one before the final two and four.
A second later, she heard the clicking of tumblers inside the door. Then, a clang and a scrape.
The door slid open, releasing a blast of musty air that overpowered the vinegar stink of the Skilla.
*****
"Pass!" shouted Stiletto. "It’s open!"
Candle was already backing toward the door when he heard her, but not because he had any idea that it was opening.
Two Skilla lunged at him, claws and stingers carving through the space where he’d stood only an instant before. He swept the beam of the warflower from one to the other, dropping them both...and as soon as their bodies collapsed to the pavement, three more leaped into the gap.
Candle unleashed another spray of fire from the warflower and backed into the doorway. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stiletto behind the door, waiting to pull it shut.
"On three!" said Candle. "One! Two!"
The last thing he saw before Stiletto slammed the door was one of those faces like a ragged, open wound, oozing saliva or mucus and crammed with a forest of teeth like shards of broken glass.
"Three!"
Even as the door crashed shut, Candle knew he’d see that face again in his nightmares.
*****
Stiletto led the way down the spiral metal stairwell in the middle of the bunker. She didn’t have to switch on her headlight, because the well was lit by an incandescent strip set into the stone wall.
Candle followed, carrying Luma. He talked to her and bounced her in his arms, though keeping her awake had become a losing battle.
At the base of the stairwell, Stiletto stepped onto a dirt floor in front of a pair of metal doors. A video monitor was mounted at eye level on one of the doors, and she activated it by twisting a large knob underneath it.
An adult male Sagran appeared on the screen. Like Luma, he had red, multifaceted eyes and no hair. He wore a sky blue tunic, and his glittering skin was pale green.
"Shhh," said the Sagran, touching his mouth with the tip of a finger. "Don’t wake the sleepers."
Stiletto started to ask a question. The Sagran talked right over her, which clued her in that the video was strictly playback, not interactive.
"You are welcome to take your place among us," said the Sagran, opening his arms wide. "But first, please join me in a prayer."
The Sagran closed his eyes and solemnly bowed his head. "O gods of destruction," he said. "We freely offer the fruits of our labors to you. You bless u
s by tearing down what we have built, clearing the way for us to rebuild and be reborn.
"O Skilla," said the Sagran, "cleanse our cities with your sacred storm. Remind us that the physical world is fleeting, that we may cherish every breath of our lives.
"When at last you rest at the end of these three holy months, and our people awaken, may we find that you have left even less intact than the year before. May we continue to find fulfillment in the eternal cycle of creation and destruction."
The Sagran opened his eyes and lifted his head. "Enter," he said with a serene smile. "Dream of the storm above and the work ahead."
With that, the video screen went dark.
The double doors swung open on a pitch black space. Stiletto activated her headlight and stepped inside.
The first thing she saw by the beam of the headlight was the body of a woman, curled in a fetal position on blankets on the floor. The woman’s eyes were closed, and her skin was pale gray. She wore a simple white shift like Luma’s.
As Stiletto played the headlight over the floor, she saw that the woman wasn’t alone. Everywhere Stiletto looked, the floor was covered with the bodies of Sagran adults and children, all with gray skin and eyes closed.
Stiletto scanned them with her fingertip sensor pads. "They’re hibernating," she said.
"‘Three holy months,’" said Candle, quoting the prayer from the video. "It’s the only way they can coexist with the Skilla. Hibernate while the Skilla are on the rampage."
"They should wipe out the Skilla and be done with it," said Stiletto.
"Not if the Skilla are sacred to them," said Candle. "I guess the Sagrans see them as gods of destruction, like the Hindu god Shiva on Earth."
Stiletto crouched beside a sleeping Sagran and scanned his head with her fingertip sensors. She scanned two other sleepers the same way.
"They’ve got the same internal swelling as Luma," said Stiletto. "Could be a normal part of the hibernation process."
"Not a concussion after all," said Candle. "Luma was just trying to go back to sleep like everyone else."
Stiletto gazed at the little girl in Candle’s arms. Luma was fast asleep, drooling on his shoulder.
"We should find her parents," said Stiletto.
Candle nodded. "Time to wake up, Luma," he said, gently bouncing the child in his arms. "Just one more time, and then you can finally get the rest you deserve."
*****
After a long search by headlight through the vast underground chamber, Luma pointed out a man and woman sleeping side by side on a multi-colored quilt.
"That’s Mommy and Daddy," she said drowsily.
Candle smiled and lowered her to the quilt, placing her between her parents. "There you go," he said. "Now promise me you won’t wander off again, okay?"
Luma yawned and nodded. "I promise," she said. Now that she had been returned to her parents, the amber crystal in her bracelet stopped blinking.
"Good night," said Candle. "Sleep tight."
Luma lay down on her side and curled up between her mother and father. Now that she was perfectly relaxed, her glittering skin took on a pale green hue. "Finish the story first. What happened next?"
"I have a better idea," said Candle. "Why don’t you finish it?"
"Okay." Luma thought for a moment, then grinned. "Pass and Nona fell in love and lived happily ever after. The end."
Then, hugging her doll, she closed her eyes and fell asleep, her skin color shifting from pale green to pale gray.
*****
"Cool story, huh?"
Candle said it as he and Stiletto followed a network of tunnels under the city, bypassing the Skilla on the way back to the Sun Ra.
He caught Stiletto by surprise. Instead of bouncing right back with a typical wisecrack, she didn’t answer.
The truth was, of course she thought the story was cool, since she was crazy about him...but she was afraid to go further because of her lousy past. Her Wipeout career had ruined everything else in her life, so why not ruin this, too?
On the other hand...
She couldn’t escape the feeling that something had changed between her and Candle on Sagra. He’d said some nice things about her, and the way he’d touched her that one time had been amazing.
Or maybe it was all in her imagination. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d said anything that couldn’t be interpreted more than one way. If only he’d said something with no room for misunderstanding, then maybe...
"I think we should end the story the way Luma did." Candle grinned, his deep brown eyes twinkling in the glow of her headlight. "How about you?"
So much for misunderstanding.
It was up to Stiletto now, and the moment couldn’t have been more perfect. The man she loved had given her the kind of opportunity that might never come her way again.
And yet, on the brink of a new beginning, Stiletto hesitated. What if the Squatter who had once possessed her managed to return? She couldn’t bear the thought that she might one day hurt Candle.
Then, of course, it was always possible that Candle might hurt her...that he might leave her. She thought it would be a lot worse to have him and lose him than never to have him at all.
"Well?" he said, eyebrows raised expectantly. "What do you say?"
Then again, she’d already been with him for three years, and he’d never let her down. They’d been through a lot together, and she thought she knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t hurt her.
So what was she waiting for?
Candle sighed. "Okay, then. Can’t blame a guy for trying."
Aw, what the hell.
"No, no," said Stiletto. "I want to know what happens next. To be continued." Then, she grabbed his hand and held it like a trophy as they hiked toward the distant light at the end of the tunnel.
*****
Give the Hippo What He Wants
The pink hippopotamus appeared in front of Thal Simoleon just as he was about to take the swing that could have won the World Series for the Bio Threats.
As soon as the ball left the pitcher’s hand, Thal knew he could launch it out of the park. It came in straight and steady, a little low and outside but well within his range...proof that even a genetically engineered pitcher like Phallus Fearbringer could blow a throw under pressure.
Before the hippo appeared, Thal knew he was about to become the hero of the Series. The Bio Threats were down by two in the bottom of the ninth with two outs...but the bases were loaded and the pitch was a home run waiting to happen. One stroke of the bat would bring in the grand slam, assuring a Bio Threats win and a World Series title.
At least, that was what would have happened if the hippo hadn’t popped up out of nowhere, wearing a grass skirt and hopping around on two legs between him and the ball.
Singing opera.
When the creature appeared, Thal’s view of the pitch was blocked, his concentration obliterated. He took a swing anyway, aiming at the vicinity of where he expected the ball to be; to his credit, he came close...but his swing was well before the ball’s arrival. The tip of the bat lashed into the corner of the strike zone and forward and up, passing harmlessly through the air and then the hippo.
A heartbeat later, the ball sailed through and smacked into the catcher’s mitt.
The hippo kept right on singing and pirouetting in front of him, long black lashes fluttering over baby blue eyes.
The crowd roared with rage. It was Thal’s third strike.
The game was over.
As the Dirty Nukes threw their hats in the air and embraced in the infield, Thal hurled his bat through the hippo, not caring who might be on the other side of the insubstantial phantasm. The surprise visitor had robbed him of a great accomplishment; if he could have strangled it to death on the spot, he would have.
But he knew that he couldn’t. Though its appearance had been unexpected, he knew all about the hippo.
Concluding its serenade on a high note that only Thal could hear, the creatu
re spread its stumpy pink arms wide and took a deep bow. As the superstadium erupted in pandemonium around them, the creature bounced over to Thal, batting its ridiculous lashes and grinning. Bright red lipstick was smeared all around its rubbery mouth.
"Hello there, Zeke," said the hippo, nostrils twitching atop its bulbous snout. "Fancy meeting you here!"
Thal seethed and said nothing. He knew that no one else could see the creature, and he didn’t want to be caught on camera apparently talking to himself.
The hippo pushed closer, its great bulk shimmying from side to side. "Can I give you some advice, pal?" said the creature.
Thal continued to stare silently ahead.
"If I were you, I’d get out of here right now," said the hippo. "The fans are coming! The fans are coming!"
Looking back, Thal saw that the hippo was right. People were cascading out of the stands onto the field, screaming like Vikings. All the other players on Thal’s team had already disappeared into the locker room or were running full tilt toward the exits.
He had no doubt that if he stood there another moment, they would kill him. He was a top-paid sports star in a world that revolved around sports...a god in the faith that ruled their lives...and still he knew that they would kill him on the spot for costing them the victory they craved.
He had seen it happen before.
"Go go go!" shouted the hippo, and Thal took off.
He ran as fast as he could toward the locker room door, his genetically engineered legs easily carrying him ahead of the screaming mob. His pursuers pelted him with coins and shoes and bottled water, but his body was tough enough to take a lot more punishment than that.
As he raced toward the door, he wished that he could leave the hippo behind as easily as the crowd...but he knew that he couldn’t. The creature was literally in his mind, a custom-made hallucination that could follow him anywhere once it had locked on to him.
He knew it well, because he was the one who had set it loose three years ago.