Touched by an Alien (40 page)

My mother had always told me that in a panic situation, the person who can stay calm and be prepared was the one most likely to live and help others live. I put my earphones on and tuned my iPod to the song I wanted to hear. In this case, I wasn’t going with the tried and true—I was going with what I considered the best hard rock song ever made.

Martini was leaning forward, barking orders into the intercom, so he wasn’t paying any attention to me. I slipped out of the car and started running toward the mass of exploded and melted superbeing parts, Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” revving in my ears.

I had an aerosol in each hand, but it wasn’t too much of a problem. It might be hot, but I’d run track in high school and college in Pueblo Caliente—running in the midafternoon in the middle of a huge desert with the sun burning down wasn’t hot to me, it was normal. Sprinters had to run distance to build endurance, and my sadistic high school coach had made sure we learned to hold batons in either hand for relay training. My purse was an unhelpful addition, but I was more used to having it on than not.

There were fugly parts all over, and the ground was muddy. No worries. I’d had to run in the monsoon season, and I was a hurdler. I was one of those rarities with a perfect four-step, so I’d had to learn to hurdle with either leg leading.

I felt the ground pound and figured Mephistopheles was behind me. I didn’t turn around. Runners who turn around lose their race. “Enter Sandman” was a great song to run to—excellent beat, lyrics discussing the scary thing trying to kill you. I hadn’t realized it was based on real life before, but you learned something new every day.

The ground was slippery and gross, and the smell was unreal. I’d thought Earwig was bad, but this was worse, all decayed body and boiled meat. I wondered if this was what haggis smelled like and vowed never to find out.

The pounding was getting closer, but I was almost to the Humvee. It wasn’t shimmering, and if the tires weren’t melted, they were stuck in the sandy mud.

I might never cook willingly, but I knew how. Experience told me metal that had had tons of boiling hot water poured onto it would be boiling hot. I skidded up to the driver’s door and sprayed the handle with the trusty Ever-Hold. I used the whole can, focusing on the door handle but also the lock.

I threw the can behind me and wrenched the door open. Reader fell out. I managed to get under him and keep him in the seat and off the ground. He was unconscious but breathing. I sprayed another can in his face.

“Ugh!” His eyes flickered and opened. “What the hell are you doing?”

The ground shook. “Trying to save the only person I can relate to.”

He managed a weak grin. “I’m not joking—if I were straight, we’d just run off, get married, and forget we ever knew Alpha Centauri had populated planets.”

“Stop making me long for the impossible. Can you move? The big fugly’s coming, and we’re targets numbers one and two.”

He nodded, and I helped him out of the car and put his arm around my shoulders, keeping him on the side opposite my purse. “Here, take a weapon.” I shoved an aerosol into his free hand.

“Oh, God.”

I looked where Reader was staring. Sure enough, there was my favorite fugly, standing in front of us.

“Hey, Clifford the Big Red Monster! Get out of my way.”

Mephistopheles leaned down, and his eyes changed. “You don’t fear me. Why?”

Good question. I had no idea. “Because you’re stupid?” I sprayed his face.

Reader reacted at the same time and also got Mephistopheles full in the kisser, to use that term loosely when applied in this case.

“Gaaaahhhh!” Mephistopheles staggered backward, clawing at his face.

“Time to move.” I dragged Reader in the opposite direction.

“If we don’t find and destroy the parasites, all this was for nothing.”

I hated it, but he was right. “Okay, eyes peeled, spray cans at the ready.” I tried not to think about how fast Mephistopheles was going to recover. I couldn’t move quickly with Reader hanging on me, and it was clear he couldn’t move without me.

Jets flew over our heads, bullets spraying. They ricocheted off Mephistopheles. “I think I can move faster,” Reader said.

“Good, let’s try trotting.” We moved a little better, but there was a lot of Fugly Stew on the ground.

My walkie crackled. “Kitty, go to your right about fifty feet. The first parasite’s been spotted there.” Lorraine sounded tense. “It’s still moving, so be ready. It’ll try to connect with you or James.”

“Oh, good.” We moved the way Lorraine told us. Mephistopheles was being driven away from us by the jets. “I’m kind of glad they stuck around.”

“Yeah. Pilots are short, you know.”

“You sound jealous. I’m touched, and wondering if you’re feeling okay.”

Reader managed a laugh. “Just protecting Jeff’s interests.” He leaned his head against mine. “You two okay?”

“I think so. Hard to be positive, but he seems like himself again.”

“Good.” Reader stopped. “Look, do you see something moving?”

I stared where he was pointing. There was a curved carcass section in front of us forming what looked like a dead meat tent. I could see something shimmer in it, just for a moment. “Yeah, I think we have a target.” I unhooked Reader from my shoulders. “You stay here. You’re okay to stand?”

“Yeah.” He reached into my purse and grabbed another aerosol. “I like to shoot two-handed.”

“Me, too.” I switched my music back to Aerosmith, “Toys in the Attic” album, and followed his example. “Okay, stay alert.” Ahhh, nothing like my boys in my ears to make it all seem better.

I edged forward. I knew I didn’t want to get too close, because these things could move. So I approached it as I would a snake—really slowly with my weapon held far out in front of me, ready to leap away and run at a moment’s notice.

I reached aerosol range and started spraying as I moved forward about an inch at a time. I was at what now looked like a cave entrance, and I had the unenviable choice of dropping to my hands and knees to take a look inside or tossing the carcass part over. I wanted to do neither.

The ground shook, and I risked a look over my shoulder. Mephistopheles was heading for us, batting jets away. I decided touching the carcass was the lesser of two evils, and fear gave me that extra shot of adrenaline. I flipped it. It felt exactly as I imagined a boiled and burned giant rubber monster would feel. I managed to keep gagging to a minimum.

The parasite was there, still alive and moving. In fact, by the time I had the dead meat moved, it was on my foot. I didn’t scream—I was too busy spraying with both hands. It didn’t stop it, but it did release my foot.

One can was empty, and I tossed it aside as I leaped backward. I dug through my purse for the Glock. There it was, and I realized I’d never set the safety. I decided to consider this a great example of forethought rather than my being the stupidest gun handler on the planet.

Aimed, shot, scored. I was getting good with this thing. Either terror, genetics, or the combination were ensuring I could indeed hit what I wanted. I didn’t have to empty the full clip this time. The parasite broke apart after six shots, and I sprayed the rest of it until it dissolved and bubbled away.

This didn’t take too long, which was a good thing. “Ah, girlfriend? I think we’re in trouble again.”

I spun around to see Mephistopheles bat a jet out of the air as he moved toward us. The jet spun out of control and smashed into the ground about a mile away. I knew without asking that the pilot, and any passengers he might have had with him, didn’t have a chance.

I hadn’t seen any of them in person, didn’t know their names, but they were my guys. And the chance that Lorraine or Claudia was in that jet was high, and they were my friends, even though I’d only known them a day. It was stupid, but I got mad, madder than I’d ever been before. And just like at JFK, I ran right toward Mephistopheles. I didn’t shout or speak, I just ran, as if I were in the Olympics and he was the gold medal.

He saw me coming, this huge monster. I expected him to try to stomp me or catch me. But instead he spoke. “It’s not over.” And then he turned and ran.

I kept after him, but he built up speed and lifted off the ground, wings flapping. He could really book when he was flying, and he outdistanced the jets quickly. I stopped running, dropped the Glock back into my purse, ripped my headphones off, and pulled out the walkie. “I want everyone to disengage right now!”

“Yes, Miss Katt.” It was White.

“Who died?” I was shaking, but I wasn’t crying yet.

“One of the pilots. Both Lorraine and Claudia are safe; their pilots didn’t engage because the girls were with them.”

“Who was he?”

“Lieutenant William Cox,” Gower answered.

“What do we do for his family?” Silence. “What do we do? Goddamn it, what the hell do we do for them?” I was screaming now.

Someone grabbed me and pulled me to him. “Shhh, baby, shhh.” Martini shoved my face into his chest. “Everyone who works with us knows the risks. It’ll be handled.”

I pulled away from him. “How can you be so cavalier about it? He’s dead!”

Martini put his hands on my shoulders and gave me a little shake. “Look at me. No, right at me, Kitty.” He waited until our eyes were locked. “This is what we do. Every day of our lives. You want to know why we don’t want our women out here? Now you know, in the harshest way possible. Old-fashioned? Yes. But we don’t have an entire population to draw from. We lose one girl, we lose reproduction, and that heads us that much faster toward extinction. Every single one of us who works in the field knows the risks. Every one of your military personnel knows also. Maybe their families don’t, maybe their families don’t understand, but the fighting men and women who work with us do. No one comes to assist us who isn’t trained for extraterrestrial situations, and no one comes who isn’t prepared to die.”

“No one’s prepared to die. People pretend, but no one’s ready for it.”

“We’ll argue that later. Right now, you have to get yourself under control. You’re the leader, right? The leader has to keep it together, or everyone else falls apart. It sucks, but that’s how it is.”

I looked up at him. He’d been doing this his whole life, he and Christopher both. No wonder they were exhausted. “Who was he?”

Martini understood what I was asking. “He was the one you liked, the one who called you ma’am.”

I WANTED TO CRY
—my eyes were certainly filled with tears. But I didn’t let them fall. Because Cox had thought I was his superior officer, and I knew Martini was right—Cox wouldn’t have wanted his superior to break down while still engaged with the enemy. “Let’s find the last two parasites.”

Martini nodded. “That’s my girl.” He put his hand to my chin. “It’s a war, baby. You have to remember that.”

“But I don’t have to like it.”

“None of us like it.” He gave me a small smile. “If we enjoyed it, we’d be like what we’re fighting against.”

I nodded. “Let’s go.”

I had two aerosols left, and I gave one to Martini and took the other for myself. I also got the Glock out again. We headed back toward Reader, both looking for anything that might be a parasite or parasite parts. But we didn’t spot a thing.

Reader hugged me when we got back to him. “We’ll talk about it when we get back, okay?” he said quietly.

“Sure.” I leaned my head on his shoulder. It was a comfortable place to be.

Martini cleared his throat. “Still more than a little jealous over here.”

Reader chuckled as I moved away from him. “You should be, Jeff. If I ever go straight or bi, I’m stealing her away from you.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Martini pulled me next to him. “That’s better.”

I forced myself to focus. “How are we going to find the other two parasites?”

My walkie crackled again. Claudia’s voice came on. At least, I was pretty sure it was her voice, filtered through tears. “We’ve found the next one. It’s about half a mile from where you are, to your right. We’re hovering over it.”

More than anything else, this snapped me back. Cox flew with these guys, and they were still doing their jobs. So I had to do mine. “Thanks, Claudia. Talk us to it if we get off track.”

“Will do.”

The three of us headed toward the jet. “Are we heading toward the Killer’s area?”

“Yeah, girlfriend, we are. Jeff, you sure you should be walking around here?”

“Well, I could let the two of you face it alone, but since I’m not an armchair commander, I think I’ll come along.”

“Can whatever the Killer sprayed out get to us through our shoes?” I didn’t like the sound of this.

“We don’t know,” Martini answered.

I stopped walking. “Hang on.” I pulled out the walkie. “Lorraine, I need a lift.”

Someone sniffled. “Okay. We’ll be right there.” Well, all three of us were getting trained in what this was like. I wondered if we’d ever be the same again, and I knew the answer.