Plague (28 page)

He switched his pose, one hand for the mass of bugs, one for the onrushing attack. But it would not do. He couldn’t hold them.

“Should have stayed on the island,” he told himself. He had gambled and lost.

The two invisible walls were closing in. He was holding back tons of pushing, questing monsters and he couldn’t do it, could not. He just did not have the power. And once he broke, they would be on him before he could blink.

“Hey! Jerkwad!”

He glanced toward the sound. Standing, arms akimbo, atop the flat roof of a two-story apartment building, was Brianna.

“Come to gloat?” he managed.

“See the front door of that house?”

“What?”

“That’s where we’re going.”

“No time!”

“No time,” Brianna mocked. “Please. Just go limp.”

“Go limp?”

“Yeah: limp. And oh, by the way: it’s going to hurt.”

He never saw her move but he felt the linebacker impact as she hit him at blazing speed.

Caine went flying. His shirt was ripped from his back. He spun crazily and fell hard onto the lawn. The bug armies crashed together like two waves behind him. Like the Red Sea closing behind Moses.

Caine tried to stand, but already there were hands on his back pushing him, propelling him forward at insane speed. He hit the doorjamb on his way through. The bugs swarmed toward the door but it had already been slammed, locked, and barricaded with a chair.

Brianna stood in the middle of the room, examining her fingernails with theatrical calm.

“The whole superspeed thing comes in helpful at times,” she said.

“I think you broke my back,” Caine said. He felt sharp pain in his ribs. But it was very much better than the alternative.

The door exploded inward and a tangle of bug legs appeared.

“I can hold them, but I can’t kill them all,” Caine shouted.

“Yeah. They’re hard to kill. You got a plan?”

Caine bit savagely at his thumb, worrying the cuticle. They were surrounded. The very walls were being battered. The windows were all smashed. They couldn’t fit through the door but they would soon make it wide enough.

They stood, Caine and Brianna, in the kitchen, the center of the house, as far as possible from the windows, but now the bugs had their mandibles shoved in through the doors and windows, questing, slicing the air, their ropelike tongues lashing madly.

The entire house was like a drum pounded by dozens of drumsticks.

“You know, I’m kind of disappointed,” Brianna said. “Situation like this? Sam would come up with a plan.”

SAM
HAD COME up with a plan.

Three, actually. One involved the very faint hope that Jack would reach Little Pete and do something awful.

The second involved something purely insane. Flying a huge container of missiles through the air, dropping them in just the right place, finding a vehicle with gas and a functioning battery, then figuring out how to fire the missiles in time to save the town.

That was insane.

The third plan involved Dekka. He wasn’t even going to tell her about that. Because it wasn’t just insane, it was monstrous.

None of the plans had a chance of working. Sam knew that.

Sam’s foot was beyond pain. It was agony. Dekka was doing all she could for him by lessening gravity somewhat but he still had to move forward, and he had to move as fast as he could.

“How are you doing, Dekka?” he gasped as he hobble-trotted.

“Stop asking, Sam,” she said.

“You have to—,” he began.

“What? What do I have to do, Sam? They’re eating me from the inside, what do you want me to say?”

“She’s telling the truth—”

“Shut your stupid mouth, you freak!” Dekka snapped at Toto.

They were close, Sam could feel it. They had to be. They had to reach the train before the bugs finally burst from Dekka and ate her alive.

He needed her to live a while longer. To the bitter, bitter end, he needed her and she was spending her last minutes running and trying to help him and he was helpless, could do nothing but keep hoping she would stay alive, suffer some more, conquer her fear, all for a stupid, pointless, doomed plan.

“There!” Toto said. “I see the train.”

The light was faint, gray, watery, and inadequate. But yes, Sam could see the train.

He gritted his teeth and ran now, full out, every step like a knife plunged into his foot with the pain radiating all the way up his leg.

“I can’t even see which container it was, Spidey.”

Sam cupped his hands and grew a ball of sickly greenish-tinged light. It swelled until he could see the two faces of his companions. To his horror the light showed a bug had eaten its way through the front of Dekka’s blouse. She was trembling.

“Dekka,” he said. “You don’t have to . . . I can . . .”

She grabbed his arm with a painfully hard grip. “I’m with you, Sam. I guess I don’t get to take the easy way out.”

“This is the container with the weapons,” Toto called. Then, as an afterthought he added, “That’s true.”

“Sam,” Dekka said. “If I die . . .”

“Then we fall,” Sam said. “You and me, Dekka. If I have to go, it’ll be an honor to be with you.”

Sam slammed the container shut and the three of them climbed to the top. The container was not perfectly flat on top, it was ribbed for strength. But the steel ribs were no more than six inches high. They flattened themselves down on their backs, facing up.

“Here we go,” Dekka said. She spread her hands flat against the container, palms downward.

The container rose.

Sam lay staring up at the sky, which was no real sky. The stars were paling. The moon had set.

How fast were they rising? The barrier was quite near, just a few dozen yards away from the train. For the first time in his life, he wished he’d paid more attention in geometry. There was no doubt a formula for how long it would be before they scraped against the barrier.

If Astrid were here, she would be able to—

Scrreeech!

The door end of the container was scraping and the entire container tilted wildly.

“Hold on!” Sam yelled.

He gripped the ribs even tighter. But he realized with a pleasant surprise that he was weightless against the container. He was holding on to keep from floating up.

Chunk! Chunk! Screeee!

The container banged a couple of times, tilted even more sharply, and yet rose. Rose!

Suddenly Sam’s knuckles, chest, and face were against the barrier. It was like grabbing a power line. Pain that obliterated every other thought. It was not his first time touching the barrier, but it was the first time he’d had his face pressed against it.

“Dekka!” Sam cried.

“Doing my best!” she yelled.

The container became more nearly level and Sam could at least loosen his grip on the steel ribs, which allowed him to press his hands down by his side and keep them from being crushed.

The barrier moved away from his face, blessed relief, but all the while the screeching sound of steel being dragged along the barrier continued.

Screeeeee.

Still rising. Faster. The air rushed past as their speed increased.

How high? They would either stall or fall or, if somehow Dekka could keep it up, they would rise and follow the curve of the dome. As they reached the top of the arc, their faces would be crushed against the barrier again. Sam wasn’t looking forward to that.

Sam rolled onto his stomach and wormed his way to the edge of the container. There wasn’t much to see below. No lights. No way to know exactly where they were. He wished he had Albert’s map, maybe he could make some sense out of the patterns of shadow and dimly perceived, starlit heights.

Looking up, he could not see the barrier at this height; it was not the smooth, pearly translucence he was used to. It was more as if he was pressed against glass, seeing stars beyond it. He’d halfway expected to find the stars were something painted on, but of course that was crazy. The barrier maintained the illusion even up here. He felt himself flying, staring out into the near-void of space.

“How are you doing, Dekka?”

“I can’t believe it’s working. But Sam . . .”

“What?”

“I’m numb, I can’t feel it, it doesn’t hurt, but I can hear them, Sam. I can hear mouths chewing, Sam.”

What did he say to that? “Hang in there, Dekka.”

“It’s like we’re floating through the stars,” Dekka said. “I’m pretending we’re floating up to heaven.”

“Kind of hope we’re not,” Sam said.

The screeching sound had changed pitch as speed built. And there was a very stiff breeze now, pressing down on him as the container, unbound from gravity, flew and screeched.

“I wish you had not found me,” Toto said. “I was happier alone.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” Sam said.

Sam tried to guess how fast they were going by judging the wind. He tried to visualize being in a car with the window down. How hard did that wind blow when the car was going thirty or sixty or eighty miles an hour?

Was it blowing that hard now?

“Oh God, oh God, no, no, I see it, I see it!” Dekka cried and the container lurched hard and sank like a dropping elevator.

It stabilized quickly and rose to once again scrape along the dome.

In an unnatural voice Dekka said, “Sorry. I looked. It’s eating my . . .” She couldn’t finish. “I don’t think I have long, Sam.”

“Glide path,” Sam whispered. If they were moving as quickly as he hoped, wouldn’t they keep some of that forward momentum even if Dekka dropped them?

Yes. And they’d hit the ground at terminal velocity and that would be that.

It felt as if the speed might actually be dropping now and when Sam stuck his hand up he got a shocking jolt. They were nearing the top of the dome and it was flattening out. Soon it would be full body contact and how long could they stand that?

Not long.

As the slope lessened their speed would drop and they’d be more and more pressed against the barrier.

“It’s enough, Dekka,” Sam said. “Start lowering us. But not slowly.”

“What?”

“Move your gravity field so it’s stronger at the back end and weaker at the front.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing so that we’d stay tilted away from the barrier.”

“Yeah. Just do it more. Weaken it all, but more at the front end, right? It should be like sliding down a slope, right?”

To his amazement Dekka laughed aloud. “If I gotta die, this is the way to go. Wouldn’t have missed this craziness for anything.”

Suddenly the constant screech stopped.

The container lurched so wildly that Toto lost his grip and came tumbling downhill toward Sam. He tumbled slowly— they were in reduced gravity—and Sam grabbed him.

“The people back at the facility would have liked to meet Dekka,” Toto said, with his face inches from Sam’s.

“I’m sure they would.”

Another wild lurch and suddenly the container was sliding, dropping away forward. It was like a sled running down well-packed snow on a long slope.

“I can’t see the ground,” Dekka said. “I don’t want to move. You have to tell me when we’re close.”

Sam peered into the dark below, trying to pick out anything that might tell him where they were, where they were heading. But it was hills and scrubland and he’d never seen any of it from miles up in the air.

They were moving fast, sliding down an invisible slope, letting gravity pull them forward as much as downward.

“My—,” Dekka cried out.

Like an elevator with the cable cut, the bottom dropped. The container spun sideways. Sam, Toto, and Dekka spilled off.

Sam windmilled through the air, flashing on sky and ground and sea and sky again, falling and spinning, and he was sure of one thing: they were too high up and the fall would kill them.

The creatures beat on the house like bulls slamming into a wall. The windows and doors had already been bashed in and now the walls themselves were splintering. The din was shocking. The living room wall splintered, showing broken two-by-fours and twisted conduit.

Caine and Brianna cowered in the kitchen. It only had walls on two sides, with one side open to the breakfast nook and a counter separating the family room.

Caine looked around frantically for something to throw. Some furniture, some kitchen equipment, but nothing big enough to do any damage to motivated, armored beasts able to bash through walls.

“This isn’t right,” Caine said.

“You think?” Brianna yelled.

“They’re animals. They shouldn’t be this focused. They’re intelligent!”

“I don’t care if they speak Latin and can do trigonometry,” Brianna yelled. “How do we kill them?”

“They should have gotten frustrated and moved off to look for someone else to eat,” Caine said.

“Maybe we’re extra tasty.”

“There’s an intelligence behind this. A plan.”

“Yeah, the plan is kill the two of us and no one will be left to stop them,” Brianna said.

“Exactly,” Caine agreed. “Bugs don’t think that way.”

“Shhh!” Brianna held up a hand. Caine heard it, too: the sound of gunfire. At least three or four guns blazing away.

“Edilio’s guys,” Caine muttered. He was furious and relieved at the same time. He didn’t want Edilio or his cops sharing in the glory of saving the town. On the other hand: so far there wasn’t any glory.

“Upstairs!” Caine said. He ran for the steps but it meant passing close to the front door. One of the monsters had its mandibles all the way inside and was swinging them left and right, widening the shattered doorway.

Caine jumped clear of the scythes and Brianna, who was already past him and up the stairs, dashed back to grab his hand and pull him up.

“Watch out they have—,” Brianna started to say.

Something barbed and painful slapped Caine in midback. He reached over his shoulder and grabbed a sticky wet rope.

“—tongues,” Brianna finished.

She drew a knife, slashed the tongue, and yanked Caine away.

Caine tore for the bedroom window. The house was entirely surrounded. At least a dozen of the behemoths plowed the lawn with their pointy legs and drove their mandibles again and again, like battering rams, against the house.

Down the street, a block away, Ellen and two other kids fired at the backs of the creatures. The bugs ignored them.

“Yep, they are definitely focused on us,” Brianna said.

“I can’t even reach a car from here,” Caine said. “I have nothing to hit them with.”

And then it came to him: he did have something to throw.

Caine raised his hands. The bugs below spotted him and rose up on their hind four legs to come slamming themselves against the window where he stood.

Caine focused on the closest creature. And suddenly six sharp-tipped insect legs were motoring in midair. He lifted the creature as high as he could, then dropped it. The bug landed hard, but shook itself and was instantly back on the attack without so much as a broken leg.

“Turn them over!” Brianna yelled.

Caine reached for the same aggressive bug, lifted him, and this time gave the creature a spin before dropping him.

It landed on its back. All six legs kicked madly in the air. Exactly like a beetle turned over on its back.

“The washing machine,” Caine said. “Is it upstairs—”

“Right down the hall,” Brianna said.

Caine ran, lurching into a wall as the bugs outside hit the house with concerted force. Found the washing machine and lifted it away from the wall, ripping power cord and hoses in the process, and levitated it down the hall to the bedroom.

He threw it through the window. It landed harmlessly on a bug’s back. The one he had turned over had righted itself, so Caine flipped a different bug.

Then, while the creature was kicking madly trying to turn itself upright, Caine raised the washing machine high in the air and slammed it down on the creature’s exposed abdomen. It hit like a cartoon anvil.

Whumpf!

Goo spurted from the bug’s sides. The kicking legs slowed.

“Oh yeah: that works,” Caine said.

He flipped a second bug over, lifted the battered Maytag and smashed it down. This time the bug did not spray its guts immediately so he hit it again.

A huge crash and a sound of rending, twisting, ripping wood. The entire house jerked. Shuddered. And to Caine’s horror the wall before him started to fall away.

The entire house was collapsing.

Brianna blurred and was gone. Caine tried to run but the floor was tilted crazily as it fell beneath his feet. The ceiling came crashing down and Caine landed on his back as the house collapsed atop him in a wild tornado of destruction.

Something crushed his stomach. Plasterboard pressed down on his face. His hands were pinned. He gasped for air and breathed dust. He could see nothing in his immediate field of vision but wallboard and part of a framed Weezer poster.