Second Chances (56 page)

“Sticky traps?”

“Yeah. Like fly traps but on the ground. A sheet with some prey in the middle. They get on it and stick.”

“These things are big you know...” Brian said, sounding concerned. “I'm not sure it will help.”

“Couldn't hurt,” Bob said. “And it may get the smaller younger bugs,” he said.

Brian nodded. He looked at Mitch. Mitch nodded for him to get to work. “I'll have the kids help,” Brian said, taking off at a trot.

Lisa arrived with a black light. She silently handed it to Mitch and then left without a word. Mitch flipped it on and then off again.

“I'm concerned about how the poison will affect armadillos. Even if they don't get into it, if they or a cat or dog eat a bug that died I don't want them on my conscious,” Maggie said over the radio. “I've got Giles and Walter doing a roundup,” she said.

“Roger that, Mags. See if you can just contain them to areas we haven't gotten to yet.”

“I'm going to move them out to the barn temporarily. We're already working on it,” Maggie said in a no nonsense tone. He grunted but then nodded. “There is some concern over the fumes going up to where people live so they are moving out now too,” Maggie reported. “The good news is the smaller bugs are tasty snacks for the cats, chickens and dinosaurs. They love them. But the big ones are too much.”

“I know,” Mitch said. “I'm still having nightmares over that twelve-foot centipede,” he said, making Bob look up in alarm.

“You aren't serious are you?” he asked, eyes wide. “Twelve feet?” he asked, clearly shaken.

“We told you they are big, Bob,” Mitch said.

Bob looked at the solution. “Now I'm wondering if this is going to be strong enough. It's supposed to soak in but...”

“If you need something stronger, we can work something up,” Mitch vowed.

“That's not the problem. Most pesticides don't work on scorpions. You have to have some special ones and I don't know if you can do that.”

“I've got a full chemical works here. And a molecular furnace. Tell me what you need, and we'll find the formula and make it,” Mitch said.

“Well, let's see if this works first,” Bob said, closing the lid on the sprayer. “Douse the lights and hand me that black light will you? I think we're ready for a test drive,” he said.

“Sure,” Mitch said, screwing up his courage. “Maggie, you heard?”

“Roger,” she said. “You left the channel open again.”

“I know I did. I did it for a reason. Tell the others we're doing a test. We'll start in the great room,” he explained.

“It's clear,” she said. “I'm signing off,” she said, cutting the channel.

Mitch nodded as Bob hefted the sprayer. “This way,” he said, indicating to Bob to follow. Bob sprayed the baseboards briefly then followed him.

------*------

Five minutes into the job Bob started talking. Mitch was glad, being in the dark with the guy was giving him the willies. He kept close; he realized he should have asked for two of the damn black lights.

“See, it's fun after a while, thrilling. You're hunting the bastards down. Usually you do this outside. It's okay if they are outside; they are god's creatures after all. But inside...” he frowned and shined a light into a crevice. Something scuttled and he gasped. “Jesus H Christ! Are you shitting me??!” He demanded, fumbling the light. “That big?”

“Yeah. And bigger,” Mitch said.

“Shit. We're going to need a lot more spray. And more lights,” Bob said. He worked the wand tip into the crevice and hit the trigger. They could hear something scuttling inside. He grinned. “Die you bastards, die!”

------*------

The spray Bob had mixed up lasted a half hour and through the great room and into one corridor. “We're definitely going to need a lot more of this,” Bob said.

“Okay, we can do that,” Mitch said, putting the order in over his tablet.

“A lot more. Probably tons. You're going to need to spray, probably monthly,” he urged.

“The armadillos do a good job of killing them,” Mitch said.

“What about cats?”

“They usually get killed,” Mitch said grimly. Bob stared at him. “The scorpions are big. They sting and it's a paralytic poison that hits us too. Even adults,” he said grimly pointing to Bob and then himself. Bob gulped. “Once you are down, they move into the mouth and lay eggs. Thousands and thousands of eggs. The eggs hatch a day or two later and the larva eat their way out of the body.”

“Oh my god,” Bob said quietly. Mitch nodded grimly. “Yeah. The eggs get everywhere, even the blood stream. They can cause embolisms and all sorts of problems before they hatch too.”

“Shit. This really is serious.”

“We lost a kid to these just before winter,” Mitch said.

“Okay, well, while I mix up a couple more batches, I need you to do some stuff for me,” Bob said.

“Shoot,” Mitch said. Bob outlined his plan.

The first step was easy; Mitch used his tablet to alter the base’s climate control to remove water vapor from the air with the dehumidifiers. That made the air in the base dry, very dry. Within an hour a few people complained about dry throat or coughed but they got used to it.

Next, he passed on an order for Henry, Miguel and the other construction workers to caulk every nook and cranny since the animals could flatten themselves to pass through cracks. “I did that when I built the base but I'm not sure I got everywhere. I did tape every duct though. Not that it helped, I think they clawed their way inside,” Mitch said to Bob.

“Well, we'll do it again if you've got the supplies. All over, everywhere. Anything wider than a slip of paper. It's not just to stop them, but also to stop their prey from coming in,” Bob explained.

“Ah, gotcha,” Brian replied with a nod.

Once they were through with the base, Bob and the crew bedded down warily with everyone else. Mitch woke several times to look about. He even took a shift keeping an eye out for the damn bugs. They had an armadillo with them, but since the six-legged thing was stuffed it probably wasn't interested in hunting.

------*------

The next morning they woke and did a search of the base. They found a couple dead insects but no more intruders. Bob had them check the caulk again, then work on the ducts and false ceilings.

While Henry and Miguel got people on that, Bob pulled the chief and gunny together to organize a return to the cavern below. “This time, by god, we go prepared,” the gunny vowed, clipping a black light to his harness.

Bob had Brian make fire extinguishers. He shouldered that and had them bring in supplies of spray. Hoses were rigged up to tanks nearby.

When they were ready they flooded the area with liquid CO2 to cool the animals and make them sleepy. “If this works they will go into hibernation. Or at least retreat away from the airlock. The trick is going to be to drive them away from the lock but not upward,” Bob said. He stomped on a cockroach.

The security team was justifiably nervous when they exited the lock with a pair of bots. This time they were better prepared. They still carried weapons for the bigger bugs, but they also had more lights and sprayers. Puffs of CO2 blasted ahead of them. They used black lights to light up the insects. They glowed a bluish hew under the lights making them easy to spot against the rocks. Puffs of CO2 or the boric acid made the insects scuttle about and then flop around in their death throws.

Once the area around the airlock was judged secured, they rigged a flexible duct to the surface. Fans blew cold air in from the outside. Another duct further away had fans drawing air and fumes up and out to the outside. Brian reported finding dead insects outside in the snow around the vent. “They are upside down or curled up. I'm not taking any chances though, every one of them is getting squished.”

“Good,” Mitch said as the gunny carried a curled-up armadillo back to the lock. He passed it through the lock to someone inside and then went back for more. They were clearing the animals as they moved out. So far they had found two dead shells and the skeletal remains of Chuck Atom to bury.

It was dangerous work that took days to complete, but when it was done they had the lower caverns for themselves. Mitch had them seal every nook and cranny not needed for wiring or plumbing with cement and caulk.

Miguel and Henry poured a floor and cleaned out the stalactites and stalagmites. The limestone wasn't wasted, it was passed up to the chemical works for use in the cement. They rigged a cover over the drop holes to the lower cavern. “From the look of it, the water is self-leveling. During the warm times, the water from in the rocks collects there and then exits into the river outside. But once the river freezes, the water has no place to go,” Henry said.

“Well, not all the water freezes. The top layer. Below is a different story. And here,” Miguel said, tapping his boot against the ground.

“It's self-leveling. Water always is. We'll provide for drainage of course; you'll have to spray that regularly,” Henry said to Mitch. Mitch nodded, rubbing his chin. “We'll have the cement done in a day or two,” Henry said.

Once the cement floor was finished and all the nooks and crannies had been filled, they then turned construction over to the work crews to expand the base downward. Additional lights were rigged, flooding the area with bright light. For the time being the space would be filled with additional tanks and storage. Mitch doubted anyone would want to live in the lower cavern.

------*------

Once things were under control, Bob took a step back to talk with Maggie and Doctor Mallard. He sat by the fireplace with them, talking about the animals. “In winter, I theorize animals like frogs, crocs, and some others hibernate in caves and pockets instead of migrating. Some aliens too no doubt. I bet that's how the insects breed. Otherwise they feed on smaller insects,” Bob mused.

“But the warm temps in the caverns above have changed that,” Ducky said. “Trust us humans to muck things up as usual,” he said with a bit of a smile.

“Did you see the centipede?” Bob asked, still a bit stunned by them. They'd found a few smaller ones but only the one big one. Fortunately it had curled up from the freezing cold. The gunny had blasted it into gore from a good distance away with a sniper rifle just to be sure.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” Ducky said. He got to his feet with a groan, rubbing the small of his back. “Besides, if my ears aren't deceiving me the kiddies are amuck,” he said.

“The kids are bouncing back,” Maggie said.

“Kids are resilient,” Ducky said, nodding as they followed him out. He led them to his lab where he had a collection of animals in jars on display. Bob peered about with some interest. Maggie had seen it all. She frowned though when her boyfriend pulled a covered tray from the small refrigerator he'd had Henry rig up for him. He set it down on a table and then pulled the cover off.

“That's the centipede,” Bob said, nodding.

“Indeed it is. Not a perfect specimen, but it suits,” Ducky said. He poked at a centipede someone had cut in half. “I was wondering about the insects, precisely what makes them tick. I don't suppose you wouldn't mind lending me a hand? I am so curious about how they got so big!” he said.

“Okay, I admit, that does have me curious,” Bob said.

Maggie nodded in agreement. “And how to better kill them,” Maggie said.

“Indeed my dear, let's see what we shall discover,” Ducky said, picking up a scalpel. As they worked on the necropsy Ducky theorized they were from Precambrian earth, but they needed a much higher oxygen level to survive. “Oh my,” Ducky said. “You are an odd fellow,” Ducky said, looking down at the supine invertebrate.

“What?”

Ducky pulled out a pair of organs and put them in a tray Bob had set up nearby. “If I'm right, I think...yes indeed,” Ducky mused. “I think we just found our answer. These insects have lungs.”

“So not from Earth?” Bob asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Or something altered them to survive here,” Ducky hypothesized, poking at the organs. “Quite fascinating,” he murmured.

“The aliens? The ones that brought us here I mean?” Maggie asked, now wondering about it herself.

“I don't know. Somehow, I wouldn't put it past them,” Ducky said absently. “Can you pass me the forceps my dear?” he asked. She took a pair of long forceps from the tray and handed it to him.

“But why?” Bob asked. “I mean, why do that?”

“When we get the chance, ask them,” the vet said. She shook her head then wiped sweat from her brow. “I've got to get back to work. Doc needs a break; she's been on her feet for hours again.”

“You're a vet, what...” Bob stopped. She looked at him. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It's okay. It's all hands on deck right now; everyone is doing anything they can to help.” She turned to the scientist. “Ducky, we'll need you in the infirmary too. We can't do much but we can help even if it's by wiping brows and playing gopher to fetch stuff,” she said.

“I'll just get cleaned up and join you in a minute my dear,” Ducky said, bobbing a nod. “You know, the living isn't really my cup of tea, but I suppose any help now...” he said. She nodded in amusement as she gave him a peck on the cheek and then left.