A few yards down, I caught sight of Tyrone entering a public restroom.
Whether by luck or divine appointment, a vent projected directly above the toilet stall he chose to use, allowing me a view of his back and rounded shoulders.
His pants dropped around his ankles.
I realized this could be the only chance I had to talk to the man alone. "Do you really believe all that stuff about Ssorzechola?"
Tyrone looked startled, glancing around with unease. "Are you a messenger of the Lord sent to test me?"
I could have said yes, but that would have been counterproductive. "Merely an interested party. Listen. Did you choose to follow Noah voluntarily?"
A wonder his bowels didn't empty in my presence, out of fear. It would have been a convenient place for it. "Of course! He is a prophet sent by God!"
"What of the faith you had before Noah arrived?"
Sweat trickled down the back of his lumpy head, dripped down his fatty neck. In my mind, I made comparisons to brisket. "Nothing has changed. Noah and I have similar beliefs. We both believe in Jehovah, we both believe in a holy kingdom to be established on this planet. Neither of us believe in hell, the sinner is annihilated on the last day. Ssorzechola is just another word to describe God. I believe in what he says, because his arrival correlates with the answers to several requests I have been praying in the Spirit. For example, I asked the Lord for a strong leader of faith to unite the people of this base, and every time I said this prayer, I kept seeing the letter N, or aquatic imagery, such as boats and water. I didn't know it at the time, but it was really the great God Jehovah telling me the name of His chosen prophet."
Mr. Rockett told me a similar `vision' led him to join the space colony in the first place. He claimed the meeting with Noah was a sign of still being on the right track.
So...the man was not possessed, he just had a soft, pliable brain. A genuine but misguided faith. "Word to the wise. The real God loves. Ssorzechola only loves to eat, and lay eggs."
Sadly, the man seemed too dense to let anything sink in. "Begone, Satan! Touch not God's anointed prophet!"
Shaking my head, I crawled back through the aluminum tunnel, scanning the various openings for anything else unusual.
The crowd had dispersed in a rather orderly fashion, one half muttering about how insane had gotten, returning to wherever they came from, the others, cult members and interested parties, stepping out, single file, following Sunny down a half octagonal corridor.
Kumar's wife, her baby, and Calvin waded among them, but stayed back, keeping close to the wall as they watched the line of people passing by.
"What happens when the Charlie Hall estate finds out you've been stealing his songs?" Portia asked the guy in the angel shirt.
The man shrugged. "I don't steal, I appropriate. Besides. What's he going to do? Take a rocket up here and sue me? Plus he was a false prophet. Ssorzechola will reward me for changing songs full of falsehood into hymns of truth for her glory."
The two walked away, so I didn't catch the rest of the conversation. I turned my attention to the Indian woman.
Applying saliva to the bolts on the register, I used a hole I made in the center as a handle, to avoid excessive noise.
When I removed the cover, I hissed to the woman, then, when she didn't respond, I tapped the metal and waved.
Aphita looked up and gasped. I put a claw to my mouth, urging her to be silent.
Slowly, I pointed to the smoke filled room everyone escaped from.
She balked, looking horrified.
I shook my head no, urged her more strongly in that direction, showing her the peace sign and the ok sign.
The woman frowned, but complied. I hurried to the other room.
After pushing past a few people, Aphita, looking scared and confused, stood below me, clutching her baby with one hand, and Calvin's arm with the other.
Earlier, during my clumsy spying expedition, I'd stumbled upon a video chat feature on the camera by accident, nearly giving away my location.
At the moment, though, this little program worked in my favor, as I could not afford a face to face meeting. I held up the camera, pantomiming making a call.
Aphita didn't understand.
Shaking my head in frustration, I pantomimed typing a phone number, then giving an `I don't know' gesture.
Her eyes widened in comprehension. She indicated the number with hand signs.
It took a couple tries, but she eventually got a chirp in her pocket, pulled out her phone.
I smiled a little when I saw her face appear on the screen.
She did not look amused. "What have you done to my husband?"
"Whatever this is, it's not my doing. My aunt Ssorzechola is very sick, and she has brainwashed everybody."
It is a very novel thing to see a Ss'sik'chtokiwij using a phone. Calvin laughed and pointed at me. I gave him a little wave.
To Aphita, I said, "Has your husband been behaving strangely?"
She nodded. "Didn't you hear the speech? It was full of blasphemy."
I had seen Kumar in the crowd, but I guess he'd said a bunch of things about Jesus being a false prophet, throwing a well loved bible with dog eared heavily marked and underlined pages into the fire. She said he'd never do that, that he'd just as soon die than betray the faith.
I told her about Adam and Noah and the worms. This made her even more afraid.
"I know of a secret hiding place. I'm hiding children there, to keep them out of harm's way. I could take Calvin there."
She paled in horror. "How do you know his name!"
"What? I..." I forgot that I hadn't actually introduced myself to any of Kumar's friends, and shouldn't know that information.
Before I could attempt to defend myself, she said, "It's true. You are an angel."
"No, no!" I cried, raising a claw in protest. "I've just been spying on you. Rebecca...Newt is my friend, and was making sure she was safe."
Aphita frowned. "I liked it better when I thought you were an angel."
"Sorry. I'm trying to help. I've found a safe place for the young to hide. Newt and her brother are already there. Perhaps you can bring your children there as well."
She didn't answer. She just stared.
It was then that I realized how bad my offer must have sounded, especially coming from a monster hiding in a dark dusty vent. "The children are very much alive. They will not be harmed. They are in a secret place where Noah and bad Ss'sik'chtokiwij cannot find them."
The woman looked nervous. "I'm sorry. Thank you, but I cannot."
"But I do not wish to harm you or the children. I only want to take them where they are safe. Your lives are in danger."
"I appreciate your offer, but I cannot."
"Why? Don't you trust me?"
She smiled a little. "It is not that I do not trust you. I am concerned about them being so young. Calvin cannot go to the bathroom on his own, and young Deepali has not yet been weaned."
I rubbed my face plate in frustration. "Then you need to find a safe place to hide, along with the children."
Aphita frowned. "I cannot return to my home, not with that thing living there."
"I'm not saying you should. I'm saying you should hide. There are safe places on this base. Places Ss'sik'chtokiwij won't think to look."
She gave me a grim nod. "What do you suggest?"
The south end of the base had been abandoned, due to fears about the `gas leak', or its victims returning from the grave. A few families had moved back in, but with the atmosphere processor and new outdoor greenhouse, they didn't need the hydroponics station and the geothermal plant. Plus its population had decreased, a few of the stragglers leaving with Noah.
Another good hiding places: The geothermal plant, especially where Mother had once laid her eggs, would be the last place a Ss'sik'chtokiwij would look. That, and Mr. Pittman's dwelling, with its secret tunnel in the floor.
Also the DAMBALLAH place, though even if she could figure out how to get in, she'd encounter a lot of dead children and gory messes. Still, I have heard war stories about soldiers using a corpse as camouflage.
Aphita preferred the quarters of that Weyland executive I briefly visited. Although containing expired food, lots of dust, and the floor still showed scarring from my vomit, it had a bathroom and a shower. Her biggest complaint: The posters of swimsuit models, which she promptly removed from the walls.
As a grown woman, I trusted Aphita to know enough to keep the children safe and cared for. Once I told her about the other emergency hiding places I just mentioned, I decided she could figure things out on her own, as long as she kept away from Noah's people.
I had two situations to deal with, and I was only one Ss'sik'chtokiwij. I could either follow the human sheep to Unit 220 or return to the processing station to see what atrocity Ssorzechola created there.
Since Noah had just outlined all the plans for his power plant scheme during his little coaching session, I opted for `The Upper Room.'
Unit 220 stood five units down from Noah's original house church.
Someone had been remodeling while I had been occupied with other matters:
Set up like a temple, a prototype for the `tabernacle', it seemed.
A giant box constructed of opaque plastic tarps and corrugated metal supported by pillars of scrap metal and wood, which in turn led to a smaller box of similar construction. Strange symbols painted on the partitions and surrounding walls, which appeared to be created from a Ss'sik'chtokiwij sticking their claw in paint and slapping it on the object, embellished in places with pentagrams, yin-yang symbols, or something from the I-Ching.
Candles, Christmas light bulbs, and a pair of strategically placed flood lamps illuminated the room. The bony older woman with the glasses and the big bearded man, clad in what appeared to be graduation robes guarded the front end of the structure.
The last of the crowd had entered the room, staring at their surroundings with puzzlement, many with skepticism.
The musicians played songs as Noah processed in, standing before the tarp `curtains': "The Lord Ssorzechola is mighty. She searches the hearts of men, weighing them for their worthiness. Only those of a perfect faith can look upon Ssorzechola and live. I have seen her, and so has Kumar and my wife Sunny. To those of weaker faith, however, I advise not to go beyond the second curtain. Content yourself with the sight of her presence, for your imperfect heart is an abomination to Ssorzechola. I warn you thus for your safety. You will not be warned again."
He turned to face the curtain. "Oh Lord Ssorzechola! These lowly humans seek audience with you, O Great Creator! Please spare them their lives!"
Also in English, Ssorzechola answered, "You may enter, but do not allow any to enter the inner sanctum. I am Ssorzechola."
The strange loud voice provoked gasps and mutters. Those not as easily convinced laughed and poked fun.
Sunny and Noah pulled back a pair of tarps, and half the crowd flooded the outermost portion of the `tent.'
I crawled to another register to get a better look.
The `holy of holies' had been set up as a ceiling to floor barrier. Even from the vent near the roof. I could only see what transpired around the exterior.
Still, I could see enough.
A short brown fat man with a mop of messy black hair marched up to the inner tent, growling, "You're all a bunch of sheep! This cult of yours is a fraud! A hundred dollars says that this god of yours, your so-called Ssorzechola Jehovah, doesn't exist, and the only thing you got back there is a man with a fancy sound system." He crossed his wide arms across his black shirt, grinding his teeth.
Noah gave him a nasty smile, gesturing to the inner tent. "It is more blessed to believe without seeing, but be my guest."
The skeptic pulled back a tarp on the side.
The second he did so, winced and clutched his neck, collapsing on the floor.
Ssorzechola's tail emerged from behind the curtain, and, in one deft movement, impaled the man and picked him up like one would use a toothpick to retrieve a little block of cheese.
The man's blood poured onto the floor, but someone had thoughtfully laid down plastic tarps to catch the mess.
The victim disappeared within the tent, and was never seen since.
"Who else dares challenge the omnipotent power of Ssorzechola?" my aunt roared.
People screamed, backing away, many fleeing to the outer room.
Noah chuckled. "Someone owes me one hundred dollars."
Only his deluded followers shared in the mirth.
"This man has angered our Lord and has suffered the consequences. If you are faithful, you will be satisfied by being this close to the Almighty's presence without experiencing death. You are perfectly safe. Not to worry. But only the priesthood, such as myself, Kumar and Sunny, can enter the holy sanctuary."
Portia stepped forward. "I wish to see Ssorzechola face to face," she announced.
Noah chuckled. "Great is your faith, little one, but you enter at your own peril."
She nodded. "I understand the risk, but it's something I must do. If the Lord Ssorzechola takes my life, I will be content, for I will have at least seen my Lord, my God, face to face."
"Then go, dear child. Your faith is great. I pray that Ssorzechola spares you."
The woman boldly stepped inside the curtain without a moment's hesitation.
She screamed and did not come back out again.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
A narrow faced man with glasses and wavy hair strolled up to the inner tent, applauding in a sarcastic fashion. A nicely dressed stranger, designer polo, clean pressed slacks, tidy shoes. "Bravo! Bravo. What will you do for an encore? Saw a woman in half? Or better yet, you'll disappear!" He waggled his fingers like a wizard.
Noah stared at him. "I'm sorry?"
"It's the old Indian rope trick. Minus the rope. According to tradition, the faithful assistant, once he reaches the top of the allegedly charmed rope, lets out a bloodcurdling scream, as if dying, as he throws down dummy limbs, dripping with chicken blood. I admit we've come a long way from that, technologically speaking. The dummy you used for the first victim was amazingly lifelike. How did you rig up that harness, by the way?"
"If you do not believe it is real. Then you may also look behind the curtain."
The nicely dressed skeptic laughed. "That I will do, but not the way you want."
He waved people over to the opposite side of Ssorzechola's tent. "Over here! Quickly, before they can change the act!"
Several people did, and once he had sufficient audience, he grabbed the edge of the tarp, throwing it open for all to see.
There stood my aunt.
A chorus of screams as, one by one, people fell to the floor unconscious, including the well dressed man.
Ssorzechola's tail snapped the bodies off the floor at random, like they were hors d'oeuvres on a party tray.
The crowd retreated in fright, backing into a corner of the room, some fleeing out into the hallway. Noah sent his big bearded bodyguard out after them.
Although fleeing had been the right idea, they had not thought of it fast enough. More screams from that corner as well. Ss'sik'chtokiwij had been hanging around to snap up Ssorzechola's leftovers.
Noah's bearded thug in coveralls pinned an escaping man's arms behind his back, presenting him as an offering to the next available Ss'sik'chtokiwij.
On the other side of the door, Noah's bird nosed male friend held a larger freckle faced man at gunpoint, calling him a child of Satan, yelling for him to not fight against God's righteous judgment.
Although fairly well muscled, the red haired hostage lacked the skill to knock the gun away without having it go off in his brain. His already pale skin got paler.
Meanwhile, the woman with the glasses and puff sleeve top took turns aiming at Freckle Face and any random colonist who attempted to flee out the door.
The mousy little woman shot someone. The victim staggered back into the room.
Sweat dampened Freckles' rumpled slacks and blue button shirt as he stared at the gun barrel.
I could no longer remain a mere spectator. I hurried through the duct system, knocking open a register in a nearby room.
Not surprising to find it abandoned. The hole in the ceiling told me everything I needed to know.
As I climbed down the wall, Aquila came scampering behind me.
"What are you doing?"
She shrugged. "Following you."
"Don't. You won't stand a chance against these Ss'sik'chtokiwij."
"Maria sent me to help you. If that means fighting, I shall die fighting by your side."
I gazed at her with sadness. "Such a thing does not please me. If you really wish to help, tell Maria what is happening here, then go protect the human woman Aphita and her children. Tell Maria they were in the place with the beach pictures and the pancakes. She'll know how to get there."
"That already sounds familiar. Perhaps I already know where that is from Maria's memories."
"Then go with my blessing."
"What about you?"
"I will try to be careful...Oh, and I am in immediate need of a weapon. A room exists in Grandmother's house, which contains racks of strange looking devices. Have Pain or someone else bring one to me. Any device you can find. And hurry."
Aquila nodded, scurrying back up the wall.
The room I entered didn't offer much of apparent usefulness. I `rifled' through dressers, closets, storage containers, but found no actual rifle or gun of any kind.
The previous tenant had been an electronics enthusiast. All around lay his collection of radio and computer parts. He also possessed a number of gag novelty items, including a joy buzzer, a can of peanut brittle that shot springloaded snakes in my face when I ripped off the lid, and a rubber chicken.
A stone had been chiseled with this legend: `WES ROCKS.' The owner's name, perhaps? The object had been used to hold down a paper describing a mining colony called `Jagalchi.'
The room's occupant had been the proud owner of a heavy, very arcane looking computer, an equally ancient and heavy looking shortwave radio, and a Lexmark printer that somehow made printed materials out of dirt.
As for the last item, I did not know how well the device fulfilled its intended function, for someone had very carefully crafted a hangman's noose out of its power cable and literally hung it like a criminal, after carving the words `Piece of shit' on the hood, the knife that had caused this particular act of technical butchery strangely absent.
While that little informal product review spoke volumes about the owner's maturity level, it did provide me with an insight twice as enlightening as Mr. Rockett's prayer about the letter N.
During my stay in the lab, I watched a program about aboriginal people hunting animals with something called a `bolo.'
Just a leather strap with a rock in it. King David used a similar tool to fell Goliath.
I didn't have a leather strap, but I did have the electronics enthusiast's bedspread, and the hangman.
I pulled the noose off the printer, folding the sheets around it like a diaper. I guess I could have just used the noose as a sling, but the rubber chicken's neck gave me a secondary idea.
A man's sudden scream forced me to implement these ideas sooner than expected.
In the hall, an Italian man in a t-shirt and jeans struggled against Noah's Ss'sik'chtokiwij door guardian.
Thinking quickly, I hung the chicken with the power cord and whipped the wall with it a few times.
The ruse worked. The adolescent Ss'sik'chtokiwij turned to look in my direction. Bird Beak Man, still struggling to keep his victim from escaping, yelled for her not to investigate, but our race is a curious lot.
"Help!" I yelled in a false human voice, slapping the wall again.
The Ss'sik'chtokiwij came closer.
I tossed the chicken out on the floor, jiggling it like bait on a hook.
Bird Beak Guy kept shouting, but he got ignored. A gun went off, but I couldn't tell what happened.
When my quarry neared the rubber toy, I reeled it in, drawing her through the threshold.
I swung the printer once, twice, let it fly right into her head.
The device cracked, shattered and fell out of the sheet, the Ss'sik'chtokiwij collapsing on the floor unconscious.
I stared at the body in disbelief. I had no idea a trick like that would actually work.
I hadn't planned this far ahead. For a moment, I didn't even move.
At last, hoping for a successful repeat performance, I fixed my bedsheet bolo, dashing out the door with it in claw.
The man in the blue shirt lay dead. I guess he tried to knock the gun out of Bird Beak's hands.
Before I could approach the second Ss'sik'chtokiwij, the mousy woman turned her gun on me.
I swung my bolo and flung it at her, hoping she wouldn't die.
Underwhelming results. When it came flying at her, she fired a shot and ducked. Neither I nor the printer got damaged.
Bird Beak tried to shoot me, but he hadn't expected me to crawl up the wall. By the time he got off a shot, I pounced on the other human killer, attacking her with only my claws. The bystanders backed away to a safe distance.
That's when my own improvised weapon crashed into the side of my head.
I passed out on the floor.