Night of the Living Trekkies (26 page)

He found Leia sitting serenely at the base of an oak tree.

“That was an excellent plan, Captain,” she said. “A double diversion. Kirk would be proud.”

“It was half your idea,” he reminded her. “Using the pillowcase as a fuse was an inspired touch.”

“I was happy to be of service.”

He knelt beside her, checking her neck and arms for any sign of an emerging third eye. For a moment, all seemed good—until his fingers found the boil on the back of her neck. It was a blotch of purple flesh about the size of a golf ball; the bruised skin pulsed beneath his touch.

“Is that what I think it is?” Leia asked.

“Don’t give up yet,” Jim told her. “There’s a chance we can stop this thing.”

He hastily explained what Sandoval had told him—that the parasites inside Leia might be extinguished until the moment the third eye emerged. He unzipped his duffel bag and loaded a fresh battery pack into the Taser. “If we hurry, it might work.”

“How do we know he was telling the truth?” Leia asked.

“We don’t,” Jim said. “But we have to try.”

Leia eyed Jim carefully.

“You don’t need to lie to me,” she said. “I’m not afraid to die.”

“I’ve never lied to you about anything,” Jim said. “I won’t start now. But if this is going to work, it has to happen quickly.”

She slowly, painfully stood up and turned her back to him, extending her arms. In just the span of a minute, the boil on the back of her neck had become darker and even more inflamed. It appeared to be twitching.

“Go ahead,” Leia shouted. “What are you waiting for?”

“First, tell me your name,” Jim said. “Your real name.”

“I’ll tell you if I survive.”

“Tell me now,” he said. “I have to know.”

“It’s Shelly.”

“Shelly what?”

“Shelly Dumpkin.”

“Seriously? Dumpkin?”

“I’ll take your name when we get married,” she promised him. “Assuming you can still handle the idea of a cross-genre relationship.”

Jim didn’t know if he could proceed. The pain of being tased was nothing compared to this. He was about to save the life of a woman he loved, or end it. He wanted more time. But every second of delay lengthened the odds.

A sudden flash of light drew his attention. Leia—
Shelly
, he thought—looked too. In the distance they saw an immense orangered fireball broach the horizon and rise to the sky. It climbed and climbed, morphing into a towering mushroom cloud.

“Good-bye, Houston,” he whispered.

“Hurry, Jim,” she said. “It’s happening.”

Jim tore his eyes away from the conflagration and looked at her neck again. The boil was changing now. It appeared to be stretching, fluttering, boiling—

Hatching
.

Jim pointed the Taser and fired.

The gun was at maximum setting. Though it took every last shard of his will, Jim kept the current flowing.

To make sure. One way or the other.

When it was over, Shelly’s body lay still on the dusty Texas hardpan.

Jim let the Taser fall from his hand.

I’ll carry her all the way to the roadblock if I have to
, he thought.
I won’t leave her lying here in the middle of the woods. I’ll bring her someplace safe. Where nothing can ever harm her again.

He dropped to his knees beside her and stroked her hair.

The collar of Shelly’s costume fell back, laying bare the wounds on her neck. Jim’s vision was obscured by tears. It took him a few seconds to realize that the injuries had changed.

They weren’t bleeding anymore.

Shelly stirred in his arms.

“I . . .,” she whispered.

Jim leaned closer. “You’re all right?You can hear me?”

Shelly opened her eyes. “I . . . I felt . . .”

Jim lifted her by the shoulders, helping her sit up. “Take your time,” he said. “Speak slowly. What are you trying to say?”

She coughed a few times, clearing her throat. “I felt a great disturbance in the force.”

“What force?” he asked. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m quoting
Star Wars
dialogue,” she said. “I do it whenever I’m nervous. I thought you’d figured that out by now.”

“You’re joking with me?” He wiped the tears from his face. “You’re really okay?”

Shelly took stock of herself.

“I think so,” she said. “I don’t feel them anymore. And I don’t feel sick.”

Jim checked the marks on her neck once more.

“They aren’t bleeding,” he said. “I think it worked.”

They embraced just as the shockwave from the nuclear blast arrived. Hot wind swept over their bodies, and the ground trembled under their feet. They barely noticed.

Rayna ran over to them. She’d wiped away her blue Andorian makeup and removed the antennae.

She saw the mushroom cloud and stopped.

“I think GulfCon is officially over,” Jim said.

“And not a minute too soon,” Shelly added.

Rayna said nothing. Instead, she enfolded Shelly in a crushing embrace.

“You’re okay?” she asked, fresh tears streaming down her face.

“I think so,” Shelly said. “I think we’re all okay.”

“Then we did it,” Rayna exclaimed. “We’re not in a zombie movie anymore. Or a video game. It’s like we’re back in a
Star Trek
episode, where we belong.”

“Or maybe we’re not in anything,” Jim said. “Maybe this is a new story: Once upon a time, there were three people stranded in the middle of a desert. They had no vehicles, no plans, and no idea what to do next.”

“I think they’d follow the highway to the next town,” Shelly said. “But first they’d raid the rest area vending machines.”

“That’s right,” Rayna said. “They’d grab all the food and drink they could carry. High-energy, low-volume stuff, like peanuts and candy bars.”

Shelly nodded. “And they’d carry Tasers, in case there’s trouble.”

“A survival story,” Rayna said.

“
Our
story,” Jim said, turning to face the road. “And it starts right now.”

*    *    *

Copyright © 2010 by Kevin David Anderson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Number: 2010928603

e-ISBN: 978-1-59474-516-4

Designed by Doogie Horner
Production management by John J. McGurk
Cover illustration by Glen Orbik

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