Integration Page 9

  Chapter Six

  Recrimination

  Since the prisoner had already been secured, Stander ordered an immediate search. His order caused Angela to utter a snort of disbelief. “With both of us banged up and your man hurt, you’re asking us to go out there again?” she asked, her voice taking on an incredulous ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ tone. “My boyfriend just got knocked out, I almost got stabbed, and most of your men are dead.”

  “What would you have me do?” Stander erupted, his eyes blazing. “My men, as you’ve already indicated, are dead. My only surviving man is injured, but there are those things out there, and they’ve got to be stopped.” He thrust his chin forward and hunched his shoulders, much like a wrestler about to go on the offensive.

  “We’re not going to find them,” Paul said, still feeling somewhat nauseated from the pounding in his head. “They disappeared fast, so fast that I couldn’t track them. I can’t even smell them anymore.”

  Brushing off her cape, Angela said, “I’ll go. I’ll take a quick trip around and see what’s out there.”

  With a sense of resignation, Paul shook himself all over to loosen up and fight down the pain. “I’ll go, too.”

  Stander offered his pistol. “Take this.”

  “No thanks. I don’t like guns, and I don’t think they’d work, anyway.”

  “Fine,” Stander said and put away his weapon. “I’d suggest a crisscross type of reconnaissance—you moving right while Angela moves left. There’s more overlap and a greater possibility of finding someone.”

  “Or something,” muttered Angela, just before taking to the air.

  Sandstorm also elected to go. Paul took off just after his girlfriend did, but after ten minutes of running at top speed, stopping to smell the air and subsequently finding nothing, he halted in his tracks and called out, “Angela, I got nothing.”

  She swooped down from the heavens to land at his side. “Me too,” she replied. “Let’s go back.”

  At Bertha, Stander waited with his pistol drawn, on guard for any trouble. He didn’t seem disappointed when they told him about not finding the enemy. “You did your best,” he said in an even voice. “We’ll take this inside,” he added, jerking his thumb in the direction of the prisoner.

  Paul went over to where the girl-porcupine lay, slung her over his shoulder then walked back to the entrance. She didn’t weigh very much.

  The others followed him, and once inside, Hawkins poked his head in the door long enough to say in a most apologetic voice, “Your girlfriend saved me. That porcupine thing was going to kill me, and she stepped in.”

  “Just doing my job,” Angela said and sat down, her face calm and composed. “Let’s call it even.”

  Hawkins nodded. “Thanks to you, too. I’ll get on repairing the antenna.” He saluted and closed the door.

  “If you’re both okay,” said Stander, holstering his weapon as he came over, “I’ve got some questions for you, then for our prisoner when she wakes up.”

  He led them over to the containment cell. After pulling a set of keys from his pocket and unlocking the cell, Paul put his semi-human cargo inside then backed out. Stander removed the chains from the prisoner to lock the door. “This is tempered steel,” he said. “It’ll do in this situation. As for the chains, they’re tempered steel, too. We use them for driving in the snow. They serve other purposes, too.”

  With a thoughtful look on his face, he eyed them both. “What were you two doing out there?”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  Suddenly, Paul decided that he should be careful with what he said, and he fought off the uncomfortable feeling he was about to receive some of the blame for what had just happened.

  “It means,” Stander replied and his eyes suddenly narrowed into slits, “I was counting on you for support.”

  Gone was the gentlemanly demeanor. In its place stood command authority, precise, exacting and without feeling. “Did you abandon your positions? We couldn’t contact you.”

  “I tried,” Paul said, instantly on the defensive. “I couldn’t get through and three things were happening at once. I’m not a clone, so I couldn’t be in all those places at once. Then I got smacked around by something that looked like a slug. He knocked me out.”

  The words came out with an almost-desperate manner, but if he felt defensive, then Angela had to be feeling positively nuclear. Her voice rose to a near shout as she chimed in with, “First off, I was flying reconnaissance. You asked me. I did it. Second, the area is so big that I couldn’t see everything at the same time.”

  “We’re pretty decent in urban pacification, as you like to put it,” added Paul. “In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t an urban situation. And weren’t you supposed to be tracking us here?”

  “I was,” supplied Ooze. He had a thoughtful look on his watery face. “But the lines cut out. They smashed the antenna.”

  There was also the matter of the men being unprepared. Surprisingly, Hawkins entered and waved his hand for attention. He must have heard the shouting going on. “What is it?” Stander asked in a weary tone.

  “It wasn’t his fault, sir,” Hawkins said. “It wasn’t the girl’s fault, either. Those things moved fast. They moved too fast for us to fire. I was with Moreau, and he never got off a shot before some zombie thing grabbed him and took off.”

  Whoa, wait a minute… He also saw a zombie? Paul was confused. “Hang on. You saw a zombie? Can you tell me what it looked like?”

  “It was around seven feet tall, wearing a white shirt and jeans.”

  Shock and disbelief began to set in. “I saw a zombie, too. It was wearing the same clothes and”—Paul almost gagged at the memory—“eating the brains of two of the men.”

  “And I saw what was left of them,” said Stander, the distaste heavy in his voice. “Go on.”

  Hawkins shrugged. “That’s it. Then that porcupine girl showed up, then Angela, and…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head, as if divesting it of bad memories. “There was nothing we could do,” he whispered then ducked outside again.

  Ooze brought over the map. “Paul may be right about the cloning,” he said and pointed at three specific spots. “Here’s where he was initially.” He moved his stubby forefinger over a couple of inches to the right. “This is where he saw zombie number one and”—his hand moved again, down and to the left—“over here, too. So that means he was telling the truth. But he says he saw only one slug thing.”

  “And I didn’t see anything else,” Paul said to underscore Ooze’s words. “I don’t understand how they could have gotten away so fast or why they were damaging this transport.” He tossed Stander a look and refrained from sounding smug. “I thought this battle tank of yours could stand up to anything.”

  His statement earned him a sour look from the Ranger. “Obviously it can’t. So we’re dealing with zombies, a slug creature and something else that looks like an animal.” He shook his head. “This is like a nightmare come true.”

  A beeping sound came from the communications area. He excused himself and once he was gone, Paul stared at the figure in the cell, thoughts whirling through his brain. What were those things, and how did they manage to escape? Even more troubling was the fact that he was alive.

  “What are you thinking about?” asked Angela, bringing him back to the present.

  “I’m wondering why they didn’t kill me,” he answered. “Not that I’m not grateful or anything, but they could have.”

  She put her arms around his neck and her voice came like a soft caress. “Just be grateful they didn’t. I need you too much.”

  Her very touch made him feel a whole lot more positive. It still didn’t take away the bitterness of being semi-blamed for tonight’s fiasco.

  The sound of Stander yelling broke up their tender moment. It seemed from
the tone in his voice—pissed—things were not going to continue as they were much longer. Stander hung up and came back, swearing a blue streak. “That was Washington,” he said then muttered a series of four-letter words. “They’re not pleased about what happened.”

  “You didn’t know,” Angela said. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Oh yes it is,” he countered. “It is. We’re supposed to be prepared, and they tore through us like tissue paper. And I apologize for getting so worked up and dumping my failure on your backs earlier on. You did what you had to do and acted professionally. I’ve assumed all the blame for this. That’s the least I can do.”

  A knock on the wall got their attention. Ooze’s body briefly contorted into a question mark. “How did they get away so fast?” he asked.

  The same thought had occurred to Paul. “Maybe Peterson created them with extra powers?”

  “I don’t think so. I have an idea, but I need to take some samples.”

  Immediately, Stander’s face got a look of alarm on it. “I can’t let you go out there. Those things might be waiting. This mission is ruined, and I’m responsible for your safety—”

  “Cool your jets,” Ooze said, holding up his hand. “I just have to get some samples from your men. The bags are still outside, aren’t they?”

  Stander nodded. “We have a cargo bay. I was hoping to get them in there before daybreak.”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  Ooze went to a small table and picked up a device that looked like a thermometer, along with a couple of glass slides. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Stander yelled for Hawkins. He came inside and announced, “I managed to jury-rig the antenna, sir. It probably won’t last long, though.”

  “Never mind that now,” Stander said. “Ooze needs to take some samples from our men. Watch over him. Once he’s finished, load the bodies into the cargo bay.”

  Hawkins took out his pistol and cocked it. “Yes, sir. I’m on it.”

  “Do it,” Stander ordered. Once his man had left, he turned his attention on the figure in the cell. “She hasn’t woken up yet?”

  “I hit her pretty hard,” Angela replied. “Her quills stung, but they didn’t break my skin. On someone else, though, I’m not sure.” She and Paul leaned against the wall. They were exhausted.

  Paul thought he’d just found a reasonably comfortable spot when the sound of the door opening got his attention. Hawkins poked his head in to say the bodies were stowed away. Ooze came in first, carrying a few samples in his oversized hands, and he carefully set them down on the work table. Hawkins followed him in, shut the door then locked it.

  “Did you get what you needed?” Stander asked.

  Ooze burbled out a sigh. “I don’t have specialized equipment here,” he said, “so this is going to take at least an hour to figure out the DNA coding, if not longer. I don’t need to sleep much, but you guys need to rest.”

  A statement formed from the lump of sand on the floor. I’ll wait until you need me again. Get some rest. Statement given, Sandstorm settled down into a lump and didn’t move.

  It sounded like the best idea for the moment and Angela said, “I need my shot, anyway.”

  Ooze reached inside the fridge and pulled out the portable injector gun and a vial. He tossed them over and she quickly fitted the vial onto the top of the gun and injected herself. “Ah…” she sighed. “That feels better.”

  For his part, Paul was hungry, but there wasn’t much in the way of food around the place. “I’ve got some protein bars handy,” said Stander. “They’re not much, but they’ll do.” He went to a small wall panel, slid it open then grabbed three.

  Right now, anything would do, and Paul gratefully took them. “You two can get some rest,” Stander said. “Hawkins and I will stand duty and try to fix the damage.”

  “Thank you,” Angela said.

  She and Paul walked into the lounge area. Small and with unadorned walls, it had only one couch and nothing else. They sat, and while it wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, it would have to do.

  Paul ate the bars, closed his eyes then tried to sleep, but the images of the zombie and the nightmare he’d encountered him wouldn’t allow the blissfulness of sleep to come. He felt his body begin to shake and only Angela’s comforting embrace managed to relax him. “Sh-h,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

  ****

  He awoke some time later, feeling better and also feeling movement. Paul glanced at the front of the truck to see Hawkins at the wheel as Bertha bumped along the road. Angela was fast asleep and her arms were around his neck. Her breath came out warm and soft, and he felt comforted by her touch.

  Making a perfunctory check on his injuries, he found his body had regenerated during his nap. Mentally, though, he still felt troubled by his failure to act when everyone had needed him most.

  A grunt made him look up. Ooze was giving him the come-here gesture then signed with his body, Get over here. Paul half expected Sandstorm to do the signing, but the sand-being lay in an unmoving pile at Ooze’s feet.

  Gently disengaging himself from his girlfriend’s grasp, Paul walked over to his friend’s position and asked in a low voice, “What’s going on?”

  “You’ve been out almost two hours. While you were sleeping, I overheard a couple of pieces of news. You want the bad news first or the really bad news?”

  How could the news get any worse? “Hit me,” Paul said.

  Ooze seemed uncertain as to what to say. He shifted in his seat until Paul stabbed him—gently—with his forefinger. He already had a feeling what Ooze was going to tell him, but he had to know. “It’s about Max, isn’t it?”

  “He passed away. I got the news on my laptop.” Water bubbled in his body. “I’m sorry.”

  While not unexpected, it still hit Paul hard, and he knuckled away the tears that had quickly sprung from his eyes. With an effort, he stopped his voice from cracking too much. “He was a good guy, the only one who ever looked out for me.”

  Lost in grief, he stood with his head bowed and silently hoped Max would find a better place. He’d never been religious, but he’d respected Max for never pushing religion on him while he lived at St. Joe’s. And now Max was gone, died and consigned to be a piece of his history all too soon.

  After heaving in a deep, shuddering breath, he decided to put this in the back of his mind. He’d grieve later. “What’s the second bit of joy?”

  “Stander got the order from Washington to return to base. Base means where the hangar is. We’re supposed to stay there until they call on us again.” He sounded doubtful. “I wonder if they’re going to arrest us.”

  A sudden burst of anger caused Paul to raise his voice. “Arrest us? Arrest us for what? For doing our jobs?” Wary that everyone had heard, he hastily covered his mouth.

  “Bud, I don’t make the rules here,” said Ooze in a wounded tone. “I overheard the conversation, and our leader didn’t sound happy.”

  When things got messed up, they really got messed up, Paul considered, as he stared at the computer screen. “So, is that all you’re going to tell me?”

  In answer, Ooze took a quick look around and whispered, “I’ve got an answer as to why we didn’t find anyone.”

  Stander had been sitting in a chair, apparently dozing, but he abruptly picked his head up and asked, “Do I get to be included in this science talk?”

  Paul almost laughed, although this situation didn’t call for it. Surprisingly, the colonel had a sense of humor, not to mention pretty decent hearing. “Yeah, and we’ll use really simple words.”

  A harsh chuckle greeted him. “Go on. That’s why we’re here, and I can assume your friend told you we’re going back to the base?”

  Ooze pointed at a slide. “I did, and get ready for science lesson number one. There isn’t much left, but I know why
we couldn’t find these guys. They dissolved.”

  “Dissolved,” repeated Stander in a voice of disbelief. “How could they just dissolve?”

  “It’s called molecular instability. You remember when you told me about the bodies you found here, and I told you about the different genotypes?”

  “I do. Go ahead.”

  Pointing at the slide, Ooze tapped a few buttons on the onboard computer and a picture of a cell came up. “This is a normal human cell,” he said then tapped another button. A second picture appeared, very similar to the first. In fact, it looked identical, like any ordinary cell, round and unthreatening, but a second later it split apart, shrank, then disappeared from the screen.

  “Can you tell me what in the hell just happened,” breathed Stander.

  “What we just saw in the second picture, colonel, is molecular instability. We—Angela, Sandstorm and me—were all created from Dr. Bolson’s stem cells, but he was fully human.”

  Ooze leaned back and put his fingers together to form the shape of a steeple. It seemed as though he was meditating on what to say. Finally, he offered, “I’m not sure, but I’m guessing what everyone saw out there were creations from Peterson’s stem cells. They aren’t stable, and that’s why the creatures’ bodies broke down and dissolved.”

  The look in Stander’s eyes could only be described as incredulous. “So he’s built expendable warriors?”

  “Looks like it.”

  Paul listened, and the more he listened, the more it all made sense—and the more it scared him. “Do you know what the lifespan of these things is?”

  Ooze shook his head, ran his fingers over the keyboard and made some calculations. A number of mathematical equations flew across the screen. “I can’t be sure, but as a rough estimate, about five hours, maybe more. When you think about it, it’s a great plan.”

  “Right. Take their side,” Stander muttered.