Dominant Species Volume One -- Natural Selection (Dominant Species Series) (49 page)

Too easy,
Phil
thought.
Much too easy.

Phil stopped the Indian with an open hand and stomped—his rage
boiling with each step—into the chamber.

The first alien was still squealing and holding the arrow by the
shaft. In its other hand was a hissing cutter which the alien lifted in Phil’s
direction. Phil grabbed the thin wrist and nearly crushed it with the force of
his grip. The cutter dropped to the table. Phil picked it up, and still holding
the alien by its arm, proceeded to cut the alien’s hand off with a quick zip.
The spidery hand plopped to the floor.

“Doesn’t work so good on a subject who’s . . . not paralyzed, does
it?”

The alien animal just stood there, and Phil grabbed it by the
snout and, running the cutter under its head, nearly decapitated it. It
collapsed on the floor, and Phil tossed the cutter down on it. He was a little
pissed that it died so quickly and relatively painlessly.

There was still one more to try his secret weapon on.

The second alien was much more determined in its bid for escape
and, like a frightened animal, tried to run away from the monster stalking it.
Its sudden, shifting movements set off some primal predatory response in Phil,
making him focus on it and increasing his rage. Squealing, it dashed around the
table and tried to figure a way out of the lab, but the little Indian held it
at bay by shaking the bow at it. Dodging and feinting, Phil worked it into a
space between two pods and watched as it tried to press itself into the very
wall in its attempt to get away. Terrified, its hands worked at the space
behind the pod, trying to get into the impossible space. It hissed and bared
its teeth and squealed. Its sparse coat of spines stood straight up.

This was
the conquering race,
Phil thought with disgust.
A vicious, squirming little monster right out of a science
fiction novel. Goddamn it!

He almost reached in and dragged it out, but the revulsion of
touching it was too much. Besides, he could use his weapon on it right where it
was just fine. He raised his booted foot as high as he could and stomped the
alien under its arm once, hard, turning the squeal into a high-pitched
heef!
once
again, and it fell to the floor mewing pitiably. He began to kick it with hard,
carefully placed kicks to the head and mid-section until the sound stopped.
Then he kicked its head several times more for good measure.

“Fucking piece of shit!” he hissed through clenched teeth and
kicked it again. “Die!”

Mary and Bailey watched over the Indian’s shoulder.

“Jesus . . .” Mary said.

“Cool,” Bailey added.

Seseidi watched and was much impressed with the fierceness of the
white warrior. It was good, very good how he killed the ugly little spirit. He
must get boots like that someday, too.

“Where the fuck are the incubation cells from here!” Phil yelled
at Bailey.

Bailey thought about it and pointed.

“They should be right over there on the other side of the . . . uh
. . . central thing . . . a few loops up. I think. Oh, can we . . . please?”

Phil knew what was on her mind: the same thing that was on his.
His blood was boiling and that was all that mattered in the universe.

“There’s been a change in plans,” he barked. “Move!”

“Yes!” Bailey exclaimed.

Mary started to say something.

“Move!”

Bailey sprinted off in the lead.

16

Revenge burned and only the blood of those who had ignited it
could snuff it. The big chamber where the extractions took place was divided
into three areas: the impregnation cells where the captives were exposed to the
wasps; a row of horizontal chambers against another wall where the captives
were contained while the eggs hatched and grew to full size; and the open
center area with surgical tables where the larvae were extracted. The chamber
was large, about forty feet across with a twenty-foot, hemispherical ceiling.
Two tubes emptied into the chamber.

There was a convenient bend in the tube just before it opened into
the big chamber. As they approached, the air filled with the strained,
plaintive groaning of the captives on the aliens’ tables. The sound was as
tangible and oppressive as a wet blanket.

Holding the others back and sticking tight to the wall, Phil moved
up to peek around the corner.

There were four witches working over the splayed-open bodies of
captives, and two big bastards in the chamber assisted the witches. One of the
goons was carrying a young woman with blond hair from the impregnation cells to
the incubation cells. Her bare legs were bruised and one of them was smeared
with what Phil took as the remains of a wasp. She must have been quick, or
lucky; Phil had never heard of a captive smashing a wasp in the cells.

He pulled back slowly.

“Two bastards. Four witch-bitches,” he whispered. “Nothing leaves
alive.”

“I can’t wait . . .” Bailey said.

Phil thought it out. “Look, the little brown dude can probably
shoot the big pricks from here. As soon as he darts the second one, we charge
in and take up positions in front of the far entrance to block the witches’
escape. The last thing we want is one of those fuckers getting out. Got it?”

Mary and Bailey nodded.

“Good,” he said.

He pulled Seseidi a little aside, then imitated a goon with his
arms out wide and with his cheeks puffed. Then, he made like he was shooting
the bow and the goon was taking the arrow in the gut.

Seseidi nodded, flashed a smile and pulled out three arrows from
the quiver. He knocked one and holding the others against the front section of the
bow, moved up into position. Shirtless, he was almost perfectly camouflaged
against the brown wall.

Wasting no time, he drew the arrow back and took aim on the most
distant goon’s back. He let the arrow go. The deep
thrump
sound
from the bow was swallowed up by the groans coming from the chamber. No sooner
had he shot than his quick hands were making another arrow ready to fly.

The arrow struck the goon in the upper center of the back. The
goon snapped around to confront the source of the offending pain. When it did,
the arrow came away from its tip and flew to the floor. It bounced soundlessly
on the rubbery surface.

Seseidi took aim on the second goon.

When the Indian released the arrow, Phil, Mary and Bailey rushed
by him almost before it was clear of the bow. The arrow struck the second goon
in the shoulder just as the first one dropped dead. The aliens hadn’t seen or
heard a thing until that moment, so intent were they on their jobs, but they
saw the sprinting shapes of Phil and Mary. Sensing danger, they hissed at them
as they streaked past. Phil was almost to the far tube when one of the aliens,
smelling the trap, ran toward the opening to get out. Phil sprinted up behind
it a few steps and was intercepted by the second goon and knocked face down to
the floor.

When he turned, the big bastard was standing over him with the
arrow hanging out of its shoulder like a stiff, paralytic arm. Phil could see
the bands of ink he’d drawn on the shaft to indicate a possible weak dosage.
The creature reached down and picked Phil up by the shirt as if he were stuffed
with straw. Just as his feet left the ground, Seseidi’s third arrow flew past
Phil’s head and stuck in the goon’s neck. The creature dropped Phil; and by the
time its enormous hand found the tiny shaft, it fell over backwards, hitting
the floor with a heavy thump.

When Phil looked down the far tunnel, Mary was standing with her
foot in the middle of the back of the alien that had tried to get away, pinning
it securely to the floor. Bailey was holding a dart to the thing’s neck with
both hands.

“Kill it!” Phil yelled.

Bailey jammed the dart down hard with an animal grunt and the
alien screeched like an oversized kitten.

“Yummy,” Bailey said with a psychotic twang, backing away from it.

The alien started to mew in a long, rasping monotone. Mary
continued to hold it down and its thin arms flailed uselessly. Phil had been
right about their fighting ability:
 
they
didn’t have any.

Phil tramped over to Mary’s position. He could see its contorted
face, and its disgusting, lipless howl filled him with a lust to smash its
skull. “Make it shut up!” he snarled.

Mary stomped down hard on its back a few times, but all she did
was modulate the howling mew up and down a scale.

Phil brought his foot up and came down in a fury on the side of
the thing’s long, pointed head. He felt bone click and break under his boot. It
was one of the most satisfying sensations he’d ever felt. The hideous mewing
stopped abruptly.

Phil stomped its head again and again, crushing it down until dark
fluid ran out the thing’s nose and mouth.

He looked over at Bailey who, with the Indian, now had the other
tube blocked squarely. Dart at the ready, she threatened the aliens, hooting
and jabbing at them. The aliens formed up into a squirming knot in the center
of the chamber.

Phil walked over to within arm’s reach and put a dart’s tip into
the hissing parted lips of the closest alien.

“Bastards,” he hissed back.

He looked over at the woman on the closest table. Her torso was
opened in several huge incisions, the flesh neatly stretched back and pinned by
dark alien clamps. She was watching Phil and through the sickly veil of shock
and pain, he could detect just the slightest smile on her face. She looked kindly
and generous, and her eyes were wise and the deepest green in color. Phil was
certain she was someone’s good and loving mother.

That was it.

“You mother fuckers!”
he said
and jammed the shaft of the dart hard up into the alien’s pallet. The alien
choked and stumbled backward. When it started to mew, the sound caused Phil to
snap.
 
He grabbed it by the throat. The
other aliens shrank back like fearful rats. Phil breathed deep and luxuriously
through his clenched teeth and squeezed the thin neck until his fingers nearly
touched. He could feel its spines pierce his skin.

In a most bizarre gesture, one of the other aliens reached out and
gently patted Phil’s arm to try to make him let go, as if there had been some
horrible, correctable misunderstanding. The action filled him with such hatred
that he felt he would explode. He grabbed that one by the neck, too, and choked
off its air like a living clamp. The sensation of their loose, spiny skin under
his hands inspired him to crush even harder. Their stiff little fingers clawed
at the thick, straining muscles in his forearms. Holding them by their necks,
he stood there, squeezing them until his arms trembled with the strain. He
grinned a clenched, feral grin and squeezed and squeezed until they hung limp.

Bailey moved up behind the last one, drew her club from her belt
and brought it down on its head with such ferocity that its dark blood
splattered Phil’s face. When the alien fell to the floor, she continued to bash
it until large sections of bloody white cartilage showed through on its face
and head.

She reached down and wrapped her arms around the alien’s short
legs and with a deep growl, lifted it up. Using her strong legs and back as a
counterweight, she proceeded to swing it again and again against the hard edge
of the nearest table. She continued to pulverize it until she could no longer
lift it.

They would have continued to strangle and homogenize the monsters
forever if Mary hadn’t intervened.

“Stop,” she said. “They’re dead. Bailey. Phil. Stop.”

Now kneeling among the dead aliens and still choking them, Phil
finally let go and got up. He shook the cramps out his hands and smiled
sheepishly, crazily at Mary.

Seseidi had watched the whole thing from the safety of the farthest
wall and thought only of how fierce the white warrior was to do this thing to
the enemy, and he smiled. He had never seen such fierceness in a woman,
however. This confused him. He smiled anyway.

Bailey gave hers one last kick. “Now I don’t give a shit what
happens to me.”