Dominant Species Volume Three -- Acquired Traits (35 page)

So, some
months later, she re-wrote her list. The second time, it was quite different
and the tone, when read aloud—which she did nightly for a week—produced within
the thin walls of her paltry apartment a cynical resonance, uniquely her own.

The list
was shorter than it was before, too. It read: “1. Don’t trust anybody. 2. Keep
your mouth shut. 3. If they fuck with you—fuck ‘em back worse. 4. Don’t
volunteer for anything. 5. Find out who you’re dealing with. 6. She who cares
the most loses.”

That
little list of maxims served her well and protected her from all but the most
refined attacks on her good nature. There were still dangers, and the assaults
that managed to breech her walls were especially stealthy and destructive. And
many times, her older, better nature just opened up with a smile and brushed
aside those pessimistic notions just for the sake of goodness, and in so doing,
swept clean a walkway for the devil’s horny feet. But in those optimistic
seasons, she was indomitable, and the devil be damned. She’d dealt with the
bastard enough to know how; and in those bright, fearless times, she was well
up to the task.

She’d
once heard someone say that every event in your life brings you to where you
are. It was an obvious and an undeniable truism when you thought about it. What
wasn’t so obvious to Donna Applegate at this moment, was the exact chain-like
form of those particular, and now dreadful events.

The
beetle continued to clatter against the glass, spurred on by some unknown,
insectoid lust to get through that transparent barrier.

“I could
eat that damned thing alive,” she said flatly.

“I bet
you could,” Habershaw said.

The sound
started as a low rumble, not unlike distant thunder but steady; a reverberation
that buzzed in the head, just outside the range of audible perception.

“Is this
thing turned on?” Donna asked, referring to the shuttle.

“No,”
Habershaw replied. “It’s dead off.”

The sound
started and stopped, started and stopped as if coming from multiple sources
some distance apart. As the moments passed, the sound grew in volume.

“What is
that?” Donna asked. “Is it coming from above?”

“Beats
the hell out of me,” Habershaw replied, puzzled.

They
looked out the sides and up through the window curving overhead. A break in the
canopy revealed twin moons and an open sky. Donna pulled the hood up on her net
suit, went to the cargo door and opened it.

She
stepped outside into air filled with insects and permeated with the distant,
deep sound. Now she could tell that the sound was coming from more than one
place, some closer, some farther. Then, she felt a tugging, a slight pulling on
her net suit from above. When she looked up this time, she saw the shiny craft
drifting slowly through the space in the trees. It was beetle-shaped but
without legs, and the moonlight created bright highlights on its dark brown
surface. It moved westward.

It was
huge, at least forty meters long.

It flew
without wings.

“What the
hell is that?” she whispered.

The
thing’s shape sunk deep in her psyche and came to rest in a hollow made just
for it. As if seeing it made the memory of it manifest, she somehow knew it,
had seen it before—perhaps dreamt it. From it came sound at a thousand
decibels—a deep harmonic that rattled her teeth.

She’d
heard the deep sound before, too, somehow, somewhere. Her voice shuddered and
she coughed up the words.

“God help
us.”

16

I
t wasn’t a good idea
to walk through the jungle at night
, Eddie thought.
That had to be the stupidest thing someone
could do.

If you were outside,
the idea was to stay out of sight—hide and not draw attention. Eddie’s favorite
hiding places were barrels with lids that he could close if he wanted for a
while or open a little to breathe. But that idea was out ‘cuz he didn’t have
any barrels. So, he’d built one of those little shelters Donna told him about.
The spot he picked to build it in was in a little thin spot because he figured
the bugs might be less where there was less foliage. When the moons came up,
the light would be right on the shelter and maybe it wouldn’t be quite so
scary. He’d had to start on it early in the afternoon to get it good enough and
was pretty satisfied, finally, after trying it three or four different ways. He
was lying on a pad of thick spongy leaves with his clothes buttoned up tight
like Donna told him. He could feel a few crawlers on his legs as they passed
over on their way to somewhere else, but that was all. It wasn’t too bad, and
he was sure the shelter was keeping out the worst of them. It wasn’t a steel
barrel, but he felt fairly safe in his little cocoon of vines and leaves.

He was
hungry and thirsty, having walked most of the day with little to quench either
desire. He’d tried not to stray too far from the road, and he’d taken a risk a
few times and walked right on it when he felt it was safe, when he could see no
trucks or transports in either direction. It was a relief from the constant
abrasion of leaves and vines and branches to walk there, even for a little
while.

The night
was louder than he’d ever heard it. It must have been the change in the weather
that was causing it. The heat was probably making the bugs breed more.

He hoped
this was as hot as it would get. He’d been sweating buckets. The first order of
business tomorrow would be to find more water. He’d come across a little stream
at midday and drank from it until he couldn’t drink anymore. He’d hoped it
would last, but he’d been thirsty again before nightfall.

He let
his eyes close and the jungle’s din eventually gave way to the relative silence
of sleep.

At first,
the snuffling, sniffing sound outside was barely anything—just another faint
something mixed with the other sounds on some unused channel in his sleeping
mind. But it quickly took shape as something very different from the background
noise and an alarm went off. His eyes popped open, and he listened as it moved
around the shelter, mostly down where the leaves met the ground. It was big,
whatever it was. He could hear its feet crunching on the foliage and sometimes
popping a stalk as it moved around. He was tempted to burst out of the shelter
with a big commotion and run like hell, but he decided it was best to stay
still and hope it went away.

The
snuffling stopped for a moment and Eddie thought with relief that the thing had
moved on. But it started again, this time nudging the shelter, first gently,
then a little rougher until the entire structure was shaking as the thing
bumped it.

He hadn’t
made any noise, but the thing knew he was in there. It must have smelled him.
It was figuring how to get inside and pull him out, and Eddie felt a brief
weakness in his limbs as that thought sank in. In his mind’s eye, the thing
outside took shape as something fantastic and frightful—and the thought that on
this planet it could be worse than he imagined made him stiff with fear.

It
's
gonna
eat me.

Suddenly,
his ears rang with the loudest whistle he’d ever heard. The sound seemed to
warble up and down and was so loud it grated inside his head. It was
high-pitched and of such an unbearable volume that he put his hands over his
ears.

When it
stopped there was no more snuffling or nudging, just the sounds of the jungle,
and again, Eddie thought the thing had gone away. Maybe it wasn’t so smart.
Maybe the shelter confused it somehow. Maybe the whistle was the sound it made
when it couldn’t do what it wanted.

Then
Eddie heard another sound, an angry running sound and breaking branches coming
at the shelter. Then nothing.

Suddenly,
the whole side of the shelter flew off as if struck, sending leaves and pieces
of vine flying. Eddie scooted away from the gaping hole as far as he could.
Looking out through the ragged breach, he saw two things standing there—two
impossible things—waiting to eat him. One of them had a thing that looked like
a long tube. There was a sound like a pneumatic hose popping loose, and he felt
something hit him. He looked down and saw a spiny ball stuck to his side. One
of the impossible things had shot him with it.

He wanted
to cry out, but a flood of numbing warmth was radiating out from the ball so
fast that he didn’t have a chance. When the rush got up to his head, he felt
like he was sinking in warm water.

* * *

When he
could open his eyes, he was surrounded by what he thought were the thick roots
of plants that had been placed around him. But when he blinked, his vision
clear, he saw that the roots were actually creatures, bent and twisted, with
stick thin arms and pointed faces. They were covered with short spiny hair that
pointed downward. One of them waddled closer and reached out and touched his
arm with twig-like fingers.

He could
move his head a little; and when he looked down at himself, he saw that he was
naked. He could barely feel the thing’s touch and wondered why the touch was so
light. When he looked down at the spot where the creature had touched him, he
saw that his skin was dented from a very strong grip—he just couldn’t feel much
of it.

There
were at least four of the creatures around him that he could see. The one that
had grabbed his arm was tugging on him, trying to turn him, to position him
just right. He felt himself sliding across the table as the thing pulled, but
he could barely feel his body.

Then the
thing reached up and opened a little door on what looked like a dark, round
globe hanging from the ceiling. A swarm of shiny insects buzzed out of the
globe, by one's and two's, then bunches, and flew around the dark room. Some of
them came up close to his face and held still in the air and buzzed. Eddie had
seen them before. They were the big black, white and yellow wasps he’d seen in
the jungle a few times. They'd always left him alone. But this time, some of
them started to dart down at him and bang into him. He could see tiny drops of
blood forming where they hit him and soon he could feel nothing at all. Some of
the wasps started to land on him, and, one at a time, began to stick their long
tails down into him. Eddie didn’t feel anything, but he knew what they were
doing. It was the thing most of the bugs on Verde did—lay eggs in you.

The root
creatures just watched and made little whistling or scratchy noises.

With the
odd creatures around him, Eddie lay in the dark place. He watched the wasps and
knew he was going to die—he just hoped it wouldn’t hurt too much. He hoped his
friends would be okay. He hadn’t minded being locked up with them all this time
too bad. He had been with John and Donna and Rachel, and they were good to him.

He’d miss
Donna the most. She was a good lady.

Eddie
Silk closed his eyes and slept.

17

S
he was fully dressed
but still a little groggy. That wasn’t surprising since she’d slept twelve
hours that he knew for sure. When she bent down to tie her bootlace, she almost
fell over. John went down on one knee and started to tie it for her.

“I guess
I’ve made a mess of things, huh?” she said. “Don’t be silly,” John said. “It’s
not your fault.”
 

“Somebody’s
gotta take the blame.”

“Not you.
How are you feeling?”

“Well
enough to get outta here.”

“That’s
going to be tough,” he said.

“No, it’s
not.”

“How do
you figure? This place is a virtual maze. The only way out is back the way we
came—right through the lab; and if we go that way, we’ll run right into the
mercs.”

She
dismissed his concern. “I’ve got this whole section of the organism memorized.
These tunnels radiate out in a series of concentric rings with the lab as the
center. It is a maze, but there’s a logic to it. Here, look.”
 
She squatted down and drew with finger and
invisible ink a group of semi-circles, nested together. “They radiate outward
like this. The ends of each one terminate in a big chamber. Sub-chambers like
the one we’re in are dotted all along the arcs. There’s at least one connector
from one arc to the next.”
 
She dashed
the connectors in with a finger. “Like here, here, here.”