Slimer (13 page)

    'And then people started disappearing…

    'In less than twelve hours we lost over thirty people. They seemed to simply vanish - we kept finding empty piles of clothing but no clue as to what had happened.

    'Then, to our amazement, Charlie reappeared. He was different than before, and larger, but there was no mistaking him. Incredible as it seemed he had somehow come back to life. He attacked and killed several people before the security team again cornered him. Killing him was much more difficult this time but finally he succumbed - after being shot countless times…

    'And then came an even greater shock. Even while the security men were checking the corpse it suddenly dissolved, turning into a pool of thick, viscous liquid which then moved of its own accord. It attacked one of the guards before they could get out of the way and we had a first hand demonstration of what had happened to the missing people.'

    Shelley shut his eyes briefly and swallowed. He looked ill. Then he continued, 'The unfortunate man just shrivelled away before our eyes… he was literally absorbed by the substance. Then it flowed away at a fast rate and disap-peared into one of the ventilators.'

    Paul and Linda simultaneously turned away from the screen and stared at the single ventilator grill high up on the wall behind them. It was only a foot wide but suddenly what had previously been nothing but an innocent looking aperture had become ominous and threatening.

    'My colleagues and I then attempted to produce a scientific explanation for what had been witnessed,' continued Shelley from the video screen. 'And after a great deal of deliberation we think we have the answer.

    'It seems that the
Phoenix
genetic material and the Carcharodon DNA have bonded themselves into a single unit that has properties we didn't foresee. We planned for
Phoenix
to enable the host organism to evolve rapidly in order to survive but what we've got here is a complex of DNA and RNA molecules that don't need to be organised into a rigid system, as for example an animal like a cat or a dog, in order to exist. Instead this unique unit is evolving and adapting at a cellular level.

    'In other words, unlike a conventional animal which can be described as a colony of various different types of cells with specialised functions which all work in harmony for the common good - i.e. the whole animal - this creature consists of cells that can change their function from moment to moment, depending on exterior conditions. They rearrange the shape and structure of the colony, the animal, in order to ensure their own individual survival!'

    Shelley paused and gave a rueful smile. 'I am reminded of the book
The Selfish Gene
by Dr Richard Dawkins in which he proposed the theory that all organisms, including human beings, are only mere vehicles to ensure the survival of the genes and not vice versa.

    'Well, with
Phoenix
and the shark DNA we have created the ultimate selfish gene - and one that presents a terrible threat to us all.'

    Paul pressed the Stop button and slumped back in the chair. 'My God,' he whispered.

    'What shall we do?' Linda asked him anxiously.

    He ran his fingers distractedly through his hair. 'Warn the others, I guess. But how do we protect ourselves against something like that?'

    'Shouldn't we run the rest of the tape? There might be more on it that we should know.'

    'Okay,' he sighed. 'But then we must join the others right away.'

    He started the machine again. Shelley continued talking: 'The unit also appears to possess properties that are even harder to accept. There have been several confirmed sightings of people we know to be… uh…' He paused, looking embarrassed, '… dead. As incredible as it seems we are faced with the fact that some of the victims are being, in a sense, resurrected by the organism.

    'I can only theorise at this stage but I believe when the creature eats, or rather absorbs, its victims it also hijacks their DNA/RNA material. It appropriates this material in order to increase the range of its adaptive variables, achieving in an instant what it would take natural selection millions of years to accomplish.

    'But when it absorbs the DNA/RNA from its victim's brain I think it also absorbs, and preserves, memory as well. And yes, it's possible that the victim's very personality, or parts of it, are also preserved within the organism, as awful as that may be to contemplate…'

    

    

    Alex returned to his cabin feeling angry and frustrated. As desperate as Mark had been for a fix he'd refused to go and tell that bitch Chris to play ball. Well, he'd change his tune pretty soon. When his craving got worse he'd be handing Chris over to him on a platter, garnish and all. And that bitch would go along with it too. She was soft - she'd do anything for that wimp even if it meant letting him get to her again. Alex knew she hated his guts but he didn't mind - it made it all the more enjoyable.

    He turned on the light and put the M16 down against the side of the doorway. Rochelle was lying with her back to him, presumably asleep. A lot of fun she was going to be, he thought sourly. Stupid bitch, getting herself hurt like that…

    He was about to get into his bunk when she suddenly stirred and turned towards him.

    'Hi,' she said, throwing off the blanket. To his surprise she was naked except for the surgical dressings taped across her chest above her breasts. She gave him a lascivious smile. 'I've been waiting for you.'

    

    

    'Hey, I thought you were real sick,' said Alex, scarcely able to believe his luck.

    Rochelle reclined naked on the bunk, her legs apart. It was obvious what was on her mind. 'I'm feeling a lot better now. Great really.' Her voice had an odd, dreamy quality to it. 'The cuts are only superficial anyway.' She put her hand down between her legs and began to caress herself. 'But there is one thing I need to feel even better…'

    A small warning bell started up in a dim recess of Alex's mind. He sensed that something was wrong. Rochelle didn't normally behave this way, even when she was horny. But the bell was immediately smothered by Alex's more pressing physical needs. When it came to sex he always acted first and asked questions, though only rarely, later. Any abnormalities in her behaviour he dismissed as a result of her traumatic experience in the recreation room.

    He began to get out of his clothes. 'Baby, your troubles are over. Doctor Alex is here and in just two shakes his famous scalpel will be where it does you the most good.'

    But as he stepped out of his pants her expression suddenly changed. 'No… no…' she whispered in a small frightened voice, 'I don't want to do this.'

    He froze and stared down at her. 'What? What the fuck are you talking about?' He was in no mood to play silly female games at this point.

    She looked frightened - terrified. 'I don't want to do this. They're making me, Alex. The crazy ones. They want to hurt us.'

    Alex glanced around the room. 'Rochelle, have you flipped your wig completely?' he asked, getting angrier. 'We're alone in here.' Perhaps the swipe she took from that creature had shaken her brains up. Well, no matter. Crazy or not she was about to get well and truly screwed.

    She got off the bunk. 'Alex… get out of here. Run while you have the chance,' she cried urgently. She gave him a shove towards the door.

    He shoved her back. 'Hey, you stupid bitch, I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you!' He forced her backwards to the bunk, his hands on her breasts, squeezing hard.

    Her expression changed again. There was a look in her eyes he'd never seen before. She reached up and encircled his wrists with her fingers. 'Stay,' she breathed.

    'Well, make up your fucking mind,' he muttered, confused now. What was going on? And what was that goddam awful smell that had suddenly filled the room. It was as if some-thing dead had farted.

    She smiled at him and he saw her tongue. It was black.

    'Ro, what…?'

    Her tongue was emerging from between her Hps. It seemed endless. He tried to recoil but she held him by the wrists with an unexpectedly strong grasp. He glanced down and saw that he was being held by a pair of male hands.

    He couldn't comprehend what was happening.

    'Ro…?' he began imploringly. But as he opened his mouth to speak her black tongue suddenly leapt out at him and, before he could react, had forced itself between his teeth. Then it was thrusting down into the back of his throat…

    Choking, and overwhelmed with panic, he struggled like a mad man to break free but Rochelle held him fast. More and more of the tongue forced itself into his mouth. It was like a giant worm burrowing its way down his throat. He could feel it going down his oesophagus, slimy and cold. So cold…

    And as all this happened Rochelle's eyes stared into his with a dark, insane glee.

    

    

    Mark could have been taken for dead the way he looked and Chris kept laying her head on his chest to listen to his heart. She expected it to be beating faintly and slowly but it was skittering like a startled rabbit.

    Her eyes were sore from crying and tiredness. Why hadn't she been more forceful with him over his habit right from the beginning? Now it was too late. She knew that now. She had not really noticed the physical change in him until recently when she'd come across a photograph of them together taken a year ago. The difference from the way he looked now had come as a shock.

    Perhaps she should go and tell Mark's father what was going on when they got back to England. But it would be a drastic step. Mark might never forgive her. And how would Mark's father react to the news that his only son was a junkie? He might reject him completely or even turn him over to the police - he was such a conservative, uptight character.

    But no, she decided, that was unlikely. He had had high hopes for Mark and they had still not quite gone. And he still indulged him in all sorts of ways even though Mark never showed him any gratitude. If Mark actually went to him and asked for his help she was sure the old man would be so pleased he'd do anything to help him. The problem was that Mark would never do that, no matter how bad things got.

    She sighed. All that was in the future anyway. Right now Mark needed a fix badly. Alex had turned him down and she knew why even though Mark hadn't said so. Alex wanted her again. She'd do anything for Mark but the thought of letting Alex touch her again made her want to vomit. She couldn't even think of the things he'd made her do the previous night…

    Yet sooner or later Mark was going to get so desperate for a fix he'd beg her to accommodate Alex. And what was she going to do then?

    There was a knock at the door and she jumped. She was about to reach for the gun lying beside the bed when she heard Paul say, 'Mark, Chris, you okay?'

    She relaxed and went to the door. But when she opened it and saw the looks on Paul and Linda's faces she began to feel anxious again. 'What's wrong? Has that thing come back?'

    'No,' said Paul as he and Linda hurried inside. 'But we've found out the answer to all that's been happening and I'm afraid it's not good.'

    Mark was awake now and sitting up. He looked dreadful - his eyes two dark shadows and his face haggard and covered in sweat. 'What's going on?' he asked as he watched Paul go up to the cabin's small ventilator grill and peer into it with the aid of a torch. 'Find something to block this up with,' he instructed Linda.

    Mystified, Chris said, 'Are you feeling okay?'

    Paul began to explain what they'd learned from Shelley's video tapes. When he finished Chris's first reaction was to laugh. 'It's fantastic. I can't believe it. You're saying this creature absorbs people… and then can duplicate them…?' She shook her head helplessly.

    Paul said, 'I know it's all pretty wild but we've seen it happen for ourselves. Buckley turning into that creature. And when we followed that thing that tried to break into our cabin on the first night and only found Shelley, that's the reason why. It had turned into Shelley.'

    'Shelley was this creature too?' asked Chris.

    'And the beautiful Dr Soames. They're all one and the same. The way it seems to me is that this thing is like a genetic thief that goes around stealing human blue-prints. They're all mixed up together but every now and then one of the victims manages to come out on top, perhaps by sheer willpower, I don't know. And when that happens their ori-ginal body reforms, but not for long…'

    'Because the dominant power is this "Charlie" thing?' asked Mark.

    'Yes. Charlie. Short for Carcharodon. A great white shark. Its DNA and the Phoenix genes that those stupid scientists created have formed a winning combination. And when it comes out on top it either manifests itself in a physical form based on what it used to be - that creature that replaced Buckley - or as some kind of liquid that can move around by itself.'

    'The slime I saw in the crane,' breathed Mark, 'the black stuff that ran up the wall into the…' He glanced up at the ventilator grill that Linda was blocking with a torn up pil-low case. 'Now I know I wasn't hallucinating. But how come it didn't attack me?'

    'I don't know,' Paul confessed, 'but we do know what happened to all those people, and why all those clothes were lying around.'

    'But how come some of the clothes were all torn and bloody and the rest were unmarked?' asked Chris.

    'Well,' said Paul slowly, 'Shelley's guess was that the thing has two kinds of hunger. When it's in its physical form the shark instincts take over and it wants to eat in the normal way - it wants to fill its belly - but when it's in the liquid shape it's hungry in a different way. The individual cells are hungry, not for food but new genetic material, new DNA/RNA or whatever it's called…'