Bill 5 - on the Planet of Zombie Vampires (11 page)

“They could have divided. Lots of creatures do that. Amoebas, for instance. But that's not the bad news.”

“Wait up,” said Bill, “We got maybe four vampires loose on the ship, and that's not the bad news? What could be worse?”

“It's quite possible they are not running around on the ship.”

“That's a relief,” said Uhuru.

“No, it's not,” said Caine slowly. “That's the bad news. They might be developing to their next stage inside the bodies of Bruiser and Mr. Christianson.”

Everybody but the two aforementioned possible hosts stopped eating and stared in horror at the potential danger in their midst.

“Dat's not funny,” said Bruiser, glowering around at the horrified spectators. “I never heard of nothin' like dat.”

“It's really quite common in nature,” cozened Caine. “All of us totally competent scientists know of many examples. Wasps that lay their eggs on caterpillars are the ones I'm most familiar with. But, of course, there are tapeworms and all kinds of other parasites.”

“I hear that people with tapeworms have big appetites,” said Bill, eyeballing Bruiser suspiciously.

“There is certain evidence to justify that supposition,” admitted Caine.

Bruiser and Christianson were the only two still eating. Everyone else's appetites had been ruined by the tapeworm talk and a growing certainty that something awful was about to happen.

“If that's true,” said Uhuru, not taking his eyes off Bruiser, “what happens next?”

“When the alien reaches the next stage of its development it — or they — will come out.”

“How?” asked Bill, filled with mounting dread.

“Any way they want to,” said Caine.

“Ugh!” gasped Bruiser, clutching his stomach. “Urp! Ack! Bletch!”

“What's happening?” screamed Uhuru, pushing his chair back and jumping away from the table.

“We're all going to die,” moaned Tootsie. “I knew it!”

“Urp! Urp!” coughed Bruiser. “Ack!”

“He's having a fit!” cried a clone. “Somebody do something! Put a spoon in his mouth!”

“I think he's choking,” said Bill. “If he is, putting a spoon in his mouth would be a bad idea.”

“The aliens are trying to bust out of his body in a bloody nasty horrible way!” moaned Tootsie. “We're all going to die!”

“How interesting,” said Caine. “I really should be taking notes. This could be of considerable interest to the scientific community.”

“Garp!” garped Bruiser, flopping back in his chair. “Ick! Urp!”

“We've got to do something,” said Rambette. “Bill, you can't sit there and let him die!”

“I'm thinking it over,” said Bill. “He wants to chop off my legs, you know.”

“Nobody's perfect,” said Rambette, pounding Bruiser on the back. “Give me a hand.”

“I think you're supposed to grab him around the waist and give a hard jerk,” said Bill, getting up.

“So do it!” shrieked Rambette. “We don't have much time!”

“I can't get my arms around him,” said Bill. “He's too fat.”

Rambette and Bill joined hands, and after arguing about the possible location of Bruiser's diaphragm, gave a solid jerk. Bruiser grunted loudly and the table was suddenly splattered heavily.

“Yeow!” screamed Tootsie. “We're as good as dead!”

“It's a ghastly mess,” cried Uhuru, sneaking toward the door. “I knew I shouldn't have let you back on the ship. Anybody see the aliens?”

“There's nothing here but partially digested food,” said Caine, poking around with androidal scientific curiosity. “He was simply choking. That's most disappointing. I was hoping for an alien.”

“I told him to chew his food better,” said Rambette. “But would he listen? No.”

“Anyone for seconds?” asked Captain Blight, wheeling in a cart overloaded with food. He screamed when they all started to punch him. “What are you doing? What's happening? And if you have complaints — so do I. I was stirring up another batch of blintzes and — hey! — somebody get that mouse scuttling across the floor. We can't have any rodents in the dining area.”

Bill stomped down hard with his elephant foot. What crunched underneath didn't feel much like a mouse. He lifted his foot slowly and looked at what was stuck to the sole with horror.

“Did you get it?” asked Blight.

“I certainly did,” said Bill. “But I don't think it was a mouse. Come look.”

“Fascinating,” said Caine, as everybody gathered around to examine Bill's foot.

“Is that one of the aliens?” moaned Tootsie.

“It was one,” Caine said. “Bill has, unfortunately, squashed it beyond recognition. I would have liked to examine it.”

“Where's it come from?” asked Tootsie. “Did it come busting out of Bruiser?”

“No,” said Blight. “It came busting out of the kitchen. I saw it scuttle out from behind a sack of flour.”

“Are those teeth?” asked Rambette. “Those white things stuck in the middle of all that gore?”

“They look like teeth to me,” Christianson said. “Pretty sharp ones, too.”

“Sure are a lot of them,” said Rambette. “A whole lot of them.”

“I believe that it is fairly safe to say we're not dealing with a vegetarian here,” said Caine, examining the remains of the alien with his pocket electronic magnifying microscope and throat spray. “These are the sharpest teeth I've ever seen.”

“You saved my life,” said Bruiser, giving Bill a bone-crushing bear hug. “I owe you one.”

“Gasp,” gasped Bill. “Gasp.”

“You good guy. So I go with you back down into dat dark place to get my Slasher.”

“Thanks,” croaked Bill.

“I would not advise returning to the station,” advised Caine. “Much less paying a visit to the basement. It could be quite hazardous.”

“But we need supplies from there or we won't be able to get off this crappy planet,” cried Uhuru. “Somebody's got to go back.”

“That somebody is not going to be me,” moaned Tootsie.

“Quit all that moaning, Tootsie,” Rambette commanded sneeringly. “It's getting on my nerves.”

“Would you rather I whined?” she whined.

“No, go back to moaning,” shuddered Rambette. “Whining drives me up the wall. Moaning just gets on my nerves.”

“Back off a little,” said Uhuru. “We're all under a great deal of stress. Everybody would feel a lot better if we all took a brief time-out to get our alpha rhythms in order. Let's just stop and smell the roses.”

“Shove your alpha rhythms,” snapped Rambette. “I don't believe in that ancient new age stuff.”

“I don't know about anybody else,” muttered Bill, “but I could use some sleep.”

“Sleep?” screeched Uhuru. “How can you think of sleep at a time like this?”

“Easy,” yawned Bill. “Have you noticed that none of us have had any sleep since we landed on this planet? How long have we been here? Weeks?”

“More like days,” yawned Tootsie. “Long enough. Too long.”

“You got it in one,” said Bill. “And the latrine. I haven't noticed anybody trotting off to the head either.”

“Something wrong with your nose?” Rambette sniffed. “I wouldn't go there for anything. The compost pile smells better than that place.”

“I been twice,” belched Bruiser. “No problem.”

“You humans had better get some rest,” suggested Caine. “I will stay awake examining what remains of the squashed creature.”

“What if the alien vampires come up and suck us dry while we sleep?” Tootsie shuddered. “I don't want to be turned into a mummy or a zombie, not even a troll.”

“I will keep watch,” said Caine. “Androids do not need sleep in the sense that humans do. We doze a little while our batteries are recharging, but that's all.”

“How are your batteries?” asked Uhuru anxiously.

“My batteries are fine, thank you,” said Caine testily. “I suggest you all retire to your bunks and catch up with what you call sack-time. I will keep watch for the vampire aliens.”

“Did anyone close the door to the docking tube?” asked Uhuru. “We don't need any more of those alien creatures in the ship.”

“Larry did,” said Curly or Moe. “I saw him myself.”

“I guess it's okay, then,” said Uhuru. “But I'm leaving a night-light on, and I'm sleeping in my spacesuit.”

“Big coward,” said Bruiser. “Come, Bill. Get stinking dog and let's go.”

Barfer growled and snarled outside the door to Bill's bunk, but a search revealed nothing more sinister than Bruiser's dirty magazines. Bill decided to leave his night-light on and Bruiser muttered sadistic stories about his adventures with Slasher until he fell asleep.

But when sleep came, it was a troubled and disturbed sleep, filled with horrible nightmares of the creeping and crawling variety. At one point, Bill thought he felt something scuttling over his body and sucking blood out of his neck. Then he dreamed he was lurching around the corridors of the ship bumping into things, a vacant expression in his eyes and his arms held straight out like a zombie.

“Wake up Bill,” said Caine, shaking him by the shoulders. “You've been sleepwalking.”

“Where am l?” Bill asked, confused.

“You're in the okra room, and the plants are in one of their night cycles. I found you lurching around in the dark bumping into things like a zombie.”

“A zombie! I had a bad dream.”

“You had more than that,” said Caine. “Look at your neck.”

“I can't,” said Bill.

“Come on, it's not that bad.”

“No. I can't see my neck without a mirror. It's like looking in my ear. I just can't do it. What's wrong?”

“I can't be sure here in the darkness,” murmured Caine. “But it looks like there are two little blood-encrusted pinpricks on your neck. Let's go back to my laboratory, the light's better there.”

“Maybe,” Bill said hesitantly. “But no blood samples.”

“If you insist.”

They were met in the laboratory by Rambette, Tootsie, and Uhuru, who all said that they had been unable to sleep. Uhuru was once again wearing his spacesuit and had hung a string of garlic cloves around his neck.

“Bill looks pale,” gasped Rambette. “What's wrong?”

“It would appear to this educated observer that an alien has been feeding upon him,” said Caine, moving close to Bill and taking a good look at his neck. “This is most interesting from a clinical standpoint. How do you feel?”

“I feel like I've been lurching around in the dark bumping into stuff,” said Bill. “Aside from a few bruises, I'm okay. Just a little drained.”

“I knew it!” moaned Tootsie. “They're going to pick us off one by one. I thought you were going to keep watch, Caine.”

“I only dozed off once,” said the android. “Scientific investigation is a most strenuous activity.”

“Look what I found by Bill's bunk,” said Bruiser, coming into the room holding a fuzzy object. “We got to get my Slasher right away.”

“What is it?” wailed Tootsie.

“Another shed skin,” Caine said, taking it from Bruiser and spreading it out on his potting bench. “Evidently the creature molted again after it had drinkies from Bill. You can see it is much larger than the one he unfortunately stomped.”

“Uglier, too,” said Rambette, poking it with one of her knives. “And even more horrendous, if that's possible.”

The molted skin was about the size of a large dog. It was clear from the remains that the alien at this stage of development was mostly teeth, fangs, and claws. It had a huge, sloping head and a spiked tail as long as one of Bill's right arms. Everything was covered with a thick coat of orange hair and purple warts.

“That looks real dangerous, not to mention disgusting,” said Uhuru, adjusting his garlic necklace. “A monster that size could do serious damage to a person.”

“Don't forget that its dimensions have increased beyond what we see here,” said Caine. “The alien shed its skin because it grew out of it, and therefore in all probability it is now quite gigantic. My scientific curiosity is aroused. I wonder what its maximum size will be? It is possible there is no limit to its growth as long as its food supply holds out.”

“I don't think that I like being called a food supply,” complained Bill.

“Everyone here is a potential food supply,” said Caine. “Except, of course, for myself. I seriously doubt that these creatures would find androids a suitable source of nutrition.”

“Well, I ain't gonna be no lunch for no monster,” said Bruiser.

“And that goes double for me,” said Uhuru.

“You egocentric humans fail to grasp the far-reaching implications of our extraordinary discovery,” sniffed Caine, inspecting a dangling leg. “We have an incredibly adaptable organism here, one that can assume many different shapes and forms.”

“These horrors do come in all sizes,” said Rambette. “As near as I can see, they tend to lean more toward large and larger. They all give me the creeps, except when they were little and cute.”

“The aliens must be viewed as an opportunity to advance the body of mankind's knowledge,” Caine said. “Each stage of development is fascinating in its own right and should be studied down to its last molecule.”

“You'd feel differently if you were sitting on an alien's plate,” said Tootsie.

“I rather doubt that,” said Caine dryly, measuring the carcass with a yardstick and taking notes in a small book. “I am an objective observer at all times.”

“I observe you're getting alien gunk all over that yardstick,” said Rambette. “And some of it is dripping on your shoe.”

“I shall be famous,” said Caine. “This will make a wonderful research paper. I'll be published in all the best journals. As a botanist I faced a long and boring future, but the future's not what it used to be anymore. Everything has changed. As a researcher specializing in disgusting aliens, I'll be known across the universe. I'll be the number one expert. I'll — hey! — who stole my fur and feathers? They were right here a little while ago.”

“Maybe they walked away,” said Tootsie.

“This is no time for levity,” snapped Caine. “This is serious business. We must compare the chemical makeup of the different stages from which we have samples. Where are the scrapings I took from Bill's foot? Has everything disappeared?”

“Maybe you're turning into an absentminded professor,” suggested Rambette.

“Everybody help me, look around,” ordered Caine. “I must find my samples.”