Toxic (68 page)

The Latino closed his eyes. “I have no idea,
chica
.”

The choice of locking them up together was clearly strategic: to collect information by allowing them to talk to each other. Hector started to recount his capture on the ocean, attacked by boats much too fast for his semi-sub, without counting their superior arms. That had happened during the late morning. When she asked him what the hell he was doing a few miles from Pony Well, he evaded the question.

“You bastard! You abandoned them!” she whispered. “You wanted to run off to Colombia.”

The trafficker looked weary.

“They had been captured by guys armed to the teeth and then were taken to an unknown place.”

“You should have followed them and at least tried to come to their help.”

“I’m sorry,
chica
, but...”

“Shut it! You and your fucking merchandise!”

The bonds stopped her from moving. Lucky for him, she told herself, because otherwise they would be fighting. After a silence which lasted a good moment, the Colombian, guessing that the tension had reduced, took his chance to tell her his point of view. His cautious speech sounded like a defense appeal, lawyer’s babble coming from the mouth of an international drug trafficker. Yeah, this world was going to the shit.

“There was nothing to confirm that they were at the camp during the alien attack. Though, I admit that their kidnappers probably came from the same place. Some escaped; I saw them restock their weapons before leaving.”

According to the Colombian’s description, Elaine managed to identify the corpulent Dan and she swallowed when Hector mentioned a man with practically white hair. If the group had been in the camp at the time of the attack, did that mean that her new alien “friend” Jave had been lying to her from the beginning? Maybe they had died during the fighting. She preferred not to think about that.

She had no way of knowing and was condemned to the most worrying of hypotheses. Ignorance gnawed at her entrails.

“And so, you have a direct line with these creatures that want to reduce us to nothing?” Hector said.

“That’s saying a lot. I have the impression that it’s a one-way communication.”

“Mejor que nada. How do you contact them?”

“A strange device. It looks like a glass ball which lights up when I put it in the palm of my hand. I speak and it responds. Well, not always... quickly.”

Armed men burst into the room. Without a word, they led them outside. The full Moon shone, low on the horizon line. They crossed a series of hallways and went down stairs. Elaine then recognized the bridge, the one that led to platform C, the smallest of the three. Richardson and Jon were part of the welcoming committee waiting at the end of the metal bridge thrown onto the black sea. Annie’s brother gave her a sullen look. She shook her head.

I’m sorry
, she thought sincerely.

The troop escorted them to an airlock. Jon handed her a transparent mask.

“You’ll need this.”

Confused, the nurse scrutinized the respirator, which was identical to the models used by emergency doctors to cover the respiratory tract.

“What does this...”

He told her to be silent by putting a finger to her mouth.

“You need to wear it in there.”

This time, she was afraid. Elaine went back a step and felt the barrel of a gun in her back.

“You’re going to gas us?”

That seemed absurd, but anything could happen, even the most twisted situations.

“No. Do what you’re told. That’s all.”

“And Hector?”

“He’s staying with us.”

Elaine put the strap over her head and lifted her hair to adjust the length. Jon  connected the hose to an oxygen cylinder. The fresh flow reached her and tickled her skin. She still refused to put it over her face.

“Elaine... I promise that it’s not poisoned. We’re not going to kill you.”

Jon connected a second respirator and placed it over his mouth. He breathed like that for a minute before taking it off.

“You see? No danger.”

Elaine adjusted the mask. At first, she blocked her breathing, but then she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Several times. She didn’t feel anything strange and reopened her eyes. Once of the guards unlocked the airlock, unleashing a hissing of air. The brother took her by the arm and made a sign to his boss. Richardson agreed.

“Come with me.”

The points on the map and the capital A came back to her mind.

“What are you hiding here?”

“You’ll know in a moment. He asked to see you.”

“Who?”

He answered by pressing on her shoulder, inviting her to go inside. Once they were in the airlock, she faced the group while he took care of working the closing mechanism. Elaine heard a hiss and a suction noise followed by clicking and then a current of air refreshed her back. She turned around and almost fell backwards. She put her hand on the cold support, her eyes wide open, gazing at the immense creature which was observing her from the other side of the room.

“I’m Jool...”

The creature moved towards her. It had smooth features, nasal vents, four fingers and the same hair on the thick forearms.

“I’m a Lynian,” the alien added.

A
lison Montgomery woke up at the crack of dawn. Like always.

Her mom had often reminded her that the world belonged to those who got up early. She was wrong, but she would have never been able to predict the arrival of the aliens, she told herself, leaving her bed. She quickly put on yesterday’s t-shirt and her jogging pants and then headed towards the kitchen. In normal times, she would have filled a bowl with cereal, heated up milk in the microwave and then sat down on the couch to absorb her morning dose of cartoons. A ritual which had been since relegated to that of more and more distant and vague memories.

A new era meant changes in habits and other routines. Adapted to the circumstances. Alison grabbed a bowl and found the package of cereal beside the box of powdered milk. The bland taste didn’t at all appeal to her, but she prepared a glass by pouring in tap water. According to Bruce, the house had its own reserves, cisterns buried somewhere in the former garden. The young girl observed the spectacle of the liquid draining away. She had never paid attention to this automatic gesture, even when her mother – who was very bent on being green – lectured her on how important the resource was.

She turned off the tap and then mixed the reconstituted mixture with the golden flakes. After stirring it around for a long time, she tasted it: cold and bland. On Hector’s boat, she liked to sit on the ledge, her feet over the open water, to watch the sunrise over the calm sea. There was nothing like that here, but the refuge had a patio, with a limited view of the surroundings. It was better than staying inside.

She was happy at the idea of sitting on a deck chair and enjoying the morning freshness before having to face the furnace of the daytime. Later, and for their safety, they would be locked up between these thick walls and she would play with Dew. The adults would discuss; Bruce and Alva would fight and the colonel would try to calm them. They really did resemble a family in the end. She liked that.

With the bowl in her two hands, she crossed the hallway and climbed the two stairs of the bay window blocked by a shady curtain. With her back almost to the window, she placed her elbow on the handle and made the window slide along its rail.

Alison closed her eyes, took a breath and then put a foot on the floor. The smell bugged her, but didn’t worry her too much. Maybe the wind was bringing the stench of rotting bodies into the vicinity. The truth wasn’t revealed until her eyes were open and she found herself face to face with a half-torn mouth.

She dropped the bowl, which broke on the ground, her ankle hit the ledge and she fell inside on her bum.

Accustomed since training to not sleeping a wink, Masters heard the scream clearly. The soldier jumped out of his bed, his 45 in his hand, and came hurtling down the hallway in his underwear and a t-shirt. He ran in the direction of the living room and saw the young girl sprawling on the carpet.

“There’s tons!” she screamed. “L-Ds everywhere!”

She threw herself into his arms, almost knocking him off balance. The marine caught himself on a stool. The pestilent smell, the grunting, the urgency, he spotted the first infected creature and shot. Its brain burst in a brown shower which sprayed the ones behind it. Falling over the ledge, it blocked their way. Masters grabbed the handle and with a heated gesture, closed the window, cutting the putrid corpse in half just above its waist. Its insides spread out over the carpet.

Alva arrived in turn, followed by Dewei and Bruce.

“How did they get in?” the latter panicked. “It’s impossible!”

“No idea.”

The colonel hugged the trembling girl to himself like a leaf.

“It’s going to be OK... it’s going to be OK.”

“We can’t stay here,” the singer concluded. “We’re no longer safe.”

She gave the biologist a dark look and then turned on her heels. “Let’s get our things and get out of this rat’s hole.”

The roar of the machine gun ripped through the air without warning.

“On your stomachs!” the soldier screamed.

Alva threw herself onto the floor in the middle of the hallway before realizing that the windows were bullet-proof. For the first time in his life, Bruce praised his father’s paranoia. Masters got up.

“Low-caliber. Will they hold up against something bigger?”

The biologist looked dumbfounded. “I have no idea.”

“May the Lord punish the impious,” the Reverend said, “and aim at the windows.”

The three men had taken position on the roof of the truck, parked about a hundred meters from the villa. Their assault rifles spat out flames, and the smoking casings decorated the ground with the sound of a machine spitting out money. Dan had managed to get the minigun on its tripod. He ordered his men to cease fire.

“Enough playtime. Now it’s time to get serious!”

The six barrels of the gun spat out up to four thousand shots a minute. Nothing could resist such a deluge of steel. The Reverend plugged his ears as the gun let off the high-pitched whistle of a giant mixer. Dan swept the house copiously, tearing apart the zombies that found themselves in the line of fire.

When his lieutenant stopped firing, the facade resembled that of a building in a Middle Eastern city during a civil war. Dan checked his gun’s feed as gray rings of smoke rose up from the barrels. He raised his hands in the direction of the fourth stooge, who was at the wheel of another truck.

The semi started and moved towards the entrance to the property. The driver parked in front of the gate in such a way that it blocked any vehicle from getting out. Next, he got out of the cabin and went to the back of the hitch to free the horde, which was stamping with impatience. The zombies got out one by one. At times, one of them would fall down and the others would walk on top of it.

“They’re going to try to flee,” Dan predicted.

Under his chasuble, the Reverend agreed, on the lookout for their enemies’ reaction. He directed his attention to the patio, where the living dead were hurrying to get inside the villa.

“We’ll wait five minutes. If they don’t come out, we’ll give them another round.”

“Let’s get out of here!” Alva yelled, dragging their bags across the hall. The evacuation was taking place in the chaos. Through the exploded windows, the zombies had infested the living room. Bruce and Masters had managed to contain them by closing the doors leading to the main hallway and by moving furniture

The colonel was carrying Alison, who refused to leave him. She was clinging to his neck, which didn’t make his movements easy. The biologist helped Dewei, who was crouching in a corner, his eyes wide open. Right away, Masters though that he was in the middle of a crisis. The singer screamed in anger upon encountering the scientist, who had nothing to do with the events. They grouped together towards the entrance and when the artist opened the door, “Fuck! What’s this?!” she said, horrified.

Dozens of L-Ds were wandering around everywhere. They immediately turned towards her. The singer spotted the truck, which was blocking the exit from the bridge, ruining their escape plan. Behind them, the creatures wouldn’t be long in reaching the other rooms of the safe house. Outside was chaos.

“We’re fucked,” Alva screamed, closing and locking the door while she was at it.

A look of astonishment came over Dewei and Alison’s faces. Masters scowled. He encouraged Bruce.

“This is your father’s safe house; you must have an idea, a way out, anything! If not, we’re all dead!”

“I don’t know, I don’t...” the scientist grabbed his head with both hands. “He must have designed a sort of panic room. There was one in the house, I remember.”

He ran to the far end of the hallway.

“Get a move on!” the colonel yelled.

The wait seemed long, too long. The minutes went by and the L-Ds made a hellish ruckus.

“Over here,” he heard with relief.

The group hurried towards the laundry room. Bruce pointed to a small hatch behind a row of shelves.