Note: For ease of reading, mini chapter breaks have been inserted every six pages. They are numbered from 0000 to 0002, maybe longer if it's that kind of chapter Not very dramatic, but they serve as a bookmark for people who stare at the screen.
[000]
The worms made strange squealing sounds as they died, exploding popcorn-like as they departed the flaming carcass.
Hissandra-me made a gagging noise, and a handful of worms popped out of her mouth, flopping lifelessly on the gutter like wet angel hair pasta.
Of course, those worms actually emerged from my mouth, my body, not the scarred one I currently occupied. I frowned at my sister as I contemplated our body switch conundrum. "Maria suggested we use my secret tongue, my Wooby Worm she called it, but I don't see how that can work, since Ssorzechola bit it off."
"I've heard that is difficult, but not impossible."
Aquila crawled across the ceiling, smiling at us.
I briefly wondered why she hadn't been present to assist us in battle, but it was excusable. As a larva, any contribution she might have added would have been slight at best.
"Maria told me that the Wooby Worm is like a battery contact. Even if the wires are damaged, you can still twist them together to make a connection."
Hissandra and I awkwardly kissed each other, attempting to connect our worms together.
At first, nothing happened, and I felt only embarrassment.
"Wait," Hissandra blurted. "I saw something."
We tried again.
I saw a flash of a different perspective from an alternate vantage point, but then it went away.
We made a few more attempts, the images gaining greater and greater consistency as we mastered the worms, like bunny ears on an old TV. Memories flashed between us, disappearing before we understood what we saw on a conscious level.
My eyes focused, and I found myself staring back at Hissandra's flame scorched body. We quickly disengaged tongues.
"I'm glad that's over!" my sister growled. "Your body sucks worse than mine!"
"My apologies, my strength is largely spiritual in nature."
Hissandra shook her head. "This is true. It takes great courage for a Ss'sik'chtokiwij to worship the `Jesus' being. It seems like worshiping your dinner. In fact, he actually compares himself to food."
I gawked at her. "You know!"
"I know enough to understand you are crazy, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik." She clambered up on the ceiling.
"Where are you going?"
"To catch dinner."
"What!" I cried in alarm.
"Relax, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. There's so many dead bodies up there that I'll be too full to kill anyone for a long time."
She disappeared into Unit 220...or more accurately, 220 and a half.
"Maria is gone?" Aquila asked from the crawl space next to me.
I nodded, waving to the flattened husk on the gutter floor.
"We should bury her."
"Yes, but I need to take care of the living first."
Kumar lay where I left him, passed out under the air conditioner unit. I attempted to lift the machine, but it proved a little too heavy for me.
Still breathing. As a predatory creature, I knew how to determine Kumar's pulse instinctively.
A digit on every Ss'sik'chtokiwij claw has a hollowed out portion, to conduct the vibrations of a victim's pulse. I found Kumar's weak, but stable. "Stay with me. I'm going to get help."
My nearest `help' busily devoured one of Ssorzechola's victims, the other strangely costumed woman. Well, Hissandra did say she was hungry.
Despite being speared through the chest by a massive Ss'sik'chtokiwij tail, the woman still had a serene expression on her face. Her faith, it seems, had been sincere. Sincerely wrong, but sincere, nonetheless.
"Excuse me, could you please assist me for a brief moment?"
Hissandra stared at me, mouth dripping with gore.
"It will only take a minute."
"Fine. Whatever."
I led her to the trapped man, gesturing for her to grab a side of the air conditioner.
We picked it up. Still heavy.
"Where do you want it?" Hissandra grunted.
"Anywhere away from the human."
She dropped it on a pile of broken chairs. "Done."
I thanked her, and she went back to her meal.
Worse shape than I thought. Kumar's left leg had been severely damaged. Maybe a skilled surgeon could reassemble it with metal pins or something, but until then it couldn't support weight. His other leg also looked broken, but solid enough to walk upon.
I'm no doctor, so I probably did wrong by shaking his shoulders, but I wanted to talk to him. "Kumar!"
He moaned, but did not speak.
I tried my hand at first aid, which involved a tourniquet, like I'd seen in movies.
I found some pieces of chairs, melting and sometimes soldering them with my saliva to make splints of appropriate length, then ripped strips of fabric from the dead, tying them around the objects to keep them in place. "Kumar, I need to ask you an important question. Please answer me!"
Kumar let out an incoherent sound, that could have possibly been Hindi.
"Where is the nearest doctor?"
"0-240," he moaned.
I didn't know the numbers, but I thought I'd help anyway.
No immediate exits in sight, save for the entry to the sewer, and I didn't want to get his leg infected. The original pressure door to the unit had been damaged by the conflict, its upper portion crimped in such a way that it could not be pried open.
The walls had holes in them, the ones nearest the floor leading nowhere good.
The man, being a heavier than an android, gave me some difficulty with transporting him up the wall. Still, it got done, and in the upstairs hallway, I alternated between carrying him and allowing him to lean on me like a crutch.
A couple men in jumpsuits marched past us with tool boxes. They didn't seem terribly surprised to see me, instead regarding me with the uneasy wariness one would reserve for a rabid animal. I believe these men had been sent to repair the water and electrical breaks, for they soon hurried inside nearby rooms, swearing about something or another.
I couldn't find an elevator, so we took a staircase to the lower floor.
"Where's Aphita?" Kumar groaned.
"Your wife and child are safe at the other end of the base. I'll bring them to you once you see a doctor."
At least, I hoped they were safe.
We passed by a lab and the place of my earlier imprisonment, turning the corner at the lounge I'd used for bible study a few hours ago. I found the medic along the next corridor.
A fairly packed little hospital. Many humans had sustained injuries during the conflict, leaving Kumar at the mercy of the triage system.
The moment I entered, people screamed and recoiled from my presence.
I extended the peace sign, then attempted to show them the Vulcan sign, but I couldn't get my claws to quite make the right shape. This prompted a few chuckles, and the tension in the room lessened. A little.
The medical staff treated victims for cuts and acid burns of varying degrees of severity. Some people lacked fingers or an eye or part of their feet.
A pregnant woman occupied one of the tables, going into labor as a younger woman of Arabic descent stood between her spread legs, coaching her on how to breathe and push.
At other tables, doctors performed computer aided surgeries with laser cutters and automatic suturing machines.
An unfriendly old man bearing a strong resemblance to the Uncle Sam character in army recruitment posters stood at a table next to the pregnant lady, recording the time of death of some grizzly lumbrjack looking fellow. The victim had received a nasty stomach wound, and it had gotten infected. Uncle Sam compelled a pair of strong men to carry the body away.
The man's fierce eyes then bore down on my friend.
I always found images of Uncle Sam intimidating. The gaunt, narrow face with the stern expression, the pointy knife-like nose, the eyebrows and goatee like some demonic frost king...not the type of human you'd expect warmth and compassion from.
And now this doctor, despite the white lab coat instead of flag colors, bore enough facial resemblance was close enough to make me uneasy.
"How long ago?" This doctor must have been either used to seeing Ss'sik'chtokiwij, or too exhausted to realize he spoke to one, for when I answered, "About a half hour," he actually looked bored.
"Get him up on the table."
I did so, and Uncle Sam proceeded to strip off the tourniquet.
A man suffering from panic attacks yelled as he got forcefully ejected from the room. Someone punched him, and he staggered out. Patton's legacy lives on.
Uncle Sam brought out a large antiquated blue device, apparently a cross between a sewing machine and an industrial hole puncher, wheeling it around Kumar's legs. He used a remote controlled rack on the ceiling to suspend a bag of IV solution, adding blood once he got Kumar's records.
The man pumped a syringe into Kumar's IV. "We're running low on supplies right now, so this is all the painkiller I can spare."
He repositioned the blue machine. "You're not going to like this, but I need to re-break your leg so it can heal straight."
Kumar replied incoherently. Not quite an "Okay," but Uncle Sam didn't care.
The doctor brought the machine's mechanical ring down around Kumar's leg, and, with a few presses on a computer interface, a miniature jackhammer shattered Kumar's bone irregularities.
My friend screamed loud enough to compete with the pregnant woman.
I backed away, deciding I had done what I could, and he only needed to have his family with him.
I found the woman, Calvin, and the baby, where I had left them, unharmed and in relatively good health. Empty containers of canned goods scattered around showed they had taken care of themselves in my absence.
All three lay asleep. Aphita and Deepali on a sofa, Calvin sprawled on a bed with his covers kicked off. Pain slept curled up at the woman's feet like the family dog.
I gently nudged the woman awake.
The moment her eyes opened, she screamed.
Then, as the baby started crying, she calmed down, scowling at me. "It's you."
I nodded. "Sorry. I just wanted to let you know that your husband is back to normal, but he got hurt. If you want to see him, he's in the medical bay."
She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean `back to normal'?"
[0000]
"He no longer serves Ssorzechola. You should see him."
Pain stirred from her slumber. "What happened? You've been gone a long time."
I told her the events of the previous hours.
"Wow. So sister Ssorzechola is dead."
I know that seems odd for her to say, but as Grandmother's offspring...
"Yes."
"So what will you do now?"
"I don't know. Continue to protect humans, I suppose."
Aphita woke up Calvin, leading him to the door.
"I'm going to check on the other children," I said.
Pain nodded. "I hope they're okay."
Calvin waved to my little aunt. "Come here, Pain."
The boy picked her up, letting the larva curl up against his chest like a pet ferret. I smiled.
"I'll make sure these ones are safe," Pain called to me. "Good luck with the children."
I did not locate the other kids where I expected them to be. The little niche below the air conditioning machine had been left vacant, aside from the sleeping bags and food packaging. No sign of blood, but I found their absence disconcerting.
I followed their scent trails around the base for awhile. It was a little difficult on account of all the foot traffic, but eventually...
The three had been hiding inside a food storage facility next to the base kitchen. The future site of Ssorzechola's proposed `tabernacle' lay only a couple units away, but I suppose, with all the screams and explosions on the other half of the base, the pantry may have seemed safer.
All around them lay evidence of their foraging: Opened and partially emptied containers of mixed nuts and cereal, cookies and muffins.
Only a guardian, not a parent. I worried more about them not getting killed than their vitamins, so the mess did not concern me. If times became more peaceful, and I actually needed to be a parent, I would scold them then.
The children all appeared unharmed. Landon sat by a wall, using an app on his phone to monitor the hallway outside, so they wouldn't get caught raiding the supplies. Timmy rummaged around in a freezer, examining frozen Popsicles. Rebecca, with her face smudged with chocolate, drowsily rested her head on a stack of flour bags.
My appearance in the room caused them to shrink away, but I just waved and said hi. They relaxed a little.
"What's happening out there?" Timmy asked. "Did you do something about those creepy cult guys?"
I sighed, rounding my shoulders. "Yes. Ssorzechola is gone. I do not believe they will bother you again."
Landon wrinkled his nose. "You smell like caca. Why don't you go take a bath?"
I shook my head. "If you promise to return to your hiding place and stay there, I promise to bathe."
He frowned. "I thought you said this Scary Cola guy was gone. Why are we still hiding?"
"This base is crawling with Ss'sik'chtokiwij, and they're not friendly like me. You need to find someplace safe to stay. Preferably the dwelling of a colonist with a gun. But if you can't find that, stay with me."
Timmy nodded. "See you at the fort."
"What happened to the white thing that was with you?" Landon asked.
I stared at him and Rebecca for a moment, then wept.
The boy suddenly looked scared. "That's not contagious, is it?"
I shook my head. "Only if you feel as much heartbreak about Maria as I do."
"Who's Maria?"
"That's the name of the white thing, stupid," Timmy said.
"Hey! Don't call me stupid, turkey! How was I supposed to know? I seriously couldn't remember. Anyway, aliens are supposed to have exotic names, like Jor-El or Thanatos. Not Maria or Larry."
I padded to the vent I'd entered. "I'm going to bathe and take care of some errands. Meet you back at the fort."
Not the best idea to waste time bathing in seclusion, but I wouldn't make a good bodyguard if my stench drove away the children I guarded. "Can someone please show me to the nearest shower?"
The shower also stood close to the `tabernacle.' It seemed Ssorzechola had planned it that way, to grab the greatest possible amount of colonists.
Similar layout to Mr. Hansen's shower room, except they hadn't used concrete in its construction.
Landon showed me the place. He leaned against a wall, staring as I bathed in hot water.
A naked woman with dolphins tattooed across her chest shrieked at us, retreating behind a shower post.
From there the forty year old brunette watched us for a few minutes, relaxing when she saw the boy unharmed, and how ridiculous I looked soaping myself under that spray.
"Are you going to bury my father now?" Landon asked.
I sighed. "Yes. But I need you to help me. We need a shovel, and I'd prefer that your two friends came with us."
The boy slid into a sitting position on the floor.
"Also, I have my own dead to bury. Since we're burying your loved one, it's only fair to also bury mine."
Not exactly fair, since I let Pain eat the man's innards. But Landon didn't argue. "Deal."
I instructed him to tell the others to hide in the fort while I retrieved what remained of Maria's body. Unsafe, as I had to rush to the other end of the complex, but I decided, if they stayed in the fort with the giant spinning fan, and I hurried, they might be okay.
I would have brought them along, but this is Unit 220 and a Half. In fact, when I returned to the area, a number of Ss'sik'chtokiwij devoured the dead like it were an all-you-can-eat buffet.
For Maria's burial shroud, I located the bedspread from the radio enthusiast's room. It had a couple rips in it, but it would do.
I kept to the crawl spaces, avoiding the sewage, and an unwanted second shower.
Ssorzechola's body still smoldered, but the fire had burned itself out. I feared this wouldn't be enough to stop the worms, but only a mass of worm shaped charcoal lay within her shattered skull, the only thing radiating from the exoskeleton more of the same, taking on the appearance of those pathetic `snake' fireworks children light on Independence day. Worm shaped strings of black ash.
I considered merely grabbing some oil or gasoline and cremating the body on the spot, but in addition to fears about creating an unwanted explosion, I thought Maria deserved better than that.
Praying that the worms were dead for good, I gathered Maria's empty shell in the bedspread, racing back to the fort.
I found the place empty. Someone had left this message for me on a talc board:
`Went to get shovel. Meet us at entrance.'
Near the large pressure doors at the end of the base, I found the shredded remains of a little brown body in a jumpsuit. A shovel lay nearby.
Landon was dead. I would need to dig three graves now.
I searched the area, hoping I wouldn't require any more.
"You stupid kid!" I sobbed. "Why couldn't you have followed my directions?"
Saying this didn't make me feel any less negligent.
Rebecca and Timmy cowered behind a nearby vent. They got scared and scooted back until they recognized me.
"We told him not to stand there," Rebecca whimpered. "But he wouldn't listen."
I sighed and shook my head.
A small white shape limped up to me.
Aquila. She was wounded. "It was one of Grandmother's young. I tried to stop her, but she was too strong."
I cried.
I thought about tracking down the boy's killer, but with the base so overpopulated with Ss'sik'chtokiwij, there didn't seem to be a point. It would be better to just protect the living.
I examined the larva's injuries with concern. "Will you be okay?"
Aquila nodded. "I will heal."
"Get some rest, little aunt."
We went outside.
Muddy ground. The type of shovel I dug with people used to dig latrines while camping. It took time to excavate the soil.
The two children stood close to me as I worked, both looking glum as I felt.
Not exactly six feet deep, but I did get down to a dry, rocky portion of strata, which seemed to be an appropriate enough place to deposit a body.
The children sat on a large rock, chins in their hands.
Humans at a certain age often become fascinated by watching people in purposeful activity, be it a construction worker with a jackhammer or a janitor scrubbing a mess off the floor. I think they vicariously experience the labor by watching, perhaps even forming a career choice in their mind.
I carefully laid the man across the bottom, still wrapped in the tarp.
In Landon's pocket, I found a little sewing kit, which I used to stitch up his father. Not the strongest thread, so I had to redo a few stitches.
The boy, on the other claw, was a lost cause. I sewed what I could, but he didn't look much better.
I wrapped the man's arms around his son, giving them both these parting words: "I'm sorry I failed you. If I had chosen differently, you may have lived, but there is nothing I can do about that. Landon, I hope you and your father can be together once more, in heaven, like this, but better. With your mother, possibly."
[0001]
Rebecca and her brother held hands, tears rolling down their cheeks as they stared speechlessly into the hole.
The storming had stopped for an hour or so, but as I shoveled the dirt back in, we got hit by a downpour.
Rebecca pulled a plastic poncho out of her overalls. While I finished filling in the grave and started on the next, she donned the covering, slinging her arm around her brother to keep the rain off him, too. Touching.
As I dug Maria's grave, the children got up from their rock to stare at the deflated shriveled body.
"As a human, she was a dear friend," I said. "As a Ss'sik'chtokiwij, she was a dear sister, and the greatest Ss'sik'chtokiwij who ever lived."
The children's faces showed some pity, but mostly their expressions said, `If you hadn't gone to get that body, Landon would still be alive.'
I hurriedly covered the body, and we returned, very damp, to the interior hallway of the base.
Knowing human children's susceptibility to colds, I asked if they knew of a good place to get towels and dry clothes. They said yes, albeit with dark expressions.
As I followed them through the base, we encountered the woman with the jewel strap shoes, who now compounded her baffling behavior by striking herself repeatedly on the head, or rather, hair.
Humans have something called `hair weaves', difficult to wash without undoing, making them rather itchy and uncomfortable. Hence the head beating.
Timmy told me about this as I were stared. "I know a girl in school with a weave."
The woman screamed and ran away.
A few yards down the corridor, we came across the small rusty housing unit that served as the Jorden residence.
A human's home is often reflective of their character. The Jorden home said much about the rustic personality of its occupants.
A deer head on a plaque overlooked a small dining table, the tinfoil antennas attached to its forehead possibly indicating someone's opinion about extraterrestrial life being the next outdoor sport.
They had a garishly framed reproduction of Blue Boy by Gainsborough, a landscape painting featuring deer, and framed family pictures. The Jordens looked a lot more proper and clean cut in their photographs.
A framed picture of John Wayne, well, three, counting the collectible ceramic plate, and clock. A poster of a plumber with drooping pants bore a caption reading `Say no to crack.'
Someone had left the flat screen television on. NASCAR. A recording, I believe, since it would have been impossible to get live television out there.
"Has someone been in here?" I asked.
"I leave the TV on," said Timmy. "It makes me less scared."
I thought about shutting the monitor off, to avoid attracting Ss'sik'chtokiwij, but since the thing had been on all this time anyway, they'd notice the silence more.
A combination of a bar and kitchenette. A second flat screen monitor had been built into the counter, currently displaying the title menu for some movie about male strippers, possibly Rebecca's mother's choice.
A recliner faced this monitor, one with a dark brown stain in the back. A dirty looking pillow and blanket lay rumpled on the cushion.
Flies buzzed around in abundance, due to the lack of cleanup. The children seemed to be used to the putrid odor.
Dried brown blood trailed across their pea green carpeting, crawling with various associated insects. Towels had been carefully placed over sections of the trail, I guess to avoid touching it or having to clean up.
The blood trail ended at the mouth of an open vent.
Based on the evidence, a Ss'sik'chtokiwij, logically a large one, had killed Rebecca's mother in the middle of Magic Mike 10 and dragged her into the vent, no one bothering to clean up since.
The flies were having a `field day' with a rolled up rug in the corner. Not certain I wanted to unroll it.
"I saw them take mother," Timmy whimpered. "I guess I should clean up, but...it's mom's blood...I don't even have a carpet cleaner."
"Why has no one seen this? Why has no one cleaned up the place for you?"
"We keep to ourselves," Rebecca said quietly.
"But you had a citizenship award."
"That was before. When I had parents telling me to do stuff."
"You slept here all this time, with that smell?"
"No."
"We found places where no one was staying and hid there," Timmy added. "I even checked our voicemail so we wouldn't get in trouble."
Rebecca sighed. "We still got in trouble. Daddy only had so much money. We owed things."
I sighed. What could I really say? "At least you're still alive," was the best I could manage.
Rebecca nodded a little in agreement.
Timmy didn't look so sure. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to touch all that blood and stuff."
"It's okay. Just get your things."
The two went into another room.
I took a brief moment to examine the family library.
Someone would describe the selection as `lowbrow.' Harlequin romance novels. The Bathroom Reader collection, and The Fart Book (Unabridged). Children's books, some digital.
Their collection of DVD and flash drive entertainment consisted of The Beverly Hillbillies, National Lampoon's Vacation movies, `The Disney Collection' (one whole flash drive), South Park, Titanic, and several films featuring John Wayne. The Blazing Saddles case lay empty. For some strange reason, they also owned a novelty cigarette lighter shaped like a penis.
The family owned a safe. Locked. I didn't know the combination. A gun in a holster lay next to a box of bullets.
I strapped the gun around my shoulder plates, then frowned because I didn't have anywhere to put the shells...other than unsafely in the gun.
I stepped into the tiny children's bedroom. I guess they both shared the same room. The odor lessened inside the door, probably because they tended to seal the room tightly the moment they entered, and had a pair of air purification devices blowing nonstop. I don't know how they kept the electricity on.
Two untidy spring beds, blankets and clothing spread haphazardly across them. A framed electronic `poster' displayed a ninja chimpanzee fighting a large orangutan, a picture that changed to an animated little girl witch creating a massive tree with her glowing hands.
The other walls held non-animated pictures, a framed Transformer robot and a fluffy kitten.
Timmy, with his hair wrapped in a towel, buttoned a fresh jumpsuit on his person when I entered. "You said Maria was human. How is that even possible?"
I told him about Sarah and her life altering decisions.
He shook his head in disbelief. "She sounds really crazy."
"Maybe so. But I loved her."
Rebecca came out of the bathroom with a clean outfit, drying her hair. I didn't see a shower in there, but they had already gotten a good soak outside.
I asked Rebecca if I could have her plastic Friendship is Magic purse, for the bullets. She agreed, so I guess I'm the only Ss'sik'chtokiwij in history that has `accessorized.'
I gestured to the beds. "I have an idea. How about we stay in here tonight?"
They looked at me like I had gone insane.
"Oh dear. I've said something wrong."
They just stared.
I came to the realization that perhaps a human wouldn't want to sleep next door to the place of a family member's death. Ss'sik'chtokiwij do not suffer from this kind of phobia.
I made my voice sound as gentle as possible. "Very well. Let's return to the fort."
As we started down the corridor that led to the children's new home, someone scampered behind me.
Fearing another Ss'sik'chtokiwij attack, I spun around.
Only Aquila, still limping from her injuries.
"I'm sorry I couldn't help your friend. Really I am. If it's any compensation, I can show you the Ss'sik'chtokiwij that did it."
"That's okay. If I kill that one, another will just come and take her place. We need to protect what we have. At least Ssorzechola is out of the way."
She nodded. "I am going to acquaint myself with the other Ss'sik'chtokiwij on the base, and tell them about Jesus. Perhaps we can stop this bloodshed."
"It pleases me to hear you say this. For such is the true justice I wish for Landon's killer. An enemy is best destroyed by making them your friend."
"You are wise, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. I shall apply myself to this task right away."
When she turned to leave, I heard a sharp crack. Smoking green blood sprayed from her little skull.
"No!" I cried, backing away.
A fat man in Kevlar appeared around the corner, bearing a sniper rifle.
Not sure how this item came to be present on a planet which previously had not inclined itself toward situations requiring such weapons, but bad news for me. "Here is a man with a gun. Judging by his act, you should be safe, but I will not. Goodbye."
The man shot at me as I scurried up a wall to escape.