Touched by an Alien (41 page)

“Me, not you,” Martini snapped.

“Ha. You, as has been proved, can catch me. I know I can’t catch you. Plus, I had the most sadistic track coaches in the history of the sport. I can climb a rope.”

“So can I.” He sounded a tad defensive.

“Good to know. We can play Tarzan and Jane later, then.”

“Have I mentioned lately that you’re the perfect woman?”

“Not often enough these past few hours.” The jet was above us, and it was hard to hear. Wet sand and fugly parts were starting to flip around. “See if you can spot number three,” I shouted to them as I put my iPod and the aerosol back into my purse. I pulled out another clip and put it into the back pocket of my jeans. I considered putting the safety on, but I realized I couldn’t get it off without two hands, so foolhardy was going to continue to be the watchword of the day. I stuck the Glock into the front of my pants and prayed it wouldn’t slip out or go off.

Martini lifted me; I grabbed the end of the cable and moved up until I could hold on with my legs and feet as well. I could see Reader talking into his walkie, and then we flew off.

It was an interesting view. The parts were spread what I guessed was at least a mile in radius, maybe more. Added to this were the carcasses of Earwig and the remains of the Slug, looking gray and greasy. It was easily the most repulsive sight I’d ever seen. And even high up the place stank beyond belief.

My jet moved next to the one Claudia was in, and they sheared off. We were hovering, and I had to look closely. Finally I spotted it, moving like a big, fat worm. It was trying to get away. I would have felt pity, but there were lots of mammals in the desert, and the idea of some poor coyote getting turned into something like the Killer seemed like the height of cruelty to animals. In the fight between their world and mine, I was always going to pick mine.

I aimed the Glock and fired. I missed, but I did hit the ground right in front of the parasite. It stopped moving and turned around. It didn’t have eyes, but I could feel it looking at me. I fired again, but I wasn’t hitting it.

Someone must have told Lorraine I was having trouble, because the jet started to lower slowly. I had no idea how long the pilot could keep us hovering like this, but I had to guess not too long. I emptied the clip and managed to hit the parasite once. Not enough.

I dropped the clip out and watched as it fell right onto the parasite. The clip was engulfed and didn’t show up again. I got the feeling this parasite was doing whatever its kind did when they wanted to indicate that their opponent was being invited to “bring it.”

Now for the really tricky part. I shoved the Glock back into my pants and reached back for the clip. No matter how much I wanted to do it otherwise, I was going to have to use two hands to put the new clip in.

I considered my options. My legs were well wrapped around the cable. Way back when, I used to practice hanging upside down from the rope. Never when the coach was around, of course. But several of my boyfriends had thought it was the coolest thing in the world. Of course, I was pretty limber in school, and this particular skill hadn’t been used for longer than I wanted to ponder. However, it would allow me to load the gun and possibly get a better shot at the same time.

I slid my purse over and down, so it was around my body, hooked just above my knees. Then I took the Glock out of my pants, effectively letting go of the cable, and leaned backward. I couldn’t get my head to my heels any more, but it was close enough. I loaded the clip into the gun—it was weird but not impossible.

I had to focus to find the parasite. It had moved right under me. I had fifteen shots, it had a lot of malevolence. Evenly matched.

The jet wasn’t steady, but I was getting used to the movement. I forced myself to relax, even though it looked as though the parasite was getting ready to leap. Why I thought that I couldn’t say, but the feeling was strong, and I didn’t argue with it.

I aimed and started firing. I hit it several times. It needed more shots than the one in Earwig had. I emptied the clip, and the thing was torn up but still alive. I shoved the Glock back into my pants and tucked my shirt in to keep it from moving. Then I felt around in my purse for the half-full aerosol can.

I pulled it out and started spraying. Nothing, too far away. I considered my options as I went back to upright. My stomach muscles complained, and I got a head-rush, but I got back up without slipping. Oh, well, nothing for it.

Holding on tightly to the cable, I shifted my legs and let my purse drop. Direct hit! The parasite splatted and burst apart as if it were a water balloon. Now my choice was to drop down or hang on. Conveniently, my arms shared that they were tired by having my hands release without my brain’s consent.

I went down, but just as before, I didn’t hit the ground. “I hate it when you do that,” Martini said as his arms wrapped around me.

“I’ll keep it in mind. Should you be standing on this stuff?”

“Probably not.” He shifted me to one arm, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He pulled my torso toward him and kissed me. “God, I love it when you do that.”

“Focus. Spray the parts.” I did my best not to grind against his hip, but escaping death was something of a turn-on.

He grinned but did what he’d been told to do. He sprayed my purse, too, then handed it to me and sprayed the bottom. “Guess that thing’s wrecked.”

“Hardly. It’s cheap leather remember? It survives everything.”

“Okay, all the parts are gone.”

I looked down. “Jeff? Your shoes are starting to smoke.”

He moved, and we were back to hyperspeed. He stopped the moment we were away from the Killer’s remains. He let me down and then dropped to his knees. “I don’t feel so good.”

I grabbed an aerosol and sprayed the bottoms of his shoes. They stopped smoking. “It didn’t get through the soles. I think you’re okay.” He was leaning, his hands on his thighs, head down, panting. “Jeff? Are you okay?”

“Overstrained.”

“I’m not that heavy.”

“No, you’re not. I’ve just pushed it well past my normal limits today.”

My walkie crackled again. “Kitty, James found the last parasite,” Claudia informed me. “It was dead, but he sprayed it until it dissolved.”

I dug the walkie out. Nothing inside was wet or even damp. I loved my purse. “Does that mean we can get out of here?”

“On our way to pick you up,” Christopher replied. “Just stay where you are.”

“No worries there,” Martini said. I stroked his head, and he leaned into my stomach. “Ouch. Can you put your gun away?”

I tossed it into my purse and leaned his head back against me. He wrapped his arms around my waist. I rubbed the back of his neck. “He said it wasn’t over.”

“I know. But it’s over for right now, and you learn to take the break when you get it.” He moved my shirt up and kissed my stomach.

“Jeff, they’ll be here in a second.” Not that I actually wanted him to stop, but I didn’t think this was the place to get intimate.

“Mmmm, right.” He ran his tongue around my navel and then slid my shirt back down. “Fine, I’ll behave.”

“Nah,” I said as I moved his head and bent down to kiss him. “I like you just like you are.”

The SUV pulled up next to us a few minutes later, and Christopher and Reader got out. “Jeff, is this really the right place?” Christopher sounded exasperated.

“He’s exhausted.”

“What she said,” Martini added, head back to resting against my stomach.

Reader grinned, and Christopher rolled his eyes. They got on either side of Martini and hauled him into the front seat of the SUV. I crawled into the back, and they got in on either side of me. We started off. “What about the rest of the supplies?”

“Already moved them to our vehicle,” Tim told me. “Took care of it while you were auditioning for Cirque de Soleil.”

“She got my vote,” Martini said, head leaned back. He sounded as though he was going to collapse.

Christopher spoke into his walkie. “We need medical ready for Jeff as soon as we get back. Standard procedures.”

“Already waiting,” Gower replied. “How’s everybody else?” I could hear the fear lurking in his voice.

“No one bothered to let him know James was okay?”

“Been a bit busy,” Christopher snapped.

Reader laughed. “I already talked to him.” He spoke into his walkie. “Everyone’s fine, Paul. I don’t want to go into a sauna for a long time, though.”

“Where are the girls?”

“They’re being taken back to Home Base. All the jets are going with them.” Christopher spoke into the walkie again. “We need massive cleanup out here. It’s unreal. Parts of it are definitely toxic.”

“Roger that, Commander,” a voice I didn’t recognize replied. “We have our top disposal teams en route. They’ll be there before sunset, so plenty of time to set up. We’ll get it cleared overnight.”

“Good luck with that.” Christopher shook his head. “If they can get it done before morning, it’ll be a miracle.”

“Does it matter if they don’t?”

“Only if Mephistopheles comes back,” he replied tersely.

I thought about it. “He won’t. He’s scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of Kitty,” Reader answered. “He ran away when she charged him.”

“He’s a superbeing, but he’s not stupid.” Martini sounded as though he was going to pass out.

“What’s wrong with Jeff?” I tried to keep my voice calm, but I couldn’t.

“He’ll be fine,” Christopher said only somewhat reassuringly. “He gets like this if he’s gone too long without regeneration.”

“How often does that happen?”

“Oh, once a month, month and a half,” Martini said. “Old hat.” I didn’t believe him, mostly because Christopher’s eyes were saying that they were both lying. I tried not to think about what Reader had told me in the limo, but it was hard not to—Martini was burned out, and that meant his condition was going to deteriorate fast.

We reached the gate, or at least where I thought the gate was. I couldn’t see anything that looked like a doorway, but there was a shimmering in front of us, and it looked doorlike.

Tim stopped the car, hit the intercom and spoke. “You ready for us?”

“Need a couple more minutes; you’ve got something funny on the car.” Gower sounded confused. Tim put the car into park.

I’d grown up hearing about guerilla fighting. I hadn’t realized my parents had been speaking from experience, but they’d sure trained me for what to look for. “Everybody out of the car,
now
!” I shoved past Reader, opened his door and pushed him out. He’d been on the passenger side, and I scrambled after him. The other three were staring at me. I reached in, grabbed Christopher, and pulled with all my might. He flew out. Reader was pulling Martini out. “Tim, move your ass!”

“Christopher, help me,
now
!” Reader had one of Martini’s arms over his shoulders, but he couldn’t move. Christopher stopped arguing and grabbed Martini’s other arm. They ran for the gate.

Tim was getting out but too slowly. I ran around and grabbed him, dragging him toward the gate. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, sounding a lot like Christopher.

“Yates is a terrorist, you moron!” Tim blanched, grabbed my hand, and we started to run as fast as we could. The others were in front of us, but too far from the gate. “We hit them and use the momentum.”

“You got it, boss.” Tim let go of my hand, and we barreled toward the others. We hit at the same time, and the three of them went flying through the gate. I broke the cardinal rule and looked behind me. The car exploded, and parts were flying straight toward me. Just before a section of the engine hit my face, someone grabbed my purse and pulled.

I TUMBLED ONTO THE FLOOR
, onto a heap of men. Tim’s hand was connected to my purse, but I disentangled it. Under most circumstances, I wouldn’t have minded being on top of the hunky mountain in the least. But I could tell Martini was on the bottom of the dog pile.

I scrambled to my feet, relieved I still had feet, let alone the rest of me. There were people all around us, most of them helping the menfolk up. There was a gurney, and Martini was loaded onto it. I got shoved away from him by a press of official-looking people I’d never laid eyes on before. Some were in suits, but not Armani suits, some were in uniform, and all of them looked deadly serious.

Reader was flung onto a gurney as well, despite his protests. I saw more gurneys coming and decided escape was the better part of valor. I wanted to be with Martini, but not if that meant being hooked up to an IV or sitting in some medical tube having brain X-rays taken.

I backed away right into two sets of ham-hands. “This one, too?” some man I’d never heard before asked.

“Let me go!” I started to kick. Which got me picked up by the waist. Martini did this a lot better.